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Learning to welcome fear without letting it tell the whole story I have just got a delivery of books from Ireland. It has come at the perfect time, a particular book was enclosed I've been waiting for, by a favourite author who I have read and read again, sought out his soothing accent on podcasts and even listened to him on audio books to put me to sleep while I had an extended stay in hospital last year. His Belfast accent had an uncanny way of making me feel safe. The book

Becoming a Citizen: What Does It Mean to Belong? This week, after 23 years of living in this beautiful country of Aotearoa New Zealand, I became a New Zealand citizen. There was something unexpectedly thought provoking about saying the words, taking the oath, and receiving the certificate. I arrived here carrying the accent, memories, stories and landscape of another country within me. And now Aotearoa New Zealand is not simply the place where I live. It is home. At least, I

Heraclitus is often credited with the saying that we cannot step into the same river twice. The river may look the same. The rocks may still be beneath our feet. The trees may still lean over its banks. The water may still be cold enough to make us gasp. But the water has moved on. And so have we. This weekend, we are away as a family to celebrate my husband’s birthday. There have been new places to explore, new views to take in, a river or two cold enough that we will stand

Last week I spent some time learning about a part of pottery I had never really understood before—fettling. Fettling is the process of trimming, smoothing and cleaning up rough edges. It is the work that follows the shaping: removing the unnecessary, softening the sharp places and refining what has already been formed. As I sat with my piece of clay, I couldn’t help wondering whether fettling is also a metaphor for life. How often do we become preoccupied with our own rough e

What Can We See in the Dark? I’ve never liked the dark, as a child I was scared of the dark ,and as an adult, I still like to see the light. The past year there have been some pretty foggy moments, and something I have become particularly familiar with has been the feeling of waiting - the lingering. There is a particular kind of waiting that comes with a diagnosis - The blood tests, scan results, and the quiet spaces between appointments. It is a waiting that asks questions

Have you ever stopped to consider your relationship with time? This weekend is Matariki weekend in Aotearoa New Zealand. Matariki is the Māori new year, a time of reflection and remembering those who have passed and expressing gratitude and celebrating life. We have just had a celebration as a family. John and I travelled up to Auckland to celebrate with Luke and his friends for his 21st birthday. We didn't just celebrate the birthday but got to appreciate his new adult life,

How I label things is how I see them. Lately I've found myself sitting with a simple thought How I label things is how I see them. The labels come so quickly that I often don't notice them. This person is difficult . That situation is unfair. This day is stressful. Once I've given something a label , my mind begins collecting evidence to prove it true. Before long. I find myself living inside the story I've created rather than the reality that's unfolding. Ive been reading so

Everything does NOT happen for a reason A friend of mine has stage 4 cancer. She is young. Far too young for words like "terminal" or "palliative" or "time-limiting." She still believes in miracles. She still prays, she still hopes. And honestly? So do I. But somewhere underneath the prayer sits the aching question none of us can escape. Why does a young woman get a killer cancer while others live long and uncomplicated lives? Why do children suffer? Why do good people bury t

Im Oamaru , public debate is growing louder. The district councils proposed rates increase has created understandable anxiety and frustration for many people. Rising costs affect real lives. People feel stretched , worried, and unheard. These conversations matter. But so does the way we speak to each other while we disagree. Recently, online spaces have begun to harden into "us and them" groups. Councillors are being vilified. Community members are being mocked or dismissed .

I recently found myself invited to speak at a gathering. Understanding it was about the extraordinary year I had journeyed through — illness, survival, transformation, and all the unexpected ways suffering reshapes a person — I happily agreed. We confirmed a date and exchanged warm messages. As the conversation unfolded, it became clear there were certain topics that sat outside the comfort of the community I would be speaking with. Nothing confrontational was said, yet I fou

I have learned a lot over the past year, but one of the most surprising lessons is that we can find God / the Divine / the Sacred in the most unsuspecting places. This has led me on a journey of exploring what the Celtic tradition calls 'thin places'. Thin Places Thin places aren't nicely labelled on Google Maps. They are the geographical places that become special to us — often in a collective sense — because of mysterious Divine encounter. You can call this whatever you wan

There is something very honest about clay. I sat at the pottery wheel today, a new hobby in the past couple of years. As I practise, I bring all of myself to it: steady but messy hands, distracted thoughts, hope, frustration, curiosity, exasperation. It simply works with what I bring to it, and sometimes that is a real disaster. Lately, the clay has been teaching me how much pottery mirrors life. Especially how joy and pain can co-exist. We are often taught, subtly or directl

I marked the final step in saying goodbye to my treatments earlier this week. My Hickman line was removed, the line which loyally provided my body chemotherapy (and many other medications) via my superior vena cava. What is usually a straightforward, minor 20-minute surgery turned into a more complicated two-hour procedure. My body didn’t seem willing to let it go. The surgeon needed to do more work than expected to extricate the Hickman from my chest. Being awake and in suc

This Easter season arrives at a time when the political state of the world feels in turmoil. Division is loud, fuel prices have hit us all, financial insecurity and pressure is increasing. Compassion sometimes feels quieter than it once did. For those of us who hold the invitation of Easter — to love our neighbour — it can feel confusing. How do we remain open-hearted in a world that seems increasingly reactive? How do we care for others without losing ourselves in the proces

Welcome to this small corner of reflection. This blog begins after a year that has reshaped me in ways I could never have planned. My year traditionally starts with Hannah (my daughter) and I discussing what word we are going to ponder for the year. Last year I chose a sentence: “With expectation comes disappointment, choose gratitude.” I could not have imagined how important gratitude would become in the year that has just passed. May 2025 began with a very surprising leukae