"The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn't work, don't buy it."

I have an inexorable passion for God, young people, coffee, writing, Photoshop, good books, precise grammar, beautiful words that I will never use in my day-to-day conversations, avocadoes, purple, pretty stationery, random trivia that is of absolutely no use to me, Post-its, bubble wrap, facial hair and origami.

Gratefulness day five.

I serve a God of increase. I love that when circumstances seem to have a hold on your finances and inner peace, He smashes through the heat of apparent impossibility and uncertainty to bring showers of blessings through at the right time. 

2 Tim 1:12
“Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.”

Gratefulness day four.

(It’s been awhile haha, there are simply too many things in life to be grateful for so I write about the highlights)

I caught up with my youth pastor today and I felt this sense of relief weave its way into my chest; simply being around your leader and taking a bit of time out of your crazy life to learn from them is nourishing to your soul. Great mentors are few and far apart; I don’t think I’ve had more than a few consistent ones apart from my parents. There aren’t enough words in the dictionary to accurately express the depth of my appreciation towards the people who have willingly taken me under their wing, drop a little wisdom into my heart every chance they get and challenge me to broaden my field of vision. I love that God has a way of bringing the right people into your life in even the loneliest, driest seasons.

Someone, please teach me how to braid my hair like this. I will wear a long skirt and do a Julia Stone dance for you. Gratefulness day 3. Passion. I live a non-stop life and when I’m not busy with uni work, I’m at work or at church or at uni or with friends or catching up with someone or hanging out with my youth girls or being a goober with my family. But I am inexorably and utterly passionate about the responsibilities I’ve committed myself to and the people in my life. To me, passion doesn’t eradicate or override fatigue, frustration or stress, it doesn’t instantaneously demolish brick walls that you seem to keep running into time and time again and it certainly doesn’t exonerate you from bad habits or personal flaws that bite you in the butt incessantly. It gives you reason to fight. It is fire; it consumes you whole and calls you to action. It makes you think about why you do things. It pulls you back and forces you to have a long, searching look at yourself and as heat does to chicken broth, it forces grime and impurities to the surface. It keeps your heart soft and open to correction, it empowers you to clear out some baggage you keep in your life to make space for better things and it stretches your capacity, further and further as long as you keep feeding it. Passion is rebellious, not against authority and reasonable boundaries but against skepticism, against narrow-mindedness, against status quo, against the herd mentality and against mediocrity. To be passionate about something is a huge privilege.

Someone, please teach me how to braid my hair like this. I will wear a long skirt and do a Julia Stone dance for you.

Gratefulness day 3.

Passion. I live a non-stop life and when I’m not busy with uni work, I’m at work or at church or at uni or with friends or catching up with someone or hanging out with my youth girls or being a goober with my family. But I am inexorably and utterly passionate about the responsibilities I’ve committed myself to and the people in my life. To me, passion doesn’t eradicate or override fatigue, frustration or stress, it doesn’t instantaneously demolish brick walls that you seem to keep running into time and time again and it certainly doesn’t exonerate you from bad habits or personal flaws that bite you in the butt incessantly. It gives you reason to fight. It is fire; it consumes you whole and calls you to action. It makes you think about why you do things. It pulls you back and forces you to have a long, searching look at yourself and as heat does to chicken broth, it forces grime and impurities to the surface. It keeps your heart soft and open to correction, it empowers you to clear out some baggage you keep in your life to make space for better things and it stretches your capacity, further and further as long as you keep feeding it. Passion is rebellious, not against authority and reasonable boundaries but against skepticism, against narrow-mindedness, against status quo, against the herd mentality and against mediocrity. To be passionate about something is a huge privilege.

Gratefulness day two.

Waking up without a headache after a surprisingly wonderful sleep on the futon couch, Star Wars theme on the classical station while I was having a crumpet for breakfast, then lunch to the sounds of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald on the jazz station. 

Gratefulness day one The lush, picturesque landscape that is the Adelaide Hills is practically my backyard. A mere 15-minute drive up the road is a step into a magical wardrobe; you find yourself in a world so detached from the familiar cluster of suburban houses and metropolitan lifestyle. The seemingly infinite expanse of greenery (do they call it yellowery in autumn, then?) dotted with cows and horses and sheeps, orderly rows of grapevines and pine trees, weathered signboards in quaint little towns and friendly townspeople invoked squeals of curious wonder, interspersed with appreciative, awestruck silence as Brenda and I sat in the car, devouring the sights like a handful of fresh figs. I didn’t think much of Adelaide when we first got here and I still whinge about the early closing times and general absence of activity during the year. And I still don’t see myself living here for the rest of my life, but it’s become my little old beloved Adelaide, with its hidden pockets of surprising goodness. There’s a peace and a mind-expanding quality about learning to find joy in the things you were once uncomfortable with or didn’t care much for. For that, I am truly grateful.  I’m also honoured to be able to celebrate a dear, dear friend’s 20th birthday in an enchanting Twilight-esque setting, among tall, majestic pine trees and potentially magical mushrooms. Happy birthday Chanelle, I value your friendship, wise and thoughtful insight, admirable heart and occasionally inappropriate comments. (I didn’t take that photo, btw. I do have a Polaroid that captures the brilliance of the Hills but you’ll just have to deal with my laziness.)

Gratefulness day one

The lush, picturesque landscape that is the Adelaide Hills is practically my backyard. A mere 15-minute drive up the road is a step into a magical wardrobe; you find yourself in a world so detached from the familiar cluster of suburban houses and metropolitan lifestyle. The seemingly infinite expanse of greenery (do they call it yellowery in autumn, then?) dotted with cows and horses and sheeps, orderly rows of grapevines and pine trees, weathered signboards in quaint little towns and friendly townspeople invoked squeals of curious wonder, interspersed with appreciative, awestruck silence as Brenda and I sat in the car, devouring the sights like a handful of fresh figs.

I didn’t think much of Adelaide when we first got here and I still whinge about the early closing times and general absence of activity during the year. And I still don’t see myself living here for the rest of my life, but it’s become my little old beloved Adelaide, with its hidden pockets of surprising goodness. There’s a peace and a mind-expanding quality about learning to find joy in the things you were once uncomfortable with or didn’t care much for. For that, I am truly grateful. 

I’m also honoured to be able to celebrate a dear, dear friend’s 20th birthday in an enchanting Twilight-esque setting, among tall, majestic pine trees and potentially magical mushrooms. Happy birthday Chanelle, I value your friendship, wise and thoughtful insight, admirable heart and occasionally inappropriate comments.

(I didn’t take that photo, btw. I do have a Polaroid that captures the brilliance of the Hills but you’ll just have to deal with my laziness.)

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