Learning to soar above life's storms
I have enjoyed writing since I was in primary school. I first took a particular interest in poetry, penning rhyme and freeform verse as well as journalling in my teens and twenties. I enjoy being out in nature, singing, cooking and gardening, playing piano and small craft projects. In this season where I have a small child, there isn’t a whole lot of time for writing, but I am working towards a published work one day.
Your hand on my back woke my senses,
Your openness unlocked mine-
Your kindness made my heart beat again…
For a chapter in time.
Butterfly remembers the flowers of home
Flits among shades and familiar scents
Pauses to drink the loveliness in
A strong gust blows it away
Days of confusion, searching- hoping
Peril and a broken wing-
Crawling back to comfort once more
The night turns into dawn
©️ M. Patterson 30.11.25
Gentle, calming soaking rain;
Soothing, reassurance comes-
Running into tiny pools;
Drought a banished thing.
Peaceful hearts and minds refreshed;
Hope unfurls the weary leaf-
Crumpled saplings rise once more;
Death a banished thing.
Upwards grows the tender stem;
Seeking warmth of midday sun-
Buds are waiting, hearts receiving;
Life a chosen thing.
©️ M. Patterson 7.11.25
In a house with chaos, loud and draining,
Lives two frazzled parents asking
For wisdom in droves and abundance of patience,
Stretched beyond anything they’ve ever known.
Hard to explain one day to the next;
Calm for a short time then busy at best;
Never quite enough hands or love in action-
Someone always lacking and parents on “empty”.
Ten minute walk to calm the nerves;
Bedtime stories punctuated with noise;
Children one by one, they go to their beds-
Short respite, then little one screams out again.
We do not wish them to be fully grown yet-
Just longing for some peace and relief to recover-
Never enough sleep and exercise is lacking;
It’s hard to show up and be the calm anchor.
Yet what do they have if we can’t be the rudder;
They’ll be tossed about searching for a beacon;
Be the serenity then
Fill up somehow-
Lives are being built to withstand
Heavy storms;
Softly creep into bed once more;
Tomorrow’s a new day-
These children will grow.
©️ M. Patterson 2025
My family is holidaying at Wilson’s Promontory this week, camping amongst the local bird and wildlife. We are a very short walk from the beach and kookaburras can be heard in the morning and at dusk. Albatross soar overhead while rosellas and wrens can be found in nearby trees and shrubs. Wombats are so accustomed to campers that they come right up to the tent. As we heated up our pumpkin soup and zucchini slice tonight, a wombat walked past Junior sitting in the stroller and he reached out to give it a pat! We are careful to store all our food in the car boot because we camped here years ago with a Coleman Lakeside 4 and a wombat squeezed under the side of the vestibule of the tent, helping itself to rice bubbles until we finally shooed it out!
Yesterday we made the most of the sun and took a walk down to the beach. The older two kids and hubby crossed Tidal river to climb on the rocks and I minded Junior on the sand, making a sand castle and collecting beach treasures to decorate it. Later on after lunch, we drove to Squeaky Beach and paddled in the cool water as the waves came in forcefully. The roar of the waves and the frigid water was too much for Junior so he went with Daddy to climb up onto a big rock and I looked after him later on, singing him to sleep for a little power nap to get him through to bedtime.
The thing I love most about camping here is sharing time with friends. I grew up enjoying holidays at Lakes Entrance with two other families and it is wonderful for my kids to have other kids to play with, all these years later. Also, it’s a chance to have conversations about the everyday, rather than just the big things that come up in our lives.
It’s a comfort to know that if we look after this beautiful piece of the world, it will be here for our children to bring their children back to and remember some happy times with us, connecting with their past as well as making their own fun memories in years to come.
I thought I would share one of my early poems that I wrote to capture the hope I found in Jesus. It shows that the development of faith is not always a straightforward one and that there are tests and struggles which prove it to be genuine. It also illustrates that hope is found through absolute trust in Jesus’ sacrifice and acceptance that the sacrifice of His shed blood is enough to save. You can paste the link below into your browser or click it to read. Hope it encourages you.
YOU
I cannot get it out of my head. It was a little phrase carefully placed in the sermon last Sunday, referring to the well known masterpiece from Le Miserables, ” I Dreamed A Dream”. A very familiar song which I first heard as a young teen, I have sung it with much emotion over the years and appreciated hearing it performed by professionals who could move me to tears. However, it is not my song. The words are not true for me, not will they ever be.
My family had loved ones torn away, we were thrust into a permanently uncomfortable limelight and we were sent into a tailspin, but we are still standing, by the grace of God. My health and strength was altered permanently with the diagnosis of CFS in my final year of highschool. Hope cannot be killed.
As Christians, we believe that we will see our loved ones again. We know that the reality of brokenness that we live through will not be the ultimate end. One day Christ will wipe away every tear.
This week, the world was shell-shocked by the death of Charlie Kirk, and its sadness far more reaching than our own story of grief. Little children, not even of school age yet, lost their Daddy in the most horrific way. Yet Erika is still standing. Of course she will have to work through trauma and grief upon grief for the rest of her life. Death was not the end though. Hers and Charlie’s dreams were founded on something more rock solid than circumstances can steal away. Life was senselessly wasted but God can and will restore hope, as it is based on the truth of Christ’s resurrection and His saving power, not a popularity vote or success measured by human hands.
On this day, one year ago, I took Rosie to the vet for the final time, knowing that it would probably be my last goodbye, and having prepared the kids for that devastating fact. Four years earlier, she had been diagnosed with thyroid disease and in the months and years that followed, the cost of keeping her was very difficult. The vet suggested rehoming her and I was resolute. There was no way; I would find a way to keep her and give her the best life she could have.
Portia, as she was formerly known at the RSPCA, had already been rehomed at the tender age of three, and within two months of bringing her home, she had survived pancreatitis. I had unknowingly triggered symptoms through training her to use the scratch post with Friskies. She had to be on antibiotics and then go on special diets for the whole time I owned her after that.
She would live comfortably and she would always know, I would look after her. Even as I watched her lose almost 20 per cent of her body weight in just a few months, she still found ways to connect with me. Right up until the final weeks, she could still chase an inanimate object across the floor. She would bop me on the head to say “hello”. She had at least four different meows which I learnt to interpret. One was to beg to be let outside, one was hunger, another to announce her presence when I walked nearby, and another one greeted me at the front door.
Holding her one final time was so heartbreaking. I felt like a traitor. This time I wasn’t able to save her. It was likely that she had experienced a stroke and also had cancer. She couldn’t walk properly or jump anymore. She had been off her food for four days. I had waited eight years to have a pet once I lost my old cat and Rosie settled in to my home with ease. She wanted nothing more than a warm lap, a gentle tone and someone to love her. She loved to be patted and cuddled close to my heart.
To help the children in their grief, I laid out some pieces of paper next to some flowers and asked them to record their memories of Rosie in the first week after she was gone. This meant that they would not have difficulty remembering them as the years went on, and we could keep her memory alive. Later today, the kids and I will read them together.
We miss you and love you Rosie-Rose- one of the sweetest cats that ever graced this planet.
She hath wings 
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