holidays

Sam and I are leaving today for a holiday. We are spending the week at MacMaster's for lots of beach, walks, books, BBQs and Carcassonne.

When we planned our holiday, we didn't realise that it would fall on either side of New Year's Eve, so it will be the first time we celebrate the new year with just the two of us. I'm thinking fish and chips on the beach, or down to the Entrance for backyard fireworks and drinks at a dodgy pub somewhere.

It's hard to believe 2007 is nearly over; this year has gone by so fast! It feels like only a while ago that I was getting ready for a wedding.

Our first year of marriage has been like putting on a piece of clothing that feels new, yet old and familiar at the same time. There have been many new things to get used to, ways of behaving that come with sharing your life so closely with another person. But then there's the ease and familiarity of sharing in what we've always had - companionship, encouragement, fun and like-mindedness. Sam is my best friend. He always will be.

Marriage doesn't solve everything, though, nor was our first year of "wedded bliss" an escape from reality. I still had times when I felt tired, angry, sad, frustrated. And yes, lonely. The problems I had before I got married were still waiting for me on the other side of our honeymoon. Being joined to another person didn't change that. I had to make some really hard decisions, go through painful, awful things and constantly rely on God for strength and wisdom - just as I had when I was single. I thank God for our family and friends, those who loved and supported us, laughed with us and encouraged us this year. Sometimes, being part of a "two" is not enough.

Yesterday, after wrestling hard with something, I jokingly said to Sam, "you're my husband - tell me what the right thing to do is, and I'll do it! Fix this part of my life!"
"I can't," he said, not even stirring from where he was napping on the bed.
"Why not?" I expected some meaningful spiel about me having to take responsibility for my own life and deal with things myself, etc.
"Because I have no idea what you should do either."

Hmph.

But that is marriage; two imperfect people, stumbling together and trying follow Jesus as best they can. I thank God for leading us so graciously through 2007, for the joys, pains and lessons that he gave to us. Bring on the next year!

honey, I baked...

An update on banana bread:

I tried Bill Granger's recipe (thanks Soph) - it turned out reasonably well, except I didn't bake it for long enough and the centre was a little mushy.

But after reading my post, my friend Em presented me one evening, when we were over at her place for dinner, with a loaf of banana and blueberry bread - a birthday gift. It was great - moist, dense yet not heavy, sweet yet not sugary. I'm not surprised, because Em has always been the foodie out of my school friends.

She passed on the recipe and I tried it, anticipating the same result. Instead, I got a springy cake which tasted more like honey than banana.

Why? Why? What did I do wrong???

I think I may have beat the eggs, sugar and bananas a little too much. And I used low-fat vanilla yoghurt as my dairy substitute, instead of sour cream or buttermilk. I didn't sift the flour very well either (don't have a proper sifter).

I suck at baking.

Visions of my future children racing home to the smell of freshly baked cookies and muffins have been replaced with tiny teddy packets and cakes of the Betty Crocker "mix and pour" variety.

visitors.

I heard light knocking on my door this morning while I was alone, washing my hair.

At first I ignored it, hoping the salesperson would take the hint and go away, until the knocking became pounding, then a loud banging, more insistent and rapid by the second. Annoyed, I quickly changed, wrapped my hair in the towel and grabbed the keys, mentally making note of which neighbours were home should I open the door to an intruder with a weapon. Keys at the ready in my white knuckles, ready for jabbing and gouging in case of an unwanted attack, I slowly peeled open the door.

There stood a stocky, young man with skin the colour of ebony and a dark, greying afro. Behind him was a young lady in a mu-mu, wearing a worn expression and a baby slung across her breast. A little boy in a faded blue tracksuit bopped slightly on the doorstep, his tiny face glowing amidst a mass of curls. The man held in his hands a paper magazine, labelled "The Watchtower".

"Good afternoon. We're here to talk to you about crime. Don't you think there's a lot of crime in this area?"
"Hmmm...I guess so". I thought of the sirens I often heard blaring down Parramatta Road in the middle of the night.
"And do you think someone is going to put a stop to it - to one day end all this violence and pain?"
"I do, in fact."
"Great! Who?"
I uttered the name we had in common, and he grinned at me like we were both on the winning team.

I invited them in, mainly because I couldn't leave his wife and children standing awkwardly on the doorstep. A part of me suspected that was what he was banking on, but I tried not to dwell on it.

Inside, over cups of tea and leftover Christmas lollies which quickly dispappeared into the young boy's mouth, he began.

He talked to me about lots of things. How Satan launched war on earth in 1914 (as predicted in Matthew), causing WWI, and Jesus had appointed people on earth to rule. How any Christian that celebrated Jesus' birth on Christmas Day (as opposed to only his death at Easter) did not belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. How lepers were welcome on Noah's Ark and were healed by touching excrement (I asked him where in the Bible this story came from, he said he'd find it for me later). How narrow is the path to God, so Christians need to learn what they need to do in order to be in the Kingdom of heaven. How Jehovah was not going to create a new earth, but instead "clean up" the old one. The cross, he warned me with a wagging finger, was an evil invention. Jesus died on a stick, not a cross. Any church that displayed the cross did not please Jehovah.

I mostly listened, then gave my point of view. I told him about Jesus, how having a relationship with Him wash the way to God, how His grace meant there is nothing we can do to be right with God, how obedience flowed on from slavation, not the other way around. I told him about the sign of Noah - how it was a powerful symbol for the coming judgement of God and the refuge that could be found in Christ. I think I spoke for only about a quarter of the time we spent together.

The family left in the end, grateful that I had taken the time to chat with them, disappointed that I would not adopt their point of view. As I closed the door and dried my hair, I realised how weak I am when it comes to contending for the faith. I am hopeless when it comes to arguing against a point. While I can read a comment to pick up the heart of the issue, I can't do it within the space of a conversation. I'm also unable to remember where in the Bible certain things are said. I know all the truths, but I couldn't tell you where they are. For the first time, I regretted my teenage arrogance whenever apologetic courses of 'dealing with tough questions' seminars were avertised. "Who needs bible verses?" I used to scoff. "My faith is not mechanical or perscriptive! Surely it's the heart that matters". I could have used those verses today.

But I also realised that when I am weak, God is strong. If I were a great apologist or debater, articulate and well versed in the Scriptures, my words alone would still be powerless to change the heart of my visitors. It was like a veil had been pulled over their eyes. Only the Spirit can left the veil and melt hearts; only the Spirit can reveal the truth to us.

So I prayed. And I continue to pray - for His Spirit to descend on people and reveal the truth about Jesus, and for myself - that I may be equipped to better proclaim His name.

books

Unread and waiting on my bookshelf:

The Gathering by Anne Enright
The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon
Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Pierced for our Transgressions by Jeffery, Ovey & sach
The Infinite Plan by Isabelle Allende
The Nanny Diaries by Nicola Kraus and emma McLaughlin
About a Boy by Nick Hornby
Middlesex by Jeffrey Euganides

Read so far these holidays:

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

I haven't bought a new book in years - most of these books were gifts or purchased second hand. I only ever read in the holidays, or maybe on the weekends as it's hard to find the motivation to read during the week when that's all I do in my job. I'm looking forward to getting stuck into it.

Preaching

I'm preaching at 11pm tonight at Church, as well as for the next two weeks on Sunday nights on 2 and 3 John. Drop in if you're around the area. I'm really excited about the parts of the word I'm going to be opening up. God is very kind in what he has written for us, and I think there are a lot of timely things to be thinking about as a church family in 2 and 3 John especially.

on my wish list...

The Great Big Glorious Big for Girls by Rosemary Vine and Sarah Davidson.

I almost bought this as a Christmas present for someone while at Dymocks yesterday. The girl's version of the Dangerous Book for Boys, it's full of great things to do with your daughter, like making daisy chains, baking cakes, having tea parties, sewing your own cushions. I would love to share it with my little girl one day (God willing).

But just in case you're not a sugar-and-spice kind of girl who goes to gingerbread nights, there's also a tomboy version:
The Daring Book for Girls by Andrea Buchanan and Miriam Peskowitz, complete with karate moves and science projects.

It's interesting that while the girl versions catered for both the outdoor/indoor kind of girl, there was no version for the boy who likes to stay at home, read books and draw. Society can readily accept girls being whoever they choose, but for boys, the macho/mummy's boy stereotypes are still rife.

the art of being happy

I turned 25 on Friday.

The day passed with much celebration as I did all the things I’m not supposed to – eating sausage rolls for breakfast, drinking cold beer with lunch, betraying an uncanny knowledge of all the words and actions to the Spice Girls' Stop at the work Christmas party.

Sam and I had agreed to forgo presents this year so we can buy a new couch, but he surprised me when I arrived home from work with a "relax" pack - a gift bag with mangoes, strawberries, face masks and body butter. Later that night, we met some good friends from church for drinks at the Royal Oak in Balmain. The pub isn't the flashiest in the inner-west and it's definitely not the most popular, but I love it - from the faux chandeliers and brick that smells like smoke to the eclectic decor upstairs (Sam likes it because they have Scharers Lager on tap). It turned out to be a great night.

When I think back to all the birthdays I've had, I can only clearly recall a few. My seventh birthday party - playing games in my garden with classmates from school. My 21st - I didn't want a big party, but dad surprised me by booking a large table at a Thai restaurant for all of my friends. He then pretended to be drunk (oh my father the minister) so I would have to leave home early, then surprised me again by having my friends hide in our house for cake. Then there was last year - some girls from work surprised me with Dolce and Gabbana perfume and lunch at a cafe. I was so touched they even knew it was my birthday.

Those were all good birthdays, but only because someone else had made it that way. This year was the first time I took that responsibility upon myself and simply did what I wanted, without worrying about what was expected of me, or what other people would prefer, or what I should do on my birthday.

Sometimes, especially for those who constantly feel the need to gain approval from others, there’s a big difference between who we really are and who we think we should be.

New Year’s Eve is a prime example. How many times have we forced ourselves to brave drunken crowds and noisy parties because it’s the done thing, when all we really wanted to do was stay at home with the family and a bottle of wine, or hang out at the beach with five really good friends?

It's a funny, selfish-sounding lesson to learn, but there is a blessed joy in learning how to be happy in your own skin. As a self confessed people-pleaser, it's something I've been learning for the first time this year, and an art I hope to continue to refine as I grow older.

Organised fun.

The team I’m currently working with loves office-bonding games and activities. So far we’ve had:

“Guess the baby” competition – everyone brings in their baby photo and they all get displayed on a wall, then we have to guess who is who;
A staff cookbook, filled with recipes from everyone on the team;
Trivia quizzes;
An internal newsletter which profiles different team members and features funny parodies about life in the office;
Guess the sex, weight and length of our editor’s baby-to-be;
End-of-the-last-three-months Friday cake – a birthday celebration for everyone those months, the kind where everyone sings, “haappee birthday to Alex/David/Nicola/Julia” then falls about laughing;
Team soccer games;
Team beach volley ball games;
Bohemian Rapsody, rewritten to include each of the staff members and performed at our Christmas party (I kid you not).

I have never been a big fan of “organised fun”.

Banana bread.

I want to make some this week. Does anyone have a good recipe?

I've tried one from Marie Claire's Kitchen and was disappointed with the result - too cakey and tasteless. I've been searching the net and banana bread recipes seem to vary widely in their ingredients.

Anyone have one that makes moist, really tasty and bready (not cakey) banana bread?

update

Update: I ended up buying a new dress for the function on Friday, a $60 strapless, black and orange dress that draped all the way down to my feet. Sam said it looked hot, so I was satisfied.

The night itself was…okay.

I arrived at the Luna Park venue, ready to be all sparkly and witty, but my editor and everyone I knew from the magazine were frantically busy with jobs, leaving me to walk into a sea of black ties and sparkly dresses alone. That made pre-drinks a little difficult - there is only so often you can go to the toilet, walk past the drinks stand to grab a glass of champagne, text someone or check to see what your table number is!

The night improved during the formalities. Will Anderson hosted the event and he was quite funny, though a little risqué in some of his gags. The table was a strange mix of people; instead of seating us all together, my editor had strategically spread us all across the room, so I ended up sitting next to the CEO of an Australian media agency, a woman who was the marketing head of a Telco and a balding, boring man (I forget what he did) who proceeded to tell me all the magazine issues he had been quoted as an “expert” in the digital space. Conversation was exhausting as we all had nothing in common, but I think I held up my part quite well. This may sound bad, but I always find it easier to hold a conversation with older men as a young female journalist. Not in the way some of you may be thinking (gross), but because everything I say seems to impress them, like they’re surprised a girl old enough to be their daughter knows something about art, politics or current affairs.

But the night confirmed my suspicions about these industry parties, which is that:
a) most people’s favourite topic of conversation is themselves
b) Conversations don’t tend to be very deep
c) There’s lots of showing off
d) Lovely people exist, but its hard to find them in that setting
e) In the end, its about the booze

It was a nice night, especially after dinner when I got to chat to work colleagues for a while. However, I left early (the awards finished at 11:30 and I left half an hour after that, whereas the after-party kicked on past one), as I totally did not fit in.

I can’t work out if it’s because I’m a Christian, an introvert, or a bit of both. Or whether it’s a good thing or not? How do other people deal with difficult work functions and fitting in?

Preaching Pyramid

David Cooks 'Preaching Pyramid' is one the most helpful resources I've ever come across for preparing to teach a Bible Passage. I ran a training session on it today for our National Training Event mission students.
However, last night when I tried to find it on-line I came up completely dry. This presented somewhat of a problem, as I can't find my copy of the book it came out of, and had no photocopies left in the folder in my filing cabinet marked 'preaching pyramids'. It was beginning to look like my training session was going to be pretty light on for content!
Thankfully it was Guthers to the rescue - emailing most of the info through to me late last night, and I whipped up a mis-aligned pyramid in Word in a couple of minutes.
I don't know why a resource this good isn't online and available for free?

Women's gingerbread Event.

Strange as it might sound, I'm at the women's gingerbread event at church tonight. I've never been to one of these before, but they seem to be pretty popular. Our NTE team are helping to run the event, and I'm training someone on the sound-desk for the evening. Anyway, thought I'd share a photo of our church with you - it does scrub up pretty well for these kinds of events!

nothing to wear

This Friday I’m going to a swanky awards night for the advertising industry – my editor thought it would be a good idea for me to “network” and make some contacts for my new role next year.

I feel daunted at the prospect of turning up by myself at a fancy industry ‘do' with glamorous people in manner of Great Gatsby and forced to socialise with people I have nothing in common with - would much rather spend the night in jeans with friends at the pub - but that is besides the point.

The point is that the dress-code is, and I quote, “red carpet formal” and I’m not kidding when I say I don’t have a single thing to wear.

So here are my options:

1. Adapt. I could somehow try to formalise one of my dresses – this is hard considering all my dresses are short and cocktail, though I do have this one black halterneck – its knee length but has potential to look dressy, given the right necklace maybe.

2. Borrow. I like this option, but I don’t know too many people my dress size (10 – in case anyone is reading and can help!) with formal clothes handy. My friend Roz has offered to lend me something, so I’m calling her tonight to canvas any suitable options.

3. Buy. I like this option the least. Sam and I have a DJs voucher, but I’m reluctant to spend it on a dress I’ll probably never wear again (besides, the cheapest dresses there were about $190, and they weren’t even that formal or nice).

I have conferred with other girls who I know will be there on Friday night, and the consensus is that “red carpet formal” means “slinky, long and black”.

Help! Angelina Jolie with bling…that just isn’t me.

So you think you can dance.

Soph and I just watched the finale (finally!). Totally stoked with the result!

We had a lot of fun watching it - It's great to be married to someone with whom you dance around the living room like kids during the ad breaks. Luckily no-one can see into our apartment!