What comes next:

My imagination has decided that the end of one thing definitely means the beginning of several others. Quite suddenly I am buzzing with project ideas. I want to spring clean. I want to clear out my walk-in-wardrobe and convert part of it into a linen shelf so that my little pantry cupboard can actually house food rather than towels and tablecloths. I want to set up a shop on ebay and sell the clothes I love but haven't worn in a while. I want to pack up bundles of my favourite books and leave them hidden in public places with a note telling some stranger to enjoy the stories. I want to finish all the half-read books on my bookshelf. I want to get back into art lessons with my little brother. I want to get the Pentax fixed and go on a film-shooting spree. I want to start new journals and new writing projects. I want to open a cafe that's open till late at night and people can bring their homework or their girlfriends or their grandpa or their guitars and sit, surrounded by books and freshly-baked muffins. I'd like to do all of the above -- tomorrow, if possible.

Most of this list -- leaving aside the glorious book cafe -- might actually happen someday, but none of those things are likely to happen tomorrow. Because life quickly establishes its own full-to-the-brim rhythm. Before a gap opens up, something else comes to fill the not-yet-empty place. I often bemoan this fact, the sense that there is never time to stop and breathe after one thing before the next race begins. Really though, I'm thankful for it. It's healthy and life-giving to have a sense of purpose, even a small purpose that's only a part of the jigsaw puzzle that is the greater, overarching purpose.

I floundered for a while wondering what would happen post-degree. What about continuing study? What about money? I think I gave myself extra grey hairs overthinking everything. And then of course, things happened in such a landslide that I was left looking sheepish over my own doubt. Within the space of two weeks, I got accepted into the Master's program I'd been hoping to study, I was offered a challenging but right-down-my-alley part time job, and I sold a story! I could almost see God with hands on hips (suddenly it seems irreverent to imagine God standing there hands on hips; does He even have hips?), saying, "Seriously, you assumed I'd forgotten about you?"

So that's what comes next for me. I've got two weeks of work -- teaching English and history privately to two teens and two pre-teens -- under my belt, and I'm one week into an MA in writing. I'm enrolled in some great classes and I have masses of amazing related reading to dive into. In other words I'm blessed, even though I'm a wimp and oh so good at freaking out.

What comes next for you?

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The lovely folk at PocketChange included the old blog in their Best of the Web roundup, which is pretty sweet of them! Be sure to check it out; I've been lurking the Best of the Web posts and found some lovely new blogs to explore and enjoy.

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Conversations:

Rebecca Simon -- thanks, sweet lady!

Caitlin - Crafty Crackpot -- thank you, Caitlin! And I totally agree: my family is definitely so cool. And please don't consider yourself slack in the letter-writing department. Your supposed slackness doesn't even appear on the graph when contrasted with my intense slackness!

Katie -- those little white paws are surprisingly good at shoulder massages. :D

Andrea -- I still wish you could've been there, too :). [And glad you like the slightly tweaked layout]

Domesticwarriorgoddess -- thank you, lovely Charis.

Cara -- I think unpacking is sometimes more overwhelming than packing! Good luck with it. I look forward to hearing more when you have a chance... and I need to update you with lots of things!

Rach -- thanks for the tag! <3

Amanda -- yes indeed you MUST have a little party.

Meaghan -- love you. xx

HarrietCoombe -- thank you, lovely. I love you. x

Finito:

Over at twitter, I may or may not have promised that, upon handing in the last assignment of my degree, I would breathe out a sigh of relief so hearty that gale force winds would happen somewhere. Now, today, Friday-the day-of-the-handing-in-of-final-assignments feels so long ago that I can't remember whether I sighed or not. Tell me if there was a cyclone near you and maybe that'll jog my memory. But just sitting down right now to write, here in this very moment, well... there was definitely some relieved lung work happening. I've finished my degree. I've finished my degree! And while I know there is nothing extraordinary in this, that many many people have done and will do this very thing, it's a nice feeling to finish something, especially a something that's taken three and a half years. There's always going to be emotion at the end of a good journey. After all, I'm a girl. Permit me this.

I'd like to wax lyrical about all that I've learnt during this time, what studying has taught me, how it's changed the way I approach my writing life, whether the debt I currently owe the Australian government is worth it or not, and other similar lines of thought. And maybe I will write that post soon. Instead, though, I'm feeling emotional and gratitudey* about the way that my family (and especially my mum) actually care about this small destination reached -- how they've never laughed at me for caring more about words than about a "normal" career -- how they've accomodated the self-centred aspects of student life that call for bouts of anti-social hermiting and a strong focus on due dates -- how they've read my work and encouraged me and waited for grades almost as eagerly as I have.

I'm very conscious that this kind of support is no small thing. Some families laugh at their creative offspring. Some judge and criticise and tease. Some just don't care all that much. And certainly some would never decide to randomly throw together a practically-spur-of-the-moment outdoor uni-finishing party, complete with homemade chicken satay kebabs, paper lanterns, and cheesecake. Most mums and sisters wouldn't plot a little guest list and menu without informing the student sister so as not to add anything else to her plate. Most brothers wouldn't fly themselves and their lovely lady friend up from New South Wales to surprise the sister for said spur-of-the-moment party. Most dads wouldn't stand barbecuing for hours for a bunch of his daughter's friends, many of whom he's never met.

So thank you, family. I love you.

PS. The flowers are from my grandparents.<3

*grateful would've made more sense. Creative writing degree, you say? Grasp on the English language, you say? Poohoo!

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Conversations:


Abbie -- you're the encouragement! Thank you.

Andrea -- do you feel like, by doing the photo challenge, you've also learnt more about your camera? It's a pretty cool way to be thrown in at the deep end.

Carla and Alastair -- yep, that was me! May not have a green thumb, but I occasionally have green fingernails :). PS. Thank you for your prayers! Sometimes it's hard being a human, isn't it?

Hannah -- goodness, yes. Let's be kids foreverrrr! Your day-to-day approach is so wise. Thank you for sharing that. xx

Lauren -- this is definitely related to our chat. Brain-twins -- even when we don't particularly want to be.

Rebecca Simon -- aw, hugs! Prayers right back at you!

Meaghan -- Dory's advice always rings true. xx

Joy -- absolutely! And His feet is the place where our burdens need to go.

Samantha R -- yes yes yes!

Laura Elizabeth -- I'm sad you've been in an anxious place, too, but loving what you've learnt while you're there. That's awesome -- and I loved that link :D. xx

Everyday goodness:

Mothers and how we feel about them might just be one of the hardest things to capture in words. It's certainly so for me. I mean, I knew my mother before I knew God. That's a pretty big deal.

She's been there always. She is there, always. Mum listens to the things that I am too scared, too worried, too goofy, or too ashamed to tell other people. She says 'yes' to people who need help. She is creative, fun, intense, and has a green thumb that none of her kids seem to have inherited. She is a strong individual who nevertheless supports her husband and builds her life with his. She has lived in like a million and a half places and somehow managed to make each one into a home.

Basically, the world didn't know just how much good it was in for when a squalling little baby arrived on the second of June, 19... something or other. Happy birthday, Mum.

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Conversations:

Carla and Alastair -- you know me. My desk isn't complete without a dead fish hanging round somewhere...

Katie -- it is SUPER cute.

Abbie -- you're right; she is lots of fun. Today Mum got back to some of her work at the computer to find the kitten had added four whole pages of text :D.

Caitlin -- you should get one! Kittens for all the world! :D Love you. xx

Andrea -- and here's another one! Wonders will never cease.

Cara -- aw, kitten love!! Two and a half weeks? They must be teeny! (and I owe you an epic email!)

Lauren -- someday, Abby, this technology will exist.

thelittlebluefishy -- yay! I'm glad you liked the pics :D. I don't know if I'm a glutton for punishment or not but I do love studying. I do not love it when it feels like it's my whole life, though :P.

Sarah -- aw, I can imagine Gracie would love a kitten. Do you think she'll ever get one? I hope your studies are going great. Are you nearing semester's end -- and all that busy essay-writing that comes with it?

Meaghan -- ;)

Amanda -- we think so too :D

A very long-winded way to say: I'm thankful.

In 2011 -- as far as I can tell -- I'll be living in the same place I spent 2010 in, and doing the same stuff I spent 2010 doing. But it feels like a new beginning all the same. For one thing, I'm sharing a home with my parents and little brother again. For another, both my sisters have just settled into new homes and are expecting new babies in the first half of the year. And there's this thing of me looking for a new, more local, church community. So there is still a lot of newness about this new year.

Of course, though, with the beginning of one thing comes the end of something else, and the end leaves me pondering the bleak truth that we don't always leave an impression behind us. Sometimes we're just... forgotten.

This, in turn, has made me think long and ponderous thoughts about the nature of friendship and, in fact, most kinds of social interaction. I confess that, sometimes, it all seems like a bizarre dance and I don't know the right moves. At other times, this idea of interacting -- especially within the church where, idealistically, I tend to imagine that relational barriers won't exist -- feels sort of like a reverse emperor's new clothes: we spend all our time piling on more and more ridiculous layers, and none of us is bold enough -- or cares enough, possibly -- to be naked (and of course I mean this figuratively) before each other. There are some who are willing to get to that soul nakedness -- by which I mean being really real, really loving, and really telling the truth -- but there is no one who sees enough or notices enough or cares enough to respect and appreciate that vulnerability. How many of us have shared a deep need or a sincere heart's cry only to have it evaporate, unnoticed, in the air?

We laugh as we relish the seemingly bizarre societal conventions that so complicate the romance of Darcy and Elizabeth, but we're surrounded by just as many ourselves. They take a different form, of course, but they exist all the same. Just as in the days of Bingleys and Bennets, beauty opens relational doors where plainness does not. Similarly, those with charm and charisma may find pathways into friendships where quieter people do not. And one social trick that often trips me up is the sense that involvement seems to equal relationship, especially where church life is concerned -- but of course it doesn't. We feel connected to someone because we go to school with them, or we both teach the same Sunday school class, or we helped out with that thing that time, or she goes to the same writer's group as I do. We feel connected because we are in proximity. But when circumstances change and the proximity lessens, the relationship is proven for what it is. A true friendship survives all that, but others... don't. And it can hurt to be reminded that we are not as valued, loved, connected, or even as remembered as we'd hoped.

And all of this, in turn (I feel like Fiddler on the Roof's Tevye, with his multitude of 'other hands'), makes me realise how very very blessed I am by the handful of really true, really dear friends I do know. Interestingly, only one of them lives in the same neighbourhood as me. Many live outside Queensland and even outside Australia. Most of them I have known for many years, and some of them I'll only see once or twice a year, if that. Some are related to me. With others, I have nothing external in common. But all of them are people who don't require me to pile on the layers in order to be their friend. In fact with these precious people I don't need to be anything. I don't need to be loud or quiet, funny or serious, pretty or plain, dressed up or dressed down, happy or sad, ultra religious or worldly wise. And because of their unconditional love and their lack of relational requirements, I can actually just simply be the flawed person that I am, loving them and growing along the path that God has for me, as content to sit alongside them watching a movie as engaged in discussions about the real challenges of living faithfully.

Such a level of grace and commitment and get-along-with-ability is a rare thing; I'm learning this all the time. So here's to those precious ones whose kindness and love are beautiful, cheering, comfortable reminders of what great relationships are really like. Love to you!

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Conversations:

Samantha R -- bravo, you! Relish your year of yes!

Rebecca Simon -- it was indeed. Are you home and settled again now?

Katie -- so true. Happy things mean life goes on.

Elisabeth -- really? You're one of my adventuring heroes whom I feel convinces says "yes" to everything! PS. I owe you an email. Coming soon.

Simplythis -- you little Brisbane local, you.

Nan -- thank you for dropping by. xx

Thankful

About this time just now, my North American friends are all heading to bed with contented tummies and several platefuls of leftover turkey in the fridge. Over the past couple of days, I've enjoyed seeing their Thanksgiving lists of thankfulness pop up around various internet haunts. And, although there are no pilgrim fathers, no Indians, and no candy corn here in Australia, there's always something to be thankful. So, I'm copying my friends.

Right now, I am thankful for (in no particular order):

my wee, fat nephew with two top teeth and two bottom teeth and a vocabulary that is tiny and yet still somehow includes "yay" and "book"; my utterly girly and beautiful niece who, at two-and-a-half, is already a thousand times cooler than her aunty Dee and yet still wants to borrow her necklackes; my two sisters and two brothers, who are excellent in a host of various ways and also make dorkiness cool; my parents, who make sure this buzzing circle of eleven individuals is actually a family; air-conditioning (it's maintaining my mental health right now, I'm sure of it); Christmas music; banana-and-choc-chip muffins; confusion, because it helps us to realise we can not have the answers and yet still survive; T.S. Eliot; the postman; bright nailpolish; flowers in a jar; 2010 diaries with no words in them yet; assignments completed; friends far away with whom I can just pick up where I left off, every time; evenings out; sister nights; friends near (especially ones only five minutes' drive away); the internet, because it helps me stay connected, even while confusing the whole connectedness thing; New Zealand; kind boys who restore my faith in males; public libraries; pictures that take my breath away; phone calls with my mother; pa and ma and nan; the Cosby Show; text messages; my new brother-in-law; bookdepository.co.uk (I'm their best customer); people dear to me getting married; answered prayers; people who take the time; what God has already done.

♥