Born for a purpose {an exercise in patience}

A week or so back, I read this visually stunning post Remaliah had written on La Cigale - a far more exotic name than if it had just been entitled Cicada.

We too have been collecting cicada skins at our place, initially for Noah's class project as the children are going to make a giant room sign for their class out of the skins. We thought we'd done well collecting 50-odd over the course of a few days, but our number soon multiplied when a gorgeous friend of mine Aneleise who writes over at A Fresh Approach found me at Friday football and handed over a rather large bag of the skins for us to use as she'd seen a picture of Noah on Facebook out collecting in his pyjamas and wanted to help.

We have 292 cicada skins in an ice cream container sitting on the table waiting to be taken into school. And it got me thinking...there's a lesson hidden in there amongst those fragile, golden husks that once held life.

In the creatures who lie dormant and still underground for up to 17 years.

Waiting, biding their time for just the right moment. Preparing. In the ultimate test of patience.

And when that moment comes, how do they know? They know because it's what they were born to do.

They know to slowly inch their way to the surface. To shed the restrictions of the tight skin that has kept them alive all these years. And when they emerge the whole world knows. Their call a cacophony that rises and falls, rises and falls from dawn to dusk like a summer symphony playing every day in the last bittersweet weeks of summer.

They only live up to 40 days at best.

Seventeen years of waiting, and forty days of singing. Then it's all over.

It's not unlike the story of our Saviour. He grew up in relative anonymity for 30 years, and it was only in the last 3 years of his life that he fulfilled his mission and purpose in his ministry.

Imagine that. Thirty years of waiting to birth a dream. But all the while preparing his heart for what was to come.

It gives me hope that the dreams I hold secretly, deep in my heart will also come to pass. And I realise that the waiting that wildly frustrates at times and makes me wonder if it will ever happen is actually incredibly necessary. A heart is being prepared, being readied, day by day. I may not see it now, but when I look back I will see the imperceptible tiny shifts that are needed to take me from here to there....

And if the cicada can wait seventeen years to serve his purpose, surely I can choose patience in the now, until the time is right....

Living in an imperfekt world

When you read that title - the first thing you wanted to point out was that I'd spelt imperfect wrong wasn't it? Did it grate on your sensibilities knowing that imperfect is just NOT spelt that way. Even when I look at it  my fingers itch to go back and change it - they want to, they really do.

Inspiration for these thoughts on imperfection sprung from the calendar we have hanging on the wall of our bedroom. Each year the school uses kids' art as a fundraiser for parents to get suckered into buying calendars and cards. So, of course, we dutifully oblige. This year Noah's picture is (what else!) a dinosaur. But you see, every time I look at the picture it immediately reminds me of imperfection. The tail just isn't in proportion - apparently the dye ran or something while he was doing it he said - so his brontosauraus or whatever it is - has this really fat looking tail. I find myself wishing I could find a way to make it look 'right' but then I stop and realise that looking at that old dinosaur tail is actually making me appreciate the imperfection in this world. Making me realise that we do live in a completely broken and imperfect world. One that I will never change.

At times I know my desire for perfectionism in my own life can be my undoing. Case in point, I read my blog posts multiple times checking for spelling and grammar errors. You have no idea how annoying it is when it's actually published live and I spot a mistake that I didn't manage to pick up on the first 5 times of reviewing it! Of course I then have to go and edit the post and fix it - you other perfectionists out there will understand this wee quirk I'm sure.

Another thing I used to be terrible at and still sometimes have to stop myself doing is correcting others when they've pronounced something wrong or said something that isn't quite right. My hubby would challenge me to admit I'm Mrs "Always Right" in an argument and you know what I'm not that proud of holding that title. Sure, I know there's a time and a place for making sure things are said and done correctly when it really is a matter of life and death, but what does it really matter if hubby pronounces 'bald' as 'bold' and Mylo calls 'today' 'this day'? Not much.

I actually believe there's one good reason why nobody and nothing is perfect in this world - it's because only Heaven will be.

Jesus came to earth as a human - he understood what it is like to be a human, to be imperfect. Yet he came from a perfect place. Imagine how hard THAT must have been not to just wave a magic wand over all the problems he saw and just FIX them ALL there and then. Because he could have done it, and he didn't.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of glory. Glory as of the only son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:16

The perfection that Jesus brought into this world was in the words he spoke. Truth, perfect truth. Like a laser beam light shining into a dark, dark world, he left us with his words for all time.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5

And the reason that Earth is still here now as it was 2,000 years ago, broken and imperfect? It's because we are MEANT to yearn for something more - we are meant to have a hole in our soul that can only be filled with the knowledge of Him. We are meant to long for the perfection that awaits in a pure and perfect place - where an eternity of perfection awaits. Just imagine that for a moment. Our imperfect minds cannot even begin to comprehend what the word 'eternity' means. We want to think we do, but we really have NO idea.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that none may boast. Ephesians 2:8-9

So it is when we, broken and imperfect, come to Him, acknowledge that in our own limited understanding what happens in this world is really too much to bear, too painful to understand at times, and that the only answer is that there MUST BE MORE. And it is THIS belief, THIS faith that saves us. Faith in a perfect Creator who knows the end of the story. He's read all the chapters from start to finish. Scratch that - he actually wrote the whole damn book!

And what does being saved by faith do? It gives the ability to give grace to others when they are less than perfect. When they disappoint us and let us down as people always will. And it gives us a resounding measure of grace to live out our own messed-up, tear-stained, and incredibly complicated lives in the knowledge that this world in its awful awesomeness is not the end.

And I thank the Lord for that.

'Simplify' and 'be'

These are my words for this year.

There's a whole lot more knocking around within the walls of those ten letters than you might imagine. For me it's all these things:

• Less is more
• Don't be afraid to say no
• In fact, say no more often
• You don't have to be all things to all people all the time
• Think twice about my reasons for doing something - is it adding value to my family's life or creating undue stress and busyness
• Declutter heart, mind and home
• Be present in the little moments of life
• 'Doing' is not the same as 'being'
• Protect against busyness and over scheduling

God also put a phrase on my heart loud and clear recently:

Love me and everything else will be....

I've thought a lot about what that phrase means. It's a simple statement. But everything else will be.......what? Good? Better? OK? Amazing? For some one who likes to put things in their rightful place neat and tidy, it's enough to drive me to distraction that it's left so open to interpretation.

The point is I think the word 'be' is deliberately and purposely meant to be left that way. I believe He's saying if you really truly love me and trust me, I'll take care of the rest. Everything else will happen as it is meant to happen, and there's no need for striving and trying to do it all in your own strength.

One of my ongoing failings is that. Striving. I've had words in the past telling me I don't need to strive. That He's got my back. But when it's inherent in my personality to be a perfectionist and an over achiever, it's pretty hard not to fall into a habit of striving as a normal mode of operation when I approach any given day and any given task. I know full well that I try to engineer an outcome that I desire by trying my best, my hardest, doing whatever it takes to make it happen, or to get a task done, an event completed, or a situation resolved and ticked off. I'm NOT very good at  leaning into Him and giving it over and saying 'in your time, and in your will'.

This year I find myself the opportunity to trust Him with something BIG. There's this impossible dream in my heart that I'm believing for. I'm almost scared to because it's going to take a lot of faith, and so much has to fall into place to turn this dream into a reality. It's all too tempting to focus on the things I could do, must do to try and make it happen instead of trusting that if it's His will, it will come to be.

There it is that word again. BE. 

I get a sneaky feeling me and BE are going to become much better acquainted this year.

Through his eyes: when life changed forever

On New Years Day (cue very heavy rain in Wellington) I decided I'd tidy up some of the cupboards around the house, and I came across a copy of The Sandbox magazine (Wellington Region Parents Centre bi-monthly mag). I'd kept this particular edition all these years because an email that Mark had written to friends and family on the arrival of Noah ended up being published as an article in the magazine about 'Dad's perspective' on birth stories. Here's what he had to say:

**************

I'm going to try and keep this short and sweet, as I've just got back from the hospital and am dying for some food, a shower and a sleep.

Meghan gave birth to our little boy (Noah George) at 10.54am this morning Wednesday 2nd August 2006 after a very quick birth. The sequence of events unfolded as follows...

Yesterday, Meghan complained she just didn't feel right. She still managed to walk into town (a half hour walk) and meet some friends for lunch, but later returned home feeling a little sick.  Having put this down to what she ate at lunchtime, we carried on our evening and went to bed at 10.30pm.

From what Meghan had said to me, I had a sneaky suspicion something was up, and managed to finish as much work as possible, make some frozen meals for when we are too tired, and even remembered to bring some speakers home that a lad at work had lent me so Meg could listen to some music during labour.

I was woken at 1am by Meghan fidgeting around in bed and offered to go and sleep n the couch. She then woke me at 3am to say I might want to start preparing myself to go to hospital later that day! At this stage we still weren't sure if Meg just had a sore tummy, or if it was the real deal.

I was woken again at 4am by Meghan in more pain than an hour earlier, so I got my stop watch out and timed the contractions. At this stage they were 5 minutes apart and lasting anywhere from 60-90 seconds. Meg had a couple of baths in the next three hours, while the pains continued to get stronger.

The midwife arrived at 7am at our place and said Meg was only 3cm dilated. She expected we had at least another 7 hours from here (equation = 1 cm per hour. The midwife said she would ring us back at 10am and we would take it from there.

Well....as soon as the midwife left, I thought I was living with a Norwegian shot putter with all the screaming and shouting that was going on! Meg had another bath, but the pain was getting REALLY intense so we took to rocking on her hands and knees with hot water bottles front and back.

At 9.30am I told Meghan to start getting ready to go to the hospital as I couldn't watch her in this much pain and phoned the midwife to tell her we were on our way. By this stage Meg had also thrown up from the pain.

We left the house at 9.50am and every traffic light we came to was red!!!! I gave a running commentary all the way to the hospital while Meg was on the back seat on her hands and knees screaming like a good-un, so I don't think she heard a word I said!

We arrived at the hospital at 10.05am and I bundled Meghan through the security doors, handing her over to the midwife while I tried to find a park....luckily I got one right outside the birthing units (on double yellow lines) and wrote a note to put on the windscreen explaining that a miracle was about to happen.

I got back into the hospital, and promptly bumped into antenatal friends of ours who'd been in labour for a few hours and had just checked in. For those of you who know Wellington hospital, there only have two birthing suites with spa baths. Well our midwife had hooked one up for us and when I got in the room Meg was already on all fours in the bath.

Meghan was now in serious pain and I wondered how on earth she was going to last another four hours. How wrong could I be?!

After about 6-7 huge contractions in the bath, her waters broke and the baby's head started to crown. From here on in, it seemed like only a matter of minutes and Meghan was sitting in the spa pool with Noah in her arms, and me an absolute mess in tears.

This has to be one of the most emotional things I have ever been through, as I just felt so helpless to help Meghan, but so proud. She endured labour completely naturally with out any drugs or even gas. For someone who I've always joked about being a drama queen even when she stubs her toe, as Harry Redknapp would say 'The girl had a blinder'.

Anyway, this was supposed to be short and sweet. Just to let you know, Mum and Bub's are doing great.

Take care

Mark, Meghan and Noah

**********

Lessons I learnt last year

It's not that I want to look back rather than forward. Far from it. But it wouldn't be fair to start the year without reflection on valuable lessons I learnt last year.

In April last year, I wrote about my decision to move on from my role at Learning Media. I look back on this post and think that there is a certain element of naivety in those words. That post was very upbeat and positive without a hint of any misgiving or second thoughts about making the move.

In all honesty, I was ready to leave Learning Media - the company was struggling financially, I had concerns about its long-term viability - and with good reason as later in the year the company had to be wound up and I felt fortunate that God had provided an alternative for me not to have to go through that situation. The opportunity to move on almost fell in my lap really, and at the time I felt I would be silly not to take it.

However....in all honesty after the first interview I didn't come away with a great vibe and my gut instinct told me not to go back for a second interview. It was only at my contact's (who works there) recommendation and encouragement that I reconsidered and eventually took the role.

I knew pretty early on that I'd potentially made a mistake when on day 2 I sat at my desk almost having a full on panic attack thinking 'what have I done?'.That and the fact that I found myself praying hard out for God to give me strength to get through each day on the daily drive out there.

I told myself it was just early jitters and to give it time - that once I had a few months under my belt I'd feel different. Only I didn't.

I tried to ward off potential feelings of inferiority in the new role by reminding myself that we are all just human beings and that a large paycheck is no guarantee that someone is any more switched on than the most junior person in the company.

But the unsettled feelings didn't go away. I questioned whether I even wanted to be an accountant any more. I researched changing careers, becoming a teacher, anything to get me out of the current situation I found myself in. I admitted that I was desperately seeking balance because things felt off-kilter.

And then there was the holiday. To be honest in those early months all I found myself focusing on was trying to hold out for the holiday - just a couple more months, then it was a couple more weeks, and then I'd made it there and we were off on our adventure.

I did a good job of switching off completely for the first three weeks of the holiday, but as our return drew nearer I found myself inadvertently thinking about what I was coming back to. The closer the day drew near, the bigger the dread grew. We arrived home on a Friday afternoon and by Sunday night, I had worked myself up into such a state that I had the biggest pit of dread imaginable in my stomach. This was not just post-holiday blues, it was much more more. I lay awake from 3am wishing the morning wouldn't arrive.

This was the tipping point that actually made me acknowledge what I'd been fighting all these months. That something had to change. I knew I couldn't go on. There were a lot of things not quite right about the role - some of that had to do with it not being right for me at the stage I'm at in my life wanting more family time, and the role had done nothing but reduce family time even further and increase stress - the opposite of what I wanted.

So here I find myself at the beginning of a new year, with a fresh start and a new opportunity beginning today. A role in a small IT company with less than 20 staff, a sole charge accountant role working 35 hours a week which means I will be able to spend every afternoon with the boys after school. This means the world to me, so much more than anything else could right now.

There were other very important lessons I learnt that I've had plenty of time to reflect on these past few months:

• More money does not mean more happiness - last year I was earning more money than I ever had before but had never been as miserable 
• Working for a "professional" company is no guarantee that those who come with a big title and paycheck will do their job properly - this took me somewhat by surprise and even more so that somehow I was meant to hold them to account despite the fact that their own more senior managers had no ability to hold them accountable for their actions and inaction
• I may never want to be a CFO (Chief Financial Officer) which seems to be the general expectation that all Accountants should want to aspire to - and you know what I'm OK with that. Many won't understand my position on this, but I don't plan to justify it - I'm OK with it, my family is OK with it and that's all that matters.
• Four more hours - four more hours that I get to be with my kids each week feels like an absolute luxury right now. Of course, I can't say I'll enjoy every minute because no doubt there will be moments (when I'm busy breaking up fights most likely) when I'll probably wish I was back at work instead
• I'll never wish I had spent more hours at work - but I know I'll wish I had spent more time with my boys, and I desperately wish to be at peace that the decisions I have made are for the good of our family. 

So now here I stand on the brink of another year. Feeling hopeful, and choosing to every day put my faith in the One who always has me in the palm of His hand and who has never failed me yet.

It's a good place to be. 

Letters to my teenage self {the finale}

Dear Meghan

It's not been an easy year so far, this being 21 business. Despite being an adult now making adult choices, sometimes you still feel like a scared little girl inside. Especially in those moments when it's just you and him and things get heated. He really scares you sometimes, even though you do your best not to let it show.

There are more fights and unhappy moments than happy ones, and you spend your days tiptoeing around his temper and trying to do anything you can to make him happy despite the fact he seems unable to find any happiness from within himself. His jealousy and inability to trust you in any social settings is a constant source of tension and uneasiness.

One night your work hosts a farewell for one of these young guys you work with and just happen to share a birthday with, as he is going back to the UK soon after completing his year of work experience here. A group of you head out to a famous Wellington landmark 'The Tugboat' together on this night. You enjoy the company of this young guy on this night out far more than you know you should. Far more than is appropriate in your situation. And over the course of the next few days, you admit to yourself you have feelings for this kind and wonderful young man. Strong feelings.

And so the sliding doors of your life open. You see a different future flash before you. You catch a glimpse into all the wonderful possibilities that this boy and all he stands for offers you. It's love like you've never known - deeper, stronger, purer. You see a life filled with incredible and glorious untapped potential. You see a chance to become yourself again. To no longer live in the shadows. To no longer live in fear but in faith. You can even see the possibility of returning to your faith that has been so long lying in tatters.

You can hear a voice in your heart saying "God saw you when you fell, so there's no reason to try and hide from Him. Like the shephered who went looking for his one lost sheep, God is looking for you today. Not to condemn you but to restore you. And no matter how how far you think you might have travelled away from him, it is just one step back into his arms.

And without even thinking about the chance of injury - before those sliding doors can fully slam shut, you thrust out your hand to prevent them closing. You forcibly prise them open and you jump on that train heading for a brand new destination. Your palms are sweaty, your throat is dry and you are breathing way too fast.

This might turn out to be the craziest-dumbest or cleverest-brilliantest thing you've ever done. And only time will tell.

If you are interested in hearing what happened next, the next part of the journey is re-told in the following posts:

The Original MNM's: Truly, Madly, Deeply
The Original MNM's: Long Distance Love
The Original MNM's: Making it Work
The Original MNM's: Surviving the Storm

Letters to my teenage self {Part 4}

The year is 1998 and you’re about to turn 21. You’ve just secured your first ‘real’ job working as a receptionist at the Museum Hotel. Ideally you’d be actually using your many years of studying Japanese and be working in the Japanese embassy or doing some translation work but this type of role is proving hard to come by so right now it’s about making ends meet.

You have made one close friend so far, from your short few weeks working at Burger King but you still feel the loneliness of living a 7 hour drive from your family and the daily ups and downs of this seesawing relationship of over three years. The bunch of people you work with at the hotel are an eclectic lot, but mostly young and friendly and the work shifts (either 7am-3pm or 3pm-10pm) pass quickly enough amongst the banter.

There’s still plenty of time for self-reflection though, mostly when you’re on your own in the flat during the days when you work a late shift. It’s times like these when you wonder how on earth you got from a respectable P.K. (pastors kid) to this. The days of attending church twice on a Sunday and going to youth group both mid week and socially on the weekend seem a very distant memory. Some days you convince yourself that you are glad to have experienced life and are grateful not to still be caught up in that insulated and inward world where so many of your old friends eventually end up marrying each other from within the group. Other days the regrets threaten to overwhelm you so you simply try to shut them out.

There are days when you find yourself angry. Mostly angry at God for making your family move to Morrinsville in the first place, it feels like nothing good came from it. Having come from a vibrant and thriving church in Papakura, the move to Morrinsville felt like you’d been posted to Timbuktu. Your dad had very little support within the tiny church, they were a needy and sometimes lazy bunch and it wasn’t uncommon for him to have to put out all the chairs before the service, lead the worship while you play the piano in support, take communion, give a sermon, and have to pack up everything up again afterwards. It’s not surprising that he eventually faced burn out from the struggle of making ends meet as a poorly paid pastor having to supplement the family income with a variety of jobs from selling insurance and real estate to relief teaching at the local high school. You wonder what in God’s name He (God that is) was thinking bringing you all to that place.

You want to make excuses for how these past few years have panned out, blaming the path you’ve taken on the lack of Christian friends and peers around you to support you instead of feeling completely adrift on the ocean, but deep down you know they are just that…..excuses. And always you come back to the fact that if you’d really been close to Jesus and had a strong faith in God to carry you through these times, it should have been enough….shouldn’t it? Guilt rears its head often.

At your 21st celebration back home in a local hall in Morrinsville, many of your old friends come to celebrate with you. It’s bittersweet and in part only serves to remind you of a life that was stolen from you or slipped through your fingers, you’re not sure which. You return to Wellington afterwards with a heavy heart feeling trapped in your current situation wondering if this life is actually all you will ever have and all you can expect to deserve having made these choices.

But there is a change coming, a Sliding Doors moment. You’re not even aware of it yourself yet but it is coming.

to be continued...

Letters to my teenage self {Part 3}

Dear Meghan

Last time we wrote you were in the thick of university study, doing your best to navigate a potentially destructive but compelling relationship.

During your second year of study the opportunity arises to go to Japan for the summer to work in the ski-fields - despite your many years studying the Japanese language this year brings your first real chance to immerse yourself in the language and culture for real, both with a month long stay at a university in Kyoto earlier in the year and now this opportunity.

This equals time apart - he will also be working in Japan but at the other end of the country and this gives you some breathing space from the intensity of the relationship - sure there's letters and phone calls but mostly you can just enjoy the experience of being immersed in all things Japanese and getting to know the 5 other Kiwis who are with you on the ski-field.

Towards the end of your stay, he decides that he will stay on for longer at the tulip nursery in southern Japan as the chance to earn good money is more appealing than a return to university and he tries to entice you to come and join him. You are on track to finish your university degree this year and don't really want to put off graduation, but reluctantly you agree to the idea, such is his hold on you. But it doesn't feel right, and despite not feeling that close to God at this time nor that you even have the right to ask for help, you pray that if this is not part of God's plan for you that he will find a way to shut this door.

A few days before you are due to leave the ski-field and travel to meet him, you get a call from a university friend of yours who is also working with him that he hasn't been entirely faithful to your relationship during this time apart and she warns you against coming to work there. It is the 'out clause' you have been desperately searching for, and so you take it. You refuse to take his calls and make plans to instead return home to NZ as your heart tells you is the right thing to do. You write him a letter telling him of your disappointment and your plans to return home but you decide not to speak to him in case he tries to talk you out of it.

You leave Japan, but unbeknownst to you he is on his way home to NZ now too, desperate to reconcile and to work through these issues. He meets you at the airport along with your parents and although you don't want to be walked all over, you decide you want the chance to sort things out.

In this last year at university you enjoy student life living in a flat with some other friends whilst he drops out of university and lives in Auckland pursuing full-time work. He convinces you to give the relationship another chance and so this year you make the trip from Hamilton to Auckland most weekends to see him. Distance makes the relationship less tempestuous but before long you are finished university and he gets an opportunity to work down in Wellington, basically demanding that you join him there or the relationship is over. You are at a loss and needing to find a job now that you have graduated so Wellington sounds as good a place as any to go to.

It's lonely down here though, you have no friends bar him, and living with him isn't easy. You also have to make it on your own finding work. The part-time job you held at Burger King while studying holds in you in good stead to get a job at the newly opened Burger King on Lambton Quay but this only lasts a few weeks before you move on to a breakfast waitressing job at the Novotel on the Terrace and then in another few weeks you manage to secure what feels like a 'real job' as a receptionist at the Museum Hotel.

The year is 1998...it's February and Te Papa has just had its grand opening the week you start work across the road at the hotel. Little do you know but it's going to be a very eventful year....

to be continued....

Letters to my teenage self {Part 2}

Dear Meghan

Last time I wrote, you were just finishing school and university beckoned.

Without a totally defined sense of direction, you decide that becoming a Japanese teacher sounds like as good a career as any, but this will change though before you even make it to your second year. University brings with it more freedom and with so many of your school friends choosing to live in the hostels on campus, you begin to resent the daily half hour drive to and from campus and decide you need to experience more of student life. Again, it’s not a wise choice with hindsight but you’re still young and immature enough to just want to fit in with those around you and so this is inevitably the path you choose. 

You embark on a relationship early in your first year of university which becomes a defining moment in your life. Rightly or wrongly, it shapes many of the decisions you will make over the next four years. Before the year is out, the lack of curriculum choices make you turn from your original decision to be a teacher and pursue Japanese and Mandarin Chinese solely as your degree majors in a Bachelor of Arts degree.

This relationship you are in is tempestuous at the best of times, and many of the friends you have made earlier in the year try to make you see sense, telling you that he is not good for you and that he has many of his own deep-seated issues that come flying to the fore the moment a fight starts. But love is blind and you choose not to see it, choosing instead to value this relationship more highly than those of these other girls. And so you turn your back on many of them, almost forced into it by his power over you and his ability to twist the arguments they have against them until you cannot see sense.

On many a night after some stupid fight you will find yourself crying in your dorm room, finding yourself willing to stretch to crazy lengths to get his attention, or to prove his insane jealousy wrong. You'll even think that maybe drinking half a bottle of gin on your own on a Sunday night might do it. Or that putting a cigarette lighter to your wrist to feel some pain instead of the numbness and sadness at yet another blazing row might do it. One night you'll even go wandering off campus and roaming the streets in the dark, barefoot and dressed in nothing but summer PJ's in the hope that you might prove a point by storming out into the night. You'll feel incredibly foolish and childish when a police patrol car then picks you up and takes you to the central police station until they can figure out what's going on, dropping you back to the hostel in the small hours of the morning. 

This is a dark and hidden side of your life. Not many people will ever know this side of you and the desperation you feel in these times. They may only see you getting fantastic marks on all your university papers, A's and A+'s and you actively engaging in student life as President of the hostel in your second year living there. With a new group of students having come on campus, there are some new and more grounded friendships in your second year that balance out the craziness of this ongoing relationship. You hold onto these tightly to keep you afloat in the worst of times.

to be continued.....

Letters to my teenage self {Part 1}

This is a new series exploring some of my experiences as a teenager moving away from the only life I'd known and having to suddenly grow up...

Meghan.....

I know you think that your life is over right now. That after ten years living in Papakura, having to leave because your father’s pastors job demands it is quite possibly the worst thing that can ever happen to you. You have made a life for yourself here, with lifelong friendships at school and church that you absolutely can’t bear to leave behind.

It's not that far as the crow flies, you’re only moving to Morrinsville, a tin-pot country backwater town an hour and a half away from Auckland by car, but to you it might as well be the end of the earth. You’ll end up going to Hillcrest High in Hamilton that first year so you can continue your Japanese studies which is what you’re most motivated by right now, but the school itself which promises so much will be wildly disappointing. Starting a new school in sixth form wouldn’t be easy for anyone, but the cliques that have formed by now with so many well-heeled children at this school wearing designer mufti clothes which you can’t afford make it nearly impossible to make new friends with everyone looking down their noses at you the whole time. The fact that you are still too young to get your driving licence and have to travel half an hour by bus every day is a further limitation on making friends and spending time with them outside of school hours. These things combined make you plead with your parents to allow you to continue your Japanese studies by correspondence so you can at least attend the local college in your final year of school. This turns out to be a good decision. The one good thing you do take away from this disaster of a 6th form year is the decision to start studying Accounting which although not very meaningful now will become so later in your life. Hold onto this thought.

You make good your promise to your parents that your grades won’t suffer by changing schools and study hard all year gaining an A Bursary with scholarship marks in English and high marks in Japanese and Accounting too, which is enough to be awarded the title of Proxime Accessit (2^nd student in the school). But.....this last year at school comes at a cost, as the sheltered life you’ve led so far, insulated up until now by mostly socialising with other church youth is about to change. There is a complete lack of other people your age in the small church your father is leading. This means the only option you have is to socialise with school friends which brings with it many new experiences - drinking, parties, and boys who don’t hold the same beliefs as you. It’s not ideal but you want to fit in and make friends, and so you wonder f it’s the price you have to pay. It’s a million miles from the life you were living just two short years ago, but it’s the world where you now find yourself and you feel as if some of these things might actually be required to survive. You still keep in touch with some your friends from that other world, but many just fade away with the natural passage of distance and time and you’re saddened that this chapter in your life is no more, and wonder how His glorious plan for you could possibly be reconciled with where you find yourself now, without the closeness of friends who value what you have always valued.

To be continued……

Things I'm Loving :Those Quirky Brits {the weird and wonderful}

I wholeheartedly believe that no matter what is happening in your life, there is always something you can be thankful for..no matter how simple it is.

This week I wanted to indulge in a little bit of reminiscing. It's funny how you can go to a place halfway round the world that feels like home, but still find some things so totally alien to you. I never HAVE understood some of the quirky things that the Brits do but I thought it would be fun to share some of the weird and wonderful things that I noticed while we were away.

Hardcore hand-dryers

Times sure have changed since the last time we were in the UK. These days a journey to the bathroom means you will probably nearly lose the skin off your hand.

Put your hand under one of these babies and you can actually see the air blow the skin sideways - Xlerator is definitely an apt name for them and there's no excuse for walking out of the bathroom with wet hands that's for sure!

Paint the town black

Everywhere we went around London there was black. Black lamp-posts, black bollards and black rubbish bins. Despite living there for 3 years I don't think I had ever really paid any attention to this phenomena.

So it was news to me when I found out on the bus tour that apparently all railings and lamp-posts have been painted black in London since Queen Victoria went into mourning over the death of her beloved Prince Albert in the 1860's. It is certainly a way to ensure the city looks very smart at all times, and there's never any fighting over what colour to paint things!

Washing up bowls

In England it is still customary to use a plastic washing up bowl inside the sink to wash up dishes. It's a tradition that has lasted for quite some time and it makes sense back in the day when you only had a single sink as it allowed you to pour away any yucky stuff down the sink whilst not getting the dishes all dirty.

 

However in this day and age, there aren't that many houses around now that don't have at least another half-sink for disposing of food waste etc so why does the tradition remain I wonder? I guess old habits die hard - though I think I'd find it frustrating washing up in such a small bowl all the time when you definitely can't fit as much in there!

Bathroom light pull-cords

This one always got me. Why on earth is it necessary to have a pull-cord for the light switch in pretty much every single toilet or bathroom? I asked my sister-in-law, and asked good old Google and it turns out that there is some method in the madness.

Apparently it is to reduce the risk of electrocution from someone with wet hands or wet feet touching the light switch and getting zapped, and reduces the possibility of condensation getting into the light switch. Apparently it was even the law until 2001 to have a pull-cord in the bathroom. I find this whole subject fairly fascinating because we don't seem to have any such concerns with electrocution here - perhaps we aren't as potentially able to conduct electricity over here in NZ?!

And then there's....

Crisps vs chips

Sweets vs lollies

Cling film vs glad-wrap

Tippex vs Twink

Iced lolly vs iceblock

Trousers vs pants

Pants vs undies

Tops vs jerseys

Corner shop vs dairy

And the list goes on....

Have you ever been to another country where the traditions there baffled and amused you? Or am I just easily entertained?!

Here's how you can join in this week:

Link up below with your blog post telling us what you're loving, and grab the Things I'm Loving button below for your post too. Don't forget to share the love by visiting all the other lovelies who have joined in - the linky is open till same time next week!

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Desperately seeking balance....

I was so encouraged by the number of people who engaged with me after last week's post When Dreams and Reality Collide.

Hearing how some of you have indeed made a conscious decision to choose to live out your dreams was really inspiring. I was particularly touched by Cat sharing more of her story with me, and also an email I received from Julie sharing the wonderful work and story of Carla Coulson whose blog  I hadn't yet been introduced to. I spent a good part of Monday night enveloped in the beautiful world that Carla creates in her photography and came away so full of hope. 

It has given me much to think about this past week.

One thing for sure is that the current work-to-life balance is not quite right.

Two years ago when Noah began school I made a conscious decision to cut back my hours from 40 to 35 hours a week. That lasted about 6 months and then they crept back to 37 with busyness at work and Noah went to after-school care one day a week. In the remaining four days I still managed to pack in my work hours between 7.30am - 2.30pm so I could spend my afternoons with the boys.

I look back on posts from that time and it feels like I had so much time to be creative in the moment. Time to intentionally craft with the boys in the afternoons, time to go out and about in Wellington enjoying the best our city has to offer. And always with camera in hand catching magical moments and memories that I shared right here.

Now I find myself working 37.5 hours at work plus whatever hours outside of that are required to meet the demands of the job as well as a longer commute. And the days tick by. And my children keep growing.

And I have an overwhelming sense that life's balance just slipped further from my grasp.

And so I find myself searching desperately for ways to address this. 

Of course there are options. Work less hours, or if that's not an option, find a less demanding job. Sounds easy in principle doesn't it. 

Or I could challenge myself to set aside dedicated time during the week to cultivate my photography skills and develop my writing and blog.

However, I'm not sure that any of this can be solved today, tomorrow or even next week.

For now there's the thought of a soon-to-arrive holiday in less than five weeks. A time when, away from the routines and busyness of this current season, I'm committed to deeper reflection, soul searching and prayer for answers.

And in the meantime holding steadfast to this truth - thank you Miriam for reminding me:  'Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need'