After five years

This week, New Zealand and I had our five year anniversary. Five years since I got on the one way flight. Five years since I said goodbye to Belfast and all those I knew and loved. Five years since I sat at Hong Kong airport, one flight down, one to go, wondering if I'd had a temporary break with sanity when I thought this was a good idea.

It's good to look back sometimes. It's good to remember those things: the good times and how they could come out of nowhere; the hard times and that they ended; the people and the shapes they chiselled  on my heart.

So, allow me a little self-indulgence. Today, I remember...

I remember Lee and Sarah, two blessings all wrapped up in the skins of Irish physios. I was less than excited about being thrown into a flat with people I didn't know, but that would have been different if I'd known what was coming: a lot of cups of tea, Friday nights with America's Next Top Model, Irish brush dancing and more than a little inter-Ireland banter in the world's most poorly insulated house.

I remember beauty, a whole lot of beauty. From Milford Sound, to Cathedral Cove, to Lake Tekapo, to Raglan, to random little spots on the edge of the road in the middle of nowhere. It's not really any wonder that New Zealanders are proud and protective of their little patch of earth. 

I remember my first experience of the Waikato Stadium. I don't remember the result (for the record, that's a lie, but let's brush past that quickly). I was so excited to be doing physio at a big stadium that I didn't care that it was pouring with rain and about 3 degrees. It seems the stadium has now become almost my second home, and I can tell you for a fact that it's not quite as exciting at 5:30 a.m. But I am still amazed at the opportunities I've been given to get me where I've been able to go.




I remember people who have welcomed me into their homes, fed me, stopped me from being homesick, shown me around their country, made me part of their families. Special shout out has to go to the Tucks. So Kelly, Stan, Helen, Jase, Abby and Eli, thanks for turning me into Pip McTuck and treating me like part of the furniture.

In case you're in any doubt, I also remember that I've got people that I left behind, in the UK and in South Africa. And I will always remember that sometimes it's worth travelling 18155 kilometres.

There's so much more. Ski trips, Pacific Island adventures, unplanned treks, good food, midnight giggles, paragliding, cats, fellowship, cocktails, questions, the occasional answer, and a whole lot more to come.

Thank you New Zealand. It's been a treat.

'Finding Yourself'

Our modern day culture places a considerable emphasis on the process of

'Finding Yourself'

There are quotes about it, books on it, twelve-step plans telling us how to go about it, online quizzes telling us who we are... Travel, explore other cultures, religions, rituals, spend time alone, do things that scare you, analyse your emotions: the things we do to find out 'who we are'. None of these are bad things, but what about the goal they seek to achieve? How worthy is the goal of 'finding yourself'? And, if the answer is 'very', how should we do it?

I was watching a bit of 'Eat, Pray, Love' with a friend the other day and we started discussing why it is that people think they need to travel to find themselves. Is it about getting out of your comfort zone to see how you react? Or about learning new things to see if those things are what you've always longed to do?

I've travelled. I've experienced different ways of life in South Africa, the Philippines, Romania, New Zealand, Ireland. And, without a doubt, those times have made me grow, possibly more than any other times in my life, but have they told me anything useful about who I am? And has that knowledge changed the course of my life?

I'm not sure I could say yes to that.

Because, despite how much I've loved those things, despite how much I would recommend travel and exploring and adventures, I think the key to finding yourself is much simpler. 

I think the key to finding yourself is actually not about finding yourself at all.

"Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him, everything else thrown in."
CS Lewis

If you had a coffee machine (mmmmm coffee) that was supposed to produce wonderful, hot, tasty coffee to get you through the day, but instead only spewed out cold water and random intervals, what would you do? First step would probably be to get out the manual, to read the manufacturer's instructions. If that didn't help, maybe a phone call to the manufacturer. You wouldn't send the coffee machine to Outer Mongolia to fix itself (ok, so coffee machines don't have legs and eyes, but you get my point, right?)

My point is this:

Can I suggest that, perhaps, if you want to find out who you are, you need to look to the one who made you?