Resting and rising

Over a long weekend, I enjoyed some Easter festivities. For me, Easter has always been a time of year marked by weather warming, swapping sweaters for t-shirts and jeans for shorts; this year, though, it was different in the best of ways. There was lamb roasting on a spit, eating lunch outside while the sun warmed the patio enough to keep the goosebumps at bay, and curling up underneath a blanket with a cup of hot tea as the sky darkened before dinnertime.

It was a grand five-day weekend. Lazy mornings with no wake-up calls before 9 o'clock, mugs of coffee in bed, old Fred Astaire and Judy Garland flicks. As Australia nears wintertime, I long for all things comforting and cozy, and as I discover and create and am given those things, this place becomes more and more my home.

Sipping coffee in Stephen's ute on our drive to Glenbrook, bright and early Easter morning, I was reminded of the greatness of this time. Of all that has come before to prepare this path for me, and of all that is working to prepare even greater things to come.

It's time to rise.

When I don't feel loved

This thing has been on my mind a lot lately...what keeps us feeling loved and happy. In the middle of a season that is so fruitful, I still find myself frequently thinking about what's next. What's after Australia, if I can't get the proper visa? And this worry has caused me to seek as much preparation as possible, to make sure I am taken care of, and this seeking has caused me to temporarily lose sight of a lot of little pleasures I have in being here. Mostly what's happened, though, is I've spent a lot of time wondering if everything will be okay. But what's hiding underneath all of this thinking is a girl who's not sure if her flaws make her better or worse.

Sometimes, I don't feel loved. I think that it happens for everyone. When life is busy and things get hectic and we're worried about being perfect in every detail, our fears become greater than our faith. But when your fear is greater than your faith, you have to remember what's true.

When I don't feel loved, my fear is based on a lie. When I don't feel loved, I'm believing a lie that I'm not worthy of love. That something in me has failed to live up to an invisible standard of loveliness, and since I've fallen short, I won't be loved. I won't be good enough or smart enough or successful enough.

When I don't feel loved, I wonder if I'm too much. Too bossy, too easily annoyed, too stressed, too tired, too talkative, too honest. And all those worries feed into that fear of falling short of the standard I think was meant for me and I'm left wondering how in the world anyone could love me.

But today, my faith is greater than my fear. There are a hundred reasons why people mightn't love me, but there are a thousand for why they might, if I can let them.

Even when I don't feel loved, I know that I am loved.

I am never too much. And I am always enough. And while I don't know if my flaws make me better or worse, I know that they make me. They make me into someone who is loved and someone who is capable of love. That is more than enough, so the rest is sort of arbitrary.

I hope that you feel loved today. But if for some reason, you don't, I hope that you'll remember in spite of how you feel, you are loved.

We are always more than what we feel.

Being loved doesn't always look like this, but I'm so grateful that some of mine does.

Just a reflection this week, on the things that I'm coming to realize are perfectly normal but rarely spoken about. I'm happy, I'm whole, I'm learning.

On taking a break

Last week, I went to Melbourne. It's about as far South as you can go in Australia, in the state of Victoria. It was a dream, and while I didn't write or read much, I drank excellent coffee and saw excellent sights in excellent company and I got to wear scarves, which was excellent. I even saw the smallest penguins in the world (This is not a hyperbole. It's fact), and while we weren't allowed to take photographs, it is something that will be etched into my memory for the rest of my life. There is so much beauty in the world, and sometimes it takes the ridiculous waddling of a tiny animal to remind you of this truth.

As we got closer and closer to Sydney, though, I found myself restless. Not in the wanderlust sense. More in the I've so enjoyed this holiday and now I'm back and having to face the daily grind again and what if I can't handle it, and I was oh-so worried that coming back would be stressful.

It wasn't. I stepped into the doorway of my host family's house and it was like coming home, all over again. Like July 1st, 2013 when I stepped out of the airport into the crisp, Australian air for the first time and in spite of everything swirling around me, I just knew that I was in the right place.

There's something to be said for taking breaks. For sleeping much later than necessary and eating breakfast at lunchtime. For walking along beaches and perusing in new bookstores and taking breaths that are so long and sweet you're not exactly sure how your lungs are managing it. I don't know much about this year, but I do know this: It will be great. One for the record books.

I'm not one for resolutions or yearly "reflections" (which I think it a poor word choice, but that's a different story altogether). I think that the last day in May is as good a day as the first day in January to turn over a new leaf or start a new project or talk about how your life is shaping up. But I get it. I get that we live in a time frame dictated by a calendar that says this month is the beginning. I'll take it.

Give me everything you've got, new year. I can take anything you throw at me. I know how to breathe deeply between punches.

Bathhouses down by the seaside

We stopped in Ballarat to watch part of a cycling race. This is the peloton.

This is Stephen. He is a gentleman and makes a stellar travel companion.

On Christmas

A few days after the big celebration and even longer since I've last written here, I've settled back home in Sydney after Christmas in Cootamundra. This Christmas was unlike any I've had previously, and not just because it was beer in the pool rather than hot cider by the fire.

Lots of things were the same. Too much food, lots of laughter, excitement for presents and impatience from excitement. Family was celebrated and conversation was, mostly, light. But instead of being with my own family, I was with a new one. One that has taken me in and made me feel perfectly at home and perfectly welcome, but with the traditions abounding, I was reminded that they are not, in fact, mine. Christmas was disconnected.

I spent the morning opening gifts from both my families, host and biological. I slipped away quietly during tea and spent an hour Skyping with my family back in Georgia, for whom it was still Christmas Eve, before rejoining the Australia Christmas. I went to bed exhausted and content, but also sad in a profoundly new way. Celebrating Christmas this year was a stunning reminder that for me, this season is not nearly as much about the traditions or the locations or even the people with whom it's spent as it is about the One I am celebrating. But even with this knowledge in hand, the insignificant things still matter. And the holiday season half a world away from one's family can be a discombobulating thing.

Moving to Australia is a marvelous thing. It carries opportunities and adventures unmatched by any other I've had in my soon-to-be 24 years. But it also carries a heaviness, a bittersweet acknowledgement that new hello's do not exist without gravitational goodbye's. As the 12 days of Christmas count down and a monumental year approaches, I am joyful beyond compare, but I miss my family. And I am learning that the two things are strange puzzles pieces. They might not fit together easily, but they are both essential corners. Unless I have both, I won't see my big picture clearly. And it's a picture I desperately want to see.

A very Merry Christmas, from Australia to wherever you are. May your 2014 ring in with a resounding yes for whatever path you are choosing. The things that matter, the people that matter, the places that matter, you will carry with you.

 

On taking ownership

There's a lot to be learned. We spend years in school, being trained not only in specific disciplines but also in the discipline of learning. We grow up being taught to know. And while there are seasons where we'd rather not do homework or get up early for school, I would venture that for most of us, there comes a time when we see the benefits of gleaning. Learning becomes a treasure, whether it's in the classroom, from our parents or peers or employers, or a by-product of being a person. And while there are countless lessons that I consider invaluable (use cash instead of your card, give without expectation, see your own worth, etc) one of the best lessons I've learned is how to take ownership.

There are plenty of things of which I enjoy taking ownership. Plenty of things of which I excel at taking ownership. But the more I do life with people, the more I begin to see shortcomings in this areas as well. I can take ownership of my job and its responsibilities and my attitude and my growing friendships and my time here and the effort it takes to make my time here more permanent. But I realize more and more that I rarely take ownership of my feelings. I don't talk about them. I shy away from them at all costs. I avoid them.

But what's the fun in that? I'm learning this week, by the grace of God and His hand on my life, to take ownership of the way I feel about certain things and certain people, and to believe that this ownership will do nothing but cultivate more health for my heart. And this means finding a balance between not caring what anyone else thinks while still being considerate. Not always an easy task, but if I can move to Oz, I think I can do pretty much anything.

When the seasons change, things happen. For most of my friends and family, that change is bringing autumn; a coolness that's felt not just in the air but also the soul. Comfort, found in warm food and cozy sweaters. Everything starts to smell a little different. But here, it's spring. So instead, everything is waking up. Everything is blooming and discovering and the warmth stays in your cheeks a little too long. It's a season for something new.

When one change isn't enough

It's been a little while since I've come to Australia, and while in some ways it feels as if I've been here for ages, I am frequently reminded that I'm still new. This is all still new. I'm wholeheartedly enjoying getting to know my surroundings and family and friends, and I'm constantly excited by what's happening and about to happen.

Being an au pair is a challenge. But it is one worth the effort and time and energy. I seriously love my job. It's easily the best job I've had, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been given this opportunity. In some conversations over the past week or so with a few of my friends here, we've come to the conclusion that the only thing left to do here is make the most of it.

It sounds so simple. Be grateful each day for the wonder it holds for us, for the things we'll learn from how we're being challenged, and the freedom we've been given to adventure and explore and gallivant. But sometimes, it's tricky. In the midst of missing family and friends back in the States and the craziness of our schedules and the everything else we'd like to try, the thought of just sitting back and drinking it all in seems a little daunting. Which makes us sound so spoiled. Which we probably are.

But today, I am grateful. I am beyond blessed by this experience, by the church I've become a part of, but the people I've met, by the family that has let me be part of their life, by the scenery and the freshness, by the challenge. And I am not taking it for granted. I think people in my relative age group have this general idea, whether we realize it or not, that we're entitled to a lot of things. We're not. So maybe the issue isn't that we don't have enough or what we have isn't good enough. Maybe the issue is that we don't realize we could have nothing at all, but instead, we have everything. The possibilities are endless.

On getting out of the boat

One of the best lessons I've learned since coming to Australia is that if you're called to something, you can't expect it to be easy or comfortable or a walk in the park. It'll be the hardest thing you'll ever attempt, and you probably won't always get it right. There will be days when you feel absolutely inadequate and terrified by the thought that this is it. You won't want to get out of the boat. But you will.

You will step over the edge of safety, onto the waves of your uncertainties and shortcomings, and you will walk towards promises far greater than anything you could have ever dreamed. And when you lose focus and look down (and you will), the water will seem too rough and you'll lose your footing. But you'll be steadied, by grace and Truth and freedom, and you'll press on. You'll endure. You'll succeed. You'll be excellent. Because you're called to be.

But first, you have to get out of the boat.

 

On living high

Yesterday, I went for the first time to the Blue Mountains with my friends Courtney and Stephen. The Blue Mountains are both well-known and popular, subsequently hosting countless tourists a day, particularly now that spring has sprung. Lucky for us, Stephen happens to live close to the mountains, so Courtney and I got to see a different view. Not only did we enjoy a hike that finished with the most spectacular view I'd ever seen, but we were also able to explore some gardens where parts of the new film "The Great Gatsby" was shot. Undeniably cool.

Then today, Courtney and I sprawled out on the beach, soaking in the sun and talking about the beauty of that hike and boys and Australia and life in general. Our conversation eventually turned towards where we're headed after this year and I remember saying that this season has taught me the priceless lesson of true contentment. That in realizing what I want to do with my life, I've come to realize that I don't care where I live, as long as I'm doing what I love with people whom I love, and there is an unmistakable joy in that revelation. In this season. Later, over dinner with an old friend of hers, the same sort of question arose. But it was more along the lines of understanding why it's necessary to move on from each part of your life to another. In reminiscing about high school and college days, someone mentioned that there are always those people who make you feel like you're still in college or still in high school, and I pointed out that college is sort of where you find yourself. But then you've got to go and be yourself.

Australia has given me the gift of myself. Each day, each adventure, spurs me on to the next and in spite of the constant motion, I am not growing weary. I am learning to run with endurance, to have more perseverance. I am enjoying not only my successes but also the things that are being made clear to me through my shortcomings. Standing on the edge of that cliff brought to my attention the reality of my smallness, and I felt the presence of the Lord and I felt like a giant. We were high and we were mighty and it was righteous.

Hiking this weekend brought an ache to my legs that brought a wave to my heart, crashing over my soul in a strength and tenderness that made me light. I love to be outside, to feel the heat of the sun mixing with the chill of a wind that could knock you off your feet. It's a cicada summer here, and it reminds me of home in the sweetest of ways, and I find that all I want is to keep walking. To keep living high.

Childlike

Knowing this girl has brought me so much.

He's really really tall

Joy.

Details

A lot of what I post here is vague. Things I'm learning and growing in, bits and pieces of things I'm struggling to push past, glimpses of Oz, but for the most part, what I write is lacking in the details. Here are some.

Last week and this upcoming week are different that usual because the kids I look after are on holiday from school. Last week started in Brisbane and is now coming to a close with a long-awaited Skype call with my sweet parents. My friend Grace and I flew to Brisbane on Saturday and spent a long weekend exploring the city and beaches, all while couch surfing with an awesome couple. Saturday night found us eating tacos and burritos in the city, followed by tiramisu ice cream and a walk by the river that runs through the city. It was spectacular, and though the day of travel left us unbelievably tired, it was so good. On Sunday we got to experience Hillsong Brisbane. What a blessing, to be part of a church that reaches so many parts of the world. We spent the afternoon wandering through more of the city and enjoyed homemade Mexican, brownies, and the movie Australia with the couple hosting us. On Monday, we traveled to the Gold Coast and spent the day at Surfer's Paradise, where I fell asleep and got a little too much sun. That evening, we were able to not only see kangaroos in the wild, but also eat delicious kangaroo steak. It was incredibly tender and well-flavored and I loved it. For our last adventure, on Tuesday morning, we toured the brewery where Queensland's state beer is brewed before flying back to Sydney. And funnily enough, on our flight we met an Australian who happens to be an Atlanta Braves fan.

I arrived home to my host mom and kids, plus the first au pair they had and my host mom's mom, both of whom were visiting for the week. Jella (pronounced Yell-ah) worked for the Kowals roughly four years ago, and it's been really cool to hear her stories of the kids and see the relationship she still has with them, after all this time. It reminds me that even though I'm a temporary installment in this home, I can have a lasting impression on this family, if I choose my words and actions wisely and if I am deliberately loving and kind. At the end of the day, I find myself wanting to retreat to my room and enjoy moments of peace, but I'm learning that I need to step out a little bit more, even just for an extra half hour, and be more than just a nanny.

On Friday, my host family went to Canberra for the weekend to visit a family friend, so I had the house to myself. It was weirdly quiet, and while I enjoyed it for about five minutes, I found myself wanting to fill the space. So, I went to one of the Northern beaches with a group of friends on Saturday. The weather was close to perfect, although the water was unforgivably cold, and we had a blast sunbathing, tossing a frisbee, frolicking in the waves (let's be real, I barely dipped my toes in), and eating chicken burgers before heading home.

Watching the kids for a whole day, without the break of having them at school, is a totally different ball game. This upcoming week will surely present its challenges, but I'm excited to take them on. It gives me an awesome opportunity to know these kids beyond schedules and assignments and just enjoy the people they are. Not to mention with the beautiful weather, we have every reason to spend our time outside. The mantra is Anything you throw at me, I can take.

Anything you throw at me, I can take.

One of the many gorgeous views in Brisbane

The Fourex Brewery

On injuries and adventures and holidays

A lot has transpired since I last visited this little corner, due largely in part to an accident that left my unable to use my right arm for a few days. What an achievement, to have had my first Australian mishap! See, I decided that I was going to learn how to skateboard, which I did. It just so happens that I simultaneously learned that I'm good at falling. But regardless, I learned how to skateboard, and I learned that in spite of torn up knees and hips and a dislocated shoulder, I can't wait to do it again.

I traveled to Brisbane with a friend of mine for a short holiday. We left on Saturday and returned late Tuesday evening, and oh, what an adventure it was! From couch surfing to bus and train rides to meandering through markets and ice cream shops to relaxing on the Gold Coast to touring a brewery to seeing and eating kangaroo, it was a wonderful way to spend my first vacation. But at the end of that last day, when our plane touched down in Sydney, I was relieved to be home. To drive my car again. To see my house again. To sleep in my room again. To be with my family again. This is becoming more and more my home, and it was an incredible blessing to be reminded of that through a weekend away.

This and next week are school holidays for the kids, so there's lots of time to be spent out in the sunshine. Spring is slowly turning into summer, and the sunshine and heat are positively glorious. My skin is tight with the aftermath of days on the beach and walking through the streets of different cities. There are times when I receive not-so-good news from back home and I yearn to be in two places at once, but my heart is light and free here and I am constantly encouraged that here is the right place for me.

Seeing Brisbane for the first time, from the airplane. There's an inexplicable joy in exploration, and I love discovering more and more of that, and my own adventurous spirit, while I'm here.

A Portrait of Australia

Recently, I made a new friend. Her name is Courtney, and she looks after two kids in a suburb called St. Ives, about 15 minutes from where I am. We have a lot in common. We're both graduates of universities in the United States, we're both 23, we both have tattoos and nose piercings. We both enjoy bad jokes and late nights and good deals. We're both artists.

She, in the more traditional sense. Courtney studied art at Oregon State University, and while she has a shockingly wide range of talent, she has a preference for portraits. I student Rhetoric, and I while I can barely draw a stick figure, I write for my life. One of the first times Courtney and I spent time together, we discussed our lack of inspiration since being in Australia and the subsequent disappointment that we aren't as saturated in our respective creativities as we would like to be. I suggested we keep each other accountable to either write or draw every day, no matter what.

We decided, after talking it over and squealing (as girls often do over lattes), to collaborate. The project is called A Portrait of Australia, and it's a partnership of our talents. As often as possible, we pick a coffee shop, we sit, we people watch, and we pick someone. She sketches and I describe, in separate journals that we'll later combine. When we're finished, we trade and check out what the other is accomplishing. Guys, it's awesome. We got so excited that we immediately went out and bought new journals/sketch books specifically for this. So far we've only had opportunities to try our hand at it twice, but it's pretty cool. To see the difference in our talents, the ways in which our minds see the world and translate it onto paper, how we are somehow so alike and still so different, is astonishing.

I am really thankful for this friendship. This girl, who reminded me that being a free-spirit isn't so much what other people see in you but what you know exists in you. Alongside the gift I recently got from Shelbie, a second new journal, and an app that tracks my sleep schedule, I've become alive in my words again. I got up at 5:30 this morning specifically so I'd have time to write, and I am so excited to do it again tomorrow.

Sometimes, when you have a gift, it seems heavy. But all it takes is one moment, one person, one idea, to release that gift into lightness, and your entire perspective changes. In spite of the every day stress of life, of being a nanny, of being far from my family, there is a definite lightness of being. Praise the One in Existence for the gifts He has given me, and for the provisions He has made for me to flourish within them.

This is Courtney.

This is how she sees me.

Writers are typically neither as photogenic nor pretty as portrait-ers.

What happens when you get a really good gift

This week, I got a present from a dear friend of mine. She sent me a journal. It doesn't sound like that extravagant of a gift, but if you know me, you know it was right on the money. Not to mention that the detail of this one, how it speaks to exactly where I am, was incredible. I stood holding it in my hands, passing it from one to the other, totally moved by how well she knows my heart, totally enamored with the feel of the paper and string and aroma of that which is my own personal flavor of perfection, and wept.

When you get a really good gift, you're reminded of what gifts you bring to the world.

It set me on fire for the rest of the week. I immediately started using it, writing down lists I found significant and moments that churned up something in my heart, and I encouraged a new friend to draw something in it. I have carried it with me everywhere. It's a really good gift.

It followed me this week on an amazing adventure. For the first time since college, I stayed up till past 4 o'clock in the morning. I drove somewhere completely new and played board games and made new friends and allowed someone to catch my eye and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt and my eyes brimmed. I wrote down moments where I felt absolute clarity and moments where I felt entirely too much. And finally, I slipped that journal back into its hiding place so I could wander through rows and rows of merchandise being sold at a market that opens so early we simply didn't go to sleep. And I didn't even think about this blog.

Glory. I didn't even think about what to write here. I just thought about my life and the beauty of this season. I thought about what I'm really, truly feeling. I thought about where I'm headed and how, for the first time, I feel like where I'm going is where I want to be going. I thought about my heart and the strength the Lord has placed in it. I thought about my friendships back home and how I cannot wait to see those people again. And I thought deeply about the relationships I'm cultivating here and how absolutely stunned I am by their greatness. I thought about God. His Hand on my life.

It's a really good gift. And it spurred me on to a really good week. And so it continues. 

 

On being reminded

I spend a lot of my time with the same four kids. I've only been with them for two glorious months, and already, I can see their personalities clearly. They're obviously family, and they're obviously different. They are distinct. They are themselves. They each have their strengths and weaknesses, their preferences and dislikes. It's sort of incredible to see how people who are all related (and all under the age of 15) can be so unbelievably different. But there is one thing in particular at which that they are all excellent.

Competing. These kids, young as they are, understand hierarchy. They live by rules of first and last, best and worst, favorite and least. I remember learning about this is college and wondering if it was a taught or innate mindset. If I ever doubted it before, I can say certainly now, it's innate. We are born competitors. We want to be the best and have the best, and most of the time, we don't care about the cost. We don't care about the means, as long as the end is to our liking. It's dangerous.

How do I teach these kids that it's not a competition? That when I don't play along for the millionth time, it isn't because I'm disinterested or upset, but because I know that sometimes it's healthier to let it go. More importantly, how do I remind myself of the same truth? Because I can't teach anything that I don't live out myself, and as much as I wish it weren't true, I struggle a lot with competing.

I came to Australia wondering what this season would hold for me. So far, so grand. I am learning so much, am being shaped so well. I'm coming to terms with not only who I was created to be, but also what the desires of my heart are. It astounds me. But what astounds me more was that as many of my friends back home assured me that I'd find an "Australian husband" basically the minute the plane landed, an equal number of people here have told me that I shouldn't get my hopes up because there's too much competition. There are too many other eligible women here for me to compete with, so I won't meet a man.

How sad, that the culture and generation I'm part of, even in the church, are so wrapped up in this mindset of hierarchy and competition and winning that I've been told I simply will not be able to find a man. I won't be able to compete. Let's be real here. It's not a competition. Just as I'm striving to show these beautiful four children that they don't always have to win something, they don't always have to have more, the twenty-somethings of the world need to be reminded that when it comes to love, it will never be a competition.

Ladies, if you feel like you're competing for the attention of a man, he's not the right man for you. Even if he's good, even if he's Godly, even if he meets all your "criteria" (which is a whole other can of worms), if he makes you compete or if he makes you feel like you should have to, walk away. And men, if you have women competing for your attention, don't make them. Walk away. When we stop competing, we find ourselves standing next to the people with whom we are truly equally yoked. When it comes to the person with whom you'll spend your life, there will never be competition. You're his or her standard. And that will be reciprocated. Even in those early, terrifying stages where nobody is sure what's going on, the right people end up together regardless of challenges and circumstances and other people.

Gently, He reminded me this week that it's not a competition. That I will never have to compete. Where it truly matters, I have already won and as long as I continue walking faithfully and steadfastly, the competition will not be my concern. The people who are drowning in competition will not be my concern. The people who are telling me that I can't compete are not my concern. That mindset is not my concern. My concern is things above.

So let's stop competing. Let's stop acting as if we need everything in order to have anything.

When things don't go as planned, and being a "twenty-something"

Tonight I got lost. I was planning on going to a small group at 7:30. Instead, I drove around until 8:00 and upon finding the right apartment complex, couldn't find the right room and ended up driving home at 8:30, unable to contact anyone. I was frustrated.

See, it's hard enough moving to a new country and making new friends. I've done those two things. Now the new struggle is figuring out how to manage new friends while maintaining old friendships and having not a clue where anything is in this city. I get lost weekly. Sometimes bi-weekly. Sometimes twice a day, if I'm really lucky. As much as I love it here, as much as I feel at home and am confident this move was the best decision I could have made for myself, life has a way of throwing those dreaded curve balls that catch me off guard and fill me with fear and doubt. Like getting lost.

I have a choice. I can either let the frustrations that come with the weight of a move to Australia overcome me, or I can step out in faith and believe that this season is twice as rewarding as it is challenging. I can believe that this season is enriching me in ways I both see clearly and will never understand. I can sit in my car and choke back tears because, yet again, I couldn't get somewhere and nobody called to see where I was. Or I can let it go, laugh about how good I am at going nowhere, and realize that my friends here don't treat me like my friends back in the States did for two very legitimate reasons: They don't know me as well, and they aren't the same people.

On top of this, I've been reading a lot lately about the challenges of being a "twenty-something." There seem to be two sides. There are those of us who are out of school, living sort of on the cusp of everything. Some days we feel like we're waiting for real life to start and other day we realize we're living the dream. We have the time to be open to any opportunity or call. Then there are those of us who are newly married, starting "real" jobs, and beginning to see what stability tastes like. And whatever side we're on, we want the other. If we're on the fringe, we want the marriage (or at least a relationship) and the stable job and better income and new apartment or house or car or whatever. But if we have that, we want the freedom that comes with singleness, from being able to go wherever you want to being able to do whatever you want. And we all feel like we're the only ones struggling through it.

Here's what's up. Neither of those seasons is better than the other, and until we come to terms with this, we won't be happy with what we have. I long for the day when I'll be a wife, when I'll have a steadier income and my own car and place to live. I long for the day when I figure out what I want to be "when I grow up." But I love where I am now. I love having a job with flexible hours that supplies me with a place to live, a means of transportation, and a community. I love being able to spend my free time with whoever I want, being able to explore or sit at home, if I feel like it. I love everything about this season, even the things that momentarily upset me or make me wonder what in the world I'm doing. I love how this time in my life is shaping me. Guess what? If I had gotten married or started a different job, I would not be being shaped the way I am. Because everything about this season, from my singleness to my adventurousness, is both preparing me for what's next and allowing me to enjoy what's now. This season is not what I expected, but it is wonderful all the same. There's no such thing (within reason, let's not get crazy) as a bad season; there are just seasons, and they are as beneficial or detrimental as we make them to be.

I choose to make this one beneficial. And because this season will be beneficial to me and glorifying  to God, so will my next season. Whatever it may be.

Let's talk about abundance

Overflowing fullness. An extremely plentiful or oversufficient quantity or supply. Wealth. 

Among all the issues I have with society, one of the biggest is beauty. Body image. Self-worth. And in particular, in regards to women and girls. Our society puts so much pressure on beauty that it starts to create this weird dichotomy, that by saying beauty is subjective and looks aren't where we should place our greatest values, we make it wrong for women to be beautiful. It's as if we're so caught up in teaching girls that it isn't about how they look (which is true) that we forget to remind them that beauty and vanity are not the same thing. And that it's perfectly healthy to embrace femininity and beauty. Let me be clear. I believe that outward beauty if fleeting. I believe that my worth is not based on how I look or dress, but my character. I believe that my image and identity have very little to do with my physical being. I believe that real men see past the superficial. I believe that real men crave women with more to them than a pretty face. I believe real men want women to more fully understand and appreciate themselves. I believe that men like that exist. But I also believe that it's okay for women to desire beauty. But let's be real about it. Beauty is strength. It is kindness. It is a gentle and honest modesty that grows from within and consequently shines outwardly. I struggle with these things daily, but I believe them just the same.

There are so many cultures in our world. So many systems of belief, ideas about life, categories for people to try and fit. But one thing all these cultures seem to have in common is the idea of having an abundance. Having more than enough, by whatever means. I say there's more to this idea.

I say we are the abundance.

I say I not only live in a spectacularly beautiful place, but I came from one as well. Whether it's Georgia or West Pymble, the States or Australia, my world is beautiful. And I say that I carry that beauty with me. It spills out from my heart and creates abundance wherever I go. So maybe it isn't these places that are magnificent. Maybe it's me, maybe it's us, instead. Maybe it's the Love and Truth and Glory I hold in my soul. And maybe it isn't a bad thing to venture to say that I make my life beautiful. We are so beautiful that it cannot be contained in our bodies and has to bubble out of us and into the places where we experience life.

I carry beauty, because I am carried. I am an abundance, because I have been given an abundance. And there is nothing wrong with taking ownership of these things.

East coast sun sets

 

I've heard a lot of people say that they don't like overcast or rainy days because they feel as if they're trapped in a box. I think that's natural, in some ways, to feel a little more closed off when we can't see the immensity of what's above us. But I think it's also a little ridiculous, like we somehow forget that the sky is still blue. It's as if we believe the clouds haven't just covered the sky; they've occupied it completely. They haven't. It's the same sky, just hidden under a different blanket.

Perhaps the same can be said of East coast sun sets. We think they won't be as glorious because since they aren't on the West, you don't actually see the sun. But the sun sets, regardless of where we're standing, and it is just as magnificent.

Here's the thing about life: there will always be a place that seems better than wherever you are. Richer, fuller, a greener patch of proverbial grass, if you will. 

But the grass isn't greener on the other side. It's greener where you water it.

Here lately

 

Sometimes, I don't know what to write. I had lunch today with another au pair who lives nearby. We went to the same university in the States, have the same name, the same circle of friends, and we happened to meet here. Over lunch, she mentioned my blog and all I could think was that I don't have enough to write about. But truth be told, I just don't write enough. 

I used to journal every day. Not just for devotionals or quiet times, although those are now the most prevalent sources of my writing. I used to write for the sheer pleasure of having created something, for the sole reason that I could not contain myself unless I was writing. Ironic, maybe, that the only way I've ever known to contain myself is to release myself on paper.

Now, though, I want a reason to write. I want exciting stories and breathtaking photos and all the things that "professional" bloggers seem to have in abundance and I feel like I am lacking. And then I wonder why my blog isn't more successful, why my writing isn't more purposeful, why my journals aren't more weathered. 

For the past month, I thought I'd moved to Australia to start fresh, but maybe the reality is I came here because I need to get back to my roots. So here's what's happened lately.

I went to Bondi Beach on Tuesday with my lovely new friend Melissa. We enjoyed a leisurely walk around the beach, snapping pictures as we felt so inclined and taking in the beautiful scenery and weather. After a while, we made our way back to a coffee shop where we had sub-par coffee (I've had two decent cups in the last five weeks, and I'm seriously missing Blackbird of Milledgeville) and delicious banana bread and carrot cake. I made it back to Baulkham Hills in time for Hillsong's chapel service and a quick lunch on the front lawn of Hillsong before sitting in on a Christian Doctrine class that several of my friends are taking. I spent the afternoon with my friend Gina and her lovely housemates and finished off the evening with an overwhelmingly delightful small group. The things I am learning about myself, the things the Father is revealing to me about myself and His plans for me, they manage to comfort and excite me all at the same time. This week has clarified for me the difference between seizing opportunities and obeying calls, and I am so glad to know my time here is about more than just what I can do for myself; it's about the plan that has already been set in motion for me. Delightful.

This weekend will be spent adventuring with new friends and enjoying the community the Lord has blessed me with.

Here lately doesn't seem so exciting when it's on paper. But in person, it's breathtaking.

At Bondi Beach, enjoying the immensity.

This girl has been such a good presence in my life. So thankful.

Tourist.

Pounding the rock.

Childlike.

The life in this place seriously amazes me.

Community.

What I've decided about homesickness

People keep asking me if I'm experiencing it. Homesickness, that is. And I keep saying no, not really, I don't feel homesick. I'm happier than I've been in months. I'm busier, but more peaceful. I feel a stronger sense of purpose than I've known for a long time. I'm making friends, I'm getting settled, I'm beginning to make plans for the future, outside of being an au pair. I'm growing in love for my host family while maintaining healthy relationships with people in Georgia. I feel utterly confirmed. I feel at home.

Then it turns to evening and then dusk and I realize the people I want to share my day with are miles and miles away and hours and hours different and I think, maybe I am a little homesick. Not in the traditional sense, not in the sense that I desperately want to be in Milledgeville or am depressed without my family and friends, but in the sense that I yearn for the things that make a place a home. Because in learning to make Australia home, I miss the things that had built it for me back in the States.

I miss having people to text and meet up with in five minutes. I miss having the opportunity to see my family. I miss living in close enough proximity to others that time spent together could as easily be spontaneous as planned. I miss having a cat, having an apartment of my own, being known. And I've come to realize that these things I miss are not things that are particular to Milledgeville but things that I will cultivate here as well, in time.

So yes, I guess I'm a little homesick. But I know it will pass, as do all seasons. And in its passing, a new home will be built up and strengthened and fortified with the same courage it took me to come here.

In other news, being an au pair is an incredible thing. Apparently, I'm bad at blogging about it. More on that later, maybe.

The road ahead is a good one.
[from Lane Cove National Park]

Overwhelming.

I met these women at Hillsong recently. They're both from Georgia.
They help make this place more home-y, and I'm grateful.