Cup of joe

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you all my favorite things about being a newlyed. How the turning of my husband in our bed, early every morning, gently shakes me from sleep. How the door opening each afternoon as he arrives home from work makes me giddy. How the simplicity of vinyls playing while we cook dinner together seems far more exciting than anything I ever did as a single woman.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you that I'm not reading this month as much as I should be, but the book is still good.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you that I've been practicing my hand-lettering and have found it to be totally thrilling. I'd tell you how refreshing it is to know that I am good at something new, to see a far-fetched hobby come into fruition.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you how I'm longing for picture frames. I'd tell you that the last final touches of this first round of new-home-decorating are almost complete, if only we could find picture frames to hang our favorite captures. I'd tell you that this process of settling and nesting has been a lesson in patience and contentment and boy, am I thankful for it.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd tell you my plans for this space over this still new year. I'd tell you my ideas for monthly posts and new series and I'd tell you how excited I am to put new shape to this blog, even if it remains laregly unnoticed.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I'd speak quietly, because I have lost my voice this week. I'd tell you that I'm enjoying sitting in my own silence and appreciating this month of stillness, because come March, my work rights will come through and life will be far busier than it is these days.

If you were to sit down with me for a cup of coffee today, I would thank you for sitting and listening, and I would ask with great interest, what's new with you?

How are you taking your coffee this morning, and what sorts of conversations are you having? 

Weekly things

 

On Mondays,  I change sheets. On Tuesdays, I iron three school uniforms. On Wednesdays, I work in the city. On Thursdays, I iron four school uniforms. On Friday, I sleep until the sun gently coaxes me awake. And once a week, on whatever night it happens to fall, I go on a date.

Every week, I do a lot of the same things. Don't we all? So much of life seems to be a steady stream of have-to's that have a way of running us ragged, no matter what our schedules are like. In the midst of this kind of urgent lifestyle, it's important to slow down.

When Stephen and I started dating, we talked about what sort of time we'd spend together. Since we live nearly an hour apart and we both work, it was a priority to both of us to make the other a priority. I'm glad he saw it that way. Now, we've gotten into a comfortable groove in our relationship. We see each other, normally, four or five days out of the week (I'm so grateful we get so much time together, believe me), but we work at dedicating one of those nights to something special. Whether it's going to the Opera House for a show, walking along the harbour with ice cream, or going out to dinner at a new spot, that night out is always a treat. It's a time to get a little dressed up, let him treat me, and wrap ourselves in romance. 

I told him the other day how glad I was that even though we've become so at ease with each other, we've managed to keep things fresh. And I know it's still early, and if we're lucky enough to make it together for years and years to come, these past few months will feel like nothing. But the thing is, they won't have been. Whether we're young or old, new or regular, date nights are teaching me to neither take any part of our relationship for granted nor discount any part of it.

It's a good season.

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.

Endeavors

Sometimes exciting things happen when you least expect them.

Like your boyfriend breaking ground (virtually, for the moment) on his own company. Like getting to write e-mails and Facebook statuses for him and feeling like part of the coolest club. Like being given the opportunity to work for a non-profit launching in Sydney in a few months, doing work that directly relates to what you studied in university and is for a cause so worthy it overwhelms.

Like being able to do these things and still be an au pair.

Sometimes when you come into a season, you think it's too good to be true. Like there's no way you could be the person chosen for such great heights, entrusted with such great people. But sometimes, too good to be true is just good enough and just true enough and the taste of coffee in the morning is the gentle pinch you need to remind yourself that this is real life.

Check out Lankie on Facebook or here to find out what Stephen's doing and check out International Justice Mission Australia here to learn more about the non-profit for whom I'm serving as Communications Intern.

These last 10 days

...have been a whirlwind of frustration and satisfaction, stress and relaxation, holiday bustle and slow summer heat. Between the end-of-school rush, Christmas shopping and celebrating, and making the transition to sundresses and shorts (in December no less), I have to remind myself to breathe. I have to remind myself that this is real life; I came to Australia almost six months ago and I'm still here. Happy, content, joy overdosing.

This is a season of acceptance. Of knowing both where I am and where I'm headed, and realizing the perfection in both. With the new year approaching quickly, there rarely seems to be enough time to accomplish the daily routines, let alone leave time for a complicated thought process about resolutions or reflections or whatever. There is only this place, this day, and the promise that it is all getting better and better, up and up.

 

 

On family and the holiday season

Today, I dropped my mom off at the airport and we said a tearful till next time. She arrived in Sydney last weekend and we spent this week exploring and catching up. I was glad to have some good, old-fashioned Mama advice (not that it's been lacking, but there's just something about face-to-face that's better, you know?). She came loaded with Christmas presents and some of my favorite treats from home; I sent her home with gifts for my family and for her. To name a few adventures, we strolled on the beaches, fed and petted kangaroos and koalas, and wandered through gardens designed to imitate other countries. We drank over-priced lattes while she listened to my heart about work, relationships, and where I want to go from here. She helped me draw up a new budget for my finances, and I was so grateful to have a mother who is still willing to help me and build me up. My host family cooked us a beautiful dinner for her birthday, which is in two days, and also let us cook them an American Thanksgiving. I had the whole week off, thanks to a wonderful host family and grandparents, and really, it couldn't have come at a better time.

The holidays are right around the corner. So getting to spend some time with my mom was fantastic. There's a space in my life, no matter how dreamy Oz is, that's family shaped, and there are so often moments or experiences that I wish I could share with my parents and brother. Having Mom here was amazing, and I know that as great as the holidays will be, it'll be a little tough being apart this year. But I think what's hardest is coming to terms with all the things I've left behind for the time being. I've been putting a lot of thought and effort into what a temporary or permanent relocation to Australia would look like, and it's sort of daunting to look back home and see, truly, what it means to leave.

Moving on means everyone else moves on as well. And as you grow up, so does everyone else. And as much as you want that hometown to always be the same as when you left, it won't be. So this holiday season, as much as it is exploration and new opportunities, is bittersweet. Bittersweet because it's summer, not winter. Because it's a new family and new friends and new traditions, which are all lovely, but are not mine. Because it's the start of a new year and a new country, and I have close to no idea where I'll be living in the next 12 months. But I also know who I am and where I want to be headed, and I'm blessed enough to have family that will support me and love me through it, no matter the cost or the distance.

So to my mom, happy almost birthday and thank you so very much for coming to see me. It was a joy showing you my life here, and now more than ever, I am certain that being your daughter is an honor, to say the least. You are the most incredible woman and have given me everything I need to find joy wherever I am, and I cannot thank you enough for being my mama. And to my dad, thanks for sharing her with me. I'm not sure what this next year will hold for me, but I know I will carry you both with me, and that is a comfort like no other.

Here's to seasons that bring comfort and joy, in the new and the old, alike. To family, biological and otherwise. To life, whatever season you're in.

In other news, Olivia just turned 8 and Lachlan has a new set of words to learn, so things are quite exciting in the nanny world.

Seasons

Our lives, generally, are ruled by cycles. What's trendy, what's next, what's new. Recently, though, I've realized more than ever how much of our lives are ruled by the cycles that come with seasons. We associate certain times of the year with certain feelings and expectations, from fashion to tradition. It's a tender familiarity that makes even the most hectic of days a little more survivable. We always know what's coming, even if it's months down the road.

Moving to the other side of the world changes that. As November comes to a close, I find myself ready for chilly nights and hot cider. I long for weather reports that promise snow even though I know it's not likely. I want long socks and warm soups and miserably cold Christmas tree shopping. Instead, I'm getting a tan (Except the past two weeks which have been cool enough to convince me the hemispheres are merging). And it's made me wonder how much of my favorite things became my favorite things because of what I've grown to associate them with? Is Christmas only Christmas when your breath freezes in front of you?

The past few months have been a whirlwind, and I have enjoyed every second of this not-looking-back season. I'm learning to move forward by pushing forward. I've learned that a daily grind can be a beautiful thing, if you have the right perspective. And now, the desire to look back creeps up again. As the end of the year looms and brings a multitude of changes with it, I have to remember to look forward. To enjoy this hot Christmas and learn from it. Where I was one Christmas ago was different in a million ways, and it's a season I do not want to have again. So maybe the change in the weather is exactly what I need.

Beaches and ice cream and outdoor movies sound like the perfect way to send out this year, don't you think?

When it happens...

It won't be how you expected, how you imagined, how you discussed with all your friends over coffee or ice cream or movies. It will be the easiest thing in the world, fast enough to make you wonder where the days are going and when, exactly, did it change. It will be slow enough to make you comfortable in the vulnerability.

Your too much will be just enough and it will feel like floating. The rest of the world won't disappear and time won't stand still, but it won't matter. Because sometimes, a lot of the time, most of the time, reality is better.

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 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.

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.

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.