Recently I have been stirred up about justice, for many reasons.

I went for a walk down by the river at sunrise last week and saw many homeless people sleeping out on the grass. Most of them had someone to snuggle up next to, and there was one large family with children. I couldn’t help but think that this was how Jesus lived, at times. He had no place to lay his head.

The large family I saw sleeping on the grass were likely of aboriginal decent, based on my admittedly superficial view of the tops of their heads. The natives, called aborigines here, were displaced from their land generations ago by the brutal force of colonization. Now colonization is nothing new or surprising in the least. Some may argue that conquest is in men’s genes. But what is appalling to me is when the name of Jesus is in any way attached to this conquest.

Here’s the bitter reality of what happened in Australia. If you Google “Stolen Generation facts” this is what you find:

“Between one in three and one in 10 indigenous children were forcibly removed from their families and communities between 1910 and 1970. – The children were at risk of physical and sexual abuse in institutions, church missions and foster homes.”Feb 12, 2008

The church was right alongside the government in this injustice. That’s what makes me sick.

Now the way Australians are trying to right this wrong is noteworthy. Many acknowledgements of the injustice are very visible to outsiders like us. For instance, all the talks Chris has heard on campus have begun with a statement acknowledging that these lands were forcibly stolen from aboriginal people. Many individual houses in our neighborhood have signs in their windows acknowledging the injustice. The government also gave millions of dollars to the victims of the stolen generation. It’s respectable to put your money where your mouth is, but I can also see Jesus teaching his disciples that the widow’s penny outshines what the wealthy will never miss. You can’t buy dignity.

There is a beautiful memorial wall in Muskgrave Park that teaches all the aboriginal names for places around here. I find it ironic, because I’ve also heard that it’s unsafe to be near that park at night because many aboriginal people hang out there.

Chris and I have started listening to a new book called Reconstructing the Gospel: Finding Freedom from Slaveholder Religion by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. It’s exposing the way the church in America has perpetuated racial injustice since the start of slavery in America.

I am so thankful for this book in a very personal way, because I feel like I have been trying to rationalize all the awful things that have been done in the name of Jesus for decades and have never found any peace with it. Things like The Ku Klux Klan, comprised of church going white men, who tried to undo any dignity gained from the government with unimaginable hate crimes against African American individuals. And the assimilation of Native Americans, essentially the same as the Stolen Generation in Australia, that stole children from families to Christianize them. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.

I know that all these injustices are wrong, and yet I haven’t wanted to denounce or badmouth the body of Christ, so I have quipped some pretty lame things about everyone being sinful, while wrestling with how on earth this could happen. While it’s true that we are all sinful, this book is showing us how much of what Jesus was doing was reconstructing the religion of his time, calling out injustice. The church in America is undoubtedly in need of reform, and it gives me hope to hear a white pastor from the South working so hard to show us our racial blindness.

When I admit that our religion needs a complete overhaul, yet again, just like the religion that Jesus unashamedly criticized, I can finally dare to look at some of these awful injustices without feeling bad for being critical of the church.

This week I have seen infractions that my children have made on each other spiraling quickly into defensiveness. I jumped in and said, “Hold on a minute. The ONLY productive thing you can say to start this off is ‘sorry’!” Of course I need to learn it myself too, but I feel like this scales up to all these cultural injustices. It’s easy to say, ” I had nothing to do with it.” But it leaves victims stuck in their pain when we don’t acknowledge it with anything more than defensiveness. There is much that needs repented of, as a nation, as the people of God. In the Old Testament it seems like God was often, if not usually, addressing his people as a community, not individuals. This is hard for us to understand when our American culture is so steeped in rugged individualism.

Another thing I have been grappling with lately is how the Word of God can so easily become a weapon in our sinful hands. It’s scary how right people feel they are in these awful injustices. And it’s scary how I can kind of understand it. My own husband has noticed that more time in the Bible doesn’t always make me a better person. He’s not just talking about how I feel about myself, as I see my own sin. He has valid criticisms of how I treat people that I have to face.

I am just beginning to examine this, but I have little glimpses. This is what it might look like: I check out when my kids just want to talk to me about video games because I impatiently label their pursuits as worldly, or I get overly frustrated with my husband because he is not spending his time in ways I think would be better. When I am sitting in the midst of God’s ways, I have a lot of trouble not applying my limited interpretation of them to others more than myself. The fault is obviously with me and not God’s Word, but it is a real problem that sadly helps me understand how people use the Bible to abuse.

I have been musing about this image. God’s ways, revealed through his Word, are like the ocean, and I have this little jar that I am running around trying to catch some of it in. When I catch some I want to share it! But my desire to share is a complicated thing. It is partly honest love and excitement, and partly insecurity, or needing others to share my excitement, which is, in fact, a lack of faith. I am saddened by the reality of how hard it is to truly love and invest in someone who does not share my core worldviews. I am fascinated to learn about new ideas, initially. But fascination is hardly love.

John Wimber, an ex-rock star who started the Vineyard Church movement, said, “The Bible is the menu, not the meal.” This has helped me to remember that the Bible shows us the kind of relationship God wants to have with us. It’s an invitation into an incredible, living relationship. When I think of it that way it’s a little bit harder to abuse people with it. And a little bit easier to pray that those I love will embrace the invitation, on God’s terms, not mine.

I have also been re-reading one of my favorite books of all-time, If You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence, and Spirit by Brenda Ueland. There’s a long quote she shares from Vincent Van Gogh that I feel touches the heart of injustice and its cure.

 

“Because there are two kinds of idleness,” he wrote to his brother, “that form a great contrast. There is the man who is idle from laziness, and from lack of character, from the baseness of his nature. You may if like take me for such a one…

Then there is the other idle man, who is idle in spite of himself, who is inwardly consumed by a great longing for action, who does nothing because he seems to be imprisoned in some cage, because he does not posses what he needs to make him productive, because the fatality of circumstances brings him to that point, such a man does not always know what he could do, but he feels by instinct: yet I am good for something, my life has an aim after all, I know that I might be quite a different man! How can I then be useful, of what service can I be! There is something inside me, what can it be!

This is quite a different kind of idle man; you may if you like take me for such a one. A caged bird in spring knows quite well that he may serve some end; he feels quite well that there is something for him to do, but he cannot do it. What is it? He does not remember quite well. Then he has some vague ideas and says to himself: ‘The others make their nests and lay their eggs and bring up their little ones,’ and then he knocks his head against the bars of the cage. But the cage stands there and the bird is maddened by anguish.

‘Look at the lazy animal,’ says another bird that passes by, ‘he seems to be living at his ease.’ Yes, the prisoner lives, his health is good, he is more or less gay when the sun shines. But then comes the season of migration. Attacks of melancholia, –‘but he has got everything he wants,’ say the children that tend him in his cage. He looks at the overcast sky and he inwardly rebels against his fate. ‘I am caged, I am caged, and you tell me I do not want anything, fools! You think I have everything I need. Oh, I beseech you, liberty, to be a bird like other birds!’

A certain idle man resembles this bird…A just or unjustly ruined reputation, poverty, fatal circumstances, adversity, that is what makes men prisoners…Do you know what frees one from this captivity? It is very deep, serious affection. Being friends, beings brothers, love, that is what opens the prison by supreme power, by some magic force. But without this one remains in prison…

And the prison is also called prejudice, misunderstanding, fatal ignorance of one thing or another, distrust, false shame…But I should be very glad if it were possible for you to see in me something else than an idle man of the worst type.”

 

I share this long quote just as Brenda Ueland did so you can hear his voice. What I love about this is that she did not share it to evoke pity for Van Gogh. He was in fact scorned by most as a mad man, and suffered from malnutrition. His paintings were not appreciated until after his suicide. But you can hear his struggle to hang on to the dignity of human life in the face of injustice.

When I first read this it felt very personal. I wanted to say this to the world on my own behalf, that ‘I should be very glad if it were possible for you to see in me something other than an idle woman of the worst type’. I am a spoiled rich girl, but I know something of the cage of false shame that keeps us quiet. And of the love that frees us. Van Gogh is speaking so honestly that it struck a deep chord in my own heart. I believe most of us long for this kind of grace from one another, no matter what our circumstances.

What I love about Brenda Ueland is that she shared this quote to illustrate that everyone has a dormant poet inside them, including Van Gogh. She was not lamenting the tragedy of his life, but giving dignity to it. She believed that, “everybody is talented, original, and has something important to say,” and she gave her life to proving this. She was a rich woman too, who worked passionately to teach caged birds to sing, whatever their circumstances.

One of the saddest things I have encountered in Reconstructing the Gospel is a single comment revealing that many in the church criticized Martin Luther King, Jr. and the leaders of the civil rights movement for abandoning their spiritual calling. The meager juvenile reading I have done about the movement and its leaders has been a light to my soul. They were not merely standing up for their own rights, but for the dignity of each person. They fought hate with love to free their enemies from racial blindness as much as to free their fellow African Americans from injustice. The folk songs of the civil rights movement, sung by interracial groups, stir my heart more than hymns in church.

I was glad to leave the current mess of our nation behind when we came here to Australia. Politics being the obvious mess, but I am speaking mostly of the mess in the church. Yet today I found myself telling a young woman I met at the beach that I am eager to return and dive into the mess however I can. I care a lot about what’s going on back home.

I agree with Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, that these interruptions from Jesus, in the form of “the least of these,” are what can save us from religion. It’s actually something I’ve been mulling over for quite awhile. Because I hear Jesus warning me that many will come up to him on judgement day wanting to impress him with all they’ve done in His name. And he’s going to say: Get out of here. I don’t know you. All you did was use me to make yourself feel important.

I really don’t want that to be me.

James, Jesus’ brother, defines real religion, the kind that passes muster before God, as this: to reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight and to guard against corruption from the godless world. I am beginning to think that this is not a list, but an interdependent relationship–that the way to actually guard against corruption from religion, or our own appetites, or whatever else corrupts, may be to reach out to those caged by injustice. Not to offer our way of life, but because we need each other by design.

The Psalms have held much deeper meaning to me as I have been exploring song writing. i can see them as songs, expressing the depths of human emotion, but anchored in God’s goodness. I have also been recalling that many of my favorite camp songs are based on Psalms. So i am trying my hand at writing songs from the Psalms too. Psalm 116 has long been one of my favorites, because, like David, I love God because he hears me and wants me to call on Him.

Here’s the song. I am hoping to get an audio recording up soon so you can hear the tunes.

 

I love you, Lord, for your hear my cry

You turn your ear, each and every time

So all my days, till my dying breath

I will cry out to you

 

I’ve been strangled by the enemy

Felt the weight of sin crashing over me

Overcome by life, nearly drowned in tears

I cry mercy, mercy, mercy

 

Chorus

So be at rest my soul for the Lord is good

His compassion is our protection

He saves the ones in need (repeat)

 

You O Lord have delivered me

From heartache and sin

From fear and death

Now I walk freely in your land

You can save me from any man

When I’m hurt I will call on you

Sweet mercy, mercy, mercy

 

Chorus

 

How can I return your sweet love to you?

I’ll call on you like you want me to

I’ll keep my word to your people too

Sweet mercy, mercy, mercy!

 

Chorus

 

I thank you Lord, for all to hear

You’re so good to me, I want all to hear

For you hear our cries when we call on you

You turn your ear with a heart of love

So all our days, till we see your face

We will cry out to you

 

 

Here’s a couple songs I’ve written lately. It’s becoming somewhat of a passion, and way of handling life.

Songs are for Heartaches

I don’t have to cry

Just cause my heart is breaking

I can take the pain instead

And throw it out the window

But then it might hit

Some innocent person

So I put it in this song

 

Cause songs are for heartaches

Like shade is for summer

Like fire is for cold nights

That beat at my door

 

Your silence is chilling

Like frost on the window

That’s trying to get in

To turn my heart to ice

But I won’t let it get me

I’ll fight back these lies

That you don’t love me

Or care at all

 

Cause songs are for heartaches

Like rain in the desert

Like water for the thirsty

Who hunger for love

 

Whether you will admit it

I know you hunger too

It’s a cavernous stream

In each one of us

But songs can unearth it

Uniting our heartache

On this deep riverbed

 

Cause songs are for heartaches

Like I am for you

Like you are for me

No matter how it may feel

 

Somday we’ll get through this

The kids will be grown

The bills will be paid

And the work will be done

Then we’ll sit by the fire

And listen to songs

That unearth the heartache

In each one of us

 

Cause songs are for heartaches

Like shade in the summer

Like fire on a cold night

No matter how cold

And songs are for heartaches

Like rain in the desert

They quench dusty hearts

Like nothing else can

Songs are for hungry souls

Trying to stick together

To hang on through all this

And find our way home

 

Desert Wedding

You chose the desert

Over a bed

You defeated temptation

To give me your strength

So why do I sit here

And long to be noticed

When you’ve been here the whole time

Calling my name

 

For you brought me here

And you hear my cry

You’re familiar with hunger

Not afraid of thirst

Lord help me remember

That you loved me first

 

You say I’m your bride

Not in some flowery way

You wed me in this desert

At the end of myself

Where I’m stinky and sweaty

And oh so thirsty

To show that your love

Is not about my beauty

But about your promise

To never let me go

 

For you brought me here

And you hear my cry

You’re familiar with hunger

Not afraid of thirst

Lord help me remember

That you loved me first

 

We were wed for a purpose

Not just to embrace

But to bear children

Who know they are loved

So forgive me for longing

For so much affection

When you’ve given your promise

Your word is enough

 

For you brought me here

And you hear my cry

You’re familiar with hunger

Not afraid of thirst

Lord help me remember

That you loved me first

 

It’s a wonder you call me

Your beautiful bride

Now my tears wet your feet

You’ve forgiven so much

 

They’re still kind of works in progress. I definitely don’t have a solid tune or complete picture on the second one, but I thought I’d share anyway.

 

The message yesterday on Matthew 10: 26-33 cut to the quick in a powerful way. It is giving me such hope that I want to share. Jesus is talking to his disciples as he sends them out, like sheep among wolves, expecting persecution.

“So do not be afraid of them. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Whoever acknowledges me before men, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven. But whoever disowns me before men, I will disown before my Father in heaven.”

Wez unpacked it in a very helpful way, looking at the warranted fears Jesus is addressing of slander, violence, and a disinterested, distant God. As to slander, Jesus reminds us that the truth defends itself. In the end God’s reality will clear up anything said against us. As to violence, well, fear of God is the only cure for the fear of man. And then Jesus, I think knowing what a hard thing he is asking of mortal men, reassures us of his presence and care for us with this unbelievable picture of intimacy that no human could attain. Every hair on our head is numbered, not known because God is all powerful, but numbered because he cares to know us so absurdly.

Now i am in no way threatened by persecution and this reality of how far I am from courage pierced my heart. God is showing me how much my fear of man is crippling my ability to share His love in very practical ways. For instance, when I fear rejection from my children I do not discipline them, or pursue them, as love requires. When I fear rejection from my husband I cannot see the ways God desires me to love him. The fear of man is the primary way the enemy puts me in a little box and sits on me, then laughs at how easy it is to take me out.

As soon as I look at Jesus I realize that my sense of entitlement is what’s feeding my fear. If I am entitled to children and a husband who love me as the Bible exhorts them to, then I have much to lose when they don’t. But there is so much freedom in the fact that I am not entitled to anything from sinful man. If they slandered and killed my Lord, why should I expect to be treated so much better? Jesus is spelling it out plainly that if we are really going with him we should expect the worst from other people, but hope in his inconceivable love. The greatest gift we have to offer each other is forgiveness. When we don’t we cut ourselves off from God’s, and here lies something to be afraid of.

I am feeling freer than I have in a very, very long time.

Paola also encouraged me greatly today to be thankful for the space I have to invest in my children right now. They’ve reached an age where I often feel unwanted and in the way, if not completely overwhelmed, because my primary job seems to be expecting better behavior and giving them more responsibility. When things are hard I am tempted to pull back and sulk, or find something other than parenting to make me feel useful, but today I am refreshed and banking on this promise in Galatians 6:9

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

Also, here’s a beautiful song we sang that is sinking into my heart:

 

 

The older three boys started school here at the West End State School last Friday, August 24th. I have some pictures to help share this awesome opportunity. The boys are all loving it and eager to see what each day there will bring, as it’s still their first week.

This was Friday, right outside our front door. You can literally see the school from the sidewalk. It’s just down the hill!

This was Monday morning, because I had made them stare into the sun Friday and wanted a second chance. Their uniforms are very comfortable and practical for school uniforms! It’s kind of a fun community building thing, because we see kids wearing them all around the neighborhood.

The hats are required for them to play outside, and they spend a lot of time outside! The whole grounds are open air. The school covers a couple city blocks and plans to expand into the police station in the next block over soon. The first day Stewart’s class was heading out to the field for a run first thing. And Monday when I picked up Lewis he was getting a lesson in Australian Football League. They already have two built in breaks to eat, in the open hallway, and play. Stewart’s class is also receiving dance instruction. And Lewis gets to take foreign language. There are 46 different languages and cultures represented by the students and staff at the school, and it is very fun to hear the different languages spoken at the crossing by the school each day.

This is the sand pit in the center of the prep classes. Prep is what we call kindergarten, and kindergarten here is what we would call preschool. The prep kids also have their own separate playground, and a somewhat isolated campus.

Here’s Wesley’s class first thing in the morning. Can you spot him? The other boys are a bit too old to be up for many pictures. But this is Wesley’s first all day school experience, so there’s a lot more grace for a camera happy Mum.

Wesley is doing great at school. It really snuck up on us, because when we applied on Monday we were given an “interview” on Thursday, not knowing what the outcome would be. But it turned out to be a formality where they were outfitted with uniforms and met their new classmates! So they came home telling me that they would start the next day! We also learned from the person at the uniform shop that new kids start literally every week at this large inner city school.

Stewart was very concerned about starting after the year had begun, but he is definitely not concerned anymore. I think he is really enjoying the new experience. The other day, it was actually Thursday before the school interview, he told me that he was born at the right time. When I asked him what he meant, he explained that he was glad that he was born early enough to come on this trip to Australia with Chris and I.

So Lewis and Stewart are appreciative of the opportunity to try a new school experience, but Wesley didn’t get a lot of ceremony about starting kindergarten, which I think he’s okay with. He enjoys being there clearly, and is the very predictable puddle when he comes home. I am working on getting him to bed at 6:30 like we did with his older brothers when they started kindergarten. He may be getting sick already, another predictable rite of passage into kindergarten. I will be happy to have him home to rest up and snuggle.

This is Twill and me Monday on our big adventure to find school supplies. That has proven to be the most challenging thing about school in Australia so far. The specifications are unbelievably complicated, and the school year started back in January. So our efforts at the stores Friday and Saturday were nearly fruitless. We had to take the bus out to the warehouse that supplies our school Monday.

It was a fun time with Twill though. He loves to ride the bus! We were going to head out for the morning, but didn’t get back until 2:30, barely in time to get the boys from school at 3pm. So we had lunch at a little lunch counter, literally the only thing around out among warehouses and a steel mill. I got an Australian burger, complete with beetroot, that I enjoyed a lot. But Twill didn’t want anything to do with it.

Twill is finally settling after a quiet day at home alone with me yesterday. When we get home from walking the boys to school he is amazed, and visibly thankful for how quiet the house is. We got him some play doh Friday and he was content staying home and playing with it for hours. We also got him a toddler seat for the toilet and he is warming up to it nicely. He does want to go to school like his brothers, someday, and knows that he has to learn to use the toilet for that to happen. But for now I feel so thankful for the quality time with just him. I feel like he has been waiting, not necessarily very patiently, for it for three years.

So that’s some first impressions on school here. I am so thankful for the chance to be there and meet other families. I have already met one friendly mum who’s son is in Wesley’s class. She is from Korea and her husband is a New Zealander. They met in Japan. Chris has already been teasing me about reverse discrimination, because I am so fascinated by other cultures.

My favorite thing about Soujourn Bible Church services is that there is a time for questions and open discussion after the sermon. The sermon isn’t a performance, but Wez explaining the Bible passage as an educated storyteller. Both of the weeks we have been I was very much encouraged by the discussion that came out of other people’s questions.

The first week we had covered the passage where Jesus calms the storm for the disciples of little faith. Dylan asked what I have always wondered: Are we not supposed to cry out to Jesus to save us in the storm? And Wez helpfully explained that there’s a difference between crying out with confidence in Jesus’ ability to help and crying out in anxiousness, focused more on the storm.

I was in my own little storm the first week we were here. I want to be honest, even dreams come true are not all roses. Our children were unraveling behaviorally and I felt helpless and frozen to do anything about it. I was unravelling from all the uncertainty and unsettledness. Our marriage was unravelling from parenting stress. There were moments where I wondered what I had done bringing us here. The stress was feeling like too much on our family’s relationships, and I had envisioned it drawing us closer!

So this was just the thing I needed to hear, to keep my eyes on Jesus, who is able to calm this storm, and all others. And He totally did through the generosity of real people, the Coffey’s! I can’t tell you how different and calm we are all feeling this week, like we’re grounded again. It really was a miraculous calming of our storm when we decided to stay here with them.

This last Sunday we looked at many places where Jesus healed people in Matthew 9. Wez reminded us that it’s Jesus who heals us, not our faith. Someone asked what we can take away from all these varied responses to Jesus. Some were skeptical and disbelieving, some were disobedient after they were healed. Wez said that we need to be careful to let Jesus have authority in all areas of our life, not just some.

This really convicted me, because honestly I have no problem believing that Jesus can heal us physically, raise the dead, cast out demons, and do all the things he did in the gospels still today through prayer. But it occurred to me that lately my faith is limited somewhat to what’s been recorded there. For instance, I believe he will provide for us, as he does for the birds of the air. But I have a really hard time believing he can heal my broken family relationships.

I wish there were accounts in the gospels of Jesus healing marriages or parent-child relationships. Honestly I struggle with the fact that Jesus was never married or had kids. He even seemed to have somewhat distant relations with his mother and brothers during his ministry. But this is no excuse for not giving him authority over these relationships. I only suffer for it.

At the end of Matthew 9 is the real reason why I want to give Jesus full authority over all my messy relationships. It’s because his compassion is big enough to heal it all, regardless of whether he lived it or not. “When he looked out over the crowds, his heart broke. So confused and aimless they were, like sheep with no shepherd.” How can I not see myself in there and lean into that compassion?

I am so thankful to be in a community that encourages questions. And I am so thankful that God welcomes them too. It wouldn’t really be faith if we had all the answers.

Before Chris and I got married he was rather enthusiastic about a teaching, or lifestyle, he learned from the pastor of Heartland Vineyard. The basic idea being that people are treasures in heaven. When Jesus says don’t store up treasure here on earth, but store it up in heaven, he’s talking about investing in people, not things.

Anyway, I want to introduce you to the incredible treasures we are blessed with already here in Brisbane.

This is Paola and Wez Coffey. Wez shares a name with Wesley, though they might spell it a bit different. These two are a beautiful example of this idea of treasures in heaven. They clearly enjoy spending their lives on the people they treasure, and aren’t picky about who God brings them, as evidenced by how well they love us. I am so thankful for the chance to know them and learn from them.

This is Wez and Paola’s daughter, Becky. She is studying at uni, loves kids and climbing trees still. I tried to get a picture of their son, Sam, that day when we were climbing trees, but he was too high for a recognizable shot.

This is Katie and Clayton McIntosh at a park they took us to, after feeding us brunch, the first weekend we were here. Clayton is my friend Kylie’s brother. Kylie is a dear friend who I met when I studied abroad here in Australia 16 years ago. She’s been over to the States to visit us nearly a handful of times and I still haven’t visited her, but I am making my way there slowly!

But Clayton is not just Kylie’s brother. He was a great friend before we ever landed, because he took the time to get to know us over email this year. He loves drawing, and teaching kids about it, so he was sending our boys drawing kits last winter. He’s been very helpful with many things, like connecting us with the Coffey’s, but most of all he’s been a friend. When I was here 16 years ago I learned that many people will be friendly to a foreigner, but a few will truly be your friend. In my experience there are a lot of Australians who excel at friendship.

This is Clayton and Chris doing a programming lesson last weekend. It was fun to see Chris get to teach a bit. I am thankful that he gets a break from the intensity of it back home, but he clearly loves it still. It was fun to have Clayton as our first guest in our new home.

This is Andy Yeh, the man Chris is collaborating with at the Queensland University of Technology. They met online and agreed it would be fun to work together, so Andy got us all visa sponsorship.

The day after we got here we walked over to the campus to meet Andy. What is about an hour walk turned into 3 hours as we got to know our way around. But it was well worth the hike. Andy was very kind to the boys and welcoming. We went to get lunch together when we got there. The kids were holding it together very well for being so tired and hungry. So we got them some pizza, and Andy insisted on getting them “juice,” which turned out to be some of the best smoothies I have had.

Andy and Chris have hit it off very well and he wants to have our whole family over for the weekend soon to show us around. We are looking forward to getting to know them!

The diversity is something we are relishing here. Wez is from Ireland, Paola is from Chile, Andy is from Taiwan. But they are all Australians. There are 46 different languages and cultures represented by the students and teachers at the school where the kids will hopefully go. Their school motto is: “We all smile in the same language.” All huge answers to prayers, because I long for our family to learn how to truly love across cultural lines, and we seem to be in a very good place for learning this!

I am excited to share some of the adventures we have had these first couple weeks, but I will admit that they are mostly of playgrounds and trees that the boys have climbed. We are so blessed with three bedrooms to spread out into and pair up in at the Coffey’s! It’s much more than we could afford in the heart of the city. But the boys don’t have the freedom to run laps or climb railings or make jump piles like they did at home, so we are having fun exploring the big city we get to live in.

This is down on the river, in the heart of the city, a 20 minute walk from where we live. We really are living in the city! Paola helped me find hats at the local op shops (second hand), because the sun shines every day here. I am loving the climate!

But there are plenty of trees to climb, like these in Orleigh Park, also on the river, 15 minutes the other way. The boys love to chase the birds here. Stewart has fallen in love with the birds. He and Lewis talk about having a noisy miner for a pet.

See if you can spot Stewart. He was literally looking out above the top branches of this beautiful flowering tree. I haven’t learned the names of all the trees yet. I won’t feel at home really until I do. For now I am still marveling.

I think tree climbing runs in the family, on both sides.

This is part of their favorite playground, down at South Bank, near that first picture on the river. The playgrounds here are very challenging and adventurous. There’s also a huge public pool, man made beach, man made rocky stream, and fountains at South Bank. We’re finding that Brisbane seems to like kids.

Roma Street Parklands. We hiked quite a way to get here, because our second day we had to pass it by on our 3 hour hike to Chris’ campus. It was worth hiking back for. And Paola came with us!

Check out Wesley’s hair! Picked up some good static on this slide!

This is Muskgrave Park, probably the closest one. We also passed this one by on our first day, walking up from the train station with all our luggage. So we have been back a few times. There’s a great public pool there, but it’s empty right now because it’s still winter. But winter is still 70’s and sunny every day!

This is from today at a new park we found yesterday on Paradise Street. Doesn’t Wesley look like a little Aussie? There was an older boy climbing barefoot at this park, and I think the boys were talking the subtle lesson. There’s a communal clay oven with wood provided at this park that we hope to make wood fired pizzas in sometime.

Not sure if you can appreciate the steepness of this hill from this photo, but it’s the steepest I have ever hiked. This is on the way to Paradise Street Park. We found it because the bus goes by it on the ride to church. But we only ride the buses on the weekends when the kids are free. They’re getting pretty used to walking. Twill is usually the little koala on my back in the carrier, so that’s why he’s not in as many pictures. When all his brothers are in school I imagine he will get to spread his wings a bit.

That’s what I keep thinking this week. It feels a little surreal when I look at just how many huge prayers God’s answered the last couple weeks. I mean prayers from years ago to return to this land and its people. And many, many prayers over this last year of longing for community, to be in and amongst people, in the thick of what God’s doing.

I have to be honest that I feel a bit spoiled by the unbelievably generous love of God right now. I am overflowing with thankfulness, and working on receiving it well, which leads me to write.

Here’s what I am talking about.

To begin with, my husband went to great logistical lengths to get all 6 of us here, and continues to work hard every day on his contract work that is funding the time here.

The flight went better than we could have imagined it would, believe it or not, with no meltdowns, and fair bit of sleep. It took us about 28 hours to get here from airport drop off to walking up to this home, one really long night, and we were all still up for more exploring that first day.

When we arrived here we were greeted with not only beds for 6 strangers, but a stocked fridge and kitchen, and uncanny thoughtfulness. Wez and Paola, and their children Becky and Sam, have not only shared their living space, but their lives with us from day one. They have shared meals and games, nights out on the town and picnics in the park. They’ve read to our children and climbed trees with them. They have welcomed us into the church family so thoroughly that it feels like we have been here more than 2 weeks. It feels like we have been planted here and taken root already. God has done it again, surpassing my imagination with his goodness.

The original plan was to land here until we found a place of our own to rent, but after 10 days of looking for housing, getting to know the city and public transport, we were lamenting the thought of moving out to a place we could afford away from everyone here. So Wez and Paola generously offered to let us stay here in their house for the whole 6 months! I am still a little bewildered by how thoroughly God is taking care of us. How could anyone expect to move to another county with a family of 6 and have literally everything necessary provided? I only shop for groceries and feed my family in a fully furnished kitchen.

Then today Paola walked us into the school where she teaches, the school that we can see from the front door, to turn in applications for the older three boys. The school is highly sought out by many, but they will take our boys because Paola and Wez are willing to let us live here in the catchment and provided the necessary proof. Here’s a little bit that just tops it all off too, they have mandatory swim lessons for all students! We struggled to juggle and make it work back home, so this feels like such a gift.

So maybe you can see where I am feeling a bit uncomfortable with this downpour of goodness that I surely don’t deserve. I have been listless and lazy, impatient and unkind the last couple weeks, just to scratch the surface. But I am experiencing the love of God in real and tangible ways, and I can tell you that it’s His kindness that leads to repentance.

It all reminds me of these words of Jesus that have grabbed me. They are to his disciples as he sends them out in Matthew 10.

“We are intimately linked in this harvest work. Anyone who accepts what you do, accepts me, the One who sent you. Anyone who accepts what I do accepts my Father who sent me. Accepting a messenger of God is as good as being God’s messenger. Accepting someone’s help is as good as giving someone help. This is a large work I’ve called you into, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. It’s best to start small. Give a cup of cold water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won’t lose out on a thing.”

I love this, and I am banking on it. How can I learn to love so generously, thoughtfully, and practically, as our new friends are loving us, if I am not willing to apprentice them by receiving? I think I had a glimpse of this before we came. I know that I have much to learn, and Jesus knows if I am anything it is an eager, though clumsy, student.

This was the favorite climbing tree over our favorite wading spot. We even got to share it with my brother Forest and nephew Jack! Being less than an hour from them for three weeks was such a treat!

And we got my mom up in the tree too!

This is the river we can see from the porch. We saw many blue herons and ducks.

This is the Postage Stamp Prairie, one of the many restored prairies on campus. The arboretum makes up the majority of campus and was so extensive that we didn’t even see it all in three weeks.

This is the waterfall at Nerstrand-Big Woods State Park where we waded last weekend.

The track is right across the road from our apartment, so we went there to run off energy almost daily. This day we happened to get caught in a downpour. It was very refreshing to see that my big boys have by no means outgrown puddle stomping.

This is Stewart’s collection of things from the bushes, before it was complete. And also before they came and power washed the townhomes, washing most of his brothers piles away.

This is Twill down in the wood chips below the lilac bushes off the porch. He literally could play in there content for an hour.

This is one of Wesley’s pets, Mothie. You wouldn’t believe how much fun a pet moth can be! Or how much wildlife we saw on a college campus. Every day the kids saw the “friendly squirrel” on the way to the dining hall, and chased many bunnies and birds.

This is at a local CSA that we got to visit with a new friend of a friend. It was so fun for the boys and I to help pick produce and flowers. I think they miss the garden some too!

Meeting the locals has been such a highlight, at parks, libraries, the pool, and businesses. There is a strong sense of community here. We even happened upon some live music and a farmers market a couple blocks from our apartment downtown. I think the compactness of everything in a smaller town can help to bring people together. I know I sure loved walking everywhere and am thankful for the practice we got before leaving our vehicles behind for the next year!