I’ve always imagined a squirrel's nest as a hole in the trunk of a tree lined with soft feathers and leaves to keep them warm. Given that we don’t have squirrels in Western Australia, I’ve relied on picture books and movies to accurately depict a squirrel's nest, and I’ve never questioned it—then again, maybe Bali squirrels are a different breed. At this moment, I’m sitting on my hotel balcony watching squirrels dive in and out of a hive-like contraption of sticks, twigs, and leaves, somehow held together between the outer bushy branches of a tree. I’d love to know what holds it all together: tree sap? Saliva? Human hair?

I was sitting at the dining table one morning in August 2023, after another sleepless night, spoon feeding my 12 month old baby girl as she sat in her high chair. Weary and worn out after months of sleep deprivation and doing life with 3 little, somewhat spicy, humans under 6 - I turned to the Psalms seeking refreshment for my tired heart (not that I could read well through my puffy, blow fish eyes). I had read the words of Psalm 23 many times, but this morning, in God’s kindness and in my desperate need, they had a particular effect on my heart.