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look upon the horizon

We walked out the front door, and he turned to me in excitement. “Look, Mummy, our neighbour, has a new house” I looked out from the vista of where we stood on the porch, and I was puzzled as I couldn’t see what he was seeing.

“Not sure what you mean mate,” I replied with curiosity, and he replied with frustration. “Look, Mum, look, can’t you see it? our neighbour has a new house.”

Puzzled I got into the car, and he shook his head knowing that I couldn’t see what he saw.

The next day, as the sun rose, we stood and watched the cloud rise and the view on the horizon say hello to a new day. He stood by my side and repeated it.

“Mummy can you see the beautiful new blue house that our neighbours have built. It’s a double-decker one, and it is so beautiful.”

Ever since my little man could talk, he loved houses that have a second storey. He believes the higher the house, the greater the view. He likes to see the world at a distance.

I stood there perplexed as I could not get my eyes to see what he saw. I breathed in deep and begged my eyes to see.

Have you ever struggled to perceive something that everyone else is seeing?

It is like your sitting at a table, trying to talk to someone, both of you experiencing the same circumstances, yet each coming up with entirely different outcomes.

As we walk towards a horizon together, trying to find clarity can be difficult and confusing. Irritation can stop us from seeing opportunities right in front of our eyes. We need help sometimes to elucidate the horizon, so we can walk towards the new with courage.

The next morning as we walked towards the car, my little man pointed to the horizon again. “Mum can you see the new house our neighbours have built, it’s blue, it’s a double-decker house, and it’s so wonderful.”

And then in the midst of the very ordinary, I saw and perceived what he was trying to show me Through the cracks of houses across the horizon, in a space previous, now was the most beautiful brand spanking new, blue two-storey house.

A house has been built in front of our yard, straight across the road, albeit behind the house in front, but we had not seen its construction at all.

Every day, I look upon that vista. I walk outside, and I water the plants, I look longingly out to the horizon. I search for the sun setting. Waiting and watching, wondering if rain is going to fall. But I missed a whole house being built in the foreground because I was so focused on the horizon.

My little perceiver, however, danced with delight when he saw our new neighbours abode rise in the distance. He desperately wanted to help me see what he saw.

This story reminds me of how we get stuck in our everyday. We can easily miss what is happening right before our eyes because we are so concerned with the present or our eyes lost in the allure of the future.

Right in the middle, opportunities and houses are being built for occupation, right ahead of our very eyes.

Reflections about perceiving

  1. Often someone in your life can see more about what is happening on your horizon, but it takes humility to stop and listen, allowing them to help you to understand.
  2. Sometimes we can get stuck handling the affairs of the day, the chores and the mundane that we forget to look up and take the time to perceive.
  3. Also, we can be so lost looking out into the horizon, the greater tomorrow, our dreams and goals, that we don’t perceive or see the buildings that are happening in the foreground, inviting us into our next opportunity for tomorrow.
  4. And lastly, we need to take the time to listen, slow and hear what is being constructed right before our eyes, because it may just be the answer our eyes have been searching for.

Matthew 6:22

“The eye is the lamp of the body; so then if your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light.”

Look upon the horizon my friend, there may be something surprising in the foreground, building and you just haven’t seen it yet.

Amanda

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A word for the poets, writers and prophets

“All ye writers and critics who prophesy with their pen. Keep your eyes wide as the time won’t come again”

Bob Dylan

I woke up with a dream of reading glasses being cleaned. A cold morning with a mist of opportunity awaiting the presentness of the day. An old soul picked up a pair of tiger rimmed glasses and breathed heavily on the lens.

A heave of air blurred the looking glass so that a mist of grey filled the glass. Then with ease of knowing the sleeve, soiled with a touch of breakfast, found a clean cloth from his clothing and rubbed the glass clean.

In that one moment, I saw a movement of clarity coming across the seekers on the earth. Moments of presence, opportunities captured and the writers, the critics, the seers and mystics they arose.

“All ye writers and critics who prophesy with their pen. Keep your eyes wide as the time won’t come again.” Bob Dylan

There is something special in this present moment in history. My dream bought such deep inspiration as I awoke from my slumber.

Clarity is coming, my creative friend. Vision to see what has been hidden. Moments of awakening that were designed for those who see. Those who are walking around lost in their thoughts. Moments of perfect synergy, where the words you have been hoping will come, will flood like a waterfall from another place. Another time.

“Then their eyes were opened, and they recognised [Jesus].”

Luke 24:31

An awakening of words and purpose.

A filling of direction and moments of courage that will never come again.

So gather the prophets, the writers and those who long to see again.

Clarity is coming, in fact, she is already here.

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3am poets

I’ve struggled to shake off a shame this week that has left me sitting on the edge of desperation. Something so small, but it has unleashed a deep grief that I didn’t realise had been waiting to erupt.

If you ask anyone who knows me, I lose things all the time. I’m that person who leaves her passport on the shelf in the airport while spraying myself with tester perfumes. I am the girl who goes to pick up the plate I bought to a party and in the next breath gets lost in a conversation with someone, walking out the door without it again.

Leaving things, losing things has been a part of my life for a long time. Words consume me and stories tempt me away from the present.

The thing about Motherhood is that I am constantly juggling the needs of two little hearts, that more than ever my own needs get left on the bathroom floor.

The shame that came to haunt me again this week was those feelings of not “enoughness” and questioning whether I really can do all that I have put my hands up to do.

A simple answer would be to stop doing some things. It seems like an easy fix, but the things I do outside of my home breathe life in a season of so much surrender.

I long for an office, that I can escape to and allow thoughts to flow freely. I long for a handbag that fits everything a writer longs for, without my life toppling out of it. I long for a day when the only person I have to look after is me.

And then when I start to enter this rabbit hole, I feel guilt, shame and selfishness rise to meet me present again.

So here I am again, redefining my not enoughness and rediscovering strength found in the midst of weakness and hoping for a miracle where all the lost things find their way home. Again.

So I wrote a little something for those who maybe feel the complexity of dreams realised like I do…

Hope this finds you smiling and that you skip lightly down the aisle of a shopping mall sometime soon, even if it is for a late night toilet paper run, whilst your littles sleep safely in their beds.

To the 3 am poets

To the 3 am poets and the washing line philosophers. The half-asleep business owners and the miracle making bookkeepers.

To the leaders just having a go and the makers fielding their next mistake. To the artists looking for their possessions because they were lost in their heads. To those who are burdened by the weights of responsibility and the Mums desperate for one moment of peace.

To those longing for a clean house if only in their minds and those who have become parents again to their parents. May inspiration be found waiting in the bottomless hope of your coffee cup.

And a moment of freedom found as you walk the shopping aisle late at night. May your internet speed be ever flowing and your hearts full of wonder, that sometimes the greatest seasons of growth are found in the awakening of imperfection.

Amanda

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Embrace Rest

by Kristy Lee Photography

“Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me,

your High God, above politics, above everything.”

Psalm 46:10

Each Friday while my little girl is in her ballet class I have a forty-five-minute window, that my goal is to write solidly for as long as I can.

Finding the time to write and have quiet in my motherhood journey has been the most significant challenge. Just a few moments of peace. A little breath of calm before I go back to the constant negotiating and boundary keeping.

Recently, I walked into the cafe, after dropping my daughter at her dance class and reached into my bag and realised I’d left my laptop at home. I felt relieved. I took the beauty of a moment to myself, free of shoulds and expectations.

The funny thing is we all have the same amount of hours in a day. We all have the same amount of minutes in an hour, but we all spend them differently.

David challenges my attention when he shouts in Psalm 46: 10 “Step out of the traffic.”

Do you struggle with the culture of hustle in our society today?

Do you sometimes feel like you can never meet the expectations of your task-driven world?

I decided at that moment to extravagantly breathe in deep my long black and my berry muffin. Giving myself a break. I took a moment to feel the beauty of the sun shining through the rain clouds and music in my ears and the taste of strawberry raw. Worshipping my Creator in the midst of doing nothing. We were created to be human beings, not doing.

The rest notes in the music of our lives are the places that bring the most magnificent beauty.

Are you filling your days with so much noise that there is no rest in the orchestra of shoulds?

We are the composers of our every day.

Stop.

Step out of the traffic.

Breathe.

Notice the rising steam off your hot coffee.

Breathe in deep the rain that stings your skin.

And do nothing.

For a moment.

Nothing.

Rest.

Worship him with the sheer pleasure of rest,

And embrace slow.

Amanda Viviers

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Soft Parenting Myself.

He looked down at his school uniform this morning and softly whispered: “Mum we need to tuck it in more, I don’t want to look fat.” We have never spoken this word in our household, so I am perplexed by its presupposition, but I breathed deeply and pulled him close.

“My darling, You are kind, you are funny, you are smart, and you are handsome.”

As this script rolled off my tongue, he repeated the words with me softly. Kind, funny, smart and handsome. Four simple words that I ask him to absorb as we drive into school.

Six years old, a little boy and someone has modelled to him that when he bends over and his shirt billows that he should be afraid of being seen as fat.

Lately, I have seen that compassion and empathy hide in the whispered moments more than the loud declarations.

Many perceive soft parenting as weak, but I am learning moments of acknowledgement and reframing can be the greatest gift to my children in their tomorrow.

The last few weeks have been tense in my heart. Feeling a shift that is difficult to explain, exhaustion still hanging around post-school holidays and generally feeling despondent about the goals I set myself at the beginning of the year.

What manuscript?

Excercise? Smile.

Empathy for those closest, check.

The moment I surrender to the lack of control around my diary and time alone, I start to find my breath again, with compassion for my journey.

How is your mid-year internal soundtrack?

Are you being soft with yourself or has the critic taken residence, handing out shame on every corner?

The whole idea of being soft can interpret as excuses or weakness in the realm of success and achievement. I know that my heart, however, responds in an environment of positivity and surrender. There is a part of me that continues to try to control and keep my heart small.

Softness looks like;

1) Changing the language, we use to ourselves and therefore those closest to one filled with compassion and grace.

Softness sounds like;

2) A cheerleader, on the side of the stage, chanting and believing the best in yourself and others, rather than a cynical “You always do that!” tone.

Softness tastes like;

3) The fresh awakening of water, even though it is not our first choice, it fills parts of our very being that can serve only as nourishment.

Judgement may fit like a glove and might trick us into thinking we are justified in our reaction, but the beauty of a soft response helps us to allow love to change the very fibre of our being.

Can you softly parent yourself?

Proverb 15 says it this way.

“A soft answer turns away wrath, a harsh word stirs up anger. The tongue of the wise commends knowledge, but the mouths of fools pour out folly.”

Little by little, allowing change to be birthed from deep within.

Love leading the way, rather than shame hunting us down and holding us captive.

Choose Empathy

Amanda Viviers