Desperately seeking Neri.
It has definitely been a while since I last posted something here. Life has been different these last few years from what it was when I started this website, when I started writing and trying to be intentional about that.
There have been some real highlights along the way (hello, I got married!) and there have been some plot twists I hadn’t anticipated.
I’m currently sitting in my backyard in Budgewoi, soaking up the momentary speckles of sunlight that break free from the blanket of clouds that scream of imminent rain, desperately seeking Neri.
Desire, Destination and a Next Step (part one)
I feel itchy.
Not the kind of itch that sits on your skin, annoyingly begging to be scratched. It’s the kind of itch that is present just enough to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s invisible, so scratching it is almost impossible. It’s uncomfortable enough to keep my attention, to keep me feeling discontent enough to not forget the itch. I long for it to be gone. To soothe the discontent. I just can’t seem to find the right salve. But I know the discontent is a symptom of the deeper dis-ease of desire. My soul is hungry for change. I just don’t know what change that is….
The Language of Lament - Part One.
Last night, the news headlines were all about the riots in Minnesota, the pain of the African American people, and the death of George Floyd. A google search this morning of “National Reconciliation Week” on the first few pages returns no results from any major News outlets here in Australia.
Instead, their websites are filled with news from America and I’m left wondering…
Why are the cries of America louder than the original custodians of the land we now call Australia?
I Went Grocery Shopping Today...
The most surprising thing I bought was a jar of peanut butter and a jar of honey because I thought I could have peanut butter and honey sandwiches. I haven’t eaten one of those since I was a kid but with all the chaos swirling around me, I found myself seeking out and reaching for anything that felt familiar. That felt safe. To that felt normal.
I Tried To Give A Homeless Man A Sandwich
If I had stopped to ask the people who know him better than I do, would I have avoided potentially making Graeme feel awkward?
Lots of “what if’s”.
And whilst those questions are good, I’ll never know the answer to them, I can’t go back in time and change my decisions.
But I can’t help shake this feeling that God orchestrated this whole thing not for Graeme’s benefit, but for mine.
Could You Leave Me With A Scar?
So when I look at this scar and I see beauty and ugliness. I see love and pain all in one image. The pain of scars serves as a reminder, but we get to choose what it reminds us of…