Scones and Gulls
Today we drove around the coastline of Christchurch, ambling slowly toward Sumner, a beautiful little town tucked beneath steep, floral cliffs. It’s day three in a row of parking in the same spot under the cliff and wandering toward a bustling seaside café, complete with a flock of seagulls sitting attentively, waiting for precious scone crumbs. Loud seagulls, I might add.
Oh, and about the scones. What a small thrill to order something and have it arrive exactly as you pictured it in your head. A simple pleasure, but a profound one, complete with a blob of butter ready to spread. It sets the morning off just right.
After sipping half my flat white and waving goodbye to my husband and daughter as they head for the playground, I move inside for what has now become Immigration Station: my makeshift desk where I attempt to tame the growing pile of paperwork, sort out police checks and notary appointments, and juggle a number of consulate communications. Quite the morning template.
This is the part of moving internationally where the details really matter. And if you know me, you know I’m not a details person. But in order to get where we need to go, they have to be sorted. So here I sit, rifling through papers, praying I don’t miss something important that could cost us dearly.
We all have spaces in life where we’re not naturally gifted or even remotely good. And we live in a world where events unfold daily that can weigh heavily on us, sometimes bringing real mental pressure. Some ways of approaching these situations drain the energy right out of us, while other approaches help us journey through without losing all will to live. Long sigh.
This week, seated at my little immigration station, I’ve been keeping two important things front and centre:
1. Gratitude for the past
Gratitude looks back. It’s about recognizing that we’ve faced hard situations before, and yet God has been faithful to walk us through them, lighting the way and making sure we came out the other side. We practice gratitude when we notice that in all things, we’ve learned something valuable and grown more mature.
This way of seeing requires us to keep choosing to believe that God is intimately involved in our everyday lives, that he cares enough to be present in the hard things. And that’s not always simple. It means acknowledging that he has been there even when he hasn’t stepped in to stop or change what we were going through. That’s a difficult tension to hold. But hold it we must, because we don’t know it all. We’re not carrying the weight of an infinite balance with each person in mind. How could we? But he does.
2. Positivity rooted in trust
Positivity looks ahead, but it can’t just be positivity for its own sake. It means choosing to face an unknown future with trust that God intends good for us. The things looming on the horizon - whether harsh, dark, or uncertain - will always be used for good.
This calls us to believe that God is still good. That can be hard to cling to when life knocks the breath out of us or feels overwhelmingly troubling. We have to remember that our perspective will never be as complete as God’s, and there will always be things we cannot understand. Yet even then, we look forward in trust, holding to his goodness.
As Fernando Sabino put it: “Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”
This week, this month, this past year, it has all been deeply troubling. The unrest, the wars, the lack of love and thoughtfulness we see around us can feel like too much. But in the midst of my own small trouble, this pesky paperwork, the best way I’ve practiced gratitude and positivity has been to sit in a lovely café I may never return to, soaking in the view of the beach, the gulls, the cliffs, the people. Enjoying the buttery scones. Reminding myself that even if the paperwork is mind-boggling, my office this week has been nothing short of spectacular.
Truly, God is good. And thankfully, so is the coffee.
