From the Blog
And now she’s four, Our good-news-gift-girl, And yesterday she brought her little brother in from the wet and cold and cared for him.
“Isn’t it cool that we all live in the same house!” O. (aged 4) So, we’ve been living in a college residential property for over six months now, sharing a big, old, beautiful house with four other young families, our kids spilling out each day to play on a shared front lawn, our daily lives spilling over into one another’s as we learn what it is to live in a community.
Confession: I might not look like it, but inside I’m a thief. Countless moments a day I catch myself trying to steal something. Snatch it. Hold it close. To own that which isn’t my own…
That’s what she asked us, the stranger on the street, her eyes darting us over like she was watching some sort of curious circus performance. Us and our three young children, our bounty of blankets and snacks, and enough miscellaneous mess to fill some minimalist’s living rooms. Us and our dishevelled hair, food still on our face and clothes from dinner (and that’s just Dr M and myself!) With our two prams, one of them a double-decker, one child perched on top riding high, the other closeted below like a surprise hidden layer in a rainbow cake.
Sometime through the monotony of my mid-morning, an email came into my inbox. It was from Dr M. The message title simply read, ‘Lord help me to live beautifully in this season.’ The content of the message is written below. I hope it helps others as it did me.
Yesterday the night came early. Everyone inside, cheeks brushed red from play. Late June. Time is passing. This new year already mid-way through. I know the house now. It’s pleasures, and idiocyncracies. I know how to walk in the night hours to avoid the weak floorboards. How the light looks at dawn, as it filters through the stain glass windows of the doorway.
Because let’s be honest, when I’m tired and overwhelmed, I don’t always go where I should. Instead, I find myself. At the avoidance place. The distraction place. The scroll-until-it-feels-better-but-it-never-does-for-long place.
So, the other weekend, spontaneously, as he does, and as I like it when he does, Dr M suggested we go and see something of the ‘Vivid’ lights. For those unfamiliar with it, ‘Vivid’ is a city-wide Sydney festival of light and sound taking place in May-June. It’s been described as the world’s largest outdoor gallery. Nice! But while I’ve seen photos, and heard of friends going on ‘Vivid cruises’ around the harbour (sounds oh so very romantic), we’d never been.
Below is a photograph of E’s latest etch-a-sketch representation of herself and Baby J. She’s been drawing a lot of these sorts of pictures recently, as her fingers and thoughts come to terms with the yet-again-new shape of our family.
And now she’s four, Our good-news-gift-girl, And yesterday she brought her little brother in from the wet and cold and cared for him.
“Isn’t it cool that we all live in the same house!” O. (aged 4) So, we’ve been living in a college residential property for over six months now, sharing a big, old, beautiful house with four other young families, our kids spilling out each day to play on a shared front lawn, our daily lives spilling over into one another’s as we learn what it is to live in a community.
Confession: I might not look like it, but inside I’m a thief. Countless moments a day I catch myself trying to steal something. Snatch it. Hold it close. To own that which isn’t my own…
That’s what she asked us, the stranger on the street, her eyes darting us over like she was watching some sort of curious circus performance. Us and our three young children, our bounty of blankets and snacks, and enough miscellaneous mess to fill some minimalist’s living rooms. Us and our dishevelled hair, food still on our face and clothes from dinner (and that’s just Dr M and myself!) With our two prams, one of them a double-decker, one child perched on top riding high, the other closeted below like a surprise hidden layer in a rainbow cake.
Sometime through the monotony of my mid-morning, an email came into my inbox. It was from Dr M. The message title simply read, ‘Lord help me to live beautifully in this season.’ The content of the message is written below. I hope it helps others as it did me.
Yesterday the night came early. Everyone inside, cheeks brushed red from play. Late June. Time is passing. This new year already mid-way through. I know the house now. It’s pleasures, and idiocyncracies. I know how to walk in the night hours to avoid the weak floorboards. How the light looks at dawn, as it filters through the stain glass windows of the doorway.
Because let’s be honest, when I’m tired and overwhelmed, I don’t always go where I should. Instead, I find myself. At the avoidance place. The distraction place. The scroll-until-it-feels-better-but-it-never-does-for-long place.
So, the other weekend, spontaneously, as he does, and as I like it when he does, Dr M suggested we go and see something of the ‘Vivid’ lights. For those unfamiliar with it, ‘Vivid’ is a city-wide Sydney festival of light and sound taking place in May-June. It’s been described as the world’s largest outdoor gallery. Nice! But while I’ve seen photos, and heard of friends going on ‘Vivid cruises’ around the harbour (sounds oh so very romantic), we’d never been.
Below is a photograph of E’s latest etch-a-sketch representation of herself and Baby J. She’s been drawing a lot of these sorts of pictures recently, as her fingers and thoughts come to terms with the yet-again-new shape of our family.
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