the coin wash.

Self Pep Talk

2012-01-27T11:10:00.000+11:00

Guess what--it's 2012 and the first month of the year is almost over.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

You need to get off your stubborn ass and stop obsessively checking your email. Turn off Ellen. Turn off Ready Steady Cook. It will still be there when you're done. Quit finding a thousand unnecessary chores to do or errands to run. You know what you need to do and you know it makes you happy once you start doing it, so why are you dragging your feet?

It's not too hard, but it might be now that you've allowed several weeks to go by without any practice. It's going to take a lot of time to get back into it again, but you know how to do it. Get out the sketchbook. Turn on the music. Turn on the lights. Pick up the pencil and draw.

You're almost there. You only have a few more illustrations to sketch, refine, and ink and then it's final draft time. And after that--you're done. Off to the publishers. See how easy it can be? Just do it. Stop wasting time and delaying. February will come and after that March, then April, May and June and BAM--half the year is over. You know you want this done and dusted this year. It's what your heart is committed to so just do it and stop mucking around.

NEXT.

You've made a lot of improvements to your health over the past year. For that, I say good job! You became more aware of what foods you chose to put in your mouth, how much of it to eat, and how often you ate it. You found these changes to be a lot more difficult than you thought. Why? Because you've never seen your habits as gluttony. You've just always eaten what you wanted, in whatever portion size you desired, at whatever time of day. That's how you were raised. Food has always been central to your culture and your family. But that has had a terrible impact on your body and your health. Over the years, you have consistently consumed enormous amounts of fast food items like burritos, tacos, french fries, hamburgers, chicken burgers, tuna melts, milkshakes, ice cream cones, frozen yogurt, deep fried chicken nuggets, and nachos. And then there was the baking--you'd often make cookies, brownies, cupcakes, and bars but then eat most of them instead of giving them away.

Where did you think all this food was going to go? It only has one place--on your body. And so you look at yourself in the mirror, shocked at the amount of fat that has collected as a result. But really--who are you kidding? You put it there. No one else did. YOU PUT IT THERE. So now it's time for YOU to TAKE IT OFF. And that means hard work.

It took years of consistently eating really bad foods to build this figure. So it might take just as long to take it off and you have to be ok with that. No need for anything drastic. Just put in more effort. Give your organs a little rest for crying out loud. Your poor liver, your heart, your digestive tract. They've been waiting years for this change to come. And you've already begun, so don't stop. Your next goal is to blast another 20lbs. You can do it. You already proved to yourself that it's possible. Last year, you managed to drop 23lbs and I don't think you even knew that was possible. So don't lose hope--you'll get there. Just kick it up a notch and you'll eventually move beyond your current plateau.

NEXT.

Stop stressing out over your family issues and dramas back home. So what if your Mom and Dad are still attending the fellowship in Alameda where they receive whack job teachings on what they think is Biblical truth. So what if they broke their promise to you that they'd stop going there every Sunday. Tough shit, kid. You need to get over it. People disappoint you all the time. This time, it's your parents. Yeah, it makes a difference to you because they're your PARENTS. You've always looked up to them, respected them, and honoured them. But they continue to dishonour and mistreat God's Word and at the same time, try to encourage you with it. That's what infuriates you. You need to let go of it. They will do what they want to do, when and how they want to do it. You can't change a damn thing.

Like your eldest sister. You can't change her either. No matter how old she gets, she will keep telling you self-conceited tales and fabricate all sorts of bullshit stories about her life to make it all sound so much better than it really is. But you should be used to this. You've heard it your entire life. You know her tone, her body language, the obvious habits; and you know the drill--just listen, smile and nod your head. Don't say anything or confront her on it because who knows what she'll do. It frightens you to think of how she'll respond if you open your mouth. And so often, truth is stifled because of fear.

But that doesn't mean it ceases to annoy the shit out of you. Why? Because you hate lies and being lied to. And you hate how your parents continue to defend her lifestyle just because they feel sorry for her and the kind of childhood she had to endure with her skin disorder. No, I don't know what it's like to grow up with psoriasis. I don't know the pain of chemotherapy as a 7 year old girl. I've never experienced being bullied at school. I don't know what it's like to have a daughter and see her go through all that pain. I have no clue as to how it would effect me as a mother and the incredible burden it would've placed on my heart. But the truth is, she's better now. She's not 7 and she's definitely not a rockstar. And so it's frustrating to see your parents' play into her favouritism games, always pitting herself against me or our other sister, trying to out-do one or both of us.

But you don't have to play. You don't have to listen. You can log out of your email account, shut down the computer and get back to what you're doing. You have enough on your plate to get done this year, so stop letting all this crap continue to cloud your mind day after day after day. It's exhausting and you know you're tired of it. LET IT GO--leave it to the One who can handle it. He is capable and mightier than you. He has been calling you to wait on Him and to get busy doing His work. He is faithful to complete it--are you?

Get on with it, Jos.

Happy 72nd Birthday, Dad!

2012-01-22T23:55:00.000+11:00

Dear Uncle Moses,

2012-01-22T22:57:00.000+11:00

The 49ers are playing the NY Giants today for a spot in the SuperBowl. I'm watching it right now on Australian television and thinking of you, knowing that this is the day you've been waiting for. You were always such a faithful fan, even when they weren't doing that great. I'll be cheering them on twice as loudly today.

I miss you.

Foreignness

2012-01-19T12:17:00.002+11:00

A little over two years ago, I left behind everything I knew. Everything familiar. Everyone I loved. I had a one-way ticket to Sydney, Australia and the moment I got on that plane, I knew life was going to be different. I had no intention of staying beyond my one year employment contract, but none of those intentions matter anymore. The reality now is that I'm still here.

What's it like? Still very new. Yes, even after a couple of years. I've been waiting for that day to come when I wake up and stop feeling like it's all just a temporary holding place. I have a girl friend who, like me, grew up in America, got married to an Aussie and is now living here. She's been here for five years. I asked her when that feeling of being established and comfortable came for her and she confessed, "It still feels like I'm living in a dream." She thinks it probably takes a lot longer. "Maybe 20 years?" I don't know if I'll last that long.

Sure, a majority of the population speaks English here. It's a completely westernized civilization with an obvious infatuation with and adaptation of American culture so technically, life here shouldn't feel all that foreign, right? But it does. Everything does.

Everything--from the labels on cereal boxes to the tone in which I end my sentences when speaking. Driving on the other side of the road and "keeping left" instead of right when walking on the sidewalk or what is known as the "footpath." Being served 1/4 of the portion sizes in America and shopping for clothes in a size 13/14 instead of 9/10. Sifting through sports channels only to find cricket matches, various versions of rugby, extreme fishing, and a D grade version of professional basketball which is called "NBL." Trying to run errands during the normal "trading hours" which are typically 9AM to 5PM every day except Thursday, when stores stay open 'til 9PM. Receiving the lowest level of customer service just about anywhere from the cafes to the stores. Hanging clothes out to dry on the clothesline instead of using the dryer. Failing to find trail mix at Target. Failing to find anything awesome at Target. Realizing "Target" here is not the same Target I once knew.

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a small, remote town that's about the size of America. Everything is just so simple, unreliable, and limited. Life in America was so completely abundant, consistent, and convenient. If I needed to shop after 5PM, I could. If I needed a specific ingredient for a recipe, I'd find it in three different brands. If I wanted to go out for coffee after 9PM, I'd have a slurry of options to choose from besides McCafe.

And you'd think that the longer I'm here, the more familiar things should become, but that's the complete opposite of what's been happening lately. I know life is what you make of it but right now, I can't seem to look past all that I've had to change. Maybe it's because it's more than just those day-to-day changes that I've had to adjust to. It's all the deeper layers woven in between. It's the fact that I can't just ring up my friends and meet up for lunch or have them over for dinner. It's not being able to just get in a car and drive to the beach. It's not having a local phone to pick up and dial my parents for a quick catch up and chat. It's the reality of new holidays and traditions without all the Christmas chaos, relatives, and fanfare. It's missing out on road trips with my siblings, driving up and down the California coastline. It's having to sit out on big events like friends' weddings or the arrival of their new babies.

Life abroad is hard. Being away can be fun for a time, but the excitement and joy of it is starting to wear off. I have a lot of good days most of the time, but I also face some really tough ones, too. It's not easy being a foreigner. What's crazy to think about is that this isn't even my real home anyway, so getting comfortable or feeling settled here isn't what life is about. It's about knowing my Creator more; spending more time with Him. Maybe that's why I feel so detached sometimes. I'm not as connected to my Lifeline, my Source, my Purpose. Here, in this big laid back country, I'm just another foreigner. I always will be. But with Him, it feels like home. He always is. I need to get back.

Dear Fam,

2011-12-23T12:12:00.001+11:00

I miss you. It's raining here in Sydney and while the rest of the city is mourning the weather, I am relishing it. I feel like it's God's own way of helping me cope with the distance and allowing it to feel like a December in California rather than one 11,000 miles away from it.

I tell myself things like, "God knows what you can handle" and "Holidays are rough for a lot of people" to help me not focus so much on the sadness I feel. I assign blame to things like the Department of Immigration for taking so long to assign me a case officer; I blame myself for quitting my job and taking the long route to permanent residency; I blame you for not wanting to spend Christmas here because you thought it would be "too hot." They're all stupid accusations but nonetheless, they exist in my head.

Maybe it's all catching up to me now. Two years ago, I didn't have time to get homesick. I was busy getting to know new people, new places, and new traditions. And back then, I still had it in mind that this place was just a temporary holding spot for me to gain some experience for a year and then see what happened next. But now things have completely changed. I can't see ahead anymore. I can only see what is and what's now. While I much prefer it that way, it tends to make the present reality a lot harder to digest.

Matt and I were recently talking about people who place all their focus and priority on the big picture rather than the day-to-day. Because for most of us, the day-to-day is what's harder to face. It's so much easier to dream big, think big, and keep our attention on those things in the sky. People don't like having to confront the now and address the steps needed in order to even reach those goals. Why "do" when you can "dream"? It's dangerous to live as a dreamer. You waste so much precious time doing nothing but wishing for things and when you wake up, you'll find that life has already passed you by.

Day-to-day living is rough. I don't mean waking up in the mornings, brushing your teeth, daily routines, dinner, and all that. I'm talking about all the stuff in between. The heavy stuff that takes time and energy; the things we tend to push aside and "deal with later." Those ones. They aren't pretty, but they're there. They exist. They are reality whether we like it or not. When's the right time to deal with them?

I've had to deal with a lot of things this year. When I look back, I realize there's moments I wished I didn't have to face. Days like when Cat was in the hospital or when Uncle Boy had a stroke or when Uncle Moses passed away. Other days like May 21st and the weeks of silence that passed and we didn't hear a peep from anyone. Days like special occasions--Mother's Day, Father's Day, birthdays--I battled feelings of guilt when I didn't fly back. Days when I knew people close to me were talking shit behind my back and criticizing me for leaving my job to write books and be a homemaker. Days when I had to lay down expectations I placed on people. Days when I had to accept that Matt's family would never be a replica of my own. Days when I couldn't just ring up my close girl friends to catch up for coffee because they live in another country. Days like now--holidays, when I know it's time for Christmas carols and the smell of fresh Noble and Douglas Fir trees and lots of cooking and baking and gathering together with relatives and I find myself wrapping gifts alone and carrying them to the post office instead.

"It's just for a season"--that's another one I tell myself. But is it? I'm not sure anymore. I know you want it to be and I think that's quite possible, but I can't see beyond today. I guess I never could and I actually don't want to try anymore. There's too much going on in the present and all I know is that right now, I really miss you. Your faces, your smiles, and your warm hugs. Your reassuring ways, your laughter, your presence. There's a cliche phrase that says something like "you don't know what you have until it's gone" but that's never been true for me--I've always known what I've had and I've always known that it's been good.

It's time for me to go and continue on with my day, but before I do, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for making my life so good and so full of joy. Thank you for showering me with the kind of love and affection I think every child deserves. You made life with you so good that now it's so incredibly difficult for me to be away from it. I know that one day Matt and I will be there with you again but for now, this is what is.

I love you so much. Merry Christmas.
xoxo

Lessons in Learning (part 5)

2011-12-18T10:18:00.000+11:00

My course was scheduled for Friday the 16th from 11AM to 2.30PM. Matt decided to take the day off so he could take me and then we could (hopefully) celebrate. Who is this guy? You lucky girl, you. My husband's been equally dedicated to this effort all week and it's shown. The past six days have been rough for the both of us as we've had to adjust our midnight to 1AM-ish bedtimes and wake up at the ungodly hour of 6AM.

Getting up before 7AM is never our idea of fun. Riding out to a training center thirty minutes away and cutting through traffic first thing in the morning isn't fun either but we knew it would be worth it in the end. Or so we hoped. Friday would tell.

Because the course time was later, I thought Oh good, we can both sleep in and hopefully my nerves will be so rested by then that I won't even think about it. It'll just be 3.5 hours of fun. But that didn't happen. My internal body clock woke me up at exactly 7AM and the moment I thought about what today was about, I felt ill. My stomach began to churn out something wicked and I rushed myself to the toilet. Not a good sign. Relax, Jos. Stop overanalyzing it. Remember what the Lord promised. You're ready.

I returned to the bed where my husband was out cold. Undisturbed, unmoved. I wished I was there--wherever he was right now in dreamland. Dead to the world and all it's worries. Close your eyes, silly. You can still sleep for another hour and then think about it all you want when you wake up. Finally, I went back to sleep.

The alarm rang. Shit--it's time. I felt excited and nervous. My stomach was empty so there was nothing to churn out anymore. It's for real this time. No more going back. Today is the day. For some reason, I started to recall a bunch of songs from the Sunday school classes I grew up in as a kid and began singing them in quick succession to distract myself and help me focus on the promises the Lord gave me yesterday. I couldn't help but want to sing them "toddler style" and make my voice sound small. I guess I was trying to make it funny since laughing helps take the stress out of my face. You can't really laugh and be stressed out at the same time, otherwise you end up looking completely psychotic.

We got changed, headed down to the garage, and got in the car. It looked like it was going to rain. Oh great--just what I need. To be slipping around on wet asphalt on two tires. Lord, please don't let it pour down? I know You can hold it off until I'm done with my course. The raindrops began. The roads were wet and I was praying that perhaps it was just the weather in the city. There's a chance it could be clear on the other side of the bridge.

It was. It wasn't sunny, but the rain had stopped and the roads were dry. Thank you, Jesus! We pulled up to the training center again. This is it. I'm going to do it. I can pass today and then, it's all uphill from there. I smiled, kissed Matt goodbye, and hopped out of the car carrying my helmet and gloves. What a wanker! Bringing her own helmet and gloves to a course like she's too good for the complimentary ones. As if she has experience.

The negative thoughts started to creep again. Assumptions of what my new peers would think of me. Who gives a shit what they think?? At least I'll feel comfortable. It's one less thing for my brain to have to process when on the machine. Other people might have brought their own gear, too and then what? You'd regret not bringing your own. But you have it. It's done. Be happy.

I checked in at the lobby as usual and was told to wait in the other room where the coffee and vending machines were. My instructor "Dave" would come get us when it was time. Dave? My slip says I'm supposed to be with an instructor named "Lou." Whatever...

A few others were already seated inside. I wasn't sure who knew who already and which ones I'd be grouped with for the course but I was glad to see others had brought their own gear too. I parked myself at an empty table and waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, a man who looked like he was about 50 with leathery tanned skin walked into the waiting area.

"Hi guys!" he said cheerfully looking around the room. Then he looked at me. "You must be Josephine?"

I smiled and nodded.

"Great! Everyone come this way and we'll head upstairs," he said and led us through the lobby area and up to a classroom I hadn't been to before. Thank you Lord. Nothing to remind me of Day 1. Dave was already a champ in my mind. I knew the Lord had picked him specifically to be my instructor for this final day. He was like a dad and actually resembled my own father-in-law a lot. I immediately felt comfortable.

There were five of us total. As we entered the room, I saw five empty seats. The tall grimy dude in front of me sat down in the first chair closest to the door. I contemplated sitting in the chair furthest away and closer to the window and then I thought Don't sit there. It'll remind you of Day 1 and you'll follow a destructive pattern. Trick your brain into thinking something new. So I sat down next to the grimy dude. Then everyone else shuffled in behind us and sat down in sequential order filling each seat one by one until the row was complete. The door shut and the class began.

I had a few highlights throughout the day like braking and shifting down to first gear quickly, feathering the clutch with ease, and making a new friend named Martina; but the rest of it is a blur. Sure, I learned a lot of important safety precautions like buffering and C.A.S. We did plenty of exercises to put classroom theory into practice outside. But the best thing out of all of it was how comfortable I felt throughout the day.

Maybe it was the fact that my instructor was like a dad to us, and taught us like we were his own children. Maybe I felt more relaxed because there was another girl learning with me too. Maybe it was the two peers seated on either side of me and their carefree attitudes. Maybe it was because I felt more familiar and connected to the machine. Perhaps all these things in combination factored in to how this day was going to go and that's what made it just right for me. I knew at once this was of the Lord--He had orchestrated all this to come to pass exactly as He wanted it to. And it was what I needed and how I needed it.

Before I knew it, we were back in the classroom waiting for Dave to bring us our certificates. I'm done! I did it. It's actually happening and now all I have left is the computer test which I know I can pass. Thank You, Jesus. You've been with me this whole time. You made today happen.

We all shook hands with one another, Martina and I exchanged details, and then I was off. I could see my husband in the distance waiting in the car and I knew he could see my big fat cheesy smile as I jumped up and down, skipping towards him, holding my certificate. It was over. I'd done it and I give all the glory to Jesus for bringing me through it.

Lessons in Learning (part 4)

2011-12-17T13:22:00.000+11:00

Fear cripples people. Since Sunday, my mind and emotions have been weakened by the constant influx of what ifs, followed by a series of devastating scenarios and images. Hesitation began to weigh in on my decision-making, and I began to lose all delight, desire, and determination in what I was doing. I didn't know how to move forward and when I really thought about it, I wasn't sure I was strong enough to keep going. I was still stuck on wondering, Can I really get past it? Hesitation was lurking.

What is hesitation anyway? I believe it's a close cousin to fear and a brother to doubt. When you're moving forward in anything and have to pause in hesitation, it's usually because you have doubt. What are those doubts? Where do they come from? How did they get there? For me, they stem directly from fear. I doubt because I fear something. I dread it. I'm afraid of it. But with fear comes bondage and in the end, I am trapped in my own mind.

I needed to break free and knew the only One who could help me was Jesus. He gave me a book full of promises in His Word the Bible. It may have been written thousands of years ago, but there's no doubt in my mind that His truths would be relevant to my present situation today. When you need Someone right here and right now, it's more than comforting to know that the person you're relying on says He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. So I knew that what He had to say to me regarding my questions would be spot on.

That's when I decided to reach for my journal and see what the Scripture reading was for today. As I picked it up, my thumb happened to turn to a page from back in November when I was journaling about strength. The title of my devotion that day was "Nothing to fear." I couldn't believe it. I didn't even remember writing that. But there it was, a page full of my very own handwriting, detailing the truths I learned on November 4, 2011 from Romans 8. How is this possible? It said:

For you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but you have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry 'Abba Father'...If God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not His own Son but delivered him up for us all how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?
- Romans 8:15, 31-32

We have nothing to fear because we have the Lord to turn to, to cry to, to go to. God is always for us. The same God who made the universe. The same one who says 'nothing is too difficult.' He is on our side, so there is no room/reason to be afraid or to have fear.

You have every confidence to pursue or do anything because the Lord is on your side. There is nothing to fear. You can trust Him for every little thing that might cause you to doubt. It gets cancelled out/smashed because the Lord can handle it. He takes care of it. He is there with you. Keep going and doing--He is for you.

I was speechless. It made me want to cry. God's promises are real and relevant. His answer silenced my hesitations. I soaked it in, my eyes reading and re-reading the verse and how it says, "you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear but you have received the spirit of adoption whereby we cry 'Abba Father'." I read this and was able to finally see how I had been giving fear a position of authority over this area of my life, rather than leaving it to my heavenly Father. I needed Him to rule this area, not fear. I needed Him to take over.

And so I gave it up. I let go and a flood of comfort overwhelmed me. Now that it's in Your hands Lord, what do I do now? What is it that You want for me in this? Am I doing the right thing? Is it ok that I am pursuing this desire? If you don't want me to, then please make it clear. Let me know today through Your Word if this is something I can do. I'm so scared. It feels impossible. I don't know if I can make it through tomorrow and pass Day 2. But if I do, I know it'll only be because of You and then I'll know for sure that You are for this and I have nothing to hesitate anymore.

I turned to the Scripture reading for the day. It said "Zechariah 4" and when I read it, I knew--Jesus is real. He's here with me and knows my struggles right now. He sees the ongoing conflict in my mind. Thoughts like Maybe I should take my fears as a "sign" to stop. Or maybe I'm just making a bigger deal about it than it needs to be. And as I pondered whether or not it was just a small issue in the larger scheme of things, He reassured me that it mattered to Him. He gave me these words in verses 6-7 and 9-10:

Not by might nor by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of hosts. Who art thou, O great mountain? before Zerubbabel thou shalt become a plain: and he shall bring forth the headstone crying, "Grace, grace unto it." For the hands of Zerubbabel hath laid the foundation of this house, his hands shall also finish it; and they shalt know that the Lord of hosts hath sent me unto you. For who has despised the day of small things? for they shall rejoice...They are the eyes of the Lord which run to and fro through the whole earth.

It was never about my might, my determination, or my willpower. It was always about the Lord and relying on His spirit to guide me through it. I needed to recognize that He was the one who would help me. I could let go of my fears and exchange them for confidence in His promise. His spirit would be with me. He would bulldoze my mountain of fears down into a desert plain.

Not only that but He put this desire in me, He laid the foundation and allowed me not just to learn but to gain more experience through private lessons. I could see now that He was the one who would help me finish the course. I now had every confidence in moving forward, knowing He was on my side. He confirmed to me that His purpose was always for me to pass and never to fail.

This thing was not too small for Him. His eyes run to and fro through the whole earth meaning He sees me every day and knows exactly what I'm going through and what I need. He had the perfect promise waiting for me and I was so thankful to receive it.

I don't know what other people rely on when they have no strength or confidence. Maybe they rely on material things. Maybe they rely on people. But neither of those have any real foundation or truth--only Jesus does. That's why He is the Rock. I can put all my trust in Him and know that I can't be shaken. I don't have to question or hesitate or doubt or fear. Not that I will never experience those things again but when I do, I know that I can release them directly to Him. He carries them for me and helps me move forward with confidence not in myself, but in Him. The Creator of the universe is for me. And who better to have on my side?

Friday no longer frightened me. I knew what I had to do and I was ready.

Lessons in Learning (part 3)

2011-12-16T11:49:00.000+11:00

Thursday. It was here. Day 2 of private lessons and for thousands of reasons (many of which I've touched on in part 1 and part 2) I was nervous again. But the name "Tony" just sounded like a nice older bloke and I was praying to God that he would be.

A short, older gentleman with friendly eyes caught my attention as he walked toward the clear window above the reception desk and slid it open.

"Josephine?" he asked smiling.

"Yes, that's me," I answered, hoping he was my instructor.

"Good! Hi, I'm Tony!" he reached across through the window to shake my hand. "Can I call you 'Jo'?"

Thank you, LORD! I thought to myself. Immediately felt my face, neck, shoulders and arms relax as though a huge weight had been lifted from off my back. This was going to be a good day. I just knew it.

After signing in, Tony came around and led me down to the same area where I'd gone with tall dry man the day before. He chatted with me like we were old friends which made me feel less self-conscious and more at ease with the reality that I was there again to learn. He went over specific skills of mine which needed improvement and gave me insightful tips. Then he allowed me to ask questions and bring up things that I still wasn't comfortable with.

It was a completely positive learning environment. I felt like Tony believed in me and that alone inspired me to want to soak in everything he had to say. He made me feel like I could do it. Rather than trying to teach me by verbal repetition and expecting me to obey his every command, he took time to listen, understand what I was struggling with, and then gave every day examples to relate to. I was then able to understand the basic principles and concepts in a new way and translate those to my riding. Gradually as the minutes went by, I began to feel more and more confident.

With the previous instructors, I constantly felt anxious. Making a mistake under their supervision was the last thing I wanted because it made me feel like I was in trouble. But when I made a mistake in front of Tony, I felt remorse as though I'd personally insulted him or let him down. I experienced a different sort of disappointment, but he never revealed any disappointment towards me. His instructions were straightforward but the tone was always uplifting. Each time he gave me feedback, he balanced every negative with a positive. It took the pressure off and he made me feel like it was ok that I was learning things gradually instead of rushing to perform all the functions at once.

By the end of the lesson, I had not only practiced left and right hand turns, but I gained confidence in balancing properly while in ready position and increased my skills in starting and stopping. I also learned how to control the machine at slow speeds, how to feather the clutch, and how to shift gears. Finally, I felt like I was not just on the machine but in control of it and part of it. And it helped that my instructor believed I could do it, too.

"I think you're ready for Day 2, what do you think?" he asked at the end of the hour.

"Yeah, I think so," I said and actually believed that to be the truth. I was ready.

Back at the reception desk, he pulled out a familiar binder and spent several moments looking through it and then comparing it to the calendar across the way.

"How about Friday, the 16th?"

I'd forgotten what day it was and thought to myself, That's good, I'll have a day to soak it in and then get myself mentally prepared for it.

"Ok!" I answered.

He smiled, booked me in, double checked the details on the slip he handed me, and then shook my hand goodbye. "Have a good day Josephine! We'll see you tomorrow!"

I smiled and then my nerves kicked in. Tomorrow? Is tomorrow Friday? Dang it! How did you forget already? As I walked out the door, I could feel the fears start to creep in again. You're coming back tomorrow for Day 2 and there's a chance you might not pass again. Then what? Are you really cut out for this? Are you sure this is ok with the Lord? Does He really want you to do this?

I didn't know anymore. I knew I felt good and confident and today was fun. Tony was an answer to prayer. But everything else was a blur again. A heavy, weighty blur. What's going to happen? What do I do? What will tomorrow bring? I didn't know, but I knew Someone who did and I knew He was the only One I could go to for the answers.

Lessons in Learning (part 2)

2011-12-15T16:25:00.000+11:00

Wednesday came sooner than I had hoped. I was dreading several things--all of which I knew I had struggled with and barely absorbed from Day 1. Now it was just going to be me and an instructor. No one else. No judging eyes. No peers to hold back or try to keep up with. No barking drills and demands. At least not from her. No, today will be different.

It was early in the morning so Matt decided it'd be best if we doubled on his bike in order to cut through traffic. The ride out made me feel a bit more confident as I started to get my mind ready for the hour ahead. One day, it'll feel this fun. Right now, I need more practice. I tried to give myself little pep talks to calm my raging nerves but nothing could dissolve the coagulation of fears building up inside my mind. I had to take in so much information from Sunday's lessons. Would I remember any of it? Or have I forgotten already? What is it going to feel like? What if...

"Don't worry, it's just going to be you and the instructor," my husband said aloud, interrupting my internal downward spiral. "And you get an entire hour to practice whatever you need. You'll do fine," he continued in his usual warm voice, reassuring me. "I'll see you later!" Off he went and I turned toward the building to head inside and meet my new instructor.

The slip said, "KEN" but the lady at the front desk said, "You'll be with Keith this morning." So I thought perhaps the drill sergeant wrote down the wrong name. Whatever. Ken, Keith, doesn't matter. Anyone but HER again.

"Josephine...?"

I turned to see a tallish man wearing a baseball cap standing in the lobby looking at me with a blank expression and dull eyes.

"Yep!" I tried my best to sound as eager as ever but inside I was cringing and felt sick, like I was about to crap my pants.

"Hi, looks like we'll be working on left and right hand turns today," he said in a semi-annoyed tone. You could at least pretend like you like your job I wanted to say aloud, but instead I just confirmed and said

"Yeah," while hesitating to add anything further. What I also wanted to say was I'm having a bit of trouble balancing. I'm also not confident starting and stopping or slowing down smoothly. I think I need to work on more basic things and let those sink in before I start turns again. But nothing came out of my mouth. I could sense he was already bored senseless at the idea of watching me practice turns. Practicing starts and stops for any amount of time would probably kill the man so there was no way I was going to bring up my poor sense of balance. That would only confirm his already low opinion of me.

"Ok, let's head outside," he said. We walked towards the area where I had spent Day 1 and the moment I saw it, all my nerves locked up again. Thankfully, we continued walking past and I realized that's not where I'd be having my lesson. He led me down to a separate open lot where there was no one and nothing but cones and of course, the machine. It was a black one this time.

Oh good. Nothing to remind me of Day 1. Immediately, I felt relief. It also helped that I would get to use my own helmet and gloves since I had them with me for the ride up with Matt. That's when I began to realize that any little thing which appeared familiar to me and that my brain didn't have to adjust to actually increased my comfort level. So now there was nothing that could really shake my confidence...except my own fears which were still lingering from Day 1. Stop thinking about Sunday. Today is just about building your confidence.

The hour began. I think I stalled about a handful of times and stopped all wobbly every other time. But tall dry man didn't seem to care about any of that. He critiqued me on my posture, on my wrist position, on relaxing (how do you relax when you're getting judged instead of taught?), on turning my head and looking at the cones, and on increasing my speed. So for the next 45 minutes I did my best to practice all of that as I turned and turned and turned, doing loops around a lot like a circus monkey, only I think a circus monkey would've done them better than me. Finally, just before the end of the hour, I felt comfortable enough to increase my speed a bit more or "roll on" as they say. Oh! That's how I make it all the way through the corner! I closed the throttle a fraction, holding it and then coming out of it, rolled on again.

"Good Josephine! That's it! One more lap!" said the tall dry man, this time nodding, smiling, and giving me two thumbs up.

YES!!! I was elated. I had the biggest grin on my face like a huge dork as I turned my last corner and brought the machine to a stop. It was over.

"I think you had a bit of a breakthrough in those last couple of laps, ay?" he said as we were walking back to the lobby.

"Yeah...it felt much better," I replied with a laugh of relief.

Back at the lobby reception desk, he began to open up a large binder and began scanning the week's schedule. "I think you just need another hour. Can you come back tomorrow?"

I nodded and it was settled. Then like clockwork, my self-badgering voice began. Oh my goodness, you're sooooo slow! You just spent an entire hour turning left! I had to shut it off before I let it completely squash my newfound joy from those last two laps.

"Ok, it looks like you'll be with Tony at 7am. See you tomorrow!" He handed me a slip with all the details and I waved goodbye.

Lessons in Learning (part 1)

2011-12-14T14:00:00.000+11:00

"Big week for little Jos." That's how my husband put it. I couldn't agree with him more. I'd been anticipating this week for a couple of months and now it's almost over. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But none of it has gone the way I had planned.

What are plans anyway? Scheduled ideas in our minds made up of events in a specific sequence. But plans don't always work out the way we want them to. What happens then? For some people, not much--they work around them. They're flexible. They can always adjust and sometimes make new ones. But if you're like me, things like disappointment, frustration, stress, and anxiety all start to settle in and you start to question why you even made plans in the first place.

You start wondering to yourself, Is this worth it? Should I even bother? Can I handle it? Did I really think this would happen? Why is this happening? Could I have avoided it? Is there a better way? Your mind begins to race, your heart pumps faster, and you tell yourself, forget it. I can't be bothered. It's too hard.

In my mind, I had planned for only two days this week. I calculated the hours beginning on Sunday and ending on Monday. And then, I thought to myself, by Wednesday I'll have it. My goal. This new thing that I've been wanting to have for so long. I've dreamt of doing this and wished I could learn how. I've been frightened and thrilled by it at the same time. But finally, the day is here. The moment I get to settle my fears and put myself to the test.

But Sunday came and after three hours, my entire confidence and excitement was blown to bits. The instructor was a 5 foot 1 inch nightmare and was what I would like to officially classify as a feral R6 biarch. The moment she introduced herself I knew she didn't want to be my friend. She made sure I knew, in case there was any doubt in my mind, that I was the idiot here to learn and she was the instructor. It was clear she wanted to establish herself before hand by telling us what kind of bike she rode, what kind of family she came from, and then made us feel like we were nothing but cheap citizens for only having to pay $80 for this 2-day course because if we were to sign up for private lessons, each hour would cost us $100. So I should be grateful for these 3 hours I'm getting because it's such a "good deal."

And so, the first 5 minutes of the course came as a shock to me. I was there to learn, but she was there to drill. Minute after minute, she barked multiple commands at us and pointed out mistakes. Mostly mine. It was me and two men who already had previous experience so guess who stood out like a sore thumb? I knew nothing. I was like a baby learning how to walk for the first time and she was instructing us as though she was a high ranking General in the U.S. Marines Corps.

Is this chick for real? Will she have any empathy or grace for me as I go through this massive learning curve? Isn't an instructor supposed to instruct? Couldn't she tell her methods with me weren't working? Couldn't I tell? No--I couldn't. I didn't even have the head space to recognize the injustice of it all because at the end of the day, I felt defeated, angry, and wanted to smash her face in. I've never felt so hostile towards anyone in my life but she was a different breed. A breed which reminded me of all the teachers I never liked in elementary school and therefore never did well in their classroom. The teachers who always made you feel that much more stupid for raising your hand because you didn't understand something. The teachers who rushed through lessons and pressured you for answers, knowing you'd stumble so that they could make an example out of you in front of the rest of the class. The teachers who thought their teaching style was so impeccable that it should suit everyone's learning style and never adjust to their students to understand or help them in other ways. The teachers you feared looking at because making eye contact with them made you feel like you were trouble for breathing. Those ones---the Miss Dowlings, the Mrs. Straders, and the Frans. Why is it always bloody women?

I love women. I believe we are the crown of all creation. There's so much beauty and grace to behold in us. There's a level of strength and vibrance that we carry and bring into this dark world. So where was her light? I wondered. Her eyes may have been blue, but they looked cold and cruel. She did not invite me into her world. She wanted me out. She wanted all of us out. Isn't that why she was talking so quickly and rushing through the exercises?

It's only now that I realize how poorly I react to this type of assortment. These women are often brash, rude, and self-seeking--constantly trying to prove something as evidence in their rough and straightforward behaviour. The average person having a bad day isn't nearly as irritable as these women are when they're being their usual selves. So when this type is placed in a position of authority, beware of getting mentally and emotionally pummelled. Any sort of insecurity you have is going to feel like it's out on display and she'll feed on you until and leave you with a dismembered confidence and shredded self-esteem.

So when I made a mistake (which I didn't think was a huge deal breaker) it came as no surprise to me when she called my name, pulled me aside, and recommended that I discontinue learning and sign up for private lessons instead. I was tense, sweaty, self-conscious, anxious, and upset. That's when I felt my fists clenching and wanted to deliver combination punches to her face Mike Tyson style. Who am I? Where was this coming from? What did this girl mean to me anyway?

Nothing. I had to stop and accept my shortcomings. And so, like a good student, I behaved, sat in the shade and watched silently as my peers continued with the course for the last 7 minutes and then it was over. After class, I had to go to the front desk to arrange new paperwork with the drill sergeant. She gave me a slip with all the details for my next lesson. I was to continue on Wednesday morning for private one-on-one tuition with one of the male instructors. Thank God it's not with you... I thought to myself, so relieved that I almost said it out loud. I think if her eyes could speak, they would have responded and said, Me too. And so, I bid her farewell and left for the day.

Of Money and Marriage

2011-12-08T11:49:00.001+11:00

A lot of married couples fight over money. They have separate bank accounts. They do the whole his and hers thing, operating independently in their finances while living under the same roof. But Matt and I never wanted to be one of those couples doesn't completely share their lives with one another.

Maybe people think it was easy for me to quit my job. Sure I had no problem saying goodbye to the corporate world with its perpetual politics and stress and I was excited to embark on a new adventure and pursue my writing career like I'd always dreamed--but saying goodbye to my income? Not so easy. Not that I was on a massive six figure salary or anything but when you're used to providing for yourself and having your own money, it comes as a harsh awakening when you realize it's all gone.

When you surrender the things which once provided you with a sense of stability or security, you're forced to come to terms with yourself as you are--you experience a day of reckoning. And when I left my job, I had to come to terms with how much time I'd been spending on trying to please others--my parents, my boss, my co-workers, my peers, my family. For years, I'd been striving to be successful (whatever that means), to gain respect and approval from peers, to be financially stable, and finally to be independent (of whom? God? as if!).

It's weird. There's like an unspoken (and sometimes spoken) pressure placed on women to pursue a career outside of the home. No doubt people look at me as a homemaker and secretly wonder, What the hell do you do? as if I bum around all day. As if I'm accountable to them with my time! Who are these people?? Maybe I'm making them up in my head but I don't think so. I can feel their judging eyes and critical whispers from around the corner.

I remember being asked by my manager, "What if you want to buy new shoes?" implying that if I didn't work, I'd have to ask my husband's permission to buy things I need. But it isn't like that at all. When you have established trust in your spouse, there's no need for questions, scrutiny, and selfishness. Marriage is this lovely realm of open communication, trust, and loyalty. When you're united as one, there's no more "his" and "hers" labels--there's just "ours." Shoe shopping is never an issue--but I can't say that's the case for other couples.

Being financially dependent on someone--in my case, my husband--isn't as easy as it sounds. It has taken a lot of time for me to adjust to being dependent. Forget about financially--just being dependent in general. As a woman, isn't it better to be independent? That's the message the world pushes at me anyway. So what's this about sharing the same bank account and finances? What's his is actually mine? What's mine is actually his?

At the start, I was feeling guilty for having access to all of his resources; for being able to put my name next to Matt's and share in everything at 100%. It's not something people often do because humans are so precious about their own money. They want to be identified with their money; they use it to establish their own reputation; they value themselves and others by the numbers in their bank accounts and stocks and the rate at which they increase. They are self-obsorbed and are eventually consumed by it. But there's no room for any of that in marriage.

Marriage is about a greater exchange. It is no wonder to me that it is representative of our relationship with our Creator. We need Him; we rely on Him; and He invites us into life with Him because He loves us and wants the best for us. Leaving my independence behind was one of the best things for me because I have been able to gain a newfound trust not only in my husband, but also in my Saviour Jesus Christ.

Oftentimes, people perceive dependence as a sign of weakness, and even the dictionary describes it in a few ways. The first three go like this: (1) the quality or state of being influenced or determined by or subject to another; (2) reliance, trust, and (3) one that is relied on. The thing is, I know I'm weak. I'm a human being with a spirit and flesh that battles it. I know I need the Lord to help me overcome the things in my life that need reckoning with. So isn't it great when the weak thing is subject to Someone who loves them and in whom they can rely and trust in? Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but I trust in the name of the Lord; for greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world.

Being a Homemaker

2011-12-07T11:01:00.000+11:00

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines a homemaker as "one who manages a household, especially as a wife and mother." Yep--that's me and I love it.

Staying at home isn't for everyone. A lot of women have no other choice but to work in order to survive or support themselves. I feel truly blessed to have a husband who provides for both of us and gives me the freedom to run my own show at home and do the things I want to do with my time.

Of course, I wasn't always so content. When I was single I had a completely different approach to life - find a good paying job and stick with it. I dabbled here and there wondering where the next job would take me. I wanted to travel. I wanted to write. I searched for opportunities to do both but none seemed to work out. And so I was eventually worn out--I needed to forget about personal passions, ambitions, and goals. I told myself I'd have plenty of time to weave those into my life later. For now, I needed to focus on getting up, getting noticed, and getting paid the big bucks. But who was I kidding?

I didn't want to do any of that. If it was up to me and I didn't have to work, I'd be sitting in the corner of a cafe completely immersed in classic literature all afternoon. I'd be writing and illustrating my own books full time. I'd meet the love of my life and get married. I'd leave America and live abroad somewhere to experience new adventures together. Then one year - this last year - all of my dreams came true.

Now as a homemaker, I manage our household just like Merriam-Webster says, as a wife and a mother. As a wife, you may agree but as a mother? Maybe not the kind of mother most people would assume I am, but most certainly the type that all women are called to. As one of my favourite authors once wrote:

We mother each other when we offer our concern, our care, our comfort...when we see a need and rise to meet it, whether it is a sweater for a friend who is chilly, a meal for a struggling family, or a listening ear for a friend who is hurting.

All women are called to mother. And all women are called to give birth. Women give birth to all kinds of things--to books, to churches, to movements...to ideas, to creative expressions, to ministries... A woman is not less of a woman because she is not a wife or has not physically borne a child. The heart and life of a woman is much more vast than that. All women are made in the image of God in that we bring forth life.

People often ask me, "Do you work?" and I reply, "No" but the truth is, I do work--it's just not the kind of work the person asking would expect. Looking back at all the jobs I've had since I was in high school, I'd have to say that being a homemaker has been one of my most favourite and I wouldn't exchange this career for anything else.

One Friday Last Month.

2011-12-06T09:03:00.000+11:00

It hurts to tell people what I'm passionate about. And when I say people, I mean these kind of people. I feel like it's pointless. Why waste my breath and cast pearls before swine? I'd rather tell someone who is interested and knows and is open and keen to learning more. Someone who genuinely wants to know details.

It's like God and us--He wants people to know Him, who He is--He has done so many things and has so many details to share and tell us--but it hurts Him when he tries to share it with those who don't seem to care or want to know anything He has to offer or say. Because we are like Him, made in His image, it's no surprise we function the same way or have similar reactions. What we have to say comes from the heart and reveals who we are. Knowing us, knowing one another--but most of all , knowing Him.

How's the book going? How's the weather? Two sugars or one?
Thanks for just killing all the joy I have about my book. People are as interested about my book as they are in the weatherman's forecast--they know it's coming and they want to know when it will pass. It's as though they all think it's some sort of phase I'm just going through. Like I'll eventually want to give it up and get back my corporate career or start having babies or just do something else other than write books. Like I said, it hurts.

People.

2011-12-05T22:27:00.001+11:00

What do you do? Are you just waiting for the next party?

There's too many people focused on following the path to being normal rather than the path that God has for them and wants to lead them to--the gifts, talents, and blessings. Too many people get busy about being normal. It's like God gave everyone a gem and they don't do anything with it. Instead, they follow the crowd.

What do people actually DO??? Socialize, talk shit, get in other people's way, chit chat about the weather and other shallow topics. Sometimes we talk about interests, funny things we like or do.

It's always been a struggle to not find people but to find a person. Someone who doesn't feel the need to enlighten me on global warming or other topics they have no clue about; someone who doesn't feel like they need to tell me about how many beers they drink; why the hell would I want to go out for drinks? So I can get a little tipsy and have a reason to be flirtatious with complete strangers?

But when you finally find a topic--something that sparks a genuine interest--the individual you once categorized as people suddenly becomes a person about it. They reveal more of who they are and the exchange begins. No more pretense. No more goss. No more knowledge sharing. No more general chit chat. No more boring.

KRS-One once said in a song, "All I really need is a friend." Everyone struggles with the same topic, but no one admits it.

The High Road

2011-12-02T22:50:00.000+11:00

Why is it that people say things in a correcting sort of tone while at the same time saying "there, there" in between the lines--an attempt to also comfort you in your frustration or time of venting. It's like they're trying to calm you down because you're all worked up about something. But the best thing they could do is just listen or laugh or relate to the situation you are sharing. Why do they always take the high road?? Everything is so loaded.

February to May Was a Sad Season

2011-11-23T00:16:00.001+11:00

My sister Cat got sick and was hospitalized.
My Uncle Boy had a stroke.
"May 21st Judgement Day" sparked drama with Mom and Dad.
Boxer, our family pet rabbit, died.
I couldn't breathe properly and Matt took me to the ER.
My Auntie Del was in and out of hospital for her cancer.
The other side of the family took my Uncle Moses off life support.

Pet Peeve #27: Wannabe Mexican food

2011-11-10T11:21:00.001+11:00

I should know better than to expect good quality Mexican food when the waitress says, "Here's your tor-tilllllas." She pronounced the Ls as though she was saying "umbrellas." Sorry love, but you aren't fooling anyone.

While the food was edible, there was plenty about it that just didn't add up to make the $88 bill worth it for two people. $88 for Mexican food is unheard of. In Mexico, that amount of money would feed a family of fifteen. And that was it--the moment we realized we'd had our fill of yet another Mexican restaurant FAIL in Australia.

It's no wonder why Aussies aren't big fans of Mexican food. They can't make it right in the first place. The spices are wrong, the textures are borderline stale, and the people serving up the dishes clearly don't have a clue about what they're serving. Why go out and pay high prices for hideous tasting food?

I make this point to friends and associates and they claim that there's this restaurant and that, as if I haven't already tried out every single one of them. No, no, and hell no--Guzman Y Gomez does not count as Mexican food. It's like saying Taco Bell is Mexican food. Sure they might have food that tastes good but don't think for a second you're partaking in Mexican cuisine.

Someday, someone will be brave enough to open up a restaurant that serves up the authentic flavours of Mexico and awaken the taste buds of Australians everywhere. Until then, don't bother trying to find it here because it just doesn't exist.

Pet Peeve #6: Netball

2011-11-09T13:02:00.001+11:00

Click here to read why.

Pet Peeve #4: When People Compare Books to Movies

2011-11-08T13:49:00.001+11:00

Twilight. Lord of the Rings. Harry Potter. Pride and Prejudice. Last time I checked, these were all original works of literature. Yes, BOOKS. Then they got big and Hollywood decided to cash in on the hype and popularity by turning them into films/motion pictures. Yes, MOVIES. So now they exist in two completely different art forms: literature and film.

As an English major at university, I was required to take a class on this exact topic and the course was called, "Film and Literature." Sure I learned a lot, but I don't consider myself an expert in film or literature just because I took a class. I didn't major in film. I don't know the complexities of how it all works. I only gained just enough understanding as to how literature is translated into films, the importance of editing, the approach used, and the angles directors take to create similar feelings that the reader may have experienced when reading the book. Sometimes they intentionally do not recreate scenes and instead they present an entirely different interpretation of the story. It all depends on the director and how they choose to tell the story.

But the debate continues. People love to hear themselves (and others) talk about which one is better--the book or the movie. They make comments like "Oh the books are so much better" or "Oh the movies just leave out so much of the story" and even try to give you a sense of their expertise by saying things like, "I don't understand how you could follow the story in the movies or how it could make sense if you haven't read the book." Excuse me, but since when did reading literature become a pre-requisite to appreciating film? Are they not completely different art forms? Why not appreciate both?

And while they go on bickering about the two subjects I remain astonished by the blaring sound of their apparent ignorance. I wonder whether they think authors who write fiction also maintain full-time careers as screenwriters. Perhaps they also think screenwriters are the same as playwrights. And maybe they think that when films are made, the author who wrote the original work is on location 24/7 during the shoot, critiquing every scene saying, "No, that's not right, because on page 78 he's actually thinking this and she's not supposed to be standing there" but they're not. That's someone else's full-time career--they're called script supervisors.

Dear, oh, dear. Everyone's an expert these days. They read. They watch. They do it often enough and then tell you their opinions which you should accept as fact because they've read all the books and watched all the movies and know everything there is to know about Pride and Prejudice. But they know nothing about film to understand why the story must be cut down, changed, and shifted to accommodate the new art form. They purchase movie tickets, munch popcorn, sip soda, sit on their bums, and become spectators of a work of art that took months and often years of full-throttle production planning, filming, and editing, with hundreds of people involved to bring it to life. Two or so hours later, they walk out of the theatre just as ignorantly as they walked in it, saying things like, "I like the books better" and "It didn't do the book justice."

I don't get why people expect film to match literature line for line. If movies were made to be exact replicas of books, you'd never want to see a movie based on a book again because it would be over eight hours long and you'd be bored to tears. Reading books and watching films based on the same story doesn't make you an expert on film and literature. It just means you like the story. If you didn't, you wouldn't bother watching the film because you'd be so obsessed with how the story is in the book that you wouldn't want anything to ruin the interpretation you had. But you'll insist on seeing the film because it's the story that you've come to love, not film. So enough with the complaints about film. Next time you finish a book that took you a week to read, imagine trying to convert all of that goodness into a two hour time slot and then maybe, just maybe, you'll stop giving the film version a bad rep.

Child of God

2011-11-07T14:14:00.001+11:00

Every day last week was just a countdown to Sunday--the day we got to see our nephew Kai. He's only been out of the womb for three months and each time we see him, he's changed just a fraction. He was sporting the fresh kicks we bought a while ago. Man, he's growing fast.

Matt often likes to take side by side shots to compare Kai's size to that of a grown adult. They make us laugh every time. How small is he??? It's photos like these that always remind me of how small I am compared to God. I mean, this is just a human to human comparison of adult to child and it's shocking enough. So when the God of the universe who created all things tells me I am one of His children, I am His child, I completely trip out. Who am I to have been given a heavenly Father?

I can't comprehend it. If I think about it too long, my brain feels like it's going to pop. It's too crazy for me to try and grasp and I doubt I'll ever really be able to. That's why it's funny to me when I think of people who get all high and mighty about themselves. I wonder if they think they made themselves. They got into this world all on their own. They got themselves out of their mother's womb. They had the ability to conceive themselves and knew exactly which sperm was going to fertilize the egg to bring them into existence. But try confronting them on this topic and you'll get responses like, "That's just how Mother Nature works" and "Isn't Mother Nature clever?" and they'll continue give credit to a personification of nature rather than the person who made all nature and calls Himself the Creator.

It's funny how often we humans marvel at one another and how little we marvel at the One in whose image we are made, the One who gives us life, and the One who sustains it. Like a child, I want to know more and more about Him. My whole life depends on Him. I rely on Him and can do nothing without Him. He is the One who knows me best. He feeds me when I'm hungry. He gives me strength when I am weak. He knows my needs and always provides. He warns, defends, and protects me. He leads and nurtures me. It is no wonder He calls himself the Father for He has been with me since my beginning and He will remain with me forevermore.

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me

were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,

They would outnumber the grains of sand.

When I awake,

I am still with you.

Psalm 139:13-18

2011 Pet Peeves

2011-11-02T00:23:00.003+11:00

"Top knots" or what I refer to as gym hair
Screaming, undisciplined children at quiet cafes and restaurants
Tight jeans on men
When people compare books to movies
Getting asked, "Are you on Facebook?"
Netball
Conspiracy theories
Harold Camping's doomsday predictions
Aussie hiphop
Chinese food
Not being invited to family functions
People who assume and their sideways glances
The dude who only comes in to the gym to do a massive dump
Smokers
Sydney fashion
Buddhism
Yoga, pilates, and Lulu Lemon
Crowds
People talking about America who have never been there
Pervs
Cockroaches
Spiders
Hemmys
The Department of Immigration
Inappropriate clothing styles at formal functions
Motard/dirtbike riders and Harley Davidsons
Wannabe Mexican food
Lady Gaga
Jay-Z and Kanye
"glee"
Boring shoe designs
Tattoos
The Northern Beaches
Preachers
When people mistakenly associate Banksy with graffiti
Catholicism
Customer service (lack thereof) in Australia
Speaking in tongues
Hillsong
The way George tastes food on Masterchef
Katie
Melbourne Cup
When my favourite cafes get renovated and lose all their original charm
iPhones and their owners
One-way conversationalists
Rudeness
Pride
Idolatry
Belly fat and ursula (back fat)
When the scale doesn't change after weeks of dieting and working out

A real role

2011-10-27T15:35:00.003+11:00

A woman in the presence of a good man, a real man, loves being a woman. His strength allows her feminine heart to flourish. His pursuit draws out her beauty.
And a man in the presence of a real woman loves being a man. Her beauty arouses him to play the man, it draws out his strength. She inspires him to be a hero.
Would that we were all so fortunate.
Excerpt from Captivating by John & Stasi Eldredge

The words above resonate with me because I know them to be true in my own life. I never thought I would find so much contentment and joy in being a wife--but even more than that, in being a woman.

Triggers

2011-10-25T13:39:00.004+11:00

It happened the moment the man on the screen opened his mouth and said, "I'm a god...we're all gods and goddesses." Instantly, my heart was full of rage. I felt hot and furious. I looked at the man with complete disgust and wondered what, if anything, did he have to offer in the next 20 minutes that would impart any ounce of wisdom. Every word that followed made me feel sick. That's enough. It hurts. Make it stop.

What was that? It was new. Just when I thought I'd learned all my trigger points here was yet another--conspiracy theories. I hate them. With a passion. I don't give a crap about them and I could care less about who says what about this or that and what symbols represent this evil thing and why. What does this knowledge have to do with me? What is it adding to my life? How does any of it lead me to knowing more of the truth? There is evil in the world. I don't need to dive deeper into knowing the inner workings and methods behind it. It's one thing to remain aware and alert of the enemy's plots and quite another to be in pursuit of it.

What good is there in knowing more about it? It is knowledge which distracts from me from knowing more about my Saviour. It doesn't point me to Him--it points me in the opposite direction. It doesn't create wonder and excitement about Jesus; it creates curiosity and intrigue for His enemy. Studying and researching conspiracy theories is no different than following celebrities and buying magazines to learning about who is dating who and which couples are getting divorced and whose kids are fashionably dressed and which diets worked best for burning off her pregnancy weight and who is going to rehab and what stars were the best/worst dressed of the year. WHO EFFING CARES???

But people do. That's why they sell in the first place right? Stupid, ridiculous people out there buy this crap and fill their heads with extreme ideals. Monthly, weekly, sometimes daily--they follow until they become obsessed and it's all they ever really talk about--their idols. Maybe my frustration has more to do with idolatry. Positioning something above or before Jesus. Investing time and energy into things other than Him. An extreme version would be positioning one's self as equal to Him. And that's what the man on the video was doing--making himself equal to my Lord.

I hate idolatry.

"No...I don't go to church"

2011-10-23T14:41:00.000+11:00

My answer comes as a shock to most people. Is that because being a Christian automatically means I go to church? Is that what being a Christian is all about?

To most of the world, being Christian means being a church goer and a regular tither; it means you cheer wildly for Jesus because the worship leader just compared your applause to the way you cheer on your favourite athletes at sporting events; it means you stand, sit, and meet and greet when you're told or you'll get greasy looks from the couple sitting across the aisle; it means you should know how to speak in tongues even though you've never wanted to because it scares you; it means you have to pray before every meal or else the food is not blessed; it means you get tattoos of Scripture references inked all over your body; it means you Christianize any new, hot trend in the world and sell the merchandise at Christian book stores; it means when you are wrestling with marital issues you seek the wisdom of your pastor, mentor, or accountability friends first; it means you're allowed to judge other people inwardly, but lay your hands on them externally and pray for them; it means you invite everyone you know to church because this Sunday, the head pastor is coming to do a special service which means the Spirit will definitely be there and something incredible is going to happen.

Before church existed, I didn't know it was possible for people to book in the Holy Spirit for a day. Maybe church can show me how to do that. Yet, this is a very real scenario similar to the ones above; they so accurately describe the common trend my husband and I refer to as "church styles." We haven't always been so anti-attending church, but over the past year, we've been more than happy to steer clear of these western trends, abandon the hype, and simply draw closer to our Saviour and His Word. And so it begs the question, why?

While the question is simple, it's a loaded one to answer. For years I've had such a blessed life--growing up in a Christian home, attending Christian schools, and maintaining Christian friendships. But now I am completely set apart from it, living abroad in a new environment, new friends and new family, none of whom have known the truth and love of Jesus. It's exciting for me, and I've seen the hand of God at work so many times, enabling me to share His love and develop a boldness and comfort I used to lack.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I get these ones from people who worry that I'm somehow not saved anymore because I don't go to church. But these are often the same people with whom it is the most difficult to get real with. They are slow and tongue-tied when it starts to get raw and relevant. They struggle to talk about our Saviour and how they've seen Him at work in their lives. It's as though they don't know Jesus or have any relationship with Him. But ask them about church and their eyes light up--they're quick to tell you all about the weekly activities, how to get involved, how they are expanding, what areas they serve in, and how blessed and Spirit-filled their head pastor is. Why talk about Jesus when you can talk about church?

Churches these days put so much effort into offering something fresh and different, apart from the Word. They market themselves as a "community" or "fellowship" to become a part of. They aim to recruit you. Just the other week, I was out with Matt painting with friends, both believers and unbelievers when one of the Christian dudes (who knew we were Christians) started bragging to us about his church. He told us all about how great and fun it is, what they do there, why we should check it out, and why we'd like it--the thing is, it wasn't an invitation. It was a sales pitch and he wanted to close out a deal. It was like he couldn't quite understand how we could be Christians and not go to church, like we needed some extra salvation insurance and his church could provide that. I wondered--if he's this pushy to fellow believers, what's he like with unbelievers?

At what point did the church feel the need to become cool and trendy? It's as though they thought to themselves, "Hmmm the gospel message is getting a bit dull and boring. What else can we do to attract people?" So churches around the world started to spice things up. Now general announcements are produced like Hollywood movie trailers. Worship is nothing short of a rock concert. Pastors sound more like motivational speakers offering inspirational words of wisdom from personal experience. Messages leave you feeling pumped about reaching out and getting involved. Suddenly, church is exciting--not truth, not Jesus, but church. Is the Bible not good enough for Christians anymore? Is that what Jesus came to do--invite people to church so they can have fun fellowship with each other?

The reality is, Jesus was always inviting people to Himself. He is more than enough for me. He is my everything. But church always had a way of making me feel like I needed more. That I required man's wisdom and guidance--a pastor, a spiritual leader, a mentor, and an accountability partner. But isn't that why He gave me the Holy Spirit--so that He could reveal things to me directly? So that He himself can dwell in me and empower me to be a light in this dark world? As believers, we're all called to go out--where to, how far, and to whom all varies person to person. To me, the great commission doesn't only apply to the odd missionary who's supported by a local church. It applies to every person sitting in that building reading updates on that missionary. In Matthew 28, Jesus doesn't say "go and invite nations to church" for a good reason.

When I read the gospels, I don't find Jesus kicking it with his disciples in the synagogues 24/7; He's regularly mingling with commoners and society's outcasts, individuals who were shamed and judged by religious leaders. Other times Jesus was alone catching up one on one with the Father. But mostly, He was out and about serving others, meeting people where they were at, and fulfilling their needs. Is this what the churches are about today?

It is my personal desire to become more like Jesus every day. It's too easy for me to follow the trends of this world and even the trends of the church. I get distracted by material things, by the media, by people's expectations, by social gatherings, and by spiritual activities--but none of those things can offer me the wholeness and love I need to get through life. Only Jesus can do that. He affirms me of who I am and gives me the renewed strength and confidence I need to extend love, forgiveness, and grace so that others can come to know Him and receive His truth. Why don't I go to church? Because to Jesus, I'm already a part of His eternal one.

Packing, PMS, and pondering life

2011-10-14T15:52:00.000+11:00

It's almost 10PM on Friday night and I've left research and packing to the very last minute. What's worse is that after some harmless channel surfing, I discovered a feature Friday night movie on channel 9 called "My Sister's Keeper" and now I'm a total mess in tears.

Scenes of a little girl going through chemotherapy just break my heart. Watching her suffer through it and then seeing how her family copes with the burden hits home for me. I think of my own sister Mare and how she was once a little girl who went through chemotherapy and endured years of her own pain and struggles with psoriasis.

Cat and I grew up like the siblings in this movie--ready to help and always scared, wondering whether our sister was going to make it through the next bout of flare ups with her skin condition. It's hard to watch your sister hurt. It's only now that I understand a fraction of what it must have felt like for my Mom and Dad all those years when it got really bad. The nation's best doctors and dermatology specialists were stunned at her, not knowing how to treat the intensity of her skin condition as it was a rare case. She became a focal point in the psoriasis community--a research patient. Thankfully, my parents could turn to Someone greater and put their trust in Him to give the doctors wisdom to discover a treatment. Our Saviour's promises haven't failed and He continues to sustain my sister's health today.

I'm 30 and here I am, crying like a little girl. Watching this movie is torture but for some reason, I don't really want to stop because in a way, it's therapeutic. Near the end of the movie, there's a scene where friends of the family are offering up all sorts of useless advice like "think positively" or "speak to your cancer cells" and the girl received their empty words of attempted comfort, welcomed them, smiled and nodded. But all the while, you and her family know that this is it--yet she remains poised with a calm strength and confidence. She was prepared to let go of life. She was ready.

Today I had to purchase a single ride bus ticket because I accidentally left my pre-paid one at home. After clearing out my pockets and preparing to pack my jacket, I noticed the back of the ticket. Printed in bold black ink was the message, "NO RIDES LEFT." Talk about relevant. The moment I saw it, I couldn't help but think--this is it for me on this earth. We all get one chance to live in this state and that's it. The journey continues, but where and how that happens isn't any of my business to sort out. It's all about what's happening right now and what I'm doing with the one ride that I have. And right now, I can say with all confidence that I'm ready for that day to come, whenever it may be.

What do I wear to the MotoGP?

2011-10-13T23:59:00.000+11:00

If you've been following The Lockdown, you know that I'm all hyped up and getting ready to fly down and meet Matt at Phillip Island for the MotoGP. I am stressing about what to pack because the weather in Victoria is unpredictable and I am only to bring a backpack and a helmet since my main mode of transportation once there is Matt's CBR1000.

So I jumped on Google and typed in "fashion at MotoGP" to see if the world wide web could offer up a range of styles to inspire me while planning a series of outfits that met three criteria: (1) cute, (2) comfortable, and (3) compact. To my surprise, the first link at the top of the search results was a blogger's post titled, "There is no fashion at MotoGP" and it could not have been more apropos. Her story gave me some comfort knowing that being posh at the MotoGP isn't required.

Before Matt left for his big ride, he went to the city to purchase me my own set of wet weather gear (the kind he wears while riding his sportbike in the rain). It's not the cutest looking outfit, but it's definitely waterproof and that's what counts. What a thoughtful guy! I know in the long run, I'd rather be dry than drenched and freezing like the blogger I just read about. I could learn a big lesson from her.

So today I did all the necessary things--bought travel-sized toiletries, a compact umbrella, and two $5 tank tops to layer under my tops which are still TBD. Packing for this particular trip has become a challenge because I need to (1) pack outfits that cater to unpredictable weather, (2) pack enough for all three days, (3) fit everything into one backpack, (4) find a hairstyle that is flexible to all outfits and a motorbike helmet.

Gosh! It's rough being a girl sometimes. Don't laugh! (laughing while I'm typing this)

I'll keep you posted...

Kids?

2011-10-06T03:00:00.000+11:00

Why does it bother me so much when people approach us on the subject of kids? Don't get me wrong--I love children, especially babies. Oh sweet babies, I love them to pieces. But I can't say this anymore--at least not now that I'm married. Something's changed. All of a sudden, saying that I love babies doesn't just mean I love babies--it somehow mistranslates to people's ears as "I want to create my own babies" which is an entirely different matter.

I've lost count of the number of times Matt and I have been asked about when we're planning to have kids or been teased about "being next." It's like some sort of diseased topic I'll never become immune to. It reminds me of when I was single and people would ask if I was dating or seeing anyone. Or when I was finally dating someone, people would ask when I was going to get married. And when I was engaged, people would ask about the wedding. And after the wedding, people would ask where I'm going to live. And after discovering where I've chosen to settle down, people now ask about kids.

Maybe it makes me uncomfortable because the answer to their question isn't for me to answer. The reality is that most people like to think of themselves as the highest authority. They make their own lives "happen" the way they choose. To have a baby, to not have a baby. They believe it's their right to choose when and where and why. Sometimes, they even believe they can determine the exact gender. They are their own gods. They believe they are the ones creating a new life. Therefore, they approach and consult me as the highest authority on a subject which they consider in my control; but they fail to see that it is something that it so completely out of my control. Birth control is nothing more to me but an oxymoron.

Am I the one responsible for making choices which will lead to becoming pregnant or not? Sure, I've been given a brain for understanding the human body and how it works to reproduce; I've been provided with a world of resources to help me manage; I've been given free will. But do I have the ability to lead the one in a million (literally) sperm to penetrate through the wall of one of my eggs at just the right time to fertilize it within a 24 hour time limit and begin conception, carry it through to full term, and give birth after 9 months?

Frick...don't ask me. I don't make babies.

Year One

2011-10-05T16:40:00.000+11:00

"The first year's the hardest"
That's what people say;
But I don't relate to
All those people and their ways;

They say I must be stuck in
Some honeymoon-type phase
Assuring me I'll grow from it
And find it's not that great;

But honestly, is it just me
Or is it just their test?
Each day I get to spend with him
Gets better with the next!

I feel at home, my heart's at ease
So full and so complete;
I'm all done, I can stop striving
I now know the real me;

I don't know what to say except
That I feel truly spoiled
The man my Saviour gave me
Is so loving and so loyal;

Perceptive and inquisitive
He helps me when I'm weak
He's humble, listens patiently
That's why he's known as "Meak";

I have no fears when he's with me
My confidence soars high
He tells me I'm so pretty
Even when no one's nearby;

We go on trips to see the sites
We ride two-up on motorbike;
It's fast but I hold on real tight
And my screams bring him great delight;

Mornings are full of hide and seek
Coffees and shows after night tea;
If this year's the hardest
The next one's a breeze--
I can't wait for more years
Of him with me.

Hello again

2011-10-05T16:24:00.000+11:00

Yes, after a short-lived stint on WordPress, I've returned to my first blog-hosting love...Blogger. I don't know where I went wrong. I think I was starting to become a blog slut--starting up new blogs everywhere from Tumblr to WordPress. I'm so sorry I left you in the first place, but now I'm back and happy as ever.

To celebrate my own return, I will re-post the one poem which made it onto WordPress (a blog which I've now deleted).

It's been fun

2011-09-21T12:03:00.000+10:00

I've been looking around for some cleaner platforms for my blog and after some research, I've decided to relocate my thoughts onto WordPress. I'll still keep the Lockdown active here but as for the coin wash, it will continue on at thecoinwash.wordpress.com.

It's been a good run. So long for now and catch you all on WordPress!

xoxo

Jos

Spring has arrived!

2011-09-08T14:35:00.000+10:00

With the changing of the seasons here in Australia, I am compelled to change up many things in my life these coming months and to document the journey herein. More ridiculous thought, disturbing observations, and refreshing perspectives to come. And so, it is with great pleasure that I unveil to you the new layout of THE COIN WASH!

Expectation

2011-08-22T12:10:00.000+10:00

When I hear this word, I tend to associate it with other words like demand, desire, frustration, and disappointment. But why?

Perhaps because this word is often associated with people and the desires they have, the results they are seeking, usually from another person and sometimes even from a material thing. Expectation is such a relevant word for me right now. When I consider my present circumstance, the people around me and their situations, I can't help but face this heavy reality.

What are our expectations and who do we expect to receive them from? Oftentimes, they are things outside of our immediate control, which is why we expect in the first place, right? Because we did all we can or we're doing all we can that is within our area of limit and so we expect a specific outcome to follow. In January this year, Matt and I lodged our partner visa application to the Department of Immigration but so far, we've heard nothing about our case. Our expectation is to have been granted the visa by now, but it's been eight months and we haven't received any news about it. Our expectation is from the Department of Immigration.

I have loved ones--both family and friends, who are all trying to start their own family and have children. They do what it takes to conceive with the expectation of getting pregnant. Their expectation is from a pregnancy test, a blood test, and sometimes even a doctor. I have loved ones who are looking for new careers. They are qualified, they are connected, they are capable, shining candidates applying for different jobs. Their expectation is from a new employer. I exercise six days a week and eat right in order to lose weight and have a healthier body. My expectation is from a scale. Is it just me or is there a pattern?

Why do we as people, hand over our expectations to other people or even inanimate objects? Is it because that is where our hope exists? We have expectation for something, from someone (and sometimes from some object). But if we continue to live this way, we will never be content and we will never have real peace. When our expectation is in the right place, however, then we will know what it is to be content. Strife and anxiety can be exchanged for fulfilment and rest.

I am challenged to imitate David in Psalm 62:5. He has a one-on-one with his soul and tells it to "wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from Him." David has to verbally encourage himself to wait silently. I don't know too many people who wait in such a manner these days. People are the opposite of silent when waiting. We are fussy. We get busy. We whine and complain. We do whatever is within our power to make the waiting period seem anything BUT silent.

And then to wait silently for what? An answer? A result? "For God alone"--those three consecutive words pack a punch. How often do we leave Him out? And with all the resources we have in this present day, how easy is it for us to find an immediate answer? We Google it, read books, seek out authorities, research experts, listen to pastors or studies, ask friends and talk to people we respect. We are far from being silent waiters for God alone.

So what inspires David to wait silently for God alone? How does he do it? For him, it is simple--the answer can only come from same person from whom he has expectation. He reasons in the second part of the verse that his expectation is from God and therefore, He is the only one who can provide the answer. It's only now that I'm realizing how much expectation and contentment go hand in hand--they must exist in the same person, in the same being; for by displacing one, you cause a void in the other.

To recognize my expectations is one thing; but to realize I've been displacing them is quite another. To then shift these desires accordingly and live my life, fully dependent on God alone because my expectation is from Him is a conversation which I, too, will need to have on a regular basis with my own soul.

Dear Mom and Dad

2011-06-30T11:00:00.000+10:00

"Sunday best"

2011-06-20T14:41:00.000+10:00

Sweetie, are you lost?
We're celebrating a marriage,
not Dia de los Muertos.

Is it just me? Did I turn 30 and suddenly become...I don't know, a prude? I recently attended a friend's wedding which was held inside a gorgeous mansion in the middle of rural farmlands on a crispy winter afternoon. No doubt that 99.9% of the guests in attendance were church going Christian loving people. And yet, 79.9% of the women were dressed like they'd just gone clubbing (or were planning to).

Since when did it become the social norm to wear tight black leather mini skirts and platform heels to a wedding? I know it's not just something they threw on at the last minute. Women are hardly that stupid when it comes to dressing up for special occasions. Even I was out the day before shopping for a suitable dress because all of mine were completely inappropriate for an intimate, winter wedding.

So what was their mental process? Outfits like the ones I saw don't just happen out of nowhere. I wanted to know at what point it crossed these women's minds that their outfits were OK. When did they become convinced that clothing which exposed thighs and boobs were suitable for weddings?

As women, we know the level of effort it takes to look classy and lovely at the same time. We know which pieces of our wardrobes have the capacity to attract certain levels of attention and we deliberately choose to either wear them one way, pair them with something else, or save them for an entirely private occasion.

But these women--these who call themselves the youth leaders, pastors, and wives of pastors--there they were prancing around in their mini skirts and low slung dresses for all to behold. I couldn't help but wonder, what happened? Is class going out of fashion?

Somewhere in their minds, they were able to justify something. Their definition of what beauty is has been altered. It was obvious they had consciously made an exchange for something else. Whatever that lowest common denominator was, whatever they could "get away with" wearing, that thing, that level--it is where I believe the exchange occurred.

At the end of the day, it made me sad. I felt a level of embarrassment for them. I knew that if this was obvious to me, then it was obvious to others as well. When a fool walks into a room, it's difficult to ignore. But when the room is full of fools, does they become less obvious? No--in fact the attention becomes concentrated on the group as a whole.

They talked about their involvement in church and they talked about their ministries, but they looked like crusty little sluts. Oh dear women of God, how are you setting yourselves apart from the world? Why can no one tell the difference between you and the next woman except that we know to find you at Bible studies mid-week and church on the weekends? Or are you ever only dressed in what you think is Sunday best?

Not in Kansas anymore

2011-06-15T19:11:00.000+10:00

It's been happening in stages. Split-second moments where reality strikes and I tell myself where I am all over again. Or, something else tells me.

Today, a typical Sydney thunderstorm was blowing raindrops sideways as gusty winds wildly pushed our porch shutters back and forth making a loud clapping noise outside. I thought to myself, what could be more fun right now than to watch a Jane Austen flick and curl up on the couch with a hot cup of tea? I turned on the telly, I turned on the Playstation, I sat back on the couch, remote controls ready in hand to adjust the volume and press play. And then, it happened.

"This disc cannot be played. The region code is not correct."

It was like a strange sort of reality check. I sat there for a full minute, disturbed at the screen, knowing there was nothing I could do to convert the coding on my American dvd. Bye Jane Austen.

I go to bake and it happens again. Fahrenheit to celsius, cups to grams, liquids measured in millilitres. It all starts to get so complicated and suddenly, baking chewy oatmeal chocolate chip cookies becomes a personal challenge.

Converting inches to centimetres, miles to kilometres, filing Australian taxes, dealing with the Department of Immigration, riding buses, taking taxis, maintaining virtual friendships and virtual family, celebrating national occasions like the Queen's birthday, struggling to shop locally due to small dress sizes, watching evening news which only seems to cover the trending polls on people's dissatisfaction with PM Julia Gillard, the latest rugby player scandal, or Kate Middleton's latest outfit.

English speaking country or not, it's bizarre living abroad. I feel like my mind is caught in between two worlds, like I've lost it somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. On one end continues the remains of my former life and on the other, current reality.

So how much of the past am I allowed to let go of? And how much of what's current is really worth investing in? Is any of this concrete and eternal? Isn't life on this earth simply temporary--a phase through which we pass through? Why do people think they can just ask me questions about my future like I know what's supposed to happen next? Since when did life become so dull and linear?

I know too many people like that. People who plan out every detail of their lives, disregard their Creator, and shove Him into a box where He must comply with their demands and meet their expectations within a specific timeframe. It's all so very ugly to watch until their worlds turn upside down and suddenly, they're stuck. They wake up everyday to their past. Like Lot's wife, they're constantly looking back, holding on to what was, and wondering--what happened there? how come this? why not that? if only he or she... And they get busy trying to fix everything and everyone around them instead of doing what God has put in front of their faces.

I've been guilty of this lately. I find a thousand things to preoccupy my time--tasks to control and allow me to easily navigate through during the day. I plan meals for the week, run errands, write emails, schedule appointments, vacuum, iron, do laundry, make the bed. It all adds up doesn't it--but to what? Little accomplishments? But what am I supposed to be doing?

Finishing the task set before me. I need to complete a project my Creator has started in me and I need to complete it for Him without distraction. Not that chores or catching up with friends are bad things. They just shouldn't be number one. I reckon God knew that when He made the way for me to be here. This many thousands of miles away from everything I know. To finish the work He has started.

He knows me so well. He knows the only way I would ever be able to do this task is by removing all distractions from me. And so He has me right where He wants me to be. I'm ok with not being in America for now, for this is my purpose and this is my goal--to finish the book. And then we'll see where He leads me next.

Your new tattoo

2011-05-31T12:58:00.001+10:00

What do you want me to say
That I love it?
That I think it's cool and artsy?
To go "ooooo" and "ahhhhh" at it
And ask whether or not it hurt

Want me to make shallow chitchat
And hesitantly make hints like
"Oh wow, so you really did it get it"
Hoping you can read between
my lines?

What do you think
a scantily clad sailor girl
communicates to me
as a woman?
As your daughter-in-law?

Do you really want
a piece of my heart?
Do you really want to know
what sort of craziness
goes on in my head
when I see images
of women dressed
like that?

And now I have to hear
about your choice to get
it done;
And now I have to see
it inked forever on your arm;
And now I have to be
reminded of the female prototype
that men like you
fantasize about;
And then I have to wonder
why your wife
is not enough?

Do you really want
a piece of my heart?
I don't think you
can handle it but
the next time I see you
I dare you to ask
me what I think
about
your new
tattoo.

Being adult

2011-05-25T17:21:00.000+10:00

It seems to me that as people get older, we tend to forget what life was like as a child. Going through some old photo albums today allowed me experience glimpses of my childhood. A fond memory came over me as I saw a picture which had our family piano in it, and on top, you can just barely see a few framed photos--one of my sister Mare and another of my sister Cat. I remember staring at these photos each time I'd sit there to play the piano and I'd think to myself, "I have really pretty sisters." I'd sit there often to play and sing and stare at their faces in those frames, wondering what it was like to be pretty and grown up.

There's pictures of my parents with their friends; casual snaps at the various baby showers they had for my mom. A photo of my dad in the backyard barbecuing something delicious. And me, a faceless bump attached to my mom's body. That must have been where I first loved the taste of anything barbecued.

Anyway, not to get all nostalgic...the point is, I was looking at these photos thinking to myself, it's probably strange being grown up, watching things and people grow up around you. As an adult, it's crazy how quickly life moves on, times flies, and all those hundreds of catch phrases people tend to say as they get older. I look at myself in these photos and wonder, "Who was I back then? What was going through that girl's mind?"

How long has it been? Have I completely forgotten what it's like to be a child? Each time I think this, I can't help but want to say to all those mothers out there who bring their small children to cafes, "Yep! You've definitely forgotten!"

Ok, before you go lynching me for criticizing mothers who do this (because I have no experience in being a mother) may I just say there is a stark difference between bringing a small child to a quiet cafe and bringing that same child to Disneyland or Chuck E. Cheese's.

It's as if these parents have forgotten what it's like to be a kid. Why? Perhaps because it's been sooooooo many years since they themselves have been kids. Seriously--since when do toddlers like quiet little cramped rooms with live jazz and sipping on cappuccinos? Or when have babies asked to chill outside for breakfast near tables of loud strangers laughing and smoking? Why do these mothers continue to bring them there??

I oftentimes find myself staring at these parents, and wondering if they can read the message scrolling inside my head which says over and over, "Yes, I'm staring at you because you're an idiot and if your child was old enough to speak, he'd say the same thing." Poor kids. They're usually innocent victims in these situations, having no idea of the distraction and drama they are causing. Their idiot parents insist on bringing an entire entourage for this little itty-bitty person. Massive stroller, huge bags, dozens of toys, snack packs, bottles, pacifiers, books, blankets, extra clothes...it's a bit overkill, don't you think?

That's my rant on stupid parents my age (sometimes older). I wish they'd stop boring their kids to death. No wonder they're all wild and hypo. They're trying to say, "Get me the heck out of here!!" I think all these thoughts are coming up because in August, I will be Auntie Jos for the first time in my life. My husband's sister is pregnant and is waiting until the time of birth to find out whether or not it's a boy or girl. I probably am just trying to prepare myself for not being a horribly boring aunt to this child. One thing's for sure, we won't be drinking coffee together anytime soon.

Dear Mom and Dad

2011-05-24T13:16:00.000+10:00

It's May 24th over here in Australia and I haven't heard a peep from you. Why? Where are you?

Perhaps wondering what to do with all the May 21st propaganda. Perhaps thinking to yourself, "Oh boy..." and shaking your head as you carefully peel off those black and white Judgement Day bumper stickers from your cars and wiping it down clean leaving behind no sticky evidence. Perhaps searching the Scriptures for some fault or mistake in calculation. Perhaps wondering whether or not God is real. Perhaps pulling out the emails from your kids over the years or the more recent one from your son asking questions and challenging Harold Camping's teachings.

Or perhaps you are sitting there silent because you are awaiting a response from your one leader, Harold. He has not spoken publicly yet, so neither will you. Is that how it goes? You want to see how he answers first? Have his words guide your own?

And when I hear from you, will it be a tone of remorse and humility? Perhaps even apologetic? Or will it be another explanation or reasoning? A shrug of the shoulders. A look of wonder. A look of shock. A heavy sigh.

At the end of the day, I suppose it's not about what you have to say to me or any of your children. What have you to say to God?

My bday continues!

2011-05-14T11:48:00.000+10:00

Today is bright and beautiful here in Sydney. Matt and I are 99% recovered from our autumn sniffles so we're off to Luna Park!

30 confessions at 30

2011-05-13T01:14:00.000+10:00

The only person who can tell me who I am is Jesus.
I have learned to make the distinction between my love for Jesus and my love for my parents.
I've found that what people do for me is often an extension of what they want for themselves.
My most genuine friendships are deep and never feel like a burden.
I know too many people who mistakenly equate concern and worry with love.
When in doubt, I've learned to seek God's advice first. When I fail to do so, my husband gently reminds me.
Clarity comes when I stop trying to live up to everyone's expectations.
It's never too late to start doing the things God has put on my heart.
No one ever told me that peer pressure carries on into adulthood.
Being content has everything to do with where I'm at with Jesus.
The best testimony I can share with others is to live out Jesus in my every day life.
I never want to lose the wonder of being a child.
I've noticed how the ugliest human behaviours are always rooted in selfishness and pride.
It makes me sad to see how often mankind complicates the simple message of Christ.
The more I learn about the traditions and customs of this world, the more I want to know what God says about them.
I never want to let my own thoughts or the thoughts of others get in the way of what God is saying to me.
I never have to experience loneliness because I have Jesus.
My relationship with Jesus is personal and unique--so is my husband's relationship with Jesus, so is my relationship with my husband, and so is our marriage.
I didn't know marriage was going to be this much fun!
It is my dream come true to be living in Australia.
Every time I have tried to plan out my next season in life, God has been right there, directing my steps toward a completely new direction.
I have no doubt now that men actually do prefer curves.
I never knew I would be into MotoGP.
One of the best things about being married to a graphic designer is being constantly inspired to create.
When you fully love someone, you fully trust them. And where trust is, there is confidence.
I will never get over how God created someone so perfect for me--a man who loves Jesus, an artist, a deep thinker, great conversationalist, tenderhearted, funny, follows the NBA, appreciates hiphop, and is even tall with dark hair, blue eyes and Aussie.
I love the freedom to just be who God made me and to share in that exchange with my best friend/husband every day.
Too often, the moments in life that I cherish most are the ones which cannot simply be captured on camera or with words on paper.
I believe that music is one of the most captivating and mysterious of all of God's creation.
No matter what trials I face, the amount of things I can be thankful for always outweigh them.

Day 10 of 20

2011-05-11T16:56:00.000+10:00

"Happy Birthday to you..." Matt laughably sang to me as I was waking up. I giggled, knowing how much he despises that song and yet, he still managed to get the first part out.

I remember the first time we talked about birthdays and how people at the office always feel the need to buy a cake. I confessed that I was one of those people who would, like most receptionists or admin assistants, make it a bigger deal than it needed to be. Hats, party plates, favourite kind of dessert--something to break up the office boredom at least.

But when it came down to it, people never really sang the song like they meant it and it was always off tune, off beat, and eventually would fade or drop off into some sort of melancholy lullaby. Haaaaaa...ppy burrrr-th...day...tooooo...youuuuuuu... ZZZzzz

"Who made up that tune? It's so depressing!" I couldn't agree with Matt more. The more I think about it, the more it makes me laugh when I hear it sung.

A black envelope appeared before me. I recognized the brand of stationery--Kikki K., one of my faves. Love it! He knows my style. I opened it. I read it. I cried. Who would've thought I'd ever find a man who could just write me words so deep that they bring tears to my eyes? I'm sure Jesus knew. He always does. Matt's birthday card to me was so honest, so loving, and so inspiring. I didn't want or need to do anything but cry and hug him. Good grief--what a girl I am! Sigh...

Then it was off to work for him and off to the computer for me. I was quite excited as I had a chat date scheduled with my family back home. Just before getting online with them, I received a phone call from Anna, my "mum"-in-law, wishing me a happy birthday. And then I got to chat with my cousin Stef for a bit as the emails started coming in from more loved ones back home. It was like a little virtual party on my computer screen.

After all the fun chats with my siblings and birthday greetings from all, I shut down and picked up the phone to book a hair appointment. This girl was in dire need of a haircut and what better way to enter her 30th year? A new do was a must.

The afternoon was spent relaxing, going for a light jog, and then catching up with my parents on Skype. They had just returned home from a visit to the OC and were eager to greet me before I left for the evening. That made it complete in my books. Just being able to see my family's faces on that day was good and made me so thankful to God for awesome technology.

I got dressed up and rushed out the door to catch a cab to my favourite salon in the city. My stylist rocked and worked her wonders on my long mane which had become borderline rats nest. By 6:30, Matt rang and was waiting for me outside.

He whisked me off to dinner at The Waterfront restaurant down at Circular Quay by The Rocks. On the outside, the restaurant was decorated with these huge antique ship masts in the front, and our seats were near the window where we had a gorgeous view of the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge.

After skimming the extravagant options on the menu, I gave in to an all-time favourite--fish & chips. They taste the best here in Sydney. Over dinner, we dove into the meaning of birthdays, family traditions, and expectations. Sometimes I wish I had a little recording device to capture our conversations. We get deep! I love that about my husband. He talks, he asks questions, and I always find myself learning and growing with him.

Two entrees, two mains, a cappuccino and a chocolate dessert later, we headed home where the evening continued. "Search!" he said while videotaping me walking from one end of the flat to the other, guided only by his clues of cold, warm, warmer, and hot. Yes, it was Dayco-style hot & cold. Find your own presents. Haha! Loved it! I found two Alfred Hitchcock dvds (I'd been talking about how I wanted to own some Hitchcock and he remembered!) and a pair of hot, black patent heels I'd been eyeballing. It was fabulous. A perfect way to start my 30s--a full belly, a new hair style, hot shoes, and an incredible husband.

Jesus is so good to me. I can't get over how much He has done for me and taken me through, especially these past few years. Every day I'm more in awe of how He works and can see Him doing stuff--not just in my life, but also in Matt's life and in the lives of our loved ones. He doesn't stop. He doesn't get tired. And He doesn't give up. He is faithful, real, and good. He makes everything work out for His glory and within that, His will for us is to live life abundantly. I can't think of anyone more deserving of praise than Him.

Thank you Jesus for giving me a life so full and so abundant. When I deserved nothing, You gave me everything. And You don't stop giving either. Every morning, I wake up and breathe in a new day, fully fresh with your goodness. Lord, help me to set myself aside and put You first always in all that I do.

May I remember this 30th year, that for me to live is Christ. Amen.

Days 7, 8, & 9 of 20

2011-05-10T16:15:00.000+10:00

Everything is starting to blur together now that I've lost track of updating my calendar. I'm hopelessly addicted to it. I don't know, maybe it's semi-OCD of me but I enjoy logging what I've done within a certain time frame. Maybe it makes me feel grounded in a way or like time isn't escaping me or at least I can see where it is going and whether I've been productive or wise with it.

So to be honest, I'm a bit perturbed to have had no events or actions logged for May 7 or 8. I do recall that one of the mornings, Matt and I walked up the road to our favourite cafe. We go there so often that the people who work there see us and know exactly what we're going to order. They smile when we walk through the door and say, "Hey, how are you? The usual?"

I've always wanted to hear that for some reason. And now, I get to. It's fantastic. I feel like it signifies something more than just the fact that I am a creature of habit. Something beyond the order. So many messages are packed in that little phrase. To me they are saying, "We know you really like our food and our service. We're glad to have you back. We like seeing customers like you return every weekend. We enjoy your company and business."

Or they could be thinking nothing like that and I could just be on Cloud 9 which is often the case. But anyway, it makes me feel special or recognized. To be a "regular" somewhere is like one of life's little accomplishments. Or at least it has been in my books. So there, check the box on that one.

As for Monday the 9th, it is the eve of my 30th birthday and I have spent it playing virtual shopping on my newest addiction called "Fashiolista." It's ridiculously fun and the best part is getting to share your style with random people across the world. If they like your style, people will sign up to follow you to see what trends you are finding and piecing together for outfits. I feel like I'm a little 5 year old girl who gets to play dress up with designer clothes I'd never be able to afford. It's like a little dream come true.

In the evening, Matt and I set out to do two things: (1) get cappuccinos and (2) buy a space heater for our flat. The Sydney autumn chill is growing more bitter by the day and all too soon winter will be upon us. I thank God for giving us a roof over our heads, especially this time of the year when rainstorms are frequent and the howling wind persists. And I thank Him for little space heaters like this one we now have.

It's cozy time!

Clean styles

2011-05-07T21:41:00.000+10:00

It's not easy to find good, clean styles just anywhere. Join me on my adventures as I discover a whole new world of fashion in the land down under! Presenting...theLockShop.

Day 5 or 6? of 20

2011-05-07T01:00:00.000+10:00

I think I'm starting to lose count. I'm not exactly sure how that's happened but I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that I'm one day ahead of California which is when these posts are showing up.

Anyway, the bottom line is, the time on the clock caught my eye as it showed "12:34AM" and I couldn't help but think of my sister Cat. It's her favourite time, whether it's AM or PM. I reckon she just likes the sequence 1-2-3-4. It's cute. She always used to go out of her way to announce the time once it reached 12:34 and let everyone know it is her favourite.

I've been digging around old photo albums which contain my baby pictures. It's hard not to notice the older kids in the photos posing next to some chunky newborn which happens to be me. Thumbing through each page makes me realize just how many mothers I actually had growing up. It was like having not just one, but three women looking after me. No wonder they all still refer to me as "the baby."

I guess it would be difficult to see me any other way. That's just how it was. With Mother's Day coming up this weekend, I have to admit, there's probably two more women who are also deserving of recognition for they in fact, were like mothers to me. My two sisters--Mare and Cat.

Also with this special occasion rolling around, I'm reminded that in 1981, Mother's Day landed on the 10th and marking another special event--yes, yours truly was welcomed into the world. I am approaching my big 3-0 and am just in shock of how quickly it has come. Yet, turning 25 seems like ages ago. At that time, I was working for a non-profit organization and living in La Mirada with a few girl friends from college. It was a very pivotal season for me. Now standing before me is another one, fresh and full of unknown adventures to be had. I'm actually really excited about this next year. So many things will unfold and so many others will change. Like they've been saying about the NBA playoffs this year, I feel there's a change coming...

Today my dear patient husband returned to the office, sniffling a trifle with random sneeze attacks but nevertheless, he persisted. He must have been surprised to find no one home when he walked through the door as I was running behind on my daily gym routine. I discovered another avenue through which I can unload yet another arm of my internals. And it's called Fashiolista. It absorbed me most of the day to the point at which I was able to find 106 pieces of fabulous fashion, love 158, create 10 lists, and generate 3 followers. After all that, I then figured out a way to share these favourite finds through another blog (coming soon!). It will be called "theLockShop"--what else?

It is now close to 1AM and Matt just announced, "G'night Jos..." which is his way of saying, "It's bedtime." He's been working on a personal project on his Mac and I can hear the computer still chugging away, though its operator has intentionally abandoned it to have a quick shower and brush his teeth. I suppose I should get a move on now and be a good girl.

Goodnight cruel world, goodnight.

My dream wardrobe

2011-05-06T20:17:00.000+10:00

...is coming to a blog near you. Watch for a new link to theLockShop.

Day 4 of 20

2011-05-05T14:41:00.000+10:00

I know it may be hard to believe but Matt is down with a real flu and not man flu. Shifting to the role of nurse these past few days has been a major change up to both our routines. By 9am he's usually off to work where he is engulfed in designing cool stuff most people dream about doing for organizations and agencies they'd kill to work for. Meanwhile I'm usually at home on our humble couch, scraping the bottom of my cereal bowl ready to unearth my heart's recent dialogue onto a blog or through my newest medium on tumblr.

Today was yet another colourful one spent cooped up indoors. We boo'd with the Laker fans in their disgust of today's Game 2 matchup against the Mavs. We giggled at the terrible graphics used in locally broadcasted commercials. We winced as we watched Pau Gasol sluggishly thrust his body from one end of the court to the other like an ancient herbivore. We smashed a homecooked meal while watching an old episode of The Office. We laughed at the ridiculousness of Michael and Dwight and wished we were friends with Jim and Pam. Then somehow we got on the topic of legs and started to look up the anatomy of calves online and ended up researching patellar tendonitis. After that, I shared a funny YouTube clip Chach had sent to me showing a bride that fell into a swimming pool. We were pissing ourselves as we watched it over and over again.

Marriage is so unpredictably fun. Perhaps because of days like these or moments like this one right now where I'm blogging and Matt is watching bits and pieces of a documentary on DAIM on his Mac. The setting in the room feels much like that of a library. Every so often, one of us will break the silence and make the other laugh. Then, the sound of a familiar lawn mower rumbles past our flat.

"Oh, it's your bike!" Matt says.

"Dickhead hour," I say back.
He laughs.

"When did I first say that quote?" he asks.

"When I was living at King St. and we could hear drunk people yelling in the street down below."

For some people, that's their idea of fun. Actually, for most people in Australia, getting drunk is their idea of a fun activity. And that's no exaggeration. It simply is the culture. They have banners, signs, and commercials endorsed by the government warning people of "Drink Driving." When I asked Matt what "Drink Driving" was he said it is called that because the only drink that exists to Aussies is an alcoholic one. I laughed. This whole time I thought it was simply just a typo and the ads meant to say "drunk driving" instead. Who knew?

Tomorrow is another day here in opposite land and I think my flu boy may actually be healthy enough to return to the office, which means I will be playing catch up most of the day and may not return until a much later time, so for now, I bid you farewell once again and goodnight.

Day 3 of 20

2011-05-04T16:50:00.000+10:00

My body clock woke me up at 8am. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep. About an hour or so later, Matt's phone rang and after hearing the sound of his fingertips busily texting, there was silence again. My poor husband is still very sick.

I got up to make him something. My patient requested "hot Wheat Bix" which means two Wheat Bix pieces in a bowl of hot milk and then topped with brown sugar. The rest of the morning was slow as he meandered from the couch to his chair to the bed. I kept busy in the kitchen, then got to vacuuming and finally over to some laundry.

We enjoyed a rare show on the telly--NBA Playoffs live on OneHD (a channel here in Australia). Felt like we were back in the US as we watched the Heat destroy the Celtics. Next up was movie marathon as we watched "Amadeus" and then Matt's favourite of all time--"Seven Pounds."

"It's a burner," says my patient. Then he looks at me and laughs. I'm completely balling, tears pouring down my face. He hugs me. I know why I'm crying and it's not just because the movie is sad. It's that it confirms everything I know is true about the man sitting right here next to me. And he moves me.

I love our talks and I'll always remember the one we had tonight.

Day 2 of 20

2011-05-03T16:39:00.000+10:00

Today something new happened. My husband slept through his alarm and so did I. Except he did so on purpose and I am apparently just a sleepyhead.

He wasn't feeling well last night and it seemed to have carried over into the morning. It was clear he needed to call it a sick day and after notifying work, he turned over and continued in deep slumber. I, on the other hand, did my usual morning routine. I say "usual" meaning usual these days. I didn't used to have this routine of smashing a bowl of Sultana Bran and skim milk while updating my iCal on the MacBook.

It's no fun seeing your husband sick in bed. He's been sleeping most of the day. Around 2:30pm he woke up and spent the next 45 minutes trying to spew. It was a sad success. Then I fed him some toast and Advil to kill the massive headache he was battling. He got through half of the toast and went straight back to bed.

At about 4pm, I jumped online to chat with my sister and brother-in-law. It was really nice to be able to see their faces and catch up on life. I miss my family a lot and thank Jesus for the incredible technology we have available these days. Because of it, I never feel like they're too far away.

Now it's 6:35pm and something cut our iChat short. Short as in, I didn't get to say goodbye properly. Nevertheless, we were reaching our 3 hour average and she did say the battery was getting low on her computer so I'm guessing it just crashed. Not one sound is coming from the bedroom. I think it's time for me to check on my handsome patient.

Mayday

2011-05-02T16:11:00.000+10:00

People in
grandma's generation
tell you
I was here or
I was going there
the day
Japan attacked
Pearl Harbor;

People in
Dad and Mom's generation
tell you
I was doing this or
I thought that
when I heard
JFK
was shot;

People in
my generation
tell you
I felt this and
I did that
the day
planes crashed
the Twin Towers;

Now I
am telling you
I cried and felt
justice was done
the moment I heard
Al Quaeda's leader
was dead.

Day 1 of 20 "last days"

2011-05-02T15:08:00.000+10:00

If someone told you that starting today, you only had 20 days left to live on earth, how would you choose to spend them? Partying? Travelling? Working? Sightseeing? Shopping? Changing your habits? Reverting to old ones? Getting through your bucket list? Maybe even getting deep--apologizing or forgiving others?

For me, I wouldn't change anything really. I just might write more--take more time out to reflect on everything Jesus has done in my life, all that He has orchestrated and all that He has fulfilled up to this point in time. I might take time out to explore what His plans have meant to me, what impact they have on others, and unveil the things Jesus is doing through me.

I grew up in a home overflowing with warmth and love from Dad, Mom, and my two older sisters. My world was one where I knew my mom loved me and sacrificed for me; where my dad was my hero and always provided for me; where my sisters entertained me and protected me. I read in a book once that "Every little girl should be so loved, so welcomed--seen, known, treasured." I couldn't agree with the author more as she continued to describe this as "life as God meant it to be for every little girl."

A strange sort of feeling begins to creep in as I dwell on the overabundant blessings of my childhood and upbringing. What is this thing that makes me feel so uneasy? The quiet whispers of other voices, looking upon my life and judging me--writing me off as spoiled, sheltered, pampered, bratty. "Aha!" they murmur to themselves, as if to have now uncovered the answers to a mystery which tortured them. Relieved, as though my confession somehow provides them with reasons as to why I am this way or that, and they return to where they once were to continue their silent scowling from the dark corners. What do I do with these voices? What is there to be done? Can one person silence the multitudes? Yes, but only One Jesus. So I go to Him and continue on.

Lately, He's been showing me what it is to be a woman. The kind of woman only He intended for woman to be when He created Eve in the beginning. She was what made creation complete. God had already made everything, including man in Adam. But after all that, there was still something missing--it was Woman.

The more I dig deep into the verses in Genesis which tell of how Woman came about, the more I understand just how crucial and precious women truly are. It is incredible to discover who you are and everything you were made to be when you take the time to look at your origins. The world is so full of opinion, criticism, all of which are mostly lies about who you are. But God's Word is above all of that--it is raw truth at its best.

A grandma once said, "No one can tell you who you are except God." As a woman, it's too easy to find other things with which to define one's self. Clothes, jewelry, shoes, hair, other objects of style, fitness, careers, financial independence, relationship status, children, cooking/baking skills, personal talents, weekly activities--we love to define ourselves by almost everything except God's Word. Women become obsessed with these things in hope of arriving at some concrete level of self-worth and identity.

But all these frilly, surface-level things are silenced in the presence of truth. They have no place and hold no certainty or value to a woman and who she is in God's eyes. He says in His Word that He looks at the heart. Yes, it's that simple. Somewhere, deep down in there, beyond the boresome chit chat and busy schedules, women have hearts that are overflowing. What I often wonder about other women is, what are their hearts overflowing with?

Sometimes it's obvious and you can see it on a woman's face. Other times, it's in her words. For others, it appears in their actions. A twinkle of the eye sparking joy or a slam of the door bearing frustration. And on rare occasion, it's hidden deep within. A sort of internal secret, never to be shared.

"Where are you hurting, my child?" The gentle voice on the other side of the phone was an elderly man named Sonny. He was an kind, caring teacher who had befriended me some years ago, when I had first started attending that church. I paused, and before I could even respond, I broke down into tears. Why did he know? How did he know? Something had told him, or rather, Someone I'm sure. Regardless of how he knew, he followed the prompting to pick up the phone and call me that night. Little did he know, that's all I was waiting for. That's all I needed to hear. And as I cried, I felt my heart begin to heal.

I was recovering from a month old breakup, thinking I had it all together. It was a difficult season, and hanging around the same church as my ex wasn't exactly the best game plan for a vulnerable girl. But I had something more to prove--that I was strong enough. That I could handle it. I was encouraged by the words of one of the elders who expressed how good it was that I was still part of the church body. That was confirmation to me that I should stay. Wasn't I mature? Why should I leave now? It shouldn't be enough to drive me away from church. I could recover here. I was moving on, right?

I was only fooling myself. Beneath it all, my heart was hurting. I hurt every Sunday as I pulled into the church parking lot. I hurt as I smiled and greeted others walking through the doors. I hurt as I walked down the aisle with the other ushers to collect the tithe. Every drum beat of those re-written worship songs pounded in my ears, reminding me of all the former days I was trying so hard to just leave behind. But wasn't I doing the right thing? Staying in church and serving?

Years later, I look back and realize how ridiculous my behaviour was. Once again, I had set myself up to meet the expectations of others, without listening to what Jesus was trying to show me. Not to discount the love and grace that was shown towards me by friends and family, but rather that I prioritized their affirmation and sought their advice and direction above God's. Similarly, I ran to the comfort of leaders in the church hoping they too, would provide a source of security. But what did Jesus have to say about my next steps? Was I listening to Him? Or was I simply crying to Him for help, denying the fault of any of my actions?

Seeking direction from other sources is so dangerous. As a woman, it is particularly evil because this is our beginning. Our roots begin with doubt, fear, a feeling that God is holding out on us--a lack of trust in Him. Eve did exactly this in the Garden of Eden when she listened to the serpent tell her something different from what God had told her. She believed a lie. She convinced herself of it. And once convinced in her own mind, she acted upon it. Now we as women, daughters of Eve, carry forth this dangerous habit. How does a woman in the 21st century stay on track?

Every day, the world strives for my attention. I can hear it calling and can feel it pulling. Shop now! Click here! Go there! Buy this! Wear this! Look like this! Watch that! Have you checked this out? Have you heard about this? Do you know what's opening tomorrow? Have you seen that? Do you have this? No. No. NO!!! I count to ten, breathe, and start again. What was I doing? Oh yes, writing this post. And then there's the internal me, with the constant personal nagging. Don't forget to do this tomorrow! You're running out of time! Have you scheduled this yet? Have you done that yet? Why haven't you? You're going to regret it! You've only got 1 hour left! Don't eat that, eat this! I count to ten again and breathe.

So, how would I spend my first of the last 20 days on earth? Doing exactly what I've just done. Documenting the ways Jesus has worked through my life and capturing the current lessons He's teaching me. Until tomorrow again, goodnight.

Sights before 30

2011-05-02T15:00:00.000+10:00

Jesus has taken me all over the world.

By the time I was 5, He had already allowed me to go to Disneyland and the Philippines. Most of my early years through to my 20s included road trips with Dad taking the family with him on various interstate excursions across California: Gilroy, Sacramento, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, Monterey Bay, Carmel, Fremont, Hayward, Vallejo, Danville, San Ramon, Lafayette, Alameda and recently Columbia. Relatives lived in nearby cities and we'd frequently be on the road to either Pittsburg, Hercules, Daly City or Stockton. He also showed me early on that one of my favourite places to shop was in the city of Walnut Creek.

Also, every summer from birth through to high school, He reunited our family together with dozens of other families at a place called Mission Springs, treasured and tucked away in Mt. Hermon near Santa Cruz, California. This week long adventure always meant 100% fun with friends and trips to the Santa Cruz beach and the famous Boardwalk, and visits to Monterey Bay Aquarium.

By age 15, Jesus had taken me twice to Vancouver and Victoria, Canada and twice to Seattle, Washington; Reno and Vegas, Nevada multiple times; the Grand Canyon in Arizona; a cruise to Ensenada, Mexico; Maui and Oahu, Hawaii; and Jacksonville and Orlando, Florida. During my high school years, He led me on mission trips to Chicago, Illinois and Guayaquil, Ecuador.

By the time I turned 20, He had already shown me the east coast of the U.S. from Maryland up through to New York, including the house near Boston where my father lived when he first came to America from the Philippines. He also allowed me to travel with my sister to Bryce Canyon, Utah, a cruise to the Bahamas, and Miami and Jacksonville, Florida. Then He led me to go on another mission trip, this time down to an orphanage in Mexico with my sister and her church.

By age 25, Jesus led me to settle into a career at a non-profit organization in Whittier and during my time there, He allowed me to travel to Orlando, Florida for work; visit family in Manila and Pateros, Philippines; and visit friends in Washington, D.C. About 2 years later, when I thought I was going to pursue writing at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland, He had other plans and led me to temporary work at an engineering firm in Orange County. The next three years were spent travelling to various places for work: Seattle, Washington; Cazenovia, New York; Flagstaff and Phoenix, Arizona; Sydney, Newcastle, New South Wales; Canberra; Melbourne, Victoria; Brisbane, Queensland. Beyond work travels, He also allowed me to visit other places including Savannah, Georgia; a road trip to Ventura; Bathurst and Oberon, New South Wales; and Broome, Western Australia.

Since departing my original home in the SF Bay Area for college, Jesus has provided a number of places for me to live around southern California including Fullerton, Anaheim, La Mirada, and San Clemente. And now at 29, He has brought me all the way here, to settle down in Sydney, Australia. Considering all of the places He's taken me, what He's shown me, and where He has brought me, I can truly say I never thought I would have had such a travel-filled life before 30. Each place and each journey holds a distant memory for me. I hope to bring them to life by articulating each of those in the posts to come.

Wide open spaces

2011-04-28T16:33:00.000+10:00

All morning I've been looking up old music and favourite songs on Youtube and have lost myself among the memories they bring back. Everything from old school Mariah Carey to PM Dawn. It's amazing how music can trigger something inside you and throw you back in time to a place that was once so familiar. Listening to some of the songs now reveals so much--about the times, how they changed and how I've changed with them.

Music is such a beautiful way of communicating personal and powerful messages--love, pain, joy, history, frustration, desires, hope. All it takes is for one instrument, drum beat, baseline or voice to pierce straight through you with one note, verse, bridge or chorus and that's when the message hits you.

I feel silly saying this but for me, it happened today while listening to a song by the Dixie Chicks called "Wide Open Spaces." The line was, "A young girl's dreams no longer hollow. It takes the shape of a place out West. But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed." And that was it. I thought to myself, wait--that's me.

The singer undoubtedly meant "out West" as the western side of the U.S., but this didn't matter so much to me. I too, have gone west--all the way to Australia. And like she sang, I couldn't have guessed all the things that were waiting for me here. I know I can sound corny when I say that living here is like a dream come true, but that's the truth. Since I was a little girl I've always wanted to live in another country and one of the countries I had on my "life list" was Australia.

The song also made me think of Mom and how she told me she would dream of going to America. She had watched "The Sound of Music" and after seeing the beautiful green hills and snowcapped mountains, she longed to sing like Maria, with outstretched arms on top of a mountain singing, "The hills are alive..." You know the rest. But "The Sound of Music" wasn't filmed in America. That didn't matter to Mom. It's how she always pictured it, and it's the place where she went to start a new life with Dad.

They both put a lot on the line to come to America, leaving behind their family and friends. Everything familiar would now be thousands of miles away. Everything they'd ever seen, learned, loved and known--everything except each other. And what an incredible journey they've had and continue to have together. Every so often, they return to the Philippines--a place, they lovingly refer to as "home." How could it be anything else? That's where they both share their childhood memories. That's the place where they both learned how to survive in tight conditions. That's the place that shaped and prepared them for life abroad in a new place, a brand new world on the other side of the Pacific.

Years later, here I am. Their daughter, thousands of miles away from what she calls home. And just like Dad and Mom had to do, I'm learning to adjust to this new life, with its new faces, challenges, and joys. I truly have gone to a place out west--west of the Pacific, where more memories are to be created with my own husband and more life is to be lived.

Flashback: April 2010, Part 2

2011-04-21T15:33:00.000+10:00

Soon after my friends departed, I was whisked off by my parents for a trip to Maui and got to see my sisters for the first time in months. What a wonderful surprise! Thank you Dad and Mom!

Flashback: April 2010, Part 1

2011-04-21T15:30:00.000+10:00

I can't believe it's been a year since my girlfriends Chach and Phraz from California visited. I was living in the heart of the city at that time so they got the full on tourist experience. We had fun running around Darling Harbour, taking ferries here and there, and exploring new sights together. More visits, please. :)

Mom as a bride

2011-04-20T17:09:00.000+10:00

Curse of the sideways glance

2011-04-12T13:34:00.000+10:00

People who have heard or found out I'm writing a book always approach me with this strange sort of arrogance about them, like they know something I don't or like they too could write a book but just don't have the time. They examine me afresh with squinted, demeaning eyes in a sly unengaged sort of way and the tone of their voice begins to sing a self-righteous tune as they carry on with their empty, mundane queries: What are you writing about? Who is your target audience? How do you plan to get published? Where do you write? What do you do every day? Do you write at home? Don't you get bored? Don't you get lonely? What's next? What do you plan to do after you finish the book? Thus, what could have been a friendly get-to-know-you type of conversation now often resembles a criminal investigation. When did I ever say the book was meant for you? What makes you think I expect to get published, go on book tours, and become rich and famous? How did you arrive at these false assumptions about me?

Everyone has a perspective--their own. And I've found only a few individuals exist who are humble enough to glean something from you. They ask you questions to learn more about you, essentially giving themselves a perspective outside of their own. Is it so difficult to do? Apparently so. Perhaps because the average person is so caught up in their own library of expertise, that they think their knowledge of the world (including you who they just met) has peaked and nothing is new or relevant to them. But ask these same people if they've heard of Edward Gorey or what their thoughts are on dactylic pentameter and you'll get blank stares.

Creating shallow conversation is easy for people who like to identify themselves with common knowledge. There seems to be some unspoken hierarchy of it and oftentimes, these people who recognize the different levels of common knowledge make every effort to ensure they're 100% competent in its varying subjects and topics. But what often goes unrecognized is that individuals rank information according to their own assumptions of what knowledge is valuable. Thus knowledge on one subject or topic has varying degree of value to one person than it would to the next.

What becomes difficult is the continuous internal conflict I have when faced with these type of individuals and discover what subjects and topics they value. They consciously make statements to qualify themselves and then ask you questions to qualify yourself back to them. But why do I feel the need to qualify myself to another person whose values neither intrigue nor impress me? Is it because I'm seeking their approval? But why? This is the curse of the sideways glance.

It's difficult to find people who will cheer for you. On rare occasion, you will run into an individual who genuinely rejoices for you, tries to understand and make sense of your pursuits and passions, and appreciates you. Most of the time however, you will experience moments in which your consciousness is momentarily pulled alongside other consciousnesses which will test you. What you are left with is this feeling of nervous frustration--an uncertain readiness, knowing that at any moment, you or the other could possibly be revealed, but the choice is always yours. Who will it be?

Annandale adventure

2011-03-31T14:27:00.000+11:00

Yesterday, I received a note from the Annandale Post saying I missed a delivery and they were holding a package for me. To my delight, I mapped out a little morning trek to Annandale and off I went.

This was my first time walking up Booth Street and I found it rather charming in a weird way. I noted several things as I made my way uphill: 1 salon on the corner, 1 book shop, 1 quirky scientific shop, and a few colourful cafes. I also recognized an IGA (Independent Grocers Alliance) and was happy to know we were within walking distance of a local grocery store. Note to self: if I shop there, that means errands and workout all wrapped into one = awesome.

Ten minutes later, I arrived at the front door of the Post to pick up my surprise package. I stood in line like a fidgety little girl, eager to give someone my note so they could retrieve something with my name on it. Almost immediately I reached the front and handed the note to the friendly old man across the counter. The man disappeared into a very secretive back room and then reappeared with a square silver box. As I quickly glanced at the return sender's name, I smiled--"lk" were the initials penned into that small corner of paper and I couldn't wait to open it up to see what could be inside.

On my way home, I popped in to one of the cafes I had been eyeballing called "The Gallery" which was very cute and ordered a small cappuccino to take home with me. The warmth of the cup felt nice to hold in my hand as I walked beneath the grey sky above which seemed to be threatening rain. It's strange to think of being in autumn when my mind tells me March means spring. Right now, it all feels like one in the same and I find it rather cozy to be wearing my jacket and holding a hot drink in these seasons.

Finally, I arrived home excited to crack open this silvery snakeskin square--lo and behold, an adorable card and two doses of my absolute kryptonite!!! Girl Scout cookies! Incredible--I laughed out loud and felt my self-discipline begin to shrink. Immediately the thin mints went into the freezer for safekeeping (away from myself! ha!) and consumption at a future time. As for the other box, I will try my best to resist the temptation of smashing (that's Aussie for devouring) the entirety of them in one sitting.

And so concludes my mini adventure to Annandale. Thank you my dear friend Kobbs! What a delicious autumn surprise! Perhaps I will reward myself with just one cookie sampling later today. Oh yes and of course, I will ensure they are equally consumed by the man of the house as well. Cheers!

Of food and faith

2011-03-21T15:25:00.000+11:00

With what happened to my sister recently, I've been reading up on how the human body fights disease and how to strengthen my central nervous system to increase my health. After much research, I arrived at one simple conclusion: eat only whole foods (fresh veggies and fruit) and perform at least 30 minutes of intense activity (not lengthy, just intense). Simple, right?

Simple, but not easy. Putting it to practice is hard work and not everyone is up to the challenge. But of all the people in the world, shouldn't Christians be the ultimate examples of health? We know who made us. We understand the context and purpose of our physical bodies. Each of us has been given a "temple" with which to bring glory to God and use for His purpose. But how often do we find His own people are the worst stewards of their temples?

I'm putting my hand up--guilty as charged. I know I'm not in the greatest shape of my life. I never have been, not even in my high school days or early 20s. Sure I played volleyball, went through the motions of practice and conditioning, even coached. But I still ate junk food and never really pushed myself through the exercises, and when the seasons ended so did my activity level. My eating habits only got worse. So is it any surprise I'm actually weak and unhealthy? It took years for me to build this body I now have. I didn't just wake up one day to suddenly find I had a belly the size of buddha. It is the result of my own poor choices and my lack of physical activity which is a humbling reality. But guess what--that doesn't mean I can't start making changes for the better right now.

What does health mean for Christians? Everything. Why? Because we have been given bodies by our Creator to serve His purposes and if Christ is in us, the hope of glory, shouldn't our physical bodies reflect His image? Jesus wasn't some skinny dude nor was He a fatty. He was a strong and healthy carpenter, able to withstand the hours of ruthless beatings by the Roman guards, able to carry His own cross to the hill in Golgotha and able to hang on it for as long as He did--that was the physical capacity of our Saviour as a human, in His physical body. Of all the professions He chose to be on earth, He chose one which not only set a spiritual example for us but also an example for us to follow in our physical capacity.

What kind of testimony are we as Christians giving to the world with our overweight preachers and ministers smashing a feed at massive potlucks, women eating cakes, muffins, and coffee at Bible studies, and children being fed pizza and soda at youth group? Rather than asking the Lord to bless what we're about to eat, we should consider whether the food we consume after praying is even worth putting in our bodies! Honestly, does a bagel loaded with cream cheese and a grande Frappuccino really give God glory? So why ask Him to bless something that is junk to Him? Why not bring Him glory by exchanging what the world offers (fast food, processed food, soda, artificially flavoured juices and candy) with something He's constantly been providing since creation--seafood, meat, fresh vegetables, fruit and water.

As disciplined followers of Christ, let us not continue overlooking this area of our lives. The church body has suffered long enough from poor maintenance of it. It is time for us to readjust our priorities and make a great exchange for the good. As we focus on feeding our minds and spirit with His Word, we also need to focus on feeding our physical bodies with the foods which glorify Him.

Starting today, I'm making a major shift in my eating habits and daily activities. I'm committed to increasing my health not just for practical reasons but to honour the One Who gave it to me so that I am better equipped to serve Him in full capacity.

And if you don't know, now you know

2011-03-15T18:43:00.000+11:00

This post is dedicated to the loved ones who are sweet to my face but talk crap behind my back and to all the people like them who try to cut me down and criticize my life choices...

Cheers to you:

You are wise in your own eyes

And there is more hope for a fool than for you.

You have a skill and haste with words

And there is more hope for a fool than for you.

Shame on you each time

you answer a matter before you even hear it;

You hate and disguise it with your own lips,

and your flattering mouth works ruin.

Like a madman who throws

firebrands, arrows, and death,

you continually deceive others,

and say, "I was only joking!"

You proclaim your own goodness--

Let another person praise you,

and not your own mouth;

Others, and not your own lips.

What I've desired from you is genuine kindness,

Even a poor man is better than a liar.

You do everything to make yourself rich,

yet you have nothing;

And though you think I make myself poor,

I have great riches.

For a dream comes through much activity,

And a fool's voice is known by his many words.

You devise deceitful matters

Against me and my husband.

Without cause, you set up traps for us

you want to see us fall for no reason.

You rise up and ask me things I don't know;

You've attacked me even when I did not know it.

But you'll be the first to plead your own cause

and your cause will seem right

Until everyone comes and examines you.

Open rebuke is better

Than love carefully concealed

and if you don't know,

now you know.

*a remix of Proverbs

why I left Facebook

2011-03-11T11:50:00.000+11:00

"Myface"--that's what my Mom calls it. I laugh out loud every time. To Mom, social networking sites like Myspace and Facebook are meaningless to the point where they are one in the same. Some obscure name she doesn't think twice about and thus calls it "Myface." But she's not that far off, is she? That's the main point of this site--it's about my face or your face, depending on how you want to look at it.

Why don't you have a Facebook anymore? I often get asked this question and think to myself, So what if I don't. Why do you have one? The answers would probably vary but I doubt the root of it would ever be confessed by anyone. The truth is, everyone is always trying to get up, get noticed, get out there. They not only want people to know everything about them, they want to be known--but for what? For going to some friend's party last weekend? For celebrating special occasions or holidays? For travelling? For being single or in a relationship? For getting married or having a baby? So what? Isn't that just the simple beauty of life itself? What have you done lately that is actually worth putting up on the internet for the entire world to see?

My life doesn't need to be conveniently accessible to thousands of people I don't know. Sure, I may know dozens of people, but that doesn't mean they're all people who really know me. Who actually has the quality time to spend with 100 "friends" let alone 300? Facebook is a shallow way for one to feel intimately connected to a community of loved ones when in reality, you're still just looking at a screen by yourself. Face it--you have become the ultimate modern-day Peeping Tom.

Facebook is a poor man's celebrity website for the common person. You're not famous, but you can be on Facebook. It is an engine to help you drive your personal brand--whatever it may be. You choose photos and images that perfectly capture who you are and present yourself to the world exactly how you want to be portrayed. But you and I are not celebrities. Celebrities have their own websites, they do stuff, and people follow them. The common Facebook user does nothing but spend countless hours building up their own page and then looking at other people's lives. I think Shakespeare would agree with me that it's all really much ado about nothing.

What's curious is that so many people are fascinated by it and caught up in it. They desire it. They're addicted to it. If you don't have a Facebook page, you feel pressured by those who do to get one. But why? What else is driving them towards it?

There's a massive gap between people who just get stuff done and people who spend time socializing, going out and doing multiple things every minute of every day. I don't want to be the latter. Life is too short to spend time in the latter. I feel I've been given a certain amount of time in life to do that which I've been called to do and in the end, I don't want to stand face to face with my Creator saying, "Well, I didn't actually have enough time to do what you asked me because I was busy spending time with your people, fostering hundreds of friendships over the internet."

I refuse to be a busy body Martha--my place is at Jesus' feet 110% of the time so I don't miss out on what He's saying and calling me to do. I need to be busy about my Father's business--not busy building my profile and trying to reconnect with people I never really knew that well on Facebook. This year I'm going to throw myself back to the basics so I can focus on the things that matter to Him. So just as "Myface" doesn't matter much to Mom, Facebook doesn't matter much to me and ultimately, in the end, Facebook doesn't really matter at all.

Meningitis

2011-03-01T07:30:00.000+11:00

I spent most of the day researching about meningitis--bacterial, viral, all variations of it, its side effects, stories of people who have had it, and its recovery periods.

My sister Cat was rushed to the hospital and the doctors have diagnosed her with meningitis but are still running a flurry of tests. Mare has been updating me on everything. It's all really difficult to digest, especially because I can't be there. I miss her so much and my heart really hurts. I can't stop crying just thinking about her...

Because meningitis affects the brain, she is unable to control her thoughts and speech and has been talking all crazy and saying all sorts of insane and hurtful things to Darren, Mare, and even Joyce. I wish I could be there to help with shifts. If I could just rush down to the hospital and be with her... But I trust Jesus has my sister in His care. It's just really hard and the tears don't seem to ever stop.

This is a rough time as it is the first time I've been so far away from my sister while she's in such critical condition. My mind and emotions have never really had to deal with the possibility of losing Cat--she has always been the relatively healthy one.

It's a new kind of hurt, a new kind of pain, frustration and helplessness. A new kind of trust, really. But as my husband reminds me, "God is bigger than this situation, bigger than the doctors, bigger than us. He breathes stars. He'll take care of Cat."

So what can I do? Rest in Him and on His promises. In Isaiah 43, He says, "Fear not, for I am with you...Everyone who is called by My name, whom I have created for My glory; I have formed him, yes, I have made him. I, even I, am the LORD, and besides Me there is no saviour. Indeed before the day was, I am He; and there is no one who can deliver out of My hand; I work, and who will reverse it?"

"Fear not, for I am with you," He reassures me. And it is He who works, so who can reverse it? He has plans and purpose in everything and I need to trust that what He's doing right now has a greater purpose than what any of us can see or feel at this time. The Lord of all creation is at work and there is nothing I can do to reverse the situation or the hurt. I am called to be still and remember that the God who created my sister Cat for His glory is the same God who will make her whole again.

what's really down under?

2011-01-16T17:45:00.000+11:00

having been back for one week now makes me want to constantly grab a pen and paper to jot down all the crazy little observations i've noticed about life in Australia versus life in the USA. what's different? i now see America as a place which caters to the independence of its people through convenience. everything is convenient--restaurants, shopping centers, banks, entertainment--you name it and you can probably get it, anytime and anywhere. not so in the land down under. you need to actually plan out your day or week ahead of time to make sure you get what you need before 6pm when everything closes. that is, except for Thursdays which are designated for "late night shopping."

i know it sounds ridiculous but there are some very beautiful benefits to this style of living. instead of putting things off because you can get them at any time convenient for you, you learn to balance out your time and shop during the hours you can. you find yourself having time to relax, chill out and go home when trading hours have ceased--something i never truly experienced when i lived in California. there was always something to do, places to go, and people to see. and working overtime doesn't cause a stir or gather accolades. but in Australia, people get their work done in a 7.5 hour day.

proportion--here people don't just work hard, play hard--i've observed they often work hard, drink harder. and don't be fooled by commercials--i haven't met one Australian who drinks Fosters. they laugh at it. just as hard as they laugh at the term "shrimp on the barbie." here, they're called "prawns" and they're about twice the size of the "shrimp" in the USA. speaking of food, nothing is as amazing as the selection of food in the USA--hands down, my homeland has the best variety with the craziest portions at the best price one can find anywhere. Australia is another story. people here are deprived of a good feed for good value. you'll find lots of little European style cafes, where you're often sitting shoulder to shoulder with the person next to you and the occupancy limit would break CalOSHA standards. but at least you can get a good coffee anywhere. i never imagined myself to be a coffee snob, but truly, the European influence on the coffee in Australia is definitely a plus. while i still enjoy a cup of good java, nothing quite compares to a well crafted cappuccino.

but beyond the differences in custom, food, spelling, currency, climate and jargon, there is a level which no one really ever talks about. i often find myself talking about it with my husband and it's these things which i'll attempt to tackle and hopefully begin unravelling in this 6th year of "the coin wash." stay tuned...

a new social order

2010-11-23T22:19:00.000+11:00

"461 PARK ST VIA DOMAIN" is what scrolls across the top of this massive machine chugging down the road towards me. moving into my husband's flat has brought about a series of new changes. access to a gym, a lap pool, a gangster kitchen, a massive bathroom, more square feet, wireless internet, and yes--a new commute to work via public transportation.

it wasn't easy and i was scared. but when you have a husband like mine, all this anxiety about buses disappears. the day before my first bus ride, he drew me up a little map to show me exactly where i should wait and helped me make a schedule for 10-15 increments of time, just in case i missed the first one, which one to take next. he even went so far as to show me the exact location of the bus stop on Google Maps so i could see how it looked in reality. he's a champ.

three weeks into my new routine and i've completely changed as a citizen. i feel it. it's like i've become part of some greater community now that i ride the bus. all these people, like me, hop on, hop off, push the little stop button and hear the bus bell "ding"--which has quickly become one of my all-time favourite sounds. it only sounds crisp and legit on the old school buses and has that distinctive ring to it that throws you back into another time. the modern day ones sound like an annoying alarm clock, the kind that just keeps buzzing and makes you want to chuck it out your window.

but regardless of the vintage "ding" of the bell stop, what makes or breaks the bus experience is the people. some days you get dealt a good batch. quiet, civilized, orderly, few. other days, hideous--crowded, pushy, stinky, obnoxious. is everyone going to fit in? why isn't that seat next to the bizarrely dressed lady taken? oh wait--no, offer it up to one of the elderly forced to stand. isn't that the nice thing to do? and who the heck is blasting a hideous Lady GaGa song? i can hear it from their headphones. truly, it's all very much a "social experiment" as Matt would say. until tomorrow...

young jeezy

2010-11-22T22:52:00.001+11:00

that's what is currently pumping from my husband's computer--"and I luv it...YeeeUH!" he sings along each time the chorus comes. it's a monday night down here in this distant land I've mysteriously come to settle into. laptop battery life reads 79%. that's about 39% more than my current energy level. i went all out aquatic styles when i came home after work today--straight to the little gym on the rowing machine and then into the lap pool with my funny little kick board i purchased from Kmart.

the new patio table was delivered today. i cooked up a proper meal so we could eat like civilized people on our new outdoor dining set. fresh salad, salmon, mash and garlic bread. we ate like kings. i bought new place mats at the QVB for the occasion. things are starting to come together at home. adding softer touches to our spacious modern day flat is heaps fun. "when is that feeling supposed to come...that feeling of being married? do you feel like we're married? i don't yet," he comments over dinner. it's true--i keep thinking it's going to sink in at some point, but it hasn't. i reckon it doesn't have to. it's just straight up fun living with the person you love and want to spend the rest of your life with. every morning i get to wake up to him and every evening i get to come home and hang out with him. it's a fun life...

except for this chlorine odour sinking into my skin. gotta have a tub.

first weekend

2010-11-14T13:13:00.000+11:00

This is it. My first weekend as a wife to be at home by myself. Matt went away Friday with Dad, Brad and Mark for a three day ride out past the Blue Mountains. I looked it up on Google maps and it's out in the boondocks. So far, I've managed to keep myself fully entertained though the morning was rough as I woke up to no one but the sound of my own snoring.

Friday night I did a bit of shopping and returned home determined to catch up on managing my hygiene--pedicure, manicure, and all those sorts of girly things that have escaped my attention over the past month. Mom and Dad rang me the other day wishing me a happy 1 month anniversary. How cute was that? One month...

It's amazing what habits you can develop in one month. Though I've hung out here dozens of times, I'm still learning my way around my new habitat. Sharing space again, cooking for two, joint laundry--it's all still very new.

Every five to ten minutes, a sports bike will be revving its engine in the distance and I find myself pausing for a split second to analyze whether the engine growl I hear is the one I've been waiting for. My habit has worsened now that I know he's coming home sometime in the next thirty minutes. During the weekdays, I'll be in the kitchen listening for that sound and my heart smiles the moment I confirm the all too familiar rumbling bass roaring past.

What's a good wife supposed to do when her husband is away? Who the heck knows? I don't, that's certain. After some thinking, I decided to make myself a little 'to do' list to avoid completely fatting out all weekend. Most of the list involved cleaning (which is a workout in itself!). What I thought would be a simple task of scrubbing the bathroom tiles turned into a 1.5 hr cardio blast. My back and upper arms are actually sore which is means I'm either completely out of shape or I've spent too much time scrubbing. Unfortunately, the stupid grout appears only a fraction lighter than it did before my burnout so clearly, I need to hit the gym.

Vacuum? Check. Laundry? Check. Dusting? Check. Windows? Checking. He'll be here any minute now.

3/4

2010-11-01T11:11:00.000+11:00

Today is Sunday, October 31st marking the third official week of being a married lady. I feel as though I have not yet fully grasped the beauty and reality of it. Everything is so very fresh and new and raw. I love that I get to spend the rest of my life with the man I've prayed for. The man I wasn't sure ever really sure existed. He is God's best for me and there is no doubt in my mind that Jesus brought me all the way to Australia to demonstrate His love and faithfulness to me. Jesus is so real and amazing. No wonder marriage fully mimics those characteristics. It stems form the heart and character of the One who created it from the beginning.

On the contrary, the world is so far from the truth. How much negativity is conjured up when the subject of marriage is being discussed? People love to hate on it, diss it, and make jokes about it. It's as though being married gives them license to be an idiot about it and speak sweeping assumptions and curses over it. "Just wait 15 years, Josephine"--what's that all about? Isn't the marriage relationship set up to illustrate our relationship with our Saviour Jesus Christ? Does he say crap like that about me and my relationship with Him? He is only ever full of love and patience. Whether it be 15 or 50 years, He always uplifts, always cherishes, always looks upon His own with complete delight.

"Marriage symbolizes God's convenant with His people, He takes it very seriously--and so should we." Friends and loved ones who understand the roots of this deep and meaningful covenant offer words of wisdom which emulate the love of Jesus.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love. We love Him because He first loved us. " So what is there to be afraid of in marriage? Nothing. Is it naive of me to have this mindset? No way. Jesus set it up in a way that requires me to be fully accepting and loving to my husband and he, to me. Without doubt, hesitation or fear.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." It was my best friend from childhood who reminded me that years ago, I was talking about Australia and wanting to live there. It's incredible what desires Jesus puts in our hearts, even at a young age and then seeing Him fulfill them in His time and in His way.

"Grace in marriage is so important. In all things, go to your Father and remember His perfect love for you." What powerful words--I go to Him now, to thank Him, to lift Him up, to praise Him. How faithful is my Father to me. Oh how He loves! He is good and full of grace. And as Betty Scott Stam prayed daily, I echo her very words and say, "Lord, I give up all my own plans and purposes, all my own desires and hopes, and accept thy will for my life. I give myself, my time, my all, utterly to thee to be thine forever."

For me to completely abandon one's self also means entrusting it back into the faithful hands of the One who gave me life. To Him be all the praise for ushering me in to a new season with a man after His heart. From glory to glory...

Kobe's got five on it

2010-06-19T20:41:00.000+10:00

Yes, surprise surprise, the best in the game today won the championship--why all the doubt and haters? Funny how the media loves to slam him all season. Funny how everyone wants to focus on Lebron, Shaq, Dwight Howard, Dwayne Wade, Kevin Durant--where are they? None of 'em even made it to the finals. The media didn't even give props to Boston during regular season either--yet Kobe says the Celtics are the most challenging team to beat. I highly doubt next season will be any different.

Why is it cool to hate on Kobe or diss the Lakers? When Kobe first came in the league everyone loved him. I have to admit, I never used to be such a huge Laker fan. I held true to a team in the Bay Area--that is, until someone showed me the light. From that point on, I became a die hard Los Angeles Laker fan. Never thought I'd be so happy to watch them win game 7 from a television screen in my office lunch room in Sydney, Australia.

Still, it is baffling to hear the general population deliberately scoff at one of the greatest players of our day and yet, they consider themselves ballers or basketball fans. Even when Lebron gets asked who the best is today, he says "Kobe."

Until next year's finals, I'm sure the media will continue to praise every other team and every other player except Kobe, as they typically do. Or they'll just overplay his post-game interview statement, "I got one more than Shaq. You can take that to the bank."

Can't deny it--Kobe's gonna get a sixth. And I can't wait to watch it happen.

akaneya japanese restaurant

2010-06-13T18:48:00.000+10:00

Convenient and downright delicious. I couldn't have asked for a better restaurant to live across the street from.

What to enjoy: katsu don, peach ice tea

Is Carrie Bradshaw the new Elizabeth Bennett?

2010-06-06T17:15:00.000+10:00

More and more I'm becoming convinced that the women of my day have become obsessed with the character of Carrie Bradshaw from the HBO hit sitcom "Sex and the City." I could not characterize the world's most ideal 21st century woman in any other way for she is the sole embodiment of it--career-driven, ambitious, fashionable wardrobe, glamorous night life, flirty, care-free, lovable, loyal friend, charming, book-smart but a bit naive when it comes to relationships, selectively promiscuous, a bit contentious and crass when provoked, always learning, and always striving to arrive at self-actualization--all this while living independently in a chic loft in the heart of New York City. She is every bit of the woman young girls and women across the globe long to be.

But why? What happened to the days of wanting to identify with character of Elizabeth Bennett? Do girls even know who that is anymore? She is quite possibly the polar opposite of what women strive to be today--reserved, contemplative, witty and intelligent, patient, acts with self-respect, passionate, attractive with a sense of mystery, exercises discretion, clever, caring, family oriented, dignified.

Women used to want to own up to the character of Elizabeth Bennett but now, as if in some sort of alternate universe, the woman to be idolized is one of promiscuity, a pretty face with a pretty wardrobe, glamorous social life, and hot shoes. What's even more disturbing is that respectable women everywhere are now revisiting their present lifestyles and comparing themselves with that of Carrie Bradshaw's. Happily single and married women are abandoning tradition and embracing a false femininity. Is this what the world is coming to?
Is Carrie Bradshaw the new Elizabeth Bennett?

Foxtel

2010-06-05T21:09:00.000+10:00

This is my one source in Australia for keeping up to date with the NBA Finals.

time

2010-06-05T15:23:00.000+10:00

What is it?
A year ago today I was on my first flight headed to Sydney, Australia. I wake up this morning to find myself living here. How strange for a girl to be living in a city she knew almost nothing about 12 months ago.

I don't know how to feel except thankful. It's all so quick, so bizarre, so new. Now 6 months have passed, the other half of my wardrobe has arrived, and I have just waved farewell to my second house guest.
Who am I?

It's amazing what distance can do. The span of an ocean has every potential to create some sort of chasm in one's persona. Something is lost. Something has been left behind. Some sort of other-ness that can't quite be put in words is still there. On the other hand, there's so much freedom in recreating one's self. A new, revitalized sort of person is unveiled. "No connections"--a very present fear in the days of Jane Austen, and yet, it can almost be liberating to some degree, can it not?

Starting all over again with no fear, no expectations, no judgments cast upon you. And in the midst of your most intense and inexplicable thoughts, someone comes to meet you where you are, allowing you to abandon your seclusion. Ever so inviting, ever so welcoming--at once, you feel at home. But isn't that the place I left 6 months ago?

silent night

2010-05-11T18:02:00.000+10:00

i turned 29 yesterday. or was it today? Jesus is coming back when? how do you predict a specific day when we live in a world with different time zones and besides, doesn't God exist outside of man's measurements? i don't want to calculate the One who made me. in the same way, i don't want to calculate my age.

i felt a strange thing coming yesterday and it didn't occur to me until last night as i prepared to shut my eyes and say goodnight to the dark world outside. when you're away from family, friends, loved ones, everyone and everything familiar--your routines, traditions, habits, hobbies, daily vernacular--it all changes. a shift has been ever so slowly occurring and i've been numb to its existence. last night it took me hostage and i found myself overcome with a woeful longing for home.

your faces, i miss. your hugs, i miss. your voices and eyes full of laughter and mischief, i miss. our talks, i miss. the stupid LA traffic. the even more stupid Orange County traffic. the convenience of shopping at H&M or Target on a weekday after 5pm. Laker games on KCAL9 with James Worthy and the Worthy Spin. Del Taco. the Grove. Whittier friends. Rock friends. fam time.

sometimes i think you just have to let it out. and so, after a beautiful day of being showered with love, i let myself go.

Camperdown

2010-04-02T16:59:00.000+11:00

Today Matt took me out to get eggs benny (benedict) at the cafe in Chippendale where we first met. We spent a good hour deliberating our favourite NBA players over large cappuccinos and a peach ice tea under the warm sunshine and cool Autumn breeze. Jason Kidd, Steve Francis, Kobe, Steve Nash, AI, Jordan, D Howard, Vince Carter, Marbury, Fisher, Rondo, Jason Williams, Derek Rose...

"Steve Nash is underrated."

"Has he ever been MVP?"

"Yeah, I think so. Remember that Nelly Furtado song...is your game MVP like Steve Nash?"

Who knew her lyrics could be so educational.

Afterwards, we drove around to find a local basketball court closer to Matt's place. I told him he's got six weeks to practice before my little cousin Stef arrives and dunks on him.

nicknames

2010-04-01T17:34:00.000+11:00

Having been so far away from my family these past three months, I thought I had temporarily evaded the ever-growing list of nicknames. Not so. Ever since I arrived, the list has continued, but this time by the locals. The Seppo (which means the septic tank which is a reference to the Yank). Jayco. Flayco. Josefeedme. Nosephine. Josoclean. Josomean...

New ones. All the time. And so, I guess I don't feel all that far away from home.

get a feed

2010-03-29T19:25:00.001+11:00

In Sydney, this actually means "get something to eat"--my first instinct upon hearing this phrase was to imagine myself poised in front of a trough of hay, hair pulled back, face forward, waiting patiently in the middle of a barnyard. I suppose when you really think about it, this phrase makes more sense than "get a bite" and "get some grub."

Tonight, we're gonna head down to a local pub in Camperdown with Matt's dad to get a feed. I'm ravenous. I spent my entire lunch hour walking around the city in desperate search of the Commonwealth Bank branch where I made my first rent deposit. What a total nerd. It took me ages to find it and by the time I did, I had to return to the office.

I hope they can't hear my tummy growling from where they are. The toilet in Matt's new place is leaking and they're doing a quick little fix for it in the meantime before a proper plumber can assess it.

Clean up time. Yessssss, I say to myself.

"We gonna get a feed?" asks Doug.

"For sure," says Matt.

saint patty's day

2010-03-17T18:11:00.000+11:00

woke up on time today. i refused to wear green. office was quiet which made for a slow morning. been busy preparing for another trip up to what the locals like to call "BrisVegas" (Brisbane). waking up at 4am is not my idea of fun. two days in a room with a group of water engineers from my company. party time.
tonight, matt and i smashed chicken shnitzels at a local bar in the city. just killing time before our movie date full of lollies (candy for those of you non-Aussies) and root beer (a rare treat in this part of the world). i anticipate much burping in the cinema. green zone, a hot boyfriend, and a sweet tooth--can't get much better than that.
been picking up a few more phrases to add to my daily vernacular. like, "take the piss" and "it's all good mate" and "get stuffed" and "far out" and adding "ay" to the end of my sentences. lately, there's been much discussion around what encapsulates the term "normal."
i like deep talks, especially while sitting on the steps around Darling Harbour. much truth comes alive at night. memories retold and stories unveiled. and i think to myself, what is going to happen come july?

jeopardy

2010-02-07T10:56:00.000+11:00

It's crazy this flesh we live in day to day. I don't like battling it. I often feel my spirit having to fight hard. Sometimes it's difficult to describe how it makes a girl feel...and often, I know it's just my flesh. I don't pretend very well and I've long been in the habit of choosing men who are not trustworthy.

And so, for the first time in three years, I actually felt the freedom to share something deep without the fear of it being discounted, misunderstood, or the entirety resulting in accusations of "Jos, you're being selfish" or "Why are you always cutting me down?" It's difficult for me to eradicate so many of the bad behaviours which have carried over. I feel like I'm still having to sort out what is and is not ok to communicate in a relationship. But really--what is there to sort out?

I always envisioned simple honesty with someone, complete vulnerability with no fear, hesitation or worry. I've never had that--the men I dated always cut me short of feeling anything real and therefore sharing anything real. I would often become another person because the real me was never good enough. I would find myself morphing into someone else's ideal, rather than what God wanted me to be in Him. It was constant jeopardy.

At the same time, my perspectives and views were always chalked up to being some sort of figment of my imagination, some insecurity or issue that was my own to deal with and sort out--in other words, I was made to feel like the crazy, paranoid one. I know it's all crap now but that's the relationship history, environment, whatever, I've just come out of. I thought I had escaped it all but reality is, some of it still lingers.

flattery

2010-02-06T09:47:00.000+11:00

What is it about this little thing called flattery that quickly distracts? In recent weeks, after I had finished describing a funny encounter I had with an attractive stranger, I was asked, "So were you flattered?"

I cringed. That question--I can't seem to let go of it. To this day, I remember how it pricked my heart. But why? What's so wrong with being flattered. Isn't flattery nice? Doesn't it feel good to be accepted or wanted? Isn't it great to receive attention?

Perhaps--but from who? That's the part that made me feel nauseous. Who was I receiving it from? What part of me was able to experience momentary elevation or bliss from someone with whom I have no relation or connection? Something inside me was completely bothered when I found myself confessing, "Yes, I was flattered...even just for a moment." And the truth is, it made me feel sick.

a new fashion

2010-02-02T11:42:00.000+11:00

Only a handful of people in my life really help me see myself through God's eyes. I can't thank them enough for this. I know it can't be easy. Maybe they never asked for this role but truly, this is what they do for me and I am so grateful for it.

With this special handful, I feel as though large mirrors are being help up all around me--forcing me to really see the truly beautiful and truly ugly parts of me. I respect these loved ones so much for being strong enough to do that--to keep holding these up, and essentially to keep holding me up. They encourage me with God's words; they speak truth into my life and they breathe love the way Christ does.

His Word challenges me to look into the "perfect law of liberty"--to see myself as God sees me. To open up His Word and each time, gain a new perspective of who God is and who I am in Him. To discard all the social mirrors I have vainly held on to and to quit looking to others (even myself!) to gauge where I'm at, or to arrive at some seemingly accurate self-perception.

The bottom line is, I can never separate God from reality. His perception of me is reality and His Word is the one mirror I need to be looking at above all others--not the mirrors of my family, friends, loved ones, or society. Like fashion, I need to be constantly refining and conforming each part of me; with every new season, how am I introducing an improved look--one that is more like Him? How am I becoming more Christ-like this summer, spring, fall or winter?

He tells me I am made in His image; He tells me I am His child; I call myself His disciple--so how do I look? Not outwardly, but inwardly--what parts of my heart, my attitude, my mind, do I need to change to fashion myself so that I reflect only His style?

Lately, I've been taking a good hard look into His mirror and have only seen ugly. So many parts of me remain out of season and out of style. Areas of my life have become disheveled and altogether unkempt. My heart is in dire need re-styling.

It's time to clean out the closet.

gross

2010-01-31T14:13:00.001+11:00

ok seriously. i haven't posted in what seems like forever, but it's because i didn't have easy access to the internet--hard to believe, i know.
and as much as i want to post something clever right now, i just can't bring myself to sit here any longer at this internet cafe because the dude next to me keeps seeping out these silent bombs that smell like hell.

one day

2010-01-19T18:20:00.000+11:00

little girls grow up filling their heads
with all sorts of fairytales
books
movies
pictures
cartoons;

at the end of it all
a prince charming appears

but when you grow up
reality often clashes with
happily ever after. . .

sometimes.

2009-12-29T13:47:00.001+11:00

oh Lord
You've been good to me
Your word has set me free
oh and I thank You

oh Lord
You make all things new
You have taken my sin and shame
my life's not the same
I thank You
Father, I thank You

I give you thanks
I give you thanks, oh Lord
Cuz you've been so good to me

*from The Rock Worship

awakening

2009-12-24T01:33:00.001+11:00

Is it possible to experience joy and sadness at the same time? What is this dreadful feeling?

I’m overwhelmed by God’s faithfulness…how He continues to prove Himself right to me. Why have I put Him in that position—to have to prove Himself, when I have made Him my Lord? Why have I not trusted Him with this area of my life and what have I been so afraid of?

Being alone. Not finding someone who I could relate to. Holding on to another him—for years. It seems I’ve been holding on to a story and hoping for a happy ending. I don’t want to spend more time waiting for someone else to change.

As much as I would love to see a changed man, I now have to accept the reality of not being the girl standing beside him in the end. And I’m ok with not being that girl. I’m ok because I know now, that what was spoken to me so clearly, months ago, is really true—God’s promises. His Word is true and more importantly, He is true.

It has taken me five years to recover from the mess I put myself in; to peer through clouded thoughts and series of reasonable excuses.

The crux of it has been the past three years—the constant switch of on and off with a man who speaks of God's will, when actions speak louder than words. Relationships should never embody convenience, preference, indifference, and silence.

And now—to be set apart from it. I’ve never felt such relief nor experienced such immediate affirmation, confirmation, validation. All it took was one day for my Lord to demonstrate to me the full meaning of His promises. Every moment, just when I thought it might go sour, He kept on. Still showing me the fullness of His word—the depth that could exist in a relationship. The fellowship, the openness, the laughter, the discovery of things to be appreciated.

Dialogue—how I’ve missed it so. What is a relationship with silence but my own. All my silly thoughts had been trapped inside a prison to which I was the gatekeeper and he, the warden. When trapped, it becomes easy to forget what characterizes a good relationship—I couldn’t bring myself to look past the barred windows and acknowledge the blue sky.

It was like a flood overwhelmed me—deeply. I couldn’t stop—anticipating, knowing that someone like that does truly exist out there. Someone who is God's best for me.

I can’t believe this is all just good timing or coincidence. As Pastor Jerry has said before, “We serve a God who is too accurate, too precise for mere coincidence.” He has purposed to teach me this, to show me this now and His timing could not be any more perfect. I trust Him to continue showing me His will and His timing.

I have some work to do on my own. Something He called me to do before I left and I have been too scared, too fearful of the outcome—too insecure and pained to know what effects it was going to have on another but mostly, on me...selfish.

His promises are always "yes" and in Him, "amen." And so, I must do this now. It cannot wait until Christmas. I need to know I am starting a new season in God's perfect will. I know that right now, but I am only partially there. I will not fear. I have nothing and no one to fear but God.

the heart

2009-12-21T14:05:00.000+11:00

Whoever it was that said, "Distance makes the heart grow. . ." should've just put a full stop after 'grow.' The direction of which it grows should be constant and the capacity of growing, limitless.

Being far from the comforts and conveniences of home has forced me to face a number of personal fears, many of which I have not dealt with in years. Without family, without solid friends, without connection or fellowship. Here in a city of thousands, I meet face-to-face with complete solitude.

It is right then, when I realize my heart is being prepared to undergo some major reconstruction. The solitude I experience is one which exists only in the natural and never in the spiritual. To be conscious of this vital distinction is to be connected with reality.

This and now may appear to others and at times to myself, as a life without fellowship and without relationship. But is it not the opposite? Is not my purpose to know one truth, One being, to have relationship and fellowship with the One who created me?

With Him alone am I able to experience the full joy and abundant life He has purposed in His perfect plan. It is He who inspires, He who directs, and He who walks and talks with me through the hours of seeming silence. That still small voice transforms into a deep and fluid poetry, speaking words of affirmation to my heart which longs to be identified with something, Someone so much greater.

Distance means being set apart. And so, as I follow the call to be separate from this world, my heart grows fervently towards the only One in whom it can find rest.

jos and the city

2009-12-12T22:37:00.000+11:00

Being in a foreign country is one thing. Being alone in a foreign country is quite another.

Perhaps I've been running on adrenaline for a week, but now that I'm starting to get into a routine, the things which were once familiar to me are becoming foreign and the foreign is quickly becoming familiar.

The strange part is, I am still me--in a new environment. What I've been finding recently is that certain parts of me remain static and other parts adapt. Take walking, for instance. Living in the city requires me to walk to get to work, to pick up groceries at the market, to meet up with friends. Train, monorail, and taxi--my new vehicles for getting from point A to point B if point B is too far to walk. Coming home to no one is a mixed bag for me--sometimes it can feel liberating, just doing whatever; other times, it can be a bit lonely. Right now feels like one of those times.

I'm eating nectarines and vanilla yogurt--something that hasn't changed yet. I'm also up late writing--something which may never change. Realizing certain things about oneself can be like a slap in the face. I've come to realize habits of mine that aren't particularly great. I still put off unpacking my luggage and doing laundry; still despise ironing; still don't prepare clothes ahead of time. But other redeeming habits have carried over like brushing my teeth twice a day, making my bed, and changing my nail polish.

Walking down the city streets in the summertime, I feel comfortable, almost as if I've always lived here. But sometimes when I walk around as if I know where I'm going, I actually have no clue and am desperately trying to find my way back to either Pitt or George Street.

So many wonders to behold in this new city, and I long to share these foreign sites with familiar faces. Soon, I reassure myself, someday soon.

lost

2009-12-02T18:25:00.000+11:00

The plane landed in Sydney shortly after 6AM.
I hastily gathered my belongings, shoving them in
a less than orderly fashion into my carry on luggage
while quickly scanning over row 29 for any other items
that may have escaped me during the flight.

It wasn't until I had claimed my luggage, cleared customs,
and was awaiting a taxi when my recent exodus began
to replay in my head--crap. No way, I thought to myself
as I checked my luggage. Nope, not in there...
definitely not in here...where is it?

Gone--my beloved farewell photo album. Personal notes,
contact information, photos from home--all of it still sitting
in that bloody row 29. Could I be any more heartbroken?

My boss called V Australia to notify them of my black photo
album titled "memories" and ziplocked into a clear bag. They
said they'd contact her as soon as they found it.

I feel sick.

Oz - Day 4

2009-06-08T19:25:00.000+10:00

i decided to take a taxi over to Darling Harbour last night to catch the live jazz and fireworks.
the fireworks were fantastic and the harbour was more than darling. it was packed full of people and music pumping with energy and life. i felt like i was dropped into the middle of a movie set. the only thing i despised was having to play a solo act.

there's something so fulfilling about being alone, and yet so absolutely depressing. sometimes when you finally get what you think is what you want, it isn't what you want at all. God has been speaking a lot to me through His Word about contentment. this morning i was meditating on the verse where He says He came that we might have life, and life "more abundantly."

i fear that many of my own friends, even those who are Christians, do not fully grasp this truth. i don't consider myself an expert on it but i will say that i never understood it as clearly as i did today when the Spirit revealed it to me in a new way. life more abundantly doesn't mean "life with more of my way" or "life with all my dreams coming true"--nor does it mean "life with my own measure of success" and "life with goals fulfilled/accomplished." life more abundantly IS life with Christ! He IS my source of life and because He is my life, i can live this earthly life more abundantly through Him.

how do we miss this huge truth?? day in and day out--we seek our own. we desire our own. we leave Christ out of the picture and pursue our own wants. we are a selfish people, unaware and unappreciative of just how much He is doing for us and what He is accomplishing through us RIGHT NOW. not in 6 months when i get my act together, not in 12 months when i've made it through a less than ideal season, not in 5 years from now when i think i'll have checked off my life goals. God is at work in our situations and is constantly working even if we think we know better or can plan ahead better or whatever our puny little earthly human minds want to conjure up. man--why do we suck so bad? it's like spitting in God's face when we leave Him out of our present circumstances and go without Him. why can't God's Word ever be good enough for us? why do we go seeking other solutions, and hey--scary version: seeking our own solutions??!? He is constantly speaking to us and into our situations through His Word. and so often, that is the last place we look. we look to ourselves, we look to others, and when we have no answer, we look to Christ. don't you remember how JOY is spelled--J: Jesus, O: others, Y: you. we tend to practice it backwards all the time.

i've been confronted with this truth of contentment. being here in Australia to train with the new Corporate Manager for Business Development and Marketing is just a simple testimony that God does not give a rip about what the world says or how they make you feel. He called me into this job/position for which i may appear to not have sufficient experience and knowledge yet, i trust that He will equip me and be with me every step of the way to give me His wisdom and shower upon me His blessings as i place Him first in all areas of my life. God does not want a half-hearted servant. He wants people who are 100%. He is El Qanna--the Jealous God. how dare i share in the world and share in Him when the Word clearly says i cannot serve two masters.

i am here in Sydney as a testimony to you all, my loved ones, my friends--that the God we serve is a GOOD God, a faithful God, a loving God, and a God of wonder. i do not know what He has in store for me. i only know that i can trust Him because He is true.

today i rose at 5am, slipped on my workout clothes and headed down to the gym. ellyptical: 3 miles, bike: 10 miles. showered and got dressed for the day. at breakfast, i made some American friends (students from a university in Chicago) and ended up joining their group for a bit on the ferry to Manly and upon arrival, touring the beaches.

the rest of the afternoon was spent walking around Manly and taking the ferry back to Sydney Harbour where i took a walk to the side opposite the Rocks and visited the Opera House. it was enormous. the tiles on it didn't look like what you would imagine them to look like. thousands of little shapes in off-colour whites, creams, etc. it's pretty crazy.

i am truly spent. it's been a lonnnnng weekend and now it's time to prepare for work in the morning. hoping to meet up with an old family friend after work tomorrow. she happens to live in town.

Oz - Day 3

2009-06-08T09:00:00.000+10:00

Woke up 4:30 AM. Couldn’t go back to sleep.
Breakkie in the hotel restaurant. Sunday church service at St. Andrews Anglican Cathedral on George St. Message convicted me about using my mouth for peace, encouragement, and building others up. Also convicted about contentment and being grateful with where God has me. Good message. I met a sweet lady who introduced me to some people in the congregation and enjoyed “tea” with them after service.

Left before lunch and stopped by the Queen Victoria Building and perused the shops, but mainly took photos. Back to the hotel for a quick costume change since the sun was coming out.

Headed to The Rocks which is Sydney’s historic district and every weekend, they have a farmers market & shopping. I walked through an aboriginal art gallery, found some awesome locally made items for gifts/souvenirs, stopped to eat corn on the cob, and decided to walk across the Sydney Harbour Bridge instead of taking the ferry to Manly.

I’m a bit tired from all the walking and shopping I’ve done today, but I think I still want to catch the John Morrison jazz band performing live at Darling Harbour and see the fireworks at 7:30 tonight.

Off I go.

Oz - Day 2

2009-06-06T19:19:00.000+10:00

Sonia and her husband picked me up from the hotel and we drove to the outskirts of the city to residential area called Chippendale. I couldn’t bring myself to explain the connotation of that name to people in the US. We met up with their son Matty (Mathew) and walked over to a local pub that served breakkie (breakfast). I was delighted to find they had eggs benedict on the menu, which comes florentine style (with spinach) and the option of either salmon or bacon. I ordered my usual (with American bacon), and it was tasty, but the eggs were over-poached.

After basking in the warm morning sun, we walked back to Matty’s place where Sonia toured me up and down some small lanes filled with 100 year old original-built Sydney homes. It was lovely.

We drove to Sydney Fish Market, parked the car and walked up to Darling Harbour. On our way, we stopped in at one of their mate’s homes, who were re-modeling their property and toured around to see their newest upgrades. It was beautiful. I’d never seen such a place before. It was totally original and had a breathless view of Darling Harbour. I enjoyed their company and listened in as they caught up with each other over beers. The husband of the house was proud of his small red pepper garden and offered us to try one. He sliced a bit for me and Sonia to try. It was hot. And it kept getting hotter the longer it stayed in my mouth. It tasted like…like…

“It’s a habanero pepper,” he said.

Who knew I’d be trying my first habanero pepper in Australia??

After visiting their friends, we walked over to Darling Harbour for a quick tour. They’re having a jazz festival this weekend and I hope to catch James Morrison on Sunday night and the fireworks show.

On our way back to the Fish Market to “have a feed” (get a bite to eat), we stopped in at another local pub that Sonia used to frequent when she lived in Sydney. She ran into some old friends: Les and another guy whose name I can’t recall. More catching up over some beers and a bit of AFL (Aussie Rules) rugby. Prior to leaving the bar, I learned to say “where can I have a hey diddle” instead of asking where to go to the washroom (restroom).

At the fish market, I saw the largest amount of fresh fish I’ve ever seen. We ordered fresh prawns and lobster and chips. We joined the crowds outside and sat at the tables near the harbour. It was such a beautiful day.

Before going back to the hotel, we swung by the store to pick up TimTams. So far, they are my favourite Australian treat.

Oz - Day 1

2009-06-06T16:59:00.002+10:00

I walked to the office which was just about 3 or 4 blocks down from the hotel. Met some staff face to face which was, in itself, an adventure. It’s always fun matching people’s faces to their voices—it never matches up the way you expect it to.

In celebration of the Queen’s Birthday, the Sydney office had decided to have a staff BBQ lunch and afternoon drinks on the patio. Prior to lunch, my co-worker Sonia took me for a walk around the city and showed me all the cool places to check out during my stay here.
I was excited, and saddened at the same time, wishing my loved ones were here to take it all in with me.

At lunch, I opted out of the staff BBQ to join my co-workers for lunch at a local pub called Jacksons where they were showing Game 1 of the NBA Finals: Lakers vs. Magic. I didn’t realize how huge the NBA is over here is Australia. Men and women in full-on business suits, seated in front of a huge flat screen TV, drinking and cheering. I had a good laugh.

Back at the office, I tried to catch up on some emails and get a bit of work done. By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, people were wandering out to the patio where staff were crowned with either a gold or silver paper tiara in honour of the Queen. Drinks and light snacks were offered. Sonia and I snuck out early and joined the rest of our co-workers downstairs at another local pub around the corner from the office.

I had fun catching up with new friends and sharing stories about work back home. By 10 o’clock, I had to get back to the hotel. My eyes were struggling to stay open. After a quick brush of the teeth and face wash, I knocked off.

5 June 2009 cont’d

2009-06-06T16:59:00.001+10:00

There’s something different in the air when you arrive in another country. And I’m not being metaphoric—I mean, literally, you can’t help but notice the distinct scent to each country. I’m certain that even the US has one I’m simply immune to and unaware of since that is my country of origin. But here in Australia, one can sense it the moment you exit the airport and inhale that first dose of fresh, non-recycled airplane oxygen. From that moment on, you realize you’re far from home.

I hopped in the taxi. The driver was sitting on the right hand side, and manoeuvring the car on the left hand side of the road. My mind was having difficulty processing the information my eyes were capturing as we swerved through the traffic. It was all backwards and awesome.

The hotel was located directly across from Wynward, one of the major bus stations and a small public park. I checked in and arrived at my room on the 14th floor. It is, by far, the smallest hotel room I’ve ever stayed in. The king size bed takes up about ¾ of the entire space. After a brief inspection, I took note of some of the immediate differences.

Light switches. They are tiny, square shaped buttons which you press, similar to the flat light switches that became popular in most modern homes developed during the late 80s, early 90s. However, to turn the switch on, you press the bottom of the square, rather than the top of it.

Toilet. The water in the toilet is very low, and could mislead you into thinking it is broken. There is no handle for flushing—there is only a tiny square switch similar to the light switch. You use that to flush and you’ll notice the water comes rushing down, spiralling counter clockwise.

Outlets. Like any other country, the outlets are shaped differently. I purchased an outlet converter at a local electronic shop called Dick Smiths.

Shower. There is no full shower door or curtain. There is just one half of a glass pane that is fixed to the shower. It does not slide. It does not cover you. It simply remains fixed.

I decided to get myself together and swing by the office.

5 June 2009

2009-06-06T16:59:00.000+10:00

“Ding!” sang the flight attendant bell.

My eyelids struggled to separate. I finally looked up and much to my surprise, there was Mr. 48C with his fedora-graced head drooped down, eyes shut. He was a strange one, carrying a backpack decorated with colourful, fuzzy looking animals and a huge iron-on patch of President Obama’s face. I took note of his many aged tattoos peering out from the top of his starch-pressed khaki collared shirt. He looked as though he’d weathered some rough times in his life and I imagined he had fought in Nam or something just as tragic. He was a quiet man, but quite helpful each time items escaped me from my shuffling around or moving my carry-ons to/from the overhead bin. The times he was seated, Mr. 48C would watch the screen intently as the graphics showed our airplane flying across the Pacific, making its way closer to Sydney.

The aroma of airplane breakfast must have caused him to rise from his deep slumber. Minutes later we were served with warmed scrambled eggs with peppers and cheddar, small round hash brown servings, strawberry filled pastries, and orange juice.

After breakfast, I decided it was probably a good time to stretch my legs and have a bit of a walk around the plane. I visited the ladies room and splashed some cold water on my face. I stood in the back of the plane and stretched until the captain turned on the seatbelt sign due to turbulence. When I returned to my seat, I immediately fell back asleep.

* * *

Next thing I knew, it was the beginning of our descent to Sydney. The captain’s voice was speaking over the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now approaching our final descent to Sydney. The local time is 5:50 AM and we’ll be arriving in about 40 minutes. The weather is 57 and cloudy with some light winds…”

I began to pack up and re-organize all the things I had taken out of my carry-on luggage. Broke out the journal and began to scratch a few memories.
By 6:24 AM, flight UA 0839 had landed in Sydney. I breezed past customs, gathered my luggage, exchanged currency, and stood in line to catch a taxi to the Menzies Hotel

4 June 2009

2009-06-05T16:59:00.000+10:00

I don’t know exactly what I did on this day except eat and sleep. Because my flight had departed around 10:30 PM the night before, I slept the entire flight and only woke up for beverages and light meals.

I vaguely remember making attempting to watch “Elizabethtown” on the DVD player, but failed miserably and woke up to the credits scrolling down the screen.
Mr. 48C was a restless one, always up and down from his seat. No one was seated between us--another blessing from the Lord. Flying economy for more than 4 hours is pretty crappy, and can be all the more nauseating when your row is full. I had enough space to turn sideways and stretch out my legs. It was fantastic.

3 June 2009

2009-06-04T16:59:00.000+10:00

I arrived at the ticketing booth for United Airlines and checked-in with my e-ticket confirmation number. I waited patiently for my boarding pass. It did not print. The UA ticketing agent asked me for my visa to Australia. I had none. I was totally unaware I needed a visa to get into the country. I thought someone (like my company’s travel agent) would have told me to do so. The UA ticketing agent began to provide me with automated instructions on how to acquire a visa.

“Tomorrow, you need to go to the U.S. consulate in downtown LA and fill out an application and it could be ready for you as early as Monday morning.”

Say what??? I had to calm myself down and say…

“I understand, but what can you do for me right now?”

Fortunately, the agent was somewhat of a nice lady. She immediately contacted the Australian consulate to ask for an “emergency visa” application. Apparently it is only offered to US citizens going to Australia. Had I been from any other country, I wouldn’t have been eligible to apply. So she fills out the questionnaire, I answer a few of the random questions, and we wait patiently for the results.

The agent’s response did nothing to reassure me it would go through.

“They don’t always accept these applications, but there’s always a small chance…BUT they rarely accept it…you’ll just have to go to LA in the morning to pick up an application and there, it costs $50 instead of $25 here which I’ve never understood… and even [at the consulate], they don’t review the applications every day so you probably won’t get your visa ‘til next Monday.”

As she continued to provide me with more visa application instructions, my heart began to sink. Worry and fear began to creep in. I cried out silently to the Lord.

“Lord, please? I know you will work out everything because it is already in Your plan. Please take care of this. You brought me here and you can make it happen. I know you will let the application go through. I trust you will do it so I can board the plane on time.”

I decided to ring my parents.

“Oh hi Miss Australia!” answered the voice on the other end.

“Hi Mom,” I said nervously. “Will you please pray for me? I can’t board the plane unless I have a visa to get into Australia. The agent is filling out an application for me now. Please pray it goes through.”

“Ok honey, we will. I’m sorry, anak, you must be so stressed…”

“It’s ok. I’ll call you later and let you know.”

“Ok anak. We’ll pray for you, ok?”

“Thank you. Love you.”

Click.

About ten minutes of what felt like eternity, a sigh of relief came from across the ticketing counter and I looked up to find the agent smiling.

“It worked! They’ve accepted it! You’re lucky.”

“Oh thank GOD!!!”

How can I praise Him enough? My heart jumped for joy as tears poured down my face. As I skipped through security, I called my parents to let them know and thank them for their prayers. I hurried down to Gate 77 just in time to board my flight.

Seat 48A never felt so comfortable.

the Word to live by

2009-04-30T18:07:00.000+10:00

We live in a world that constantly indoctrinates us with the lie to follow our hearts, our dreams, and our own desires--to arrive at self-actualization.

But the Word tells us in Jeremiah, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?" We are not called to follow our inner desires because God has already told us what would happen to us if we did. We are called to follow God's Word, and our hearts need to be changed by Him alone.

Mankind is not inherently good. We desperately need a God to redeem us from our fallen state. Jesus says in His Word that He came so that we might have life, and that we might have it, what?--"more abundantly." So why do we continue to operate without God? Why do we rely on our own wisdom in pressing situations? Why do we constantly push Him aside in hot pursuit of our personal agendas, instead of returning to His Word to seek out His wisdom for us? Why is it so hard to follow the Good Shepherd and trust Him to go before us in all things?

Do we not trust Him enough? Doesn't the Word tell us "the Lord is not slack concerning his promise"--doesn't He provide all our need? He leads us beside still waters and prepares tables before us in the presence of our enemies. In His presence is fullness of joy--not just joy--fullness of it!

We live in a world full of people who are just following their inner desires and want to pursue nothing more. Have we, as disciples of Christ, fallen into this trend? do I live for myself? Or am I willing to present my body a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is my reasonable service? We are not to be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of our minds so that we may prove what is that good, and acceptable and perfect, will of God.

How do I renew my mind? Everything the Word tells us to do is contrary to what our flesh wants to think and do in the natural. His Word tell us "whatever is things are true, whatever things are honest, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are of good report; if there is any virtue and if there is any praise, think on these things." So I ask myself, what sort of things am I putting into my heart? Are they true, honest, just, pure and of good report? Am I constantly filling myself with these things so that my conversation is only as it becomes the gospel of Christ? For the Word says, "out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks."

We are commanded not only to "study...rightly dividing the word of truth" but also to "preach the word" and to convince, rebuke, and exhort. So what? So life is not about me, following my dreams, following my heart, or pursuing my inner desires. Life is about doing what Christ calls us to do because of who we are in Him.

What are you called to do? His Word is full of direction and wisdom for every aspect of our lives. Isn't Jesus the way, the truth, AND the life? Did not the Word become flesh? Our lives and our words need to mirror Christ's life and testify His Word as truth. Too often we wonder at our immediate future, seeking out our own ways, pursuing avenues outside of what God's Word says.

We fail to go immediately to our One reliant source for guidance, for direction--we neglect His Word and do not allow Him to speak into our daily lives. Every time rely on something else before we rely on God, we break the first commandment. Every time we put something else--whether it be a person, a goal, an object--before or ahead of God, we are saying "God, we don't need you. We need this person, or these situations, or those things, first and then we'll believe you to come through with your promises."

Are we truly disciples of Christ? Let us examine our life purpose--"for me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Christ alone gave us the ultimate words to live by--Himself.

eventful october

2008-11-02T15:07:00.000+11:00

had a cavity filled
went to court for my first ticket
was surprised to find my primary physician was an "Aaron" and not "Erin"
missed the pumpkin patch
distraught from not carving a pumpkin this year
installed kites in my house
cried myself to sleep
attended my roommate's birthday masquerade
started eating trail mix for dinner
visited my mom in the hospital
played tennis with my dad and sisters
felt homesick
worked too many OT hours
took a tour of PR1MARY Color
purchased a purple wig
attended a halloween party in LA
received an awesome book from my Aussie co-worker

mother dear

2008-10-27T20:05:00.000+11:00

hello,
are you keeping your feet up like the doctor told you?
five days feels like eternity, but you'll make it
because with only two more sleeps,
the end is in sight.
perhaps on wednesday, daddy will challenge you
on the tennis court once again but
you will still have enough energy to
chase Boxer around the backyard
before returning him to the cage after sunset.
i miss your warm hugs already
and am counting down the days when
i can see your eyes smiling on your beautiful face.
just a few weeks more until i stuff myself silly with
endless comfort foods and cozy up
in that corner couch where we can laugh
and share stories and peek out the window at Boxer
playing in the side yard. will you have sent me
any text messages before then?
by now, i am confident you know how to send a
text that says, "hi j o p s" or "hi,,,,'.!.."
my stomach still aches from the fits of laughter
during our text session this morning.
i will book that flight tomorrow and i will look forward
to being home again where i can hide away from
the world and cast all my cares out the window
because nothing is quite as satisfying as being
in the arms of one who loves you and loving
them in return.

our generation of voters

2008-10-19T06:04:00.000+11:00

Below is an excerpt from an article written by Mark Alexander entitled, "Presidential Character."

Madison's Supreme Court nominee, Justice Joseph Story, wrote, "Republics are created by the virtue, public spirit, and intelligence of the citizens. They fall, when the wise are banished from the public councils, because they dare to be honest, and the profligate are rewarded, because they flatter the people, in order to betray them."

The Founders thus warned of the perils posed by the candidate who lacks political courage; the candidate who tells us everything we want to hear.

In November 1800, John Adams, in his fourth year as president, wrote to his wife Abigail, "I Pray Heaven to bestow the best of blessing on this house, and on ALL that shall hereafter inhabit it. May none but honest and wise men ever rule under this roof!"

We should all pray likewise, now, today, this minute.

As Adams understood, "A Constitution of Government once changed from Freedom, can never be restored. Liberty, once lost, is lost forever."

Almost two centuries later, Ronald Reagan reiterated, "Freedom is ... never more than one generation away from extinction. Every generation has to learn how to protect and defend it, or it's gone and gone for a long, long time."

So, what of the current generation of voters, and the two presidential candidates?

On 4 November, one of these candidates will receive a majority of electoral votes, and in January, be seated as our next president. But for sure, this election is much more than a referendum on the two candidates; it is a referendum on the ability of Americans to discern between one candidate who possesses the character and integrity of a statesman, which the office of president requires, and one who does not.

At this pivotal moment in our nation's history, let's hope that a majority of us have sufficient courage and character to make that distinction, and vote on what we know rather than how we feel.

Let's put country first.

For the full article, click here.

unplugged

2008-10-02T17:22:00.000+10:00

=[living out of a suitcase...listening to a cd purchased at a favourite used book store...planning events...staying up late...missing you...eating with co-workers...observing the taxi driver's misuse of the blinker...hearing and sharing stories...lacking protein in the mornings...hating politics...loving politics...lacking sleep...washing face...finishing a recommended book...reminiscing about times together...stopping the reminiscing...singing along to Sheryl Crow]

recent addictions:

2008-09-24T17:54:00.000+10:00

beverages served with black straws.
re-arranging furniture.
homemade tuna salad on wheat.
ad-hoc designing.
the Best of Radiohead album.
Australian jargon.
magic shell on Thrifty ice cream.
new season of Dancing with the Stars.
reading the Official Voter Information Guide.
flights to Seattle.
party planning.
pumpkin scented candles.
pretty luggage.
books on CD.