God Meets Us Where We Are...

It’s funny how God can just stop us in our tracks. I had been woken early by Tiamo who’d knocked over the glass of water beside my bed, and first thing I was on my knees drying off all the precious books and notebooks that I keep at arm’s length. You know, the ones that mark your spiritual journey and the outpourings of your heart. The ones that are your recent companions.


As I opened the blinds downstairs, I picked up a couple of magazines and letters found in a neat little stack by the window. Oh, there’s a letter from a friend last year. I carried it to the kitchen table, punched in a CD to start my morning off with some inspiration, slipped open the envelope.

Bagpipes began playing as I stood there reading the card.

“Dearest Dayle, Thank you again so much for so many good memories, Love Laura”

Now tears are streaming down my face as these become the bagpipes in the field as we all gathered to sprinkle Bill’s ashes, and I remember Laura’s friendship that started in our little medieval village in Italy. The gratefulness as she recognized the pain in my heart, then later the delight she experienced in the spirit of love and peace that permeates our beloved Ghost Gums on the Ridge.

Yes, God knows how to meet us right where we are. He catches us in those unguarded moments. The work’s done, the deadlines are met, and even though a little tired after the late hours to achieve it, now it’s a sense of lightness. And in these moments of abandonment to him he slides his hand right inside our cloak. Softly holds our beating heart. Brushes the tears on our cheek with the other.

Where do I go today, Lord? I fall on my knees before you.

Golden Nuggets from Nashville Film Festival

Nashville’s 43rd Film Festival, rated one of the 10 best film festivals in the country, is currently playing in town, so I enjoyed a media pass with photo op to visit one of the top panel discussions today. Nicole Kidman joined actors-turned-directors Famke Janssen, Beth Grant and Carrie Preston to discuss The Evolution of Women Behind the Camera.

These four talented women expressed some wonderful gems, and gave an honest look at life as actor/producer/director in an industry where men have traditionally held the top positions. As a fellow Aussie, I share a kindred spirit with Kidman, who also now resides in Nashville with her country music star husband, Keith Urban.

Their credits are impressive. Nicole Kidman (producer and Academy Award winning actor); Famke Janssen (“Golden Eye,” “X-Men” Trilogy); Beth Grant (“Sordid Lives,” “The Artist,” “A Time to Kill,” “Speed”); Carrie Preston (“True Blood,” “Doubt,” “My Best Friend’s Wedding”).

Let me share some of their golden nuggets…

Nicole Kidman:

“I want (to work with) someone who is sensitive, so I can feel brave.”

“Find mentors. Find people who believe in you, to help you through the tough times.”

“You’ve just got to try stuff. Just keep going – it’s your story.”

“I want to play women who push the boundaries, whose stories otherwise wouldn’t be told.”



Carrie Preston:

“The margin of error is very small when you’re a woman.”

“Don’t give your power away to anybody. Now, more than ever, people can create their own thing. Just start doing it (filmmaking or whatever).”

Famke Janssen:

“I encourage everyone to explore every part of themselves. In Indie films the only thing we can do is let actors play roles they would normally never get to do.”

“Everything is an opportunity. What you do with that opportunity is up to you. Don’t let people box you in.”

“It’s really important to stay true to yourself. You have to be highly creative all the time. There is no one path to anything.”

Beth Grant:

“I try to get my ego out of the way, and seek to serve others and bless them. How can I help this actor, producer, crew tell their story today?”

“Yes, and…is a better philosophy than arguing.”

“As artists we have so much energy, we can’t just have an ordinary career. We need to do so much more!”

Invitation to Live!

Easter morning is always filled with an air of expectancy. The sun’s first rays bring life to limestone walls covered in a riotous tumble of crimson bougainvillea.

At the command of his heavenly Father, the Son of Man bursts forth from the grave, fully alive. He steps into the garden, vibrant, illuminated with the brilliance of God himself, victorious!

The world changed forever in that instant. Man no longer doomed to die, but offered a joyous eternity with his Creator who expressed His love in the most unbelievable way.

The darkness of separation now fled in the light of this glorious new morning, Jesus fulfills his promise to show us the way. The only response is to follow…

As evening falls, catch a glimpse of him on that road to Emmaus, falling in step with two believers. Unrecognized, even as he explained the Scriptures, leading them through every prophecy and psalm that foretold his coming. I too have walked that dusty road, plucked ripe figs from overhanging branches, heard birds singing in the trees. Touched the ancient stones in this long-forgotten village. Entreated to stay, he breaks bread at their meal, and in that moment they see him!

Broken bread, poured out wine – his life given so that we might step with him now into that new day. Irresistible love calling us forth…

When Heaven Weeps...

When the blackness of night covers us in its mantle, hiding the myriad details that fill our waking world, only then is our soul bared.
What pains and unexpressed sorrows drift to the surface uninvited?
What demons haunt, laughing at our feeble efforts, deriding our small victories and leaving us accused and found wanting?
Do we ever really know ourselves? Have we plumbed the depths of our characters, followed the twists and turns into the labyrinth of our own soul?

A few short weeks ago my friend took her own life, and I am struggling to make sense of it. It was so completely out of character. None of the usual warning signs. A sweet and beautiful girl, with a gentle-hearted husband, and two adorable children. Her seven-year-old daughter is a dancing sunbeam, full of light and effervescence. Her three-year-old son a grinning cherub of mischief. I hear her cheery voice and see her smiling face before me. I’ve watched her grow into womanhood, strong, resilient, warm, vibrant, beautiful. Life often takes us over rough roads, and for some the rocky patches lead through dark valleys. As she stood there that night, did the demon of abandonment return in a sudden chill swish of black wings, the sharp spear of her own mother’s rejection thrust again into her heart, killing reason? Or did an emotional threat go horribly wrong?

Oh, God, how did Satan seduce her away from your love, and so convince her of her worthlessness that your soft voice wooing her heart was blotted out by darkness for one terrible moment? When heaven weeps, my heart weeps too, Lord. And how it breaks for the torment her husband must live with daily, and the loss those two sweet children will feel every day of their lives.

I received a message from God the morning after the tragedy, when reading My Utmost for His Highest, by Oswald Chambers. “God is making us spell out our own souls. It is slow work, so slow that it takes God all time and eternity to make a man and woman after His own purpose...It is astounding how ignorant we are about ourselves...We have to get rid of the idea that we know ourselves...The only One Who understands us is God.”

What depths there are to each of us that we cannot plumb or even fathom. We don't really know our extremities or our possibilities. We barely know ourselves. Just as He did with His disciples, when Jesus takes us alone He begins to reveal the truths about ourselves, and we discover our desperate need for understanding and redemption.

Perhaps one of the most amazing passages in the Bible is Psalm 139, where God reveals that He has loved us even before the foundation of the earth, and laid His hand upon us.

“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
If I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast.”

A misty rain began falling the morning after the tragedy, as heaven’s tears washed away all traces of the night’s tragedy from the blood-stained earth.




By nightfall, the ground was covered in a white mantle of snow.

On the Edge of Time

New Year’s Eve holds our lives on tiptoe, breath sucked in, waiting…expectantly. Just what is coming next? We look up into the starry heavens. Perhaps we can read our future in the stars flashing like diamonds, secrets tucked in folds of black velvet vanishing into the depths of space and eternity.

Reflecting back we study the imprint of our personal history, clues to the meaning of our very existence. Lives intersected, experiences remembered, lessons learned, hearts broken and recreated by love. If we take the time to slip off alone, meditate on years past, ponder on where we are, and the journey to this moment, we may hear God’s voice whisper to us in the stillness. He is calling us to step forward bravely into the unknown, willing to leave our safety zone. How else will we experience the adventure of life?

But let’s hesitate a moment, and savor the tapestry of New Year’s Eves past, rolling the flavor on our tongue, dancing around the memories like shadowy nymphs circling a bonfire. Take your own journey back through time, and enjoy revisiting each treasure hidden in the recesses of your heart.

In my late teens, I remember the Christmas Beach Mission Coffee Shops in Australia. A week at Torquay, one of Victoria’s ocean beach resorts. During the day we played on the beaches, connecting with summer holidaymakers. In the evenings the coffee shop became a favorite hang out for young people. Music, free coffee and refreshments, friendly people offering a listening ear, and a message of hope and acceptance with spiritual significance. And then there was the drummer… I have to admit to a personal distraction! My girlfriends and I became instant groupies!

Despite the years of New Year’s Eve parties, I liked best the times we saw the New Year in quietly, giving time to look back over the year just past, souls bared, precious moments spent talking with God about the year ahead. One year several of us sat on the sandy cliffs at Black Rock beach, slightly apart as midnight approached. Personal time gazing up at the starry Southern sky. Reflecting on our path taken, lessons staked in the sand, relationships, dreams still waiting. Then resolutions made, asking God to hold us accountable.

The wedding of my best friend, Liz, was another NYE memory. Although I was a camp leader at Bairnsdale, 300 miles away on the Gippsland Lakes, I obtained dispensation to be gone for 24 hours. She and Dick pledged their vows as the sun set on Liz’s family farm, sheep quietly grazing on the hillsides. We were all college friends, destined to share many significant moments in our future. Champagne corks shot into the sky at midnight to celebrate the start of their life together.

Many years later, on one of my trips back to Australia, life’s pendulum had swung almost 360 degrees. Bill had sent me back to visit family, staying behind in Tennessee to take care of our responsibilities. Liz, Dick and I spent New Year’s Eve together, camping at Beechworth, one of Victoria’s old gold mining towns. We hiked into town to see the New Year in, and joined the Main Street throng. I bought a bottle of champagne, and we all signed the cork after drinking our toast “To Whatever Comes Next,” desperately missing Bill’s presence; once more separated by oceans and continents. Little did I know, that it would be the last time I would see Dick. He was killed in a helicopter crash the following December.

Bill and I collected our corks in a barrel in our Wine Room at Ghost Gums in Tennessee. Years later, at a party when Liz was staying with us, a curious young friend emptied out the barrel of corks and began reading them. I couldn’t believe it when Nick pulled out the very cork that Liz, Dick and I had signed on Dick’s final New Year’s Eve. I quietly handed it to Liz, the words unspoken as tears pricked her eyes.

I could speak of other New Year’s Eves, but the most memorable of all was New Year’s Eve at the Gliding Club in Benalla, when the dial clicked over to 1981. We had spent a week flying the Christmas Competition, sharing turns in our single seat glider on triangular cross-country tasks. Just before midnight Bill took me out of the dancing merriment in the theatre of the old World War II barracks for a breath of fresh air. I sat on the curb in the moonlight, Bill at my side, when he totally surprised me and asked me to marry him. I hesitated, just briefly enough to tease him. The strains of Old Lang Syne called us back inside to our friends, and we returned, most not realizing that our future had irrevocably changed in that moment. One of our pilot friends looked at us quizzically when we rejoined the party. "Is there something you should tell me?" he asked. How on earth did he know!

These are different days now. My soulmate has gone on ahead, and I am left to find my way alone. So how do I see New Year’s Eve now? The stars still rotate across the sky, the seasons still change, and life continues. Deep loss demands that we find the meaning of our individual imprint. A half moon hangs suspended in the winter sky. Its beauty now lies in the curve of its half crescent. Not full, yet perfect in its altered form. I know instinctively that God is telling me I am complete, because I am created in His image. It’s hard when all my friends have their partners to share all those treasured moments of life with, while I stand alone. But my memories remind me that I have been loved to the depths of my being, and I can be content because of that treasure I hold in my heart forever. Bill gave me a glimpse into the very heart of God.

                                 God calls,

                                 Starlight beckons.

                                 Stretch beyond your limits.

                                 Mysteries await those willing

                                 To fly

*Leave a post of your own New Year's Eve memories