T.becks

Australian lady. Child of God. Midwife. Wanderer. 

[forhisglry]

My positive birth story

I write my own birth story on International Day of the Midwife, to highlight the incredible value of good midwifery support and continuity of care and how the environment that we birth in has a huge impact on our birth experience. And to reaffirm what all the research says, that birthing at home with midwifery care is safe and empowering and should be available as an option for more women. As a disclaimer, I know that birthing at home is not what all women want and may not be right for some women. I also know that many women come out of their birthing experience traumatised rather than empowered. My hope for the future of midwifery and birth is that every woman would have access to supportive woman-centred midwifery care to birth in an empowering way that is right for them in the space that is right for them- whether that is at home, in a birth centre or at the hospital. Own your birth, your body is powerful and so capable. It was created to do this.

For me, choosing a homebirth was essential. As a midwife, I know the benefits of uninterrupted labour, and wanted to be in a space where this was honoured and I could birth on my terms. I also knew the challenge I would have with switching my midwife brain off in labour and stepping into the primal brain required to labour well. Being at home meant I was away from my workplace and other people’s birth stories, and was safely in my own space to write my own story. Thankfully, Darwin has a publicly funded homebirth program that I fit the low-risk criteria for, so I was quick to book into this early in my pregnancy.

Choosing a homebirth was also a step of faith for me. For a long time, I’ve had a fear that I’d never be able to birth my babies vaginally. A midwife once said to me when I was 19 that my ‘pelvis was too small to birth’, and it’s haunted me ever since. (A reminder that the words you speak over people, even off-hand comments, have power). Birthing Reuben at home, all 4230 grams of him, was a real step of faith in trusting God over my fears. And in that, He reminded me in a very real way that through him all things are possible, and that not only can I birth my babies, I can birth chunky big ones. It broke my fears of untruths spoken to me long ago. I write this birth story to give God the glory.

During my pregnancy, my husband Jonno and I spent 3 months on the road travelling. It was an amazing bonding time together and we grew a lot in our relationship. While on the road, I saw a midwife in Yackandandah, Victoria, several times over the course of our travels. In our short time together, her midwifery approach and philosophy resonated deeply with me, and I felt valued and listened to. I loved getting some continuity of care even as we travelled.

We arrived back in Darwin at 35 weeks pregnant. In the weeks leading up to birth, Jonno and I did a hypnobirthing course and I read through Rhea Dempsey’s books ‘Birth with confidence’ and ‘Beyond the birth plan.’ These both really helped in my mental and emotional preparation for birth. I spent time every day working through thoughts and fears of birth, and taking my birth to God in prayer and letting go of control. The wait is hard and takes a surrendering of your own will. It’s a strange time of anticipation and stillness. I loved and hated it. I desperately wanted my baby to come, but valued those precious moments with just me and Jonno. Five days after my due date, I started to have some mild crampy niggles but nothing particularly painful or regular at all. It was a Sunday, and Jonno and I spent the day together pottering around and went for a long beach walk in the evening, watching a beautiful sunset. That night I woke up at 4am with surges coming every 10 minutes, not too painful but enough to stop me from sleep. I got up so I didn’t wake up Jonno with my tossing and turning and sat on my exercise ball in the living room with a heat pack on my tummy.

He woke up to get ready for work a couple of hours later. With irregular contractions only once every 10 minutes, I told him to still go to work, thinking it might carry on like this for some time, and wanted to maximise the time that he’d have off work after the baby arrived. Before he left for work I got him to put the TENS machine on my back. It was absolute magic. I kept it on all day.

As the morning progressed, the surges began to get a little closer together but were still irregular and I was coping fine. I spent the day trying to distract myself. I played some cards, danced around the living room, rested a little and practiced some good positioning.

By 3 in the afternoon I was struggling to motivate myself and stay distracted. Jonno had been calling me up every couple of hours from work to check on me, but my surges were still only every 5 minutes or so and pretty manageable so I didn’t think he needed to come home early, but I was keen on some company and motivation. At this point I called Jenelle, an amazing midwife and friend who has previously been a part of the homebirth team, and had agreed to be a part of my birth support team. She was just what I needed in that moment. She entered my birth space and helped me to draw in my focus, where I was having a ‘crisis of confidence’ moment. I broke out in tears when she got there, and told her I didn’t think I could do it. She looked me straight in the eye and said ‘well, you don’t like the alternative do you!’, which really helped to kick my head into gear.

Up until this point I had been experiencing all of my surge pain in my pubic bone, so Jenelle felt my baby’s position and we realised he was posterior with a deflexed head. We got hard to work right away with various positions and massage to try and realign bub and release tension from my pelvis. As we moved around, we chatted about all things from magic mushrooms and the golden valley tree park in Balingup, to candles, to my mum and my relationship with Jonno. It was excellent distraction and really helped me to relax. At one point I felt an unusual popping sensation, like my baby just swung into place, and then things were on pretty big from there. This happened right before jonno got home at 5.30pm, and then it was suddenly all systems go.

My lovely housemates set up my birthing space with the birth pool in the living room, while Jonno supported me for a while in the shower, and at some point my support team called my homebirth midwife to attend. The intensity of labour ramped up and there were so many moments where it felt unbearable. Labour truly does take you to the end of yourself, and it was my incredible support circle that really kept me grounded throughout the whole journey. I never once felt like they didn’t think I could do it and never once felt afraid. When I looked around the room I felt believed in and surrounded by love. One of the affirmations I had written on the wall was the Bible verse ‘There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear’, and it was so true in that space. I really felt carried by God throughout the whole journey. What surprised me was how much I needed interaction in labour. In most situations in life when I’m struggling, I tend to internalise and go quiet, but I found that in labour, talking to my team and giving myself little pep talks really helped me to keep going. It never felt like there were surplus people in the room, every person in my circle had an important role. Poor Jonno was well outnumbered by midwives! Besides Jenelle, my housemate Jos was there as another support person, and I had the 2 wonderful homebirth midwives.

Some time after 8pm, I felt like I had exhausted all other coping options, and that I wouldn’t be able to do this much longer. I got into the birth pool and it felt like the most blissful thing in the world. I floated around the water like a mermaid, my body giving me some much needed longer breaks between surges and I rode the endorphins through each rest. As the surges continued, I instinctively moved my body around the pool to make space for my baby. It felt so good to move in a weightless and unrestricted way.

Some time after 9 o’clock, I started feeling that involuntary urge to push and after fighting it for a while, Jenelle reminded me to go into it, not to resist it. So I went with the feeling and it felt good to do something, but I didn’t feel like I was really getting anywhere fast. My midwife suggested that I spend some time sitting on the toilet- aka dilation station. I did this and really felt his head move lower. I got back in the water around 11pm and jonno got in the water behind me, which really grounded me as I continued to push. My support team held up a mirror through my surges, and seeing his head slowly emerge really spurred me on to keep going. His head birthed slowly and smoothly, giving my body a chance to stretch and move as it needed to. He was calm the whole way through and his heart rate was steady. I birthed my baby in the water at 3 past midnight to the sweet joyful sounds of Celtic music (that we had playing in the background throughout labour). His head was born on the 17th and his body on the 18th! It was the most surreal moment. My boy was quiet and calm and he stared at me and Jonno as we sat in the pool. After birth we got out of the pool and waited for the placenta to come naturally, leaving my boy attached to his umbilical cord until well after the placenta had birthed. We had a few hours together at home, breastfed and introduced our dog Tobin to his baby brother, then I had to get transferred to hospital for repair of a tear from birth. We weren’t in hospital long, and came back home and settled in later that morning, riding high on the blissful oxytocin. What a wild and beautiful ride.

Birth looks different for everyone. And what is right for me is not necessarily right for other women. We can’t control a lot of the circumstances we get dealt around our birth. But there are ways we can be empowered and set ourselves up for success no matter what kind of birth we have. My birth of Reuben wasn’t textbook. But what an incredibly empowering and exhilarating experience and witness to God who makes all things possible. I wouldn’t change a thing.

As with most labours, it was intense and filled with moments where I lost confidence or couldn’t bear it any longer, but I was surrounded by 4 incredible midwives and my husband who had complete confidence in me and the capacity of my body to birth this baby. And that helped me carry on. They gave me space and time for my body to move and open in the way it needed to to let my baby through and they trusted that process, not trying to control it. I was at home, where I was safe, where I did not feel observed or put on a time-line or made to conform with the way we’re taught labour is meant to go. My contractions were not a regular pattern- they blended from long to short and spaced out to allow my son to move the way he needed to move. I was not ‘assessed’ on progress, and slowly pushed his whopper head and body out gently and slowly in the way it needed to be; I was not rushed. There were minutes between his head and body, but he was calm and his heartbeat was normal, because the process was undisturbed. He needed time for his big body to navigate through. I was listened to and felt safe to speak out my fears of birth, knowing that my support circle had my back to speak truth and courage and power back over me again. It wasn’t perfect, I felt my tailbone pop during labour, which is still giving me some grief when I sit, and I had a decent tear, but it was my body powerfully shifting and making space in the way it needed to for my baby to be born. It wasn’t perfect, but I loved it. And I would do it again in a heartbeat. What I am so thankful for, is that knowing what I know as a midwife, my labour and birth in another setting could have had a very different outcome. If I had been assessed on progress and been monitored as to the expected pathway of labour, I would have likely ended up with an oxytocin infusion, probably a forceps delivery with a shoulder dystocia and an episiotomy, all of which would have been deemed necessary, but weren’t really. But instead, I was privileged to be in a space where I was trusted and supported, where I could move how I needed to move, where my body was afforded the opportunity to birth in its own way: a privilege I wish more women had. It’s not to say that those interventions aren’t necessary in some cases, but how many more women would birth their babies without them if we watched and waited more and held space for women.

I’ve been a midwife for years but experiencing birth for myself has given me a whole new appreciation for the incredible role, support and wisdom of midwifery care and gently and confidently holding the space for birth.

I’m so grateful for Gods hand in my birth. I’ve learnt more of what it is to trust his perfect design and wait patiently on him. He is good.

[forhisglry]

Come thou long-expected Jesus. My husband often says that expectations can be your cruelest master or your kindest friend. Today I’ve been pondering the expectation that surrounded the birth of Jesus and the coming of the Messiah- the One who was to come and set all things right. Often the expectations we have before an event can set us up for failure or disappointment and can make us miss the depth and the true understanding of the things we experience. The coming of the Messiah was an event awaited with great anticipation by the Jewish people for many many generations, and they built expectations about what it would look like when he came to build his Kingdom and set things right. To the point that when Jesus came: lowly, humble as a babe, a King ready to serve- many failed to see who he was and missed the greatest gift of all. We can do that too. We can sometimes think that God works in a certain way, only uses certain people or that our lives will follow a certain path, that we don’t always see him right in front of us. This Christmas, may you lay aside your expectations and perceptions of the ways you think God is or should be working in this world, and allow Him to open your eyes to see the wonder of his upside-down Kingdom and the unexpected ways he is at work in your life, even if it doesn’t look the way you think it should. May we see and worship Jesus, the servant-King: the one who came and gave it all, that we would know him ❤️ https://www.instagram.com/p/CmiWNuePotUwzLdVa6kCPaTDKrQpHR8RpflTiA0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[forhisglry]

Sorrow and joy

Life is a messy mixture of beauty and pain, and I know it’s not unique to my circumstances. We all will experience times of grief through different seasons and in different ways. Here’s a bit of what’s gone on in my own head as I have grieved my mum.

A few weeks ago marked 6 months since Jesus took mumma home to be with him. And today, the 14th of December, is her birthday. I still miss her so deeply, and I guess the ache will be there for a long time to come. She was an incredible woman, full of dignity, strength, gentleness and grace while also being pretty matter of fact and down to earth. Not perfect by any means, but a pretty darn fantastic lady. When I think of her, I see her dancing in the wind, her wild hair free, barefoot and laughing lightly, or poking out her tongue. I learnt so much from her and feel like I can keep learning much more. 

Grief. It’s a bizarre process to watch happen within yourself. In some ways, it’s exactly like those grief cycles you learn about, but mostly it’s nothing like it, being a great deal more messy, and a very personal and unique experience. I look at my family, and each of us process it so differently. Some people need space, some need to talk it through, some need people around them.

I’ve learnt that grief is not something that western culture typically does very well. We feel awkward with it, and often try and ignore, brush it away or move on from it quickly. But I’ve learnt that’s it’s a vital experience to actively journey and allow yourself to sit with, whatever that looks like for you. It helps you to develop good emotional healthy habits by recognising how you feel in a moment, stopping and giving yourself time to process it. It enables you to move forward and not bottle it up. Grief is teaching me to not be defined by my feelings, but to see them, allow them, process them and let them go. Writing is my outlet, so I began writing letters to mum (thanks to the idea of a friend) every time I want to talk to her, and it has certainly helped my to process what I’m feeling. I love learning some of the ways varied cultures experience grief so differently. It’s quite a humbling experience to watch a Yolngu funeral out here in Arnhemland. The ceremony, song, dance. Listening to the women wailing gives me chills, the way their grief is expressed so tangibly; the way everyone knows their place, the outward expression of sorrow, the way the young ones learn from the elders. 

Grief. It’s ugly and messy. It’s beautiful. The anger, the pain, sorrow, guilt, the sobbing, the memories, the laughter, the hope. I’ve tried to be intentionally conscious of actively walking through the process of grief, and to give myself the space to embrace all of it, rather than pushing it down. Some days it can be crippling and leave you with an aching sadness. Sometimes it hits you unexpectedly like a wave of sorrow. And then some days are easier and you can pick yourself up and cope and find joy, and live your normal day to day life, and get out and enjoy beautiful things and be light and happy. Firsts are hard- first holiday, first birthday since she’s gone. I fully know that some days you don’t want to feel the pain anymore. But there are also days you don’t ever want to lose that feeling because somehow it makes mum feel close again. Sometimes I feel like I’m going well, but not every day. And that’s ok. I’m learning to be gracious with myself when I need to and give myself permission to grieve, but also permission to laugh. It’s a season, and a normal life process. I don’t think you ever really stop missing them, but you learn how to live with it.

I’ve learnt that in a culture that feels awkward with grief, I actually love it when people bring it up and ask about it. I love getting to talk about my mum. She was an amazing woman. I love it when people tell a story of something daggy mum did years before. It can be painful, but I love remembering. Grief can feel isolating, but it can also bring connection. I’ve come to realise, even more, how incredible my blanket of support is around me, and how necessary they are: family and friends (surrogate family), like a shield of love when I need it. Ready to make me food, cry and pray with me or make me laugh at the drop of a hat. I know many people don’t have that, and I’m beyond grateful for my tribe wherever I may be. 

And I’m learning a lot about God too.

If there’s one thing I can attest to in this hard season, it’s the unchanging nature of God, his promise to always be with us, his kindness and compassion and care. I’ve seen that in the details amidst the sorrow, in the hands of his people. Little details that came into place that none of us had particular control over at the time, but reminded me that God is deeply involved. I’ve learnt anew that he is a kind God. 

I know all too well how hard it can be sometimes to reconcile the grief and pain we experience with the goodness of God. I know that sometimes all you want to do is be angry at God and tell him it’s not fair. But even through my lack of understanding, all I can see is his love and compassion. I can see a God who knew deep sorrow, pain and separation, and chose that for the sake of love. I see a God who’s plan of love stems far beyond my short life and beyond my human understanding. 

I’ve been reflecting on the name of God. Yahweh. He is who he is/ He will be who he will be. Who he has always been, is who he will always be. He does not change his nature. He IS always loving, always just, always gracious. In the same passage that Yahweh tells Moses his name, he also says ‘I will be with you.’ He will always be with us. And I know that his presence is always with me.

That Yahweh is great, I haven’t a doubt. But that he is also deeply personal, I know within my being. 

Maybe I’ll never know why it was that God called mum home when he did. But I know that he knows the reality of human pain and loss and grieves alongside us in our pain. He deeply cares about us. 

I’m so thankful for the HOPE I have in my God, Yahweh. It certainly has been grounding, and enables me to have peace and joy despite my circumstances. Not that I always feel like that, but there is this underlying sense that there is a future and a hope beyond this life, enabling a deep joy to pervade my sorrow, when I allow myself to take hold of it. As Paul said in 2 Corinthians (6:10) ‘Being full of sorrow and yet rejoicing.’

It’s been an interesting experience to say the least, and I know the journey will continue. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my amazing mum. 

I hope that I can become more understanding, kind, gentle and patient for it and dance wildly more often with my arms and hair free as my mumma would.

[forhisglry]

Something about stillness, reframing our minds, and seeking truth.

Here I sit, 4 days into my government-enforced-quarantine-hotel-prison, where I will be for another 10 days. It’s Palm Sunday today, which means I will be here over Easter.

I’ve never spent Easter alone before. It feels bizarre. In fact, I’ve gotta admit that I didn’t initially relish the idea of 2 weeks alone locked in a room. However, it presents me with an opportunity I’ve never had, and I doubt I will have quite like this again, to truly stop and just be with Jesus for a little while, and reframe my thinking a bit.

I sat in my hotel room this morning and ‘went to Church’. Churches all around the world, have recently been meeting online for ‘virtual’ gatherings. It takes a bit to get used to. But I hope that it becomes a time where we really realign our understanding of what it means to be the church as the body of christ, rather than simply attending it. You may have seen some of those posts floating around facebook with that same thought, and it’s a good reminder. 

There’s something beautiful about the stripping back of all the illusions in our lives, the façade that we’re in control, that we’ve got it all together and the busyness that fills our waking moments. It brings us into the simplicity and slowness of just being and enjoying ordinary things. But it also forces us into this uncomfortable place where we have to reckon with what really matters and what life is about, where we’re really going and what we actually believe. It makes us confront our hearts more than our actions that usually define our days. We so often blindly walk from day to day without throwing much of a thought at what we’re doing, when there is so much value to be had in the stillness.

In his time of ministry on the earth, Jesus stripped back the social conventions of the day and turned things on their head. He confronted people’s ideas of doing what they did just because that was the done thing to do, and brought it back to the heart, the motivation.

I feel like this strange time we’re in is another way of being forced to grapple with our society’s way of living and thinking, and bring it back to the heart.

I’d like to think that I’m a relatively independent person and do my own thinking and make my own decisions.

It’s a bizarre thought then, to wrap my head around the idea that a great deal of what I think of as my own independence, initiative and ideology is actually the subtle work of almost 28 years of immersion in my culture.

With that in mind, It’s quite a task to try and come to terms with what I actually think, and what is truth, as opposed to what my culture tells me to think. 

As a follower of Jesus, in particular, how much of who I see God to be is shaped by my cultural eyes, and how much is truth? How much of what we think a ‘Christian’ life looks like is what God is calling us to, and how much is ‘Christian culture’?

No doubt, the answers will bring both beautiful and freeing truths, as well as confronting and difficult ideas to grapple with.

I find it intriguing, how the common thought of what is good and right continues to change a great deal throughout history. Every generation thinks that they’ve got it right, and that whatever the previous ideals were, are clearly wrong. However much we think we’ve got worked out now, I’m confident that we’ve still got some of it wrong. 

When Jesus came to earth and turned the way of thinking in his day on its head, people were deeply challenged and confronted by his words. As history goes, every generation has found different parts of the gospel hard to swallow, and has perceived scripture differently through their own cultural lenses. It begs the question: what aspects of truth do we find unpalatable in our current day? And how are we wrongly interpreting the word of God with our own fallible thinking?

I don’t have all of the answers to those questions; but I’m sure that will take a lifetime of reckoning with the truth. But that’s the point isn’t it- we need to keep grappling with the truth and come to know in an ever deeper sense the One true God and who He is; and we need to let that truth continue to shape the way we live and re-mould it, rather than growing numb and living blindly in the way that our culture tells us to live. 

It needs to be a daily thing.

As challenging and new as this time is that we find ourselves in, I find deep peace knowing that in an ever changing world where much of our perceived ‘security’ is removed, God is constant and loving and faithful, and we can find hope in him. 

In the end, life’s not really about all that busy stuff. Let’s get back to the simplicity of loving God and loving each other. 

As John says in his gospel, eternal life is that they know the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom He sent (paraphrased from John 17: 3). 

[forhisglry]

The Terrific Territory

I wanted to share some thoughts on Territory life, as I round out a year in the top end.

I may be living in the capitol city of the territory, but it’s certainly no schmick city life here, for which I’m glad. Life in the territory is raw. It’s a place of opportunity. Things are simpler, and messier; not as refined with glowing lights and stilettos, but honest. Things take a little longer. It’s a frustrating place, where transience and constant change often means that nothing really changes.

But there’s something about the territory that gets in your blood, and it’s hard not to fall in love with it. What you see is what you get. It may be slow, but it’s also alive.

I’ve seen the full cycle here now: the sweaty build up as the sky ominously threatens to pour daily, without the actual reprieve of rain, followed by the sweet delight of wet season with its magnificent and powerful beauty; then there’s the dry. It's vibrant and alive. People come out of their elevated houses with those life-saving louvered windows and fans that never get turned off, to finally enjoy some daytime sunlight without profusely sweating. It’s wonderful. You even get the occasional delight of throwing a light cardigan on when the temperature dares to drop below 20 degrees. Or even dust off the jeans from the bottom of the wardrobe. 

Dry season is full, with abounding activities filling every evening and weekend. The ocean cools from tepid bath water, to slightly refreshing, reducing the risk of box jellyfish, which some of us take as safe enough to risk the crocs for an occasional dip. Festivals, live music, community markets; people love that sort of thing and get all around it. I think it’s embraced so well because people crave community. Darwin is full of displaced people, all wanting to surround themselves with family of sorts, because their families are somewhere else. We make our own families here. So it means that community events are well supported. It draws a certain sort of crowd, Darwin, and those that don’t love it tend to leave pretty quick.

You may have not lived here for all that long, but you can’t go anywhere without bumping into at least someone you know. It’s nice.

Darwin is a diverse place. Culture is celebrated and embraced well, and I’ve enjoyed the learning that comes from embracing the diversity. I love having my mind opened by the vast array of cultures, and worldviews and backgrounds that gather in Darwin. Somehow, I have managed to fall into a lovely eclectic group of friends who seek to understand each other and love those who are different. Friends who are worlds apart in where they come from, but stand together in unity; who model inclusivity. As isolated as I am from my family, I’m so thankful for the little community that I’ve got around me, and the things we learn from each other.

I’ve also learnt of the strength and knowledge of Australia’s first people; as well as more of the dark history of our country, and feel deep shame for the hurt that white Australia has caused. I know that deep-set attitudes of ‘othering’ the ‘outsider’ need to change around this country, from individuals to the government, and I can see more and more people starting to stand up. 

A year ago, I made my way up the Stuart Highway, with no idea what moving to Darwin would bring, sweating profusely and hoping this was a good decision. Seasons have come and gone, and you can feel the humidity rising once more, and know what it brings with it.

I’ll miss the weekly camp trips, but I’m looking forward again to the trees turning green, and watching the storms roll in.

The question you get all the time up here- ‘how long are you going to be in Darwin?’ still has no answer from me. I usually blurt out something along the lines of ‘I’ll be here as long as it’s right to be here.’, which is such a cop out, but it’s true.

I do love WA, and I’m sure my Darwin friends can confirm I often talk of it, with pride. 

But, I’m fond of life up here, too.

I don’t really know how long I’ll be in the territory, but it’s certainly found its way into my heart.

[forhisglry]

Walking towards Jesus.

What does it mean to be a follower of Jesus in our world today? In a world that seems to be deconstructing faith and religion, it can become difficult to navigate those questions.  

What does it all mean? What is the point of any of it? What does a ‘Christian’ life look like?

Does it mean I attend a Church service every Sunday?

Does it mean I try my best to live well and achieve things ‘for God’?

Does it mean I once said a prayer asking Jesus to be my God many years ago?

Does it mean I get involved in my community and serve regularly?

Does it mean I meet with other ‘Christians’ and read the Bible?

Does it mean I pray regularly?

Does it mean I don’t smoke or get drunk?

How do we measure the ‘success’ of a Church community following God?

They’re questions that I’m sure many of you, and I, have asked before. For the last year, I’ve gone through a strange period of time where I’ve rarely attended regular traditional ‘Church’ services. While still maintaining a community of Jesus followers around me, I’ve had some time to really ponder the purpose of Church communities.

In Christian circles, we often talk in terms of people being ‘saved’ or not; being ‘in’ the family or not; tick boxes that confirm someone has said some prayer and are now on the inside. Different congregations have different ‘rules’ that say whether you’re in or out. ‘If you’ve asked Jesus forgiveness and don’t drink, then you’re in’; or, ‘if you get baptised and are involved every week serving at your church, then you’re in.’ It varies from place to place, but these subtle lists can miss the point of what it means to follow Jesus. Don’t get me wrong, a lot of the above habits and practices are good things. But what if that’s not really the point? What if it’s not that neat?

What about those who were born into a Christian family, but aren’t choosing that now? What about the person who came from a messed up background, and God is slowly transforming them, though they don’t look like your perfect model citizen yet? The reality is, it might look like I’m in, when I’m really just walking towards the door. Take a look at Judas, one of Jesus’ disciples. By all accounts he was in; he looked the part. But when it came down to the final crunch, it was clear that he wasn’t really moving towards Jesus. And it might look like someone is the furthest away from being a Christian, who is really running full steam ahead, safely into the arms of Jesus.

Maybe, rather than looking at followers of Jesus in regards to who is in or out, we focus instead, on the direction we are walking.

And the thing is, it’s not going to look neat. There will be people at all different points in that journey. And it’s ok that they don’t have it all together at once; It’s ok that I’m not fully there yet, because as long as I’m walking towards Jesus, he will continue to transform me. What a comforting reality that is, taking the pressure off me, and putting the focus on knowing him!

The point is not so much about a bunch of relatively good people living ‘good lives’ for Jesus, but more about a whole lot of broken people moving closer and closer to, and walking with, a God that moves towards them and says ‘come, follow me’.

Jesus addressed that idea of knowing and being with, rather than living ‘for’ him, in his interaction with Mary and Martha. As Mary sat and listened to Jesus, she moved towards knowing him, while Martha was busy trying to do things for Jesus, but wasn’t actually spending time growing closer to him.

A while back, I listened to a podcast by Tim Mackie looking at this idea of Christ-centred Community. I can recommend it for a listen.

In it, he talks about our identity as defined by our posture towards the centre, that is, Jesus. The question is not one about who is in or who is out, but are you moving towards God, or away from him?  

Take a look at the people Jesus called to follow him. He chose the most eclectic group of people. Some of who, in no way identified with a life committed to God. Some of who we’d consider downright bad people. People who were originally enemies of each other before they came to know him.

But He called them, and they became followers, not because of where they started, but because of where they were going.

And that’s the kind of Jesus that I want to follow. The one that welcomes in outsiders. The one that goes against the ways of society and says ‘follow me, I’ve got a new way’. And it’s called love, and grace and kindness and forgiveness, and looking after the orphan and widow and alien. Jesus wants to create a community of people who grow closer to him in character, loving people, living in humility and grace. As we truly get to know him, it’s transformational. And that’s the point of Christian community, to point each other to Jesus. 

It’s about facing Jesus, not some western version of Christianity that we’ve created. And maybe that makes it look messy, because we can’t define it by who’s in or who’s out. But at the end of the day it’s not really our place to determine who is in or out of the family of God. All we can do is respond to the Jesus that moves towards us, and turn around and walk towards him too. It’s not about our inability or ability or will to live a good life or achieve great things ‘for’ Jesus. It’s responding to a Jesus that invites in the sick and the hurting and the dirty and says come follow me. That puts the emphasis off us and onto Christ.

It doesn’t matter where you’re coming from, but where you’re going to.

For Jesus just wants us to know him.

Because in the end, it’s about relationship. And sometimes we can over-spiritualize and complicate that, but it’s about knowing, and walking with the God who offered us everything. Jesus, may that be my reality. 

“Being confident in this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6

[forhisglry]

Let’s change the dialogue.

‘I say what I mean and I mean what I say’

Hey friends. 

Over the last few months, I’ve been observing and considering the words we say. In particular, the ones we say without thinking. It’s almost comical, how we all use common strings of words, even when they make no sense at all. I always have a chuckle at the old ‘I slept like a baby’, when we really mean the opposite to what we’re saying. I never heard of a newborn baby that sleeps more than a couple of hours! 

We’re told our words have power, but I think we often forget it. And I’m guilty of this too. 

Society presents us with a dialogue that we’re expected to use in a variety of social situations, which we continually spew up without a second thought. But do we really mean what we say? I truly hope not, when you consider some of the things we are conditioned to speak.

It differs from culture to culture, language to language, but the idea is more or less the same. We all become indoctrinated into a culture, where there are things we are meant to say to people, and responses they’re expected to give in return. We’re taught from a young age to say things like ‘hi, how are you’ and to always respond with ‘good, thanks, how are you’ but never ‘no I’m not good’, whether we really mean it or not. Our little ‘culturalisms’ become so normal, whether or not they’re true. Greetings. Small talk. Exchanging pleasantries. It’s often a pretty meaningless dialogue, but becomes so ingrained that we begin to believe the story that we’re telling, or think it’s rude when people break from that norm.

I’m not against pleasantries. But what an odd bunch of sheep we are, who mutter things to one another out of politeness, which aren’t true at all, and aren’t even very polite when it comes down to it. I think if we really thought about the ideals behind some of the things we say, it may not line up at all with what we perceive our view of the world to be. Or if we do agree with the story, then society has truly won, and we are all products of the culture we are a part of. But I dare not believe that is the case. 

I hear comments thrown out to friends who have young babies or children and are considering going back to work. ‘Oh, good that you’re getting back to your real life’, they get told, suggesting that the reality of spending their waking hours with a toddler to teach them and play with them is somehow not ‘real life’. Or the old ‘getting back your body’, as if somehow she lost it somewhere along the line when she had her baby.

I have worked in some busy maternity units, where there is often a lack of resources, time, and pressure to get women discharged who aren’t really ready to go; already painting the picture of a system that doesn’t value mums and babies, that they’re not worth the extra funding to ensure they get the care and education they need. But this is also subtly echoed in small comments I hear around the halls. Team leaders and managers talk about ‘getting women out the door’, a statement not really considered under pressure and one that gets thrown out flippantly. And I’m sure they don’t mean it, but it speaks of women as though speaking of cattle, another number to count, but not as an individual to consider.

We say ‘another day, another dollar’, in response to our day at work, as if the reality of our lives means nothing apart from the money it earns us. Are we really that un-excited about life, or un-caring about our job, or that consumed with money, or that self-absorbed, that it’s all we can come up with? I hope not.

Don’t even get me started on the comments you get as a single woman in your late twenties...  

The list goes on. The thing is, yeah, I’m sure a lot of the things we say are harmless, if not amusing. But sometimes, the core of our dialogue can cause a great deal of damage and send a message that we never intended. 

I see friends and strangers both hugely impacted by words from other people.

I’m not saying to completely throw out pleasantries; but maybe, let’s consider what we say, and the message it brings.  

What if we said less, but meant more of what we said?

In some way, it’s something we can all think on. But especially for those, like me, who claim to follow Christ. How does the story that I tell with my words reflect the heart of God? 

The Bible echoes this thought many times, that the words we speak can ‘have the power of life and death’ (Proverbs 18:21). God commends us to consider what we say. “Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.” (Ephesians 4:29).

I want my words to bring life, to value people, to honour God.

Come on society, let’s wake up and change our dialogue.

After all, I’m sure we can be a little more creative! 

[forhisglry]

The treasure of Jesus.

The last few months, I’ve been considering the idea of how the things we value direct the way that we live. Last week, while cleaning out my t-shirt drawer, I came across an old over-size crew-neck from the West Coast Eagles 2006 premiership, which I’ve absolutely worn to death. The once white t-shirt has turned a soft shade of yellow, and the proud picture of an eagle on the front, holding his premiership cup, has morphed from vibrant yellow and blue to an almost mouldy green in parts. (Who knows, I live in the tropics…. anything can grow mould). But I still don’t really want to chuck it out, because I value it.

When something holds value to us, we are usually willing to go the extra mile to protect or keep a hold of it. 

As followers of Christ, we are implored to sacrifice everything for the sake of knowing God and making him known. But why do we often find this so difficult? We might be willing to give one aspect of our life to God, but when it comes to our family, or our location, or our money, or something else, we hit a roadblock. I think it’s got something to do with where we place our value. The truth is, that If we’re struggling to seek Jesus more than anything else, there is something else we are treasuring more than him.

While in and of themselves, these things are not bad things, they were never meant to be the thing we seek most. Family is important. Relationships are important. But only Jesus can bear the weight of all our value. All other things are temporary and will fail or fade at some point. Only Jesus can truly satisfy our souls in an eternal way.

I don’t think it is necessarily about valuing these things less, but about valuing God more.

Is Jesus your greatest treasure?

I’d love to say I was this amazing person who truly sought God first in everything and delighted deeply in Him always above all else. But the reality is, there are still areas of weakness, pride and selfishness that I allow to be my treasures too often. Oh, that I would remember daily, the value of that which has saved my soul. Thank God, that in his faithfulness he continues to gently work through these areas, to bring my whole life under his lordship. 

Let’s for a minute consider Jesus. You may have heard a thousand times who he is and what he has done, that you forget the depth of it and have grown blasé. Philippians 2 summarises in a beautiful and powerful way, the remarkable being and work of Christ Jesus. “… who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death- even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Wow.

If Jesus really is who he says he is, then he carries more value than we could ever imagine. And if we let that value inform the way we live, sacrifice will not be sacrifice, it will be privilege.

I love the way Oswald Chambers puts it in his book, The love of God. “Sacrifice in the Bible means that we give to God the best we have; it is the finest form of worship. Sacrifice is not giving up things, but giving to God with joy the best we have. We have dragged down the idea of surrender and of sacrifice, we have taken the life out of the words and made them mean something sad and weary and despicable; in the Bible they mean the very opposite. To go out in surrender to God means the surrendering of the miserable sense of my own unimportance. Am I willing to surrender that mean little sense for the great big idea God has for me?”

Are we willing to lay aside self for the sake of the gospel? Not in a way that groans in sadness at our ‘loss’, but one that rejoices at being able to give even a part of ourselves to The One who means everything. It’s not meant to be a drag! As Paul puts it in his letter to the Philippians, “But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.” Cost is in relation to worth. When you know the worth of the treasure you possess, you will have joy even though it costs you everything.

It doesn’t mean the cost is easy, just that it is worth it.

Do you ever have those moments where you get a little taste of perfection; of life as it’s intended; of heaven? As if the blindfold was lowered for just a brief second and you understand the depth of something that you had never really understood before.

I had one of those moments a few weeks ago. I was alone at home, listening to some old and daggy 90s worship song from my childhood, and I had an image of all peoples together, praising and celebrating God. It was beautiful and sacred and I was so deeply filled with joy in the presence of God. And you know, in that moment, I got a feeling that it’s a bit of an idea of what heaven will be like, and I wished I could stay in that moment forever. 

Moments of true, authentic worship are what we were made for. Pure and God-focused.

I think sometimes we get this misconception about what heaven will be like. When we talk about ‘treasures’ in heaven, we often think about the things we treasure most on earth: gold, the people we love, our favourite foods and activities, giving us this image that heaven will be some weird amalgamation of everyone’s idea of a ‘perfect life’ all mashed together in one reality. Or that heaven will be this boring, perfect ‘good place’ where nothing much exciting happens. But really, the treasure of heaven is Jesus. And when we sit in eternity, whatever it looks like, nothing else will matter. He is our greatest reward. Being with Him in his perfect presence for eternity is the greatest gift that could ever be imagined. He is the treasure of heaven. He is what we gain. “Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” (John 17: 3)

The world is obsessed with finding yourself, and living your best life now! But it’s not really about finding ourselves. It all comes down to knowing God. Enjoying God. Loving Him forever. After all, that’s what eternity is about. The only place we will ever truly find ourselves, is within Christ.

How much is God worth to you?

The Bible says, Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

When we can say with assurance that Jesus is our treasure, seeking Him will be a joy, not a drag.

Reading His word will be a delight, as through the pages He shows us more of himself.

Losing something for the sake of Christ will be a privilege, not a sacrifice.

The more you grow to know God, the more you can say, that through everything and despite anything, you will have joy- because of Him.

When Jesus is truly the thing that we treasure most, and knowing and enjoying Him becomes our deepest pursuit, all else will pale in light of that.

I want to come to a deeper realisation of that. To live as if to gain Christ is everything, and losing all else for His sake is no sacrifice compared to the value of him.

Oh, to enjoy Jesus as he ought to be enjoyed; as in heaven.  

[forhisglry]

The Laksa Life

On my very first night living in Darwin, I learnt the best place to get a Laksa. I learnt that markets are a pretty big part of life. I learnt that top-end wet season sunsets are pretty spectacular. And I learnt the welcoming and friendly nature of the people that are drawn here from all over. People get a taste of Darwin life and never leave; they moved here for 6 months, 8 years ago. I instantly fell in love with the slow-paced outdoors lifestyle; the sounds of thunder as it hails in the ever welcome storms; the cool breeze that comes in the evenings, making afternoon walks along the beach the sweetest breath of fresh air; the beautiful cool clear water of the gorges and swimming holes only a stones throw from the city. And I fell in love with the people.

It’s a different sort of place, Darwin. In some ways, so slow and still and timeless with so much history. And at the same time, a vibrant place with a melting pot of cultures and peoples. Transient, yet unchanging.

It’s not some fairy-tale tropical dream though. Life up in the top end has its own challenges, and doesn’t always have such a pretty history. Alcoholism, poverty, mental health, racism, poor health, violence, crime, identity and displacement are some of the big issues faced, and are often rooted in something much deeper. For me too, living away from family comes with sacrifices, and making deep friendships in a transient place can be difficult and takes time. I often miss my family, old friends and a refreshing dip in the ocean without the imminent risk of death by either crocodile, irukandji or box jellyfish. And you certainly have to get used to being constantly covered in sweat after zero exertion (at least I don't have to use moisturiser). Work life, too, is different.

Having been working at the same hospital in good ol’ Perth for the last few years, it’s been interesting to say the least, to test myself out in a new setting. While still living in the same country I was born in, I’d say that more than 80 or even 90 percent of the women I care for are from different cultures than my own. And so, even though I’ve worked cross-culturally before, I’m learning a lot.

Midwifery (and nursing too) is different in the top end. Many of my patients have complex co-morbidities including Rheumatic Heart Disease, which is rarely seen where I’m from, and poorly controlled diabetes amongst other medical and social histories. In some ways, it’s a lot more complex, and in some ways a lot more laid back than down south. There’s certainly not the same time stresses or pressure to get people discharged, that I remember from the busy hospital I used to work in, but there are different pressures. It’s a pretty normal occurrence here, for your patient to be missing off the ward for 90 percent of the shift, often missing or delaying important medications and observations. Non-compliance is a hard thing to navigate, especially when it comes with a history of non-culturally appropriate care and a lack of clinical education in a way that patients can relate to. For one thing, you learn to juggle your day around patients being on the ward; and for another thing, you learn the importance of cross-cultural communication.

Working with people from many cultures other than my own, often communication is a big challenge. Communication is essential to all human interactions, though historically has often been done poorly between different cultures. People from different world-views often struggle to see eye to eye. It’s funny, coz you think you’re not part of the problem; but when you explain something as clear as day (in your opinion), but then it’s not understood, it's easy to get frustrated. We all want people to understand us. And if I, who have spoken english my entire life, struggle to communicate what I mean at times, how much more-so the challenge for those who speak english as a second language to convey what they mean. I’ve definitely been learning to take a step back and try and see things from others’ shoes. What do they hear me saying as opposed to what I mean? 

Back home as a midwife, I had a lot of my education spiels down to a ‘T’, working in my previous hospital. But I’ve had to re-think, and tweak and grow as I learn different ways words are understood in different cultures, and ways to explain things that are more culturally appropriate.  

I’m learning the art of compromise. I’m learning to be creative. I’m learning that me explaining something clearly, doesn’t always mean it is understood. I’m learning the value of shutting your mouth and just squatting on the floor of your patient’s room to listen as they tell you stories. I’m learning that my way of doing things is not always the best way, and other peoples and cultures may approach something in a completely different or better way. I’m finding that rather than me ‘educating’ women, sometimes I just need to stop, watch and learn. I’m learning that where I thought I had pretty good cross-cultural knowledge and skills, I continually have so much to learn. I’m learning that where I thought I knew a fair bit about Australian history, there is so much I have no idea about, and more and more that breaks my heart.

I’ve really only had a taste so far, and haven't yet experienced the incredible dry season that everyone tells me about. But as much as it is different, it’s also the same too. People everywhere want to be heard, understood, cared for and safe. People want to be loved and have family members close.

I’m not here to change or fix things in a broken system and a broken world. Only the God of reconciliation can truly do that. But I am here to continue to learn, to listen, to be, to love people, and to love and enjoy God wherever I am. By the grace of God, at least I hope I can do that. 

[forhisglry]

What do we know?

One of my favourite things about travelling alone is the interesting people you get to meet along the way.

On a recent trip home from the states, I sat beside a girl in her early twenties. We began talking and soon discovered that she was from a Christian family and that her family was connected with YWAM (youth with a mission), a missions organisation I had worked with some years ago. (yeah small world).

We talked openly about our lives and experiences and she shared with me about her struggles grappling with faith over the last few years. I encouraged her to continue to seek out truth and grapple with these questions to understand why she believes what she believes.

She explained that one of the hardest things was understanding how the God of the Old Testament was the same loving God from the New Testament, and how He could ‘allow’ some of the horrors throughout history. Not the first time I’ve heard similar questions.

Let me just point out here, that I’m not getting into some deeply theological discussion in this post about the way God does things or why bad things happen.

But what she said got me thinking.

Sometimes in life there are things where we only know a part of the truth.

We don’t always understand God through history because we can only see a part of the story. We don’t understand why a person is acting the way they are, because we can only see a part of the story.

The danger comes when we jump to conclusions about what the rest of the truth is, and form our own ideas based on that. We can end up truly missing the mark, and hurt people along the way, or miss out on something amazing God may be trying to teach us.  

Every human being has a limited view of reality and truth. We look at the world through our lenses and can only see and know what we see and know. Sometimes darkness can hide the true reality of something, and what we think we see can be frightening and doesn’t always make sense. Take for example, a child in a dark room looking at a shadow cast from their doll. It may look like a monster in the shadows, when the reality is quite far from what they can see. I guess it’s the same in life. Shadows can mask our view of the whole truth.

It can be like that with the ways of God sometimes. God is all knowing. He sees all, understands all, and is above the concept of time. In our limited human capacity, we will never be able to see or know the whole picture. We can continue to learn and grow and never exhaust the capacity of God. He is infinitely wise!

The question is, what do we do with that gap in knowledge?

Sometimes we look at the reality we see and it doesn’t make sense. Why did God do that? Why did the good person die? Why does it seem like evil is winning in moments?  

Not all things in life are face value, in fact, most things aren’t. We need to learn to try and see the other side of things, and to be careful to not make a quick judgement about the things in life we don’t know. The back story often puts the reality in a different light. Maybe a person is acting a certain way because of hurts in their past. Maybe from their cultural background, what they said was polite, when to us it may have seemed offensive. Maybe God has us in this situation for a purpose. Maybe there is a person in our path that God wants us to meet. As the old saying goes, put yourself in someone else’s shoes. 

When we’re going through a hard time, and we’re struggling to see the goodness of God in it, we need to learn to take a step back and ask ourselves some questions. Does the character of God change? Who do I know God to be? Has He been faithful so far? Has He promised to continue to be faithful? The answer is Yes. I can always come back to these truths that I do know. When I look through scripture, and through history and my own life, the truth is that God IS a good and faithful and loving God, always has been, and always will be. Even if the present reality doesn't look like that, one day the light will be switched on and the shadows will be stripped back, and we will be able to look clearly and see.

But until that day, we must hold onto the truths that we do have.

And trust.

I guess that’s a bit of what faith is.

Hebrews 13:8 ‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.”

Psalm 116:5 “ The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion.”

[forhisglry]

Take this cup from me.

Here’s a generalisation, but I’d say that probably the majority of people I know want to live a quiet, simple life. Myself included. 

We don’t want inconveniences. We just want to be happy, do our thing, get along with our lives. 

But I suppose the thing is, what if this oh-so-elusive life we are trying to attain isn't what we are meant for. 

Sometimes the things we were made for mean a little inconvenience. Or a lot. Sometimes they will hurt. Sometimes they will push us outside our comfort zone. And sometimes we’ll wish that someone else could do it instead of us. 

Why me? It’s a question I know many of us ask when confronted with a challenging situation.

And we’re not the first ones to ask that question. I feel like maybe it’s this innate human struggle many of us have, where we don’t like getting singled out for stuff. Maybe it makes us feel alone. It’s challenging and foreign and means we can’t follow a familiar comfortable route. Why do I have to be the one to do it? Can’t someone else? 

I love that scene in The fellowship of the Ring, where Frodo is talking to Gandalf in Moria. “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” To which Gandalf responds, “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

As we come into the season of Easter, I’ve been reflecting on the life of Jesus and what He did. 

There’s no better example of someone who is faced with one of those ‘why me’ moments than that exemplified in the life of Jesus. A perfect man, who made the single most significant sacrifice in the history of the world. He did it without complaining, yes, no small feat in itself. But that doesn’t rule out the struggle he felt deep within Himself at what this would mean. One of my favourite verses and I think one of the most relatable, but also the most challenging things Jesus said in the Bible, was this, ‘Father, take this cup from me. BUT, not my will, but yours be done.”

Jesus recognised it was hard. He knew that taking on the sins of the world would mean receiving the punishment for it. He knew the cost, and the pain. YET, He followed the will of the Father. He found strength in God to carry Him through. 

He didn’t whinge, or complain, or make excuses. Instead, He prayed (in Beck’s paraphrase) ‘I wish I didn’t have to do this, because it’s really really hard. BUT. I will do what You want me to do.’

And through it, He achieved the greatest reward. 

The question is, what will we do when we get to those ‘why me’ moments. Will we learn from the example in Jesus and follow Him in obeying the Father’s will. 

And when we do, we are not alone. God is with us. He sees and He knows what you do. Let Him be your strength. 

It doesn’t even have to be the big stuff. It’s the small stuff too. 

‘Go help them clean up.’ Why me? I just want to relax. 

‘Go talk to that person over there.’ Why me? They’re so difficult to get along with. 

‘Go pick up that piece of rubbish in the park.’ Why me? Someone will just throw more rubbish there later. 

‘Go comfort that person while they cry.’ Why me? I don’t feel like dealing with someone who’s sad. 

Will we be the ones in history that stand up and say, yes, I’ll do what needs to be done. No matter the cost to ourselves. 

To finish with another quote from Lord of the Rings...

“One of you must do this.....

‘I will do it. I will take the ring to Mordor.”

[forhisglry]

Fingerprints of God

My sister recently had a gorgeous little bubba. I love watching newborns transform in those first few weeks and become their own little person with their own little quirks. It’s always fun though, trying to pick out where they got things from. Is that mum’s nose? Definitely looks like grandpa’s ears, and dad’s smile. Whatever it is, we look and see the ‘prints’ of the family in the new little one. 

I suppose life can be a little bit like that too. Things happen, and you can see the ‘prints’ of something else at work.

The last four years are something I didn’t plan, but I wanted to share something of the unexpected beauty of what God did. A story. To give Him the glory, to encourage, but also to remind myself that what He’s done before, He will do again, in His way, anew. 

I didn’t really want to stay in Perth, a city, for this long. To be honest, had circumstances been a little different, I may very well not have stayed. 

But here you go. 

Step one. Get into uni. Get a house.

Mid January, four years ago, I didn't know what I was doing (do we ever?). Wasn’t sure if I would get in to study midwifery, where I’d live if I did, and if not, where would I go. 

I tried to be proactive on the chance that I’d get an offer, but all my plans for housing kept falling through. Nothing was working out, I was getting frustrated, and considered pulling the pin and not bothering with uni at all. One Friday I received my acceptance letter to study. The very next day I got a message from someone I didn’t know, offering me a place to stay with them, having heard from a mutual friend that I needed a room. 

Having really no other options, I took the plunge to move in with four strangers. Cool, heaps of people do that. 

Step two. Provision.

Only thing at this stage was, I had no job, no money and no furniture, and no help from Centrelink for another 6 months. 

A few days after I agreed to join the house, still puzzling over the details, I received a call from an uncle. ‘I heard you’re moving in with Naomi!’ He exclaimed to my shock, and informed me he knew of one of the girls I was moving in with from Church. He said he had some furniture if I needed some and dropped it off for me in the next week, making my move in easier. He also knew the house we were moving into, a good friend of his having previously owned it! (How interconnected can the Perth community be?)

Within the first week, through amazing provision, I had all the money I needed, and a job lined up straight away. 

Step three. Just details. 

There was a funny little thing I discovered a few months after we moved in to the house, which in a way was another way God let me know that this was Him at work. 

We rented the house through an agency so didn’t know the owners. 

Through my studies I met many pregnant women. One day, a lady I met through uni, who I was following through her pregnancy, drove me home after her appt. I’d been having car problems and she wouldn’t let me take the hour and a half public transport home, when she could drive me there in 20 minutes. I gladly accepted, and discovered to the surprise of both of us, that her brother and sister in law owned our house! (what even are the chances of that ever!?) We sat in the car for about 10 minutes with our jaws dropped. 

Later on, I found out that she was a Christian, as well as the owners of our house. We spent the time together praising God for the strange way He works!

Step four. Community. Family

I thought it would just be your ordinary share house, do your own thing, maybe stay for a year or so, then move on.

Little did I know. 

My new housemates informed me upon moving in, that we’d be doing all our food together and have a joint account. I’m sure I had doubts at this point about the logistics of this. 

Sooner than I could blink, it became so normal. And we did more than food together. I learnt that my housemates were solid Christians and we began praying together. I discovered they had similar interests and passions and we began studying, working, holidaying and camping together. I realised just how unusual and unique our living situation was when after telling a work colleague about it, she called it my ‘hippy commune’!

Before I could realise, this became home; these five became my family. There through the good days, and the shit ones. There to laugh with, and tease. There to cry with, and pray for. There to argue with about the best way to cook prawns, and there to forgive. 

I realised I had stumbled across something special. Not by my planning, but by the gracious gift of a loving Father. 

It hasn’t really been an easy four years. But perhaps the struggles would have been greater still, had I not had this to come home to.

I look back on the last four years and I see the fingerprints of God. Five strangers became my family. God promised me I’d never be alone, and He provided that in a surprising way. 

It’s a weird time now, being at the end of that. We’re in the process of moving out and going this way and that. But I constantly thank Jesus for Nomes, Tam, Corey and Shel. 

God is there through every season. That’s the short version, but I suppose it’s just a taste of how God’s been there in my life for the last few years. 

Learn to trust God with the unexpected. He may just bring something better than what you could have planned in the end. 

To God be all glory. 

[forhisglry]

What if we prayed the difficult prayers.

‘What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise’ Laura Story

It’s funny how the most loving thing doesn’t always seem so in the moment. When you think about parents and the decisions they make in regards to their children, it may often seem cruel in a child’s eyes. 

And when you think about the trials God takes us through, they seem so difficult and unnecessary in the moment, but once we’ve come through it we can see the way God strengthened us, or the things He taught us through it. 

And as brothers and sisters in the faith we are taught to rebuke one another, sharpen each other, to keep each other on track. 

Yet why is this so hard to do? Why are we so afraid to offend and keen to keep the peace that we let each other slip down paths that should not be trod? 

In today’s society we are so bloody politically correct and afraid of offending everyone with truth that we don’t always say what needs to be said.

What if we dared to say the hard truths to each other? 

But more than that...

What if we dared to pray the hard prayers for each other?

I got thinking about how we always tend to pray for ‘wellness’ and ‘safety’ and ‘blessings’. Yes of course, they are good things. Things that make things easy. And comfortable. But since when did we learn through comfort? Since when did comfort challenge us to trust God more? 

James puts it well in the Bible:  “Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.” (James 1:2-4, The Message)

When a friend is going through something difficult, we awkwardly say ‘I’ll pray that it gets easier soon.’ or something along those lines, and pat them on the back. 

What if we dared to pray the hard prayers for each other?

What if God has placed this challenge in their life for a reason, or what if He is using it to bring about His purposes in a way we don’t understand in that moment. 

Why are we so quick to pray it away? 

Why are we so quick to pray the easy way out? 

Are we afraid they might get offended if we don’t ask God to take away the difficulty? 

What if, instead, we prayed that through whatever challenge they would be strengthened in God. 

That they would learn. 

What if we prayed they would grow to know more of His love. 

What if we prayed they would be surrounded by the love of His people. 

What if we prayed that God’s name would be made known in tragedy. 

I know its easy for me to write that, but it’s something completely different when we actually go through difficult circumstances. No one wants those hard times. They are uncomfortable. Ugly. Painful. 

But I too hope there are people in my life that won’t be afraid to pray those difficult prayers over me, even when I don’t have the vision to see it. 

“Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle. ” Phillips Brooks

[forhisglry]

The Front Porch

One thing I really love to do is walk around back streets with people and discuss the features of houses that we either love or hate. 

“Look at those balustrades.” 

“I love the stone-work in that wall.”

“Those windows are pretty awful.” 

There are always a few features that I smile at every time I see which are definitely on my ‘ideal house’ list.  

Front porches are one of them. 

It’s not just that they are pleasing to the eye. Yes, I do think they finish the front of a house off nicely, especially with a well placed chair, a few hanging pots and a nicely kept garden, but there’s more to it than that. 

Front porches encourage community. 

You may find it fascinating to walk around a newer area, and then an old area. The sad thing I notice is that while front porches are abundant in the older areas, with sweet people sitting on them, modern houses are characteristically lifeless on the front, with no one to be seen. 

I find it an interesting reflection on today’s life and culture in a bustling city. In our independent society, what did we lose when we lost our front porches? 

Anyone that has travelled will know that many cultures are better at this than our western society. When I think about the time I spent living through Africa and India, so many significant conversations, connections and friendships came about by simply walking around the neighbourhood. 

I miss that. 

But it doesn’t mean we can’t create it here. 

I love to sit outside and greet my neighbours as they go past. We may not have a front porch in our rental, but I will often grab a cuppa and plonk myself out in the sun on my moon chair. It’s amazing how often someone will go past who just wants a person to talk to.  

But in the busy-ness of life and work it easily gets forgotten, and I find it so easy to get stuck in the routine of hiding away in the house after work too without making the effort to talk to anyone outside my bubble. 

It’s not necessarily porches that are the problem. It’s making ourself available. We shut ourselves in a own little cocoons while the people next door do the same.  

I’m not saying you need to go build a front porch. No need to make that Bunnings trip and spend next Saturday out there measuring up the house. 

But spend some time in the front yard every now and again and you’ll be surprised by the conversations you may have with the strangers next door. 

Make yourself available.

Go sit in a cafe alone and meet the people around you. 

Open your eyes and don’t be in such a rush. 

There is beauty to be found in pottering. 

After all, how are we meant to love our neighbours when we never see them?

“And the second is this: ‘love your neighbour as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.” Mark 12:31

[forhisglry]

Limitless Love.

Here’s a thing you’ve heard before; God’s love never ends.

It just struck me.

Well, of course, I’ve understood that before and I’m constantly amazed at it. But as I sat there contemplating my inability to love very well, or in fact let others love me, it hit me.

The fact that God rejoices over us, is not dependent on whether or not we are living a life that pleases Him or not. He simply does. He simply loves us.

All of us have an end to our rope. There’s that point where we get absolutely run down and exhausted. Or there’s that point where we explode in anger. Or there’s that point where we’re fed up. Or there’s that point that it hits us and we get super stressed and anxious. There’s that point where we can’t feel anything. Whatever it is, we have our limits.

But. God is limitless.

Limitless.

No matter how much suffering and hurt and heartbreak and sin there is in the world, God’s compassion doesn’t reach an end. His love doesn’t get exhausted. It’s not dependent on our love for Him or our goodness. That tank never ever gets even close to being empty. He doesn’t look at you with weary eyes and say I can only give you a bit of love today, it’s been pretty rough. No. It’s always full and complete and unconditional. 

God is love. God never fails. Love never fails. Never. 

In my weary human mind, heart and body, that blows my mind; And it warms my heart; And it strengthens my body.

 If you’re feeling tired or run out of love, I hope that encourages you. God will never stop loving you. He won’t get tired of it.

[forhisglry]

Stuff I’m learning as a midwife.

It always makes me have a little chuckle, the amount of cliche things in life that are actually really true, or good advice.

I’ve been a fully fledged midwife for a little over 2 months now and most of what I’m learning is what people told me I’d learn. Big surprise there.

I’m working at a busy tertiary hospital in my city, thankfully less than ten minutes from home, which is a relief when so many other aspects of your job are high stress. Being one of the major referral centres for high risk maternity cases, we are constantly flat out and a great number of our patients have some complex health issues, some of which I’d never heard of a couple of months ago.

I’ve just finished 8 weeks on the ward, where you rarely have less than 5 patients (plus their babies) and are often trying to juggle postnatal women, breastfeeding issues, the baby with low PGLs, the primip who needs education, the day one Caesarean who just came back from theatre, make sure your antenates have had their daily CTGs and scratch down some notes, meanwhile trying to get your discharges out the door before management are on your back because they need that bed!

Needless to say, its been a steep learning curve.

But I love it.

Anyway, I moved to Birth Suite a week ago. But here’s a few things I’ve learnt from 8 weeks on the ward. Some of it is midwifery, but some is just good life lessons.

Follow your instinct. Don’t ignore it. You actually probably know more than you think you know.

Listen to the patient. Often they’ll know better than anyone whats happening in their body.

Some things can wait. Learn to prioritise what needs doing now. And some things can wait till after your break. Because breaks are important.

Don’t just sit in your not coping corner and not cope. Tell someone. Let them help you.

If in doubt, ask.

And do some obs.

Bedside handovers can save lives. Don't sign to say you’ve done one when you haven’t.

Actually, just don’t cut corners. 

Recycle if you can. Even if you have to walk to the other end of the ward to do it.

Medicine cups are recyclable.

So is cardboard.

Always check that a woman has an IV cannula in before administering prostins.

Write down everything, because you will forget.

If you’re forgetful, like me, do something straight away when you tell someone you’re going to do it. Or you will forget.

Explain things to your patients. You might do this every day, but it’s all new for them. Answer their questions. 

Put a warm thing on a baby’s foot before attempting a guthrie, or a CRP, or a PGL, or anything really that needs a heel prick. A good warm thing to use is a glove filled with warm water. Works a treat. 

Be honest.

Did I say, ask?

People are usually happy to help when you ask.

Be kind to everyone. Kindness goes a long long way. And people remember it. 

Don’t always trust everything others tell you, find out for yourself. They might have made their own little shortcut. 

Make an effort to not let other’s shortcuts become yours. 

Document EVERYTHING.

Get to know your colleagues. Yeah thats a simple one, and we all know how much it makes a difference. I love it when I come to work and the coordinator asks how my sisters wedding was or the ward clerk buys me a coffee because I look tired or the RMO gets excited with you over some family news. Seriously, without the people around me I’d dread coming to work each day. Ask them how they are and actually listen to their response.

Doctor’s aren’t scary. They’re people too. 

So are patients. Patients are people. 

It’s normal to not know stuff. If theres one thing I’ve learnt its that no midwife knows everything. Not even the really experienced ones. Or the doctors. Never feel like a failure if you have to ask twenty questions a day. Midwives that work in partnership with other midwives are so much stronger for it.

And even though sometimes the hospital is a madhouse, and you have to do hand hygiene at least a hundred times a day, and sometimes the weather looks really great outside but you can’t open the windows, there’s nothing I would rather be doing. Because being a midwife is one of the greatest privileges and I thank God that He has guided me into this role, to hopefully be an influence in the lives of women and their husbands and their babies, that they too can look and say, ‘how amazing is God!’.

[forhisglry]

Right here, right now.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes all I want to know is what’s going to happen in the future, some kind of guidance or direction or reassurance. And I don’t think I’m alone in that. 

It’s interesting sometimes to look at personality types to understand why you do and struggle with the things that you do: I’m a visionary; a campaigner. And while that can be great and useful, it also means I find it hard sometimes to do those nitty gritty details in the moment. (Another reason why community is oh so great). I get these grandiose visions of what I or others around me could accomplish with my (or their) life and get really excited about it and want everyone to know and be in on it. And sometimes I wish God would make it easy and give me the script so I can have a read through before acting the part; check out the last page to see what happens. 

Yes, there have been times where God has given me specific direction regarding where to go and what to do, and I have friends who God has placed a specific calling over their life, to go here and do this or that. But the thing is: for many of us, God doesn’t give us those big ‘this is what I want you to do with your life’ visions. Because I think we can get so caught up in that big idea, that we forget the point. 

God is alive, and God does speak. But it’s not our tomorrow that He’s thinking of, He wants our today. 

It’s in these every day moments, right here, right now, right where we are, that God wants to use us; that He wants to love the world through us. 

When I think about my life, and the ways I hear the Spirit guiding me- its in how I should be living for His Kingdom today, right where I am, not tomorrow. The whispers of the Spirit to talk to this or that person, the nudging in my heart to be available, to listen, to serve. 

When we look at the Bible, and what it speaks about how we are to live, and what God is calling us to, He gave us the Great Commandment and the Great Commission. 

Love God. Love others. 

Share the love of God with those who don’t know about it. 

I think sometimes it’s our own ego- we want to know that what God has planned for our life is worth it. We want to know that we can achieve this or that great thing by the end of our days, to show what we’ve done. 

But we can wait around for that big vision, tricking ourselves that we’re just waiting for God to speak, with no intention of actually following Him, and using the waiting as an excuse to not act; as a fall-back instead of facing the fear of stepping out, and taking a risk.

We want the security of a future, without the sacrifice.

Because it’s so much easier to give God tomorrow than it is to give Him today. 

For me at least. 

But unless we’re choosing it today, is it real? 

I don’t know what way you struggle with it. Maybe living for God today is ok, but the idea of giving Him your future is daunting. 

To be honest, I’ve seen far too many people walk away from God because they didn’t get their life script; God ‘didn’t show them what to do’. But I think it’s so much simpler than that, that we miss the point. He HAS told us what to do. 

What’s the great commandment? 

Love God. 

Love others. 

What’s the great commission? 

Tell others about God’s love. 

It’s literally that simple. 

Don’t get me wrong and think I’m saying don’t listen to God. Heck no! Being still and available to the voice of God is invaluable and so so important. And sometimes He says to wait. But where is our focus- is it on wanting God to speak about where we are going to go, so our worries about our future are stilled, or is it on waiting on God to speak about who He is, and who we are, and how we can be His child, His hands and feet, right now. 

I need to remember that I don’t need to be a missionary in the third world to be serving God with my life, and that if He has me here, in Perth for the time being, working as a midwife, then I can love Him in that every day. I recently applied for jobs for next year as a midwife, and I have no idea what doors will open or where I’ll end up, which is exciting and daunting. But hey, who knows where i’ll even be tomorrow? 

Lord, help me to have willing hands today. Each day. Every day. 

Lord, my wandering spirit wants to move, and then I’ll serve you somewhere else, but I need to be still, and let your heart beat through me right where I am. Because right where I am, wherever that is in the moment I exist in, is the only moment I can do anything about. 

“Therefore do no worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” Matt 6. 34