I used to be a quilter. I made bed quilts, wall quilts, table runners.
Then I jumped to knitting and crochet. I made dish cloths, dinosaurs and rugs. 
In between all of that, I've tackled my outside spaces with varying degrees of success. I call myself a wanna-be-gardener because I don't really know what I'm doing. What I grow well seems to have more to do with the plant itself than my skills as a gardener. And watering regularly would probably help a lot (a lesson I'm learning the hard way as my favourite lychee tree dies. Waaaaa!).
But even without developing my expertise, there's a promise in gardening that has nothing to do with me. A promise of growth, of new things, of hope perhaps. And ​I think it's pottering with this promise that keeps me at it. 

I'm in the US at the moment. Perched in a rocking chair in the second floor bedroom of my friend's house. I'm in Texas, but I've just come from North Carolina, and before that I was back home in Australia. It's been a whirlwind couple of weeks of conference prep, travel, catching up with friends and now the down-time before another conference next week. I'm exhausted. But I'm also conscious that this is precious time. Time to take stock and stash my suitcase full of memories so I won't forget. 

​Those who receive my author newsletter have probably heard a little about some of the other writing projects I've been working on in the background to my part-time PhD. I tend to have a few projects on the go at the same time even as I chip away at the big ones. This way of working, however, does have its challenges because the more projects you have on the go, the more ups and downs you encounter, as well as multiple versions of uncertainty.
And here's the thing, uncertainty is just part of the game when it comes to creative pursuits. We make, we hope, we dream, we build and then - with tentative imaginations and wistful expectations - we send that creativity out into the world.

A spindly branch of wattle blossoms from the bushland at the end of my street. And a spindly 'think' from my journal where I'm musing about faith and trust and the Refiner's work of love.

***   ​

You
meet me
where the heart is aching.
You
hold me
​when the cracks begin to show.​