Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

A Valid Question – Part 2

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On the other end of that whispered prayer there became a growing desire to pursue some further study in the area of music and ministry, singing particularly and worship leading at its more specific end.  I did some research and came up with a couple of possible places that catered to both, neither of them in NZ, one of them predictably Hillsong College, the other being the then lesser known School of Creative Arts (as it was then, now C3 College). To cut a long story short I chose to apply only to SCA.

As to why I made that choice, some years before I had overheard a conversation between the then Principal of the college and a friend of mine, in which he said to her, “If all you can think about when you wake up in the morning, is singing, you should be at my college.”  I’m not sure what sort of impact this had on my friend though she did indeed spend a year at his college the following year (1994ish) but that statement went right through me and never really left though at the time I remember shaking my head thinking “that could never be about me.”

Fast Forward to that evening in 1998 and the whispered prayer that really started the ball rolling, so when I’m thinking about which college to apply to, Crabman’s statement came back to mind and I figured I’d give it a shot… I’d put in the application to SCA and let God or fate decide whether I’m going, or not, on the back of a successful or otherwise application.

Cue a successful application, some incredible financial support from my church (who paid 2.5 years of fees for me, I am still blown away by that) and I found myself right up at February 1999 waiting at the airport for my ride to CCC (Christian City Church then, now C3 church) and the beginning of a 3 year journey of challenge, insight, faith, frustration, but above all, friendship.

You see, realistically, the best, most magnificent legacy of that time (and there were many, some less good than others) are the people I encountered and who have become the best and most important part of my world.

I started writing a list of the for you, until I realised there was no way words about each of my incredible friends does them any justice, suffice it to say that I have been incredibly blessed with people who know me. People who really, really know me and love me just the same. People who see way more in me than I do, and who have grieved my choice to move away, almost as much as I have.

They are the greatest part of my world, and the hardest part of Sydney to leave.

So, that’s basically how I ended up in Sydney, and frankly, why I stayed so long.  I have documented a little of why I’m moving on, it isn’t nearly so ‘spiritual’ a reason as a direct call to come and learn ministry.  Actually, it’s probably just as spiritual, but in these 14 years there is a great deal that’s changed for me about what spiritual means.

But that’s a whole ‘nother blog post. For another day.

Home is Where your Heart is.

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I’ve never really been the kind of person who hankers after the past, who longs for different times, different places. I’ve never really been one to get homesick, never have really been stuck on the past, or the future for that matter.  I can be quite content with where things are at now, and where I am, and who I’m with… it never seems as though people are far away any more, and frankly I’m pretty excellent at being alone… I rarely feel lonely.

I notice, when I revisit places I used to live, I don’t feel nostalgic; I think this is because when we hark back to different, simpler times, we wish to go back, to undo past wrongs, to heal, or to relive times when things were better, when we were happier.  I’m not critical of people who do feel this way, but it’s never been part of my makeup.  Maybe the whole ‘No Regrets, No Excuses‘ thing is indicative of this too.  No point in holding on to what’s gone on before, just live, let go and be free.

That’s rather a philosophical way of introducing my new home… A place I haven’t yet seen but to which I’ve committed for the next 12 months. How’s that for life on the edge?  Moving into a place you haven’t set foot in yet…  Life on the edge… that’s me.

I’m comfortable with this because of a combination of gut feeling and advance guard… I saw this flat in my regular perusal of apartments in the area I want to live in and felt at once I should get it checked out… My first wish is a house with natural light, stark contrast to the flat I’m in now wherein the best beneficiary of the light is Lulu, her bed being on top of the microwave, the only place the light falls for any period… Furthermore it’s brilliant to have friends like the Tailor who will serve as the advance guard… and as such I sent the poor woman for a look at the flat with the following exhaustive list of questions…Continue Reading

Organisation Station

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There is less than a month before I leave NSW for the long term… and the list of things to do to prepare is long and distinguished.  But bit by bit I’m ticking things off and, I hope by doing so now, a little under a month before I leave for good, I’ll be well prepared when the fateful day comes.  Realistically, I have to be really well organised because of a bunch of deadlines by which stuff needs to happen in order for the move to occur at all…

Today I had an unexpected bonus few hours to get some of the stupid fiddly jobs done, the kind of jobs you always mean to do, and never get around to… things like

  1. Getting rid of the gas bottle that’s been sitting in the laundry for a couple of years since the BBQ went to pieces and was never replaced. (That’ll be $20 tyvm).
  2. Buying a piece of timber (90x35mmx149mm) to serve as a bed slat to replace the one you stood on and broke in the god knows how distant past… and while you’re there, grab a packet of upholstery tacks with which to re-secure the the hessian tape that’s supposed to join each of the slats together and prevent them moving when you do while you’re tossing and turning in your sleep.  Wonder if you’ll sleep better now that the bed is finally fixed.
  3. Buy one of those tiny cheap hacksaws so you can shorten the broom handle you’re planning to use as a curtain rod in the bedroom.  You might not need to do this but as you’ve lived in the house 6 years, and can’t remember just whether there was a curtain in your bedroom when you moved in, consider it value add for the next tenant. (Or a bonus to help make sure you get your bond back; might be useful as a foil for the shredded carpet you had repaired after Chino used the patch under the bedroom door to sharpen his claws. Repeatedly.)
  4. Investigate the costs of dumping a mattress at the tip (dump, landfill) and find out that at the council tip it’s $30 and at the other private one it’s $55. Make a note to go to the council tip.
  5. Book an appointment for the cat at the vets.  Because she’ll need innoculations against those nasty Victorian bugs… or you know those genearal Australian ones because it’s been heck a couple of years before you got her shot previously… Yes, slack mother, you know except for the part where she never goes outside to catch such germs anyway… but, safety first.  THEN, take said cat to the vet and leave her there so she can have surgery tomorrow.  Rue the fact that the costs will be close to $500.00. Wish you’d taught the cat to clean her teeth.
  6. Book the car in for a service.  12months since the last one (because you rarely use it, except for a short trip across town from time to time) and hopefully get that really irritating noise seen to so you don’t end up in Melbourne on the 25th homicidal from the irritating noises you’ve been putting up with for the long drive, heck, for the last 18months.

What do you do when you find yourself with unexpected hours up your sleeve?

 

::NOTE:: According to WordPress this post is the 1000th to occur since I started blogging in July of 2004.  I can scarcely believe I’ve been blogging 8 years or that I’ve written that many journal entries… I also wonder if you could call me a blogger considering how few and far between these posts have become…  There will be more postage… just need to blog in those unexpected spare hours instead of running errands…

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.