Life in 4D

It amazes me how, in a world with billions of people, each of whom has a nearly identical set of genes, it can be so difficult to find someone on the same page as you when it comes to interests, beliefs, perspectives and priorities. I suppose each experience we undergo – every book we read, TV show we watch, childhood (or adulthood) interaction and life event, big or small – affects us uniquely, leading us to embrace or discard things, in order to build what seems like a sensible, enjoyable framework in which to understand and live life.

Throughout the course of three decades, but especially in the last few years, my own interests have diverged in three (or more) distinct directions, each of which seems to have increasingly less interaction with the other. I don’t like this, mainly because I feel as if nobody understands the ‘real’ me, but I’m not sure how to change it, or even if I really can or want to. I chose the title ‘Life in 4D’ not to suggest that my own life is particularly extensive on every axis, but because it’s how I’ve begun to visualise it: growing and stretching in different dimensions, with my identity becoming increasingly separated between them.

I recently imagined a scenario in which I came to a sudden and tragic end (don’t read into that too much), upon which my funeral was arranged. Realistically, I’d expect a few dozen people to show up here in Australia. There would probably be most of my church, a few friends from the school community, a few colleagues and maybe a handful from the gym. As representatives from each of these communities rose to share memories of how I touched their lives, I imagine the surprise that would be evident on some of the other’s faces as they heard about who I was from their point of view. I guess I thought by writing this blog post I could help clarify in advance, both for my own sake and that of the dear guests attending my untimely, hypothetical funeral, who I think I am and the various dimensions I occupy:

  • Fitness (The X Dimension): I’ve always liked sports, especially team sports of the not-too-serious variety. As my kids have grown more playful (and heavier), I began to realise that one game of casual soccer per week wasn’t going to cut it if I wanted to keep up with them; I needed core strength. This was my main motivation for starting CrossFit, because I wanted to build strength and CrossFit seems to be successful at achieving that, with the added bonus of having a team atmosphere, and no mirrors. I kept pretty quiet about my CrossFit involvement for a while, but as I’ve become more muscly and stuff I’ve had to explain it to people. I’ve achieved my initial goal of not being a pathetic weakling, but I continue to go a few times a week because I genuinely feel great after a hard workout. Despite all my gainz, I still hesitate to identity myself as a CrossFitter, or even a gym-goer.
  • Faith (The Y Dimension – see what I’m doing here?): I grew up in church. Some of it was pretty cool, some of it I didn’t like at all. I believed what I was taught, then grew up a bit and questioned it all, then grew up some more and chose to continue to believe that God is real, that there is meaning and purpose to existence and that Jesus is at the core of it all. He’s a fantastic teacher and his true followers can only be described as Top Blokes. He really demonstrated love in its fullness, being led like a lamb to the slaughter and forgiving those in the very act of doing it. I challenge anyone to read through the New Testament and find any ulterior motive to Christianity than love of the undeserving. If there is any quality you admire in me, it’s probably a result of my desire to be like Jesus. I identify as a Christian more than anything else, yet I rarely talk about this with people outside of Dimension Y, I guess because it’s kind of uncomfortable for many people.
  • Science (dangit, this one doesn’t cleverly suit the letter Z, nor does it start with an ‘F’): It can be challenging believing in God (particularly a fundamentally good one) and loving science, but I do. I love the study of nature, the pursuit of answers to perplexing questions, the beauty of physics and the eloquence of mathematical language. Professionally speaking I’m a geologist, which is how lots of people likely identify me; however, this is an aspect I consider relatively disposable, of least significance to me. Lots of people in Dimension Z and Dimension Y are sceptical of, or even hostile toward, one another, but I try not to be too hostile toward myself. There are so few people in my life with whom I share these two interests that I tend to mitigate the loneliness of it by reading like-minded bloggers like The Natural Historian and GeoChristian.

Fatherhood is the fourth dimension (Time), which suits it well because it keeps steaming forward no matter what I do, permeating all others dimensions. I knew from a young age that I wanted to be a dad, and now that I am one, I love it. Everyone knows this about me, and it’s the only dimension I feel perfectly comfortable talking about with anyone (even blatant kid-haters). The other great thing about having kids is that they know me and accept me and love me just as I am. To them, I am a CrossFitter and a Christian and a Geologist and they love all of it, because they love me. No topic is off-limits or uncomfortable (yet) and they see no reason why I shouldn’t read the Bible, collect rocks and swing upside down on monkey bars as much as I like. Eventually they’ll find me super embarrassing, but I’ll make the most of that too.

Have I gotten any further ahead by writing this out? I don’t know. It’s natural, probably healthy and wise in some respects, to be selective about which aspects of yourself you choose to reveal to others (or the entire internet), but it’s funny to think that your Tim is different to Kathryn’s Tim, who’s different to my colleagues’ Tim, who’s different to my church family’s Tim and CrossFit Tim. And I’m sure they’re all different to how I perceive myself.

How about you – do you feel like you’ve selectively withheld aspects of your identity and now can’t seem to bring them all together with any one person or group? Perhaps this is more normal than I’m aware of. If you’ve made it this far into the post I’d definitely be keen to hear your thoughts on the matter.

’til next time,

Tim the Patriarchal Angel of Science and Gainz


Free from the Fear of Failure (or Why I’m Still Doing CrossFit)

Last night I listened to an episode of the TED Radio Hour podcast called ‘Nudge‘. If you’re a parent, or even just a human, I’d suggest listening to it. It’s no exaggeration to say that doing so led me to an epiphany; possibly multiple epiphanies, about myself and parenting. Allow me to set the stage:

I received an email recently congratulating me on my 18 month anniversary at RFX CrossFit. There are a few reasons I joined CrossFit back in February of 2015:

  1. I was coming to realise that I needed to get into better shape to keep up with my growing children (i.e. I was getting tired of nearly putting my back out at the age of 29 because my kids wanted me to pick them up)

  2. I had met a couple of CrossFitters who were quite fit, yet very humble about it. I’ve never had any interest in The Gym, but the way these guys talked about CrossFit made it seem sort of like a team sport, which I’ve always enjoyed

  3. A new CrossFit gym was being built around the corner from our house and I felt compelled, in a Gut Feel kind of way, to check it out. I’m a person who likes to go with my gut, regardless of how soft and weak it was at the time

I could write a lot about my CrossFit experience in general, but this isn’t the post for it. Suffice it to say that when I started I literally could not do a single push-up (which surprised me!). I’ve come a long way since then, having recently achieved such goals as squatting my own bodyweight, snatching over 50kg, stringing together 20 or 30 double unders, etc… To be honest though, I’m not that motivated by the numbers.

In the last few months I realised I had achieved what I’d set out to do: I could pick up my kids, lift them over my head, swing on the monkey bars with them, do handstands in the park, all without fear of getting hurt. So when I hit my one year anniversary, and again on my 18 month anniversary, the question arose in my mind: Why am I still here? Should I carry on?

The thing is, I’ve spent more money on fitness in the last 18 months than in all my life prior to that. I mean, the results have been great, but I’m still sometimes uncomfortable with the cost; after all, how much do I want to invest in a body that will eventually fail, no matter what I do? And it is hard work, especially getting up at 5am to go to class before work, in order not to detract from family time.

I know this is getting long, but stick with me because I’m nearly at the epiphany.

If you haven’t already listened to the podcast I mentioned in the intro, let me summarise a bit of it for you: when you praise children (or people) in a straightforward manner – “What a beautiful picture!”, “You’re so smart”, “You did so well at soccer today!” – something scary happens: having felt “the rush” of being complimented, the recipient develops a tendency to restrict themselves to doing only that which results in more praise. In other words, the praise they received gives them an incentive to stick with what they know they’re good at, and to avoid taking risks.

As I digested this information, I came to realise that most of my life I’ve been experiencing that very thing. I was always a pretty smart kid, reasonably well behaved, committed to doing a good job at work and generally fulfilled by words of affirmation (my #1 Love Language!). As interesting as this perspective was, this wasn’t the epiphany itself. The epiphany is this: the reason I’m still doing CrossFit – what I like so much about it, why I’m willing to pay a bit extra for it – is because it has become my safe place to fail.

I joined RFX all by myself. A new environment, all new people, new activities and challenges like I had never faced before. I was weak. Properly weak. I knew nothing about gymnastics (I broke my arm attempting a one-armed handstand at 17 years old), had never imagined that I would pick up a barbell, and I couldn’t understand 80% of the WOD (workout of the day) for the first few months without the coach explaining it.

I spent the first few weeks being the only guy doing knee push-ups. While the regulars did pull-ups, I referred to them as dangles because I could only hang there wishing myself upward (I learned some regressions, don’t worry). For the first little while I had to take 3 or 4 days off after every workout because I was too sore to move. And every time I thought I was getting a movement right, one of my dear coaches would point out yet another deficiency in my form or technique (with the best of intentions).

I have probably failed in CrossFit more times than I’ve ever failed at anything in my life. Possibly more than all my other failures combined. I literally fail every day as I push my body to new limits and build strength and skill. The box – as CrossFitters affectionately call their workout area – is my safe space to fail, and I love that. When I fail in front of the strongest and best – the legends – in the box, I’m not embarrassed, and they’re not critical; they’ve become the best because they’ve faced failure probably thousands of times more than me. More likely than not they’ll say an encouraging word or offer some nugget of wisdom that’ll help me nail it next time. If I fail in front of newer or weaker members of the box I can only assume that it’ll inspire them like it’s inspired me when I’ve seen it in others: that ability to reset, keep a positive attitude, focus and try again.

I’ve been hesitant to compete again since attending my first competition back in February 2016. I did pretty well (in my opinion) but ended up feeling aimless afterwards, having a bit of a ticked-that-box mentality. My epiphany – the nudge I got from TED radio hour – has made me realise that I do want to compete again. Not to win, but to fail. Sound weird to you? Maybe it is, but I want to compete again and I want my kids to watch me do it. I want them to see me go as hard as I can, laid out on the floor until I physically cannot get that next rep. I want them to see me push myself to the limit and almost certainly fail to reach the podium because, hey, I’m honestly not the best out there. But when that happens, they won’t see me sulking in the corner. I’ll be attempting a smile through my sweaty, oxygen-deprived grimace; after all, I’ve given it my best, I’m in the best shape of my life and I’m free. Free to be a nerdy CrossFit misfit and free to fail.

10 year letters

This is Tim.

When Eden was almost 3, and Kate was just a wee little 1-year-old, I often thought about how the girls and I had such a special relationship, and how it was a shame that they wouldn’t remember any of it. I mean, sure we can all have a general sense of a positive or negative childhood, but nobody really remembers details of when they’re a baby or a toddler. Some people hardly even remember older childhood – my memories are pretty hazy before about middle school, except for a couple of exceptionally emotional/intense experiences.

I also began to think that it was a shame that these adoring daughters of mine would soon become teenagers. I do remember what it’s like to be a teenager, though not as a girl, but I know your relationship with your parents tends to change dramatically over those years. It’s probably inevitable that there will be tension between parents and children during the teenage years. Parents will remember the special bond they had with their young kids; the nights they carried them to bed, out cold and all floppy, then laid them down and just sat and watched them sleeping, filled with inexplicable adoration. We’ll remember when we walked in the door after work every day and they ran full speed into our arms, shouting “Daddy!!” as if we’d been gone for days, or weeks (which I also get to experience – the greeting is pretty much the same in both cases). We’ll remember when they thought everything we did was AMAZING; when we could induce fits of laughter simply by adding the word “poo” to a joke or story; when we taught them to ride a bike and our hearts were filled to bursting with pride and delight, even as theirs were.

But they probably won’t remember much of that, which made me a bit sad… so I came up with an idea, which I want to share with you because I think it’s a good one and you might want to do it too. I call it the 10-year letters, and it’s pretty simple. On Eden’s third birthday, or within a week or two of it, I wrote her a letter telling her about where we live, who her friends are, what kind of things we like to do together, where I work/what I do/how I feel about it, a funny story or two about her and I, and what I wonder or hope or pray for her at the age of 13 (about how boys are trouble, you know). Then I sealed it up, wrote “Eden – 13” on it and filed it away. In 10 year’s time, on her 13th birthday, she’ll get her first letter. Kate will get her first letter when she turns 12.

It’ll be a snapshot of the relationship we had 10 years earlier, and by the time she turns 13 I’ll have a stash of letters for her all the way through to her 22nd birthday. All through the teenage years and into adulthood my daughters will be reminded  each year about – or perhaps learn for the first time about – what we’ve been through together. I won’t remember the details I’ve written in those letters, but I’m sure they will provide some insight into how much my kids have always meant to me; something I am only beginning to grasp about my own parents now that my girls are growing up. Mom and dad, did you really feel the way about me that I feel about Eden and Kate? I find it hard to believe, and I wish I could remember it. Thanks for taking care of me.

So, fellow dads (or mums), if you like the idea: get on board! It’s easy, and I’ve found that the process of reminiscing over the previous year and writing about it by hand is beneficial in its own right. Based on a Google search, I’m not the only dad (or mum) who’s written letters to his or her kids for the future, but I just might be one of the only ones doing it as systematically as I am (systematic: how’s that for a romantic word?). Stay tuned and I’ll let you know how it all works out, starting in about 8 years 🙂

Personal Training … and Hope?

So I had my first ever Personal Training (PT) session the other day. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while since I’ve been going to the gym and attending classes regularly. I feel pretty lost on the gym floor with probably at least 50% of the equipment completely foreign to me. I feel silly going up and reading the instructions on how to use it (insecure much?) and definitely intimidated in certain sections (body building/weights anyone?). So I thought seeing a PT might be a way to get to know my way around the gym floor without feeling too inadequate.

My first session was good and informative. My PT was professional, very knowledgeable, and I can see how she would “get results” if you were to see her regularly. My plan was to have the initial session and then get her to write a program for me to do at the gym on my own (because paying for PT sessions isn’t really in the budget right now).

One thing I was left with though was a feeling of guilt and pressure I haven’t been able to shake. I’ve been feeling guilty about the food I eat (or think about), I’ve been feeling really inadequate, insecure, and ashamed. It’s crazy really because I actually went into the session feeling pretty good about myself, happy with where I was at and the work I was putting in at the gym, my food choices, and all that.

This is the Fitness Industry, it’s all based on guilt and “being a better version of you”. This works for a lot of people, at least temporarily, which is why the industry is so huge. The focus is on getting a “bikini body” or entering body building competitions. It’s about being able to fit into a certain size of clothes or seeing a certain number on a scale.


In the USA there’s an Organization called Revelation Wellness that basically turns the fitness industry on its head. Their motto is LOVE GOD – GET HEALTHY – BE WHOLE – LOVE OTHERS. The founder of Revelation Wellness is Alisa Keeton, who was part of the traditional fitness industry before hearing (and listening, and acting) from God. She says  “I believe we are spiritual beings with physical bodies. To train the body without the Spirit is to treat just the symptom and not the cause. I believe in the possibility of being healthy and whole, which comes from training the whole person – mind, body, soul, and spirit – with a social consciousness regarding the gift of good health. When we individually experience wholeness, we are more open and able to serve others well. In our physical and spiritual fitness, we are better equipped to live out the two greatest commandments that Jesus gave us; to love God with all heart, soul, mind and strength and to love others as ourselves.” (Mark 12:28-32)

This is something I want to be a part of. This is hope rather then guilt, it’s freedom rather then bondage, it’s grace rather then punishment.

I said in my last post that I like exercise, I like group fitness, I like how I feel mentally/physically/spiritually when I’m exercising regularly. I did not like how I felt after my session with the PT – even though it was useful and informative. I think that Alisa and the Rev Well team, have something to offer the world that is different and life giving. So I think that God is leading me to be a part of it.


Watch this space and if you’re keen, pray with me about my next steps.

We Are Family!

This is how I feel about church too – it’s about family, not being perfect or following rules and traditions. Well said Emma!

Emma's English Kitchen

Yesterday a piece of metal flew up underneath my son’s car and sliced through a brake line. Terrible timing just before he starts his placement at the end of his year of electrical training. We all felt a bit down. As a consequence his car is out of action and I drove him to work this morning.

‘Having the best day…Joell arrived and I’m working with him today, haha…’ his text read less than an hour in.

When we moved here five years ago, Joell, a young guy in the church befriended our son. His friendship helped Sam settle into life here in Canada. Sam helped Joell renovate his house along with a team of others, Joell taught Sam to play drums, and along the way some discipling was going on. Sam was a groomsman at Joell’s wedding, and has followed in his footsteps into electrical construction. If he has a problem I know…

View original post 678 more words

Running and Mental Health

***** I wrote this post back in March and never published it. I am still exercising regularly but not running as often due to Tim being away and it being dark and cold in the mornings, but the words I wrote still ring true today.*****

It’s nothing new that exercise benefits us mentally, a quick Google search will tell you that. Why do so many of us live sedentary lives though, and as a result suffer from depression or feeling “low”? We first world citizens live privileged lives and yet there is so much unhappiness, so much complaining, so much medicating. Yet, don’t we already know the answer? At least part of it? We need to move, we need to get off our bottoms (to put it politely) and get out the door. It’s not easy though and I’ve used all the excuses. I’ve been up all night with a baby (valid), I don’t have time, I don’t have money to afford a gym membership, it’s my period,  my little toe is sore….and you could go on. We all have our reasons to be lazy and only moving when it’s absolutely necessary….like to go to the toilet. Our current work environment doesn’t help with many people sitting at a desk behind a computer all day long, but there are still opportunities to move throughout the day, even if it’s just making a point to go for a short walk during lunch time. Last year about August I went to the Doctor, I think I went for some minor ailment, I don’t remember now but it ended up being more of a mental health check up than anything. One of my beautiful friends recommended her Doctor to me and I’m so thankful, she’s much more than a GP and was interested in me more than a prescription. I had a full blood work done to check Thyroid and other things and she advised me to take some vitamins. She also referred me to a psychologist. I was really struggling in every area but especially motherhood, I was not treating my girls well and they were copying my behaviour (as children do), I had a lot of self hatred, and negative self talk, there was a lot going on and when I tried reaching out to people they would say things like “well, Tim does work away, it’s bound to be hard”….very unhelpful. After a few sessions with the psychologist I visited my Doctor again, I still wasn’t doing great and she was hoping for an improvement. She asked me if I wanted anything for my mood….an antidepressant. I honestly didn’t think I was depressed but all the signs were pointing to that, in hindsight. I decided against the prescription and took her other advice, to start exercising. She told me it was part of my wellness plan and so I decided to take her advice, it couldn’t hurt me anyway.

I didn’t really get into regular exercise until after Christmas when Tim suggested we join a local gym that was opening. I’m not saying that exercise is a cure-all but I definitely think it’s for everyone. I know some people need medication and intervention but something in me knew what I needed to do. I’ve been doing some exercise on and off over the past few years, I was the most regular about 2 years ago when I was going to a BodyPump class at the gym and walking weekly with my friend Emma. She ended up moving back to the UK and I think I felt a little lost without that friendship, especially after getting back from our holiday in Canada and missing family. When we moved to Atwell, my friend Anna thought we should start the Couch to 5km running program together, we had each other for accountability and that was KEY. I knew I wasn’t going to be getting up at 6am unless I knew she would be waiting for me and I think she felt the same way. It was great to start at the beginning, we were both pretty unfit so it was nice to have someone to struggle next to. I downloaded the app on my phone, basically it starts you really slowly and builds up gradually over 8 weeks. You can listen to your own music and the app will tell you when to walk and run (or plod). For example the first week you start out with a 5min warm-up walk. Then alternate 60 seconds of jogging with 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes. Running that one minute was hard, that’s how unfit I was. I also climbed Bluff Knoll during those early weeks which was just another example to me of how fit I was, but gave me a vision and hope for a fitter future. I signed up for a 5km run the end of March, I had to pay a small fee which is an incentive in it’s self, I had a goal, I had a time frame, and I had a friend. Well about half way, or maybe we were a little further, Anna told me she was expecting baby number three. She continued running with me for a few more weeks but her Doctor told her that such intense exercise wasn’t probably a good idea due to her medical history. We were both disappointed in the news because had come to love that time together in the early morning, chatting and catching up on each others news, pushing each other to not give up running when our legs were screaming at us. She’s now happily growing a little baby and miraculously I’ve continued running. It hasn’t been easy to motivate myself to get out of bed, and occasionally I give myself grace to skip a planned run. I try to get in three a week and one or two classes at the gym. After a restless night I didn’t want to go this morning…at all. I was tired and slightly sore from my class on Monday, Kate had joined us sometime in the middle of the night and I had a hard time getting back to sleep after bringing her back to bed. This is real life. When the alarm went off at 5:35 I didn’t want to move, it was still dark and bed was so cosy. I did manage to roll out of bed though, get dressed and get my sneakers on before both girls appeared at our door. I was kind of relieved that I was ready to go because I really didn’t feel like dealing with kids who should have slept longer…you know the kind. I was a little later leaving then I had hoped but I got out the door and that’s the most difficult part.

Australians tend to be better at getting going early in the morning. I think it has something to do with the extreme heat. If you want to get anything done outside (gardening, exercise, dog walking) it’s best to do it early just as the sun is rising, before it gets hot.  It’s nice greeting people who are out early, even though I’m listening to music and very sweaty I always say good morning to passers-by. It’s energizing to get moving early in the morning to greet the day, I most often have more energy and get more things done on the days when I go for a run (unless I push myself too far and then I’m shattered). It normally helps me to make better food choices as well. I never really thought of myself as a runner or an early morning one at that…. and I kinda picture myself looking like this when I run. However; I do it, I am doing it and feeling better for it. No I haven’t really lost much weight, but I’ve become stronger and actually have some muscle tone. I ran a 5km timed race last weekend and came in at just under 37 minutes. I was happy with this because I honestly didn’t know if I could run 5km straight yet and I didn’t think I would be under 40 minutes. So really it’s not about the running, it about feeling better. Feeling better about myself, having more to give to my girls, not letting the excuses win. Feeling mentally stronger, knowing that I can push myself to run further because it’s a mind game. It’s a time when I can set my day on the right track rather them be woken from a deep sleep by someone whining for breakfast. I always listen to worship music when I run, it’s a time for me to think about nothing other then God, and pushing myself until the app tells me to stop (I’m now on the C210K one…and it’s hard).

I, of course have bad days, we all do, but I have far less of them now. I’m coming out of that horrible, out of control, “low” time and now I can see it on other mums. Tired, worn out mums, who can’t imagine trying to fit exercise into their schedule. Mums who know they need to exercise to feel better but feel hopeless and don’t really know where to start, maybe they’re afraid to fail. It breaks my heart really to see it because I’ve been there, and not too long ago. Some days I still feel like I’m there. Honestly, I would recommend visiting your Doctor (without kids), and if you need a good one in Perth just ask me the name of mine, also get moving ASAP. Even if it’s just walking to drop your kids off at school instead of driving one day a week, or around the neighbourhood pushing a stroller with a bigger kid on a scooter. It’s possible, and you and your kids will be better for it. So that’s where I’m at, I want to encourage others to get moving because I’ve seen how much of a difference it has made in my life.  I’m a little unsure about how to do this since I don’t want to make people feel worse about themselves (I’ve been there, feeling like people are exercising AT me). The interesting thing is that you can’t fail at it, moving more, even a little bit will benefit you. I don’t plan on running any marathons, running 5kms is still hard, but I CAN run 5km and a few months ago I could barely run for one minute straight. I’m never going to be that super muscular mum with fake boobs at the gym (nor do I want to be) but I can have more energy for my girls. I’m proud of how far I’ve come.

I decided that 2015 was going to be my year to work on my fitness and so far so good! I’ve set realistic goals with a plan to achieve them. I may be less available for play dates or getting together because I want to go to a class at the gym, this may sound strange but honestly it’s my priority this year. Another word of advice, get outside. I know this is really difficult for people in Canada where the sidewalks are covered with metres of snow right now but when the snow starts to melt get outside and breath fresh air. In the meantime there are alternatives. If you want energy, drink less coffee and exercise more.

Prayers, Plans, and Split Lips

Our church CityLight is going through a bit of a transition right now and as a result Tim and two other leaders are going to be sharing the teaching role. This is a new thing for Tim (but not the others) as well as an exciting and scary leap of faith. We’ve been praying a lot lately about our church, our role in the church, and future plans for our church.

This morning we were there early helping set up. Tim was planning on leading a session on personal testimony this morning for our Family Service (everyone in together including kids) when Eden, who was running around in her sock feet, slipped and had a fantastic face-plant on the tile.

This resulted in me scooping up all 20kg of her, running to the kitchen where Tim was, and trying to figure out where all the blood was coming from. We decided that it wasn’t bad enough for a trip to emergency but definitely a trip home for a non bloody shirt.

So here we are, Eden’s eating a popsicle while Tim’s teaching and somehow looking after Kate at the same time.

Thing’s don’t always work out how we plan them, often they don’t, but we have to trust that God has a plan better then ours, even if it involves split lips. This is definitely true for our church, we wouldn’t have planned how things are going right now but we can trust that God has a plan and rest in that knowledge.

So stay tuned as the next few months are bound to be full of prayer, plans, and hopefully no more split lips.