Category: <span>Holidays</span>

turbo

The image doesn’t quite portray the feel of a less than serene week, but I came away relaxed and there are privacy issues about posting many of the more interesting and fun shots I took… with the volume up around the 3 gig mark.

Last week I volunteered myself for Turbo camp, which is the first CYC (Christian Youth Camps) for the Yarra Vallley ever. Having done several kids camps before (ESA) I fit right back into the mould of ‘how to do it’ although with perhaps a little more confidence that a few years forward brings. The model of how leading on this camp fit better for my introverted self, with more brain renewing moments and less of hitting ‘that wall’.

It was a marvellous week, not without certain issues or difficult campers, not to mention that there were 75 campers in total, but a week primarily of fun, hot weather, and a time of connecting with kids and give them a time that will stick in their minds for a long time to come.

It was an honor leading with friends, Mandy and Marco and new friends Marcel and Betsy, a former youth group kid and others I knew a little and/or were new to me.

God naturally took the oppotunity of irony, as so happens, to talk to me about rest and about taking time out. The year has started on a slower foot and for that I am grateful.

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reading_smGeoff and I have spent the last few days in Bendigo, staying at the lovely Langley Hall. After and between exploring where Geoff spent a good bit of his primary years and early teens, we had some space for catching up on the the volume of reading to be done for the next while.

I bought with me two books, Irresistable Revolution – Shane Claiborne and The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet – Colleen McCullough. So one non-fiction, one fiction.

They have turned out be horrendous mistakes.

Irresistible Revolution kept me awake for a few good hours on the first night while I tried to reconcile my life with some ideas and practicalities, I eventually gave up because I couldn’t get it to work and slept instead. Pure brilliance. If I could wish something disturbing on everyone I know, it would be that book and the guts to actually come through with something. I shall meanwhile continue to attempt to assess my own situation in regards to some fair truths that will persist in being shoved at me gently while I finish the text. The safest way of living here, methinks is to never finish it at all so it might be forefront in my mind.

The supposedly lighter Pride and Prejudice follow on – which I have never actually read (or rather finished) because the BBC so closely follows the story and I can’t be bothered wading through more of Mrs. Benet who is so freaking annoying, made it’s way merrily along and then started destroying some of the beautiful things about Elizabeth and Darcy – which I could manage with – with some pain mind you, but it birthed out Mary nicely to compensate. THEN at about half way, it went spaco-weird as Mary gets abducted (via two other abductions) into this weird sect and I suddenly remembered that for all McCullough’s charms and graces in seemingly following in the grain of something light, she doesn’t actually write strictly happy chick lit and although not exactly terrifying -I wasn’t in the mood for it to the last thing I read before heading off to sleep. I continued to read and when it flicked back to mauling Darcy and Lizzie I left it kindly there. I am enjoying the book rather a lot. Despite McCullough’s marvelous attempts at making new of Chick-lit, the topic itself and the appalling lilac (cringe even at the word) of the book cover will ensure it’s place forever in the genre, but I do LOVE the nasty shock she pulls out just as you’re getting comfortable.

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I’ve started this about three times, and now it is late. Merry Christmas!

Holidays Life

proteaThis evening I took a short road trip or rather a longish drive with some of my family to visit the twilight market at St Andrews – which is up toward Kangaroo Ground where I spent a good bit of my ‘in Australia’ childhood.

The market is very much along the hippie/sustainability lines and very communal. Food stalls, chai tents, fishermans pants, live music, drums etc.

I wandered around and came to the conclusion that many people must simply know each other through schools, perhaps the market (which is weekly but usually early Saturday morning), or just in living locally. Yet what was more interesting was that this ‘vibe’ (if I can call it that) itself induced community. A poor example was that I had a brief chat with a guy while waiting forever for food after he stood in so his daughter didn’t have to wait so long. But, so much chatting – and you could see that conversations were going further than the simple – hi, hello.

I’m interested now to passively investigate if community begets community. And if established community is plonked in a less formal setting (which is not really an idiosyncrasy in itself) if it evolves into something more… and if then, what does that mean for  the Kingdom of God or dare I say it, doing Church?

I bought some yellow proteas.

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A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes … and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent.
– Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
German pastor and philosopher (1906-1945) imprisoned and executed for his attempt to overthrow Adolf Hitler.

Sunday afternoon Geoff and I uncharacteristically sat down in front of the TV and caught a facinating documentary on a historical rescue of six Irish/American guys from a British prison in Freemantle (Western Australia).  Throughout the story kept reappearing this word ‘resurrection’. It was an awkwardly beautiful phrase, yet after ten years and many letters, and so much waiting these innocent men were freed and taken home – the word fit.

I love the themes of resurrection and redemption and I don’t think we should leave them alone at Christmas.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned”- Isaiah 9:2

Every Christmas I read the Hobbit. And although there is somewhat of a ‘resurrection’ of the dwarves treasure and history from Smaug, there is the more significant resurrection of Bilbo from his comfortable life.

Neither can be construed as perfect metaphors – I’m not sure they even are metaphors. But there is something to be said for waiting and hoping and allowing peculiar shaped freedom to show it’s face.

bilbo

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