I miss & I grieve & I'm blessed.

Right now, I really miss home. I miss Australia.

And by "right now" I mean "right now", but also the last couple of days. The last week. The last month, really. 

It's only when you leave anything, anyone and anywhere do you truly realize it's beauty, it's uniqueness, it's comfort and it's worth; and I grieve - something in me grieves - for the people and the landscape and the country and the culture that I grew up in, and that I left behind.

I miss waking up to the sound of kookaburra's, and  to morning cuddles with my beloved dog. I miss Anzac biscuits, and milo, and scones which are not in the shape of triangles, because that's stupid.

 I miss my bed, and my parents, my brothers, and my friends. People who just want to hang out, and watch movies, and talk.

 I miss dance parties before, during and after youth group, I miss studying on the grass outside, and I miss just driving to the ocean every time I needed space, and sun. 

I miss early morning runs in the bush, with the occasional echidna's, and the early morning wallabies, and I miss having grandpa come over Sunday nights for dinner. I miss running past Woolworths every morning and being tempted by the wafts of fresh early morning bakery goods. 

 I miss playing board games with my brothers, getting overly passionate about the game of Survivor, and eating vegetarian, and having hippy friends with dread locks, and eating fresh seafood, and always running into somebody I know when I look like poop at Cherrybrook Shops.

 I miss driving past my primary school everyday, and I miss speaking for Orange Hope, and I miss taking photos, and I miss blocks of Cadbury chocolate. I miss taking the stupid City Rail trains, and mocking how they say "Berowra", and I miss Sydney Harbour - in all its glorious beauty. 

I even miss uni; going to classes, finding a good spot in the library,  structuring essays, and walking down the tree-lined walkaways in the sun. 

When you leave so much of what made you you behind, and so many of the people who understand your strange ways ( like wearing multiple pairs of mis-matching socks at all times, only being able to eat chocolate when I have a matching glass of water, not liking cake, and brushing my teeth for ten minutes), you can become - I have become - a little lost.

In one of my classes last year (that's my fantastic memory for you) we were talking about the cultural idea of "soul loss" for some around the world. Where we in the West understand the body and medicine from a scientific, matter based perspective, that's not universal; and many, many people believe that sickness is a result of the soul getting lost, or simply wandering away. If I weren't a passionate believer of Jesus Christ, and if the symptoms of soul loss were feeling lost, fidgety, discontent, and lonely; then I would be tempted to believe that it happened; my soul has simply wandered away. 

Travel really does break you down a little bit, and show you what's left. What's left when all the culture stuff, the family stuff and the routine stuff is stripped away. 

It's been difficult for me, moving here. It's been difficult for me, living here. It's been difficult for me, trying to fit in here. Making friends here. I don't feel like I belong here. It's been difficult, emotionally.

I've had to grow up, pay rent, buy my first car, deal with a car accident, deal with moving house, deal with cooking and cleaning, deal with finances, deal with being an adult, deal with a whole new set of people, a whole new city, a whole new church, a whole new food palette, a whole new country and a whole new culture.  I've had to be in an adult relationship, learning forgiveness, selflessness, self control and other really difficult lessons about who I am, and how I react to certain things. I've had to learn about contentment, and joy, and purpose, and destiny. And the stupid price of petrol, and the fact they call it "gas". AND driving on the right hand side of the road, on the left hand side of the car.

I feel sick. I have a headache, and my nose is blocked, and my muscles hurt, and I'm tired; and I'm alternating between sweating and freezing cold. I haven't worked out in two days because I'm so exhausted, and today because I left my running shoes at my new house. Ugh. I am Bec, hear me complain. 

Last night, I got really kind of frustrated at God. All I want to do, is what He wants. I just want to go where He wants. I just want Him to tell me, so I don't make big fat forever life altering mistakes. I asked Him to give me a sign, to close a door, to open another, to give me peace, to speak, to give me a dream; to give me anything, something, and by the end I was kind of begging. 

Why do I find myself with no peace, and silence? Especially when all I want to do is His will, and all I am finding is discontentment, fear and unease? And especially especially when the decisions I have to make in this season of my life are truly the most important, and will determine the rest of my short days on this crazy earth? Why, why, why God. 

I'm one of the most indecisive people in the world, and I've always found it very difficult to make decisions, big or little, and so I really, truly wanted God to show up and give me some direction on this one. Please, please, please God. Especially when we have immigration lawyers and deadlines and families and plane tickets and church boards and finances and border security involved. Especially when the entire rest of my life is involved. 

And honestly, with all this constantly swirling around and around in my head, and two jobs, and youth group, and a fundraising campaign, and moving house, and a serious relationship, and not enough sleep, and missing home;  a lot of the time, I  just want to throw into the towel and go home. I want familiar, I want comfortable, I want home. I want to drive to the beach, and take off my shoes and stand at the waters edge, and breathe in the salt, and still myself. 

How I long to soar down on a Qantas Jet and fly over my beautiful city; with those familiar butterflies rumbling in my belly as I come back home.

It hurts that I may not live in Australia for the majority of my life. It hurts that I may live a life away from my family. It hurts. It hurts. It all hurts.

I know that God is real, I'm convinced of that. I know that He is good and faithful; I've experienced and witnessed that, time and time again. There's no doubts there. I know He speaks; He has, again and again. And He does, every time I open His word. But that doesn't mean I don't hurt, and that I'm not confused. 

The good news is that no matter where I am in this strange world, I won't be home. Because this world isn't my home. I will never feel completely content, I will always long for more. I will always struggle with the wants of my flesh, and the desires of my soul. This world is not a good or perfect place, and I will always feel frustrated, and confused, because I am an alien here. 

In America, I'm an alien. To be honest, I'm a little tired of being "the Australian girl" . Not because I'm ashamed of being Australian - not even a little bit, I LOVE that I am, I just want to be Bec. I'm not my nationality, I'm just me. 

And no matter where I am; I'll miss where I'm not. And ultimately, I'll long for where I'm going. 

Feelings change. Feelings are fleeting, and you know what? Even though I don't feel it right now, I don't need to. It's not about a feeling. And no matter what decision I make, God is in control, and uses all things for my good. No matter how frustrated I get; He remains loving, and patient, and in control. He is strong, where I am weak. My feelings change, His character doesn't. 

I have so much to be thankful for, so many blessings, and so much to do look forward to.

I'm from a beautiful country, and an incredible family. I had a wonderful upbringing, and I'm educated, well fed, and wealthy; extremely wealthy by the worlds standards. I'm free, and I'm healthy. I can turn on the tap and get clean water, and I'm self motivated enough to get up at 5:30am every morning to run. Who does that. However I count all that as loss, when counting the truth of Jesus Christ in my life. The one who knit me together in my mothers womb, knows me better then I ever could, and breathes purpose into my every moment of my every day. Not only does He love me, but He loves me so much He has surrounded me with others who love me too. And they tell me everyday. 

I am hurt, confused, grieving, and missing home; but oh so very, very blessed.