Often for me, when this occurs, it comes with a couple of days of breaking down, endless tears, a rubbish bin that is turned into a mountain of tissues and a deep sorrow. As a friend said to me once, the truth of it took away my innocence and ignorance. No longer can I look upon the world with child like eyes seeing the beauty because I know, truely know that to be true and I can never unknow it.

What are these truth’s you might be asking. To be fair, not all truth’s have me breaking down, some creep up on me and it’s like an awakened moment of new realisation. But as a person who feels deeply often these truth’s are the harder things in life that I’d like to ignore.

For example when I first watched ‘Into the Wild’, it broke me for two straight days. Unable to deny the importance of sharing ours lives with others and how not everyone gets to do so. Or when I was in South Africa and held the hand of a little girl who we were taking away from her ‘home’ where she had been raped repeatedly by a young male in community ongoing for a couple of years and she was not even 7. My spirit was broke. How could we do such things to one another, to an innocent child? How can another child have become so perverted in his thinking to think that is ok? What kind of upbringing must he have had to think that was ok? How could I actually effect anything when this was going on all over the community, quietly, people knowing but afraid to speak of the atrocities.

Or as happened for me just yesterday (when I wrote this 2 weeks ago), reading in the newspaper about Southern Sudan and the ethic genocide that is happening there. How one race is trying to wipe out another, women, children, men, no mercy. My heart sinks through my chest to the floor, it wants to sink lower but it’s stuck in chest. It’s so heavy and full of all the unheard screams of the voices of the Murle tribe that have gone unheard by the world. And I ask myself, as someone who kind of follows the news, how do I not know about this!?? How do we have a repeat of some of what the genocide was in WWII and our response is a couple of peace keepers who can do nothing against an army of 7,000 well armed (armed from financial supporters [apparently coming from fundraising in the US]) men merclessly killing another group because they are merely sick of dealing with them. How did humans become so inhumane? How can anyone distance themselves enough to attack unarmed people just cos and then not feel remorse but be moved to bludgeon more people to death?

The truth of our disturbing inhumane society and world that justifies so much to each other, to ourselves as ok. That the world isn’t a place to be trusted, assume that people will do right. The truth that knowing all this and knowing that I will probably do nothing other than cry makes me weep. Overwhelmed by the insurmountable problems of the world into inaction.

But then I am encouraged. Encouraged by the truth that I cannot deny, that there is a God. A God who cares, who weeps much more than I weep for the problems of this world. That cares much more than I care and a God that won’t be moved into inaction but that is constantly working for good. Where? Sometimes I really don’t know, but even in horrible situations I know I have found his comfort and his hand prints all around me. I am not God, thank God! so I don’t know what He is doing in Southern Sudan, or any other war zone for that matter, but I know He is there.

So in the mean time I will pray to Him, pray for peace, for His comfort, for more humanity, understanding and communication. And I will also pray that He will help me work on the violence that resides in me.

To be honest I am sick of hearing it… mainly sick of hearing myself say it over and over.

I am sorry I’m late but the traffic was horrendous, I’m sorry but I was tired, I’m sorry but I was just reacting, I’m sorry but I’m not good at that.

I am sick of my own excuses, sick of constantly justifying my actions to others and to myself. I’m sick of saying sorry, of feeling guilty, of the sacastic jokes that are based on truth that begin to cut a little deeper. I’m sick of saying it because I do nothing to change it.

As I explain far too many times in my nanny working day, sorry means that we acknowledge that we have done wrong, made a mistake or not taken care and that in the future we will try not to do it again. It’s an acknowledgement of wrongdoing with a promise to action.

I feel I should right now say sorry for all the times I have said sorry but not meant it. For the far too many times I say it, feel bad but make absolutely no effort to change a thing and repeat my apology at least 50 times before I begin to realise I need to address something.

Slight switch of focus… but I’ll make them connect further down I promise.

The choices we make in life have consequences. What job we work, which dictates how much money we earn, which dictates how much time we invest at work and how much to family, friends etc, which dictates many things. Where we live, dictates how much we have to travel, how we live, with whom, the impact that has on general living… you get my point.

I am currently all too aware of the fact that I am super busy. I work 4 days for around 44hrs a week, I am about to start part-time study (I am dropping to only 29hrs or so at work), I am co-running an internship for an organisation on my day off, I volunteer at another organisation, I have friendships to maintain, community to be present in, family to invest in… you get the point. This week I haven’t got an hour of unplanned time till Saturday and even then it’s getting kinda full… (I should be asleep right now but I felt this was important so tomorrow will be a live off coffee day because you stayed up too late writing a blog post kinda day).

But my busyness isn’t an excuse. It’s not a I’m sorry but I’m busy. It’s I’m sad but I have made life choices that mean that I can’t attend, or invest in this relationship, or start new relationships, begin a massive veggie patch, or even learn my guitar. I have made decisions that mean I have placed priority on something else.

Yes I am sad, but it is my current reality and it is based on the choices I made and I have no one to blame but me. It’s not a pity story (and I’m legitimately sorry if I make it one… I am trying not to) it’s what I decided my year was going to look like.

It’s a decision I made with consequences… some are awesome (I will have money to go to India and Nepal!!) some suck… friends I love that I won’t see as often, friends I may lose, experiences and shared moments I’ll miss out on.

I have no one to blame for the decisions I make but myself. In every situation and opportunity I am faced with the choice of how to react and respond. The choices I make have consequences that affect more than me, they affect the people I love. I hope it’s something I never forget, something I always think through before making a commitment and something I take seriously. I also hope that it’s something I don’t use as an excuse, because it is a part of life and a part of growing up. Excuses are opportunities for growth, opportunities to be a better version of our self.

I can be pretty boring at the best of times, my idea of fun is often a night in. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being boring or doing what is expected of me. But sometimes and more recently a little more often, I want to just do something new, something crazy, something I have never done before.

I want to break out of my own shell, that I am far to comfortable in at times, and do something that I think that would be fun but tell myself is not for me.

So why not? Why don’t I actually do it? Well often time, money, it’s soooo much easier to stay at home and curl up with a book and a cuppa rather than try something that could end up disaterous, making me look like a fool, or be in some way awkward.

But I have decided that for the month of February I want to try something new.

Each week (probably on a saturday) I want to do something I have never done before. Be ok with making a fool of myself (which lets face I do all the time and am beginning to care much much less about, embrace it even), with doing something outside my comfort zone, rebelling against my own nature.

Odd you may say, awesome I say! I am actually really excited. I think a dance class is definitely on the list (unsure yet what type) and I will have to come up with some ideas for the rest. But there you have it. It’s in writting so now I actually have to do it.

For the month of February I am going to try something new and slightly out of character each week. Suggestions of what that could be are more than welcome as is anyone who would like to join me. And I think I might report back each week or at the end of the month and see how my little experiment went.

Some would say that the bible is very clear on the matter, whilst others point to a more greyish hue. But believe it or not, I am not actually going to discuss my opinion on whether abortion should be legal or not and all the different arguments that come into play to reach a conclusion on the matter. If you want my opinion, have a discussion (not argument, I don’t argue well) with me, in person.

Why name the post abortion then? Well because it is about abortion, but not on whether it is right or wrong. But rather about how as Christians we feel so uncomfortable about talking about sex and sexuality that abortion has actually become a problem and taboo topic in the Church.

I always thought if I ever got pregnant, I would definitely keep the baby (the question of ‘what would happen if I got raped, would I keep the baby?’ springs to mind, melodramatic,  yes, but you would be surprised how many times I have been asked it). Regardless of how it happened and whether I would mother the child, abortion was never an option.

But my assumption of my hypothetical response has been constantly challenged upon realizing that there are girls in the Church that have gotten pregnant and had abortions. Hearing stories about young women or teenagers who couldn’t face their parents, school or church. That as scary as the idea of carrying and birthing a child is, the fear around the reaction of their community was greater and abortion became (sometimes in spite of beliefs) the only option they could see.*

This breaks my heart. Partly because I do believe that a baby is a baby from conception, but mostly because that as the ‘Church’ we have ostracized the very people Jesus reached out to, those on the outer.

The Church comes across as having a clear and simple message on sex. No sex until marriage and in marriage it should be celebrated. Simple.

Well I don’t think I have to break it to you that sex and sexuality isn’t that simple. Basically the simple rule in itself is contradictory. Sex should be something awesome in marriage but until then, you shouldn’t have any sexual desires or pursue any urges (because when your married, it’s how God created you, but when your not it’s sin??). This isn’t the message all Churches give out but it is the one I seem to hear most often and I feel a pretty good generalisation of the culture even if the teaching is different.

So then what if you are not married? Single or dating? Well sex isn’t something we talk about until your married and then you only discuss with your married friends (because single and dating friends won’t understand) [making huge generalisations here!]. But seriously sex isn’t something you talk about with your youth group, unless it’s resist your urges (deeming them wrong). It certainly isn’t something I talk about with my female friends, (maybe males are different), but it definitely isn’t something I talk about with my male friends. Masturbation, whether you do or don’t, whether it’s right or wrong, no we don’t discuss that because it’s inappropriate, it’s awkward and just not a fun conversation.

Then if a friend is dating, the rule is don’t do it, they know the rule so we don’t need to discuss.

This is what makes me upset! This is the church culture that increases and encourages the very thing so many in the Church are petitioning against (abortion as well as porn). Sexuality and sex are not wrong. They are awkward things to talk about at times for sure, but partly because we don’t know how to do it.

What is worse, a christian having an abortion or a christian feeling so unsupported by their church and community that they don’t feel they could have a baby?

Now all of this said, I am really not great at having the awkward sex conversations with my friends. I am not good at talking to my married friends about whether someone (because it definitely doesn’t have to be you!) is checking up on whether they have a healthy sex life contributing to the health of their marriage (which should be supported by their community because it effects the health of that community) or that they know they can talk to someone about it if they need to (and some might not need to). I am also no good at talking to my friends who are single about what that means for them exploring their sexuality in a healthy way. I am also no good at talking to dating or engaged couples / friends about how I could maybe be supporting them in decisions they make as they explore their relationship. Keeping them accountable to boundaries or even just having someone other than their partner to talk to.

So I can critic the Church culture as much as I want, but I am a hypocrite if I am not trying to be part of a different way that redeems what I am critiquing. That said, I am trying to get better, I am taking moments and having some awkward conversations. So often when I find the courage it is met with gladness, because the person didn’t feel they could bring it up with anyone. It is such a silent topic and so many people are struggling in silence. So many people are beating themselves up, constantly feeling guilty for exploring their sexuality and hating themselves silently for all the ‘wrong’ things they are doing. (I am not saying what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ but rather that from my understanding hating yourself is against one of God’s clearest commandments, ‘love your neighbour as yourself’ and not only that but just continually telling yourself something is wrong and has to stop doesn’t help the heart of the problem at all!)

God called us to enter into community with one another for a reason. And it wasn’t so that we could just choose all the fun interesting topics to be discussing with one another.

If you are pro life, then be pro life. Don’t let your silence and judgment be what leads to death (both physically and spiritually). If you are pro choice then be pro choice, all choices, even the harder ones that might include some babysitting.

If you want to take a stance on abortion please by all means do, but don’t be single minded enough to think that it is a simple matter and that the conversation is easy.

* To be honest, it isn’t only church culture that demonises having kids young and unwanted pregnancies. As a nanny I have recently felt the stares of society as I walk down the street with a pram and hear the silent voices of people walking past going, she’s too young to be a mum. Silently I’m saying back, they aren’t my kids, but it’s been a bit of a challenge to me to question, how much more would I care about those stares if they were?

It’s a curious thing to ponder. The decisions we make at cross roads in lives and the massive consequences that can have to what our life looks like today or in the future. And even the day to day often thoughtless decisions we make that actually have a huge impact on so many different things.

I think of the relationships I have pursued, the ones I have chosen to let go, the ones that just naturally faded and the ones I haven’t been willing to let end. The friendships I have missed out on and the ones that have enriched my life. The places and people I have chosen to live with, the areas or even country. So much of this has a massive influence on me. It’s scary how many of those decisions therefore have been made unconsciously.

But for all the weight of the different lives that could be mine if I had made a different decision, chosen a different place or even pushed or let go of a different friendship / relationship, I am honestly pretty chuffed and very blessed to say I am really happy with the one I am living.

I am so blessed by the people that are around me who bring me so much life and joy, I am (although often frustrated when I compare myself to others) really happy with where I am and what I have achieved or not achieved and I can’t really think of anything I regret. Because although I have made plenty of mistakes, some bad calls and just done some really stupid things they have brought me to who I am today.

And I know the future holds many more mistakes (I certainly hope so, they often teach me much bigger lessons than my successes), many more conscious and unconscious decisions and many more opportunities to live one of the many lives I could live. But dwelling on the ‘what if’s’ of future or the past doesn’t help me appreciate the present. So for all the ‘what if’s’ I am only where I am now, no further and no different. And for me this realization is kinda scary but also immensely liberating. I am free to be who I am now, free to let the future worry about itself and the past be a reminder of who I have become.

So as much as it is fascinating to ponder, to wonder at the lives I am not living, all I can  do is make the most of the one I am living and appreciate it and make the most of it for everything it’s worth!

For so long I have brushed to the side the thought of imaginary friends, or pets as weird. That to see things that don’t exist makes you abnormal, strange, maybe even delusional.

Yet the more I hang out with children the more I long to see as they do. To not have to pretend I that I can see the horse but actually have the imagination to see it. To come up with an animal that doesn’t exist, to draw it, to see something more than what is just on the paper, to enable something to come alive.

Maybe you’re thinking, that is a little strange, schitzo or even just downright odd, but follow my train of thought for a little bit and maybe you’ll join with me.

I often get really disheartened by the state of the world, depressed even. Overwhelmed by the sorry state we constantly push each other into, there is so much pain and hurt. The darkness within each of us that taint’s and scars the beauty. I so often just see gray. I cannot see past the dysfunctional, degrading, destructive patterns this world has woven so tightly.

I don’t know if you have been following world or even state news recently. But the Occupy movement that started in the States will help give a good example. People are finally protesting against the ways in which the rich and wealthy twist and orientate the system to serve their purposes at the expense of those at the bottom, with no accountability to health of the society as a whole. But the criticism I keep hearing about the occupy movement is, yes there is a problem, but they don’t have a solution. What do they want to fix and how do they want to fix it? They have no purpose.

Now how does the occupy movement relate to my seeing the world in gray and children and imaginary pets. Well I think the link is that as a society we have stopped imagining. By the age of somewhere between the age of 3-11 (from my observations anyway) we tell children that if they can’t see it, it’s not real. Imaginary friends don’t exist, you can’t have conversations with them (because it’s weird & they don’t exist), you cannot capture an imaginary canary you cannot see, you cannot describe a picture you can’t see. All of this is true, but the underlying message we tell the kids is, stop imagining. If you can’t see it, it’s not there.

The occupy movement is struggling to come up with a plan, and those around (non supporters) struggle to even understand why they are even gathering to have this conversation or try and initiate or express frustration. Why? Because, I believe, as a society we have lost the initiative to imagine outside what we know and what we can see. We fail to envisage a society that is based upon something other than capitalism or communism (I’m not making a political statement about either just saying that we can’t see anything else, it’s a two box option).

As a believer in a God I cannot see and a believer in a Kingdom that is coming that has not yet come, I have an issue with the fact that as a society we have lost the imagination to see things that aren’t.

So it is in this context that I am beginning to again understand the verse Luke 18: 16-17,

But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

So please as you encounter children with imaginations greater than your own, don’t shut them down, but rather attempt to see through their eyes. Begin to see things that cannot been seen, begin to imagine things that are yet to come. Expand your imagination with theirs. Become like a child and see with innocence the wonder and possibilities of this world. Because if as Christians we believe that we have been given the task of beginning to bring about God’s Kingdom, to redeem and restore colour to this gray world in which we live, we need all the imagination we can get.

Being a nanny, something I am learning is how much children teach you about integrity.

As someone who is nurturing and shaping the children I nanny for, in the same way a parent does (I swear I feel like a surrogate day parent sometimes), I am coming face to face with the words I use to affirm the kids actions, the things I am teaching them as right & wrong and my own actions.

Let me give an example, the middle child throws a train at his brother in frustration and I reprimand him with, ‘uh uh we don’t throw’. Not 3 minutes later as we are clearing away the trains I am throwing the trains into the box to put them away. I have just told the kids we don’t throw, yet I do it myself. Sometimes they even call me up on it. My excuse? ‘I have a good aim’?? The throwing thing is small for sure and now the rule is we don’t throw hard things, we throw balls and soft things, but that means for me too. No matter my aim.

When I took this job, decided to become a nanny I don’t think I realised the insight it would give me into myself. The constant checking that my actions are matching my words, in the small as well as the big things. Not promising things I intend not to fulfill even if I am tired and just doing my automated response. Realising that my actions actually teach the kids more than my words. That as a significant adult figure in their life, I am teaching them about what life means, how to think, respond and act.

It isn’t a small responsibility. It’s really a rather large one, and one that I don’t think I fully realised how much responsibility I was getting myself into. But that said, how amazing! That a 1 year old, 2 year old and 4 year old are teaching me about life, about what life means, about how I act, about who I am in my frustrated moments as well as the beautiful ones. That these 3 beautiful kids are teaching me how to be a better person when I’m tired, angry or upset. Revealing to me my worst. Teaching me to respond better, to nurture and be a better role model.

What a beautiful and challenging thing. That as they learn off me, I am forced to look at myself and try and make sure I am being the best me that they can learn off.

It can be so easy to ignore, not think that our actions teach the children around us, but if we take kids seriously, listen to them and value them we may learn a thing or two ourselves. Integrity being one of them.

Since I wrote this blog however I think I have realized a couple of things as I have gone about trying to be true to who I am, both creative and social justice me.

I am a feeling person. And so often my heart breaks when I hear news stories or reflect back on the lives of beautiful children I met in South Africa and how for them societal, cultural as well as situational causes for their oppression and abuse continue. I often feel hopeless. What can I do about rape, sexual abuse, sex trafficking or disability, ill health, mental illness, famine, natural disasters, murder, violence, war??… you get my point. These are problems so much bigger than what I can handle.
And I reflect on the ways that so many of the children and families fall into the gaps of the care that is needed from the measurable offered care provided by ngo’s and govt; by ‘development’.
I am overwhelmed. I cannot change a country, a society, a community or even a person. More importantly and disempowering to me, I feel there is nothing I can do to help.

Jump with me now to the creativity. I love being creative, having something that you can recreate, make new, make beautiful, mold and shape. Listening to things that inspire me, surrounding myself with beauty that leaves me in awe of an almighty God.

Now for so long I don’t know why I felt that there was such a gap. That I should be made to feel almost guilty to appreciate and love beauty in it’s raw form and expression because it is in such a juxtaposition with the pain and overwhelming sadness that pain and suffering brings.

But I wonder if you have seen the connection yet, that I missed for so long. Creativity is needed, no essential, in redeeming this fucked up earth. (full on language, unnecessary I can here my mother say, but when you allow the pain the world feels to actually hit your heart you realise how true it is. If you don’t think so take a good look at some real news, go ask for a story from those who are oppressed and suffering and then tell me my language is too harsh).

How else can we think of ways of redeeming systems that rape and pillage the very earth and people God said was good? We need creativity, raw beauty, we need it as inspiration to think creatively about change.

Seriously without creativity I would be a very sombre and depressed person. Feeling all the pain but seeing no hope. But the more I engage with beauty and creativity the more hope I find in seeing the realization of the redemption of this earth through the coming of Gods kingdom.

So please take up your pencils, pens, paints, recycling, wool, guitar, camera and clay. Let your creative juices run wild creating from nothing / junk into something beautiful. Let your imagination begin to drift out of conventional patterns as it wonders to met with the outrageous mind of God. Then be inspired to take that with you, past just art tools and into life, into your small and large problems, into the problems of societies and culture. Begin again to imagine, uninhibited what a world full of beauty and joy looks like. And then step into that reality.

That is my prayer.

How do these two worlds combine? My seriousness and my fun side.

Now I am inviting you to enter into my annoying (and apparently a little anxty at the time I wrote this) brain for a minute…

So often I think I should blog about that and then I think, oh but the social justice people following my blog will think that I am shallow. Because posting that I own forty something dresses or going to music concerts alongside saying that I am passionate about the poor and want to help elevate poverty, well clearly buying dresses and going to concerts isn’t making that stop!

Sometimes I want to post something about my serious thoughts, or even come from my Christian perspective (because it is such a massive part of who I am and how I view the world). But I struggle again, because I can’t post that link on facebook because maybe all my facebook friends don’t know I’m Christian, or maybe people will think I’m preaching at them. Or that people following me for the creative, music side will go ‘what the?’.

Now a lot of these insecurities come from being afraid of what others will think. Which is a major downer of my personality type (and just who I am). But you know what. I am working through it and I am determined to be me.

I am creative, I am passionate about injustice, I think about things, I question things, I challenge the dominate thought, I agree with it, I love dresses and expressing my creativity through clothes and I love listening to live music.

As much as I want to say, I don’t care what you think. I really do. But I think I finally don’t care enough to let it stop me. This is my blog. It expresses whatever I am feeling and wanting to express at that time. As I learn more about myself, I’ll share it. I’ll share the special memories and the excitement of as I begin to make new ones, my essays of my current thinking and my passion for helping others.

I live life in a balance. The tension of the extravagance and beauty of art in tension with the destitution of war and conflict that oppresses beautiful people. I am constantly thinking through how do these balance in my life.

Where is the line between giving too much of oneself and thinking to much of oneself? Enough time for me, so that there is more quality time for others. How can I be healthy with the passions and things that bring me energy and life?

So critique away. Say that owning that many dresses is a sin. Judge me. Because I actually need to no longer care. I need to stop justifying my self and my blogs (ha I am amused by the original draft so I left it in but crossed it out… great example of what I just wrote… oh dear!). I think things through most of the time, so if you don’t know me well enough to call me up on something, you probably don’t know how much thought I’ve put into making sure I’m doing right by people. (gosh I was in a anxty mood when I drafted this).

So that is my combining of two worlds. So in light of saying, ‘I need to stop justifying myself and my blogs’, I have just justified that there is a need for these seemly separate worlds to co-exist and the need to say this. I hope you enjoyed me justifying to myself that God loves my creativity and my heart for others. That He gets the tension and loves that I / we live in it. And now I’d just like to say thanks to God that He has a beautiful creative plan for the redemption of our messed up world combine both these separate worlds and many others in bringing His Kingdom.

NOTE: I should note that I wrote this a couple of months ago whilst I had no internet… so not necessarily my mood currently… feel I have done better at this actually which is a lovely thing!

Since I can only really generalize other people’s experiences let me talk from a personal level. The journey through the question of ‘who am I’ has been a big one for me. One I have been asking every year since finishing high school.

And although the journey has been a lot deeper on the inside, the spoken and generic answer, when asked by others has often been defined by the actual question they ask. Defining ourselves by the question of ‘what do you do?’

I have done a lot and been a lot of different things and had many different occupations since finishing school. A camp hand working full time, a bible college student, an administrative assistant, a volunteer, a community development assistant, a teacher, a office cleric, a university student, unemployed and a nanny… just to name a few.

I have also done a lot of things that don’t generally get included when listing occupations, but things that have been significant and have required much time and energy. Throughout the above occupations, I have lived at home, done an internship with TEAR, moved out of home, lived away from family and friends, moved out of home again, moved away from family and friends again, worked various part-time jobs, committed myself to various roles, organisations and churches just to name a few.

Interesting thing is for a lot of those times I have been trying to understand this question of who am I? Many of the reasons I have done things have been motivated by that exact question. Many of the above occupations and things I have done with my life have had significant impact on who I see myself as and who I am trying to define myself to be.

It’s a question that, for me, won’t lie low. One that even in the past few months I find myself repeating in stories and lines I tell my friends. The proud moment of presenting some lovely baked goods as hospitality and showing off just as proudly my paintballing bruise and going ‘who am I?’ or waking up early to go do exercise and thinking, ‘who am I?’ The seemingly out of character things I find myself doing and yet I enjoy immensely.

The sarcastic ‘who am I’ that came up in conversations more than 5 times… a Freudian slip some might say and I think it may just have been.

My unconscious was clearly showing me that it was something I was struggling with, something I couldn’t articulate or put my finger on where the source of my discomfort was coming from.

Then the other night I the light bulb goes off… not only do I not know ‘who I am’… I am never going to know ‘who I am’.

I think I may just have finally realised that every box I put myself into is going to be too small. Because I am not one thing, I am not even 50. I am infinite number of boxes or labels because it is pointless trying to work out what they all are in order to define myself. Because I am in fact not a box or label nor am I made up of boxes or labels.

I am madly passionate about Social Justice and seeing redemption in this broken world, but that does not have to be juxtaposed with my passion for creativity. I love learning but I also love just doing nothing sometimes. I love having real conversations with people about the things that really matter but I also love having fun. I love knitting but I also love playing in the mud and getting my hands dirty.

As much as my heart isn’t sitting so well with it yet, my head is finally getting it. I don’t need to be one that it excludes the other. Or be a pie chart that gives percentages and therefore show clearly that I love one thing more than another.

The entire question is ridiculous. Because I guarantee once you have it figured, there will be a situation forcing you to grow, learn and become a greater version of the person you just figured yourself out to be.

The question of ‘who am I’ is one that we are never meant to figure out. Because once we know ‘who we are’ we can no longer grow.

The question of ‘who am I’ is actually not a question at all but rather a narrative to the story of our life. A constant discovery, an unending treasure chest that life rewards us with. The more of life we see, the richer our understanding is of who we are.

It’s the journey of self-discovery that has no ending.

So, who am I?  I am many things, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a creator, a baker, a talker, a listener, an adventurer, a singer, a dancer, a walker, a reader, a writer and a thinker to name a few. But I am not a neat box and I don’t know fully who I am.

I am however on a journey of self-discovery, learning more about myself each day and learning to be comfortable in the messy me shaped package in which I come.

Since writing this blog (2 weeks ago… no internet meant it couldn’t get posted) my Mum gave me a new children’s book. It’s a Dr. Seuss book. May I just say, Thank you God for creating a man who could put things simply and cleverly and still convey so much meaning within so few words.

This book is called My Many Coloured Days.  And for me it sums up this feeling and question of ‘who am I?’

I own a copy, it is a beautiful book, I would highly recommend picking it up if your in a children’s book shop or asking if you can lend or have a read sometime. Seriously one of my favourite children’s book for it’s simplicity and yet complexity in asking that question.