It’s another one of those unwritten Kiwi laws, like no frosts after Show Day, that every family in New Zealand must have a cousin that lives in Sydney.   

On the Homestead, we’ve always been a tad smug at being a cut above the rest due to the existence of not one but two wonderful Sydneysider cousins, with the added bonus of their awesome parents as well.  There’s nothing like the security of surpassing the exemplar. It’s true that things got a little shaky for us when elder cousin decided to relocate to the lone star state with his lovely new wife (just quietly, that would have given us three, technically), but equilibrium was once again restored when younger cousin chose to stay at home with an equally fantastic spouse; phew! Sydney based cousin: double check!

So, like every other family in New Zealand that meets the criteria (and there’s not many that don’t), we watched the events in the Lindt Chocolat Cafe in downtown Sydney unfold yesterday with that stomach churning mix of horror and terror. In that incredibly selfish way we humans have, we intently, fervently, ardently hoped with every fibre that one of ours wasn’t stuck inside that cafe.

Thank *insert whatever is appropriate to you and yours here they weren’t; heartfelt sympathy to those and their families that weren’t so lucky.

This morning as we went about our chores, we pondered the whys and hows and wtf’s behind this sort of event. How can this happen? What belief pattern has to exist to let this pass as an option? How? Why?

W                                                                                 T                                                                       F???

Of course, there’s no real answer and conversely there’s a multitude of them; it’s way too deep for our little blog.  But we’ve got something we have to say to you all; a kind of Union Homestead #illridewithyou:

It doesn’t matter what you believe in, where you live, what sex, colour or size you are, what your culture is, how you dress, where you went to school, what you do for a living, how many books you’ve read, or that you’re given to singing The Safety Dance when you milk your goat each morning (it just happens!), we promise to treat you with respect. You don’t have to share the same views, beliefs or lifestyle as us for us to be civil to you.  In return we won’t fill your ears with how things should be done/lived/worshipped. It’s mindblowingly simple!

Of course there’s always going to be personality clashes and folk you just don’t want to be around; how about doing what teachers the world over say on a daily basis: avoid them. For the most though, we vote you treat everyone like you want to be treated; we’re guessing that’s graciously, with respect.

Jimi Hendrix said: When the power of love overcomes the love of power, then the world will know peace. With that in mind, we’re undertaking a Farm Girl initiative. See this:

There’s a great many of them around our parts at the moment. So many, in fact, that Farm Girl has incorporated them as a unit of measure; appropriately named a “Liquifaction Truck” as was their initial number one task.  So, we’re sending you one and it’s filled to the (another FG unit of measurement) tippety-top not with liquifaction or a broken house, but with aroha.  Please, help us spread it around.  You’d be doing your bit to stop madness like yesterday in Sydney and today is Pennsylvania and tomorrow…

Let’s just stop the hating. 

Oh, but make sure you all keep a good dollop for yourselves first; aroha from us to you.