Unexpected

I have many wonderful memories from childhood of long summer family holidays on the East Coast of Tasmania. Scamander was a favourite spot for us with its long white sandy beach, pelicans parading on the sandbars and the beautiful Scamander River for fishing. My dad used to take what he called his infamous ‘bream rod’ and every year we’d keep a tally of how many fish the bream rod caught.  One year we hired a small tinny to try and catch more fish and so my dad, my younger brother and I ventured out onto the dark tea tree coloured waters in search of the elusive bream.

My father and brother were much more serious fishermen than I, consequently they had the rods and I was given a hand line with no expectations that I’d actually catch anything.

Ah, the serenity, drifting along with an easy current and occasional turn of the oar as the summer sun glinted on the water. Pleasant to be away from the ants, mozzies and snakes we’d find when we went to our usual haunts on the banks of the river. So there I was, leisurely dangling my hand line over the side with a small amount of bait attached, when suddenly, the line grabbed and the small hand reel was almost reefed from my grasp.

I got so much more than I bargained for because the pressure on the line was incredible and cutting through my hand. As I wound in the now taut line, up from the depths of the dark water came what looked like a snake, spiraling it’s body around the line, attempting to free itself from the hook.

Yes, no surprise here, I panicked, screamed, stood up quickly in the tinny and hurled the hand line in the direction of my father. Into the boat came a rather large eel which promptly landed in the bottom of the now wobbling tinny.

Both my brother and I scrambled as far away as we could yelling and screaming as this monster from the deep writhed just under our feet.

Firstly, my dad told us to sit still and be quiet.

My brother then boldly got out his fishing knife and attempted to pin the eel just behind its head. Instead of dying, the eel wrapped its body around the knife and pulled it out.

Again my father had to remind us to sit still and be quiet as we tried to scramble further from this frightening creature. Dad proceeded to cut off the head of the eel, which meant the body and head now separated, still writhed in the bottom of the boat all the way back to the jetty where my brother and I leapt out, relieved to be on land again.

My dad skinned and cut up the eel to take back for our dinner. Mum carefully placed the pieces of eel in the fridge on a plate only to find on the next opening of the door that all the pieces had wriggled off the plate. We, all except our father, decided we weren’t going to eat something that still wriggled. He said we’d be missing out on a very sweet meal.

Suffice to say, all these years later I still remember the unexpected encounter with an eel and while now I can smile about it, at the time it was rather terrifying to a young girl.

No doubt you all have some events like that in your life, where something occurred that you least expected. For me, I, with the poorest equipment, caught the only catch of the day.

There are times when we cope well with those unexpected moments, the ‘surprises’ of life. And sometimes, not so.

Then as a young girl, I had a father who took charge, kept us afloat and relatively calm, heading us safely back to the jetty.

In life, I find that I look to God to do that for me when I feel out of my depth and trapped in situations or circumstances I feel unprepared and ill-equipped to deal with.  I am thankful for a heavenly Father who is in control, can deal with all the situations I face in my life, protecting and providing for me when I need it.

Yes at times, I still get wobbly and panic when I feel out of control. It’s human nature and no surprise to our heavenly Father who sits right in the boat of life with us. I’m not alone, God is a constant gentle presence in every circumstance. He’s a very good Father to his children.

My hope is that you can find safety and protection in your life as you turn to your heavenly Father for the help you need in the unexpected out of control moments of life. He keeps his promises and can be trusted always. He’s in the boat, right there with you. You are not alone.

Finding home in the heart

‘What I love most about my home is who I share it with.’ Tad Carpenter

Some years ago, one of our sons was asked how he coped with the many house moves his parents made over the years.  His response came immediately and straight from his heart. ‘Home is wherever mum and dad are.’

I don’t think my husband and I ever planned to live semi nomadic lives, it just happened out of a mix of necessity and who we are.

We enjoy discovering beauty in all places and meeting people from all walks of life.

We are drawn to people and their stories of faith, hope and love. Stories that inspire, provoke and add to our understanding of what it means to be human.

We treasure those who have trusted us and felt at home with us wherever we are.

Thomas Merton says,We’re called to give our hearts to the world, but first we have to have our hearts in our own possession. We cannot give to others what we ourselves don’t possess.”

The journey for us as ‘happy wanderers’ has been to daily learn to be at home in our own hearts.

Learning the ways of giving and receiving, owning when we are hurting others, celebrating when we are part of the solution. Learning to listen to ourselves and to others without prejudice and judgement. Learning when to accept, forgive, and love well. Learning how to let go of fixing, advising, setting straight and respectfully refusing to accept other’s attempts to do so.

Learning ultimately to allow our gentle and good God to make His home in our hearts. This is still an unfolding mystery and the greatest adventure of our lives.

You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its home in you. ― Augustine of Hippo, Confessions

Questions for Change

Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.

Leo Tolstoy

Learning to Hold the Questions

Some time ago I had the privilege of attending an Educators Conference

facilitated by a well-known Australian psychologist, Andrew Fuller.

He had a profoundly spiritual effect when he posed the following questions to the audience:

  • When did you stop singing?
  • When did you stop dancing?
  • When did you stop listening to and telling stories?
  • When did you become disenchanted with the sacred place of silence?

The auditorium was silent for many minutes, considering the questions that he posed to modern 21st Century humanity. There was a hushed reverence as the powerful truths contained in the simple questions filtered through our minds.

We had to acknowledge the reality that we had changed. Unwittingly, subtly and insidiously, external forces and internal needs had conspired to change us without our permission or awareness and we had unknowingly lost something very precious in that process.

A step toward courage:

Notice how the questions challenge you to acknowledge that change has already occurred.

What are you going to do with your capacity to change?

Would love to hear your thoughts!

Letting Go

This is a self-paced reflective retreat. It involves five simple reflections and can be done in a day or over time.

Please click here to download a pdf copy of the retreat for you to use and share.

Courage to Connect

Self-isolation has provided some gold moments and some cabin fever moments, but the beauty in each day has become clearer. I’m enjoying the rhythm of connection with solitude, just as in music the melody is shaped and enhanced by the ‘rests’, the pauses that define the flow.

Connection is so precious in these strange days that I’m observing among our family and friends a gentle and growing openness to express and explore their genuine care, appreciation, needs and hopes. This deepening of conversation opens the door to more meaningful connection for those who are courageously taking the risk.

Let’s face it there’s no sport to speak of, no concerts, no outings to keep us on the lighter end of connection. Instead, with growing trust and respect there is a genuine desire to support each other, listen to each other and express through the limited means of technology our greatest human desire, to give and receive love.

My hope is that on the other side of ‘The Rona’ when life resumes its more ‘normal’ pace we hold some of the beauty of this season of solitude and deeper connection. Yes, we’ll need to resume our banter about daily life events and experiences as a very important part of human ‘doing’ that bring vital light and shade to interactions.

But here in this time of human ‘being’ how can we continue to treasure the newly found gift of really hearing, seeing and knowing each other?

Let me know what you’ve treasured during this time, and how you are going to hold it!

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