We all come together, 7 young women, in the middle of the week.
To share lives together for a few hours on a Wednesday evening.
From many different backgrounds, but all at similar stages. Young women, finishing study or just out into the work force, without families or couple commitments. Press the button at the door, and the door buzzes open at the same time as a muffled "Hello?" is heard, because they know were coming. We all tend to turn up at the same time, call greetings up the stairs.
Settle down on the miss matched lounges, in the small flat in the inner West. Clearly furnished by parents extras and hand-me-downs from friends, the typical living of people just starting out.
Catching up on the week, laughter, friendly ribbing's, exasperated sighs about things we can't change.
They all drink tea, and I'm the odd one out with my glass of water. They discuss the different blends, allow the tea to seep in two tea pots, one green and the other with blue and white stripes. Someone pulls a sweet treat from their bag, baked if we're lucky, or bought if we ran out of time.
Then we settle down, pull books out of our bags. They all look different but contain the same ancient truths. Some books are small with creases and cracked leather that are falling apart, some have pieces of paper tucked in specific sections, one translation has Mandarin characters alongside the English words.
Heads bow for a moment as we open in prayer. Then the ancient but oh so relevant words are read and discussed. We ask big questions, and don't always have the answers. Opinions are tossed around the room, sometimes agreed with, sometimes puzzled looks follow a comment. We discover truths we hadn't realised before, or had forgotten for a while. Some of us have been reading this book since we came into this word, others didn't even know it existed until a few years ago.
We encourage, rebuke, teach, learn. Always seeking truth and Life.
We've been brought together, to this place, by the Author of this Book.
And He meets us there.
May 15, 2013
May 11, 2013
Wail
There is a little girl with golden brown curls, sobbing her heart out. Barely five, she wails loudly, clinging to her mother. We all feel her pain as we stand around heart broken, and she is young enough to not be ashamed of her sorrow.
Only 2 hours ago the great grandkids had gathered out the front around the coffin. An informal circle. Reached out tentatively to touch the wood. "Pa's in there." they said. They were ushered to their seats by their parents while their minds tried to grasp life and death at the front of the church, as we got ready to celebrate his life.
And now the little girl had suddenly realised they were taking her great grandfather away and he was never coming back. Her father leads the grandsons who carry the coffin on their shoulders out of the church with a faded collection of medals on his chest. Grown men with crumpled faces and vacant eyes.
They carefully place the coffin into the hearse and stand there, while we stay on the steps clutching each other with tears streaming.
I don't think my tears have stopped since we first walked in and I saw the coffin out the front. There isn't sobs, just a steady stream of tears. Shouldn't they dry up some time soon?
I know Pa is happy, and rejoicing with his Lord.
Yet the missing him aches.
Oh God, isn't it time for heaven yet?
Only 2 hours ago the great grandkids had gathered out the front around the coffin. An informal circle. Reached out tentatively to touch the wood. "Pa's in there." they said. They were ushered to their seats by their parents while their minds tried to grasp life and death at the front of the church, as we got ready to celebrate his life.
And now the little girl had suddenly realised they were taking her great grandfather away and he was never coming back. Her father leads the grandsons who carry the coffin on their shoulders out of the church with a faded collection of medals on his chest. Grown men with crumpled faces and vacant eyes.
They carefully place the coffin into the hearse and stand there, while we stay on the steps clutching each other with tears streaming.
I don't think my tears have stopped since we first walked in and I saw the coffin out the front. There isn't sobs, just a steady stream of tears. Shouldn't they dry up some time soon?
I know Pa is happy, and rejoicing with his Lord.
Yet the missing him aches.
Oh God, isn't it time for heaven yet?
May 6, 2013
Full house
Pa had 5 children, 11 grandchildren and 17 great grand children.
Most of them are now here, in my Uncles house, waiting for tomorrow when we say an official goodbye. Add in all the spouses and it makes for one crazy busy household.
Lounges are pushed up against the wall, extra tables and chairs borrowed. There are 4 tables for eating arranged around the house. A queue to have showers. Large communal meals with 10 conversations going at once. So much food that disappears so quickly. Some people I only saw recently, others I haven't see for years. Squeezing past, and accidental bumps. Moving suitcases from one pile to another as we try to find our things. It is loud, and crazy, and overwhelming and beautiful.
It is a testament to Pa, that we are all here. That he made sure he knew all of us, and was interested in our lives. He wasn't a grandfather who sat in his room and only sent cards at Christmas. Each year he did a the tour of all his children spread out around Australia, spending a month or more at each of their houses. He would call all the grandkids at random times, always wanting to know how life was treating them. He genuinely wanted to know.
So we all made the trek, the opposite direction to the one he took. To be with those who knew him best, to remember and to celebrate.
My family, how do I explain it? Even though it might be years between seeing each other, there is a relaxed familiarity. A shared understanding. We know the time we have together is always short so we pack as much laughter and stories and being together as we can.
Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him. Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior's hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them! He will not be put to shame when he confronts his accusers at the city gates.
Psalm 127:3-5
Most of them are now here, in my Uncles house, waiting for tomorrow when we say an official goodbye. Add in all the spouses and it makes for one crazy busy household.
Lounges are pushed up against the wall, extra tables and chairs borrowed. There are 4 tables for eating arranged around the house. A queue to have showers. Large communal meals with 10 conversations going at once. So much food that disappears so quickly. Some people I only saw recently, others I haven't see for years. Squeezing past, and accidental bumps. Moving suitcases from one pile to another as we try to find our things. It is loud, and crazy, and overwhelming and beautiful.
It is a testament to Pa, that we are all here. That he made sure he knew all of us, and was interested in our lives. He wasn't a grandfather who sat in his room and only sent cards at Christmas. Each year he did a the tour of all his children spread out around Australia, spending a month or more at each of their houses. He would call all the grandkids at random times, always wanting to know how life was treating them. He genuinely wanted to know.
So we all made the trek, the opposite direction to the one he took. To be with those who knew him best, to remember and to celebrate.
My family, how do I explain it? Even though it might be years between seeing each other, there is a relaxed familiarity. A shared understanding. We know the time we have together is always short so we pack as much laughter and stories and being together as we can.
Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him. Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior's hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them! He will not be put to shame when he confronts his accusers at the city gates.
Psalm 127:3-5
May 3, 2013
Autumn
This time of year is just lovely to be in Sydney. We are being blessed with one of the best Autumns I remember.
There is a bit of a nip in the air of a morning, enough to warrant an extra few minutes under the covers before I get out of bed. I pulled out my favourite cowboy boots last week to wear one night when I was heading into the city.
But it is still warm enough during the day that I'm not wearing the dreaded layers. A t-shirt has been just lovely during the day and not much more than a cardigan is needed 'just in case'.
I would be more than happy if we kept this weather all winter long, haha. I know that's wistful thinking, but I'm enjoying it while it lasts.
There is a bit of a nip in the air of a morning, enough to warrant an extra few minutes under the covers before I get out of bed. I pulled out my favourite cowboy boots last week to wear one night when I was heading into the city.
But it is still warm enough during the day that I'm not wearing the dreaded layers. A t-shirt has been just lovely during the day and not much more than a cardigan is needed 'just in case'.
I would be more than happy if we kept this weather all winter long, haha. I know that's wistful thinking, but I'm enjoying it while it lasts.
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