wondering

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the best laid plans

I’m right in the middle of the biggest week of my training for the marathon – with a 35k run scheduled tomorrow morning marking the start of my taper toward the event now just three weeks away.

Or I should be.

Truth is, I haven’t been able to run since a really nice 20k hit out last Saturday. The rest of the weekend was spent preparing for a retaining wall construction, handling the business end of pick, shovel and jackhammer. Somewhere along the line I overdid it, and did some abdominal damage.  The Doc has been good, but recovery slower than I would have hoped. Even as Friday rolls around, I think I’m still a couple of days away from being able to run again.

Ouch.  No tears yet, but it’s been frustrating.

So, 7 days of no running has had two consequences.

First, and on the positive side of the ledger, my legs are feeling great.  All the little niggles, daily aches and pains are gone. I don’t wake up with sore ankles, don’t feel tightness in calves and shins. Everything feels fresh and ready.

But the head is not doing so well. It’s been a hard week to manage the mental side of not running when the event is so close, and the preparation so far has been so consistent.  I’m definitely glad to have had this hiccup this week and not in another week or two, but I wish I hadn’t had it at all.  I’m not sure of the impact on fitness levels. Hopefully the base fitness is there to get through this little hurdle without serious consequences for the race weekend itself.

The training plan from here is a little up in the air now.  If I can get back on the road Sunday or Monday, I’ll probably try and fit in a long run mid-week and then go back onto the plan as it currently stands.  If I can’t run until mid-next week it will be time to reassess and seek some advice on how best to use the time remaining. Maybe next Saturday might be a longer run that originally anticipated.

All of which goes to remind me, that the best laid plans never really survive very long.  There are always situations and circumstances that interfere and force us to consider change – no matter how meticulous the preparation process has been.  Whether that be a corporate strategic plan, and new year’s resolution, a family’s plans for the year ahead, or something as relatively unimportant as a marathon training plan, their is always the likelihood of change forcing its way into our reality.

Which reminds me of a reflection I wrote a little while back about this challenge of interrupted plans.  It might be time to take some of my own advice, to ponder flexibility, resilience and creativity. To enjoy this interruption and the chance to sleep in just a little longer in the mornings…at least while it lasts.

Training Since Last Blog (details at strava)

5 June – 10k @ 5.30 p/km

7 June – 20k @ 5.26 p/km

 

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the value of training

This week I finally admitted it out loud:  I’m sick of training to run a marathon.

I woke up Thursday morning, alarm set early to head out for a mid-week run, and just did not want to go.  It wasn’t the consequence of a late night the previous evening, or too many days of running in the week, just the cumulative effect of weeks and months of running to try and get my middle-aged body in decent enough shape to run 42km.

This day, I was over it all.  I just wanted the race weekend to be here, and to be over, so that I can go back to bed. So that I can choose to run if I feel like it, instead of running to a schedule.

But, my schedule said run, and the last thing I’m going to do is let the months of training slide because of slackness in the last few weeks…so I dragged myself out the door and onto the pavement.

And I felt rotten the whole morning. I felt every twinge, every ache, every step. And I ran slow, and not very far.  There’s no question that state-of-mind has an impact on performance!

The next day I ran into a PE teacher/sports-trainer friend and was telling him my sob story. He said “You know Scott, those training miles, the ones that you do even when you most want to be at home in bed, they’re the most valuable training miles you will ever run”.

I didn’t believe him at the time, but with a week to ponder, I think maybe he’s right.  The moments when we somehow manage to talk ourselves into what we know is the right thing, even when we’d rather be elsewhere…those moments are important.  Maybe it’s the minutes I choose to spend reading night-time stories to the six-year old instead of snoozing on the couch. Maybe it’s the yard work, or time invested with the family, or volunteering at my community group….whatever the category, it’s the times we go when we’re just not motivated that really matter.

Anyway, a couple of days later I was scheduled for my longest run yet – 32km.  I think you can guess how much I wasn’t looking forward to that experience!  My previous longest at a little over 28km hadn’t ended well, with a little walking mixed in the last couple of km to nurse home some injured legs. That memory, together with the general funk about the whole project meant I was dreading that alarm bell.

What a surprise then, and a blessed relief, to find myself thoroughly enjoying the whole run.  Pace was good (still probably a little too fast for training…but such is life), the few aches and pains that popped up along the way disappeared as I plodded along, and to top it all off, the river was shrouded in fog to lend an ethereal quality to the early miles, before the sun came out to cheer me home. It was perhaps the best “long” run I’ve had, and definitely the best in weeks.

Don’t get me wrong. I was spent by the time I got home, and nursing a couple of pretty painful knees – but way better than my previous long run, and way better than I expected as I headed out the door that morning.

And with my 32.7k including quite a few hills (where the Gold Coast race is almost totally flat), the whole experience gave me a much needed shot of confidence that 42km is going to be achievable.

Not easy. And not pain-free. But achievable.

I guess that’s the value of the hours and hours of training. Even when it doesn’t feel like it to me, it’s been building and conditioning the muscles to do what they could not have done before. To churn out km after km on one Sunday in July, hopefully going the distance and enjoying the journey.

On this second-last long training run, I think my brain finally caught up with my body.  Everything feels like it’s nearly ready. The training is working.  There are a couple of weeks of solid running left, one more long run (35km) and then it’s into the blessed relief of the taper and pre-race rest.

I got to wondering (as I do) about parallels.  About other areas in life in which long hours of preparation, weeks and months and years of training quietly sneak up on you, preparing you for some new experience.

Maybe it’s education and formal training. Maybe it’s on-the-job learning. Maybe it’s hours of training sessions at a sport or hobby.  Maybe it’s years of practice as a first-time parent helping to prepare you for each new stage of a child’s life.

I don’t know what the answer is for you, or even necessarily for me.

I only know that training matters.  It prepares us, equips us, enables us.

Even when it’s not fun.

Training Since Last Blog

24/5  –  20km @ 5.35 p/km

27/5 – 10.4km @ 5.36 p/km

29/5 – 10.2km @ 5.33 p/km

1/6   –  32.7km @ 5.41 p/km

4/6  – Ride 40km

Details at strava

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the family affair

On Mother’s Day we headed into Southbank, where Sheri, Riley and my mum joined some friends in a team entered in the Mother’s Day Classic Fun Run/Walk. It was kind of cool to see the three generations together walking/running in the 4.5k event, and all three enjoyed it a lot.

As did the other two kids and I, watching from the sidelines.  So we went home all inspired to all enter the event in 2015 and run/walk together…but that wasn’t quite soon enough so satisfy our craving for instant gratification.

So we scoured the internet for events, Mitch signed up for a kids try-athlon hosted by Weetbix this coming weekend at Southbank, and then we started looking further afield.

The Gold Coast Marathon came to mind…for the obvious reason that we’ll be there for the event anyway. When we dug a little deeper, the whole event includes a heap of different distances and categories…so we’ve signed up the whole gang. Mitch and MK will run the 2k kids dash, Sheri and Riley the 5.7k run, all on Saturday morning, and I’ll be there Sunday for the full distance event.

It’s given our whole family quite a buzz to all be entered. Training plans are developing and we’ve already had one whole-family training session on the street out the front – with Mitch practicing triathlon transitions on the footpath, and everybody else running laps of the block (including the dog…who thought it was awesome!).

It’s been nice to talk together about it this week, to be sharing a goal and as a family looking forward to an event that had up until now been mostly about my Sunday race.

Training for the marathon has continued, with a little bit of both up and down over the last couple of weeks.  I’ve managed two quite long runs at 25 and 28.7k respectively) but also run into a couple of little niggly injury worries – both problems I’ve had in the past.

With some time on the massage table, a few days rest and a session with a running-specialist physio at intraining, all seems under control for the moment, so I’ll just (cautiously) press on with the program. A quieter weekend this week (with long run at 18-20k) precedes what is planned as a 32k long run next weekend, so it’s definitely a week to look after the legs a little.

The other down moment this week was waking up one morning for my regular mid-distance run and almost pulling the pin. Mostly I’ve not struggled for motivation, and once I’m awake have been happy to get up and go.

This day however, I really struggled to get going. I had that thought “why am I doing this?” and for the first time, had no answer.  It was only that (a) I knew I would feel guilty if I didn’t go; and (b) I have some friends who have been great encouragers on the whole marathon project that got me out of bed and onto the streets.

I guess that’s life sometimes isn’t it.  No matter how much we like the idea of something (moving house, new job, parenthood, whatever your mountain might be) there are moments when the reality of the challenge overwhelms the theoretical motivation. There are moments when we say “why am I doing this?”.

On the whole I’m not advocating for guilt as a motivator, so that leaves me with the critical importance of friends and family that encourage and support us.  So, I’m thinking, next time you’re struggling for motivation, who can you turn to that will help you feel great about what you’re attempting?  And conversely, look around to see who in your life is trying something new….and fire some words of encouragement there way.

A little of that action goes a very long way.

Training since I last blogged:

10/5  –  25.3km @ 5.37 pace

12/5  –  47.5km road bike

13/5  –  10.0km @ 5.33 pace

15/5  –  10.2km @ 5.34 pace

19/5  –  28.7km @ 5.51 pace

22/5  –  8.2@km 5.53 pace

Full details at strava

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the pothole

The pothole (the geological kind, not the road traffic kind) is, I think, an interesting phenomenon.

A little pebble gets caught in a crack or depression, swirls around and gradually, bit-by-bit, grinds away the underlying rock. It digs deeper and deeper, over hundreds, thousands, even millions of years.

I quite like potholes because they remind me that with persistence and time, even a little gravel can make big changes.

But the metaphor works the other way too…that over such a long period, a little pebble can do a lot of damage.

I’m starting to wonder more and more if there’s a sad, disturbing kind of pothole forming in in our (western, mainstream, Australian) culture. Here’s a couple of symptoms:

The vast majority of climate scientists are very clear about anthropogenic climate change. We are heating up our planet with our insatiable desire for burning fossil fuels, and we will pay a heavy price. More frequent, more intense weather events, rising sea levels, loss of habitat and flora/fauna, people dying. Those that are best placed to know, appear relatively certain that this is all true.  Almost every counter-argument has been demonstrated to be false.  And yet we stand on our right to hold our own opinion, be held hostage by big business and declare “climate change is crap” because “I know a guy who said….”

Immunisation rates are falling, with the result that herd immunity against long-ago contained diseases is now at risk in parts of Australia.  Medical experts (those that are best placed to know) are clear about the value of immunisation, and the tiny risks involved in it. And yet we stand on our right to hold our own opinion, to deny our own children (and other children) this safety net.

Politicians are almost universally disliked and regarded as untrustworthy.  For non-believers the same is true for religious leaders. And probably a long list of others.  We who sit at home and google conspiracy theories feel quite justified in declaring that we know better than those best placed to know…about nearly any topic we care to name.

I personally am the “World’s Expert” (TM) on medicine, climate science, national leadership, international relations, economics, search and rescue for lost aircraft,  Formula 1 Team Management, Australian Cricket team selection, NRL refereeing standards…and plenty more.

And so I make  up my own mind, irrespective of the views of those who are best placed to know.

I’m not (really) interested in debating the pros and cons of climate science, religion or immunisation, but I am wondering whether these things are symptoms (rather than causes) of a bigger issue:

The erosion of trust.

As a society I can’t help but wonder if we are becoming a place in which trust is an ever decreasing commodity.  With the rise of the individual and of self-determination, comes a first subtle, but now accelerating erosion of trust.

I don’t trust politicians, I don’t trust the media, I don’t trust scientists, I don’t trust religious leaders…on and on it goes. I don’t trust my neighbours enough to let my kids walk to school alone.

And sure, let’s be fair and honest, some of those whom we no longer trust bring it on themselves (I’m looking at you Australian politics), but just as often it’s because I get an idea in my head that I know better.

I know better than the climate scientist, the immunologist, the referee, the footy selector.

And so the next time we disagree, I’ll trust them a little less.  And a little less. And a little less.

Until there’s just not a whole lot of trust left.

Mis-trust might just be the pebble that is digging away at the bedrock, forming a deeper and deeper pothole.

And trust, it seems to me, is one of those things that is self-fulfilling.  If I exhibit trust, then those I trust are more likely to act in a a trustworthy way, and so I’ll trust them more (and so on).  Could the reverse, I wonder, also be true?

If my pondering has any merit (and lets be frank, as I’ve already announced, I’m the World’s Expert (TM), so it must) the question must be, what to do about it? How to remove the pebble of mistrust and start to repair the damage?

Is the answer to try harder to trust the people around me? The people who are best placed to know? To explicitly put my trust in them and demand trustworthy action?

Perhaps.

But just as important, it seems to me, the answer is for me to act in a trustworthy manner myself – to build the pool of communal trust that is going around, by ensuring that my family, my friends, my colleagues, those I support in my daily work, my neighbours (those I encounter as I live my life)…they can trust me.

To trust, and be trusted.

Sounds like community.

(p.s. just so we’re really clear…the “World’s Expert” (TM) claim is an attempt at humour…)

 

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on yellow cars and casual, cultural sexism

We play a game, our family.

It’s a driving game, it keeps the kids occupied on long trips, gives us something fun to rib each other about along the way.

We call it “Spotto”.  Maybe you play a similar game, but in our version it’s a point for each time you see a yellow car and call out “SPOTTO!” before anybody else does.  As with any family game there are a few quirky rules, some inside understandings of what is and isn’t yellow (Brisbane City Council buses for example, don’t qualify) and for some unknown reason lost in the sands of time spotting a purple car and calling “SPURPLE!” accrues double points.

Hey, it’s fun, and its in the privacy of our own car…

There’s a problem however, and it’s a big one.

Once you start spotting yellow cars (SPOTTO!) it’s just not that easy to stop.

And so now I find myself even when on my own (that’s right…no kids to use an excuse) making a mental note of every yellow car I pass.  I swear to you I haven’t said “SPOTTO!” out loud on my own….yet….but that’s the problem. To borrow a well known advertising catch phrase…once you pop, you just can’t stop.

At the same time as I find myself thinking about yellow cars (SPOTTO!) I’m become more and more conscious of the casual (and not so casual) sexism that still seems ingrained in so many levels of our society.  Maybe that’s a strange connection to make…but go with me here.

As a father of two girls and a boy, I’m very conscious of the opportunities Sheri and I want our girls to have, of the way we want them to be treated, and of the responsibility of our son to know just how he can and should act with regards the women in his now and future life.

And in our current world….there’s a pretty ugly reality that I’m noticing more and more often (SPOTTO!).

Not with me?

Take a look at any Saturday morning “video hits” TV show, where film clip after film clip treats women as little more than scantily clad window dressing.  Men dress in suits, jeans, shirts and women (even when they’re the star attraction) may as well be in body paint.

Take a look at my favourite sport of motor racing, where start grids filled with heroic male drivers have the decoration of a grid girl in Lycra close at hand (or maybe your favourite athletes are footballers and the grid girls come in the form of cheerleaders).  Ridiculously, sadly, even in my chosen hobby of R/C car racing (that’s right…I race toy cars) we sometimes have the stupidity of “trophy girls” at major events.  How do I introduce my daughters to this hobby when basically this is the image of women perpetuated in even this obscure hobby?

Take a look at any number of magazines aimed at women and perpetuating the stereotypes of make-up, fashion and appearance as underlying all self worth.  Even the recent “no make-up selfie” trend that whilst ostensibly has a cancer awareness message (and at best even cancer fund-raising) at heart underneath seems to be implying “no make-up = courageous”.

No man has to put up with such nonsense.

Women continue to be under-represented in leadership in nearly every corner of our society (Federal parliament?) and even where they are present are treated differently (can I say Julia Gillard as just one very visible example without getting into political point-scoring debates?).

They’re underpaid, misrepresented, rejected. Women are subject to totally degrading treatment on the basis of appearance and they are sexualised relentlessly.  Then there’s violence against women prevalent even in mainstream Australian society.

The more I think of it, the more I see it (SPOTTO!). It’s everywhere.  Even though there’s clearly been structural progress in recent decades, there’s still a lot of pretty ugly cultural sexism.

To be fair, there’s plenty of pretty rough male stereotypes as well (cue the witless, useless, clueless father figure than inhabits so many TV commercials and sitcoms), and there are some pretty serious issues around boys in education or even church models that seem more shaped in a way to which girls respond more readily…..but to my eyes (SPOTTO!) the girls have a much tougher road to walk.

And our daughters are growing up in this culture, and will be victim to it. They’ll face pressure to conform. They’ll face expectations about sex and sexuality. They’ll have to abide by different standards than the boys around them.

The more I see it (SPOTTO!) the more I am conscious of just how far we have to go, and of the fact that I’m only just starting to work this out, see what’s in front of me, and can only wonder at the times I’ve probably been complicit.

And more aware of just how much I want both our girls, and our boy to see through the surface of our culture, to find a different way, to live to a different standard.

The fact is our girls (and our boy) are awesome. They’re smart, funny, committed, compassionate, imaginative, creative and talented.  One is intense and motivated, the other non-stop joyful and social.  That’s the basis on which they should progress in life….not on gender, appearance, make-up, short skirts and photo-shop.

The thing is…while I hope I gradually stop seeing yellow cars (SPOTTO!) because to be honest, it’s an annoying game, I sincerely hope the only reason I stop spotting ingrained, cultural, casual sexism is because bit by bit we find a better way.

Bit by bit.

(spotto)

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have you had a busy week?

A couple of days ago I was in the corner store picking up some bits and pieces. As I wandered up to the counter I asked the assistant “have you had a busy day?”

She answered in the affirmative and we got into a pretty typical shop-counter conversation about how busy life is.

I bet you recognise that conversation.  Lots of us have it, nearly every day.

Sometime over the last couple of years something has changed in our society.  It’s subtle, but I wonder if it’s important.

We used to start conversations with something like “how are you?” or “are you well?”…..but now it’s “have you been busy?” or “do you have a busy weekend coming up?”.

Busyness is the new in thing.

The expectation when we ask that question is that we’ll hear back “yep, flat out”.

Busyness is the new fashion accessory…the “new black” if you like.

We pride ourselves on how busy we are. The one with the most full diary is the most worthy. The one with the most evening commitments, the busiest social calendar for the weekend, with the most extra-curricular activities for the kids….the busiest wins.

There’s very little in our society today (apart from our treatment of the vulnerable, or the ongoing ingrained sexism in our world….but they’re stories for another day) that are more damaging I think to families, and to individuals than this perpetual obsession with busyness.

The costs of busyness are high.

Physical tiredness, mental exhaustion, emotional strain, spiritual flat-ness, relational distance.

And a messy house…though maybe that’s just my house…I can’t be sure.

I wonder too – and I worry – about the kind of example we’re setting for our kids with this perpetual busyness.

I wonder if we should be striving really hard to keep lots of empty space in our home diaries, make sure there are afternoons when we just go for a walk around the neighbourhood then come home for a simple dinner and hang out.  I wonder if we should prioritise the preservation of down-time on weekends rather than back-to-back-to-back social, sporting and other engagements.

I’m a big fan of couch time, or hammock time, or “promenade time” (as we used to call the kind of relaxed afternoon walk that we seem to preserve for holidays only) but it’s rare.  I don’t even really like being busy…but it’s such a point of pride I can’t help getting sucked into it, and filling any empty moment with something planned.

What might happen if the next time someone asks “are you free Tuesday night?” I answer “No, I’m having some relax time with my family”?

And will it be weird if I ask the shop assistant when I next stop by “have you got a quiet afternoon ahead”?

So how about you?

Had a busy day?

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step away from the golf ball….

golfThe other night I was out at a golf driving range, with a couple of mates.

It’s something we do whenever we get the chance, meet out there, smash some golf balls out into a paddock, tell stories, listen to each other.  Really its just an excuse to hang out together, but there is a little golf as well.

When you’re the kind of golfer I am (most accurately described as a hacker!) there are lots of experiences that are common.

There is the experience of spending long frustrating periods searching for a golf ball in the long rough.

There is the experience of watching putt after putt miss left, right, short and sometimes go straight over the hole.

There is the experience of that mysterious slice, seemingly un-correctable.

There is the experience of the ball screaming along inches above the ground instead of launching skyward in a truly beautiful arc (a phenomenon we hack golfers call “the worm burner”).

On this particular night, I was reminded of another regular experience for hopeless golfers. Continue reading →

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the joy of the job: a new beginning?

I was chatting with Mitch the 10-year-old this week.

As an aside, how good is it when your kids reach a point where the conversations turn interesting, and insightful and not just about crayons, lego and fart jokes (ok, I confess one of those topics of conversation is primarily my responsibility in our family)?

Anyway…leaving that mental image aside…out of the blue, Mitch said to me:

“Dad, do you enjoy your job?”

Do I enjoy my job.  Interesting question. Well…do I enjoy my job?

I made some non-committal answer like “sometimes I do Mitch, and sometimes I don’t”.

Mitch’s response?

“If I had your job Dad, I would enjoy it a lot!”

I’m assuming he was talking about my real 9-5 job, not the other in which I moonlight as a columnist and product tester for a R/C car magazine.

The truth of course, in adult world, is that most of us have parts of our job/life that we thoroughly enjoy, and parts that we don’t.  The bits of my job where I’m trying to channel creativity, getting involved in interesting conversations that unfold possibility, that help people (including me) see light…these I enjoy thoroughly. The bits that are administrative, organising events, management tasks…well….not so much.

But Mitch’s question has stuck with me, because in an adult-kind-of-way to brush it off with a “sometimes yes, sometimes no” answer seems to do it (and him) a disservice.

I think the deeper question he was asking might be something like “am I glad I do what I do? is it more than just a job? do I look forward to the opportunities I have in my work?”

Or maybe “you spend a lot of time at work Dad (subtext: when you could be playing cricket with me), is it all worthwhile?”

Maybe the truth is that while I’d like to be a glass-half-full kind of guy, I’ve accidentally slipped into a kind of pessimism about the organisation I work for and it’s challenging future. And from that point of view, the word “enjoy” doesn’t quite fit.

So my challenge, for 2014, is to reshape that attitude, to look for the possibility and the potential in every day. To remember my sense of excitement about my work in this organisation, alongside these excellent people.

To reach a point where I am able to answer honestly the next time Mitch asks if I enjoy my job:

“You bet I do”

How about you…do you enjoy your job?

And just because it’s my role in my family…here’s a little gratuitous dad humour for you:

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a little peace of christmas

christmas treeI found myself in the Brisbane city centre this week, taking my kids to see the parade, pantomine and (honestly, amazing) city hall light spectacular.

It’s Christmas, it’s school holidays, it’s a fun outing for the kids.  Those were the kind of thoughts in mind as we headed off into town.

Unexpectedly to find myself in the middle of my own baffling analysis of what Christmas means today.

The parade was an impressive but kind of confused mix of the Nutcracker story with Christmas themes. Marching bands, ballerinas, stunt-mice, toy soldiers, choirs, dancing Christmas trees, kids dressed as gifts, Santa in his two-reindeer-drawn-sleigh (the rest presumably resting up for the big flight on 25/12) were all in the mix.

And right in the middle, somewhere after the christmas trees, gift-wrapped children and marching drummers, came Mary on a donkey (baby Jesus already born, hung in a sling from Mary’s shoulders) with Joseph alongside, and a few shepherds (real sheep!) and wise men (real camels!) following along behind.

They passed by follow by Santa, then a giant inflatable toy train and the aforementioned stunt-mice (no, I have no idea why either).

I found myself thinking “well, it’s nice that in a commercial Christmas parade there is a little room for Jesus, good on them.”  It’s almost incarnational, Jesus in the parade, passing by 10-15-20000 people, reminding them there is more to Christmas that gift-wrapped commercialism and tinsel-draped pine trees.

And then later, as I pondered some more I started to wonder if it was so good after all?

Perhaps its not so good that Jesus fits neatly into the parade between the presents, the santa, the dancing tree and the stunt-mice. Just another costumed actor in a mixed-message presentation of all that Christmas means in Australia.

For Christians of course, Jesus is the reason for the season. The main thing.  Santa, gifts, family etc, they come as secondary considerations (important, celebrated, fun, valued, but still secondary).

For our nation, as we move from being a kind-of-christian society to a mixed, multicultural, multi-ethnic, multi-religious, kind-of-secular state, it seemed to me that this Christmas parade was a bit of a metaphor for what’s going on.

A bit of everything, maybe no real connected, articulated meta-story being told?

And I wonder if the presence of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the animals, sheep and wise-men in this whole big mess raises some questions for the Christian church.

Does it (do we) just want to be one more dressed-up set of actors in the midst of a whole parade? A bit part in the whole confusing story of what it means to be Australian, human, created, community in the 21st century?  Any particular message we might have to share…does it just get lost in the mumbling?

Or is it more important in this time and place to stand out, to be distinctively different, sure and certain of what we claim to believe, who we claim to follow? Should we refuse to participate in the parade at all?

And if we do, does this sanitised, commercialised, feel-good image of the beautiful baby, silent-night, well-dressed shepherd thing kind of inoculate the world against any real power of the Jesus story?

For it is a scandal, this story. Here is the creator of the universe, this God who is all knowing, all powerful, come to life as a helpless, crying, poo-ing baby, spending his first night in an animal’s feed-trough to a teenaged mother and recently-contemplating-divorce father.

This child who would spend his life counter to every human expectation of the son of God, eschewing wealth, power, privilege, refusing to live into the expectations of those around him.

Who would claim time and again that true humanity stands with the powerless, heals the sick, hugs the unhuggable, loves the unlovable, frees the unfree-able, knows the unknowable.

This child-to-become-man whose unremarkable beginning and completely localised life, unknown more than 100 miles from his birth-place would spark generations of debate, discussion, passion, compassion, grace and controversy the world over.

Maybe after all, his place is here, easily-lost in the midst of this Christmas parade of options, one helpless baby in a sea of hundreds of singers, actors and dancers, unable to convey any message beyond love and total dependence.

Maybe it’s a reminder, that even if we forget sometimes, God is in all things, all times, all places. Sometimes easily missed, for sure, but there nonetheless.

In the midst of your Christmas, as you tip-toe between wrapping paper, torn-apart bon-bons, plates of half-eaten prawns, sleeping uncles, half-built Lego and squabbling children, may you notice the anonymous baby in the midst of the parade.

May you ponder his place in the drama of Christmas.

And his place in your life.

Merry Christmas.

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9 people who write

I have a few friends (and family) who write what I think are the most interesting things. You should go for a visit and see if they are your style. Here’s some of my favourites:

wednesday wonderings – gathering grace in the everyday:  Caroline has been living in Cambodia for years now, and just as she prepares to return to Australia, I discover this quite lovely, thoughtful (and thought-provoking) collection of stories and observations from her time there. I wish I had known of it sooner, and I hope Caroline continues to write with a kind of cross-cultural eye when she returns.

katie is travelling:  Katie is the kind of interesting, funny, bang-on writer I wish i was.  Mostly she writes stories here from the road (which might be anywhere in the world) and you will laugh and cry with her – guaranteed.  She’s also about to release her first book and I’ll be plugging it when it’s out and about.

matt guyatt golf:  really interesting insight into the life of a pro athlete. Last Sunday I watched on at the Australian PGA Championship as Matt’s day went pear shaped in full public view. 4am the next day he is on a plane to the next tournament – no time to lick wounds, recover or process.  Glamorous? Not so much.  Check in for Matt’s stories from life on tour.

passing phase: Tracey started writing almost as therapy while figuring out how to be mum to a pair of rambunctious twins (that’s my words from the outside, not Tracey’s). Passing Phase is growing as the boys grow and now explores all sorts of ideas. Topics like parenting and family, disadvantage, politics and education all feature regularly.  I like it most when Tracey rages. There’s nothing quite look a good, well written vent.

scott warner photography: Scott is awesome with words, but he’s building a new kind of way to share life with photos. Check out some stunning images from south east Queensland and beyond.

the kids inheritance: my folks are grey nomads, wandering around Australia in their caravan, spending my inheritance. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Mum is the writer and a growing photographer, stories filled with fascinating detail about all sorts of places that I might never visit.

weave and wonder: it’s kind of photoblog, meets writing blog, meets small business. Weave and Wonder is both Melissa’s child-focussed art project/business and a place where she connects art, colour, pattern and rhythms of life. Also a prolific and quite delightful instagrammer here if instagram is your style.

hold this space: Cheryl writes what I like to think of as “dispatches from the edge”.  From the edge of faith. From the edge of society. From places many of us don’t visit.  And she writes so poetically I can almost (almost) forget I’m being pushed and challenged by the experiences behind the words.

riley says:  Not only because I’m the proud dad of 11 y/old Riley, but because she writes funny and interesting stories and poems from her vivid imagination. Her ode to Tasmania’s incomparable Maria Island is a ripper.

I hope you take a few minutes to visit some or all of these. They’re fascinating sites in their own right, but written by people who I know to be truly what the pages present.