The Changing Light

The light is changing, the harshness of the summer sun is softening into a subdued glow. The shadows of the trees are growing and they are now extending over the lawn, creating pockets of dappled sunlight in the garden. In the afternoons, the southerly breeze carriers a hint of the coolness that was whipped up fresh from the Southern Ocean. It provides a welcome relief to the still hot day and signals summer is ending and autumn is closing in. 

This move from summer to autumn in Australia is deceiving. It’s not sudden. A handful of cooler days will fool you because they will be followed by a blast of heat again. This temperature dance can ensue for over a month. It’s only the changing light that signals the heat is dipping into a six month slumber. And sometimes in the heat the light is all that gives hope that summer isn’t endless. It is time to buy winter pyjamas for the kids Easter basket, to pull out the cardigans and jumpers and slide into slippers for the early mornings. 

I’m ready for this change. Autumn is my favourite season. Of course, by the end of winter I look forward to the arrival of summer. The anticipation of a classic hot Christmas followed by a baking January of swimming, ice cream and meandering late evenings. However when February rolls around and the thermometer climbs even higher, all of us are done. The joy of summer with its adventure and hectic social schedule becomes muddied with the all over body sweat and an inability to get comfortable in the evenings without the running of the air conditioner. There is hope in this light.

Isn’t it lovely how we enter, bask and move on through each season. When the next season comes up, we are ready. The roughly 3 months of each season seems just the right amount of time. How amazing is this world that was crafted for us. The seasons, each with their own gifts and lasting long enough to enjoy, but not overstaying their welcome. And they weave in their pattern to form the cycle of the year. The rhythms of this world. There are no rhythms in randomness. No order in chaos. Seasons are designed, planned and with purpose. They point to the Creator and should cause us to pause in awe at his works.

It’s dark when I wake up now. I roll over and pull up the blanket. Another five minutes. The slippers are at the end of the bed and I’m up when the morning call of the Kookaburra comes through. The house is quiet as everyone else seems to have received the memo about staying in and I’m making coffee with the harsh light of the kitchen hurting my eyes. But it’s joyful because this is what I’ve been waiting all summer for.  

The First Post

The first post is almost paralysing. Trying to get it as close to perfect as you can. It has already held me back at least four months. Or life has, I could strongly debate both sides. It’s not my first, first post either. And all those old ones were quite rubbish, I tried too hard and that came across. This time I’m going more casual, and maybe this blog might stick around. I hope so. 

What does one even say in the first post? An introduction perhaps, but that seems redundant because my total audience so far is zero. The first post really is for many years later, for when you have built a following and those that really connect with you decide to go back and see how it began. Hello, future readers, hopefully you are smiling at my clunky writing now because future me has vastly improved. Perhaps you are shocked at the lack of direction this takes because I am so on point in the future. Maybe you are googling on point because that phrase has been around a while and I think will vanish soon enough. 

That’s what I need to talk about. Blogging. Old school. I’ve tried the social media thing and it is exhausting. How can you make any sort of noise in a whole assembly of shouting, angry opinions. Posting on social media also means you need to open social media and I am fighting to reduce that. It saps your energy in an instant yet it’s addictive so you keep on scrolling. I scroll to search for the hidden treasure buried among the angst and sarcastic memes. Those rich nuggets that cause me to pause, to screenshot to show my husband, and to ruminate on throughout the day. 

It’s time for my own online place. A blog, where I can’t be censored and where I’m not feeling like I have to jump up and down for attention. I’m the person sitting in the corner of a party where people can come chat with me; not the one in the middle performing to an audience. Crafting words and creating stories is one of my favourite things to do. 

So, hello. I know you are here for the words and that is what I will give you. Thoughtful, constructed posts about the Christian life. Because my life has changed to the point that it has flipped, all by the grace of God. I prayed a lot over the last couple of years about my writing, about all the lost words and what I was supposed to do with them. This blog was the idea that popped into my head and now is the time for me to push publish. In prayer I told God I would do the words, but I would hand over the rest to him. I would be faithful and know He will guide the way and that these words would find those who need them. Welcome, I pray these words maybe be fruitful for you.