A tribute

He was a man who was ordinary, in the most extraordinary way.

He was a man in whose words I found refuge. In times of wilderness or joy, this mans very being spoke of something so much bigger. His life of ministry stretched behind him, long hard and not perfect - but even in the last months his plans and purposes, his steam and his passion never dulled. He spoke as if the world was not saved and he would do his best to touch, and speak and feel his way through the crowds of people that needed to know a loving Father.

He was a man whose words held the weight of a life lived in the presence of the Lord. Whose living room was a place of safety and open-ness and every word uttered spoke of a life lived in the throne room of God. He spoke of this Father with such passion, such depth, such compassion and such grace.

He was a man who was not just a minister, a follower of Jesus or my Poppa - He was a friend. A friend that listened, that spoke truth, that challenged and comforted and was forthcoming with his shortcomings. He was a friend who mulled over ministry and trials - who spoke insight and truth and passion and whose words were always seasoned with grace.

He was a man who gave a young girl like me, on her return to New Zealand an unexpected place of peace. And in a season of uncertainty, wilderness his very being, his welcome and enthusiasm brought a place to let the uneasy words rest, the experiences in ministry and life a place to be talked through and spoken into.
My homesick soul found solace and peace in his life - one which was spent on earth for people and for the Lord, but whose soul also longed for home. The home that was found in the eyes of his father.

He was a man whose life and death invites us to not just weep - but challenges us to keep going, to build upon all that he began, to press in deeper and know more clearly this God that he knew and speaks of. To love people, to break down the black and white and see grace in the grey.

He has been called home. He has been received home into the arms of his loving Father and dearest friend.
We mourn over the loss of this delightful soul.
But we ask that we be taken further.

The search for home

'I am calling you home' He whispered to me over and over again, ' I am calling you home.'

Home. A safe place, a place of fullness, a place in which the very reason I have been created is uncovered, where all those pieces, those things, longings and desires within me that don't make sense, that don't fit, those things that don't even have words, that are misunderstood all find a place to rest. 

Gillingham was my home. The place where I was called, my purpose, my place of satisfaction, my place that whispered things that set my heart alight, the place whose brokeness made parts of me come alive, the place of safety and knowledge of my call. 

But maybe there were aspects of Gillingham that spoke of a greater sense of being at home, maybe the people I met and the things that I saw pointed to a greater meaning of this concept of being at home. Maybe the things that made my heart come alive, the conversations that fitted, the people that knew me, knew those broken and whole pieces within me and embraced me - maybe they spoke of a larger and more maginificent meaning of the word 'home'

As I spent the last few days in England saying goodbye to people and places - there was a sense of leaving home behind, of being pulled away from those people and places that were home for me. 

There are pieces of me find home in people, in places, in situations, in conversations.  

As I came off the plane and saw my mum, I found aspects of home in her arms, in the familiarity, in the knowledge of being known and accepted. 

There are pieces of me find home in people, in places, in situations, in conversations.  

We feel at home with our closest friends, kindred spirits, whose conversations and cuddles bring something out in us that makes us feel like things are as they should be. 

We feel at home in the closeness of that one we truly love that makes our heart want to explode and in whose arms we feel the fullness of who we were meant to be. 

We feel at home when we look at the sea, the stars, when a child puts their hand in ours, when we sit with those we love, being fully known, and hear grace.

We find home in those people whose hearts sing the same tune as ours, when we walk the streets of somewhere we know we are meant to be. 

Maybe, just maybe, all these things speak of a bigger home - a home where we can be fully at rest and peace, a home where our hearts are known as they are and where everything in us feels alive and well. 

My heart is on the search for the wider meaning of being at home - wholly and fully at peace and rest. Wholly and fully working at something that makes my whole self come alive. That thing that brings out those bits within me that are otherwise hidden, that calls into being those things that are truly and magnificently me, that place where everything becomes clear, comes into line and my body can breathe a sigh of relief. Where the harshness and broken-ness of this world is gone.

He called me home, to Hamilton to begin my search for home. He has brought me back to where I first began. He led me here in search of a wider meaning of home. A wider search for purpose and calling. A deeper knowledge of what it means to have my home in him. It will be raw and dissatisfying. 

I catch glimpses of being home.

But there is still a feeling of homelessness. 

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” C.S Lewis

Maybe, just maybe, the glimpses of being home that I find in people, places and situations, where my heart is fully alive but fully at rest speak of a wider sense of being home - the being at home that can only happen when I am with Jesus - when I am fully at rest in a place where wholeness and fullness is possible, where goodbyes and sadness are no longer there, where my heart is at home and alive. Maybe, just maybe, heaven is what my heart longs for. 

Even Jesus speaks of having no place to lay his head. This tells me that in this world he had no home, he had no feeling of home - he felt he had no place to rest. Jesus even had the feeling of homelessness. We homeless lot are in good company.

But when he healed people, when he met with ordinary people, when he saw people come to fullness and wholeness, when he was having banter with his disciples, when he met with the Lord quietly on his own, poured out his heart to the father, there is no doubt in my mind that he would have felt or seen glimpses of being at home. But he would have seen glimpses of being at home in heaven, that peace that comes from seeing the peace that his father brought him, that perfectness of heaven - where broken-ness, turmoil, sadness and the uncomfortable will no longer exist.

Jesus is kind enough to give us glimpses of being at home, in the brokeness and harshness of this world.

We catch glimpses of being home.

But there is still a feeling of homelessness. 

But whilst on this earth the feeling of homelessness may be a lasting one, as I battle out what it means to have a home that is not of this earth, to sit in the uncomfortable place of no answers and long for home I long for the final homecoming, where Jesus will come and take me to a place where I will be at home, my body will be at rest, those glimpses of home we see in people and places will all join together and our brokeness will be made whole as we get to sit in the gloriousness of meeting Jesus in wholeness and fullness. Where He will wipe every tear from our eyes, where mourning will be no more and pain will cease. Where joy, peace and wholeness will reign.  

But even as I write, dissatisfaction rises within me. I dont want to have to wait to find home. I want to be able to feel at home here, to feel satisfied and for the longings of my heart to be met. Its easier that way. It's much easier than sitting with dissatisfaction.
I don't want the answer to be to sit and wait in the uncomfortable. 

And even as I write he whispers, 'I haven't called you to take the easy road.'
I hear this as truth. But as uncomfortable truth. 

I am always so hesitant to hear that whilst on this not so easy road, I will find home in the eyes of Jesus. My edges, my lack of answers, my dissatisfaction, my rough bits, my desires and longings, my need for safety and security will be put to rest as I sit with him and allow him to be home for me in a place that does not feel like home. 

He has told me this journey of home will be raw, dissatisfying and uncomfortable. But for now, I will take the glimpses, I will long for more, but I will thank him for the glimpses of a place and a time where my heart will be fully at home in Him. 
I will continue to wrestle, but I will take the glimpses.

As the rain poured down and I danced and I danced, He whispered to me 'Just let go.'
I knelt in my back garden, wet through, yet so very alive.

Subconciously over the year, I had led myself to believe that following Jesus was all about persecution, flogging, people hating, being misunderstood, and giving God the things that you really love in order for him to notice you and see you as worthy. So as I gave my clothes to charity shops, gave people far more time than I had, got up tired again and again to go and run myself ragged doing something for Jesus, I felt like I was achieving gold, that this was what Jesus wanted for me, that he desired works and sacrifice. As joy slipped away I began to feel that maybe all God wanted was workers, rather than friends.

And in the moments that I began to feel joy creeping in, I would shut it down. Being happy and enjoying life was for those who had time. I didn't.

In all honesty, I think that too often I had been giving God things, as if punishing myself, as if trying to be made worthy of his love, trying to earn this great privilege it was to follow Him. Here I was trying to push these things at Him saying 'please take them' and He had been there with his hands up in the air trying to show me that He wanted me to enjoy what He had given me. That He delights in me, as I delight in the things of this world that make me happy, that feed my heart. I had been giving out of a place of my own low self worth. I had been trying to earn a place in the kingdom, trying to push the things that I enjoyed onto Jesus.

Because He couldn't possibly want me to enjoy myself right?

Because the more terrible I felt, the less I had, the more holes I had in my clothes and downtrodden I was, the closer I was to Jesus, right?

Isn't this exactly what Jesus said we shouldn't do when speaking to the Pharisees?

'I desire mercy not sacrifice'
those words that hit the heart. 
MERCY, not sacrifice. 

He cares far more about our hearts, about us, about how we treat people, than what we can give him. The striving, the giving, the self denial means nothing. If I lived my life on earth, delighting in him, traveling and being engulfed in His beauty, I would still get to heaven and he would say 'good job' give me a fist pump and discuss with me the things that I loved about him and He loved about me.

Too many Christians are so sad. So devoid of joy. I speak to people and there is no life in their eyes, there is no joy in their hearts. If we are following this incredible man called Jesus, if we know Him, know His heart,then surely we would know that he is calling us to a life of indescribable joy - of delighting in the small things. He delights in us, whilst we delight in the desires of our heart. 

My Jesus threw parties. He hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes who wouldn't have been the dullest of bunch. He turned water into wine, he made humans -a colourful bunch. He designed us to love things, he designed our hearts to get joy from the small and simple. He loves it when we laugh, he loves it when we hangout with friends that 'get us' and he loves it when we are happy. He was a man that was excitable, playful, mischevious and full of joy. He is so far from dull.

Those things that make your heart skip, those things that fill your soul with indescribable bubbling over joy, those things that make you stop and wonder, those seemingly unproductive, frivolous activities that others see as silly. That is the place where God sows his seed of joy and as we do things that we love, as we enjoy ourselves, it is watered and grows.

He has been teaching me joy. Quiet joy. Bubbling over joy that makes me throw my head back and laugh heartily. The joy that makes me go out and dance in the rain. The joy that makes me dance in the kitchen.

Drink deep of His joy and let all else flow from that.

There is something in me that thinks we just all need to not be so serious.

Because as we let go,allow ourselves to be filled with joy, we glorify God. 
Someone once said to me that to be filled with joy, to take hold of it is the bravest thing we can do.
You are allowed to be happy. In fact, we are called to be full of joy.

This world needs joy. And I know the man who gives it. Jesus. The joy that doesn't leave you empty, the joy that fills rather than takes, the joy that will still be there in the morning, the joy that cuts through despair. The joy that fills with hope, that doesn't disappoint. 

Please don't hear me say that you can't be hurting, broken and lost. I am not saying that at all. In fact, God draws so close to us in those moments and he heals and restores us. But His promise is this:

'He will provide for all those who grieve..
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, 
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a Spirit of despair.'
Isaiah 61:3

He has put a seed of joy in me, and as I do things that I love, that feed my soul, those frivolous and seemingly unproductive things of life; talking to strangers, writing, taking endless photos, picking flowers, listening to a song, baking, drinking copious amounts of tea, dancing, The seed of joy grows and grows. And as I do these things I can feel His delight as he sees me doing what I love.

Don't see it as something else on your list that you can tick off, or that you are seemingly failing at. He gives it to us as we step out and enjoy ourselves. As we find what we love to do, what feeds our soul and stirs us to do more. As we DWELL in the one that brings us joy, we will find eternal pleasure.
'You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy, at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore'
Psalm 16:11 

Be brave and take hold of joy.
As the rain poured down and I danced and I danced, He whispered to me 'Just let go.'

Home.

So I've been thinking. Jesus is often so misunderstood. I think He must look at us sometimes and beg us to truly know him, to spend time with him and ask him what he thinks. Now I'm not saying I am an expert. No way. But I do know Him. And He knows me. And he has been real faithful to reveal a few things to me about who he is. I am always so blown away. SO much grace.

The Jesus I know is a man who had a rugged bunch of followers. The broken, the sick, the prostitutes, the doubters, the addicts, the ones cast out by society, the adulterers, the depressives, those with mess.
These were the ones that truly recognised who he was. These were the ones he made time for, the ones he saw worthy of being with. These were the ones that KNEW that in his presence they could be free, they could be healed. They were the ones who knew they needed his grace, his healing touch, who knew he was the only one that truly saw their hearts, saw their worth, saw past their pasts, their broken lives and saw the gems that were inside them. These were the ones crazy enough to take him at his word.

I love this quote by Charles Spurgeon
'But yonder are the men we seek for. Forlorn, and lost, full of evil, and self-condemned, you are the characters we seek. You that feel as if you were possessed with evil spirits, and you that are leprous with sin, you are the persons in whom Jesus will find ample room and verge enough for the display of his holy skill. Of you I might say, as he once said of the man born blind: you are here that the works of God may be manifest in you. You, with your guilt and your depravity, you furnish the empty vessels into which his grace may be poured, the sick souls upon whom he may display his matchless power to bless and save.'

A few months ago, I was facing some pretty broken pieces inside of myself. I was stuck in the mud, in a whole heap of stuff that made me feel so unworthy and broken. Pieces that made me think that Jesus would never have me, would never give me the time of day, pieces that I wanted to hide from him in shame and guilt. But in that time, with tear stained face, he came in his cleanliness and began to dig me out of the mud. With love in his eyes, and his robe getting messier and messier, he continued begging and pleading with me to know how much He wanted me, in my broken and dirty state. His grace is enough.

Jesus touched the leper, he knelt down beside the adulterer, he spoke to the Prostitute, he ate with the tax collectors. He is the one who tells the story of the son who left home, having stolen his Fathers money and off to a place where he frittered it all away on sex, drugs and alcohol. When the money was gone he began to remember all the love and acceptance he had at home, but he felt far too unworthy to return. He slowly began to walk home, hoping his Father would take him back. His sandals worn through, his clothes dirty and smelly and no money. As soon as the Father saw his son coming from afar he ran to meet him, clasped him close to his chest and announced to the town his Son had come home. The party was on. In the Sons broken-ness and mess, the Father took him back with great love.  Jesus is the Father who saw the broken, sees our hearts and calls us worthy.

I know a Jesus who is calling His prodigal sons to return. The ones who have been hurt, turned away by people, used and abused, messed up, the suicidal, the prostitutes, the addicts. We are the leper, the prostitute, the young mum, the depressive, the desperate, the broken. WE are those. We are all messy. When my brokenness becomes too much for me, HE is the one who encourages, heals and restores. He brings freedom to the bound up.

He looks past that, into our hearts and sees the real worth. With love in his eyes he touches us right where the pain is too much, where we feel our dirtiest or our most desperate and says 'It's enough! Youve dealt with this for too long. I am all you need.'
He is the Jesus that sees us tearstained and calls us to Him. He begs us to come home, to see what he has to offer - wholeness and fullness - to let Him show us our true worth, to see ourselves as he sees us.

'YOU whom the church has rejected, you whom have been spat out by religion, you whom have voices in your head and hardness or heart. You who are condemned and live life in the dark; YOU are whom God will use.You are whom God will pour himself out on to be used for his glory.You will be full, you will again be joyful, you whom society has given up on..You are whom God will use. You who have had the life sucked out of you and that feel as if you are on the bottom of the heap. YOU are who Chist spends his time with. You are who He is calling to be part of a church that is unlike any other.'

I truly believe that God is calling people to him that would never have believed that he had time for them, he is calling people that have been disillusioned by church, who have been hurt by people, who are the ones who make people feel uncomfortable with their questioning, the broken, the ones society has given up on to come to know Him. The real Him. The Jesus who heals and restores. The Jesus who gives LIFE to those who feel like death. The ones that would never have given 'religion' a chance, but when faced with the reality of Jesus, will rise up and begin to do church like no other. Broken, messy church.
Church where the music is loud and raucous, with tear stained faces people meet with Jesus. The addict and the prostitute stand in the presence of God, knowing that they are clean in his eyes, that they are of the same worth of those around. Where the air smells of alcohol, where the carpet is messy and the broken are made to feel at home. Where the Prodigal Sons are welcomed into the arms of Jesus - tear stained, messy, broke and so unworthy. Where people are free to be them in the knowledge and grace that Jesus sees them and welcomes them home.

His grace is enough. The ordinary everyday Jesus.
Looks into OUR hearts and when all we see is darkness HE sees real worth.
He is calling us home to Him.

hope.

There is a community.  It consists of a few dirty streets, terraced housing and youth on every corner. Rising out of the small patches of grass and the broken cobbles is rows upon rows of people stacked high in council flats. People, real people, with desperate stories of life not turning out how they expected, living amongst the cracked paint and the closed doors tarnished with the brush of hopelessness. But there is hope. Look beyond these flats, look deeper, scratch the surface, meet the people and there you will see the beginnings of the kingdom. There you will begin to see not just the stories, not just the labels, but the individuals.

His skin was olive and in his hands he held a shiny beer can. Not unusual for 3pm on a Wednesday afternoon. His sunglasses covered any emotion that could have been playing in his eyes. His five year old son, with unruly black hair and a mischevious smile playing on his lips, raced through the area around the football cage. As I sat with him, I wondered how he had gotten the scar that spanned his face, but I was more interested in what he had to say. As he took a sip from his can he began to chat about his ex partner, his struggle with his son, how hard the last years had been but how he was just getting his life back on track. With genuine interest he reciprocated the friendly questioning and I began to share how I came to be in Gillingham. Such a blessing to enter into these peoples lives. As he greeted everyone by name that passed by and began to tell some of the youth that he used to drink in the pub with their dads I began to realise his roots here were deep and when life caved in, he came back to what he knew, Gillingham. This town. He began to tell me of how his ex-partner had been a 'bible basher Christian type' and when I mentioned that I also was 'one of those' he replied with respect.

As the conversation moved on to normal day to day musings, and I began to soak in the surroundings from the bench I was on, I was hit with the realisation that I was catching glimpses of Gods kingdom right where I was. One blink and I would have missed it, earthly eyes and I would have just seen community kids playing football and a man drinking beer on a bench. But there were people, meeting together, talking, sharing life and Jesus, being open to opportunities in the dismal surroundings. And joy began to surge in my heart. The kids, scruffily dressed, playing football but with positive words, a sense of community. And in my heart I knew that Jesus was there, this place was soaked in Him, and as the kids came over and chatted there was no doubt in my mind that there is HOPE, that these kids will know truth and be brought up in the knowledge they are worthwhile. In earthly terms, this stuff is a pittance. But in heavenly terms, seeing these things with fresh eyes, huge ground for the Kingdom was taking place. Walking past, it could have just been any old bunch of youth on any given day, but there was far more. God was there in our midst, oceans of HOPE flowing and glimpses of heaven on earth were everywhere. This is what my heaven will look like. What an honour.

There is always hope. Oceans of it. No one or nothing is EVER completely consumed. There is never anything, no matter how dismal or ugly, that is void of this little word. HOPE.
It's a tough one. Seeing hope where there, at first glimpse, seems to be nothing. defying everyone esle's thoughts and ideas, and REFUSING to let hopelessness consume people and places. I refuse to believe that people are past the point of it and that there is nothing more. There is always hope.
When everything, taken at face value, seems to scream despair just scratch the surface, go deeper, meet the people and you will come to believe that there is glimpses of hope, glimpses of the kingdom in places that people who don't have the eyes to see, simply miss.
 I desire to fix my eyes on the unseen. HOPE. The things that God is doing in these areas. The glimpses of the kingdom that, once your eyes are opened to it, appear. The conversations seasoned with words of truth, the stories of people that have had heartache and are broken, but the joy that rises in the heart when a community begins to move, when a community begins to see Jesus, starts to capture the vision. In this place there is no room for hopelessness. It has been replaced by hope.
Praise God.

yes please. amen.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

oh, Gillingham.

These last weeks have sped by. I am unsure how this has happened, or where they have gone, all I know is it's been 6 months since I left the home country and the adventure is still going on. I am STILL so blessed to be in Gillingham. I was running the streets today (yes, this occasionally does happen) and as I took in my surroundings, it hit me that I was really truly in Gillingham, the town I have longed for. Now, this may seem unusual due to the length of time I have already been here but sometimes it just happens and I get this overwhelming, and sometimes surreal, sense of joy and realisation that I am ACTUALLY here. Truly AMAZING. I am so blessed to be here, FREE, not tied down to anything, but just able to live life, listen to God and just BE in this town. And then there are times when I am privileged enough to capture glimpses of the bigger picture, the workings of Jesus in me and in those around me.

Oh, the joy is overwhelming. Each week is different, and this is what I love. It blows my mind that I can live with an amazing family, work with these kids in Gillingham, play football with them and be welcomed into their communities, then the next week I am mooching around Europe with the amigo, Amie. So many blessings. So much thankfulness. INCREDIBLE. 

The family I live with are amazing. Their love and acceptance of people and the sense of community they develop in their house is mind blowing. It's such an atmosphere of support and joy and the 4 year old, Sophie, never ceases to come out with hilarious statements. Today we had 'slinky' championships, she chopped off a clump of her own hair at the dinner table and on other occasions has picketed outside my bedroom door singing songs until I emerge. The youngest, Ellie, not only has hair that sticks up vertically on her head, but has just turned one and said her first word 'A-men.' SO CUTE. Our house is currently being over run by myriads of tea-drinking builders, whilst the loft is converted into a BEAUTIFUL room for yours truly to live in whilst in Gillingham. It truly is a dream. The walls are sloped and there are windows either side that look out across the whole of Gillingham. I am ever so excited to move in there. 

In other news, I feel for the moment that it's the best thing to volunteer for GYFC 3 days. As hard as this is, because I LOVE the kids and this means I am missing out on one evening drop-in, I feel it's what is needed for this season. This means I now have two days opened up to just BE in Gillingham, or pursue other things that feed my soul, or give back to this place. SO exciting. And so blessed to just be able to do this. 

One thing that never fails to feed my soul is a visit to the big smoke, London. The hustle and bustle, the people watching potential and the feeling that anything could happen. Friday midday I headed off with high expectations of the day that was stretched out before me and the hopes of meeting with old friends. As soon as I leave the train at Victoria Station, the sense of being so small in such a big city is upon me. I spent the afternoon lunching with friends, Mike and Jazz. Then headed off to tackle the beast that is London transport, in hopes of arriving at Putney. A friend of mine, Anna, from New Zealand was waiting for me, and it was SO good to get a small taste of home, chat to someone with background and to hear of her adventures in London. Then off to an amazing bar, Grand Union to meet some of her friends. Not only was the floral wallpaper and old paintings to my utter delight, but the company was amazing, and I left that place feeling so restored and my soul well fed. 

Saturday morning, I did something I have been wanting to do for so long. In Chatham, the next town over from Gillingham, there is an AMAZING charity that is based in a church called 'Caring Hands in the Community.' It was started 9 years ago, and set out to meet the needs of the Gillingham Homeless Community. It's such a huge problem over here and is truly heartbreaking. They provide food, tea, showers, addiction and counselling services and seek to speak the truth of Jesus into these peoples lives. It is INCREDIBLE. Myself and a few from the discipleship group volunteered at this amazing place for a day. My heart was so at home here, the people that came in, the normality of it all and just the complete and the heart behind the project was amazing. Practically meeting their needs in every way possible. Man, Jesus was so there. I still get so overwhelmed with the need in this place, walking past people shouting in the streets, seeing people walking down the street with a can of beer at 9am, chatting to people and hearing their stories and then seeing the number of people in need of help. But God is SO big and so good and there is nothing in me that doubts he can do amazing things, and transform this place. One person at a time. All I gotta do is have hope. 

7 days to go, before I head off to Europe to see the lovely Amie Sutherland. So excited. News to come.

I cannot wait for her to see the place I love. And then bring stories home to share with you all. 

Amazing.

long time no see.

I have been neglecting this blog slightly. Every time I attempt to write anything I get frustrated with trying to put words to things that seem impossible to describe, and then muddle through my vocabulary trying to find sentences to do justice to the people that I have met. And it all seems so irrelevant, because to be honest, things that are on my heart truly can't be described with just words. It has to be felt, walked, you have to be immersed in it, and breathe it in. And often, I even can't really figure it out myself.

Today I took myself for a walk down the high street of Gillingham. This town truly makes my heart sing with joy. And as I walked through the hoards of people, listened to two men playing the violin and guitar on the pavement, breathed in the cool air, I realized there is nowhere that I would have rather been in that moment. The stalls that overflow with cheap and tacky toys, the fresh baked buns and treats on the stalls, the odd reggae tent that sells Bob Marley inspired memorabilia and the mix of people and accents truly hit me as just right. And it made me think that I am possibly the most blessed person in the whole world. I am able to be here, doing what I love, being in the mix of Gillingham life and pretty much free to do anything, with no attachments and no ties. What a blessing. I am here for such a time as this. So I sauntered down the chewing gum filled pavements, with hope in my heart and a deep satisfaction and contentment with where I am and how I got here.

altars of thankfulness.

So, sometimes I think I just need to remind myself actually how good God has been to me.

There is such a temptation to lose perspective and become so bound by only what I can humanly do, without actually seeing the bigger picture of what God has already done and the promise of what he will do.
I am reminded of a sermon I once heard. Whenever Abraham moved anywhere, he built an altar and praised God for everything that he had done for him. Not only this but he revisited them, and remembered all the amazing things and how good God had been over his life.
I need to start, metaphorically, building altars of thankfulness and NEVER lose sight of what he's doing right now and praising him for how he brought me to this point in the first place.

God is, and will continue to be, so good to me.
I just need to keep remembering that so I don't lose sight of the big picture.
Altars of thankfulness will be appearing all over Gillingham.

these days.

It has truly been such a mix over the last few weeks. I guess it wouldn't be life without the good and the bad. But in it all I still know without a doubt I am living the dream and that through it all I am here. And it is where I am meant to be. With the Christmas festivities nearly over, there is so much that has happened. Where to begin?
There is so much festive spirit over here. I am unsure whether it's the weather, the large majority of terraced housing that all seem to be donned with copious amount of christmas lights, or whether it is the amount of festive activities I have been involved in, but Christmas has been here for weeks. It started with the gingerbread house making extravaganza. The blue prints were drawn by Alfie Prankard (age 6) and then the building began. I am unsure whether more sweets ended up on the house or in his belly. But believe me, it was truly epic.

Then there has been the Christmas parties for all 3 of our drop ins. For our 3rd Ave drop in we ended up having a full on sit down Christmas meal, which involved turkey being spat everywhere, party poppers being set off in other kids eyes, and during the part where we try to tell them about Jesus, the complete opposite of silence. Mayhem but absolute quality.
The Christmas party at our Skinner street drop in was amazing. After the games and the festive food, we had planned and pre-warned them, that we would be doing a little Jesus talk. Just before it was about to happen at least five more kids mooched in, and although there were a large amount of inappropriate comments and banter throughout the chat (which I have become immune to) I am so sure that the majority of those kids heard that Jesus loved them. TRULY AMAZING. Then there was our last football session for the year. And the ones that weren't there, were at the old folks home singing them Christmas Carols. SO amazing. Seriously, the relationships we are building with these kids, and the way Jesus is slowly but surely working in them is incredible. It gets me so excited to know that, if they aren't getting positive words or love from anywhere else, that they are getting it from us and in turn seeing Jesus. Some of the changes in the kids are so noticeable. And there is so much more to come. Bring on next year. The beauty of Gillingham, is that although we have closed our drop-ins for Christmas, the kids are still around and we are still able to see them and chat to them. So good.

However, homesickness is something I would love to live without. I know it as a mixed up, messy feeling that on the odd occasion, threatens to overwhelm every area of my life in Gillingham.  God has been so good through this though. And even in my moments of doubt and uncertainty, the only place I have felt peace and calm is in our 133 drop in centre. I like to think this is God's way of telling me this is where I am meant to be. And it's been a huge learning thing. God has shown me that sometimes the best way to get rid of your own issues, is to focus on serving others, because through this you begin to see the bigger picture. And realise that being here is a blessing. THIS IS MY HOME FOR NOW. And I am truly blessed to be here. TRULY. The people, the kids, my friends and my church are all amazing. Each day here is truly a privilege.

Then there were my three days of Christmas. Being the token foreigner, I was so lucky to be shared around the church over the festive season. Christmas eve was with the Prankards, the family I lived with when I was here for my gap year. This family is truly AMAZING and have adopted me as their own. Blessed. Two year old Matilda and older brother Alfie greeted me at the door with huge cuddles and excitement. Then there was the usual winding them up with piggy backs, tickle fights and the like, Christmas lunch, copious amounts of tea and the unwrapping of presents. Followed by large amounts of carol singing and mulled apple juice at the Mauritz family. Then onto the Christmas eve service at church. This was TRULY beautiful. Imagine an old church with high ceilings and stained glass windows, with all the lights off and only lit with candles that each person in the congregation held whilst the echoes of carols filled the room. Possibly one of the most beautiful services ever. And then what English Christmas eve could be complete without a visit to the local pub? Yes, I like to think I have slotted in quite nicely.
The Barge is a favourite pub of ours in Gillingham.  Tim, the pub owner, is definitely a favourite of mine also. On this particular night he was wearing a hawaiian shirt and shorts and still sporting his white beard. He has this amazing way in which he knows everyone who comes into The Barge and greets them all, asking how they are and making jokes with each one. His son is still in school, but finds himself at home amongst the pub goers, and has become a regular in our card games on some evenings. He owns snakes and reptiles and keeps them in cages, and regularly tells of his want to collect even more. This Christmas eve, I managed to handle the snake, just casually, and have a bearded dragon clasp onto my denim jacket for a good 5 minutes. Only in Gillingham. Also, I debuted my pool skills, which just so happen to be as good as my football ones. oh dear.
Christmas day was spent with the lovely Guards and the Coopers. A day full of festivities, dancing and present opening. I am so lucky that I have people over here that love me. Then boxing day with my dear friend Ellie and her family. More food, presents and good times.
My oh my. Longest Christmas I have had in my life. It just keeps going.

Yesterday was the first day in ages I have actually stopped. And just let myself be. A woodland walk was the order of the day, with a packed picnic and some great company we set off to explore 46 acres of pleasant countryside (so it said on the sign). This was AMAZING,  and full of splashing in puddles in my gumboots, running down mudhills, spotting squirrels, drinking flasks of tea and just generally enjoying the fresh air. I think this needs to be a more regular occurence. I definitely miss countryside.

Tomorrow I head off to stay in a log cabin in Wales to see the new year in. The pictures show beautiful log cabins covered in snow in the midst of woods, but the forecast is mainly for rain. I am so looking forward to exploring and just being away. No matter what the weather. When will I ever stay in a log cabin again?! amazing. I love how these things just come to me. SO GOOD.

I love new years. the excitement, the hope, the anticipation and the unknown of what could and will happen in the 365 days to follow. I will definitely be writing a list of things that need to be done and accomplished in the new year. A whole fresh year spread before me.
See you in 2012 amigos.

Peter.

London at Christmas is manic. But truly amazing. I took a solo trip there a few weeks ago. I boarded a train after church one day and just went. Not only was the people watching amazing, but the atmosphere, the crisp winter air, and the lights that littered every street was truly a beauty. Covent Garden welcomed me with crowds of people watching street performers on the cobbled paths, a huge Christmas tree dotted with lights right in the centre, and the anticipation and excitement of the hustle and bustle that is London. I could literally just wander for hours, getting lost in the crowds and through the streets and feeling so tiny in the hugeness of it all. The train journey back to Gillingham was an interesting one. As my eyes threatened to close and drift off to sleep, the man opposite me answered his phone. After a chat with a friend, his attention trailed over to me, and with a bit of intrigue he proceeded to ask me as to why I was here and what I was doing. It's always the accent. After small talk, he proclaimed that he didn't believe in Jesus after everything that had happened to him in his life. As the train was approaching Gillingham station I promised to pray, to which he replied 'there's no need.' He offered his number in a genuinely friendly way and said that if I was ever in London and wanted to chat he would be free, 'the name's Peter' he gruffly said, followed with, 'I promise you, I will most likely be the most interesting person that you will ever listen to.' As I left the train, my mind boggled. I am so sure, even to this moment, that God was in that. Interesting, yet uncertain what it was all about. However, Peter is most definitely in my prayers. I was tired, and wonder whether I truly grabbed the opportunity God gave me in that train. I wonder whether I will ever take him up on the offer of a chat in London. I wonder if we will cross paths again. Thank goodness for God's grace and his presence in every situation. It is truly enough to cover my tiredness and lack of eloquence. Thank God.

interesting strangers.

I am unsure whether it is the fact I'm foreign, whether it's a change in me or my attitude, or whether English people are just friendlier, but it seems as if I have met far more people in unusual situations, than I ever did when I was back home. Let's just say that my interest and intrigue in other people, complete strangers even, has far from died down. If anything, being in another country has fueled this fascination, and I find myself in conversations with people that once I would have shied away from, finding out about their lives and being drawn in by different aspects of them. So bear with me as I recall several complete strangers, that I may never see again, but that with one short exchange of words, made me feel as if I had been let in on a small part of their lives. There's this part in me that is realising that everyone has a story if you just stop to listen. There is so much to be learnt and there is no doubt in my mind that God is amongst every meeting.

Walking up from the high street, my friend Becca and I met an old man carrying a huge plank of wood, and in the gale force wind it seemed to be acting as some kind of sail threatening to take him off into the sky. After his polite refusal of our offer to carry the load for him (involving some kind of over the top banter about me having huge muscles, so typical) we ended up walking with him in case he indeed ended up being blown across half of Gillingham. He was a man of 74, hoping to reach the age of 104 with a wirey white beard and a bony frail body, swamped by clothes that seemed almost giant in comparison. He had a cheery disposition and wittered away about how he was renovating a house in London, explaining that Gillingham was the cheapest place to get it. On hearing my accent he went onto the subject of my home country and people he knew there. Then before we knew it, we had to part ways. Although some would say I gained nothing from that conversation, I feel it was a privilege.

There is a man we have been hoping to see again in the pub. He is thin and wiry with a wrinkled and weathered face, as if he has had all that life offered. A pint glass is always never far from his hand. A conversation with him never fails to bring up religion, the 'forces' at work in this world, and challenges the very being and heart behind my faith. Having not seen him since April last year, and thinking it was a one time meeting, he popped up again at the pub last weekend. Conversation was once again struck up, and the questions of how and why I came back were thrown at me. As I talked, and sat and listened to him, I realised how little about life, the world and God I actually knew. And what a freeing feeling this was. That even though I know nothing, I can still be used, I am still over here for a purpose and that I am being worked on, sown into with every minute of the day. These coincidences of meeting people more than once, getting involved in their lives, sounds simple, but I know there is far more to it than coincidence. I'm pretty sure it's Jesus. I don't really know the reason, but i'm just going to roll with it and see where it goes.

It is seriously by God's grace I am in Gillingham. He has brought me from nothing, and promises to use me, work in me for HIS glory. I am always reminded of where I have come from, those two years where I thought I would never get back here. But his timing is perfect and he has brought me here for such a time as this. I have been waiting for the big event, the big voice telling me what I should be doing, what project or event God wants me to get stuck into. But maybe it's SIMPLE. Maybe, this is it. Being open to meeting strangers, getting involved in their lives and living a life of love as a testament to who Jesus is in me. Just maybe I have been looking for something BIG, when in reality it is small. We will see.

I was at a soup kitchen at one of the churches last week. And there was this little old lady. Her name is Vera and she is known for her constant prayer. Her face literally shone, as she chatted to me about how good God is and her passion to see God work. Her stories of answered prayer and her encouragement to keep on was amazing. She wasn't alot to look at, with a small hobble in her step, but she was fierce, and her heart is so steeped in Jesus. There was another lady also, that I sat and watched. Her gray hair was pulled back and her glasses sat on her little round nose. As I watched her, she was chatting to an unkempt woman who was hurriedly eating the soup in front of her, and divulging parts of her tragic story. The little lady from the church had her eyes fill with tears, as she hugged her goodbye and a promise of prayer was exchanged. I only hope that when I am older, I will care this much, I will still have my heart broken for the people Jesus wants. These ladies of over 60 are doing far more than I am. God is still using them, no matter of age or ability. So inspiring. And such a challenge.

My adventure is just beginning and I have WILD HOPE that there is far more to come. More than I could ever dream right now. More than I could humanly do on my own. May I never forget all the small things God does each day, and all the people he brings in my path.

oh, saint nick.

So the festive season is upon Gillingham. The air is getting cold, and the hope of snow is getting ever greater. As much as I don't enjoy winter, there is something truly AMAZING about the crisp air, kicking the leaves on the pavement as I walk everywhere, and being able to don the puffy coat that makes me look like a marshmallow. Or that I've eaten a million marshmallows. perfect.

I've been getting rather into the Christmas spirit this weekend. Laurie and Dave put up the Christmas tree, with my expert decorating assistance. Then this was quickly followed with an outing to a St. Nicholas Party. The Dutch celebrate St. Nicholas day as part of Christmas where basically an old Bishop with a beard, slightly resembling that of Santa, leaves sweets in your shoes if you leave them out for him to fill. After knocking on the door, taking my shoes off, labeling them with my name so St. Nick knew which were mine, 4 year old Sophie burst out with such joy, 'It's not really Saint Nicholas Day but he just MIGHT come.' She is truly gorgeous. I am very glad the families in my home group have such cute kids. And SO nice to have families to be with when mine are quite a way away. Blessing.
Then today, 6 year old Alfie, Martha and I undertook the huge feat of constructing a gingerbread house, complete with a snowman in the garden and a pretzel fence. It was a hugely anticipated occasion, with Alfie having drawn blue prints weeks in advance and having suggested possible sweets for each element of the house. SO CUTE. And such a success. With every added sweet he would go for a high five and holler different words of encouragement. A Sunday afternoon well spent.

The past few weeks have been a mix. The drop ins have been SO good. It seems like there are a couple of new groups of kids that have started coming into our evening ones. And it's so good to just be able to chat to them, make them cups of tea (the art of which I'm perfecting) and just be there. EVERYTIME I am chatting to one of the youth, there is NO doubt in my mind that this is where I am meant to be. There have been some conversations, and some really cool moments that have truly blown my mind at how God has totally just been there and been directing it the whole way. What I love with these kids is it's like a journey. We totally get to just be involved throughout the weeks and months. And for some reason they totally open up to us. Such a privilege and an honor to be such a tiny part of their lives and be able to do the little we can, love them and just live in a way that is so open to them seeing Jesus in us and through us. It blows my mind daily that I can do this and call it work. These youth and this town certainly have my heart.

HIGHLIGHTS. Walking home and seeing real live foxes running across the roads. so exciting.    Sunday lunch at the Prankards. Plucking up the courage to introduce myself to people. Going to Crawley for a new YFC centre opening, hearing the dream and the vision of the place and seeing the hope for a future for those youth. Getting the opportunity to chat to one of our drop in boys who doesn't go to school but uses a lot of drugs, and him telling me he really wants to become a leader and use his influence for good and not for bad anymore. Taking the time to actually chat to people and get totally inspired and overwhelmed by their lives and what they have been through. Another goal in football. AMAZING. Too many highlights to list.

I am filled with this mix of missing home and people, but also am so aware that I'm living the dream here in Gillingham. I'm slowly learning to simply trust and be obedient. Such a simple lesson, but sometimes it has to be learnt over and over. Thank goodness Jesus is patient.
Bring on the snow.

the weekend.

It has been a week since moving in with Dave and Laurie, and 4 weeks since leaving New Zealand. Dave works in a young offenders prison as a warden and Laurie is an Occupational Therapist. Such a lovely couple. There have been mornings that a tap on the door is heard, and Laurie comes in wielding a cup of tea or a beautiful card is left outside my door for when I wake. So homely. Such a blessing to be living here.

On Saturday Laurie and I decided to go to Rochester. Twenty five minutes walk from Gillingham waits this little town. It is not only the hometown of Charles Dickins but possibly one of the cutest towns ever. Complete with it's very own castle and old cathedral. It is beautiful, cobbled streets lined with pubs and lovely old shops. On arrival into the town I literally stood in the middle of the street, closed my eyes and breathed in with great joy; so good for the soul. We mooched, had coffee, did a spot of Christmas shopping and gushed over beautiful craft shops. So nice and so normal. And then Santa ran past. And then another one. And another one. Then the largest dog I had ever seen, dressed in a santa costume. So surreal, this beautiful town, with crowds of running santas just shooting past. Definitely good for a giggle. Apparently, the Christmas fun run was on that day. Hilarious.
Then went to a youth event in Maidstone with two that I work with, Keion and Becca. We had an interesting train journey to Maidstone with a conductor that thought he was a comedian and proceeded to do a little show on the train as he was checking our tickets. So hilarious. However, although we had a map for when we arrived and had to make our way to an obscure church, not only did we not know where we were going, but we diverted from the map and had to find our way through the backstreets. Eventually when we found the event, the speaker had cancelled last minute. But of course it ended up being amazing anyway, and God was totally there. People were getting up and sharing what God had put on their heart. And no matter how much I felt the need to share, I just couldn't overcome the fear to do it. Next time. Thank goodness for grace that overcomes our human disappointments.
Sunday, church. For once I was early, such a rare occasion, and I met this interesting old man called Peter. He was telling me stories of when he went to Glastonbury, his life and how four weeks earlier he had been standing at the bus stop, seen the church and decided to come back the next week. It is so amazing how ready people are to share their lives with a stranger. As he left church he said he would look out for me next time, and a cup of tea after the service was in order. I love these intriguing meetings with people. Quality.

As amazing as this weekend has been, Today I am filled with an all around 'messy' and hideous feeling, accompanied by homesickness. You know when you feel you should be doing more than you are, that you can't quite seem to do everything you feel you should, that your faults and weaknesses just get in the way? Well, that feeling has been a large niggle in my mind. I guess this is a growing journey full of grace and mercy. God knows I'm human and I will mess up, freak out and not always be brave enough to step out and do or say what he wants me to in a situation. Thank God for grace. I would love to always  be able to be positive and KNOW truly that I am living the dream yet sometimes I get so frustrated and disheartened with myself. I guess I always knew this wouldn't be the easiest, and growing always is tough. You can't grow, step out, follow Jesus and move countries without there being a few moments where questions do arise and struggles happpen. I think it's just about in these moments knowing that Jesus love never fails, and his promises are so complete. And if all else fails, there is be grace.
OCEANS of it. 
It is definitely a work in progress and it is so overwhelming. But God works through anything and to be used is a privilege. Thank goodness. I am only over here through Gods grace.

I'm slowly building up my English slang vocabulary, as to try and integrate into the culture. I'm sure the kids get fed up with me standing there looking baffled after they have just spoken a sentence, and the only way this can be avoided is to nod and say 'mmm' as if I clearly understand. This only gets awkward when on the odd occasion I get caught out and have to admit that I had no idea from the beginning. I've censored the dictionary of words I have learnt in the last 4 weeks, which has left only a few I can share. oh those kids.
'Well' this word is put in front of ANY feeling 'That is well good'
'innit?' not really a question, more of an add-on at the end of a sentence. 'Isn't it?'
'Reem' good
'Fitten' used to describe a good looking person of the opposite sex
'Fam' an affectionate word for friend
'Gaffas' policeman
'Bruv' Used in the same way that 'bro' is used
Never a dull moment with those kids.
As much as I miss home, the thought of going back fills me with a sense of loss, as if I know that no matter what, Gillingham is where I need to be right now.
Bring on the next week.

here we go.

So this week has been filled with showing off my lack of football skills, drop ins, bible club, a visit to the most beautiful english village I have ever seen, an impromptu visit to Britians largest beer warehouse, a Mexican evening, babysitting, more drop ins, £3 lunches with some amazing ladies, grey weather, late night longboard adventures and moving out of one house and into another. 

Mexican night. Loads of flags decorating the drop in, a pinata, hot chilli's, moustaches and nachos. Although an argument between a few senoritas turned slightly heated and the pinata smacking stick threatened to be turned into a weapon, it was a good night. God keeps bringing new youth in off the street which is so good. All we have to do is be open, make them cups of tea and chat to them. Man, I truly love it. And we are getting to work with some truly amazing, but in need kids. Such a privilege. This is why I am here. 

It's been so surreal this week. Gillingham is such a small town, and generally once the kids live in Gillingham, they will stay here their whole lives. So many times I have been walking down the high street and bump into one of the youth I worked with when I was here last. Or be meeting one of them for lunch and they just bring a few others I haven't seen yet. It has been so good.

I seriously feel like, nothing I say, or no matter how many times I describe things, or gush over how amazing it is, or say how much I know that I am meant to be here, it just doesn't do it justice. I almost want to bring everyone here, to Gillingham, on a field trip and experience it firsthand. The streets, the atmosphere, the people, the high street, the churches, the accents.  I am very glad, yet so overwhelmed, that Jesus uses ordinary people to be trusted with work he wants to do. The youth teach me things everyday. Not only the definitions of rude words, or the interpretation of the weird english slang, but things about life. Truly amazing.

On the odd occasion our drop ins aren't open, we do detached youthwork. This generally involves some kind of football game in Gillingham park or the Skinner street football cage, a load of school kids and, for me it's usually an energetic form of public humiliation. I apologise every time I set foot on the field for the lack of skill, and for what sort of talent the kids are going to witness in the following hour and a half. This is then usually followed by one of the other guys trying to get the kids to believe that I play for the New Zealand national football team; a rumour which is dispelled the second I miss the ball, miss the goal or in the moment I end up on the ground. It is truly hilarious and I like to think this lack of skill makes me more approachable for the young people. Or even just a good laugh. Unsure though. Definitely crossing sports ministry off my life calling list. Although, I did get a goal today. yeah boy. I think half of Gillingham could have heard the celebration that followed. Incredible. 

On another note, I like to think that the love of football is what spurs the population of Gillinghams' love for tracksuits. Matching bottoms and sweatshirts, nike, adidas or puma with possibly even a matching cap. Now this would make sense, if they ran everywhere, or had just been to the gym, or even were getting ready for the lead up to the olympic games. But they're not. It's just the thing to do. And the sports shop here even has a bridal section, just incase you want to wear a white tracksuit on your wedding day. Perfect. Obviously I have put an order in for the future. mm yes.

Downham Market pretty much sounds as quaint as it is. Cobbled streets with houses lining each side and fairy lights strung between them, beautiful english accents and brilliant countryside. Seriously straight out of some sort of calendar. A visit there to see some friends was just the perfect outing for a crisp Sunday. 

As much as I do love this place. and the kids. And can't believe that I can legitimately take youth out for lunch and chats and class it as work. However, I have to admit the weather is rubbish. Just so dreary and grey. Second winter is truly getting me down.

I am craving summer so bad. I need a tan and a swim in the ocean. 

Enjoy it for me.

intriguing people.

I met this man called John. He was just sat in the high street, a can of beer in his hand and as I smiled at him and asked him how he was going, a flicker of something crossed his eyes and the reply was 'life's pretty rough at the moment.' I sat crouched down beside him and heard his story of how he became an alcoholic, his mum passing away and how his family was dealing with it. And in that moment a huge feeling of humility, reality and overwhelming need sunk into me. This man was allowing me to hear the pains of his heart and his struggles, to hear his story. So humbling and such a privilege. I sat with him, assured him I would pray and as he asked what brought me to Gillingham and about why I love Jesus, I was filled with a sense of the hugeness, yet simplicity of this situation. Jesus works through anything.
The other morning I sat with two girls at the back of a greasy spoon cafe in the centre of Gillingham and, over their plates of bacon, beans and eggs, listened to them tell me what's been going on with them over the last two years, their matter of fact accounts of their run-ins with the police and being kicked out of college. So much need. And so much opportunity to provide practically for them and  show the reality of Jesus just by being there. So overwhelming.
There was this lady that I got to know while I was here last. She wears a head scarf and stands outside a bakery selling a 'big issue' magazine for £2 to make a small living and provide for her 5 children. There would be some days that I would walk past and just smile, some I would buy her lunch and on some not so great days I would ashamedly just walk past and look the other direction. Yesterday I walked past that same bakery, 2 years later and saw her. She looked at me and a flicker of recognition crossed her face. I said hi and then she held out her arms for a hug. This was the highlight of my day and such a hope that small things do count. I'm going to keep smiling and chatting to her. God is so good.
I realised that this is why I'm here to learn from people, to walk with people, share in their lives with them, love them and hopefully show them a little of who Jesus is to me.

In the drop in centres, we have been having so many new kids in, who would have been just hanging out on the streets and it is so exciting. So much opportunity. People have been being brought to Gillingham from all parts with the same heart, community focus and passion for their lives to amount for something in the kingdom scheme of things. There is a family from my church, who have moved to Gillingham with their two little girls, with the heart and intention of living missionally. They have bought a house with more rooms than they need, with the intention of housing like-minded people. They have offered to have me there in January for the rest of my stay in Gillingham. SO GOOD. A passion has been put in them for this town. Something truly exciting is happening in Gillingham.
And I'm excited to be a teeny part of it.

The week that has been.

So I have been in Gillingham nearly three weeks. 18 days. Already so many exciting things, so many thoughts, so much learning, so many adventures. It's been a mix of London, drop in centres, church, guy fawkes night, and hanging out with some amazing young people. And this is only a teeny fraction of the two years that I am going to be here. I can't even imagine what the two years will hold. Here's hoping it's flippin' mindblowing.

There are a few things I have come to expect since being here. Bad coffee. There is nowhere in Gillingham that I have been able to find a decent coffee. I have searched high and low, tested various beverages and have resigned to the fact that my love for a decent flat white will not be satisfied whilst being here. I even travelled to the next town to try my luck, only to sip on a burnt cup. Delicious. Also, in every conversation I have come to expect either a total miscommunication due to my accent. This has led to much confusion over introductions, as alot of people think I am telling them my name is 'Jiss.' It is such quality watching the confusion on their face as they comprehend why anyone would ever call their child that, then realise that I am foreign. Then there's the situation where the other person will imitate what I have just said, in their own version of my accent. Usually it is so bad that I find myself evaluating the way I say everything and hoping I don't sound anything like their impersonation. Anyway, on with the update.

Wednesday was a trip to London. This place is always so good for my soul.  Not only is it a people watchers dream, it's always just so intriguing, refreshing and puts things in perspective, feeling so small amongst the hustle and bustle of everything else going on around. Although I would later find out in the day that I could have just gone into the local bank branch in Gillingham to open an account, I secretly loved the excuse to head to the big city.
Firstly, the train journey was a beaut. There's always something so exciting, the prospect of an adventure as you step onto the platform and wait. I love it. The scenery is so nice, so refreshing. Castles and fields just rolling past the window and people of all descriptions to observe and ponder where they are going.
First stop, Victoria Station. I love it..So many people going so many different places and then there was me. I am most definitely that annoying girl that even though everyone around me is rushing to catch their next train, I just dawdle down the passageway to catch the tube.
The tube is the most unusual social habit ever. There are so many people in one place in such close proximity, but there is this unspoken rule that no one dares to speak with each, let alone make eye contact of any form. So unusual. It's almost as if people take great interest in anything they can whilst on the tube, staring at a poster on the tube wall, fiddling with their phones, reading the paper, just so they don't have to actually interact with anyone. So I just make eye contact and smile. So good. So obviously foreign.
London Bridge tube station, I just hopped off and wandered, had coffee, asked directions about a million times, walked over the most beautiful bridge with red buses going past every few minutes and breathed in the city air...it was truly glorious. London is so full of intriguing people, walking about as if they are on a mission and I am always drawn to observing them, imagining where they are going, what they do, what their lives are like, and the thought that just a simple 'hello' could start your two worlds merging. London is perfect for it. Truly. And such a treat.
The bank meeting went off without a hitch and I am slowly being integrated into normal English society, with my very own bank account. perfect

Guy Fawkes evening was on Saturday. Gillingham is quite well known, not only for it's football hooligans and trouble, but also for their epic fireworks display, complete with a smiley face firework to finish. My homegroup (yes I have also been integrated into a homegroup) decided that it would be a huge opportunity to serve the community before the display, and I just hopped on the band wagon. So we served hot dogs, hot chocolates and soup to the community before everyone headed off. So good.

The last few weeks I have been easing myself back into work with Gillingham Youth For Christ. Basically the aim of GYFC is to love and accept the kids as Jesus would and seek to practically meet their needs. I've been helping out at the drop in centres, and it has been SO AMAZING just to get back to the basics, meeting the kids, provide a place for them to hangout and seeking opportunities to just love them, accept them and share the hope of Jesus with them. Man, it's so real, and there have been so many times this week that, when I have been doubting, Jesus  has really hit home that this is where I am meant to be, and this is the work he has put on my heart. So good.

I've also been really challenged about being really open to meeting people down the high street and looking for opportunities to just love people. I am already learning so much.
And in everything God is so faithful. When I arrived, I had hardly any money, nowhere to stay and no plans, apart from volunteering with GYFC for the next 2 years. I have been staying with a friend, who is also a youthworker at YFC but they cant have me longterm due to their rent agreement so I've been looking for somewhere to stay. A couple from my church have offered for me to board with them for a pittance until January. So blessed. It's amazing to know that no matter what, God will continue to be faithful, put passions in my heart and do amazing things in Gillingham.
It's so good to know that.

good times ahead.

So here I am, in Gillingham, having travelled 28 hours to be here..and it literally just feels like home. It actually doesn't even feel like I left. I have just slotted right back in where I used to be with the people, the kids and everything. All the worry about whether I would be able to fit in again, what would happen when I was here, how I would survive was all uncalled for. Jesus had it all sorted. silly me.

The plane journey was 28 hours of flicking between banter with an old Irish man about the recession, weird moments of bursting into tears about leaving everyone back home, sleeping and really heavy food. good times.

I got picked up from the airport by a welcome committee waving English flags then home for a proper English fry-up. Perfect. Then the 24 hours of pre-prepared itinerary began.

I'm unsure whether people truly understand the nature of an English football match. It consists firstly with a trip to the pub, then a large amount of angry fans waving their fists in the air, yelling explicits at the ref and all players and occasionally a brawl will erupt in the stands. The players spend alot of their time rolling around on the ground pretending they're hurt so the other team gets in trouble and what would a Gillingham match be without two players being sent off for dirty tactics? I spent my time joining in with the fist waving and yelling comments like 'what were you thinking?!' So classic. I'll become a proper football hooligan within two years and be starting brawls all over the place.

It has been so good seeing everyone. I went and saw heaps of people that worked for Gillingham Youth For Christ and church families from last time I was here. Somehow I managed to get roped into playing pirates with some of the young kids, which pretty much ended up with me as the baddie everytime and getting attacked with swords, umbrellas and fists. Quality.

Then dinner with my old host family, The Prankards. Their six year old son had been worrying all day about whether he would understand me or not. So his greeting to me, with an outstretched hand ready to shake mine was, 'Hello my name is Alfie, Do you speak English?' So good. This worry was overcome when we started a band with his mini drum kit and guitar. So if you hear of a New Zealander becoming famous in a band with the youngest boy ever, you will know it's me.

As much as I miss home and everyone, I do truly have this deepset feeling this is where I'm meant to be, a feeling I haven't felt so strongly since being here last. Everyone has been so good to me. And with the conversations I've been having with people from the church, it sounds like people are being brought to Gillingham from all over the place with similar thoughts, passions and hearts for this time. I can't even imagine what the next two years will hold. God has been so good and has provided for me so far a place to live, a wad of cash that was waiting for me from an anonymous sponsor and a volunteering position right back with Gillingham Youth For Christ. Tonight I'm gunna be in the high school age drop in centre where the kids that usually hangout on the streets with nothing to do come and hangout in a safe environment, get cared for, listened to and just generally hung out with. It is truly amazing and I can't wait.

In other news, I am possibly the only one in Gillingham that has a topknot. Apparently it's gunna be banned in youth club and classed as social suicide. Or maybe I will start a trend?

Watch this space.

here we are.

Oh Gillingham. You draw me back every time.
This town, has captured me from the moment I arrived in the year I came out of high school.
The drop in centres, the youth, the community, the need, the people.
And since then if I haven't been there, I have been dreaming of being there.
And now the wait is over.
It's my time to go back.
And in eight short days I will once again be there.

It has been a dream. Five weeks ago I left my full-time retail job, with the hope of finding out where I was headed, my purpose, and to cement a plan for my life.
And here I am, preparing to go back to England, with a one way plane ticket and a two year working visa.

The thought of being somewhere where I know I am meant to be, where I know amazing things will happen, working towards something bigger than me, fills me with such a huge feeling of excitement and freedom but also is so daunting. I never knew that sometimes when a dream becomes reality, no matter how long you have hoped for it to happen, stepping into it is still terrifying.

But I know that Jesus never lets me down and has been with me every step of the way so far.

Mindblowing.

It's going to be such a journey.

And I truly can't wait.

wild hope.

I like to think that this is the sort of hope that doesn't have to rely on the possibles, that isn't restricted to the worlds view of what you can do, that is full of wildly dreaming for things that seem ridiculous to others, that doesn't rely on your talents or education, but relies on something far greater and bigger. It's hope without boundaries, that isn't safe, tame or realistic. It is the hope that I can dream amazing things, and God will use me to carry them out. It is a hope that I can truly change the world I am in, no matter what.

I'm deciding to wildly hope.

And trust that it will make a difference.