Finding the perfect fit

This week I enjoyed some much needed dolce far niete, the sweetness of doing nothing. Carefree, easy. I slept past 7:00 and allowed myself to spend my mornings cozy, in bed with coffee and a new book. I made waffles for lunch with my gentleman and we watched movies and read some more, side by side. I explored familiar parts of my city with my friends and found new treasures in places I least expected. I cried heavily over how exhausted I found myself and then ate handfuls of peanut m&ms to make up for the sadness.

I was glad for the company and I was glad for the solitude.

And in the mix of it all, over more waffles and bacon and fruit, I found myself recognizing a youthfulness in myself that seemed almost unfamiliar. Because, you see, this tender gentleman is bringing out the best in me in the best of ways. We ride in the ute listening to bands that I haven't heard in three years, at least, and I still know every lyric. And I am reminded of frisbee after band practice, of swinging at the park after my first college classes, of midnight trips to waffle house and moving out of my parents' house for the first time, of summer and fall and their respective sounds. We cook dinner and eat ice cream and I am reminded of the first time I cooked dinner. We read together and I remember every word I have ever read. We spend time apart and I am reminded of every person I have ever missed. I am reminded of all the things I've left behind.

He teaches me that bringing out the best in someone means realizing that the best parts of you are not always necessarily caught up in who you are right now. The best in you hides in realizations you had at 17 and decisions you made at 19 and adventures you had at 21. The best of you rests not only in who you have become and where you are going, but the deepest, most soulful places you've come from. Instead of always moving forward, bringing out the best in someone allows the sweetest of backward glances, not to compare or wonder or wallow, but to recognize that even though some of the best is yet to come, some of it has already been.

What a wonderful discovery.

PB&J Picnic before the NYE fireworks over the Harbour Bridge. I was reminded of every new year celebrated thus far, traditions built and buried, and why this new year holds promises far surpassing any I have ever imagined. And I have a great imagination.

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.

On being well-rested

I don't have nightmares anymore. Which, you know, doesn't seem like that grand of an accomplishment because I'm 23 and have slept alone and without a night-light for years. Believe me, it's a big deal.

Nightmares are as common for me as ice cream cones are to hot summer days. I crept into my parents' bed for safety until I was at least 8, and it wasn't until my mom told me I'd have to sleep on the floor next to the bed that I stopped (monsters would have had much easier access to me from the floor, obviously). When that fateful day came that Mom and Dad gently insisted I learn to stay in my own bed, I gradually got used to the nightmares. I learned how to recognize when I was dreaming and how to wake myself when my subconscious got too intense. I stopped trying to sleep through the night and got used to waking up three or four times, at least. I stopped thinking people were actually in the room with me when I woke, realizing they were just figments of my imagination, appearing almost like holograms when I was awake enough to realize I had had a nightmare but still sleepy enough to have the images persist. I stopped thinking it was unusual to sleep so restlessly.

Suffice it to say, nightmares and I know each other quite well. I can tell you all about the ones I've had multiple times, from the age of 4 up to my twenties. People are shocked when I tell them I've never slept through the night, I can't sleep without my back to the wall or against a pillow, I have to have a stuffed animal with me to get to sleep. It's just become a part of who I am. So when I got to Australia, I didn't expect it to change.

I sleep through the night now. And I haven't had a nightmare in two months.

At first I attributed it to simply being more tired. Dealing with children can be exhausting, and having such a busy and hectic schedule makes for early bedtimes. But the longer I go, I begin to see that it's more than just weariness.

My heart and mind are at peace, in a way they never have been before. It's not to say I was chronically unhappy before now. Because I wasn't. But something inside me is different, cleaner, newer. I never thought my body would stop battling itself, never thought my mind would be reconciled to the night. But it has, and it has. I am so grateful.

I finally know how to rest.

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.

A little background

 

Sometimes when I'm getting ready for bed and the house is so quiet you can almost imagine there aren't four children upstairs, I stop and wonder for a moment what it would be like if things had gone the way they were supposed to.

If in January, my heart hadn't been broken by a man who wasn't ready for the ring that was already on my finger. If the month that followed hadn't spilled over with texts I shouldn't have been faced with. If he'd been faithful. If he'd been honest about the depth of his sin, with anyone. If the most private details of my life hadn't been considered public knowledge in a town so small that I had virtually no secrets. If the next man I met hadn't disregarded me because my life, as a consequence of things out of my control, was too dramatic. If people hadn't been passing judgements. If we'd been right for each other. If I hadn't been passing judgements. If I hadn't been hating myself for not being enough. If I hadn't decided to move away, to clean my slate, to have people know about my life at my own pace instead of all at once.

But all those things did happen, and it's August, and here I am in Australia. Confident that I made the right choice in ending things, in not taking him back when he decided he'd made a mistake, in telling the truth even when it hurt even more.

If things had gone the way they were supposed to, I wouldn't be here. I'd be married, I'd be in Georgia, I'd be working a job that I hated. Instead, I'm completely at peace with the woman the Lord has created me to be, joyful in the knowledge that the man He has for me will be beyond my wildest dreams, content with myself and my worth and my identity. Instead, I'm in Australia, working a job that teaches me so much and that makes me so incredibly happy. Instead, I'm serving at Hillsong Church and building up one of the best communities I've ever known. I've learned that it's okay that this happened; we weren't what was best for each other, we didn't bring out the best in each other. I've learned that it's okay for me to say I'm happier without him, as he is without me, and that just as I will meet someone better suited for me, so will he.

Who cares that my life got a little off track? This thing, that I have fought against, kicking and screaming and agonizing over, is a part of my story. An important part. It has helped me seek the Lord more fervently, wholeheartedly understanding His goodness and mercy and desires for me. It has created in me a strong and gentle heart. It has shown me all the things about me that I loathe, and it has shown me how to change those things as I can and learn to accept them when I can't. Maybe most importantly, it has reminded me that my story isn't just about me. It is also about the people who will hear it, who can grow from it, be comforted by it, avoid mistakes because of it.

It got me here. And that is truly the way it's supposed to be.

[to that guy: thank you for allowing me to share part of our story here. thank you for not being my future. thank you for setting me free of being yours.]