If it's right, it should be simple...right?

Sometimes, you just know when something is right.

...a job change...a relationship...a big move...  

Sometimes you have reasons for knowing: it fulfills a dream, it gives you a chance to use your skills, it's in the right place at the right time. Sometimes you don't, sometimes you just can't explain it.

When I got made redundant from my first job in New Zealand, there was a lot of uncertainty: jobs, money, visas. I didn't know how it was going to be resolved. But what I did know was that I was meant to stay where I was, that Hamilton was the place for me, for that time. People all around me were asking me if I thought the redundancy was a sign that I should go back to Belfast, or that I should move to where more of the opportunities were. And logically, those seemed like better options. But I just knew, unequivocally, in a way I can't define or explain, that I was going to stay.

That knowledge didn't necessarily make things easier. I had to write up a CV, get references, deliver my CVs, look into my visa options, make a budget to work out how long I could manage if I didn't find another job straight away. It was a busy time. It was a time of mental, emotional, physical strain. But it was right.

I think, somewhere inside me, I feel that if I make the right decisions, 

the good decisions, it's all going to be easy, it all should be easy. 

I feel that God should clear the way, 

knocking all the obstacles out of my path.

But, just because something is right does not mean that it is simple, that it's not going to take hard work.

As I've been thinking about moving overseas to study a Masters next year, I have felt that it is right. The timing feels right, the process feels right. I can see events in my life that have led to this point. I have had affirmation from people I know. And I assumed that everything would fall into place like jigsaw puzzle pieces fitting together.

I didn't think about the sacrifices. The sacrifice of money: course fees, living expenses, travel expenses. The sacrifice of leaving New Zealand, for who knows how long?  The sacrifice of a career that I've worked hard at for six years, that, no matter how I feel about it, is still something that a lot of my security lies in. The sacrifice of change, of knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.

It's going to be hard. Even the practicalities of it: selling my car, my bed, my washing machine, finding somewhere to live in Amsterdam or Edinburgh or Durham, adjusting to being a student again. When I found out that the course in Edinburgh would cost a lot of my life savings, my initial reaction was disappointment. I instantly assumed that meant I just couldn't do it. But then I started thinking, "if it's the right thing, maybe that's a sacrifice I'm prepared to make." Just because it's right doesn't mean that someone is going to hand me a few thousand pounds. Just because it's right doesn't mean it won't be hard work.

We are a generation that give up too easily. We give up on friendships when they no longer serve us, on relationships when they reveal things about us that we don't like, on jobs when they're just too difficult, on where we live when the grass is greener on the other side. But what if the thing that is difficult, the thing that seems like it is a mountain to climb, the thing that seems impossible, what if, despite its difficulty, it's still the right thing. 

That's the shift I've had to make in my mentality. Yes, you hear those stories of people who just walk down the street and everything they need falls out of the sky and lands at their feet. But they are the exceptions. And if you know something is right, isn't it worth some work and sacrifice?

Faith or Foolishness

I'm in the process of making some big decisions. When I say big decisions, I mean "complete turnaround, no turning back, are you in or out, letting go of all life as you know it, stepping into the unknown" decisions. Let me tell you a little about my thoughts over the last few months. Well, I guess that actually, it's been years in the making.

Ever since my second year of university, I have known that I don't really want to spend the rest of my life being a physiotherapist. I don't hate it, but I have always had an inkling that it's not what I'm made for. It's not what makes me come alive. My problem, the reason that I have stayed in it is that I haven't really known what I actually want to do. I have known what my passions are, I have had glimpses of the things that make me come alive, but they have never seemed to come coherently into a career or a purpose. I mean, what do you do when you love writing but don't want to be a journalist, when you're fascinated by people but don't want to spend all day every day with them, when you're interested in the theory of health but aren't necessarily gifted at putting it into practise, when you love learning about other cultures especially first hand?

I can't tell you how I came across Medical Anthropology. I can't actually remember. All I know is that, from the instant I discovered it, it's got me hooked. I'll save you a google search and tell you what it is...basically, it's the study of how health and healthcare are affected by culture. And it combines the things that I'm interested in. I started researching it further: places I could study it, what that would involve, what I would need to do. And I started the ball rolling...

So, the last couple of months have involved filling out application forms, finding my degree certificate, asking old lecturers to write references, making enquiries about funding and a little bit of freaking out!

This morning, I got an acceptance from Edinburgh University. It's exciting! It's terrifying! It would involving moving (back) to the other side of the world after six years in New Zealand. It would involve leaving an amazingly supportive and enjoyable work environment. It would involve saying goodbye to friends who have helped hold me together. It would involve (temporarily or permanently) giving up working as a physio. And it would involve A LOT of money (we're talking about just about enough to put a deposit on a house, just for the uni fees).

I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. I feel ready to take a step off it, but what I'm wondering is, is that faith or foolishness? 

I am trying to work out if this huge step is brave or stupid. 

This is a Master's course that lasts for a year. After that, I'm not sure. At the moment, I feel like I won't actually know the next step until I take the first one. From the outside, I could see why many would think I am foolish...giving up a life I have built in a place where I am comfortable, with a stable job to pay a large amount of money to move to another city to study something that doesn't have a defined career at the end of it. Am I crazy? But on the flip side, just filling out the application forms has made me excited about it. 

When I look over the edge of the cliff, I see the darkness of uncertainty, 

but I also see the light of possibility that is shining through it.

Do you think you should take a risk just because it feels right? Is that faith? Or is it foolishness?
(This is not a rhetorical question...any thoughts are appreciated.)

What the world needs

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. 

Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. 

Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

 Howard Thurman

I spent Saturday afternoon with my good friend, Kay, starting to make a video to publicise my book when it finally comes out. The afternoon involved rolling balls of yarn, filming with an iPhone controlled by an iPad, working out how to make a question mark shadow and setting up a mini studio in Kay's lounge. 
It was not straight forward. It involved going where no ball of yarn had gone before, and I'll admit, I was a little lost. I knew what it was we trying to do. I had no idea how to do it. Kay, on the other hand, was in her element: running around with tape and cardboard and really large sheets of paper and camera equipment. If there was a problem, I could see the cogs turning until the problem was fixed.

There is something inspiring and encouraging in watching someone come alive doing the thing they love.

What do you love? What makes you come alive? Think about it...and don't just give the answers you think you should give or the answers you think would be expected from you. What is it that really makes your eyes light up and the cogs in your head start turning?

Is it talking to people? Playing rugby? Knitting? Looking after kids? Learning? Reading? Thinking big thoughts? Working out ways to make the big thoughts become reality? Cooking? Making money? Solving problems? 

I knew it was writing for me one Sunday afternoon. Sundays used to be my writing time. After a family Sunday roast, I would go to my room and start writing. At that stage, I was writing about my experiences in South Africa. I would write and write and write and I wouldn't notice the time go by. One Sunday, all I remember is looking at my clock and seeing that it was 9pm and I had no idea where the day had gone. I had been writing for about seven hours and loving every second of it.

I've tried to fit myself into little boxes where I think my passions should belong. As a physio, I should love listening to people's problems, I should love fixing them, I should be a problem solver. But honestly, more often than not, I struggle with those things. They don't, in any way, come naturally and they definitely don't make me come alive. I wish they did. It would make my job so much more enjoyable if they did. And for so many people, those things are the things that make them come alive. But the box they're so comfortable in is one I cannot squeeze myself into. 

Especially lately, I've seen that I actually love to learn and I love to use my writing in that. If there is something I am passionate about, I can easily sit down and write an essay or an article about it. 
I've been filling out application forms for universities over the last week (more details to come on that!) and that involves writing personal statements about why I want to study this course. It involves writing essays about current issues. It involves writing research questions. And I've actually been loving it! It makes me dream, it makes me see possibilities, it makes me see ways that I can make a difference. It makes me see that I don't have to try to fit myself into someone else's box - there is one designed for me.

And honestly, I think I am going to be of far more use to the world doing that than I am as a physio, because there is passion behind it, there is a desire to make a difference, there are dreams of changing the world. 

But that's me. I think the world needs me to learn, to research, to write. What does the world need you to do? Maybe it needs you to sing. Maybe it needs you to travel. Maybe to take photos. Maybe to play football. Maybe to make new friends. Maybe to make videos with balls of yarn.

What makes you come alive? 
DO THAT! 

That is what the world needs. 

What can I do: Give

You probably knew this one was coming, right? So, if you got past the title, well done, please stick with me a little longer.

You've probably all heard the statistics about wealth, about how much we, in the developed world have, about how little those in the developing world have. I'm sure you've all seen the appeals: the ads on TV, the emails.

And I'm sure a lot of you find it pretty easy to ignore. 

I'm not going to try to make you feel guilty about that. That's not my goal here. Frankly, if you don't want to give anything, I know that nothing I say will change that. So, I just want to tell you some things about giving, things I've learned.

1. I think one of the biggest lies we tell ourselves is

"I'll do it when I have more". 

When I'm not a student, when I'm not paying off a loan, when I'm not saving for a house or travel, when I have a better job. But, I can almost guarantee that if you don't start with however little you have, you won't start when you get a bit more, or a bit more, or a bit more. Because when will it be enough?

2. You can't give to everything. There are opportunities to give to orphans, to animals, to earthquake victims, to tsunami survivors, to refugees,to the blind, to hospitals. The options are as numerous as the problems in the world. And maybe that's one of the things that stops you. What should you give to? There's no right answer to that question, just as there's no answer to "how much should I give?" What do you care about? What are the issues that make you angry? What are the things that you want to see gone from the world? If you don't know, start thinking about it - start reading the news articles, start finding out what the issues are. If that doesn't motivate you to give, I don't know what will.

3. Keep your eyes open to what's around you. You might find that there are people in your town, in your neighbourhood, maybe even in your friendship group, that need your financial help. Just because they can't develop big advertising campaigns and may not even ask for help, doesn't mean they don't need it. 

I've done a little research and here are some sites worth looking at. There are many, many more, but I don't want to overwhelm you with a million options that you'll never look at, so here are just three sites that are worth a glance.

Charity Navigator
...this is an American site, but is useful to look at how charities rate in terms of how much donated money goes directly to those who need it, accountability, transparency etc. I just like the thought that giving doesn't have to be blind, that you can know what exactly is happening to your money.

Kiva 
...micro finance is fast becoming recognised as an effective way to give money to people who need it. It usually involves giving small loans to entrepreneurs who don't have access to banking so they can set up their business and lift themselves out of poverty. With Kiva, 100% of the money you donate goes towards the loans, which can be to farmers who need to buy fertiliser or seamstresses to buy a sewing machine or drivers to repair their vehicles.

World Vision NZ 
...World Vision in NZ has a similar programme. You can donate $25 towards a loan, which can get used over and over again. Because it is a loan, once the entrepreneur has made money with their business, they must repay the loan and then your money can be put into the next loan.

There are so many options and really, it's easy.

You can make a difference just sitting in front of your computer. 

What can I do: explore

I don't think there is any point in looking at what you can do to fight injustice if you have no desire to fight injustice. I doubt there is much that you can do if you have no knowledge of the issues and no will to see them eradicated. And it's so, incredibly easy to live our lives, our comfortable, secure lives, as if the issues don't exist. 

But they do.

And because they do, I don't think we can afford to let ourselves not care.

I am going to suggest specific ways that we can help, but I'm not going to suggest many, because I think that the way each of us will help will depend on who we are, on our skills, on our opportunities. And from the articles I've read, talks I've listened too, often I'm hearing the message that the traditional ways in which we look to help may not be working as well as we've thought they would. There have been large scale aid projects to set up irrigation in remote villages, but that haven't then been concerned with maintenance so, after a year, the village is back to square one, with no clean water. Or else, projects that haven't looked at the practicalities, for example, an organisation that provided computers to an area that had only sporadic electricity.

I don't want to sound negative, because the negativity is one of the things about these articles that gets to me. What I want to say is that we need new ideas, we need to get creative, we need to think out of the box.

So, instead of suggesting a whole lot of ways to help, I want to bring it back to one thing you can do: you can explore. 

I think that one of the most valuable things that each of us can do is to read about the problems, to talk to other people, to watch TED talks about social injustice, to watch movies or TV programmes that change our perspectives and make us open our eyes.

If we can increase our passion, that is when the ideas will start to flow. 

But it has to start with the passion.

For me, this journey was ignited almost like an explosion when I started reading "Half the Sky", a book written by two New York Times journalists on the greatest moral challenge we face in the twenty-first century. I don't know how to define what it was that lit the match that sparked the fire, all I can say is, read it and maybe you'll find out. 

If you don't want to start with a whole book, just start with the news. This week, in the New Zealand Herald, I read a story about a young girl in Pakistan who was raped and buried alive, only to dig herself out, and the police wanted nothing to do with it! I think I'm more aware of articles like this now, where previously, I probably just skipped over them and read the report on the latest All Blacks game or looked at this week's best and worst dressed. We don't have to look far for these stories, we just have to open our eyes to what is actually right in front of them. 

It seems that TED talks are all the rage now. I've only just started exploring them, but I have found some amazing, inspirational speakers out there, and hey, if reading isn't your thing, try watching instead. Don't know where to start? Here are a few I've discovered recently...

Sunitha Krishnan talks about the fight against sex slavery, having been gang-raped by eight men when she was fifteen.
Sheryl WuDunn, one of the authors of "Half the Sky" tells some of the stories of the women she has met, and where the solutions need to come from.
Kevin Bales talks about combatting modern day slavery. And if you're a more visual person, watch Lisa Kristene's talk, in which she shares photos that she has taken around the world that show slavery as it is happening today. 

So, this week, here's the challenge: watch or read just one of these things with an open mind, letting it lead your thoughts where they want to go. Let yourself be inspired, let yourself be educated. 
Maybe it will be the beginning of a new solution. 

(I'd love to know how you go on this and your thoughts...let me know how the week goes in the comments section here, or on my facebook page :) )

What I can do: Go

I don't believe that there is anything that will stir your heart and build your passion for justice and freedom than looking into the eyes of the oppressed and enslaved.


When I was seventeen, the summer before my last year of school, I went with a team of young people to the Philippines for a month. We were going to work with street kids. And how noble that sounded: heroic with a hint of undercover glamour and romanticism. 


I had images of the photos I would show to people when I returned - photos of myself surrounded by cute Asian kids as I polished my halo. 

I was going to make a difference in the world!

It didn't take me long to realise that the difference was going to be made in me. Driving to Alay Pag-asa, the home for kids rescued from the streets, after a ridiculous number of hours on a plane, the first things I noticed were the noise, the people, the chaos, the smells. Ah, the smells. Most of them, I couldn't identify. Most of them, I didn't want to. 

That month was a struggle.

One day is etched in my mind. It was over ten years ago, but I can play the scene as if I just lived it. I can remember the feelings as if they still have a hold on me.

On that day, that oppressively hot day, we followed our guides, people who worked in the Alay Pag-asa to a place where some of these kids hung out. They explained to us that mostly, these kids had run away from home, away from worse situations. The better option for them was to live on the streets.  

We first stopped in a beautifully air-conditioned mall to buy them food. The place where they hung out was at the back of the mall, beside an abandoned petrol station. As we walked towards it, they saw us coming and, recognising our guide, began to come to us. They seemed to emerge from everywhere: they came over fences, they appeared from behind walls. And just as I was getting my loving missionary face on...it all changed.

These young boys were, I would guess, between 6 and 16 and they were all wearing clothes that had so many holes in them that they may as well have not been wearung them. We noticed that they would keep ducking their heads under their threadbare shirts and as we got closer, we saw that they were sniffing glue. I remember, so clearly, the looks on their faces when their heads popped back up from their shirts vacant, glassy expressions in their eyes, eyes that looked through us rather than at us. Eyes that have no place on a 9 year old's face. 

I knew that I should have felt compassion, I knew that I should have loved them. I knew that's what I was there for. There I was, "working with street kids" and all I wanted to do was get as far away from that place and those kids as I could. I'm not proud of that feeling. And I desperately want to tell you that I overcame it and changed lives that day. But I can't, because, that day... mine was the only life changed. 

I think I have seen a swing in how we think about that kind of overseas trip. At that time, it almost seemed like a fashionable thing to do. But I noticed that, as I went through university, there was almost a feeling that it was just a lot of money that could be better spent on sending to the organisations who were already doing the work, there was a feeling that these trips were just glorified holidays, there was a feeling that maybe the trips didn't even do much to help the locals.

And I don't think that mission should be a selfish thing, but I have seen first hand the ripple effect it can have. It may have taken me years, but when I put myself back in that scene, the feelings I feel now are anger that there are not systems to help those kids, pain at knowing that 8 year olds are addicted to drugs and fire to do something about it. 

I'm not saying that I have done great works since then. What I am saying is...GO. Get on the plane, go to those places, meet those people, smell those smells and feel the pain that they are feeling.               

Because I think that may be one of the best

ways to begin changing the world: 

putting yourself in a position where 

you first allow the world to change you.

What's going on out there?

As I write I'm sitting on my big double bed with the cat asleep on my lap. I've just had a big breakfast of three different types of cereal and some freshly ground coffee. Later, I'm going to take a drive out to the beach, go for a bit of a walk. On Monday, I will go to work, in a good job. I live in a country where there are systems in place that mean I will be looked after if unimaginable things happen. 

Life is comfortable.

I know I can't make generalisations and I don't know the situations facing all of you who read this, but I imagine that most of you are living in similar circumstances. Most of you have a bed to sleep in, most of you had a good breakfast this morning. Most of you are surrounded by stuff: some things that you need, a lot that you don't.

And often, in the midst of that, it's easy to 

forget that there are millions of people 

for whom reality looks very different.

In India, there is Meena, who was kidnapped and taken to a brothel when she was 8. There, she was beaten with sticks and rods and threatened with death if she didn't do what the brothel owners told her. When she escaped and went to the local police station, the police mocked her and sent her away.

In Ethiopia, Woineshet was kidnapped and raped by a man who wanted to marry her. This is common practice in Ethiopia for men who know they will not be accepted by the girl's family or cannot afford the dowry. The rape disgraces the girl, making it unlikely that she will be able to find someone to marry, therefore almost forcing her into a marriage with her rapist. The law says that a rapist cannot be prosecuted if their victim later marries them.

In Congo, the soldiers see it as their right to violate girls. Dina was in her mid teens when she was raped by five men, and then had a stick shoved inside her, causing horrendous internal damage.

In Cameroon, Prudence had no prenatal cate. When she came to give birth, the baby couldn't come out and after three days in labour, her birth assistant sat on her stomach to try to force it out. This caused Prudence's uterus to rupture. She was eventually taken to hospital but her family couldn't afford the price of the emergency caesarean. She and her baby died.

Even as I write these things, the thoughts that enter my mind are along the lines of, "maybe I shouldn't say that, maybe that's too brutal to tell, maybe that will make people uncomfortable", but what I'm realising is that maybe we need to be made uncomfortable. It is too easy for us to switch off, to block those things out because they are not in front of us but we need to know what is going on in the world, this same world that we live in.

Through most of these stories, one of the things that overwhelms and kind of scares me is the lack of help from the authorities. Here, in NZ, I know that if something terrible happens, there are systems of justice, systems that help. But in many of those countries, there is no one. And I think that's one of the reasons it is so vital that we get involved. Someone has to help. Over the next few weeks, I'd like to look at what that looks like. 

For now, if you take nothing else from this, take this: horrendous things happen every day to people who are people, just like us. Those things have to stop and that means that we have to stop ignoring them. 

*Stories taken from 'Half the Sky' by Nicholas D Kristof and Sheryl Wudunn. Read it.