#longestpostever

It’s probably my pre-period symptoms that make my mind go crazy. Or maybe the random, thought provoking, podcasts i’ve chosen to spend endless hours listening to. 

But most likely it’s the holy spirit & my mind trying to work things out.

So here’s whats going through my head; I’ve become more human. 

Growing up people have always stated that I was too nice. Nice meaning... I didn’t stand up for myself, I did everything for everyone, and I never held tight to people’s wrong doings. I’ve heard people almost mock my “niceness” and have told me that I need to not be so naive. That in order to get through life, I need to have a voice, say no, and choose to do things for myself. I need not to be so weak. & I have. 

Almost to another degree. 

I’ve become angry when my time was taken away from me. I’ve gotten annoyed when my family would ask for help. I have spoken up about my opinions and my desires more often towards my friends even if I know it was not edifying. I have chosen to be upset, angry, frustrated thinking it was ok because this is what being human was.

My life the past year has become so much about me. Me becoming more “human.” & I don’t believe it’s a positive thing.

So much of 27 consisted of  “i’m so tired”  “I need a vacation”  “I’m so annoyed with x,y, & z.”  “I need... I want...” “Nice people are fake” “I don’t want to be around humans” “Everyone struggles, it’s not a big deal”

all the while, i’ve come to realize that my heart and mind have become quite calloused. I’ve been brainwashed to think that goodness doesn’t exist. That humans suck, and that this world is what it is and I should take it head on no matter what gets in my way. 

& I don’t think it’s just me. So many people around me doubt humanity. & I get it. We are such broken people that even one word or one gesture can be read in a million different ways that lead to unnecessary feelings. 

I’ve also seen the bad fruit that has sprouted from my actions. I’ve seen friendships in my life be filled with frustrations and grudges. I’ve experienced others distrust me or hurt by my words. I’ve seen words that i’ve spoken turn into insecurities or anger. I’ve seen my lack of affection lead to relationships that seem unfruitful. 

My “humaness” has gotten the best of me.

But I was called to be an image of God. Not Human. This means understanding all the things that are not of God in myself and praying to renew my mind. 

I want to love people genuinely even if they fail me. I want to be able to sacrifice my time and energy to those around me because I love them. Because love in this world exist.  I want to speak truths and life into broken parts of peoples life, because there’s power in the word.  I want to reconcile relationships, not make it worse. I want to show others that being human doesn’t mean fending for yourself. I want people to understand that goodness, hope, love, sacrifice, and true joy does exist. 

Because Jesus is the answer to all of it. If my “niceness” is seen as weakness, I will boast all the more in it. Because where there is Jesus, there is a contrary teaching that actually gives life and peace and joy.

It may not be perfect, but earth can be a glimpse of heaven with the truth of Jesus.

Some verses i’ll be dwelling upon.

James 1:9 “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger;”

Galatians 5:22-23 “22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.”

Ephesians 2:10 For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

Okay I live in a small town within a small town. There is a rural ‘village’ and then I live in a subsection of that which has about 70 people in it and a metric fuckton of sheepu and cows. It’s a really quiet place, and mostly elderly people reside here. But recently, it seems as though some weird stuff has been happening. 

-Firstly, there were the bees. There are these big trees that line the main highway and for about a week, they actually hummed. Every tree had hundreds and hundreds of bees, wasps and whatever in them (and there are a lot of trees). Don’t get me wrong, I love bees, but that was so eerie early in the morning. It was a really echoing buzz. We’ve lived here for over a decade and that had never happened before. No one knew what they were doing.

-Secondly, there were more bees. This happened just yesterday. I was home alone in my kitchen when two honey bees flew in. They don’t usually come inside (bumblebees do) but that was fine. And then another three flew in. Three were buzzing against the window trying to get in. A turned around to go outside, trying to see where they were coming from (could have been swarm/hive) and there were about 6 in my lounge. More and more kept coming in. Weirder, some were falling to the ground and dying. I had to take my dog and hide in the hallway. All were gone after about an hour and half. I asked my neighbours and they hadn’t seen any round their place.

-Every couple of weeks, just one person in the village loses power for about 4 hours. We’ve called the council, and they don’t know why it’s happening.

-A few nights ago, even though it was the end of summer, it was a crazy cold night. Mist rolled down from the hills. I went out to get something I’d left outside and heard something I had never heard before. Now, cows make weird noises, like someone in labour (really loud, short grunt noises). That’s fine. But this night, they were making these low, long moans that gradually got louder. A few seconds after one started, another one would echo it on the other side of the hill. Another one did it, and then another until the entire valley was filled with this incredibly eerie moaning. I listened for ages. One of the creepiest things I have ever heard.

-Twice so far, there have been massive groups of cars (like 30) stopping outside my house late at night. We thought it was those specialty car clubs going to a car show in the next town the next day. But when I went to look, they were all different cars and nothing special. This also occurred during the week, and those shows are always in the weekend. Anyway, they stop for about a minute and I can hear yelling. The second time, I went right out to the front of my house and hide behind a hedge. One guy was yelled at another one, “I definitely don’t have enough gas to get over the hill!”. Some one replied, “We just have to keep driving.” I’m not sure why they have to keep driving when they just passed a 24 hour petrol station. 

-Two old men moved in over the road from me. At least, we assume that they have just moved in (they was never any sign that it was for sale and no one even knew that the house was unoccupied before). They only leave to walk their dogs. One man looks very unwell and never speaks when you say hi. The other will grumble a hello. They only walk their dogs at night.

-Every day, I walk my dog down the road. We pass this big wrought gate on the way. The driveway doesn’t get used because two adjoining properties were put together. There are just these big overgrown garden with huge trees. Anyway, yesterday I walked past this gate and I heard this echoey beeping coming from under the ground? 

-Today, when I walked past the gate, my dog (Blue) wouldn’t stop staring the the gate. He would go a few steps and then stop and stare at it. When a car went past, he got a massive fright (very unlike him). We got a bit past it, when he suddenly jumped back around to face where we had come from. After a few seconds, he sprinted in the other direction. This happened four times. It was like there was something behind us that he was trying to get away from.

-I went down another road. There are mostly empty fields this time of year and a couple of houses. I heard two weird clicking noises behind us, like when someone tries to get the attention of a horse of dog. Blue got a massive fright and jumped to face behind him. He then wouldn’t continue walking until I had comforted him. It was strange for a usually relaxed and curious dog.

So yesterday it was one year since my grandfather, or Pop as I call him, passed away from a shockingly quick battle with cancer. 

I remember the day a year ago like no time has passed - waking up to a missed phone call from my dad, knowing immediately on some level what it was and not wanting to hear it said before he called again and I picked up. Lying in bed, not really sure what to do with myself before going into my housemates room and telling him what had happened. (Coincidentally, it was the Friday before we were supposed to go back to school and we had received our yearly allocations for shows, and my housemate took one look at my upset face and said, “Oh no, are you upset about the allocations? It’s alright! It’ll be okay!” and I just looked at him and said, “What? no, my grandfather just died. What the hell are you on about?” 

The look on his face was kind of priceless at that.)

Over the next few hours I emailed my school and told them what had happened and how I needed to go home, told a few of my friends, but mostly just sat on my bed. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do, or what the right response was, so I just sat. It opened up a wall of questions, of anger, of trying to understand how this could happen to someone who, not six months earlier, had seemed perfectly healthy; who four months ago the doctors had said would still be around; someone who I had said goodbye to a week ago, joked about my new hair colour and who I didn’t get enough time with in my life to be prepared for him to not be there anymore. 

Going home for the funeral was one of the hardest things I have done in my life. Not being there when it had happened made me unprepared for him to genuinely not be there anymore - for me not to be able to go to the hospital and see him.  I can’t truly write the feelings that went through me that week back home, but I guess the correct word is grey. Everything was grey, an odd feeling for a family usually filled with so much colour and happiness. 

Something I learned was grief isn’t textbook; it’s different on everyone. A few of us wear it on our sleeves, some of us on our hearts, or we keep it in our back pocket to try and forget it’s there. No matter how we deal we grief, there is no right or wrong way; there just is. 

I think the hardest time this past year was Christmas. Pop was kind of the spirit of Father Christmas (literally, he sometimes WAS Father Christmas), and I think we all knew this year would feel a little different. There was a lot of silence - again, odd for our family - and not as much laughter. While I could feel Pop there - even to the point where my cousin and I were certain he was causing bangs from the laundry while we were cleaning up - it wasn’t the same, and I doubt it ever will be again. 

Now we come to yesterday. I spent the day with friends, drinking at a BBQ and then hanging out at the beach that night. I saw Facebook posts reminding me what day it was, and I tried to not think about it too much - denial is quite powerful. It wasn’t until late last night and today that it all really hit me again - how much I miss him, how there’s a hole in the family, how I felt when I found out and how I feel when I remember. It’s not just the memory that he died - it’s the millions of times in those six months that we found out he had cancer that I had the thought he’s going to be okay. He’s going to be around for many more years, because we can’t lose him. We just can’t. 

He was supposed to see me turn 21;  to see my cousin turn 16. He was going to come to my graduation next year. He was meant to be here to meet his great grandchildren, to meet and screen his grandchildren’s partners. To see us all become the people we are trying to be, and to cheer us on. He loved us all, his children and his grandchildren, and it seems so unfair that he doesn’t get to see the milestones he was hoping to see. I know he’s watching us in heaven, and he’s seeing all (even the things he probably doesn’t want to - sorry Pop!), but it’s unfair that he doesn’t get to be here anymore and give us the bear hugs he was so famous for. 

I’ll miss him everyday for the rest of my life. His kindness and generosity; his happiness to the end; his sense of humour (thankfully passed down to each generation) and his spirit that was too big for this world. I love you Pop, and I hope that you’re enjoying the view from up there; I’ll keep trying to make you proud, as well as remind the rest of the family how proud you are of them when they seem to forget. 

I have been encouraged by our dear pastoral care coordinator to take some time out for/by myself. So here I am trying to have a proper day off - complete with a cuppa, laptop, journal, bible and a special appearance by our sisterhood’s nail polish stash. It has been a while since I posted anything! We have been at the University of Queensland for six weeks now and have officially kicked off our ministry at UQ - faith studies, discipling, accompanying students, trying to increase the Catholic identity on campus.  Over the last 3 months I have become more self-aware of myself - my habits, strengths, weaknesses. I have also found that I am also more attune to Jesus speaking to my life. Our supervisor visit a couple of weeks ago was so much fun, but was also very confronting - one of the roughest things as a sanguine-phlegmatic (in my case anyway) is external parties pointing out areas of improvement - hearing that you could improve, that you could do better & be better as a team leader, sister, campus minister.  In my personal attempts to take on this challenge to be better, more, great - the clogs in my head have perhaps been working a little too hard. Headaches, nausea, tense shoulders, jaw clenching, bizarre dreams.. which then culminated into a casual panic attack last week (which was a fairly terrifying experience in itself.) And so, over the last couple of weeks I have found myself on this major spiritual journey - painful and uncomfortable - but a time of real refinement. I have been getting a real sense of being pushed outside of my comfort zone by Jesus; of being challenged to go beyond myself and what I have come to believe are my limits. This has put a bit of a weight on my heart, but as a good friend of mine often reminds me, “when you do something outside of your comfort zone, your comfort zone gets bigger.”  Through this, I’ve felt the importance in asking the big guy upstairs for the grace to find joy in the suffering, especially as I read St Therese of Lisieux’s autobiography:

One cannot attain the end without adopting the means, and as Our Lord made me understand that it was by the Cross He would give me souls, the more crosses I met with, the stronger grew my attraction to suffering.

The lives and intercession of the Church’s saints has also been an inspiration lately. Just the concept that the Catholic Church is beyond that on earth.. that we have a whole army praying with us and for us in Heaven - is that not such a comforting thought!? One big thing I have found helpful (and am working on being better at) is being still and allowing myself time alone to reflect and process the kazillion things running through my mind. I ask whoever might be reading this to please pray for me and my team as we continue our mission to sow seeds all over campus!