we are all wanderers

"The Family - that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts, ever quite wish to." Dodie Smith

Cultures are some of the greatest treasures in our world: food, clothing, monuments, traditions, history, humour, language and ways of thinking. 

Tis' truly fascinating and gives an enormous sense of belonging and patriotism.

Imagine living in a land of one sort of culture that doesn’t match the merger found in your own home, your school or your friends' homes. If culture plays a part in creating our identity, how frustrating it is to feel like you constantly don’t belong to any. When your home has two opposing cultures that don't blend quite tastefully, when you get driven in a car that passes streets of a culture you can’t fully relate to but still identify by and transport to a school of yet a completely foreign frame of mind to the country it sits in; your inner world can become quite restless and chaotic. All of these experiences become part of the process of forming your identity but may not noticeably hinder you as a young child when all your cares are about watching My Girl, playing dress up, collecting candy, climbing walls and digging in dirt. But when you grow older and enter into adulthood, you begin to formulate your ideas and ways of thinking.  You find yourself yet again trying to fit into a new culture; like those times you tried to fit into a new school or a new city. Suddenly you realise that the foundation you have been standing on is full of cracks. In fact, there is more space than ground.

Suddenly your understanding of “home” and the comfort you found within, is no longer. When your nationality is simply a legal form of identification but says nothing of who you really are and the country you used to call home requires you to have a visa, it affects you more than you’ll ever know. If your identity lies in your nationality, but you don’t feel at home in the place it represents, who are you?

If home is a state of mind rather than an actual physical place, then I have felt homeless for half of my life. Actually, I prefer to think of it as having lived like a gypsy. 

My sense of home was taken away in a whirlwind, without closure, all because of the consequences of my teenage drama. I may have been perceived as rebellious, but in all truthfulness I was just shy and insecure and for some reason I carried this tag of identity for much of my life. From a rushed decision we found ourselves eight hours away from home and then within weeks ended up in a completely different country. From then on, everything we had known that was consistent was gone. It all changed.
Looking back, it was the best thing that happened in a most unfortunate way. Whether it was meant to happen this way or God made it work out for me, I’ll never really know. But I am thankful to be alive, to have love and to have found home again even though there will always be a part of me that will always feel restless and out of place.

That sense of home, the kind we are lucky to have on earth, is now ever present in the man whose name I carry. Wherever he is, I call home. And of course, home is always found amongst family.  
But ultimately my home rests in a place even more unknown, guarded by the One who has captured my soul. 

I suppose we are all wanderers carrying history on our backs. The key is to build upon it and not get trampled underneath.

"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them." - Hebrews 11:13-16

why did we not die?

There was a day not long ago, where life, it changed, forever. It wasn’t a day like any other, however. Monday, the beginning of our second week in our abruptly changed new life: New school, new room, new people, new surroundings, from the dusty crowded city to the quiet star filled skies above the foothills of the Himalayas. Even the altitude was higher. Away from the only school I ever imagined being part of, merely two years shy of graduating. Who else knows high school is tough for teenagers? I got caught being in the wrong place with the wrong people and it cost me an unwanted new life, not to mention my poor sister’s too. Having a driver that tattle-tales when you stop bribing him isn’t ideal either. I’ve held this against him for years, but I know that God used him to get me out of an unhealthy situation. I was at the stage in life where I knew my life wasn’t heading in the right direction, but I had consciously made the decision that I would set my life straight after high school was over. I would be far away from my friends and classmates; none of them would have to know. It was genius.

Yet here I was, first day of my second week in my new school. Boarding School. Somehow we were expected to fit into the lives of all these kids that had grown up together, literally. They were like a close-knit family. And they were predominately white, while I had spent the last years of my life surrounded by Pakistani’s (Months later I would learn that most of them, who had grown up in Pakistan, were more like me than I initially thought). I quickly found out in my first week, that cheating wasn’t on the agenda. Who knew that this didn’t happen in all schools? You mean I’d actually have to study and do my own work? It still baffles me how I managed to graduate in the end. Cheating and lying had been such an important part of my life, until then. 

Coming back to my first day of my second week in my new school. The first week had been really emotionally draining and difficult. I woke up that Monday morning, begging my mother to stay home because I said I didn’t feel well. She was staying with us for a few weeks to help us adjust and the boarding part of school hadn’t officially started yet. The other students were with their own parents for the summer months. My sister and I basically had an entire floor to ourselves, which we needed considering the amount of clothes we brought with us. In the end I had to get up and go to class anyway. Since it rained the night before, I can recall that the air was really cool in the morning. Everything outside was still wet. This saved many of our lives that day. 

August 5, 2002

It was after our morning break, all the students had gone back inside their classrooms. My particular class was generally held outside on the benches just in front of the main school gates. As we were all walking towards the “outdoor” class our teacher motioned for us to go inside because the benches were still too wet. I remember joking around with someone moments before we suddenly heard a strange sound. Everyone stopped talking and looked at each other. “What was that? Oh must be pataka’s (firecrackers)” I can’t remember if this conversation was in our heads or if someone said this out-loud. Then the sound came back again, without hesitation we all knew. Someone yelled “Get down under the desk!” I’ll never understand how I managed to slide under the desk like a slippery slug in the speed of the Flash, I’m sure it was much too narrow. Hearts were racing, fear had gripped us, everything happened so quickly. After a few moments we got out from under the desks and crowded together in the corner of the room. I don't remember why this was a good idea. I squeezed onto someone so hard, I’m sure I was hurting them. All I remember chanting was, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God” and then I heard someone whisper, “Shhh they’re going to hear you.” In a moment of complete terror, for those first moments all you can think of is your own life and whether you’re still going to have one for much longer. Then as I started getting to grips with what was happening my thoughts wandered towards my sister and my mother. Where were they? What room? Were they shot? What if they’re outside? What if they’re dead? Then we heard someone yelling outside “Help me, I’ve been shot!” It was Mrs V, a mother. 
Within minutes someone came in and directed us to go to another room upstairs. I identified my sister in the line and grabbed hold of her instantly. She was alive, she was safe and she was with me. When we got down on the ground in the other room, I completely engulfed her in a tight embrace and would not let go the entire time. Now all I could fear for was my mother. Some of the students started singing a hymn and this brought a sense of God’s peace into the atmosphere. "H" was comforting "J" who was sitting next to us crying for her mother, Mrs V, who had been shot. She was ok. Miraculously she survived, as we later found out the gunmen had shot directly at her but the bullets just passed through her hair. There was just one bullet that ricochet off a wall and injured her hand. She was not the only one who had been protected or helped by angels. Angels that looked like Pakistani people who suddenly disappeared. Angels who helped someone climb over a wall to safety, angels dressed up as guards who waved and smiled at Mrs. V seconds before she got shot at, angels who prevented flimsy unlocked doors from being kicked open. God’s angels were with us that day in plain sight. In those excruciating minutes that we sat huddled on the ground waiting for the ordeal to end, praying they wouldn’t find us, I made a promise to God in fear of not knowing where I would go if I’d die. I vowed that if I lived I would recommit my life to Him.

From memory the gunmen were on campus for fifteen minutes, which felt like much longer. My mother was safe. Devastatingly there were some who lost their lives, one a mere passer by at the main gates where they entered. The same main gates where we would have been sitting in front of had it not rained the night before. Thankfully no children were injured. The situation could have ended much worse, if I can even say that.

Sure enough, I kept my promise and my life slowly began to change. From a destructive situation, God somehow brought forth good in my own life. But I can only write from my own perspective.

Now twelve years later, pain has struck the hearts in our beloved Pakistan. It makes me think of the experience that we had all those years ago. But this time gunmen came and ruthlessly killed 132 children inside their school. Children just like we were, when they attempted this in our school. I cannot help but wonder,

“Why did we not die?” 

enemies and demons

 "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit."
Proverbs 18: 21

We are our own worst enemy
I am my own demon
At times my self-talk is utterly degrading
Is yours?
But we would never dare speak that way to anyone else.
What no one else can hear, no one will know, right?

Oh but they do!
They can see it in your troubled brow
and in your battered stance.
As your shoulders slump into defeat;
you're tense
and the gaze of your eyes are steep.

Your face speaks.

It whimpers of the self abuse,
as does your whole demeanour.
Your heart is constantly kicked and bruised.

You don't feel like your original self any longer.
You allowed those words to tear your little dark corner into a galaxy
Completely transfixed
Controlling every thought and every move
Hypnotised and mesmerised.

You don't even fight it.

If only they could hear what you could hear
If only you could.

"At least if I were terminally ill, it would give me an excuse to be sitting at home all day"

"I don't talk the right way to have the friends I want"
"I wonder if there is anyone you could pay, to help you go in a nice pain-free way?"
"I'm not handsome enough, so I'll never get the opportunity"

"I know he shouldn't be with me, but I wouldn't survive without him"
"I feel like a waste of space"

"You're still too insecure"

"You literally have no skills"

"There is not one thing you are good at"

"You don't belong here, you will never fit in"

"You're boring"

"People only think you're pretty, but they don't want to talk to you"

"No one finds you interesting"

"When you smile it makes you look weak"

"Your voice is so annoying to listen to"
"I have nothing good to offer anybody"
"I'm never going to change"

(please note: these are not all mine)

I hope that doesn't sound familiar to you, but I fear that it may be an all too commonly conniving voice in our heads.  Like that little devil who sits cynically on your shoulder. 
Is your self talk a bully too sometimes?

Words are influential
They carry so much strength and can completely control a person:
Their behaviour, confidence and worth.
Words can leave you feeling courageous and brave
or they can leave you feeling like a total failure. 
Words are like a remote control.
But instead of simply directing you which way to go,
they push deeper.
Piercing into the root of your soul, right where your delicately framed identity is forming.
There are some words that will convict you wrongly,
yet they can leave you imprisoned within the cages set up in your mind.
Sometimes you don't even remember your own alibi.
Suddenly you find yourself doing time.

Thought-words are the most dangerous, most destructive and the most painful of weapons.
They attack quietly when you least expect it
Not obvious at all
Almost unthreatening.
They grow slowly but their roots travel far below the surface
Unseen for years
Festering until it's uncontainable
Ugly and suffocating

The danger comes worst when you somehow believe that those thoughts and words were not your choice. 
As though they're facts that leave you helpless.
When you are unaware of the chains, you are most at risk.

But there is another way, 

you can live free.

What thoughts will you give authority?

Evil finds its edge through secrecy,

Expose the dark days self-talk

In the light, name it for what it really is, "a cowardly liar"

then just shrug it off and be on His Way... 

search through the surface

"You have searched me, Lord, and you know me." 

Psalm 139:1

The importance of meaning and love in life...

What is life worth if we don't live for something beyond ourselves.

Is it really necessary to do so?

What's the big deal about needing to be known. Desiring for someone to be intensely interested in us, for searching our hearts and minds as if searching for treasure, always wanting more.

What is the relation between being heard and being loved. Or being intimately known and being loved.

Many of us believe that God wants to be known, searched and loved. He knows how much we need to know Him.

If it is His vision and desire for us to know Him deeply, then no wonder it is our strong desire to be known. The difference is that He is God and doesn't change or feel depleted if we aren't showing interest or taking the time to know Him more. He is beyond wholeness and completeness with or without us.

But in comparison, we can be utterly crushed and carry a sense of worthlessness when the ones we meet or keep company with seem disinterested. We associate feeling unlovable or unloved with the way people respond to us as individuals, not seeming to care what we have to say or for being indifferent to our thoughts and feelings. We wonder, "do they even care?"

Another way to feel valued is when the ones you love most want to advertise how amazing they think you are and like to share with the world how much they love you and can't stop "singing your praises".

Kind of like with God… to know Him and make Him known…

I wonder, is there a connection? After all, being created in His image, there's got to be some similarities.

Different but similar.

I sense that something has been lost and it’s leaving a trail of lonely souls. People have time to scroll through instagram for longer than they have time to give getting to know someone in an honest open real life conversation. People will follow or befriend you on social media and leave comments on photos more often than they’ll speak to you in person. They give the impression that they’re part of your life and care about you, but the reality of this actually outworking is far from the façade. The people that don’t know you physically but know you through instagram really do want to see the photos you put up or others put up of you but don’t always want to acknowledge you outside the cyber space in the real world. We all do this.

The truth about loneliness?

You need someone to help you out.

But people don’t generally know you sit alone at home a lot, because when you are in public you put a happy face on.

Not necessarily being fake because you genuinely are happy to be around people, maybe not always but often, especially if you’ve made the effort to go out.

The place to tell someone how you are truly feeling is one on one in private.

Unfortunately, you rarely find yourself in a position like this.

Also, if you want to make friends you don’t want to start off with your “sad story”.

But you really are sad.

You basically want to cry anytime someone asks you how you’re doing.

Or you’re angry, all the time.

I’ve been there before, have you?

I sincerely believe that every single human being has the desire to be known. The only way to know someone is to invest your time in conversation. In that time you give your focused attention, showing sincere interest in who they really are. People are beautiful, complicated, intricate, comprehensive and deep. There is history, purpose, quirky character traits, little unique details and different personality-isms that all contribute to a person’s individuality. All of us want to be discovered, hopefully not by everyone at the same level of depth, but certainly we want more than what is seen on the surface. The surface can be deceiving and easily misunderstood.

You cannot really know someone from a picture or a fancy quote. You may get an idea of who they are alluding to be but the only way, the only way, to truly know someone and give them value is to give them your time and your attention.

Do you find people interesting?

Do you want to value people like Jesus does?

Have you felt the wind today?

It's like I've been chasing the wind for so long,

that its brought me to a place, but suddenly gone very still

Now I'm just waiting, hoping for a mere hint of a breeze, to remind me of why I'm here.

I used to long to live in obedience to the One I follow

It felt so clear in a way. 

There was a vision, a dream 

Sometimes the wind is wild, so dramatic. Begging for attention.

To deny it exists would be plain ignorance, particularly in the midst of a storm. When its strength pulls trees from their roots and crushes branches into dust. We know that it is real.


Other times it's ever so still, so quiet. As if resting in the warmth of the sunshine or eavesdropping on all the people passing by. In this instance, it's almost like the wind has vanished. But do we deny its presence when it can't be obviously felt? Do we forget what the sound of the breeze through the leaves sounds like? Do we begin to doubt whether we've ever really felt annoyance from the way it tangled our hair into a nest?

 

So it is with the Almighty One. Our God, who ever so beautifully loves us and in my attempt at a hopeful interpretation, feels as if we're at a stage in our relationship that allows us to be in complete silence but still enjoy the company: knowing we're together. Does He really need to prove Himself every time I don't hear from Him. Is it not enough to simply know that He is here?

If you haven't obviously heard something from God in a while, but you're longing for some guidance, maybe try to see it as though He believes that we know Him better by now than to worry about whether He's abandoned "me". Can we try and rest in that knowledge? I honestly do know one place we can always go to find Him or hear from Him. If only I'd bother to make more of an effort. Relationships go both ways, why do we expect any different when it comes to God? Why aren't we more captivated by the stillness?




Truth is

I'm not captivated

I'm tired

I feel like I'm stuck, with no where to turn that feels right,

and the doors are closed to the ways I would choose if I could.

But if I meet you at a cafe, at church, or anywhere else public and social, I'll be sure to smile and tell you, "I'm fine." "I know it's only a season, it won't be like this forever". and I'm sure you will tell me, "you know God is in control, He loves you, He wouldn't have brought you this far, to leave you now." 

something along those lines, right?

Think about how good you are at diverting conversations off of you, pretending you're fine, or telling people exactly the things you know you need to believe for yourself, but really you can't.

So what makes you think that the people you encounter everyday are any different to you? 

Maybe what people tell us, in a weak attempt at seeming strong, isn't always the truth

Not many have the patience or time, to stop and wait, or to draw out more. Because if you wait long enough, you will see the truth. If you ask enough questions, you will hear a glimmer of the truth. 

But people are very quick to give cliches and helpful answers that sound great to those that are doing fine, but in reality are of no help to the people they're intended for. 

Have you ever felt like you got on a roller coaster too soon. Without any aid, you're not strapped in, sitting alone, you want to get off, but no one can hear you and all they are telling you is that it's going to be so fun. But no one has come to sit next to you or help you off if they can see you're not ready. 

That's what a cliche answer feels like.

Our stories are not the same, so they can't be compared

But I'd like to hear your story, because I like stories.

I honestly do believe that this isn't forever, I don't know how, but I know that deep down.

In moments like these, all we want is a friend. 

someone to laugh with

someone who will draw us out of our "self"

someone who will simply hang out with us

bring the best out 

enjoy the same things

make us feel like we are interesting

ask questions 

listen and wait - because everyone knows how hard it is to express our true self... and after all of that, after you have sat, loved, stayed and waited... THEN you can tell me how amazing you know Jesus is and remind me how much I love Him. Because I always do still love Him. That never changes. 

And out of everyone, He definitely understands the most. 

He asks all the right questions - the deep thinker ones

He definitely wins at the waiting game

Be a friend to others, like Jesus would be #newyearsresolution? #waystoendtheyearwell?


If we are made to be in relationship, why don't we try and make more of an effort to excel in what we are made for. 

In the end it's always about the people, the individual. 

Even though I write this, I honestly find it so hard to live out.

And yes your husband should be your best friend but he can't be your girlfriend. You'll need both, separately

my home, my chosen family

My Husband is my home.

So much rest found in those words.

I know that no matter what, home is never far away

I can always find comfort there where he is

We do things quite differently to each other

He takes his time and thinks things through quietly

He responds calmly and always considerately

He chooses love, over anything else

I have never experienced selfishness from him

He is truly, the greatest at this whole love thing

On our wedding day, after we'd said the "I do's" 

The most prevailing feeling I carried was, I feel safe and I feel at home

It was a deep sense of love, a kind I'd never felt before

It was calm and quiet 

Like waking up to an earth covered in snow, 

bright but ever so still

complete silence

The peaceful kind, not the eerie kind. 

There was no chaos

not confusion

no fear or doubt

only complete, simple, profound trust

It was freeing.

On the morning of, I woke insanely early, 

Way before the alarm clock even though I only slept a mere few hours

It was raining outside, no it was pouring outside

Regardless of unanswered prayers for clear skies, I felt joy and excitement.

Everything was funny to me that morning

I woke my sister up with a delightful song about how it was raining and I was getting married, while I was painting my own nails in bed. 

it was a slow morning for the first two hours and suddenly it became a whirlwind of hair, make-up, flowers, people, my dress is wrinkled, iron the dress, photographs, quickly get in the car, don't get the dress dirty in the rain, don't be late don't be late don't be late.

Sure enough we were late.

My dress was wrinkled again the moment I sat in the car

It rained basically the WHOLE day 

And even though it was insanely hot two days before, on OUR day it was really cold. Actually the cold helped my shoes fit better since I hadn't worn them in yet and it made sure we weren't too sweaty since that happens, even to the best of us, when we're nervous. Right?

Sure enough, just as everyone predicted, the day went by so quickly

I didn't notice the little details and I didn't care

I didn't even get to try all the dessert. Desert? No definitely dessert. 

In fact, I could barely move with fear of my sleeves falling off my shoulders

There was laughter, there were tears, no ugly crying thankfully. We still get people telling us how good the speeches were and how beautiful my dress was.

It was a day full of love and appreciation

Somehow underneath the fairy-lights and amidst the hum of conversation, there were small moments where I felt completely alone and a little sad. I'm not so good at small talk especially in a loud and crowded place and for some reason when you're a bride people aren't sure what to say to you except marriage and weddingy things and that can only go so far when there's a whole lot of people wanting to speak to you but aren't quite sure what to say. 

My main desire for our wedding day was for people to like the food, not get bored but enjoy being there and to experience a side of Jason and I that isn't generally so prevalent. 

Weddings do that. 

They bring out the best in a couple through the love that is felt, to seeing the families they grew up in and from hearing the speeches people give about them. 

Make-up helps too.

The sadness was simply because I knew that because our wedding day had finally come, so was the day approaching when my family and friends would have to leave again. When you have the most special niece in the world like I do, going even a day without seeing her face or hearing her voice is hard. Imagine a year, or more. 

In a way, weddings are no different to regular life as a whole, except for all the extra big smiles and dressed up people. There are moments of all sorts but the overall feeling you go away with is, "I am so thankful to have found this love". A love so deep and so wide, you can get lost in it and forget to appreciate everyday together because its so consistently in your face. 

But everyday I am thankful even though it's not always seen.

I have found the greatest man in the world who for some reason chose to love me.

Suddenly we became our own little family (that'll grow one day I'm sure). 

It really makes everything and anything else that happens more bearable and brings such greater meaning to life.

Family does that.

Love does that.

Family is love, real life messy love.

People always say, your husband or wife is the only family you get to choose.

Take that advice seriously! It's not about finding "the one" it's about finding someONE who you'll love and who will love you on your ugliest, worst days as if it's your most beautiful. It's about a love that continues to grow fuller and stronger. Each moment may not be beautiful or picturesque but they will build your life and create memories that you can look back and learn from. 

Slowly become the family you want for your children and for each other. 

Your family can create a better future for others.

When you get married you become a family in every sense of the word.

Let's make the future of FAMILY, brighter.

                                   

 i LOVE you