It’s Friday. It’s the last working day before I take a week off. Tress arrives tonight. Mum and Sim arrive in Sydney on Sunday morning. Tress and I will make an early drive up to Sydney to pick them up to then head down to Canberra. From Sunday afternoon onwards, we’d all have a few days together in Canberra, with Kiddo’s graduation on Tuesday being the highlight of the week. We’re all looking forward to this – it will be such a special experience from so many perspectives.

Late on Thurs/Friday arvo Kiddo and I took LBJ for a walk. We were both excited at our own and each other’s prospects – she with her PhB secured and me with the new role to look forward to. It was a corner turning week for us.

I had a terrible back pain on Saturday morning. It was the second debilitating back problem since I started my Canberra role. It is almost as if my Canberra chapter is book ended by back pains.

So I stayed in the apartment, moaning and groaning as I struggled to make breakfast late in the morning. I wasn’t hungry but needed to eat something in order to then take some ibuprofen. By about early in the afternoon I could move more freely and so had a shower and did my laundry. After that it was just a series of attempts to limber up as I ambulated between the couch and the bedroom, making dozens of trips in order to “keep moving”, which is apparently better than bed rest.

That night Kiddo cooked a steak dinner and we talked to Tress on video conferencing. Later we all watched a movie on Netflix. “Naked amongst wolves” was a story about the last days of a Nazi concentration camp. As is the case with movies of this genre, tales of evil regime, depravity are interspersed with demonstration of individual triumphs of courage and humanity. It is a fallen world indeed but the Lord has commenced the work of redemption and will complete it , one day.

On Sunday morning the back pain  was better but stiffness still reigned and it was still very sore. With the help of a couple of ibuprofen pills however I managed to get to Good Shepherd Anglican at Curtin. At the end of the service the musos were signing “Mary did you know”

Back at the apartment after church,   I searched out the Pentatonix rendition on youtube and played it on our tele. It was great and Kiddo was hooked too and we created a playlist of that group’s Christmas carols. Putting away the laundry and ironing was much less painful with that kind of music playing. After that Kiddo went out and I just hung around and tried to do light activities to ease the back strain.

I ended the weekend early and went to bed before 10pm. It would be the last weekend before a flurry of activities leading up to Christmas and 2016. The year is accelerating towards its end, and ironically I’m kind of wanting it to slow down so I can remember what it felt like to have gone through the second half of 2015 in such uncharted territories…

6 months to the day, today. 6 long months ago I walked into the office here at the National Blood Authority and started work on a 12 month contract. They offered me a 9 month contract but I negotiated a 12 month term. I often thought – or more accurately, wondered if – I should have negotiated down to a 6 month contract instead.

So here I am at the half way mark.

Release into the masses

2 days ago my boss came into my room to say he has some bad news for me. I thought they were going to say there is no more funding for the second half of my contract, or something to that effect. Instead, the bad news was that I had to give up my office for a project team working on a new business case for more funding for some specific project.

That isn’t entirely bad news. I have been lonely on too many occasions and being out there amongst other colleagues in the open plan pod system would alleviate that to a large extent. That is probably worth the price of a loss of privacy.

So when I return after the weekend, I’d be back to the open plan system again – something I had been used to for so long already anyway, before I started this role, 6 months ago.

So I might spend some time on this the last day of total privacy in my own office reflecting on the last 6 months.

How has it been in Washington?

(Not quite the same scenario as Jimmy Stewart in “Mr Smith Goes to Washington” but coming to Canberra to work provides fertile ground for puns so what the heck…)

I took on this job for 2 reasons.

I thought – Tress thought too – that it would be good to reconnect with Kiddo. Having left home in 2012, we (I) had felt her life was on a trajectory that is taking her away from us. The connection had thinned out and I felt we were losing touch with what was going on in her life.

The second reason was the bird in hand reason. Accepting this work rather than hoping for another role in Melbourne felt like the conservative and therefore right decision. Especially given the former and most probably the dominant reason of reconnecting with Kiddo.

Second reason

Once I had accepted the role, I stopped looking for work. There were a couple of interviews I attended before eventually coming to Canberra but those were developments of leads that had initiated prior to my acceptance of the NBA role. The latter interviews were in fact from Canberra via teleconferencing which I felt didn’t go too well. My mind was in a different space from when I came to Canberra and the medium of Skype just didn’t do it for me. I’d like to believe that had I remained in Melbourne, those developments might have taken on a more positive direction but one can keep guessing I suppose.

The work in NBA has been interesting for the most part but my frame of mind remains that this is a temporary role. This remains the governing factual circumstance. Given that, I want to – have always wanted to – find a role in Melbourne, where home is and where I want to live and for as long as the Lord would let me. If the NBA gives me any indication that this might turn into a permanent role I might re frame my outlook but at this moment given the factual circumstance, my desire is to return to Melbourne.

Main (first) reason

Reconnecting with Kiddo has been by and large a positive experience. Seeing her interact with her study group, social circles, church and church related (FOCUS) circles, has provided glimpses into her mind, heart and maybe soul. I have been grateful for this privilege.

Seeing her vocation pulling into focus towards (hopefully) academia has also been helpful to give myself comfort as to what she would be doing with her life, work wise. The alternative of doing any available public service work would likely prove more mechanically drifting but would none the less provide me with comfort in the knowledge that life will happen for her. I would not have been able to see this development with the clarity or assurance I now have had I remained in Melbourne so I am grateful.

Then there’s the 600lb gorilla sitting in the corner. Or more commonly used these days: The elephant in the room.

Mic is a fine young man. After sitting down with him for dinner (1:1) several months ago however, I asked myself what sort of man I had envisaged my daughter ending up dating. I have to be honest and say Mic would not have been that man. That man would have likely been one not battling with being underweight. Neater hair, fleshier face. Doesn’t walk with a swaying hip and way less effeminate. Doesn’t have a propensity for brown pants and brown shoes. Doesn’t talk with an American accent. Doesn’t come from a large (huge) family. Doesn’t slurp his beverages and generally makes less noise while eating. That man would not have been impulsive and would have a cooler and more deliberate judgment of actions and decisions.

It’s sometimes good to quickly deal with the negatives first. Therapeutic even.

That man I envisaged would have been someone who loves the Lord – tick. Intelligent – tick. Serious with his work – tick (I think). He would have been contemplative and thoughtful: Half tick and tick. Courteous – tick. Respectful – tick, probably. Witty – tick. Larrikin and often politically incorrect – no tick there – at all. Loves spectator sport – again, no tick there.

While an elephant in the room, what I think of Mic and where he is in my balance sheet is of no/far less consequence. What Kiddo thinks of him and where he is in her balance sheet is what really counts so I guess if she can deal with all of those issues or they don’t matter/matter less to her, that is the real 600lb gorilla sitting in the corner. But I guess that is a matter she/they have already resolved. My only wish is she/they would let her/their vocations land on a more settled spot/trajectory before they plan their next phase in life.

So in many ways the re-connection agenda has been met. Yet it is as though I remain an observer. While grateful to have been permitted to so observe, I have not felt as though I have re-entered her life. I am more a flatmate than a father. I remain alone in that sense. I feel as though my family is in Melbourne. Even though my daughter is here in Canberra, living in an apartment I share with her, I seldom feel I have family in Canberra. In that sense the re-connection agenda remains an “open item”.

I long for a positive element in my Canberra experience, which I can write home about. Maybe that is why I remain without prospect job wise, in Melbourne. Perhaps I am meant to remain in Canberra for the next 6 months to see out my contract so that the re-connection agenda can be closed. I just need something to clutch on to I guess.

Kiddo and I picked Tress up from the airport around 8pm on Friday night and it was great to have all 3 of us – 4 including LBJ – in the apartment that night. As always, it didn’t matter where we were. It was the same small apartment where I have often been alone and miserable. As long as we were together it felt great.

Saturday morning after breakfast while we were getting ready to go and attend a property inspection in Latham, Tress said she read a breaking news alert. There had been some shootings in Paris. As I turned on the television, the horror of what happened began to unfold.

Morte Morte

Earlier this year – maybe in Feb/Mar – I had turned my facebook to an idle mode of some sort and changed my id to Morte Morte. It was in the wake of all the senseless deaths and killings at that time. Shootings in the Charlie Hebdo publication office in Paris, suicide bombings killing dozens in Nigeria, Yemen and Somalia, shootings in mosques in Pakistan and elsewhere, the list goes on and on.

In the midst of my search for work and dealing with redundancy – being alone for the most part – these senseless killings depressed me. I guess when you’re busy running on the daily treadmill grinds, reading these horrific incidents become easier to deal with when you have people you can talk to, digest, process and land on some mutually held albeit disconsolate ground. When you read these things alone and life prospect isn’t all that flash having been made redundant with no new role in sight, I withdrew into a “why bother” mode.

We went to a Chinese place in Macquarie and had yum cha around noon on Saturday. Dumpling Inn was just next to a bookshop known as the Asia Bookroom, which we visited and Kiddo bought a book. The lady manning the shop is a British who married a Malaysian and lived in Singapore for many years. She – Lynette – said she had been reading Rehman Rashid’s Malaysian Journey as well as another book on the BMF scandal. I said to her I worked for a lawyer (Chooi) who was tasked with investigating that scandal. It was weird having a conversation with a stranger in Macquarie ACT, on matters so close to what was once home. The conversations over yum cha on the Paris attacks – as we checked on our phones for updates – and that conversation with Lynette helped me deal with the shootings in a far less negative way but like many, those events stayed and disturbed me through the weekend.

All three of us went to the Good Shepherd Anglican church in Curtin on Sunday, after which we went to Fyshwick for lunch. We then came home, talked to Kiddo about her plans, played cards, then went out to Canberra Centre for a bit of window shopping. Then it was back home again, for more cards. We had the TV on as the Kiwis fought back on a lifeless wicket at the WACA in Perth, to put up a fight against the Aussies. IT was good to see, after they were thoroughly beaten in the first Test in Brisbane.

Later that evening, we walked Kiddo to church in uni. LBJ came along and then continued walking to where Kiddo’s graduation ceremony would take place. We mentally prepped how to bring Mum and Sim around when they visit on the week of the ceremony.

We’re nearing another milestone. As I mulled over and over again about whether Kiddo would get her PhB and what next after that, and what I would do work wise in the months/years ahead, I kept coming back to the ongoing theme of waiting on God. I had climbed out of my Morte hold/hole clutching onto that theme and I guess it would remain an ongoing lesson in the days ahead. Not just for me but also Kiddo and Tress, who now at this very moment, continues to deal with the challenges of transitioning into a new role, having left Myer a month ago after more than 10 years there. I hope Tress and Kiddo comes along on my journey on waiting on the Lord, before ascertaining the next move. Only then can we confidently deal with life’s harshest challenges such as dealing with those senseless deaths in Paris over the weekend.

I started my drive yesterday an hour later than usual as we were at a discussion forum about faith and work, after church at St Alf’s.

Throughout my drive the step ladder was rattling in the boot. A couple of bulbs in the apartment had blown out – Kiddo’s room went out many weeks ago and 2-3 weeks ago the one in the kitchen went. We have been relying on the dining area lighting when we used the kitchen. I haven’t been able to fix them because there was nothing in the apartment for me to step on. I couldn’t believe between Kiddo and I we couldn’t get our hands on a loan ladder or even a steady chair for that task – I needed to cart that little ladder all the way from Melbourne, which is a bit stupid but what can I do. I know so few people in this town. Apparently no one Kiddo knows can lend us a ladder – or a chair for that matter.

Saturday was a normal sort – we had an early lunch at Madam Kwong’s and I spent the arvo doing gardening and washing the car.

Saturday night we were at Jason and Mel’s, together with Peter Misso and his wife Anne. We haven’t done these Saturday night things for a long time now. As before, it ended late – we only got home after midnight. It was good however, having conversations with these two couples as well as with Jonathan and Samantha (Jason and Mel’s children). It was particularly good listening to Peter and Anne talk about their early years of work in Australia, and how God provided for them when things were really difficult. I said to Peter it sounded a lot like George Muller’s stories so I asked him to consider writing a book. He and Anne were involved initially with a ministry called Teen Challenge, which didn’t end well. He has found other work however and continues to be positive and has consistently served well, giving his all.

Jason hasn’t recovered from the Lifegate episode. Mel was still tearing up so the hurt is still evident. I hope he continues to involve himself at Bridge church and respond to invitation to participate, in any form.

This morning I messaged Tress and said to her I was flummoxed. I wondered, was confused and a bit deflated. Maybe it’s just Mondayitis creeping in.

The Australian summer series for cricket begins today. We play the Kiwis at the Gabba.

The significance of this match is that the torch has been handed to a new generation. Captaincy of the Australian cricket team is often said to be the second most important job in Australia, after the Prime Minister. Over the years I’ve watched Aussie cricket, I’ve seen the torch handed down from one captain to another. Allan Border to Mark Taylor to Steve Waugh to Ricky Ponting to Michael Clarke and now to Steve Smith. The current team now playing the Kiwis also sees a number of changes. Several players have retired. Haddin, Watson and Rogers are gone.

Ageing, succession and refreshing renewals. They’re all part of the cycle of life. As I type this Australia is 1 for 194 and newcomers Burns and Khuwaja looking like they would do well. Warner is nearing his century.

3 and a half weeks from now summer would officially begin and I would have spent my first winter and spring in the nation’s capital city.

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I walked in to work this morning. My left gluteous maximus is sore. I must have pulled something. It must have happened when I kicked that dog. It’s sore now and hurts when I bend over. My right knee has some abrasions too. Must have scraped it when I fell over, after repeatedly kicking at that dog and pulling the lead to get LBJ away from that dog.

Minutes earlier LBJ had been happily walking and sniffing around on Turner Parklands, near where the big storm water drain runs across under the bridge on Masson Street. He didnt have his lead on but I was not further than 5 meters from him. When I saw that dog slowly running towards him, I quickly put the lead on and tried to get him and myself away. Behind that brown and black striped dog an old man was running, calling out “No Totti, no”. A pit bull terrier, I thought. Too tall to be a Staffordshire terrier.

I dont remember much after that. Other than hearing LBJ cry out loud and me yelling at the dog while kicking him. That old man eventually caught up and tried to pull that dog away. Up close, those stripes are like a tiger’s. He had bits of white on the lower half of his body. When he was at last pulled away by that old man and lead safely in place, I ran my hand through Scruff to see if he has been hurt. Miraculously he appeared to be ok. The only thing on my mind was to ensure that dog is safely restrained – the old man owner appear to be working hard restraining him and I wasn’t completely confident it wouldn’t break free. So I kept a distance as I yelled out to the old man that that dog should be on lead at all times.

Other than some saliva and a broken harness, Scruff appears to be unscathed. As I walked away a young man came up and said he saw what happened and said the old man and I should exchange details. I was still apprehensive about the old man’s ability to retrain that dog so I just asked for his mobile number. He gave me that number and I rang straight away – his phone rang out so I said I will be in contact if necessary. That young man walked with me a little bit and said he was a lawyer with Ashurst and his name was Hayden. I was very grateful for his work.

Back at the apartment I checked Scruff over several times, brushed him, and belly rubbed him to check his underside. I couldn’t believe he appeared to be unscathed. I had spoken to Tress earlier who said she was just leaving the office. As I googled what else I could or should do after an attack like that, I came across an ACT local government page which said I should report the incident. I rang the 13 xxxx number and surprisingly, someone picked up. It was almost 8 by then. She took my call and asked a series of questions. A park ranger than rang again after about 5-10 minutes to say he would write up a report.

LBJ might have been surprised by the affection I showed him all night – held him close, scratched him constantly and babying him. He had his dinner, looked relaxed, and appeared to be in a much better state than I was.

This morning as I walked him, he moseyed up to a big black Labrador and said hello. He is a sweet thing, LBJ. Obviously the attack last night hadn’t changed that part of him. As I tried to go through my routine after that walk, it was obvious of the two of us, I had come out the worse. I’m glad I’m the one with the aches and pains – that little black jedi is such a hero.