counting them

I found myself some beautiful leather boots for my birthday (June 25 I'll be 23).

Ryan lost his ATM card in Thailand and wrote me about how it brought the eternal perspective to him with such immediacy and beauty that it brought tears to my eyes.

Anneli is on her way to do disaster relief in New Orleans.

Craig encouraged me that I'm an extremely grounded person with right foundations and so even though I'm young and currently living a life blown around by the wind, this is the only time I'll have to do that and I'm doing it really well.

Amy and I skyped yesterday.

I talked to my parents for the first time in about three weeks and spent nearly two hours on the phone with them.

Lunch after church at St. Andrews was true fellowship around a delicious meal shared together.

Coffee after church at Hillsong Women was companionable and intimate time shared between loving girlfriends.

My community is in three or four locations and about five timezones, and though I am aware of the strain of this fragmentation it is ok right now. It is where I am right now.

Sometimes I can't stand the emptiness of the space between my own breaths. Sometimes I have these moments where I feel like the waiting, the not knowing, the excruciating slowness is too much for me to endure. But I look at my life and I find it blessed, and full, and missional. I take up the next thing in front of me and try to live in faithfulness and action. And the joy I have found is like nothing on earth. May it spill over and show them God.

untitled

Things are different before a storm. The light goes faintly green and all of a sudden the frames of your doors of perception are slanted enough to make everything changed. You look through this watery light at the faces of people you knew and they seem both clearer and more indistinct. What you knew is brought into question and what you did not know is become obvious. The buildings are different, too. One garden gate bangs restlessly, no longer content to be a welcoming entrance. It wants to seek the world itself, not merely receive those who have seen places it cannot go. My curls have changed as well, becoming both more tender and more fierce. It is the rain in the air that softens them, bends them gently to the hand that strokes, but it is the wind, the textured wind, that lifts them from limp compliance into a substantial living independence.

There is no one to share this with. In telling it cannot be conveyed, it is for me and me alone. When the sun in all its straightforwardness shines tomorrow I will once more be blue skied blue eyed, and yet these slanted layers of subtlety will remain tucked in some corner of my mind to bloom out again, richer than before, in the next graygreen storm light. I will remember how it was true.

After the disaster that was Wednesday night the last thing I expected was for Nic to call me at 10:30 the next morning and ask me to come in at 12, thereby giving me another 7 hours, and then again another 1.5 today, but that's exactly what happened. I figure the Lord works in mysterious ways, and he answered all that prayer :)

Last night a woman I met at St. Andrew's invited me over to her boyfriend's house for dinner for the three of us, then a fourth friend dropped in, then we all drove back into Bondi for a community concert fundraiser for a homeless shelter. I had fun hanging out with people in a casual setting and just chatting about stuff, and then the concert was good. I don't mean it was a good concert - there were about 8 groups I heard and talent varied from okay to truly good, but after a bit I sank into appreciation mode and became willing to receive what I could from the musicians. Even the a cappella choir singing songs from the 60's about pollution. My friend Craig was one of the acts and he sang three of his own songs, accompanying himself on piano. Vocally he sounds a lot like Rufus Wainwright only not so depressed, and the piano part reminded me of Ray Charles, intimate jazz.

So it was cool. I had thoughts provoked and talked about things with God and finished off the night sitting on the cliffs near my house singing songs at the moon.

full on

I've been whingeing about my job for the last couple days trying to figure out how to snaggle more hours. I still love my job. I just don't love working 20 hours a week. Finally today I decided to just start handing out resumes to other places to work, hopefully (best scenario) getting a second part-time job in the mornings and working at Sabbaba afternoons and evenings. But I also decided to try to ask for more hours every time I have a shift this week, just put it out there as Nic's signing us out so that he gets it in his head. So I planned to be extra brilliant and cheerful and perceptive and handle everything with alacrity to prepare the way for making him glad to give me extra hours.

And of course, everything that could go wrong went wrong. I've never, ever had a shift like this at Sabbaba. I've never had stress affect me. Even when it's nuts I'm quite merry. But not tonight. I messed up a couple orders, sure, and one badly, but here was the main thing: as far as Nic's concerned, I broke the cash register (I didn't really but hey, what do my excuses matter) so we had an hour of understaffed crazy-mad-rush time with no register, just him and me. There was this palpable black cloud hanging over him and I was like, Beware of lightning bolts. Nic's really a sweet tempered guy, too, so when he said to me, "You'll just have to handle your own orders for now. Don't ask me any more questions because I can't talk to you," I was like, oh crap. I'm going to get fired. Thanks to my last job I've acquired the skill to breathe normally and speak normally (i.e. act professionally) when the stress is squeezing my insides dry, but my brains do slow down a bit and of course that's not great during a mad-rush time with your manager furious at you - it just compounds everything.

By the time my break came around Natalie had come in and Nic was recovering his temper though I still felt completely in disgrace, and I just made my falafel to take home instead of eating on my break. I ran for my whole breaktime. Speaking Gospel truth to myself. Breathing the name Yahweh as I breathed out. Naming myself clothed in righteousness and a daughter and claiming promises, and when I was done my armor was thick again and I could bounce and smile once more. Nic was pretty much all better too, and by the end of the shift he could share excitedly with me about this holiday he's taking in a few weeks and tease me, "Look what you did," when a bag I handed to a customer across the counter knocked the straws onto the floor.

But still. It was not the night to ask for more hours.

These are the guys who live across the street from me. One of them came to sit on the deck railing about four feet from me as I talked to Anneli on the phone this morning.



Rainbow lorikeets, in case you wondered :)

rocks harder than diamonds

This weekend was so terrific. Friday night I hung out with four girls at Shannon's apartment and we watched one of those weird foreign art films that just got too strange so we quit in the middle. I slept over and it was beautiful to wake up Saturday and sip tea in the morning sun in Shannon's living room with a couple of great girls. Then I worked and when I got off I went to the beach because the moon was rising as the sun was setting - WOW!!! Walked in the twilight for an hour, came home, went for a run (my first since moving here) and watched a bit of a movie with my housemates before sleeping for almost 11 hours.

Sunday, gosh, too much amazing stuff to detail. Church in the morning at the groovy little Anglican place down the road, met people, it's a happy friendly Bible teaching Jesus following place with really good espresso drinks made back of the pew seating section, pastor has a long ponytail and plays acoustic guitar, really solid meaty teaching, really solid present people. Oh, and the yard next door where the wild parrots live? I met the people who live there!

Church in the afternoon from The Rock via podcast while soaking up the sun and the corner of an ocean view we have from my house's back balcony. Mmmm.

Church in the evening at Hillsong where I am now officially involved in ministry, part of Shannon's team that invites people to Hillsong Women so I get to just connect up with girls I see who look a bit lost or by themselves and stuff, and just chat, and bring up Hillsong Women if it seems natural and tell them how awesome it is. Blessing other women as I was blessed. Love it love it love it. I got to talk with a girl who accepted Christ during the service, and it was awesome!!!!!! Also I finally found two people who are going to help me find what I can do volunteer-wise with Hillsong in Bondi. YAY!!!

I'm bananas for Jesus.

I'm not real big on signs, but...

So two days ago I posted about wanting to be more active in stuff here, and listed some thoughts I had for how to do that. I published my post and walked out the door to see what was in the neighborhood where I could be a cheerful helping hand doing whatever was needed. And three minutes down the road from my house I notice an Anglican church, St. Andrew's. The door was locked, Wednesday 1:30pm, but I paused for two seconds to read the notice board next to the entryway. This is when the too-many-coincidences-to-be-coincidences began to happen.
1. A man (Craig) immediately arrives and unlocks the door and invites me in.
2. I introduce myself and my mission and Craig offers two things they need help with: making espresso drinks for the single-moms creche on Tuesdays, and the music ministry, of which he is head. (I came to Sydney with the intention of working at a coffee shop, and I've just recently decided that I want to help women, and obviously I sing.)
3. Craig invites me to sing with him and Nicole right then and there. The first song he pulls out is Summertime. The song I almost always sing when someone randomly asks me to sing something.
4. Darren is introduced to me. Darren is just getting a ministry for backpackers off the ground. I, being a backpacker, am drafted to help.
5. The next person who comes in is told, "This is Julie. She was sent to us by God."

So today was St. Andrew's Thursday morning "Cafe Harmony" featuring free coffee and free music. I got to sing jazz for three hours. Wow. Wow. And it's literally three minutes away. My community church!!! Expect the unexpected where God is concerned.

life to the full

I am excited to say that I think I want to plunge full-on into life here in Sydney. As many of you know, my jobs and activities the last many months have left me with lots of free time. I'm now ready to be more occupied than I have been since I left college. First off I'm going to ask for more hours at work, or possibly find a second job. Secondly I'm going to try to get deep into ministries or volunteering at Hillsong Church. I'm a bit limited in that I don't have a car and church is in the city, a bus and a train ride away. So I'm also going to see if local churches have anything I could help out with as well. Thirdly I'm going to pursue friendships with some of the awesome girls I've met at Hillsong and also try to meet people from Hillsong who live in my suburb. I want your ideas too! I want to put my heart and my mind and my hands to use to bless others as I have been blessed. I'm eager but undirected.

Today as I was putting on makeup there came a pounding at the door. I leaned out the window and shouted, Just a second! When I'd pulled on a sweater and gone to unlock the door I found two men in blue shirts on the stoop. "We're detectives from the New South Wales police force," one of them said, flashing a badge. "Is Robert X at home?"
Turns out Rob's family hadn't heard from him in a month, he wasn't answering his cell phone, and they were very worried that something had happened to him. "Oh," I said. "Well, I saw him night before last, he cleaned the kitchen. He seems fine. He works at Darling Harbour at some restaurant. He's gone most of the time. I think I'm the only one in the house right now. No, I don't have his number or the name of where he works. I've only lived here a week. Yes, I'll leave him your card and a note to call you the minute he gets back no matter what time it is." The detectives took my mobile number and shortly thereafter I got a message from a constable asking me to call him back so he could ask me some more questions about the details of when I last saw Rob. However, before I returned his call I discovered at noon while trying to slip a note under his door that Rob had been asleep in his room the whole time. So I handed him the note and business card and told him I was passing on the responsibility to phone the police and/or his parents and tell everyone he was still alive. He groaned. "My mum's just ridiculous. And my sister knows my mobile's broken. OK. Cheers." "You're welcome," I said.

It's funny because up until this morning I had not seen a single police car or policeman since I arrived in Australia. And now I meet hired detectives flashing their badges at me, looking for my flatmate.

comfort me with raisin cakes

Nic. the night shift manager. who looks like Ricky Martin. is awesome. because he buys organic dried figs and sultanas and offers to share. and yesterday (my second day in a row of double shifts that resulted in a twenty-hour weekend) after four hours of nonstop mad rush at work he waves this carryout 4-cup holder thing with a single drink in it under my nose and asks diffidently, Julie, do you want a latte? Nic! I said. I would love a latte. That would be brilliant.
(No, he doesn't like me; I'm pretty sure he's gay.)

Ricky's music therapy cafe oasis

So I work as a waitress/ falafel maker/ counter girl at Sabbaba, a corner café open for lunch and dinner, owned by Israelis, staffed by people from all over the globe, serves mainly falafel and kebabs in pitas or on a plate. I really like work. The sign outside says Sababba. Food. Music. Friends. And this post is about the music.

During the day shift (12-5) Ortal and Ayelet generally are working and they play what seems like the same three remix cd’s over and over and there’s some terrible stuff, like this one that goes Hey child, stay wild, or one that goes Don’t say a prayer for me now / save it for the morning after, in this very morose sappy 80’s pop-ballad style. And then after 5 Nic the night shift manager takes over and it shifts to ultra-synth-dance stuff occasionally intermixed with Fleetwood Mac or Dido or the like.

But during the day shift, take five strides to land you in the kitchen and wow. Ricky’s music therapy oasis. Ricky is the day cook. He’s from Fiji (our night cook being Aziz from India) and has been growing his dreds for five years. I already knew Ricky had wicked taste in music, and if he was playing it, it was pretty certain I was going to like it. Pink Floyd. Check. A little REM. Check. Reggae. Check. And today… today was God’s gift to me in the form of Welcome to Ricky’s music therapy cafe, today we’re serving all your favorites cause we know you need them. I’d never heard Ricky play any of this stuff before but here it was, The Doors followed by Red Hot Chili Peppers. OHHH yesss. Riders on the Storm, Touch Me, Backdoor Man, Break on Through. Even before I fell over in astonishment to hear Jim Morrison’s vocals out back I’d volunteered to wash dishes for a half hour just so I could soak up Ricky’s reggae (what’s the name of that song that goes “What I really want to know / oh my baby / what I really want to say” – we had a blast harmonizing to it), then when he started playing Doors and RHCP I would do my job up front in the foggy atmosphere created by my depressed mood, Ayelet’s bad mood and Ortal’s bad music until I had to go surface in the kitchen to let Jim’s sedated hedonism breathe fresh life into me. And then Over the Bridge, Otherside, Parallel Universe. And it was Good.

something about being here

One of the Irish boys has put a pair of pants in the freezer with a note on the door saying Please don't move the jeans, M.

I discovered what birds are making all the noise in the mornings. It's just the wild parrots in the neighbor's tree.

The thing I miss most about the States is the existence of the letter R in speech.

There're these cliffs all around the wiggly coastline in the Sydney area, including where I am in Bondi in the eastern suburbs, and last night I was restless and pensive and sad so I went for a walk and a think. I ended up at the shaggy-grassy coastal golf course that's five minutes away (you can just walk onto the green, and it was unlit so no one was trying to golf) and lay on the rocks five feet from the unfenced cliff egde and the sixty foot drop to the sea. Stared at the stars. prayed. and finally took off my shoes and danced in the dark wind.

I am loving it here.

welcome!

new place, new light, new beginnings, new blog.