I love the old heater in the hallway.

The familiar noise of the dusty old heater in the hallway is very comforting for me. It's such a sudden and loud blast of warm air that whenever it starts up again between half hour intervals, you are always having to adjust the volume to the music you're listening to.
And then just as soon as you forget the heater is blasting, the timer turns it off and the hallway is quickly filled with silence again. And then you find yourself wondering how you were listening to your music at such a loud volume.

When the heater's off for half an hour in between its rushes of warm air, I almost miss its noise. It's warmth, yes, definitely. But the noise comforts me.
Suddenly, just before you start to feel the chill set in, you can hear the uneven clicking sound of the heater getting ready to be fired up again. The clicking becomes more rhythmic and goes a faster pace the closer it is to blasting more air. even that sound is comforting.

It's funny, because these noises I'm describing, I'm almost certain would not be comforting to anyone else at all. It's literally a loud blast of heat, and literally a continuous clicking noise as it gets ready to start the loud blast all over again.
But this heater is older than I am, and I've literally grown up with its familiar sounds being a natural part of my life.
It sounds like Autumn or Winter, or blankets, pillows and warm clothes. Or hot milos and dressing gowns. Or lying in the hallway with a Christy Miller book. Or sitting against my brother's old room's door and snuggling with my cat. Or even the sound of me drying my wet hair after I'd hop out of the shower as a younger version of me.

Funny how all these thoughts among many other ones came flooding back the moment I turned the heater on. Funny how you never really notice that heater during Summer or Spring. It's always standing there in the hallway, collecting more dust, if that is even possible with the prize-winning collection it already has. It goes untouched for a whole two seasons, and with it, all these thoughts and memories.
I know I have complained more than a few times about living in the same house my entire life. But I feel a little privileged to be able to have these kinds of nostalgic moments, just by simply turning an old heater on.

It has been nice, thinking about the heater. I'm not entirely sure why I have written thoughts about a heater into a blog post, but I guess that's okay. Shouldn't I be writing about something actually worth reading? Then again, it's actually refreshing to put a little more thought than necessary into some inanimate object that doesn't gain me a high VCE score or any kind of A grade.
It's just me thinking about nothing important. I like to think we need a little bit of nonsense and irrelevance in our lives. Sometimes, thoughts about irrelevant old heaters help keep me a little more sane.

Salvation is Forever.

A seminar video made quickly for my Vetamorphus course of Christian Ministry and Theology.

The Greatest of These.

Sooner or later we begin to understand that love is more than verses on valentines and romance in the movies.
We begin to know that love is here and now, real and true, the most important thing in our lives.
For love is the creator of our favourite memories, and the foundation of our fondest dreams.
Love is a promise that is always kept, a fortune that can never be spent, a seed that can flourish in even the most unlikely of places.
And this radiance that never fades, this mysterious and magical joy, is the greatest treasure of all- one known only by those who love.

"Three things will last forever- faith, hope, and love- and the greatest of these, is love."
- 1 Corinthians 13:13

Look up at the rain.

Daisy, give yourself away
Look up at the rain, the beautiful display
Of power and surrender
Giving us today
When she gives herself away.
Rain, another rainy day.
Comes up from the ocean, to give herself away
She comes down easy
On rich and debt the same
When she gives herself away

Pain, give yourself a name
Call yourself contrition
Avarice, or blame
Giving isn't easy
Neither is the rain
When she gives herself away
Daisy, why another day?
Why another sunrise?
Who will take the blame
For all redemptive motion
And every rainy day
When he gives himself away.

Let it go
Daisy, let it go
Open up your fist
This fallen world
Doesn't hold your interest
It doesn't hold your soul
Daisy, let it go.
Let it go.

We forget,

He is right here.

The beauty of Grace is that it makes life not fair.

This life sentence that I'm serving, I admit that I'm every bit deserving.
But the beauty of Grace is that it makes life not fair.

I fought You for so long, I should've let You in.
Oh, how we regret those things we do.
And all I was trying to do, was save my own skin...
But so were You.

Rambling about Trust.

There are a few ideas going on inside me right now.
Whether they are happening in my heart, or in my mind, or just as some weird chemical unbalance in my brain, I do not know.
It's like the space between all thought and all feeling, and I can't seem to determine which category these ideas belong to.
But I do know that whatever ideas are happening are happening too quickly for me to grasp and understand fully.
And I am slowly becoming restless.

The only kind of category I can box these ideas into is the category about life in the future, and... and that's it I think.
It is sort of like I know what kind of moments I'd strive to have in my living time on earth, but I couldn't say how they would come about, or how I'd go about myself to bring them about. Which is where the beauty of trusting in the Lord comes in, right?
He is the one directing me on this uncertain path that is my life.
However, the strange thing is this:
Instead of having just a little part of my path lit up close to my feet, and the rest still in the dark so that I can only take small steps to understand the rest, it feels the other way around.
It seems like there is a part of my path lit up further down the road, but I haven't gotten there yet. And I would like to, but the path directly in front of me is in the dark, so I cannot see how to get there.

This is where those uncertain ideas are coming into play.
They could be prompts from the Lord, nudging me in His direction, and showing me which steps to take.
But then I can't see these ideas properly. They are just out of focus.
I guess I could just resort to the word "yet"...
I can't see the ideas properly... yet.
I hope that's all I need to say right now. I guess if not, He'll tell me otherwise.

* * * * *

So after the rambling is done, and I have achieved not all that much out of this post, I feel at least a little settled, being able to lay down the ideas neatly (as neatly as I can) in a way that makes (as much) sense (as I could).
At least I feel at ease with waiting. Until my Saviour tells me otherwise, I'll be right here, listening for my next instruction. Now with my ideas a little more settled, I'm all good.
I believe there can be times in life where we are meant to stand still.

He's coming.

For we, we are not long here.
Our time is but a breath, so we better breathe it.
And I, I was made to live, I was made to love, I was made to know You.
Hope is coming for me.
Hope, He’s coming.

Come and See, He makes all things new.

Thank you my Lord, my Saviour, for giving Your life for me.
I am living my life completely & entirely for You.
For You & You alone, Lord God.
For You & You alone.