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.

 

 

This is water

This week, something popped up on my Facebook news feed that caught my attention. It was a link to something on Upworthy, a website filled with emotionally charged videos and articles pointed at bringing out the best in people. Things that make you think or laugh or cry or wonder. This video in particular is a speech, made into a video, given by David Foster Wallace at Kenyon College, nearly 10 years ago. The point was to wake up a group of soon-to-be-graduates and help them realize that while "the real world" is a place for which we're all reaching, it's also a place where many of us fall flat on our faces. And we fall flat because we aren't well prepared. Life, up into our mid-twenties, teaches us a plethora of lessons, ranging from when to not take a joke too far to how to appropriately conduct yourself in a job interview, but all of these things create this idealistic "adult world," where, once you're out of school, your life becomes whatever it is meant to become. But let's be honest...that's not how it works. Life is tough, whether you're in school or working a 9-5 or backpacking across Europe, and whether your life is good or not depends much more heavily on your perspective than your circumstance.

It made me think, long and hard, about my own life. I was incredibly blessed to have parents who taught me to be humble and considerate. I was incredibly blessed to be part of a university department with four professors whose collective wisdom is absolutely mind-boggling. I've learned a lot about how little I actually know, and how that doesn't diminish my value in society. I've learned that the world isn't my playground, because it belongs to and was created for so much more than my own desires. I've learned that what I want is a lot different than what I need, and if I'm too focused on the former, my version of the latter will always be skewed. Being an au pair is hard. When a child decides that "Please go get dressed for school" means "Throw a water balloon at your sister" or when at 10:00 at night, you realize you forgot to make lunches, so that's an extra 20 minutes of your morning or when the laundry won't fold itself and nobody likes green beans and you start to see yourself in those kids just enough that you wonder how your parents didn't go insane. But this has still been, hands down, the most monumental five months of my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

It isn't because my job is perfect. All jobs have benefits and downsides, and if all you're looking for is the perfect job, you'll probably end up quite disappointed, time and time again. It's because I wake up and am glad to be in Oz. I am glad to be part of this family. I am glad that I have a strong community and excellent friendships and a kind gentleman. And sometimes, I get frustrated too easily and I have to remind myself, this is life. This is not just about me.

We forget that the world doesn't revolve around us. We forget that the traffic jam isn't out to annoy just us or the delayed flight isn't ruining only our holiday travels. We make mountains out of mole-hills far more easily than we celebrate the little things, and in doing so, we seriously discredit the greatness of our existence. Get this: Your whole life is overflow. The world doesn't owe you anything, and unless you work really really really hard, your big dreams will rarely come to fruition. I'm not saying minimize your potential or want less for yourself. I'm just saying the only things you'll achieve are the things you're willing to suffer for. The things you're actually grateful for. The things you can truly step away from and realize aren't about you, but about things beyond you. The world is bigger. You are a part (an important part, to be sure), but not the whole. So be a part worth having.

Here is the video that reminded me I'm not a clueless fish. I know where I am. I know what's around me. And I have the freedom to choose how I react to every situation in my life. Maybe growing up doesn't happen when you get a diploma or buy your first suit or have a steady income. Maybe it starts when you're confident that your life won't happen when you've reached some proverbial destination. It started when you were born. This is it.

The myth of fresh-starts

At the beginning of this year, it became clear that I needed a fresh start. It brought me into a season of singleness, into a new job, into a new country. It brought me countless new friendships and adventures and the sort of self-discoveries and awareness about which people dream. This fresh start for which I fought so valiantly and steadfastly brought me more than I ever imagined, but beyond those things, it brought me a nugget of truth that I wasn't sure I wanted. There's no such thing as a fresh start.

Sure, we can move to a new country and take a new job and completely rebuild our community, but the fact remains that all those things we want a fresh start from will still be with us. Those things shape us, they change us radically, and we can't escape them. Our pasts are part of us, even as we move beyond them, and in carrying the weight of all the places we've been and people we've met, it's almost laughable to believe we'll somehow be able to throw them off and have a fresh start.

I came here needing a change, needing something more. But I also came trying to outrun something that had become part of me. Not just something that had happened, but something that had built a new part of me. Something that had become part of my story and my journey and any destination I find. So why did I think I'd be able to get rid of it?

This weekend, I went to see Romeo and Juliet at the Sydney Opera House with a friend of mine. The show was spellbinding and the company quite nice, and we spent the afternoon talking about life - where we've been and where we're going. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, he said something to me, and the gist of it was that this past part of me that I try to avoid has had an impact on how some people see me. And it wrecked my heart in the best kind of way. The I-really-need-to-deal-with-this kind of way, mixed with who-cares-what-anyone-else-says kind of way and I saw in myself a strength I didn't know I had. A strength to say my fresh start isn't just around the corner. It just isn't, and the sooner I stop chasing it, the sooner I'll be able to revel in the glory of where I am and how I got here. The sooner I stop chasing it, the sooner I'll be able to claim every nitty gritty part of my baggage and stop wondering if it will change things. Of course it will change things. But that's absolutely okay.

So here's to admitting that fresh starts are usually nowhere to be found, and maybe it's better that way. Maybe instead of trying to release the hurts and struggles of our who-we-weres, we should cling to them a little more tightly, allowing them to create in us glorious, tender hearts that are strong enough to come out of the storm better than we were before.

Who we were doesn't have to define who we are or who we will be. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing for who we were to have a little say in the matter.

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.

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.

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.]

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.