On being an explorer

One of the things I embraced when I moved to Australia was a spirit of adventurousness. I was ready to learn more about the world than I already knew, to step into things that frightened me, to become more than I had been. I was ready to see every sight, from the tourist attractions to the hidden treasures, and I felt limitless. As I've settled in here, though, that spirit has waned just a little bit, making way for a more at-home sort of adventure.

I find that I become more adventurous when I meet new people. We go to see things I've not yet seen and I'm reminded all over again of why I love the adventure. Sometimes we go to see things they've not but I have and I discover newness in the familiar and I feel that spirit well up inside of me.

There's something to be said for going somewhere totally different, for immersing yourself in a brand new journey and discovering everything you can. But there's something to be said, also, for learning how to explore what you think you already know.

 

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Adventure is out there

I stood at the kitchen counter this morning drinking coffee and thinking, "Am I happy here? Is this what it feels like to be happy? To be moving forward?" I was struck by the notion that there was no conflict in me. I'd forgotten what it felt like to truly be still, to have contentment. To find it in such a place - where I know very few people and am unfamiliar with the area and culture and I'm not sure where this year is leading - is a wonder. One of those moments that makes you marvel. There's something to be said for packing your life in two suitcases and a backpack and moving to the other side of the world. When I figure out what it is, I'll let you know.

Things I've learned in the past week:

1. There's always an opportunity for pictures, so don't be afraid to be the person lugging around a camera.
2. Small touches make a room feel home-y, and having a room that feels home-y keeps the homesickness at bay.
3. The toilets don't really flush the other way (Sorry, Dr. Burt...)
4. Driving on the other side of the road is terrifying.
5. Kids are some of the most accepting people on the planet, so surrounding yourself with them is wise.
6. Community matters; when you build one, build one with purpose, one that will carry you and let you reciprocate.
7. Most importantly, the accents here? They really are that cool.