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Unravel and start again

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I spent the whole weekend, knitting myself blissfully a cardigan. I saw an Instagram feed, assured myself that homemade chunky knits were the new black. I stalked Pinterest for a pattern. I spent more money at spotlight than our budget really allows. 

I am normally a renegade pattern user. I start to get the gist and I go off on my own tangent. However this time round, I haven’t knitted for a while so I thought I would go pure pattern mojo. I read it to the letter, I stopped and undid rows that were a little wonky. I gave it my best.

Last night I tried on my pattern perfect cardigan and in my husbands words ‘You could fit two of yourself in that thing.’

It was a Pinterest fail to the extreme. It was so large that my family could have camped under it’s canopy.

This morning I chatted away with my husband and he said you just need to unravel it babe and start again.

Start again.

Gahhh.

How easy is it to put our failures aside and hope no one notices?

The back of the cupboard. The bottom shelf. Sometimes even the sulo bin out of frustration.

One of the greatest lessons as a creative is somedays our pursuits just don’t work and we need to unravel our work and start again.

From the beginning.

Sometimes we need to do that with our lives.

Sometimes we need to do this with relationships.

Sometimes we need to do this with our major work projects.

As painful as it is to unravel, delete, ask forgiveness, start again.

It can be the best thing for us.

We learn lessons.

We move on.

We are humbled.

We grow.

What project do you need to unravel and start again?

What creative pursuit have you let go of because you failed?

Go on unravel it and start again.

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more me less mum.

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‘She knelt on the floor in the shower all but fifteen years young, begging God to allow her to be a Mum, to have a family, someone to hold and call her own. The tears dripped down her face, flushed with the rush of the shower, hoping no-one would hear her sobs. She grasped her hands together and started to say the rosary the only prayer she knew, the only words she could utter. Years later she found herself in the same position of promise. A cry, an act of desperation, praying words just like a conversation. On the floor of the shack she had just bought in the place she grew up. A few steps from the beach, yet it felt miles away from anywhere she knew. Twenty years had passed, long, beautiful, expectant years that she had waited for the promise to come to pass. The echoes of her cries must have shaken the heavens somewhat, because not soon after she became friends with someone, who would become her partner, the father to her children, an awakening of a dream realised.’

These two stories in my life couldn’t feel more fresh today than the twenty five years that have passed since their inception. As a teenager, I prayed and waited. As a young adult I worked and waited, As an adult I tried to not grown cynical and I waited.

Today I find myself in the season that I begged for years to come to pass, yet I am learning more lessons here in my dream realised than anything I could have imagined. I have been reminding myself of this simple principle. Sowing and reaping. Often we associate this principle with financial gain, but I have found it so present in so much more of my life. Words encouragement I sow today, are reaped in my future. Prayers I have sown, reap benefits and promise in my tomorrow. Unforgiveness that I sow in my today, ends in bitterness in my tomorrow. Believing the best in someone today, reaps friendship in my tomorrow.

The list goes on and on.

I have been silenced lately to think about what I am sowing today.

Am I sowing rest, recovery, beauty, letting go, living large in my today, so I can reap the benefit of promise in my tomorrow.

One line I have found floating to the surface is this…

‘More me, less Mum’.

Personally for me, this is about self-care. It is about doing things in my today to benefit my tomorrow. It is reading great articles and books, not necessarily just about motherhood, but about me as a person, about me as a wife, about me as a creative soul.

It is about saying yes to time by myself and accepting the change when it comes rather than feeling guilty.

It means leaving the dishes undone so that I can rest, create or just be, when my children sleep.

It means not losing myself completely in motherhood. This is not a selfish act, I am a better Mum, when I discover who I am outside of the role of motherhood. I am still a writer, I am firstly a wife, I am a communicator. The role of Motherhood is an all encompassing one, but it is okay to walk out of the house somedays without food plastered over my clothes and it is okay to take time to do something for myself, rather than everyone else all the time.

This week I picked up my knitting needles again for the first time in a long time and decided to make myself a cardigan. It has my brain captured. I am learning, I am doing something for myself. Some may call me selfish but I know it’s smart.

When I take time out to discover who I am as a child of God, outside of all the roles, the names, the positions, the obligations that other people place on me. I become a whole person. A centred person. Someone who allows the words of my Father to sow life into my tomorrow rather than the validation of others.

So for now.

This is what I am sowing.

Life

Love

Colour

Intention

Opportunity

Quiet

Forgiveness

Rest

Recovery

To myself.

And out of that place is where I will give to others.

Filling my tank with worthy and good things today, so that my family may reap tomorrow.

How about you?

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Church, it was never designed to…

God, spirituality, hope

God, spirituality, hope

Most Sundays I wake and the first thing on my mind is Church. Not the hipster interpretation of a group of people judging each other for what they wear and how cool their instagram feed is.

Church; intentional, beautiful, broken, often disappointing.

What thoughts come to mind when you think about it?

Old men wearing robes and swinging incense?

Scandals, laced with deeply hypocritical dialogues?

Times when you have trusted people and they have completely broken that trust? or

Moments of sacred contemplation lighting a candle for a loved one?

Music?

Money?

Coffee?

Fashion?

Judgement?

What comes to mind?

The word Church actually means a gathering of people. A community of people seeking God, taking time to reflect on their internal spiritual worlds and encouraging one another to look outside of that introspective place.

Sundays make me think about my people, my faith, intentions, opportunities, forgiveness, forgetting or trying to do my best to let go at least.

Church is not;

a set of rules,

an obligation,

rituals,

make believe,

a crutch for the weak,

a costume that you wear.

Lately I have been consumed with seeking the new.  New days, new ways. Echoes in my heart over and over.

What is next? What needs to be left behind? What is religion? What is real?

In my pursuit of truth, I don’t want to lose sight of what is good, what is meant to be hard, what is beautifully incomplete.

Church.

It will never fulfil every desire, it will never be perfect, it will never satisfy you, because it was never designed to.

It was designed to make you hungry.

It was designed to make you seek.

It was designed to make you hope.

It wasn’t designed to give you all the answers because people can’t, only One who is greater can do this.

Church, its not just something I do with my friends (as much as love to)…

It is brutal. It confronts. It makes me feel awkward. It hurts.

It also heals, it reforms, it refreshes, it challenges, it brings new life.

Church; People, questions, seeking, hoping.

It is the hope of the world.

Fallen.

But designed to be free.

If your experience of church has been broken, you are not alone. Don’t throw away the deeply sacred journey of doing life in community because it doesn’t satisfy all your needs.

It was never designed to.

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jump puddles in your nightie

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This morning rain came to our seaside home for the first time in months. Waking to the sound of rain and the warmth of my doona was a gift for this tired mumma this morning.

My son came softly into our room telling us the sun was up and there were puddles to be conquered. ‘Rain has come mum. Can I put my chicken boots on?’

You see he has this pair of gum boots that he only wears when he visits his Nan’s chickens. Today he connected the boots and the rain, ready to explore.

Boots were thrown on, rain jackets peeled over and the puddles became his playground.

‘Take a photo Mum, take a photo.’ but I was only in my nightie and hadn’t even managed a coffee yet. The milk was off, the coffee machine sat ready and I picked up my camera.

Some days, you just need to capture moments that are right in front of you. Making brain pictures of your less than perfect, immeasurably beautiful life.

Running around half naked in the rain with your three year old makes the most perfect start to our weekend.

What memories are in your today that you might be missing?

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friday faffing

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We went on our annual pilgrimage yesterday. We packed our lunch, the boys jumped on the train and the girls jumped in the car and we set our sights on meeting at the other end of the city.

We journeyed towards a place that needs a day set apart to visit and be overwhelmed by its storage and interior designing nick nacks.

Its the kind of store that you go in thinking that you will just get a couple of needed things, like photo frames and a new duvet for winter and you walk away with two trolley’s full of items you absolutely need.

Our destination was IKEA.

From photo frames, to new rugs, a whole new set of plates and gift tags, our car was brimming with bits and bobs to make our little abode much more organised and homey. A memory I will never forget, is the moment my little Maximus realised he has now turned three and is allowed to be  checked into little people’s land. He ran inside to discover all the new and wonderful toys and walked up to the glass wall and waved goodbye with ‘See you later Mummydaddy’ (he often joins our name together like we have only one name).

He was so excited and so were we until we had got half way through the maze, with a quick phone call saying ‘Mr and Mrs Viviers, Maximus has told us he is very sad, very sad indeed and wants his Mummydaddy to come back.’

Days full of firsts,

Beautiful moments I don’t want to ever forget.

So we made it through the maze with a seven month old, a three year old, a body builder and a writer all in one piece and we happily ate meatballs, chips, salmon and salad.

The adventure was complete.

Back to the train for the boys and the car for the girls. Team V, were sure there friday faffing was complete.

When we got home and opened the doors of our house already exhausted, we remembered with all things ikea purchasing the bits and bobs was just the beginning. Our friday faff had only just begun.

So screw drivers bounced and paper, plastic and culling began. Our little shack was given a post holiday makeover. Aunties and friends were called to come and collect little treasures we knew only they would love. Paintings were removed, plates were given away and new photo frames with gifts were hung.

Exhaustion reigned,

Take away thai was ordered.

A little drink was poured and the two heads of team v, sat and celebrated family life with two cherubs asleep and a house in absolute disarray.

I love friday faffing with my man.

Something I never want to grow tired of.

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