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You are here: Home / Faith / Finding my way | My testimony from The FaithFeed (June 2017)

Finding my way | My testimony from The FaithFeed (June 2017)

13 October, 2017 By Joy Adan Leave a Comment

The Faithfeed Parramatta | Institute for Mission | Testimony by Joy Adan, June 2017

Back in June, I was invited on The FaithFeed to share how my faith has evolved and the role that it plays in my life. In the lead-up to their October event, they’ve published the full video of my talk. Appearing on The FaithFeed was no easy decision; getting up in front of any crowd is always daunting, but it’s absolutely terrifying knowing something incredibly personal will be recorded and shared in full, online!

But I took this opportunity to share these snapshots from my journey because I think they illustrate that faith is not some stagnant thing and that once you have a bit, life will suddenly be great.  I wanted to be clear that faith in God and his love for all of us is not some sort of “get out jail free” ticket or a detour to a struggle-free life.

Anyway, before I ruin it, here’s the video. The text version is below the video, in case you’d prefer to (skim) read.

Side note: it makes me cringe to watch this because I can tell how nervous I am in the first few minutes (I make a few mistakes, despite hours of writing, re-writing and then rehearsing), but ah well, such is life. Hope you find some value from it.

Find out more about The FaithFeed events, and watch more testimonies or some short videos :

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Planting the seed

One of my earliest memories of faith being shared is in my childhood home. If I close my eyes I can picture it clearly; the 7 members of my family sitting in my parent’s bedroom; my Dad with his Rosary beads in one hand and a prayer book in the other. He instilled in us a habit of praying every night; skipping it was out of the question. And no matter how good I thought I was at faking illness, Sunday Mass was an absolute must.

This early introduction to faith was something I loved and hated. On one hand: the stories that I grew up listening to were interesting and uplifting, and religious holidays were always exciting – I mean, what kid doesn’t love celebrating Christmas? My faith gave me a framework to start thinking about concepts like forgiveness, compassion and love.

But on the flipside: Growing up, my understanding of God was that he was mostly about authority and discipline. He was all-seeing and all-knowing and had strict rules about how I should live my life. He was watching my every move and ready to judge and punish me if I stepped out of line. My job was to respect and obey.

I remember wanting to understand better, and asking – as every kid does – why? Why did we have certain rules? Why were some things ok, and not others? But it was hard to get answers, and I got “shushed” when I asked questions, so I just learnt to do what I was told.

It’s easy to write off people who’ve grown up in a religious family and assume we’re faith people now because our parents raised us to be. If my perception of God had stayed the same as the one I’d grown up with, it would have made sense to walk away from my faith and religion. But I’ve experienced many moments in my life where that perception was challenged, and in those moments I’ve been able to discover more and eventually claim my faith as my own.

So tonight I’ll share a couple of those moments from my journey, to help explain why now, as a 32 year old; an educated professional; as a woman, a wife and a mother; the faith I was introduced to, but struggled to understand as a child, is not only relevant now, but critical to how I live my life.

The first milestone was in high school.

What’s love got to do (got to do) with it?

When I was 14, my parents went through a really tough time in their marriage – there were many nights I’d lay awake listening to them fight, wondering if they’d make it through this argument or if they’d finally call it quits. It was the first time I became conscious of the fragility of marriage. I realised they were human. They had faults. They were able to disappoint and hurt each other. That solid, secure relationship that held my family together had cracks. And it made me question a lot of things.

If my parents’ relationship could fall apart, what else could? If they could stop loving each other, doesn’t that mean they can stop loving me? If God – who my parents introduced me to – was so loving and full of forgiveness, why were my parents so angry at each other? Why couldn’t they forgive each other? If God was so good and so amazing, then why are they hurting? Why am I hurting?

I was asking these questions at around the same time my friends and I were also questioning and testing the moral codes our parents had set for us. Like most teenage girls we’d talk, laugh and argue over everything – from periods, boobs (or lack of), and which was the most legendary of boy bands (Boyz II Men, in case you didn’t know), to more illicit things like whether and when alcohol, smoking or sex was ok. I spent a lot of those teenage years confused about what was right and wrong. I didn’t know who to trust and where I belonged. I had a lot of unanswered questions.

I was lost, angry and lonely. Maybe most 14-year-olds can feel a bit this way.

I don’t know if my parents could sense I was on the edge of rebellion because one weekend they sent me to a youth camp. It was run by an organisation made up of Catholic families but all the speakers were young, like me.

The first talk was on Friday night. I can’t remember who the speaker was but they weren’t much older than me. And with a lot of conviction for a teenager, he said: “God loves you”. I scoffed.

Say what? My family is falling apart and my friends are all over the place, and you’re telling me God loves me?

“Yes.” The speaker was adamant. “God loves you,” he said. “The same love that created the universe, creates life, and has conquered death, loves you. So when you feel like everything is going to shit, stop and remember: God loves you. He has something amazing planned for you. The best is yet to come.”

For me – an emotional, angry, broken and very confused teenage girl – this message of love touched a very raw nerve. I lay in my cabin that night turning the words over and over in my mind.

Who is this loving God they speak of? The God I grew up with was rule-setting, punishment-doling, prayer-demanding, judgemental, and vengeful. Who is this God who loves me so much? Why haven’t I met him before?

Being the stubborn and self-centred teenage girl I was, I decided that if it was true; if this all-powerful and all-loving God really did exist; if he was so desperate for me to feel his very real, very tangible love; then he better damn well prove it.

So the next day, during prayer time, I opened my journal and started to write:

Hey Jesus, how’s it going? So I heard, that apparently you love me. Doesn’t feel like that right now because my life is turning to shit. It’d be great if, somehow, you made it really clear. I could do with a bit of that love everyone here is raving about.

That was the first of many letters to Jesus. The journals in the years that followed are filled with these angry, hot-headed conversations with him.

Two things came out of this event:

  1. My sense of God started to change from the big authority figure to something .. even someONE, personal – Someone who I could speak to, question, demand answers from, be angry at, and – eventually – listen to, trust and love. My understanding of Jesus changed too. He wasn’t just a historical figure or a character in the stories I’d heard growing up; he was a real person, able to make my life different. The whole thing about Jesus being present in others started speaking to me when I saw people letting him change them. And that idea of him being present in the Church started to make sense. When I grew older I left that youth group and my circles of friends changed, but Jesus has remained a constant, reliable person in my life.
  2. That camp also introduced me to a community of people who provided a sense of belonging at a time I needed it most; an environment where I could make mistakes and test, question and express this new found relationship with God, without the risk of being abandoned or shushed.

And I did want to explore, test and question.

Sometimes, doubt can be a good thing

I’ve always been a bit of a geek. I enjoy learning and I tend to intellectualise things. I’m the type of person who can read a manual cover to cover. I like to know how things work. I like understanding context and the history behind things. It’s one of the reasons why I’m a writer; I write to understand things, events, people and myself better.

So after that camp, I started attending more Catholic youth events, and I asked a lot of questions. I was the really annoying person in every discussion group, because I’d pick apart talks – not because I didn’t like the speaker, but because I wanted context. I was thirsty for facts.

Eventually, I started getting approached to deliver talks at these youth events (maybe they thought I’d stop being so critical if the tables were turned). Whatever the reason, I used these opportunities to again ask questions. It wasn’t enough for me to just receive a talk outline, assume it was right and read it like a script. I prepared for these talks like I would if I were writing an essay or article – start with an idea, then lay out the proof points.

In my search for proof, I’d have long, candid conversations with the Priest at the church where I had a part-time job. He directed me to documents and sources I’d never known about. It was refreshing to have an authority figure from the Church welcome and encourage my questions and curiosity. This phase of discovering, intellectualising and understanding faith was a critical part of this geek’s faith being able to evolve.

If my faith journey was described as a love story, that first camp and adolescent years were the “crush” phase. Everything was exciting; the youth events I’d go to were fueled by adrenaline and emotional highs. I was on stage a lot, even travelled a lot, shared music, stories and late nights with lots of exciting friends, and I lost my voice so many times.

But as I grew older those highs weren’t enough to sustain me.

My faith moved into the “steady relationship” phase. In this phase of a real relationship, the extravagant dates (or those adrenaline-packed youth events) become the exception instead of the norm. Just like in relationships, you spend a lot of time just hanging out and getting to know a deeper side of each other – a side that you either reject and walk away from, or learn to accept. It’s the time when factors outside the relationship – family, friends, careers – start to test just how strong your commitment is.

As my knowledge of God deepened, my commitment was tested, and vice versa. When I entered uni and the workforce it was hard adjusting to an environment that was either apathetic or actively hostile towards faith in a God one couldn’t see or fully understand. But my faith has also been tested by people and situations where the God and faith agenda were on common ground.

Which leads me to the next milestone I want to share with you: my first year of marriage.

When love uncovers old wounds

Side note: Yes, I got the ‘ok’ from hubby dearest to share this part of our story with you. ❤️

I married one of my best friends. We’d known each other for 7 years; we’d travelled together and did a lot of volunteer work together before we even started dating. We dated for about 3 and half years before we got married. But even though we’d known each other for a decade, there were so many things I learned about my husband in that first year of marriage. Some of those discoveries were awesome, some were hilarious, some were really irritating, and some were heartbreaking.

So, like all newlyweds, we’d fight. Sound familiar?

And I discovered in those early months that when my husband’s angry, he doesn’t fight, he withdraws. Instead of engaging in the argument, as I was used to, he’d shut it down. In a family of 5 girls, full-blown verbal arguments were the norm in my household. That, and I was captain of the debating team for 6 years, so arguing is basically in my blood. To find myself living with a man who countered my words with silence was infuriating. It was also very isolating.

So those early months of marriage suddenly took me back to my adolescent years when my parents would fight. And I found myself terrified that I’d made an enormous mistake; that my marriage was doomed from the beginning, and the man that I’d chosen, the man who was meant to know me and love me, didn’t actually know me or love me at all.

Weeks after we’d gotten married, I realised that my husband wasn’t ready to have kids just yet. Before the wedding, we’d talked about starting a family hundreds of times. I felt ready. But something had changed and my husband wanted to wait. Which would have been easier to accept, except every time we’d see people who knew we’d just gotten married, we’d field the question: “So when are you guys gonna have kids?” After one particularly emotional argument about this topic, I went to a Baptism and someone I barely knew asked me, “So, are you two trying for a baby yet?” It was like a stab in the gut.

Even though I understood why he wanted to wait, I still felt betrayed. I felt like I’d been lied to. I felt cheated. And I felt alone. And because his response to the conflict was to shut down the conversation, my loneliness was amplified.

There was one night after yet another argument, I found myself sitting in the corner of our bedroom sobbing. Eddoes was asleep, but I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like a failure. I felt like my marriage was a failure. I was angry that no one had warned me it would be this hard. I was angry because marriage is meant to be amazing but our experience was far from that. I kept thinking over and over about how betrayed I was, and I wondered why – when marriage is meant to bring two people together – I’d never felt so alone in my life.

And as I sat, huddled in the corner of our bedroom, sobbing like a child and hating my husband for his ability to sleep through anything, the image of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane appeared in my head.

The night before Jesus died on the cross, he wanted his friends to stay up and keep him company, but they fell asleep. Later that day, they denied knowing him and he felt the sting of their betrayal.

Here was my “faith 101” realisation that I couldn’t be taught in a book:

God made himself known to us through Jesus for a whole bunch of reasons, but for sure one of them was to let us know he knew the pain of OUR heartbreak. He knew what it meant to long for intimacy or to want to be understood, and to be disappointed even by the people he loved. 

And in that moment, I felt him with me. He had been through what I was going through.

If there was anyone who could pull me through my heartache, it was him. If he could conquer death surely he could help me conquer this. Just as I had first discovered the human side of God at a youth camp when I was 14, there I was, 12 years later, rediscovering him in my marriage.

As I sat in the corner of our bedroom that night, I could picture Jesus in the room with me. He was crouching beside me, with a hand on my shoulder, saying “Let me help you.”

Sometimes, we need to be broken before we’re made whole

That night I realised I’d created a completely unrealistic expectation of marriage in my head. I also realised that because I’d grown so comfortable relying on my husband – my best friend – to support, understand and love me, I’d forgotten about his humanity. It’s not my husband’s job to complete me or to heal the insecurities that were sowed when I was 14. My husband’s human. He’s incomplete too; he’s got his own insecurities. And, this wasn’t only about me. He needed to feel Jesus in solidarity with him as much as I did. I’d wrongly expected Eddoes to be infallible, but really we were just learning each other and just finding our way.

My pain was valid, but my anger about it was misplaced.

It’s not fair to expect so much from one person, but I’ve done it before to other people and others areas in my life; I’ve done it with friends, family, my career, and even my health. I unconsciously expect these things to provide me with a sense of security, control or self-worth. But none of these are permanent. Plans shift, we change our minds, friends come and go, children grow up to live lives of their own, careers change, and we or the people we love get sick. These things are all transient.

But I began to know that one thing in my life is consistent: God. If I depend on him, I’m depending on something that will last.

That moment also reinforced the idea that having faith doesn’t magically make my life free from disappointment, heartbreak or hard work. I hate hearing testimonies where the speaker shares their “aha” moment and then pretends like life’s all good from that moment onwards.

That certainly hasn’t been my experience.

Life is hard. Marriage is hard. Being a mum, daughter, sister and friend is hard. Working and succeeding in any profession is hard. I constantly feel like I’m failing in at least one (if not all) of these.

Believing in and knowing God doesn’t give me special access to a struggle-free detour. What my faith does, is give me a reason to hope and believe that when I do struggle – when I feel lost, afraid, or that my life is going to shit – AND when things are joyful and strong – God is there, truly with me in it all.

When I was sobbing in the corner of my bedroom, I couldn’t see past my heartache and doubt. I couldn’t imagine our marriage not struggling. I certainly couldn’t imagine me being here, 7 years and 2 kids later, sharing that pain with anyone, let alone a studio audience.

But this unfolding and evolving faith allowed me to work past that hurt, and together Eddoes and I worked through our differences. I went to counselling… and then we went together. We continue to seek guidance from other couples and have attended seminars that remind us that marriage – like all long-term pursuits – requires hard work and commitment. We’ve learned how to communicate better, and how to stay connected and intimate even when jobs and a young, growing family keep us both busy.

Faith moves us forward

As we face new challenges (and there will be new challenges), one thing keeps us united and hopeful: a shared belief that God is with us, that our love for each other comes from him, that his plans for us are good and that the best is yet to come.

My parents introduced me to God when I was a child – it’s possibly the greatest gift they’ve ever given me. They planted the seed, and over time, my faith grew as knowledge and understanding of God deepened. My faith has matured, and is still maturing – I still have many questions, and I still seek answers every day.

What I’ve shared today are just two of many moments from my life where God has made the answers known and given me a reason to hope. Because I can look back and see him triumph time and time again – even in my darkest moments – I can rest assured that God is a person who’s got my back and will for the rest of my life.

So, when faced with a choice of rejecting faith or embracing it, I choose to embrace it. I want a life where I ask the hard questions, seek and receive guidance, make mistakes, learn and relearn: that’s a life of hope.

I choose to believe – as I suspect most of us want to – that I am loved, and the best is yet to come.


Photo by Kane Reinholdtsen on Unsplash

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Hi

Joy Adan

I'm Joy. I'm a 30-something, storytelling, coffee-drinking, book-devouring, ocean-obsessed freelance writer, brush lettering enthusiast, speaker and content producer. You'll find some of my stories and art here, along with my advice about attempt at balancing the creative career + family life hustle.

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Finding Joy | Joy Adan
Ran the first in-person lettering workshop of 2022 Ran the first in-person lettering workshop of 2022 today! So so so blessed to introduce a group of incredible women (and their beautiful kids!) to @findingjoyau and the joy that comes with exercising our creativity. 💕

Oh yes... and I'm moving/switching up my Insta. You'll find me sharing more of my art/lettering/how-tos and all things making and creating over here 👉👉👉 @findingjoyau so give this lady a bit of love (and a follow). 

xoxoxo
Needing rest and recovery is a massive shame trigg Needing rest and recovery is a massive shame trigger for many people, myself included.

I've found this to be especially true within migrant families and communities I've worked with - rest was not an option for lots of people because it was literally a matter of work now to survive, otherwise you die.  

I know that the absence of that "threat to survival" puts me in a very privileged position. I also know that even though the pressure to survive at any cost might be gone, the expectation to overwork and overcommit still weighs heavily and still demands sacrifice - from women especially. Thankfully, I (and many in my generation) have the added privilege of better education - we now know that failure to rest when our bodies and minds need to rest leads to poorer long-term health outcomes.

So a few months ago I turned down opportunities to do amazing work with amazing companies. Instead, I decided to hit "pause" and put my health and my family first. The past 2-3 years have been a bit of a fiasco. I really had to make a call about where to spend my time and energy, and I knew that if I wanted to keep giving my best in anything - work, home or community - I needed time out before taking on new or additional challenges.  

It was (and still is) terrifying, and it took me a good few months to truly "switch off". Once I did I became so grateful that taking a break meant being able to slow down and breathe, to focus on home and health, to enjoy agenda-free days with my kids, to take the foot off the accelerator, to embrace creativity, connection and serving my community... you know, things that too often get chucked on the back burner. 

I share this because I want to normalise people taking a break when they need a break. It might just be a short break in a busy day or week, it might be a career break. Point is... we all need rest, and we should NEVER feel guilty for wanting some downtime or pausing to reprioritise, refocus or recover. 

No one else should get to determine what "success" or "productivity" looks like/means for you. 💕
Impromptu paint workshop with some little visitors Impromptu paint workshop with some little visitors today! Whipped out the watercolours and acrylics after lunch and just enjoyed some down time, playing with colour, experimenting with texture and stamping mint leaves... and discussing the fact pink is not an actual colour according to science (and then had to assure them that pink did still exist... But apparently it is just something our brains made up? What?!). 

Painting really is therapy for me. There's something primal and grounding about the activity that helps me enter a completely different space mentally and emotionally. And so it was nice to be able to offer this as a method of play and recreation (and to experience it myself).

Tip 1: Watercolours are a far less stressful way to introduce paint to little ones - find cheap non-toxic washable paint and don't stress about mixing all your colours - it's part of the fun. Embrace the mess. 
Tip 2: I have been reusing the same blue dollar store table cloth to protect our dining table for 4 years. We wipe it down with paper towels or baby wipes at the end of a painting session, and wrap it all up abd shake it off outside after a play dough session. It's getting a bit holey but it does the job. 
Tip 3: Use a clothes horse to peg up and dry paintings as kids finish them. It's pretty satisfying seeing all their pictures hanging up and shining in the sun.

🌞🖌🎨🙌🏽💕
To the woman wondering if she'll ever get through To the woman wondering if she'll ever get through her to-do list before the end of the day... you are enough. 

To the woman wondering if she's cleaning/working/playing/exercising/cuddling/learning/teaching/disciplining/guiding/supporting/giving/loving as much as she can/should... you are enough.

To the woman who can never keep up with messages and voicemails and always forgets to reply... you are enough. 

To the woman doubled over in pain because her body isn't agreeing with her and she can't access the support she needs... you are enough. 

To the woman who is run ragged... you are enough. 

To the woman who knows she shouldn't probably eat that/buy that/say that... you are enough. 

To the woman wondering if she should apply for the job when she doesn't meet all the criteria... you are enough. 

To the woman who wonders if her contribution to her home or her community will ever get the recognition it deserves... you are enough. 

To the woman who is tired of searching for a place where she is respected - not just for what she brings but who she is... you are enough. 

To the woman wishing days like this weren't so exhausting... you are enough. 

To the woman who fears (or has been told) she is intimidating (instead of confident), outspoken (instead of articulate), too soft (instead of empathetic), power-hungry (instead of hard-working), lazy (instead of balanced)... you are enough. 

To the woman wondering what her worth is when so many are seen, recognised, paid and promoted before she is... you are enough. 

To the woman feeling uncertain, afraid, exhausted, frustrated, alone, restless... you are enough. 

To the woman who hopes and works hard for a better world for the future, wondering if we'll ever get there... you are enough. 

The world needs you, whether you're ready for battle or ready for rest. The world needs you, whether you're certain or still seeking. The world needs you as you are, because you are unique and irreplaceable. You are worth celebrating, today and everyday. 

You are enough. 

--- Tag a sister who needs reminding. ❤ xoxo

#iwd2022 #internationalwomensday #sisterhood
Yesterday marked the start of the Lenten season fo Yesterday marked the start of the Lenten season for millions of Catholics around the world. The road to our usual church was blocked yesterday due to floodwater, but thankfully some the rain eased and I could make it to morning Mass today. 

This week the skies are heavy, as are the hearts of many who have lost their homes and their peace - whether due to war or natural disaster. And so I pray. I pray because I know I need to ask for God's grace and mercy - I know I am so small and unable... but when He guides me I can see more clearly where to serve, how to help, where to channel my energy, time and resources... 

When it's all too much and I am unsure, this is the place I can return... knowing that the time I spend in His presence empowers me in a way no human eye can see.

If there is something you would like me to pray for, especially this Lent, let me know (you can shoot me a message too), and I'll bring it to our Father with love. ❤❤

#Lent #Lent2022
Went to Mass this morning after a very restless ni Went to Mass this morning after a very restless night. The Gospel was about a man who had brought his child to the disciples asking them to heal the child from convulsions that would often put him in physical danger. The disciples were unable. Here's part of the the conversation Jesus had with the father: 

"Jesus asked the father, 'How long has this been happening to him?' 

'From childhood,' he replied 'and it has often thrown him into the fire and into the water, in order to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have pity on us and help us.' 

'If you can?' retorted Jesus. 'Everything is possible for anyone who has faith.' 

Immediately the father of the boy cried out, 'I do have faith. Help the little faith I have!'" For the full Gospel, see Mark 9:14-29

Yes, this Gospel is a reminder that anything - and everything - is possible for anyone who has faith. But, as Fr Redmond pointed out this morning, it's also about believing that our faith has the ability and opportunity to grow. Faith isn't a one-off grace or gift we get once. It's a seed that is planted, it is something we can nourish and nurture. It is something that can wane when challenged or ignored. 

Simply put, faith is something we shouldn't take for granted. Faith required prayer, action and desire on our part.

That exclamation from a father desperate to do whatever he can to save his son is a prayer. It is a cry for help to God, asking him to increase and strengthen his faith. "Help the little faith I have!" he pleads. 

O Lord, that I may be humble enough to come to you and request the same when my faith is too small and I put limits on your grace. Help the little faith I have.

ID 1: An open page of a dot grid journal. The words “I have faith. Help the little faith I have” are lettered in pink ink. A pink Pentel Brush Sign Pen lies on an angle in top right corner. 

ID2: A golden tabernacle is in the centre of the frame. On either side are embroidered images from Bible stories.

.

.

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#FindingJoy #JoyAdanWrites #PursuitOfJoy #PerfectlyImperfect #PracticeMakesProgress #CalledToCreate #CreativePractice #CreativeEntrepreneur #CatholicCreative #BibleLettering #Journal
Consider this permission to slow down. ❤ ID: Op Consider this permission to slow down. ❤

ID: Open page of a notebook with lilac hand-lettering that says “Don't rush to the urgent at the expense of the important”. A lilac @pentel_australia brush sign pen lies on top the page beside the writing.
I reckon this is one of my favourite lines in “S I reckon this is one of my favourite lines in “Surface Pressure”. It's one of many truths in the song, but I love this one in particular because people who know their worth & dignity tend to light up the room. 😉

Meanwhile, we've just ended 1 week of iso.. which we spent listening to the @encantomovie soundtrack on repeat and playing Super Mario and table tennis for hours on end. Thankfully, COVID symptoms were mild and shortlived, the boys maintained good spirits, and I managed to squeeze in painting as down-time over the weekend while everyone else slept. Now to declutter my desk and get back to business.......

ID: An open page dot grid notebook lies on a wooden desk. The left page is painted with blue, gold, brown and green watercolour flowers around the border. In the centre is navy blue lettering, with the words “I move mountains, I move churches, and I glow coz I know what my worth is.”

#ink #handwriting #catholiccreatives #qotd #pentelbrushpen
Flashback to this nugget of wisdom. ❤ Wherever y Flashback to this nugget of wisdom. ❤ Wherever you are, whoever you are, may you rest in the knowledge that not only are you made to love others, you are made to receive and worthy of being loved also. 

Image: Framed image of the quote “Love is, therefore, the fundamental vocation of every human being. - St John Paul II - Familiaris Consortio” lettered in blue foil and sitting on a wooden shelf surrounded by green plants. 

#LoveIs #Vocation #Calling
#StValentinesDay
Have had the best kind of whirlwind week of weddin Have had the best kind of whirlwind week of wedding bliss!! Big big love to my Toasties @kate_samways @sammyjkerr and cuzins4lyf @philipjamolin @simmyyyy 

You both chose parts of John 15 for your ceremonies. ❤ Praying you always remember that your love for each other comes straight from the same Love that powers every good thing in this universe... that whenever you hear music that moves you, marvel at the mountains, feel the sunshine on your skin, ride the waves, or stop in awe or wonder, you remember that a spark of those beautiful things isn't anywhere as big and powerful as the spark that brought you to the one you chose to enjoy your days with. And that through every magical moment, big or small, joyful or sorrowful, that your love for each other remains powerful and complete. 🥂💕🥰💕❤
“Without God, we cannot. Without us, God will no “Without God, we cannot. Without us, God will not.” - St Augustine

Been reflecting about this one a lot over the past few weeks... about the agency we too often forfeit or conveniently forget when change demands effort and intention. We're invited to be co-creators, to be cooperators... but that in itself is both power and a responsibility (yep, just got all Spiderman on you, whoops) 😝.

I lettered this one while watching the morning surfers at Flynns Beach. The waves came in fast, strong and big that day. And the thing that kept popping into my head was the determination of the surf students as they made their way out. We can't control the waves... another power beyond us does that. But we do have to consider when we start kicking or when to jump on the board if we want to ride the waves. 

🌊
I made a thing! Finally unboxed and turned on the I made a thing! Finally unboxed and turned on the sewing machine I bought during the last lockdown. The first thing I did was “fix” a fitted sheet (by sewing a seam on the wrong side, but I mean it still fits on the bed so... It's technically fixed). And because I'm an impatient person, I jumped right into making a half-circle skirt with remnant fabric (thanks Google) and then stuffed it up by adding a pocket without really planning ahead. Because why would I even bother making clothes if they don't have pockets??

You know my love for imperfect things (the pocket kinda faces the wrong way and there's a random seam next to the pocket that makes it bunch up) 😂 but WHATEVER. It fits (*just*😝), the pocket is functional and I am wearing it today because I can. Lol. 

#WhatAmIEvenDoing #SewWhat
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