Water thoughts

Today I received a video in my inbox, one that spills with gratitude and joy as a woman speaks hopefully of the chance for her son to go somewhere during the day where he gets clean water. Clean water to drink, for his food to be prepared in, for brushing his teeth. Just one of her children might make it, might have a chance to defy the odds that declare you won't have a chance to contribute to the world.

A Mother dreams of safe water

The sheer significance of this amazed me and shocked me out of my normal comfortable western world. Just the other afternoon I ran along the vast expanse of a clean beach, I double- cartwheeled and accidentally fell into the water where my friend asked "are you gonna have a drink?" to which I responded "course not!". I wouldn't dream of drinking from the ocean. Yet, I live next to the ocean; I live close to the Sweetwater creek, and Tagalong creek, and I live in a place where rain is plentiful, and I live within a house whose every room boasts a tap that brings forth fresh healthy and clean water, and an abundance of it, at any moment I wish. Would I even dream of taking a sip in the ocean? Never! But the sad truth is that the salty water in the sea is probably far better and less harmful than what this woman has ever known.

Back to the video...

This rural living Tanzanian woman, lives in such a place that it takes 5 hours to walk for a day's supply of water. And that journey can be whittled down to 3 hours, if you're lucky enough to have a bike. And mind you, this riding route is no manicured Melbourne cycle path. Let me tell you about the quality of this supply. They can't even make the choice: is dirty water swimming with all kinds of microorganisms that carry life-limiting and health-diminishing viruses better than no water at all? People say that education is the key to success and breaking out of the poverty cycle. But before that, when you consider that 5 hours of your day is fetching water not to mention house chores and the inevitably large distance to a formal school, you might also consider that school isn't a possibility.

How can it be that most days I don't even spare a thought to be thankful for this life-giving resource that is necessary for my survival. No matter whether I materially have much or have little, I am affluent, I am rich, I am abundantly blessed. Because of where I live. So while I'm focusing on simplicity through the season of Lent, I will confess my ingratitude each morning and thank my Father who gives me water that is a blessing and health and not a curse and disease.

oh,and if reading this drives you to want to be part of assisting another son like Asha's to drink good water and have a chance at life... I encourage you to join me as a partner with Compassion Australia- https://www.compassion.com.au

Blessed to be a blessing!

When the world is in turmoil: Friday 13th November 2015

Something awful has happened in recent days. Awful and shocking enough that capital cities all over the western world are changing their nightly illuminations to reflect a spirit of one-ness with the nation that drapes itself in a blue-white-red flag. The seven attacks across the city known for love sealed off the lives of at last count 129, maimed another 350 unique and normal people, shattered a much greater number of dreams and hopes, and devastated the hearts of loved ones and indeed, the whole nation that is called France.

It’s remarkable that this horrific event has occurred in the wake of Remembrance Day which earlier this week, called all us Australians to a moment of solemnity. Out of this association arises a call I am driven to echo: Let us not be a people that are stubborn in solely self-focussed patriotism, but rather, let us be swayed by the storms that unrelentingly cause severe suffering to named human souls with whom we share this planet.

Many voices are clamouring that suffering is not isolated to France and are disheartened by the attention it has drawn from the western audience. I do, however appreciate that this is for many, more close to home. We all know French people. N’est-ce pas?  En fait, I have two very close French friends and more who have each imprinted upon my life. Just a few weeks ago I spent a beautiful evening dining in Frankston’s new French restaurant with friends, making plans to get the “French Breakfast” flavour into T2 and laughing at one another’s impersonations of French dialogue. I know a few people travelling within Paris currently, and the culture I’m part of values individual people and lives so strongly, every single one. We do care if a single life ends prematurely, not just if a community or population’s mark is erased. That’s our mentality. Our Christian heritage, as a western country, has sewn into us a God-given appreciation for the sacredness and value of every single human life. Personally, my heart feels a heavy weight as I think of the paramedics, nurses, and emergency personnel, and try to envision what it’d be like to walk a few steps in their shoes, en route to the mass casualty incidents of this weekend. The job you train specifically for but never think will eventuate. Ironically the colours of Ambulance Victoria and the career I’ve spent four years with my heart set on, mirror the blue white and red of the French flag. It’s something I notice. I wonder if in such a time as this, it’s a feeble sympathy that causes these connections to surface. 

Yes, I’ve travelled to Egypt, Israel, the Middle East, to nations of Southern Africa; I have close friends who have escaped the increasingly commonplace terror oppressing these countries. Yet France has infiltrated our culture in some unique ways and that is what I want to capture amongst the outcry that white skinned people only care for fellow white skins.

(I will definitely write further on this so stay tuned...)

This afternoon as I jogged the familiar route responsible for my fitness, Casting Crowns broke my rhythm with the soaring melody that is “White Dove Fly High” (lyrics only). I was reminded through the opening lyrics that as inhabitants of this earth we are many peoples, but we are human; and we express the same emotions yet through different syllables and sounds. The fourth stanza drew my eyes to a blue sky, then the imagination of a white dove and then my mind immediately contrasted with this the shed blood of many quenched souls laying upon French soil; White. Red. Hope juxtaposed with tragedy in the French flag.  Blue. A sky under which all of humanity, and indeed we Australians, stand. 

As a sister, a daughter, I mourn for each single life that was lost last Friday and for the families that the bullets broke. I hope that they had a trust in Jesus Christ, a relationship with the Spirit of God who descended in dove-like form, whose peace, whose calm refuge and shelter promises victory, purity, unity, beauty: under whose wings the scared soul is safely hidden even in storms. In death such a believer makes the passage to eternal life, the early ending of their earthly life a loss only to we who are left behind. It is Jesus who stirs me to weep with those who weep; to mourn with those who mourn, and this I do in contemplative humility. How do we honour each life? By giving time. By setting aside moments of respect to take in the loss, and then to take out a deepened gratitude for blessings and freedom and a reinforced resolve to overcome evil with good, to live peacefully, to love our neighbour, to speak up for the oppressed and fight for what’s right.

This world is stuffed. Natural disasters, global warming, and today’s unsurpassed human depravity signpost decay. Where is hope now, where is hope here, when a world is catastrophized by an abundance of evil that is evident just this weekend in ISIS, in Boko Haram, in Japan’s earthquake, Baghdad’s funeral bombing, Beirut’s suicide bombing, Mexico’s earthquake? In my contemplation I read a truth that radically, makes me rejoice: that “the Lord Jesus Christ gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the PRESENT EVIL AGE, according to the will of the God who is our Father” (Galatians 1:3-4).
Thinking of the cross, I am taken to the feet of the most glorious king and the most humble human and I realise that there Jesus’ arms are spread wide, opened up to embrace me and to embrace my fellow Aussie, my French brother, and every other member of the human race. 

I hope and pray that (like the song lyrics) this country’s clean and blue skies should be cloudy and grey not forever. That what I hear about France will give me thoughts of wings of hope spreading wide, a white dove dancing, flying free and happily. What I am praying for is heaven - and whilst that can only be reached from the other side of death, we can receive that heavenly experience in daily life through the invitation of Jesus to live within us and transform us with His powerful love. The city of love is injured yet through this God I have love within me that could not be displayed by even the greatest human city.

~ His perfect love alone drives out fear ~

What about the refugee crisis?

Distressed, war-persecuted, trauma fleeing faces and feet are flooding Europe, seeking asylum, yearning for protection, walking forward in the hope of finding a place of peace to rest their feet. They know they are leaving home, leaving their cultural identity, leaving the things that have formed who they are and yet they must - to survive, so they do it almost unthinkingly, like responding actively to that inner voice, the survival instinct.

Last night I rallied with thousands of other Melbournians who share a belief that humanity is created equal, that we Australia, have boundless plains to share and want to not only sing that in chorus but courageously act upon it and lobby our government to do so by increasing the number of refugees we agree to settle. This one night won't make a huge difference in the scheme of things- in reality standing in the cold with a sea of candles does not constitute grand action. It does however, form a part, a picture of the message-spreading we must relentlessly engage in. In a western world where it is only too easy to make choices that disconnect us from the reality of the wider world, or to shroud ourselves in amusement and entertainment and our own pursuits, it is a big shift to engage in the fight for refugees and do so with conviction. I am guilty of this- I must confess I have removed myself so far from these situations that it's like I need to be physically punched to feel the sickness that should naturally wash over me as I saw the picture of 3yr old Aylan washed hopelessly and helplessly onto that shore. I want to feel deeply, to love with sincerity and to use my resources to help in the capacity im enabled to- but the tool behind this is KNOWLEDGE. Let's stop shutting our minds, let's stop being scared of the stories of suffering, let's listen to someone's story, their journey, the refugee in your local neighbourhood or on the bus who has to wear a mask and struggle to find a niche in this complex culture. This means I've gotta ask. I've gotta choose to ask their story when there's a million other things I could be doing. I want to unashamedly sing "for those who've come across the seas we've boundless plains to share" as a proud Australian citizen- and sing that with integrity. It's one thing to lobby our government to alter policy but another and equally important thing, to convey a welcoming attitude to those who ARE here. To be welcoming, not hostile to be available not distant.

To finish this post, I will reflect on my somewhat sleepless night. After the #lighththenight rally, I travelled home, read up on previous notes from refugee health events i'd engaged in, and prayed. I brought these people to their Maker and then I closed my eyes. Moments later I found myself in a crowded room next to a hidden boat ramp. I was told I'd be on the second boat, two boats would leave that night anytime from 7pm as we had to wait til dark. Eventually the first one went, I said goodbye and blessed those who were to leave and I prepared my essentials- priorities for what to take were based on survival: the 10hr journey was anticipated to be very cold and so I got a beanie, gloves, 2 layers of clothing and a jacket, I was told there wasn't room for more. Finally I was ready but I also wasn't. I worried I'd be cold, I worried about what was happening next, and I wondered why on earth this was happening when I took a last look at the fading boat where 2 dozen people lay supine on the floor of the boat- no room to move at all. One of my closest friends was in that boat, he looked back at me with a sad smile. Even as I waited for my boat with a family of Pakistani friends and another very close friend I worried that we wouldn't be warm enough, I was so anxious. And then I heard we'd wait another whole day because the second boat was not coming this night after all. Tomorrow night at 7pm. I hoped our money wasn't in vain. Worried and waiting.

And then I woke.

I don't know what this dream meant but I feel like it made me get in touch with the refugee experience more, and get a more tangible glimpse of their reality: it was mild but by combining this surreal experience with my knowledge and with the personal stories I've heard, the issue is coming closer to home.

I am a blessed and privileged woman. 

It's not my right to live as if in ignorance.

I am called to stand up for the rights of the poor and needy.

I am called to love and welcome.

Was blind but now can see...

Today was one of those fairly-average days which turned into fabulous. All because I let myself get stopped by a smiling stranger in the middle of the shopping mall. I now get the joy of knowing that every month, on the 15th I can wake up and know that one more person in the world was blind but now can see.

Two years on from my attention being moemntarily captured by multiple billboards at melbourne train stations, I began to actually understand why it had something to do with me.

• 20yrs ago eye-saving surgeries began in our Aussie backyard - who would believe that in such an affluent, advanced developed nation we had a major "3rd world type" problem (cataracts) amongst our own Indigenous? Here in Australia the work started because its important to look after people at home first. Equality goes along with justice and it's what everyone should have so I'm happy to know that. 
• Simple sight-restoring surgeries began in hospitals in the pacific islands where there is a scarcity of eye doctors - only 1 Dr in 8 islands! You can't sponsor a child in the Pacific Islands - they're not touched by major NGO's. This is an opportunity to reach the largely 'unreached'!
• The Fred Hollows Foundation actually has an end goal: by 2020 they hope to remove themselves from every project as it will have become self-sustainable!
• There's probably more reasons you can find here http://www.hollows.org.au/our-work

I got asked why I made the decision to contribute to this cause.

Lots of reasons flew through my head -  i'm blessed to be a blessing;'to whom much is given much is required''; that verse - 'he did not withold his hand from the poor and needy and so all was well with him'; the fact that I'd just spent $15 on makeup to make my face look prettier when some people don't even have a complete face. BUT in my heart i knew it was the truth that...

Jesus heals the blind and makes them see, but he lets doctors use their talents, and ordinary people use their dollars so we get to share in these miracles.
And that joy of sharing is irreplacable.

It's what makes me feel alive.
I hope that everyone sees this. God doesn't need us after all -but he let's us see a need and feel a responsibility so that we give and only afterwards do we realize that with this joy, we wouldn't have it any other way.

I am forever thankful to John the Tongan-Cook Islander FHF advocate I met today who is a warm-hearted and passionate individual and with whom I had so many dreams in common! Home. Africa. Ending poverty for individuals. MSF. Hope for a better world <3

P.S. I am in horrific awe at how many sicknesses and diseases there are in this world. how did i receive the privilege of good health, good living environment, and a good education???

Always the best??

I've become so accustomed to opportunity, to having everything within hands reach as soon as I think it - that I won't settle for less. It's hit me now. As I cook dinner at a friends place and things don't go right. The power goes out. There's no grater for the zucchini. Someone scrapes off chopped (chunkily CHOPPED not MINCED!!) garlic into the pan. My trigger thought is "oh no! Now the dinner will suck; the garlic will be too noticeable, and not enough flavour will be extracted out of it. Nothing is prepared in the best way. It won't taste as good as, given the ingredients, it could.

Now that little scenario has got me thinking. One of my life principles is the justification But I just want to get the best of life! I've got to shop until I find the absolute best deal; til I find the best quality kitchen knives at the best special. I want to go on a sunrise-viewing expedition but it must be good weather, and for the experience to be 'worth it', must have selected the optimum location.  I would select classes that my friends are in but I have to organise my uni timetable in the way that maximises my freedom for other activities. Because that's the best way. But maybe the problem is all with me. There's a little boy on the other side of the world. He lives in a doorless hut, his single blanket every night is dirty. He doesn't get to choose where he lives and how convenient the location. He eats meals that have no variety, the same day after day. He doesn't get to choose the ingredients of dinner. He doesn't get to choose to go to the best school that offers the most opportunities and future chances. Heck, he'll be jumping for joy if he just gets to participate in school for enough years to receive a certificate! And he won't let what level of goodness he experiences dictate his life, it won't limit him. He doesn't have the best. he gets dished up hardly a fraction above the worst EVERY DAY. This little boy is named Tumusime, and he is my adopted-brother-in-Rwanda.

I'm sure he doesn't always have things the best, in fact I'm sure he hardly every experiences things as nicely as he theoretically could. So maybe having the best is not the point, it's not the priority. In Australia, one of the wealthiest most blessed pieces of land on this planet, we have the resources to do/make everything the very best. But it doesn't mean it's necessary. And it doesn't mean my life needs to be dictated by such a luxurious lifestyle.

I'm sorry, friends. Tonight, dinner will be satisfying, and that's enough. Even if its not the best food that I could ever dream up, it still tastes good.


Things don't always have to be the best.

There is Freedom.

There is freedom in writing. The pen is yours alone. You can say what you want. You can share you. People can respond how they wish, but it doesn’t change the fact that your soul is on paper. I love it.

I know another place there’s freedom. “Where the spirit of the Lord is there is freedom”  There is freedom from guilt, freedom from never ending pain, freedom to always dream again. And as the song continues 

/… to break every chain/

There is no limit when you’re living with the spirit of the Lord. When you’re living each moment through a God who has promised to never leave your side, when you’re letting God’s spirit infiltrate your thoughts. When you’re accepting the redemption Jesus offers and enjoying his limitless love. No recurring frustration or wrong has power to shackle you. Nothing can bind you. Because nothing has so much power that God’s greater, good, power can’t overshadow it. With the spirit of the Lord you CAN conquer; He says so and all we need to do is believe it’s true. Usually the greatest obstacle to freedom is our own doubt.

I have freedom, to live the good life. Anyone can have it :)

We are slaves no more, Freedom is our hope
Never looking back, Jesus You are Lord
We give all to You, We give all to You

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, There is freedom
Where the Spirit of the Lord is, Chains are broken
Eyes are open, Christ is with us...

(watch song)

Zooming in on the "why"

I recently saw this bit of text which gives clarity to my thoughts and reasons behind blog-creation:

"Blogs generate discussion. They provide a talking point. They open up minds to new ideas, alternative opinions and real issues. They enable people to share in ways which they might not otherwise feel comfortable. In my experience, blogs have given me a greater sense of a community fighting for justice and have encouraged me on days when I feel like it’s pointless or that I’m in it alone. In all these ways, blogs are invaluable…"

I sense that our tech-savvy society of instantaneous communication and familiarity places immature limitations on our vocabulary and deprives us of a depth of rich intelligence at times; it's easier at lunch to look at one's phone and laugh at a meme than to hold a robust or ethical discussion with a colleague. But beneath the shallow veneer oftentimes portrayed, is a depth that will never cease to exist: swirling thoughts - ponderings, questions, and dreams. There are so many possibilities that go unexplored,  sparks that aren't ignited, germs of ideas that aren't watered to maturity! There are opinions worth sharing, and thousands more words worthy of use. But, sometimes we forget to talk.

Or maybe we sense atmospheric pressures; we don't sense our friends rallying to our cause. It doesn't matter. This world is full of people. And surely some agree. So you can find them on the internet by starting a blog or a forum. But, on the other hand is the potential to make that cause greater - you could be brave. You could talk; with someone who doesn't agree initially; who knows?- their perspective may enable you to grow your idea; to see it in a different light; to articulate it more lucidly, and more passionately.

So I want to blog, connect with a wider world. But I also want to talk. Have better conversations. Conversations that lead to marks made in this world. Conversations that cause CHANGE!!

I hope that my blogging will not simply be an outlet for artistic expression but also a tool for growth in sharing myself more authentically: what drives my participation in life and this world as I see it. Here's to progress!