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Devi Abraham

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This is my sister and my niece in Afghanistan a fe

This is my sister and my niece in Afghanistan a few years ago. These are my sister’s words:

3 years ago I set foot on Afghan soil. It was, and is, the privilege of a lifetime. It's a nation like no other… and it totally won my heart.

Today, this nation has fallen back into the hands of oppressive rulers. Vulnerable people will be killed, women taken as brides, and children die of starvation. Millions are displaced, desperate for hope and a way out.

If you are reading these words, can I ask you to stop and act?

1. If you are a praying person - PRAY. Gather your friends & family and cry out to our good and gracious Father who defends the defenceless and upholds the cause of the weak. We will one day hear the untold stories of his answers.

2. Call your Afghan friends and listen to their pain. They are suffering unbelievable anxiety and stress as they watch these events unfold. Mourn with them and share their suffering. A friend shared recently how their suffering eased as we simply “shared” it with her, listening and weeping along with her.
.....

3. Write your local government authorities. If you’re in Australia, write your local MP. Tell them that they need to act urgently to save Afghan lives. Shabnam Safa and others have created a template you can use: https://saveafghanistannow.good.do/contact/mp/
.....

4. Give your money to help in this crisis. We all have the capacity to give something. This will take you to a compilation of Afghan-led organisations that are helping people on the ground right now. https://linktr.ee/AfghanistanNeedsYou

To give to UNHCR: https://www.unrefugees.org.au/campaigns/afghanistan-crisis/

To give to Shelter Now International, an organisation we have seen first-hand. 98.5% of your donation will go directly to field work: https://www.shelternow.org.au/donate

Afghanistan. Land of beauty and mystery. You are not a pawn in someone else's chess game. You are a nation dearly loved. Your ground is hallowed, your people - a treasure. Your suffering is our suffering. We will not look away.

(Links in this post will be in the link in my bio)

I have to tell you that reading Unclean by Profess

I have to tell you that reading Unclean by Professor Richard Beck was one of those come to Jesus moments for me. The short story is please listen to this week's @wheredowegopod episode, but for a slightly longer story, read on.

One of the central ideas in Beck's book is this one: Metaphors are not created equal. The metaphors we listen to, inhabit, yes even embody are shaping our lives. This is the ache of a generation of young people who were taught about sex and relationships from the perspective of you're a chewed up piece of gum once you've had sex, you're a rose with petals plucked off, a piece of cake and each slice is a part of you given away to people.

There's a reason why many of us who abandoned those beliefs years ago can't just shake the feeling that somehow we got used up (fun fact: Women who only dated the one man and "saved sex for marriage" also feel this way after marriage).

It's because the metaphors stick.

Friends, I have so much to say about this, and I struggle for the words but I'm going to try.

One of the projects of a new adulthood, of a refreshed imagination is the project of new metaphors. This applies to everything: education, government, politics, art, culture, music, religion, everything.

It is the calling to dig into the dirt of a mountainside to find a gleaming gem.

It is to surrender to the force of gravity that keeps our feet planted on earth.

It is to take the old, the tired, the broken ways of the world, draw it close to ourselves to nurture and care for and rebuild a better future.

If you look at your life and wonder what happened, if you look at the faith you had and question why it left, can I gently suggest you pay attention to the metaphors? Maybe the metaphors that shaped you also left you stuck.

May you find the wide and green pastures where your soul can rest. May you find a well where the water doesn't run dry.

I want us to join together in this metaphor project. Tell me a metaphor in the comments that brings you joy and freedom, and share this post with your friends so they can join too. Post about it too and use #thebettermetaphorsproject

#thelifechangingmagicofgrowingup

TW: Miscarriage A few years ago we watched Mary P

TW: Miscarriage

A few years ago we watched Mary Poppins Returns in the cinema, and there's a scene near the middle where the Banks children break a bowl of their dead mother's. It's a crushing disappointment, a reminder that their mother is gone. Mary Poppins sings them "The Place Where the Lost Things Go," with these central lines:

Nothing's gone forever, only out of place.
—-
In March I found out that I was pregnant. Unexpectedly. Very, very unexpectedly. And in April, on Good Friday, I started miscarrying.

It was a strange, sad experience, one that was made sweeter by my parents being here and able to stay with our boys while my husband and I spent the day in a hospital. Friends and family here prayed, brought flowers and gifts. A reminder that our life in Melbourne is what I hoped it would be when we moved here nearly six years ago.

Loss is part of the human experience, one that connects us. I'm guessing you're reading this with your own set of losses in hand: a baby, a marriage, friends, a keepsake, church, health, a home, your faith.

There is now all we lost in our pandemic year (and continue to lose). Weddings that aren’t what they were supposed to be, connection with others, jobs, sanity, control.

Are you looking for the lost thing? Searching for a replacement? Figuring out how to rebuild your life without it?

What if it isn't gone forever, only out of place?

What if that lost, precious thing is a seed flung into the ground. Not lost. But somewhere.

Some seeds grow. Some grow much later than we think. And some die, its tiny structure decomposing into the ground, becoming part of the raw material that will nurture and grow future seeds and plants.

What if the lost things are an extended eternal hand, inviting you to believe again.

The story isn’t finished. You will live again.

#thelifechangingmagicofgrowingup

What can’t you say out loud? Here’s mine: I l

What can’t you say out loud?

Here’s mine: I love home making.

Like many of you (see stories), I come to it as the inheritance of being an evangelical woman. The pinnacle was homemaking, the care and feeding of a husband and children, but this vision restricted and stifled. It left out singles, making the orbit of community around the haves (money, family, literal houses) leaving the have nots to be participants instead of initiators.

When making a home is about only the success of the nuclear family, it trains our gaze inward. Our kids, our rights, our life.

But.

Still.

Turning my love into food, space, beauty and attention is life giving for me in a way I didn’t expect.

I still believe the home is a place of healing, nurture, and nourishment, a vital place for the formation and flourishing of society.

But whom we “allow” to be a home maker says everything about our vision for the home.

Is there space here for singles, for varied abilities, for men, for the poor?

An expansive vision for community life means so much more than the elevation of the nuclear family. It’s making a family wherever you are. It is being family for whomever is around. It’s him, her, they. It is wheelchairs and chronic illness, singles and partners, it is a banquet, and it is rice and dhal.

This is the home we can make wherever we go, whomever we are.

Ok your turn. What can’t you say out loud? Tell us in the comments.

It’s Devi, the 2000 edition at 18 years old. I’ve been thinking about her because of my 20 year high school reunion last weekend, which was delightful. I’ve been thinking about the ways we grow, but also the ways we carry our past selves with us wherever we go.

I can still reach back and touch the acne and the bandana-induced headache, and I want to tel her...

When clothes hurt, you need new clothes.

Your skin is too dark for Maybelline foundation. Sorry.

Pay attention to the quiet ones. They’ve got something to say.

Pay attention to the loud ones. They aren’t saying everything.

Pay attention. It’s one of the gifts you give others.

There’s a difference between acting stupid and being unkind. Teenagers are allowed to be stupid. No one needs to be unkind.

You’re moving from having almost no control over your life to having choices. There’s no way to get decisions right without practice, so mistakes are coming.

It won’t be as bad as you think.

Almost always your worst fears do not come true.

The few times they do - deep rejections, crushed dreams - you discover it’s not as bad as you thought.

You’ve done it now. It is no longer a fear.

The absence of fear leads to the presence of real boundaries.

You won’t know what needs protection when fear is the only voice in the room.

Love involves sacrifice, but not all sacrifice is love.

It’s going to be ok.

It’s going to be ok.

It’s going to be ok.

Alright friends, your turn. What does your younger self need to hear?

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