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.

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.

The Gathering and other gatherings

One of my friends texted me a few days ago and asked if I had yet to see a kangaroo. Sadly, my answer remains no. Between working and trying to settle in and serving at Hillsong Church, it's hard to find time to go adventuring, but I felt like a disappointment for not having done anything exciting in my first three weeks here. It took me back to what I blogged last week or the week before about realizing my worth and worthiness of interest, regardless of the circumstances, but it also made me see that my threshold of adventure has shifted slightly. Yesterday, the youngest girl I nanny, Olivia, lost her second front tooth. And we celebrated. And that was enough. When Lachlan spells all his words for the week correctly, we celebrate. Yes, I am living in an extraordinarily beautiful country, and I cannot wait to experience and explore all it has to offer (and hopefully that starts this weekend with a girls' night out!), but I'm just as thrilled to be part of a new family and share in their small joys. Being here is great. The things I'll get to do here will be great. But that doesn't discount the worth of my time here without them. If I never see a kangaroo this year, I will still consider this trip worthy and wonderful.

This thought process led me to this gem, which talks about recognizing the purpose behind our blogs. It was such a treat for me to take this in. Naturally, my hope in starting this blog was to share my time in Australia, whatever that looked like, but it's a story I want to be read often and eagerly. As people, when we take ownership of our narrative, it's because we want them to be seen. We want them to be grand. We want them to be monumental. So what if nobody ever reads this? What's the point, then?

My first instinct is to say that while I'm relatively crafty and a decent cook and baker and I have an eye for design and an offbeat fashion sense, I'm a writer. But even before that, I have to say that I'm a professional communicator, and my favorite avenue happens to be the written word. Communication is what I've studied. It's what I love. It's what I do. It's how I live. This blog is about communicating, to however large an audience, pieces of my life, in hopes of encouraging every reader to live hopefully and eagerly. The purpose behind this hope is hard for me to type out, because I know that a lot of the people who will read this will be related to me, and have different beliefs. But I'm learning now more than ever that family is family, that my family has taught and shown me acceptance and love in spite of our differences, and greater than my desire to be someone my family can be proud of, what I believe demands to be proclaimed.

The purpose behind this blog is to communicate the hope of Christ, through my job as a nanny, through my time serving at Hillsong, through the friendships I am building. Last night, our young adults ministry hosted an event called The Gathering. It was, simply, a night of worship. It was not simple. I spent the day in Baulkham Hills, helping my sweet new friend Melissa set up a concierge service to host guests from other churches in the area. I spent the evening surrounded by men and women ushering each other into the Throne Room. It was spectacular. A turning point, if you will.

I'm learning a lot here. About who I am and who I want to be. It hasn't been easy and I know it won't always be easy, but it is a joy. Whoever this blog serves, whatever it accomplishes, it is my hope that it would exude kindness and gentleness and acceptance. And that it will soon host pictures of kangaroos. Because believe it or not, I'm in Australia!

A snapshot from The Gathering. Power House all day, for the Kingdom.

Macaroons and life lessons

Last night, we had a sleepover. In addition to my usual four kiddos, there were two other girls staying with us. There was lots of screaming and giggling and sliding across the kitchen floor in socks with music (American hits, I might add) playing just a bit too loudly. We made cookies with the little kids and after they had gone to bed, we sat down on the couch with our salted caramel macaroons and gummy bears and put on a chick flick.

About halfway through the movie, Georgia, one of the girls who lives just around the corner, turned to me and said, "You could be a model." My response? I'm not tall enough. Immediately, Hayley lit up, because at 13 she's already a few inches taller than I am and still growing. But this news had the opposite effect on Georgia, who is much shorter. The conversation that followed this exchange had a lot to do with the girls saying they all wanted to be models because they're beautiful and me encouraging them to strive for careers that don't place their identity on what they look like or wear or eat. It was as if no one had put into words for them the truth that who they are as girls, and someday women, has very little to do with their outward appearance.

It's hard, teaching girls that while it's okay to look nice, there is so much more to a self. Especially when the conversation is happening in the middle of a movie that translates a message almost completely the opposite. It got me thinking about the things that I've learned, even just this year. I was lucky enough to grow up being taught that my dreams should never be limited, largely because my mother is a woman who balances a successful marriage with a fiercely independent spirit. Life takes its toll, though, particularly on young girls throughout puberty and high school and the ups and downs of college. Then this morning, I asked a friend back in the States what he's doing nowadays, and he said that his life is pretty repetitive right now, not at all exciting like mine. That kind of threw me, because as a nanny, my life is pretty repetitive, too. It's just different than it was two weeks ago, and it's an adventure because I've decided it will be.

The grass isn't greener on the other side; it's greener where you water it.

So what's the connection? Girls think they have to hold the interest of men, of the world, of everything around them. But that's not our responsibility. I started this blog because I felt like my life was suddenly worthy of interest, but truthfully, it always has been. It always will be. Knowing that, knowing my life is and I am worthy of interest, is my responsibility. I'm not so far off from those four girls I talked to last night, realizing little by little that my worth as a woman is not tied up in how many people are interested in me, in how many people keep coming back for more. Just as it's not their job to be pretty. As Katie Makkai said in her slam poem Pretty, they will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But they will never be merely pretty. And the same goes for me.

I don't know if this post makes much sense, but I know it's important to realize that what I want to accomplish this year, at least in part, is helping the children I invest in realize there is greater Truth than they know. We are chosen, we are loved, we matter. And I'm so grateful that the things they bring to my attention help me see what I want them to see.

Seriously, so so good.