I left my AirPods in Tasmania. As far as I know, they’re either chilling by the Little Blue Lake, swimming with the platypi in the Ringarooma River, or, most likely, wedged between the bed and the century-old wall of a small hotel room in Winnaleah. 

I first discovered the AirPods were missing after my sister and I had driven two and a half hours southeast to our next destination—there was no going back. Within minutes of checking every bag and pocket for the little white case, I messaged the hotel owners and begged them to search for them.  Sadly, there was no luck finding them, not yet anyway. Over the course of our holiday, sporadic hours were spent browsing online earphone sales, but I never bought a new pair. There was still the possibility that they’d turn up in the post. But it felt strange without them. I don’t have them constantly attached to my ears, but I do use them while walking the dog, going to the gym, or, when I can’t be bothered with a screen or a book and would rather listen to music in bed. 

Everything I do accommodates two 

From the coffee I pour in the morning 

To the seven extra mugs in my drawer 

To the spare camping chair 

Tucked in the footwell beneath the door 

And the extra van keys 

I get it, I get it - not everyone loves sport. Perhaps sport evokes memories of enforced laps during PE lessons, or spectacular unco-ordinated free-falling on the football field.

Perhaps you would share the perspective of my Year 10 form teacher. Upon looking at my truly ridiculous list of extracurricular activities—at peak craziness I was in four different sporting teams at the same time—she asked incredulously, “When do you have time to have life?” To me, being in four sporting teams was ‘having a life’!

If you are like my form teacher, then I ask for your indulgence for a few minutes. I invite you to step inside the mind of a person like me. A person who genuinely loves throwing, catching, kicking and shooting balls of all shapes and sizes. A person who loves sport. 

I am learning that friendship needs a sustained curiosity to last the distance.  Last week I sat by a pool with a couple of good friends. We sat in the shade, ate snacks and swapped book recommendations between dips into the glistening water.  It has been over fifteen years since we forged our friendship. One of us has an appetite for bike riding, another loves attending live country music and the third enjoys ocean swimming. Perhaps these interests have not changed much over the years, but we have. We attend different kinds of churches, have different strengths and have not followed the life paths that we expected for ourselves when we were in our twenties.  Nonetheless, we enjoy a warm curiosity towards one another that has sustained and deepened our friendship. If we had assumed on being the same people that we were when we met, our friendships may not have continued. 

See the galahs, the galahs, 

sitting on the powerlines! 

See how they laugh, they laugh, 

like mums on the sidelines 

Community is beautiful and needed but I haven’t always believed this. I once thought I could grow in my faith without Christian community. So much so that I chose to leave church because I believed I didn’t “need it”. This was a selfish and prideful viewpoint, but did I see it as that at the time? Most certainly not. I was blinded by my own behaviour. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting myself. I thought it’d help me to heal. I couldn’t be further from the truth.