“Kate, how’s church going?”

The question I dreaded the most was asked to me while sitting in a cafe.

I smiled politely, I had a fair idea of the interaction would pan out...

“I’m not really sure” I responded.
“Oh, why not?”

I prepared myself for the eyes.
“The eyes” are a term I use for when people say more through their eyes than their words.
I mostly get them when I’ve placed lexi in timeout in a public setting, like when we’re grocery shopping.
People look at me and without saying a word their eyes say “good on ya, Mum. You’ve got this. We’ve been there too”.
Sometimes they say “can you please control your kid” to which my eyes respond “fuck off. Do you want to deal with her sass so I can continue shopping? Didn’t think so”

The eyes I was preparing myself for during this interaction aren’t encouraging eyes though, they’re “oh, another fallen troop. Another one bites the dust” eyes. Kind of like you give someone who has just lost their job.
Some might say those eyes don’t exist. But they do.
I know these eyes, I know them because after 11 years in church and 11 years of practice, I was the master of them.
I never did those eyes on purpose. It just kind of happened.
I never understood the individual, their heart or journey, but I didn’t need to... because I knew (so I thought), they mustn’t have really loved God. They didn’t really ever know him. If they did they would still be going to church. amirite?

I replied, a little anxiously, “I’m not actually attending a church anymore”.

“Oh (insert eyes here). Well that’s okay. How’s everything else going? How’s Lexi? How’s running, you did a marathon recently didn’t you?”

I nodded. I felt bad seeing how awkward they felt.
They felt awkward about my failed existence.
And I felt bad that they didn’t know how to respond to what I had just said, or me or my situation.

I’ve been pretty open about my stance on church and life.
I probably sound a bit bitter here. Mostly I’m not. Sometimes I am.
After this interaction I certainly was and to give a bit of context, when I wrote this letter it was about 10 minutes after. It’s now two weeks later.

I obviously needed some time to cool off.

If you go to church, the following will probably offended you.
If you don’t go to church, it will be completely irrelevant to you. You may not even know about my faith... don’t worry, I’m not going to whack you with a bible next time I see you...

On many occasions Alexis has asked me why I don’t go to church, so for me this letter is one of relevance. It really is personal to our relationship... which makes it the most terrifying to post.

Anyway... I always said that this blog was for her and I. So I guess this is the tester! Every post has been easy until now...

Alexis,

I don’t go to church anymore.

I used to.
I used to go a lot.
But not anymore.

Alexis, just because I don’t go to church doesn’t mean I don’t love God.
Because I do.

It doesn’t mean I don’t serve God in my own way.
Because I do.

It doesn’t mean I don’t hold the same faith.
Because I do.

It doesn’t mean I’m ‘backslidden’
Because I’m not.

It just means the outworking of my faith and life look different to how they used to.

I don’t go to church because on the occasions I have gone I’ve either felt judged or unloved.
I don’t go to church because for me, it’s a place of loneliness, not fulfilment.
I don’t go to church because I find I connect with God more when I’m running outside. Or when I’m spending time with people discussing situations and issues. Not people.
I don’t go to church because I do too much online shopping during the sermon, and you need food... and I need coffee.
I don’t go to church anymore because I know we have different opinions on some very big topics and I just can’t support some of their views.
I don’t go to church anymore because when I hear about politics from the stage I get frustrated.
I don’t go because often when I go I feel religious and my heart feels hard.
I don’t go to church because I’ve learnt that the God I believe in exists all over the place, not just there.
I don’t go to church anymore because when I needed them the most I found myself alone.
I don’t go to church because for a long time I put church before you. I never should have done that, I’m so sorry. And where I can I want to make adjustments to put you first in every way.
I don’t go anymore because I have found I feel freer and more at peace in my existence away from church.
I don’t go to church because I felt like I had to preform well for survival, for acceptance, for a place.
I don’t go anymore because you have a parent who will help you find your place within church.
I don’t go to church anymore because I have found more grace from those who are outside of church.
I don’t go to church because I was terrified of showing them who I really was, with the fear of not being accepted. With the fear of them thinking I would need prayer, or intervention or healing. I didn’t want prayer, or intervention or healing. I wanted acceptance and love.
I don’t go to church because love wasn’t enough for them, but it was perfect for me.
I don’t go to church anymore because I used to think my church attendance made me a good person. It didn’t. It made me a hurting person.
I don’t go to church because my worth isn’t found in being there, my existence gives me worth.

I don’t go to church because I now realise that I was serving people more than God. I was disillusioned, working hard, and incredibly tired.

I don’t go to church because I know that God is more fond of my heart, even at its weakest than me being bitter about “having” to go.

Alexis, I’m not saying church is bad.
It’s not.
There is so much good that comes out of a church.
In fact, if it wasn’t for church, there wouldn’t be a you.
And just as I’m not perfect, either are they.
And to be clear, this is more of a “it’s me, not you” situation. I’m the only one who control my emotions and attitude.

But Alexis, my weekly church attendance doesn’t make me any less of a believer or decrease my faith in anyway.
It also doesn’t make me a bad person.
It’s not an “us and them” situation.

We are all bad.
Enter Jesus.

Kind and loving people aren’t just found within a church, they are found everywhere.
At the same time judgemental, hurt and angry people aren’t just found outside of a church, they are found everywhere.

I still love.
I still try and forgive.
I still speak life and encouragement.
I still try and develop my character and ideas.
I still give to charities.
I still try and be humble.
I still pray.
I still believe more than ever that God is real.
I still see an amazing amount of good in the world.
I still thank God for you everyday, and for my existence.
I still see how all creation points to God.

I just don’t believe my place is within a church.
Based on my experience.
But you need to know, if your place is within church I’m behind you 100%.

At the same time, I just want you to know that if you search for a place in church and don’t find it, that’s okay.

Jesus didn’t die on the cross to force you into going to church. Church attendance doesn’t determine your salvation.

You’re not a bad person for not going to church, and at the very same time you’re not a good person for attending church.

If your choice is church, I’m with you. If you ask me to go with you, I’ll say yes. I’ll even take you from time to time, based on my choice that day.
If your choice isn’t church, I will never give you “another fallen troop eyes.”

In fact, I realise that one day you may believe something completely different to my beliefs. I have always prayed that you would be someone who carries your convictions strongly. These convictions could be very different to mine.

No matter your choice at any time I will give you “I love you unconditionally” eyes.

Which is what the church should be about.
Because it’s was Gods about.

...I would probably attended that church.
If your choice is church, make sure that’s the church you attend.

​I stood in a book shop and searched. I was bored with the books I was reading to Lexi, we both needed something new. 
I saw a book that was now living at her dad’s house, Lost and Found by Oliver Jeffers. Remembering I liked the illustrations of that book, I thought he would be a good starting point. Flicking through the options I came across a yellow cover, The Heart and the bottle, it read. Intrigued by the title I picked it up and started to read. As I read the last page, I wiped my eyes; you know how in teenage chick flicks the girls carry their school books by hugging them to their chest? Well, on my way to the counter, I may have carried this book in the same fashion. I am such a cliché. I was grateful for the treasure I had found in the children's corner of a little Hobart book store.
 
Upon reflection I actually had so many moments of peace in what felt like a very stormy season.
 
Lexi and I take turns in deciding what book we read at night... I always choose The Heart and the Bottle, and Lexi always knows it, often saying "let me guess... You are going to chose The Heart and the Bottle again?" 
It’s either that or Oh the Places You'll Go.
 I strongly believe every adult should own a copy of these books (and every other book Jeffers has written, I think he's fantastic).
 
Let me give you a quick synopsis…
 
A little girl likes to read with someone who you assume is her grandfather as he sits in his rocking chair, then one day she faces an empty chair. Yes, it's that subtle, the chair is just empty, no explanation really. Her grandpa is gone, and since she feels like she can't risk too much strain on her heart again, the girl grows up solitary, putting her heart in a bottle which she wears tied to a string around her neck. This doesn't make her life easier, as one might imagine. The bottle gets in the way of normal life activities. One day she meets a young girl who reminds her of the beauty of life. Wanting to experience life again she tries to remove her heart from the bottle and place it back where it belongs. It turns out that in keeping the heart "safe" for so long she’s forgotten how to remove it, and even worse, the correct use for it. She eventually gives up and takes her heart to the little girl, who helps free it.

I've added a YouTube link for those of you who cannot access a bookshop before the completion of this letter.
Unfortunately every YouTube clip let me down and, I feel, didn't do the book justice, but it will just have to do.

​Darling, darling Alexis,


You own a lot.
You have a lot.


But nothing, nothing you can hold in your hands, nothing you can buy, nothing on earth will ever be as precious as your heart.
Nothing will ever be as sacred, or important, or mysterious as one’s heart.


It can break so easily.
And yet, somehow, makes us act with so much tenacity.
In one moment it creates a fierce protector, in the next a gentle comforter.
In its breaking, it builds again.
It causes strangers to feel compassion from a distance.
Causes others to stand up for those who they have never, will never, meet.
The breaking of hearts can build societies. It can create change for the better or worse.
It’s so strong, and yet so fragile at the same time.


Alexis, you can’t expect people to look after your heart.
They won’t.
They’ll look after their own heart.


Everyone has their own understanding of how their heart should be treated by others, and how they should treat others.
For me, I try to hold my own heart knowing that it’s for me to look after, but not at the detriment of others.
My heart is no more important than another's.
My feelings, my tears, my smile; they do not trump others, both now or ever.
But if someone doesn’t see that my heart is important, I’ll keep it hidden from them. Only letting them see parts of who I am, not the whole. Or, I won't allow that person near my heart, or yours.


Lexi, let’s talk about your heart.


Your heart exists to teach you!
 
You heart gives you life; it gives your life meaning. 
Passion, compassion, purpose, wonder, they all stem from the existence of a heart at work.
The little girl found wonder in the stars and the sea! Her heart taught her to be grateful of her existence in the enormity of the ocean and the universe.
After placing her heart into safe keeping nothing was the same. She forgot about the stars... and stopped taking notice of the sea.
When you have forgotten about the parts of life which make you feel overwhelmingly grateful, yet insignificant at the same time, you know that something is wrong.
There are parts of life which we should stop and notice. We know we have put our hearts away when we no longer notice them.


Your hearts safe place is not in a bottle.
 
Feeling unsure, the girl thought the best thing was to put her heart in a safe place.
Find out what your safe place looks like, but let me tell you, from someone who has tried to keep their heart in an air tight jar, your safe places are those that allow for you to feel, where the storm can touch you. The girls safe place was not a jar, but in the curiosities of the world, the thoughts of the stars, the wonders of the sea.


My hearts safe place is in running, in writing, in being outside, in sitting alone in cafes. My hearts safe spaces are those places which allow for me to exist without demand or expectation, in comfortable silences. My hearts safe place is with you & in being with people who remind me how to use my heart and treat it well.
It's in the places which allow for me to feel safely and teach me that to feel anything, we must feel everything.


No heart belongs in a bottle. Its purpose is to love and to be loved. Its purpose is to be used.
Her heart became heavy and awkward around her neck. It wasn't being used for its intended purpose.


Hearts don’t belong in jars. It got in the way of everyday activities. Because it wasn’t being how it should, it was heavier than it should have been; however, I guess it reminded her that it needed to be used. Desired to be used. Deserved to be used.


It surprises me when people say, "I don't want to love someone, it’s too much risk, what if I get hurt?"
I surprise myself when I stop myself from pursuing my hearts passion in fear of failure.


Watch your mind. Your mind gets in the way of your passions, of your hearts drive and purpose.


Alexis, the thing about a heart in a bottle, everyone can see it, but no one can access it.
There is no strength in saying, "hey, look at my heart. It's so neat and intact, but you can never touch it". That’s not strength. Strength is saying, "Here is my heart, my feelings. I want you to be gentle with it, but even if you're not, I will fix it up, but it will not stop me taking notice of the things that make me whole. I won’t give up on people, on experiences, on giving, on receiving.


There is no glory in getting to the end of your journey with your heart in one piece.



A full life demands risks.
 
Risks result in bruises, in falls, and in standing back up again. I would rather a heart that’s been well used, than a heart that hasn't felt at all.
There is almost a sense of pride when people talk about how high their walls are. “I have so many walls, no one can get in, no one can hurt me”.
 
Building walls doesn’t build strength.
 
Walls don’t just shut others out, it shuts you in. No view was ever seen from standing behind a big ugly brick wall.
 
I saw this last night by notesontheway via Instagram 

There is no weakness in feeling.


True use of your heart happens when you allow others into your life
Keeping your heart “safe” not only stops you from loving others, but also being able to be loved by others.


I believe it’s sadder to never experience real love, both giving and receiving, than to be hurt.
In using your heart, to any capacity, it will get hurt.


...had she not met someone smaller and still curious about the World.


The story alludes to the fact that to feel, learn, experience and grow, we need others to help us, to show us how to live. The story shows us that an existence of isolation is no real existence at all.


Darling girl, you are this for me. You are my “someone smaller and still curious about the world”. You notice the moon up in the day, and want to know why.
You notice birds and ask about where they go to sleep at night.
You notice others’ hearts, my heart. “Mummy are you tired? Or do you feel sad?”


You notice how your friends are feeling.
You love the ocean,
And being outside.
You love dancing and singing.
You are curious about the stars.
You love cuddles and spelling words out.
Your curiosity and the way you use your heart challenges me to use my own heart to its full capacity.


And in turn, when you see my heart at use it inspires yours.


But Alexis, take note.
Storing your heart away doesn't keep it safe, it suffocates it.
It needs warmth, sun, rain and air to grow


The bottle that the girl placed her heart in could not be broken. But once she handed it to the small girl it was removed. I don’t know what she did with the bottle though... I would like to know, because it wasn't broken, just empty.


The bottle was still there for her heart to slip back into.
Be careful not to go back to keeping yourself safe.


There is no shame in wanting to feel to your full capacity.
In no way am I encouraging you to be stupid with your heart and life! I just believe that at the end of all of it, I want to know that I have been brave enough to use my heart, no matter the risk.
 
Alexis, use your heart and use it well.
Please, love to a capacity which feels like you can't handle it.
Hope for the situations which seem completely hopeless.
Stop and notice the strength and enormity of the sea.
Lie down and notice the millions of starts with are beyond your capacity to count

It’s easy to try and hide away when we are hurt, because it feels like we can't handle anymore.


But...
 
Hearts don't belong in bottles. 

​Navigating this blog stuff is a whole new ball game.
I need to start googling blog questions. You know, like, how often do I blog? And how much do I write in each blog?
I used to do a bit of public speaking and I remember during the preparation I would think, “gee, I’m glad I’ll be able to skip the parts that actually don’t matter”. Blogging is different, once its up, there it is. All of the useless parts are there too.
My next issue [with blogging] is that no one can understand my tone. I hate social media and texting for this reason, you just can’t understand how someone is saying their words, and people interpret what they’re reading on their experiences and feelings that day. Normally I cover my arse by adding in emojis, but again, blogging doesn’t offer that.
 
We’re all learning together, which is a worry.
However I may be overthinking it. Its been known to happen.
 
Before I get onto my next letter I want to thank everyone who was so encouraging regarding my first post.
Eventually I’ll add all of the past Addressed to Alexis letters, but not yet. Also, to those who have asked, no you cannot subscribe at this point. I’ve done this on purpose. I’ve been on a bit of a journey regarding discipline and I guess I’m wondering how disciplined I’ll be. I don’t feel like letting myself down, so I’m easing into the process.
 
Anyway... here we go.

​Alexis,
 
This year I started seeing a phycologist. When you asked where I was going I said to you, “Lexi, you know how mummy cries a lot sometimes?”
Your response, “yeah, I know”
“and Lexi” I said, “you know how sometimes it feels like mummy cries a little bit more than other people?”
“oh yeah, you cry all the time” (just to be clear, I didn’t think I was that bad)
“Well mummy is going to see someone to help her understand why she cries so much”
“that’s good mummy”, you told me.
 
At the end of my first appointment my phycologist asked me, “Kate tell me what you are hoping to gain from this”
I sat and thought for a moment, I said to her “I hate looking back on my life and what’s happened and feeling sad. I want my past to be a point of strength for me, not a point of weakness. I want my hurt to be a building point rather than a crumbling point”
 
“Kate I’m so glad you didn’t say you wanted to be happy”
 
I said to her, “I don’t believe in happiness.”
 
She asked me to explain further.
Alexis, let me instead explain to you.
 
So many people have been asked, “what do you want in life?”
Many have answered.
And I’m sure many have said that their search is for happiness, “all I want in life is to be happy”.
 
I write to you knowing that the words I am about to string together are not always possible, not always achievable.
 
I write to you knowing I have not perfected this. Knowing I probably never will.
But it doesn’t mean we don’t strive.
 
Let’s talk about happiness.
 
People love happiness. Our society pushes for us to be happy. We are lead to believe that sadness is the enemy and at all cost we must avoid it.
We have tablets to make us happy. We have tablets to ease sadness.
We are told to buy more.
Buy the car. Buy the phone. Go on the holiday. Buy the shoes. Buy another Adidas jumper (this was a personal experiment) and you will be happier. Hike up a mountain. Create moments.
We are told others will make us happy; marriage, people, family. It’s not always the case.
We are told that if our life looks a certain way we should be happy, everything should be okay.
We become frustrated because the life that was meant to lead to happiness hasn’t come to fruition.
 
Call me cynical, and that’s okay, but I’m not a fan of happiness. I’m not big on the concept of happiness. I believe happiness is deceiving.
 
Happiness is fleeting. It’s momentary.
 
We are led to believe that we should always be happy and if we’re not there is something wrong with us.
Please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying though. Happiness is nice. It’s fun. It’s exciting. We look back on photos and a warmth comes over us, reminding of a happier time (refer to photos attached). We ‘throwback’ to the moments we loved, when we are in a not so loving place. And when we meet moments of happiness we should embrace them. Love them.
 
The issue I have with happiness and the reason I am cynical towards it, is because it’s not a permanent state of being. No one, for all their lives can be happy. When we find the high of happiness we certainly don’t want to let it go. We will keep searching for the high, finding it, but never really attaining it.
 
The search for happiness makes sadness seem like the enemy, but it isn’t.
In life, we can’t have good without the bad.
Superman can’t save the world without Lex Luther.
 
Bravery only exists because we know fear.
We can only meet with peace once we’ve first spent time with turmoil.
Joy cannot be embraced without first embracing grief.
Happiness cannot be known if you have never known sadness.
You only become strong, if you’ve first been weak.
 
Sadness.
Pain.
Grief.
Turmoil.
They are not the enemy.
Nor will they ever be.
The enemy is the lack of understanding we have around emotions.
 
No emotion lasts forever. They come and they go. Sometimes quickly, sometimes they stick around for longer. Emotions are not places to set up home, we pass through them on the journey. We meet with them and learn from them, and we learn to embrace them.
In life, it’s the moments of trial we learn about ourself. It’s the hard times that develop character. Climbing the mountains develop our muscles, it builds our strength (and has a stunning view).
The happy moments give us rest, but they don’t develop us as people of character and convictions.
We need to learn to lean into our emotions rather than run from them. By leaning into what we’re feeling we find the place we should be setting up home.
 
If you’re going to stop anywhere on your journey, stop at contentment.
Being content is an art which I haven’t mastered, but I’m learning.
Being content is to be in the middle of great trial and suffering, or being completely elated and excited, knowing no matter what happens everything will be okay. To be able to feel extreme emotions, at both ends of the spectrum and knowing no matter what the season or the situation you will survive. You will still stand strong and you will find thankfulness even when it seems difficult.
 
I hate being told to find positives when I’m in a bad head space. Hate it. Sometimes I’m not a glass half full person. It’s too much effort.
I would rather tell a person to fuck off than tell them what the positives in my life are.
Tell me to find something to be thankful for though, that I can do. I realise they are essentially the same thing, but they’re not. Not to me anyway. But that’s for another time…
I can understand the thought process behind it though; finding positives or reasons to be thankful in the hardest of times. It allows for us to step into a place when we can settle our emotions, heart and mind to remind ourselves that even in the best and worst of times we can be at peace.
 
Being content means knowing that even when your heart is at its weakest you will come out the other side.
Being content means appreciating the hardest of times as much as the easiest of times.
Being content means learning when the difficult and resting when its easy.
Being content means stopping and breathing deep no matter what your surroundings are doing.
Being content allows for our past to be a point of strength rather than weakness.
Being content recognises that your hurt doesn’t weaken you, but builds you up. It isn’t a crumbling point, but a building block.
 
Being content, I like this one, allows for you to have compassion to yourself when you feel weak.
 
Being content is getting the worst hair cut ever, looking in the mirror and thinking, “uggggggh it’s so bad, but hair grows”
 
So, Alexis I beg you, don’t seek happiness. When happiness comes embrace it and enjoy every moment of it. But don’t let happiness be your goal. It’s not your destination. Your destination is to be content. It’s to seek peace in the best and worst of moments.
 
The goal is to learn, grow, breath, stop, and find peace.
We’ll learn together.
 
I hope that in every moment you can stand and say “no matter what, I will be okay. I will find peace. I will find contentment. What I have and who I am is more than enough”.
 
I love you,
 
Love me x