Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

A Valid Question – Part 1

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Stella asked a valid question. Have I ever told the story of what brought me to Australia? And I did a quick fossick around the site and couldn’t find that I had… so here we go. And here’s a fair warning… there is ‘faith based’ content herein…

Contrary to popular opinion Australia isn’t usually the first place a Kiwi wants to emigrate to (yes, I realise this is contradicted by the overwhelming number of Kiwis here). It’s the neighbour’s place, it’s over the back fence, it’s… well, it’s not the cultural hub of Europe…. it’s not the bright lights of America… it’s… you know, a bit ordinary (now, now, settle down Aussies, I’m just saying how it felt across the Tasman back in the 90s, it could be completely different these days! (but probably isn’t)).

So, having returned from the bright lights of America (1998-89) and the cultural hub of Europe (1989-91) back to NZ (gorgeously smashing backwater) I spent some time refining my career (read switching from childcare in various forms, to customer service), and in the course of this career change I had the opportunity to move to Northland (Whangarei) late in 1995. It was here that the chain of events kicked in that brought me here…

Here’s how it played out…

I had spent quite a bit of time, while I was in Whangarei, involved with the music team of the church I was attending. It’s a pattern, I sing, I end up on the music team. It’s by and large, the place where I most often get to exercise my voice, it makes me feel good to be serving and to tell the truth, I feel the pleasure of God when I sing, like it’s one of the things I was made to do.

I hadn’t ever really had the impression that I was that good, I still think I’m probably better in a choir than as a soloist, though I’m more likely to perform alone these days than I ever would have before I came to Australia. In any case, it’s in the midst of this environment of encouragement, and music and eventual leadership on that team that the seeds of the possibility that perhaps the course of my life might include more ministry than just singing in church on Sunday, started to germinate.

So, as a great many of the New Zealand christian community does, I attended ‘Parachute’ in February of 1998, a big music festival, headlined by international acts, and attended by mostly christians, but also other people who just want to rock out in a predominantly safe environment.  As is usually the case, in 1998 there were international headliners and a whole lot of local talent as well. Jars of Clay was one of the international guests… they were underwhelming, if I remember correctly, Margaret Becker was another.

She rocked it.

If you’ve ever been to Parachute when it was housed at Totara Springs, you’ll remember that the main stage was nestled in an awesome natural amphitheatre, and it was while I listed to Margaret play my heart, standing at the top of that amphitheatre, looking down on this epic crowd, that I offered this little tiny prayer, that really is the biggest prayer you can pray. I simply said,

“OK, Whatever YOU want, wherever, YOU want, I’ll do it. Let my life be YOURS.”

I write that down now, and if I’m completely honest, I wonder what on earth I was thinking.  Who am I to place my life in the hands of a deity the larger part of the world doesn’t even believe exists let alone accept that he loves me and wants what’s best for me and will direct me to a bigger, better life.  But, it’s 14 years down the track, I’m older, wiser and realistically probably a lot less naive.  Which isn’t to say I would change anything.  There’s just been a really big body of water underneath the bridge of that decision.

It’s called the Tasman Sea.

On the Move

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I am forever trying to nut out where I was living in any given year but because they all seem to run together, I’ve decided to figure it out once and for all and post it here so I have some point of reference. You know, just for the next time I don’t want to spend an hour backtracking through my ever increasing number of years to try and remember where it was I was living… and when. So, here goes…

2012 – November – Melbourne, VIC … this is in advance… I WILL be there come November 11… (wait, I hadn’t told you? Yes, we have a date.. and a plane ticket OMG)
2006 – December – Sydney Rd, Balgowlah, NSW
2002 – January – Queenscliff Rd, Queenscliff, NSW
2001 – January/February – Rhonda Ave, Forestville, NSW
1999 – February – Australia – Starkey St, Forestville, NSW
1996 – April – Pah Rd, Onerahi, Northland
1995 – October – Whangarei, Northland
1995 – July – Devonport, North Shore, Auckland
1994 – April – Mount Smart Rd, Royal Oak, Auckland
1994 – January – Glenfield, North Shore, Auckland
1993 – January – Deep Creek Rd, Torbay, North Shore, Auckland
1992 – February – Woodlands Cres, Browns Bay, North Shore Auckland
1991 – October – Ladies Mile, Remuera, Auckland, NZ
1991 – September – New Zealand – Cambridge, NZ
1989 – June – United Kingdom – Richmond, Surrey, then Manor Rd, Teddington, Middlesex, then Twickenham, Surrey
1988 – July – USA – Gaithersburg, MD, USA
1986 – April – Hamilton Rd, SH1, Cambridge, Waikato, NZ
1980 – June – Move to Mills Rd, Bruntwood, Waikato, NZ
1974 – June – Move to Morrinsville, Waikato, NZ
1969 – June – Move to Karaka, South Auckland, NZ
1968 – New Zealand – Born in Auckland, living in Helensville, NZ

There, a blog post. Sorry it isn’t more interesting… there’s plenty going on around here, just trying to find the time to write about it!!

I’m in Mexico

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No, really. It’s what they call Victoria, you know, if you’re from New South Wales… Mexico… south of the border.

Hey, I never said it was funny (or culturally sensitive). I wonder though, do Queenslanders call New South Welshmen, Mexicans too? For we are south of their border. Please advise. (What can I say, these are the things I think about.)

That was a dreadfully long way of saying I’m back in Melbourne. You know, because I can’t move here soon enough, and I got cheap airfares, and because Katia is here and so, given she came all the way from Paris to Melbourne, the least I could do was trek down from Sydney (as if I needed an excuse) in order that we may meet over dim sum.

So here I am in Mexico Melbourne and being here has a whole different feel now that it is settled in my head and heart that I’m going to come live here. It seems to me that I should feel all sorts of excited, and I do, but the idea also feels overwhelming. You know, that “OMG what on earth am I thinking?”; “is it really a good idea?”; “am I going to regret this/am I really sure?” and is it too late to change my mind? feeling. Of course, it isn’t too late to change my mind. Neither do I want to, but just to make sure, I sift through all my reasons for making such a change and examine them, turning each one over and checking it for any warping or twisting, for anything that undermines this overwhelming desire for change.

I factor in to these thoughts (as a last resort), that if things don’t work out it’s only my pride that will get hurt, that if I hightail it back to Sydney in the next 6 months at least I’ll be able to say I had given it a go. But even in having said that, I’m really not doubting the idea at all, just acutely aware that whatever expectations, large or small I bring to such a change NONE of them will be met exactly as I anticipate them. Some will be exceeded, some may be shattered, but I’ll make the move and hope and plan (as well as I can) for the best.

Scratching the Itch

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It’s been a few months since I confessed to being restless, to being ready for a change, to being tired of feeling stagnant and dry and, quite frankly, bored. I posited that it was on my mind to make a move. To change my scenery. And while at the time it was little more than a wish or a dream, in the intervening months it became one that I have been having so repeatedly that I finally started listening to my heart.

The long and the short of it is, I’m moving. After nearly 14 years in Sydney I’m packing up my things and heading south of the border to Victoria, to Melbourne.

I have been loving Melbourne for two years, ever since I drove down there with a friend to move her back to her home state. I’ve been visiting her and a succession of friends who’ve moved there or whom I’ve met in those regular visits and every time I drive in along the Hume Highway, or fly in and catch a glimpse of the city, my heart skips a beat with the possibility of being there. So I’ve decided to listen to that skipping beat, to that whisper of excitement and I’m just going to do it.

I’m excited, I plan to be leaving NSW at the end of October, or early in November, I’ve already culled my wardrobe of clothing I don’t wear and books I won’t want to take, I’m loving, so much, the feeling of shedding the weight of STUFF that’s not necessary to take with me and is cluttering (mostly) my office, and I am BEYOND excited that a new city, new experiences, new friends and a new environment will almost certainly breathe new life into this dusty old blog.

Let alone, new life into a dusty old me.