We're always better when we're together.

Thirteen years ago today, a new little person joined our family. He didn't come to us in the standard way. True, he didn't have teeth (as is the usual) but he could say "mum" and was already crawling and beginning to toddle. I wrote about it recently:

"He came to us unexpectedly. After lots of doors had been closed in our faces, finally one was open. We held our breath and kept our hearts in check. Then, just seven days after we were told yes, he was there, in our house and in our arms. I remember sitting with him that first afternoon on the swing set under the silky oak tree. From way out behind the railway track and the low curving hills beyond, the afternoon sun sent sharp slanting beams of light across us. Cuddled in my lap, rocking with me on the swing, was this chubby, quiet, smiling eighteen-month-old stranger. Yesterday he had not been my brother. Now, suddenly, he was."

I wonder what went on in his little baby mind. I wonder how it felt to be whisked out of his foster family -- the only family he had really known -- and into a new one. In this new family, Mum had a different face and there was a regular ongoing circus of three big sisters and one big brother, all looming close and ready to cuddle, to tickle, to laugh, to play. He loved Dad's beard right away, and was all smiles and appreciation. But he resented the mummish things Mum had to do for him, and it took a while for his truest self to come out, the self that loved to wrestle and growl and was all-boy. We didn't know how much of him had been held back, waiting -- perhaps tentatively, perhaps in shock -- until he truly settled in to this mad new world and his personality could relax and ripen.

It's crazy now to think of it, that in one day someone could join our family and our history would be different because of it. But every year on the ninth of July* we take time out to remember it (tonight, with Tain's choice of Indian) and make cheesy toasts in honour of Tain's adoptaversary. We are so glad he's here.

*So I guess July-in-New-South-Wales has been good for at least one thing, after all.

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Conversations:

Katie -- it's nice to know I'm not the only one who finds July a bit of a nothing month. And it seems such a great month to be an American!


Elisabeth -- turning to letter-writing is a brilliant way to work yourself out of a corner when writing an article. I might have to try it myself when I get stuck!


Caitlin - craftycrackpot -- hopefully soon there'll be a real letter headed your way, too. I've embarked on my huge pile to reply-to, so I've made a start!


Hannah -- you're delightful. xx


Carla and Alastair -- Carla, I love your blog comments! And you should keep your eyes peeled, because I just might write one of my blog letters to you. You've inspired me!

1/100 (a letter to July)

Oh July,

Dear seventh-month-of-the-year, I have to apologise. Quite honestly, I haven't always thought of you with kindness. Actually it's worse than that. Mostly I have never thought of you at all. And if it's a sad thing to be thought of with distaste, it's a million times sadder simply not to be considered in any way. And this is what I have done to you, July.

It's not that you are so very worthless. It's just that... the other months have always had so much going for them. Sure, December is either stifling or sticky, but it has Christmas. March brings Autumn with it. April gets by because it sounds pretty and, well, September actually is pretty, you know. And while we all know that (with a consistency that follows through year after year) August has the most disgusting calendar pictures ever, it also has my birthday, and I quite like birthdays. So there's a lot of competition right there, July. In the lineup of good months of the year, you barely even rate a mention.

You're just there, July, in the middle of Winter -- neither the relieved end of something, nor the exciting beginning of a new season. If I look back and consider your presence in my childhood, mostly I remember chapped, dry winter hands and that terrifying moment after stepping out from the bath into the breath-stealing air.

July, you have kind of been a nothing month to me, and for that I am sorry. But I'm also happy to say that my perception of you is changing. I don't want to be discriminatory or anything, but I like Queensland July better than New South Wales July -- and that's saying something, because Queensland and I have had something of a rocky relationship. But you, July-in-Queensland, you are quite lovely. You remind me of Autumn in New South Wales, which is special because I have always loved Autumn.

You're a month of dramatic moods, July. You are beautiful, brilliant, and crisp. Your days are bright, bright blue and clear skies. Your nights are cold and cosy, sharp and bitter. There are whole weeks of heavy grey rain that turns the ground to chilly swamp and sends us all a little bit crazy. But that also gives us the chance to wear ugg boots, cover our laps with quilts (and kittens), and sip chamomile tea. You have dolphins, July. Dolphins. I saw them carving and leaping through the water last week while I was sitting with a coffee in one hand and a textbook in the other. It was quite amazing.

I guess what I'm trying to say, July, is that I'm warming to you -- even though my feet are cold.

(Newly-developing) love,
Danielle

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(This is the beginning of my new creative blogging project, picking up where the last project finished off. 52 pictures gets replaced by one hundred letters -- to anyone (or anything). I'm excited!)

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Conversations:


Andrea -- once a week is a lot easier to keep momentum than once a day!


Lauren -- thank you :D

Project 52: fifty-two

Fin.

(You can see all the posts in the project by following this tag.
And now I'm cooking up a plan for my next Project 52-esque endeavour, so stay tuned.)

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Conversations:

The First Rose -- wow! Congratulations on this awesome milestone! You must be relishing in the feeling of being done... even though it looks like you haven't got too much time left in your schedule to sit breathing long sighs of relief. Your Summer looks to be amazing. Enjoy!

Andrea -- haha, among "the best in the web" according to one blog, that is. :)

Katie -- I have pondered this very dilemma myself. There would be so many more hours in which to Do Things if sleep wasn't so darn essential!

Abbie -- you're absolutely right. I guess if life is a journey, then it makes sense that we feel like we're always on the move?

Thelittlebluefishy -- if your own cafe dream ever comes true, please let us know so we can all haunt your delightful haven of bookishness and coffee! Wouldn't it be the best?

Meaghan -- and you are delightful.

Rebecca Simon -- don't tempt me!! Okay, and by "don't tempt me" I probably mean "don't make me think more about opening this cafe because at this point the only way I could do so would be to rob a bank in order to finance such a project and I'm sure that wouldn't end very well..." So yes, a happy dream! But who knows what's in the future? (I'll let you know if I get the little ebay store happening, though; I'm thinking end-of-semester project?) Oh, and contentment is always an amazing goal to be working towards. God bless you in that!

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?

* * * * *

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

Project 52: fifty-one

It's an internet cliche, but I can't help it: here, have a picture of a kitten.

PS. Next week is the last of the Project 52 pictures! I'm already cooking up my next weekly (or thereabouts) project. This time it'll be more to do with words than photos, but you know I can't blog without pictures, so there'll still be plenty of those around. Oh, and speaking of pictures, some happy snaps from the lovely end-of-uni party my family threw are over at my tumblr.

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Conversations:

Carla & Alastair -- "thefeeling'smutual,darling,thefeeling'smutual."

Lauren -- it's easy when I'm writing about a cool thing :).

Laura Elizabeth -- We missed your lovely presence but there will be other times! <3 

Abbie -- thank you so much, lovely friend!

Andrea -- yes, it really was :D

Meaghan -- the feeling sunk in and then fled! But I'm looking forward to tidying my papers and packing some of my stuff away.

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

Inhale, exhale.

I used to think I was made for intense seasons. For the five years my family ran a quilt store and cafe, I revelled in a packed schedule. Even when it freaked me out, I kind of relished the challenge of adding 'just one more thing' when it seemed there wasn't room for even half of one more thing. That was me, back then. So the question I'm asking now is: where on earth did that person go?

The last month has been a steady trickle of just-one-more things. Uni things. Finance things. Health things. Brain things. Heart things. Daily life things. Future things. Wondering things. And I've turned into one big Anxious Thing. I should probably mention here that before I was the girl who revelled in the packed schedule, I was the girl who lived in the terror zone. I guess you could call it my special gift -- an unwanted gift, but one in which I particularly excelled. My special skill peaked in my teen years, during which time I really hit the fear zone. It was a time I don't look back on with fondness -- it was pretty crippling, actually -- but it taught me some good things, mostly about how it's not who I am, but who I am in Christ that matters. And that sounds like a pat phrase, but it's really not.

I thought all that stuff was in my backstory, though. Then KABOOM, it suddenly catapulted itself into my present. Whew. Just as ugly and paralysing as it was back when I was seventeen only, like, now. Yuck. Yuck and yuck. And it seems petty and weak because there are people with infinitely huger things going on in their worlds, as well as some very good things going on in my own world (and I promise to tell you about those things), but of course none of that makes sense to a brain when it's on the fritz. Logic puts on its cloak of invisibility.

In the middle of it all, though, and just like back in my teens, this season has sent me running back to the shelter that is true. The truth doesn't take away pain, but it reminds me that it's bearable, that it's for some good reason, and that there is Someone who has promised to keep me within His love. Man, I can't express enough how good that is.


Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy. Psalm 103:2-4