The last few weeks I’ve been weighed down by a perpetual feeling that I don’t belong; that I’m not home; that I just want to rest but cannot seem to find my rest. All this has left me worn. It’s left me seeking solace in solitude and sinking deeper into the sadness rather than feeling the clouds lift.

The last few days I’ve found myself blessed by the simplest of moments. The first of which is captured best in the photo below.

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I called a friend, and asked a question. My voice was hoarse and she knew that tears were there as I asked the question. Her response was the best possible reply: “Do you need to come over?” I took up the offer, and trekked to a side of Sydney that’s largely unfamiliar to me and spent a night sitting on a couch that is more familiar to me than almost anything else I know, and spent time with the friends who feel like home.

After the two youngest children had swimming lessons, we spent a few minutes playing with my phone. The result is the photos above. They’re precious. There is such a blessing in time spent with children who remind you of God’s unconditional love by simply loving you because they know Jesus.




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Newtown Mission felt too hard this week. Bed seemed more appealing. However, it was the last night for a bunch of American students who have been volunteering and I wanted to say goodbye. Begrudgingly, I showed up. Not surprisingly, God blessed me through His people there. I heard a testimony that moved me; sung a song about God’s great name; talked about Eastern Orthodoxy and drank ginger beer. I walked home feeling refreshed.

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This afternoon with laughter and determination, I taught a friend how to box. The simple action of moving my body around, and the glorious sound of boxing gloves hitting focus pads in a hall that echoes is just joyful. The satisfaction of finishing something that’s hard but good for you is great. The company of a friend who understands that sometimes the best way to be a friend is to simply be there and let you be normal – even if that does involve boxing gloves and push ups.

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Finally, Light Up the Street happened. We talked through couch surfing. We marvelled at God’s love for all people. We struggled to understand how it is that we’ve become desensitised to walking passed those who beg outside train stations. We were confronted by the words of 1 John that if we say we love Christ, but hate a brother or a sister, we are liars. We laughed about the super indie camera shot of my tattoo.

We prayed, most of all.

And then, as I got home, I opened the fridge and made myself a cup of tea, smiling as I remembered that such a simple action is a blessing only God can give. I am thankful for this strange place I call home these days. I am thankful for the people who allow me to be part of their family, even on my worst days. I am thankful for Jesus, because only in Him does any of this matter.

Even if the weight doesn’t lift easily, I’m confident that among all this weight and cloud there is the God who is Love and I will never stand alone; He wont leave me an orphan.



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