Homeschool Camp . . .(yes there is such a thing!)

Hello!
As some of you know, I have been away (before the school holidays) at camp and up north.
I will post about Queensland later (probably next week), however now, I am going to put about the Homeschool camp I went to . . .

Random dancing - I'm the one in the white top,
pretty skirt, and grey tights {Anna is wearing
the pretty dress, which I have just like it . . .

I live in Medowie, 40 minutes from Newcastle, and Lennox Head (where the camp was at) is 6 or so hours north. Mum couldn't drive that far, and I can't blame her! We stayed at a friends house overnight [Mrs. Hassett, I hope you enjoy this publicity!] and awoke with the sun on a lovely Monday! the Hassetts have the most AWESOME LIBRARY!!!!!! I fell in love with it!!! there was books everywhere!!! cool!!!!(sigh)!!!!

We drove down Princess and Jelly Bean, and 2 hours later, we were at camp!!! We tumbled out of the car, and tried to find our friends before out mums called us back to help unpack.

Me: purple ring; Princess: blue ring; Anna: green ring;
and Jelly Bean: red ring

Our priests were Fr. Risso (I think thats how his name is spelt!) and Fr. Gabriel. We had teams: Red Bosco, Blue Assisi, and Green Mackillop. I was in Mackillop; Go go Mackillop Green!

Spiritual talks, mass, and choir singing, exploring rock pools, kite flying, sports day, burying other people in sand; all part of the experience!

Coming third place

gosh, who do we have here?
well, Jelly Bean, Princess, Brigid, Me, Anna, and
 Rosias' sister,

Each night events, such a quizzes, games and a talent show, were held. on the Thursday night there was a bonfire; down at the beach (did I mention that it was a 2 minute walk to the beach?) and out in the field.

All heaps of fun, and I am going to another camp (down south) this week!!! Blog later!
Sararose xox

Taffy and Cinnamon

Taffy and Cinnamon are my new bunnies!!!! it started with my piano teacher, Chanel . . .
Her family breeds Nederland dwarf rabbits and I said to Mum "Mum, I want a bunny!" in that really annoying whinging voice - just joking!!!
Anyway, I discussed things over with Mum and Dad, dah dah dah dadah, (1,2, skip a few, 99, 100!!!!) blah blah blah, and they said YES!!!!(well, really it was dad who had to say yes - Mum agreed almost straight away!)!! We decided to get them AFTER Qld - great place, wonderful time, but that's for another post!
We got back on Friday night - bit late: quarter to nine! - stayed at Grandma and Grandads' Saturday night 'till Monday afternoon, and then today!!! Calls were taken and made, and around 1 o'clock we were at Chanels' house!!! Greeted by her family, we went down to the back of the house. After pats and questions, we left with my beautiful bunnies in a tall cardboard box (filled with torn up paper and a old kitchen towel, just in case you were wondering). Getting the bunnies home was one thing - getting them in the Hutch is another!!

Little Old Lady and the Atheist

There was a little old lady who would come out every morning on the steps of her front porch, raise her arms to the sky and shout, "Praise the Lord!"

Well, one day an atheist moved into the house next door. Over time, he became irritated at the little old lady. So every morning he would step out onto his front porch and yell after her, "There is no God!"

Time passes with the two of them carrying on this way every day. Then one morning in the middle of winter, the little old lady stepped onto her front porch and shouted, "Praise the Lord! Lord, I have no food and I am hungry. Please provide for me, oh Lord!"

The next morning she stepped onto her porch and there were two huge bags of groceries sitting there. "Praise the Lord!" she cried out. "He has provided groceries for me!" The atheist jumped out of the hedges and shouted, "There is no Lord. I bought those groceries!" The little old lady threw her arms into the air and shouted, "Praise the Lord! He has provided me with groceries and He made the devil pay for them!"

God Help the Outcasts

I watched the Hunchback of Nortre Dame last friday with my Mum. I have never seen it before, Mum has though, with my siblings. Here is a song that Mum never heard, but is very beautiful.

God Help the Outcasts

Esmeralda

I don't know if You can hear me
Or if You're even there
I don't know if You would listen
To a gypsie's prayer
Yes, I know I'm just an outcast
I shouldn't speak to you
Still I see Your face and wonder...
Were You once an outcast too?

 God help the outcasts

Hungry from birth
Show them the mercy
They don't find on earth
God help my people
We look to You still
God help the outcasts
Or nobody will

Parishioners

I ask for wealth

I ask for fame
I ask for glory to shine on my name
I ask for love I can posess
I ask for God and His angels to bless me

Esmeralda

I ask for nothing
I can get by
But I know so many
Less lucky than I
Please help my people
The poor and downtrod
I thought we all were
The children of God
God help the outcasts
Children of God

The song "God Help the Outcasts" is a soft ballad sung by Esmeralda inside Notre Dame after she sees how Quasimodo and her people are treated by society. It replaced another song, "Someday," which was cut when the directors wanted a quieter song in a cathedral.

Sararose

Story of the Praying Hands

This was sent to me by a friend:

Many of us would have seen the picture of “The Praying Hands”, also present in many Christian homes, but would almost certainly not have heard the moving story behind this popular picture.

Here is the story.

THE STORY BEHIND THE PICTURE OF THE PRAYING HANDS

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived
a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food
on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a
goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade
and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of the elder children,
Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their
talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be
financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the
Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two
boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would
go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his
brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won
the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the
other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or,
if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer
won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four
years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an
immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils
were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he
graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his
commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held
a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant
homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and
laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the
table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice
that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words
were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn.
Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care
of you."

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where
Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head
from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ..no
...no ..no."

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced
down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands
close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years in the
mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed
at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly
in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast,
much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a
brush. No, brother ...for me it is too late."

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of
masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, water colors,
charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great
museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people,
are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely
being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in
your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed,
Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms
together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful
drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened
their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love
"The Praying Hands."

The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second
look.

Let it be your reminder,

that no one -

no one - ever makes it alone!

Thank you!!!

Sara