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by Kendrea Rhodes

Lying here, I feel love washing over me, covering me head to toe, the inevitable inbound wave. I can’t avoid it. I feel the gift of life, just now, just in this moment.

I am in hospital with my baby in my arms. My beautiful baby boy. I relish the joy of him … his perfect mouth and fat little fingers, his immaculate fingernails, his hearty cry. I smile.

But my joy dies as quickly as it came, and of course the wave ebbs; all waves do. In the pit of my stomach is a clenching sickness. I have nowhere, no-one, nothing. How will I keep this perfect child alive?

My name is Som.

It’s as if there is only me and my baby. But of course his father must exist, too—even though I have scrubbed him from my mind, disinfected every nook in my brain that his memory stained. He lied. He already had a wife and children. How could I have been so stupid?

I can hear the woman—no, the mother—next to me. She screams in agony. She has no money for medicine. As the nurse moves around her, the flimsy curtain separating us flutters. In a fleeting instant I glimpse what might have been my own fate: sickly sweat, blood and pain. Her baby died, and I feel guilty.

My baby lives and I can’t look after him. But, oh, look how beautiful he is!

I think about my own mother. I want her to comfort me, I want it so badly. But I have invited the monster of shame into our household.

‘Your sick father needs looking after’, she said. ‘We need money for food’, she said. ‘We can’t feed another mouth’, she said.

‘You must give that child away’, she said. The memory kills me inside.

I relish the joy of him … his perfect mouth and fat little fingers, his immaculate fingernails, his hearty cry. I smile.

A lady from the hospital comes to me. She has a different aura. She carries hope. She wears it openly, so that even I can see. O, what a garment … hope. I long to wear it. I close my eyes, but the lady doesn’t go away. She is still there, waiting for me to be ready. She touches me gently. She tells me she has good news for me.

I don’t believe her. I open my eyes, but only because it’s not polite to feign sleep. She tells me there is a place for me, somewhere to go. There are people who will help me, protect me and care for me.

She says it’s called the Home of Grace and I can live there with my baby for two months, while I find my feet again. There are other mothers-to-be and new mothers and babies there too. I could make decisions about what’s right for

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By Rosie Schafe

The 2014 Australia Day Honours List recognised the achievements and community service of 638 men and women from across Australia. Three of them were lifelong Lutherans.

Announcing the recipients, Governor- General of Australia Quentin Bryce supported the ideals of the honours system. ‘They elevate the concept of giving to others’, she said. ‘They heighten our respect for one another, and they encourage Australians to think about the responsibilities of citizenship in our democracy.’

Elmer Knobel, Reg Munchenberg and Ken Semmler never went about the business of their lives looking for recognition. All three are people who when they see a need try to meet it; when they see that something needs doing, they get down to work. All three are 2014 recipients of the Medal of the Order of Australia.

And as Lutheran Christians—whether or not they were always consciously aware of it—they knew deep within that through service to others they were also bringing God’s love to life in their communities.

Elmer Knobel OAM

For service to the community of Moree

Elmer Knobel grew up near Henty in southern New South Wales, but it was on the rich black-soil plains surrounding the northern New South Wales town of Moree that he built his adult life.

He was about 25 years old and accompanied by his new wife Irene, when in 1952 he took up 810 hectares of undeveloped country at Milguy, about 50 kilometres from Moree. Clearing the scrub and building roads and dams, Elmer and Irene built a farm—and a 58-year marriage that ended five years ago with Irene’s sudden death.

For a couple raised in established churches, the early situation was a shock: there was no church or congregation, just a couple of Lutheran families scattered across the region.

These later Lutheran pioneers gathered regularly for worship in each others’ homes, while occasional visits by pastors (often relatives) ensured that the sacraments could be received. The first Lutheran church to be built in the region was St John’s, Milguy, constructed from timber donated by the Knobels and milled at their property. By the early 1960s the number of Lutheran families in the region had grown, and Grace Lutheran Church.

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by Richard Zweck

Buen Camino!

On 13 September 2013, my son Jon and I stepped, weary but triumphant, into the huge courtyard in front of the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, Spain.

Behind us lay an experience we will not forget. We had completed walking part of the Camino Portugués (Camino means ‘path’)—the pilgrims’ way that links Lisbon in Portugal with Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

Santiago de Compostela is, by tradition, the resting place of St James, Jesus’ brother, and has been a place of pilgrimage for centuries. This pilgrimage grows in popularity every year; recently it was celebrated in the film The Way. The story behind our own pilgrimage was a pilgrimage in itself!

For most of my life, I didn’t give pilgrimage a moment’s thought. This changed the first time I visited Chartres cathedral in France. Notre Dame, Chartres, has the most famous labyrinth in the world, and I was there to train as a labyrinth facilitator. (Scholars believe that labyrinths were placed in churches as a convenient mini-pilgrimage).

On the Saturday before Pentecost Sunday, I was woken by a great deal of noise outside my room. Unable to sleep, I went out to investigate. To my amazement there were thousands of young people packing up after an outdoor service beside the cathedral. I watched as they hoisted their banners and set off in a long line towards Paris. On Monday after Pentecost an even larger group of young people arrived in Chartres from Paris. I later found out that I had witnessed the annual Pentecost Pilgrimage between Chartres and Paris. The local newspaper’s headline announced that there were over 23,000 young pilgrims.

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by Barry Klaer, Joanne Schache, Sarah Kubenk, Steve Burger and Keren Loffler

The National Lay Workers Conference at the picturesque Warrambui camp in early November was one of inspiration, encouragement and growth for me. These biennial events are much more than an exercise in networking.

Old friendships are renewed, new friendships are established and experiences shared, confirming that the body of Christ is alive and well and growing.

Heart-to-heart connections are created, as the love of Jesus is seen radiating from fellow lay workers. I attended the conference with an anticipation and desire for the Lord to speak into my life through prayer and the gifts of wisdom from presenters. It became a refreshing time in and around the word which brought reflection and challenges and a time of fresh visioning and realigning goals. (Barry)

Presenting—the speakers

Growing in our faith and in our relationship with God through Bible-reading and reflection, and then sharing God’s love from our experiences is the theme that the three lead speakers gave to us.

John North helped us to reflect on what it means to grow spiritually. Spiritual growth happens through reading and reflection on Scripture. When things grow they change, and spiritual growth does that: it changes us internally and then that change is reflected externally. Pastor Fred Veerhuis led us in the most thought-provoking Bible studies. Each hour we spent with him had us fully engaged. Small group discussions then gave us a wonderful opportunity to reflect and grow in quite unexpected ways.

From Pastor Bob Kempe we learnt that our life experiences can and do help us when we interact with others, especially those who are hurting. Often people who themselves have been wounded can be the greatest of healers. This gave us a time to reflect on our own lives and whom we may

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What is it about suggesting a long lunch that somehow also shouts out ‘Yay, a picnic!’?

At Blanchetown, South Australia, the Lutheran Lunch stretched across Australia’s longest river on a lovely warm and cloudy day—perfect weather for a venue without shade. Worship beforehand saw the little Blanchetown church bursting at the seams, and 58 people later sat down to lunch on the bridge. Shade wasn’t lacking at Duncraig, Western Australia, where people came and went under the shade of a big tree ‘which reminded us how covered and shielded we are by God’s grace’. What a great way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon!

Meanwhile in Buccleuch, South Australia, lunch was held a-Long the Mallee Highway, where locals—and even some tourists—joined in sharing sausage sangas with a few gourmet extras and lovely ice-cold drinks.

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