Throw me a lifeline

I'm awakened at 6:10 this morning by an overactive mind. I cannot go back to sleep. I lie in bed for 20 minutes before proceeding to the kitchen for some toast with margarine and coffee. The coffee tastes like water but i gulp it down anyway. I'm going to need it.

I put on my earphones and leave for work. I walk for twenty minutes, checking my watch every two minutes to figure out how late i'm going to be. I reach the house five minutes past the time i was supposed to be there. Not bad at all.

I spend eight hours with two little kids, one with an upset tummy and another who doesn't enjoy quiet time. The cat throws up a couple of times before coming to lie on my lap to listen to me make up stories about a princess stuck in a tower with only peanut butter sandwiches and juice and a prince who comes to her rescue, bringing along pizza, rice and vegetables. At a quarter to four, the kids' mum gets home. I put on my earphones and leave for home. Gratefully.

The 20 minutes i take to walk back seem like eternity. But i finally reach my destination.

I put the kettle on and proceed to take a shower- a long, hot one. I stand under the water, hoping it'll take away some of the tension from my upper back. Meanwhile, the bathroom starts to resemble a sauna. I get out hastily.
I get changed into my shorts and large t-shirt, put my hair up and make a cup of coffee. I sit down on the kitchen stool, with my hands wrapped around my mug and take my first sip. Oh bliss. I reach for the cookie jar and eat a biscuit. Or three.

I look out the window and see how the leaves on the plant sway gently in the wind. I watch as darkness descends upon us.
I don't move. There's something spiritual about the whole moment. I listen...

And then i take out my book and start to write.

Purple

Somebody told me that i look like i'm glowing

Rachael and Genevieve


It's been a difficult week but i have a group of friends who are journeying with me and for that, i'm grateful.
Rachael is one of the most beautiful people i've met. I consider her my sister in Sydney. She knows when i'm feeling upset and always reminds me of the many gifts and talents God has bestowed upon me. She gives me advice and is always, always there for me.

But the thing i love most about Rachael is her total trust in God. I mean, this girl is the epitome of faithfulness. And everyone around her can tell how blessed she is because of her unwavering obedience and trust in God.

How blessed I am to have her as my friend!

Even the best fall down sometime

I can't save the world.
I don't need to.
I'm entitled to have sad days.
I don't need to be everyone's cheer-upper.

I can spend my entire day lolling about in my bathrobe if i feel like it.
I can whinge about the terribly hot Tuesday.
I can whinge about the rain that falls the day after.
I can laugh for no reason.
I can dream about you.
I can dream about our kids.
I can pretend that i don't care.
I can procrastinate.
I can not feel guilty about procrastinating.

I can just be Gen.

Oh Lord, please send someone to care

Weddings and children have been making me weepy of late. Strangely enough, i feel like i've finally reached a point where i'm truly happy with the way things have been progressing in my life and have no great desire to be part of a couple or to have a baby.
Well, ok. Maybe that's not the whole truth.
If i happen to meet him and know with all my heart that he's it, i can see myself getting married. Maybe even in the next two years.
But i guess what i mean is this- i'm happy and content with the woman i've become. I'm happy being Genevieve, idiosyncracies and all. And since they say you can't love someone else till you've learned to love yourself, i think i'm now ready to love.

I work part-time as a nanny and look after two boys- Abel, 4, and Lars, 21 months. Two blonde, curly haired kids who are just so precious that i want to hold them close to me and never let go. This afternoon, as Lars was taking his nap, Abel sat on my lap and we watched "Blue's Clues" together. Portly, the cat, had his head on my calf. For a moment, i wished this was my life. I wished i lived in that house. I wished that was my kid who was on my lap. I wished Portly was my cat (and i'm not even a big fan of cats).

Just as suddenly as the moment had come, it went.
And all that was left was a yearning heart.

Time for just another moment and i-

I'm still not used to the way the sky darkens at half past five every evening. But i am getting used to the bright skies at six in the morning. It comforts me, this early morning light. It makes me less afraid.

The days have been passing too quickly and i find myself constantly asking, "Where has the time gone?" One day i find myself at the beach, presumedly to do some readings for my research but ending up laying on the sand, talking to my friend and watching the beautiful people who have settled themselves down on the sand all aorund me. With renewed optimism, i resolve to tone up my body which has become soft from too many tim tams. My friend looks at me and tells me i'm beautiful and i can't help but smile for i've heard this so many times since i arrived in this country that i've found it alot easier to smile and say "Thank-You".

Another day finds me at Ange and Thomas' house, which has become our gathering place. We sit around drinking tea and eating tim tams and talking and not judging. Thomas cooks us pancakes and we drench them with maple syrup. We go sit in the hot tub and resume our conversation. Soon it is dark and i find myself making the long, lonely journey back home on the bus that takes ages to come.

Yet another day finds me in the library in the university, a tower of books before me, papers to my side and a mind that wanders. I dream about having coffee at the Badd Manors cafe at Glebe but settle for a sip of water from my pink water bottle instead.

And so time flies-
Autumn in April. Feet in sand. A $2.80 cup of coffee. A song on the radio which reminds you of last November.
The same song which reminds you of all that lies ahead.

From death into life

As i sit here mourning the death of our pope, the necessity to view life as a gift is especially evident to me. The pope entered into glory knowing that he had led a good, fulfilling life. How many of us can say, as we lay on our deathbeds, that we've lived life to the fullest? How many of us can say, with conviction, that we've fulfilled our purpose (and we all have a purpose), helped those were suffering, been a friend to someone who needed one?
You can sail through life without really living it. Or you can live life as if it was the most precious gift you've received.

Choose colours. Choose life.