Our Life Overseas ♥
What Advice Would You Give Your Younger Self?
Ahhhhh, I love Fridays. Have I ever told you that I’m a homebody? Yup, completely and irrevocably.
I LOVE being home.
I ♥ curling up on the couch with my laptop, or maybe some Netflix.
I ♥ organizing.
I ♥ decorating.
I ♥ cooking, and yes, sometimes even cleaning.
I even ♥ rainy days when I can hide within our four walls and not feel guilty for avoiding the beaches or malls.
Don’t get me wrong… I also ♥ being with people. In fact, inviting people over is the BEST way to fill my love tank. I ♥ coffee times with friends or bring & share suppers, and I ♥ having parties! The BEST!
But I must admit that it wasn’t always like this. There was a time (and still occasionally is) when I felt completely out-of-place here in South Africa. When we first landed ten-and-a-half years ago, everything felt foreign and strange. EVERYTHING! Flavours, language, customs, clothing; even the coffee and toothpaste were weird and unsettling.
Foreign… It’s a horrible feeling.
Last night, we had the incredible privilege to be interviewed at Creative Collective—the gathering of a creative community that we hold every Thursday night just before worship practice.
Happy Women’s Day – Quietly Confident
HAPPY WOMEN’S DAY!
Ahhhhh, I love public holidays. I love the joy of turning off the alarm clock and snuggling back under the covers. Warm, cozy. No appointments, no responsibilities. In my opinion, ANY holiday is a good holiday.
One of the challenges of living overseas is not having a built-in consciousness of that particular nation’s public holidays. I mean, I’ve lived most of my life in Canada, and I can tell you EXACTLY when the public holidays will be. In fact, I’m quite certain that my body clock resets itself by those dates… Family Day, Spring Break, Victoria Day, Canada Day, August long weekend, Labour Day weekend, Thanksgiving, and finally Christmas. I ♥ it!
But what happens when you move to another country and lose that internal holiday clock? You become “royally” MESSED UP, that’s what.
Awesome, Rachel. Awesome!
I could smell the chlorine before I’d even heard the splashing. Moisture ran down the tile walls in intricate patterns. The excitement in that small room was deafening.
Every parent understands the urgency for swimming lessons, especially when you live by the sea. We invest in the skill, practice with them regularly, and happily sit for hours in a steamy room, completely ruining our hair-do for the day.
This was that season for me. Even though Jeffreys Bay was a small town, we were still privileged to find a swimming teacher who passionately taught lessons in the 10x10m pool at the local Policlinic.
When I entered, Rachel was halfway across the pool and swimming fiercely. Front crawl. No, she wasn’t traveling fast but, man, were her arms moving.
