Today my project team and I commenced packing up our office for a physical relocation next Monday. Although moving buildings is just an administrative glitch in our timeline, it does afford a physical reminder of reaching the end of the year and marks a transition to a new organisational structure. In conjunction with the physical packing I decided to audit my electronic filings on both email and hard drive. Going over twelve month's worth of product and determining what is worthy of keeping and what is not required at all (should it ever have been kept) provided a reminder of the journey we have undertaken this year. And in the light of current frustrations at the amount of work ahead of us it was timely to reflect on how much we have achieved.

Last night Adrian spoke about worship and remembering what God has done in the past. An auditing of His blessings, patience, discipline and love would serve well to remind us of the potential for the challenges ahead if we continue to allow Him to work in our lives. Just as reflecting on the work already done gives a sense of achievement and a confidence in tackling the next task to come along, so too a comfort is gained from remembering God's past attentions and drawing strength from the possibility of His future presence.

Like returning to an old childhood neighbourhood, there are vestiges of familiarity that convict me of my neglect. Failure to catch up with old friends, discarding part of my background not out of choice or shame, but rather caused by the distractions of busyness and the pathetic quenching of a writer's desire. Can I ignore this inner voice any longer? I fear my silence would testify to laziness and apathy.

I hope to visit soon for a longer stay. Suffice to say you are missed and I hope to have something meaningful to offer when next I call.

Cold noodles again

I sit at my desk, glorious (is that a culinary term) beef mustard curry
reheated from last night for lunch. I reflect on yesterday's lunch
experience, so eloquently drafted for posting and committed to the ether
junkyard by a system reboot overnight!!!

As I recall, my expectation of a steaming hot bowl of noodles was based
upon the supposition that the brew room microwave would perform to
expectation. However the rude shock of having a lump of cold, slimy noodles
enter my mouth instead of the olfactory anticipation being met was too
much.

It prompted a great philosophical linkage to those situations in life where
my "bowl of noodles" turns out to be cold or slimy or just yuck! The
difference with real life situations is that no quick trip back into the
brew room is usually available to zap the offending circumstance.

God serves up cold noodles as he sees fit. I just need to learn to go
hungry or eat them as my hunger overrides circumstance.

Maybe cold noodles are good for me and my tastes need to change!!

==========

Speaking of cold noodles, tonight Kel and I say goodbye to our best
friends. They are moving back to Detroit after three years down under. It
will be a hard farewell to make.

Administrative Admissions

I will be so glad when we get to the next life that there will be no longer
any requirement for administration!

The cycle of business meetings, tax returns, administrative instructions,
bill paying, investment monitoring, budgeting, in tray clearing,
conferences - they are all so not worth the effort sometimes!!

I envy the birds that I see in our yard.

The other day, as I was stacking wood (yes the preparation for winter
continues - each piece of firewood warms three times, cutting, stacking and
then burning) a honey eater flew past me into the bushes next to the wood
pile. Beautifully created with its long curved beak reaching into the heart
of each flower, feasting on the nectar within.

My favourites are the tiny finches that know you are about to reveal the
choicest grubs and bugs to them before you start to shift wood. They gather
around on the ground, waiting for the next morsel to be unearthed. Flitting
over the wood pile they embody the presumption of abundant provision that I
wish I had the faith to accept from God.

If I did not think I had to provide so much for myself, then maybe my
administrative overheads might not be so burdensome.

At 32

We bid farewell to Matty D on Tues

At 32 you are not supposed to by laying in a wooden box.
At 32 you had better be ready for eternity.

About Abortion

The abortion issue is getting some new life in Australian politics.

The Pro-life lament: Letter to editor -The Australian 2 Feb 05 "What right
do you have to put anything between the mother and father, the doctor and
the mother's health?"

Isn't there something missing here - what about the baby.

Trying to define the extent of the problem, by calling abortion a separate
action to other medical procedures, John Anderson, the Deputy Prime
Minister 3 Feb 05:
"At what point do we say a fetus takes on a life of its own? In a society
like ours, legislation should reflect as closely as it can the will of the
people."

His comment highlights the lack of moral truth in the issue as society
considers it. Humanism, relativism and opinion through a democratic process
are no guarantee that life will be represented or protected.

Just because it is popular doesn't mean it is right!

"Most of the change we think we see in life is due to truths being in and
out of favour" - Robert Frost

Where is the baby in all of this? The will of the people will rarely
reflect the moral truth as laid down by God.

m<><

The most important breath

His breath came in short gasps as the restriction in his throat grew
tighter.

The gentle savour of pasta, peas and corn was quickly replaced by the
realisation that without rapid movement his ability to recover without help
would disappear. Alone in his office, no one was due back to disrupt his
lunchtime reverie for another forty minutes. His final moments fittingly
synonymous with the Dilbert email spread across his screen.

A vision flashed before his eyes of his body being found, slumped over the
keyboard with endless pages of nonsensical text scrolling down the screen,
a form of ironic eulogy composed by his face mashed into the keyboard.

A short sharp gasp and hard forceful cough and the terror of asphyxiation
was replaced by the need to search for some paper towel to remove the
embarrassing jetsam of a mouthful of lunch from his desk.

(Someone once told me that the only thing that separates us from eternity
is our next breath. Hope you enjoyed your lunch today, I eventually did!)

Professional Profanities Point to Probable Predisposition

It is official - I am off LLeyton Hewitt.

I stayed up til midnight watching his 5 set epic in the Quarter Finals,
admiring his strength, heart, resolve and reserve as his exuberant antics
were curtailed throughout the match.

I can handle expletives to do with bowel movements, the frustration of the
F word, but why does he need to use the Lord's name in vain - twice.

I know that it probably means nothing to him, but it shows the inner man.

My ears cringe and my heart cries.

RIP Matt

From today's "The Australian":

"AS torrential rain and hail pounded down, defence force helicopter pilot
Matthew Donovan was determined to ensure his girlfriend, two brothers and
three friends got out of Empress Canyon before him.

The canyon in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, had flooded and turned
into a series of sucking pools of deep water. Having ensured his friends
were safe, Matthew, who served in Iraq and East Timor, was the last to jump
into a pool close to the canyon's mouth - an act of selflessness that cost
him his life.

"Matthew being Matthew, he was making sure everyone got out," his uncle
Basil Donovan said yesterday. "Even though he was into adventure, he was
always remarkably careful."

Brother James Donovan is the police officer who made headlines 10 days ago
when he jumped inside a taxi and wrestled a gunman in a packed city street
in Melbourne. A second brother, Kelly Donovan, is a high-ranking army
officer.

But the force of water in the canyon was so strong that both were powerless
to save Matthew.

Police rescue divers found his body mid-morning yesterday in the rock pool
at the top of Empress Falls, after a rescue effort hindered by fog and
heavy rain.

"It looks like the waters sucked him back underneath," said Springwood
police inspector Tony Malone. "The water-flow has pinned him in and kept
him under."

James and Kelly arrived back in Sydney last night, traumatised after having
watched their brother drown.

"Since Matthew's father died 10 years ago he's been very close to his
brothers," Basil Donovan said. "But by the time it was his turn to swim,
the current was too strong.

"His brothers had to watch. Because of the whirlpool effect, he was coming
up and down."

It was late afternoon on Saturday when the group of six walked down the
steep steps that lead to Empress Canyon.

An experienced canyoner, Matthew usually preferred more challenging
canyons, but that day he had chosen a beginner's spot in the Blue
Mountains. He did not want to put anyone's safety at risk.

His nephews knew storms were forecast, Basil Donovan said, but had no idea
they would hit the canyon so hard.

The National Parks and Wildlife Service said the heavy downpour was
extremely localised, and the ground was already waterlogged from days of
rain.

The grief-stricken party spent yesterday at Katoomba police station making
statements before a family gathering in Sydney.

"He was a very, very high-achieving, very caring and very loving son,"
Basil Donovan said."

RIP

Is there a hurry?

This morning a heavy shroud of mist sat on the mountain, dumping heavy dewoff of the gum leaves onto my head and back as I made my way along a running trail. It provided a stark representation of the weight sitting on my spiritual being at the moment. Three days, three impacts of death. None of them particularly close, but close enough to wonder why and when.

On the way to the Australian Open Tennis on Saturday we passed a body of a cyclist on the roadway, the victim of a hit and run. Covered in a plastic sheet, feet protruding with cycling shoes attached, the milling of emergency services personnel around the scene caused traffic to slow. Later in the day we would hear that the driver at fault had turned himself into
police after initially fleeing the scene, a fact of interest but unknown to a 32 year old now set loose into eternity, reaching a destination far from his intended end point to that which he contemplated as he strapped into his pedals that morning.

It was a record day for any Grand Slam event ever at the tennis with over sixty thousand attending. As we managed to cram into the back row of the stadium, securing seats before the first game I gazed around at the "special" people in their "special" boxes, secure behind a glass screen in their "specially" designated lounge chairs. As I ate my snacks, hastily thrown into a bag on the way out the door that morning, I thought of the "special" people, eating their special" food, with "special" service - no half hour queues for a carton of overpriced animal fat and second rate potatoes for them. Then I thought as Christians how we can sit in our own "special" boxes, enjoying the privilege and security of eternity without a thought for the sea of faces in the stands below, not caring about inviting the "less" worthy into our sphere - because they have not paid the price, or it would inconvenience us to share, or they might actually demand more
of us than we are willing to give.

But what if this is the last tennis match they ever have the opportunity to see, they might not have another chance to enter the world of the "special' people again. What if they do not make it to the game because they get knocked off their bike?

Yes, there is a hurry.
=========

Last night James and I caught up on the phone. He asked if I remembered a mutual friend. He went to the doctor in September, was asked what he planned to do between then and Christmas. She shook her head and told him to forget about work. He passed away from cancer on Christmas Eve at age thirty four. A picture of success - mega bucks, globe trotting, important roles in international organisations - passed onto eternity. He got things right with God, came back to the reality of his faith.

Wonder if there were regrets for lost time.

And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully: And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits? And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul,
thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry. But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided? So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich
toward God. And he said unto his disciples, Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat; neither for the body, what ye shall put on. The life is more than meat, and the body is more than raiment. Luke 12:16-23.

Yes, there is a hurry.
===========

I wanted to call Kel this morning to see if the Pest Controller had arrived, but she called me first. We had seen wild summer storms lashing the northern states on the news last night. A canyoning party had to be rescued in the Blue Mountains due to flash flooding. One man was still unaccounted for after being washed away. Police hold grave fears for his life. It is more than likely that they will only find a body. Kel had received a call to let her know that he was a class mate of ours from College. Nice guy, not real close but friendly enough to catch up with when
I was on course with him last year. We can only pray for the best and prepare for the worst.

Yes - there is a hurry.
============

Morning Glory

This morning as I ran through the National Park I broke into the clearing
that gives a sweeping view over the city below and the ranges to the East
and West. In the early morning grey the shadows still played, but the form
was unmistakable to the slight right, halfway up the slope. A large brown
fox, caught out in the open, stalking down wind from the cluster of rabbit
burrows under constant development.

With one quick word of encouragement Hootie was off, a black streak blazing
across the freshly cut hay, hastening the fleeing fox into the ferns along
the fenceline in the distance. Despite the feral and destructive nature of
this introduced species the beauty of God's creation was with me as I ran
up the rise to the top of the clearing and turned to look back over the
city to the bay in the distance.

Sitting like a layer of cotton wool on a saucer, a shroud of low oppressive
cloud blocked out the urban sprawl below, protecting my wonder at creation
from the distraction of artificial features. Off to my right a large
electrical storm was moving in over the western plains, the arcs of
potential difference lighting a ladder from ground to ceiling, moving
closer as the enlightenment of dawn was being challenged by the darkness of
a storm front.

A gentle breeze gathered strength, the smell of fresh hay and rain
harbingers of the storm that was gradually drowning out the sight and sound
of morning. As I turned to move off home the sound of thunderheads moved
closer and started to be accompanied by the first droplets of rain, come to
launder the sleep from nature's eyes. The thunderheads broke overhead and
the power of creation was reinforced even further.

Soul Patch

Yesterday I came back to work after four weeks break. The psychological preparation and domestic routine of setting the alarm clock, making sure my uniform was ready, thinking in advance as to what I would need for lunch all came to a head when I looked bleary eyed in the mirror at 0545 hours and faced the reality of having my first full shave in 31 days.

Friends told me that the tuft of hair growing under my bottom lip is known as a "soul patch". Now as I faced its removal the strength of the metaphor was apparent as I prepared to remove part of my soul and return to the vocational grind. Every holiday I grow my beard in one form or another as a symbol of outcry against the routine conformity forced upon me through
regimental standards. The stripping away of that facial hair embodies the return to a facet of my existence that is not entirely my preference.

It is not that I do not like my employment, it is more the opportunity cost that is associated with spending my time in my current fish bowl. But I know that what I do makes a difference and as I enter my 19th year in service I know that the time is coming closer when I will be able to make another choice.

There are a couple more weeks before I start this year's subjects for my post military role. Only three subjects this year and then I can move into the final year of preparation to teach. I am looking forward to building on last year's results. Yesterday I received a letter from Uni asking me to consider post graduate work. I think I need to consider myself seriously as a student now. Study is not just another diversion from the priority of life - maintenance of a "heavenly vision".

Emmanuel preached on Sunday and reminded us of the greatest threat to our purpose in the world - believing there is no hurry!.