The magic in the mess

This has become my annual holiday post. I share it because I need the reminder that we are not alone in the mess. Every year as I think about my own life and reflect upon what my family and what many of the people around me are going through this Christmas, it’s clear that struggle doesn’t take off for the holidays. The gremlins don’t go on vacation. Checks bounce, chemotherapy appointments are scheduled, interventions are planned, relationships keep unravelling, being alone feels even lonelier, parents negotiate who will have the kids on Christmas morning, and the “never enoughs” are in full swing. As I prepare to spend the next few days with my family and friends I come back to this: I will find my holiday magic in the mess. I will practice love and gratitude with the special group of folks who keep showing up and loving me, not despite my vulnerabilities, but because of them.  – Brenè Brown


To wake up with the man I love to the sound of kookaburras singing. To sit with my coffee in the softness of a Queensland summer breeze. To play carols and sing tone deaf at the top of my lungs. To swim in the sea. To make a castle out of butterfly sheets draped over kitchen chairs and wear matching butterfly tattoos with my five year old bestie. To wear robins and holly sprigs in my hair. To decorate our Christmas Tree with a gratitude list. To get caught in a summer downpour. To go on a Christmas date night to see the Force Awakens with my fella, who made a light sabre out of an umbrella and surprised me with the theme song queued up for the drive. To see wild monarch butterflies. To be a part of the Compassion Collective and stand with love. To watch the full moon rise. To read new books under a black wattle tree. To randomly bump into a beloved friend I haven’t seen for a year and hug her tight. To write outdoors by grevillea flowers on a carpet of gum leaves. To watch three ducklings hatch from their eggs and nurture them. To feel the magic in the mess. To crack an icy cold beer with my beautiful mum, hold her hand, get rip snorting giggles and laugh together until it hurt.

On Christmas night, these are things I’m deeply grateful for.

I hope you have found or do find peace and magic in your day. I wish you everything you wish for yourself.

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