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7241fb8f0288f35223d437414d55fff6

If you’ve known me, had a conversation with me or stared at me for longer than about 37 seconds (side note: don’t stare for that long, it’s creepy), you know that I am a passionate person of extremes. In short, I don’t do balance.

It’s why I choose crossfit over yoga (and I’ll tell you about it over, and over, and over again… while lifting… bro).

It’s why I choose nothing but salad and water, or chocolate and hamburgers and fries and soda.

It’s why, a few years ago, I suddenly decided to cut my waist-length hair to above my neck. Note to self: don’t go to the hairdressers with a jetlag-induced state of “just feeling like a change.”

It’s why I passionately love or passionately dis-love (I don’t like the h-word).

It’s a really fun way to live, as long as I don’t have to wait for anything… Ever.  That’s reasonable, right?

Balance is something I’m working on. I’ll keep you posted.

Recently, as you have probably guessed from my not-so-subtle blogs, I’ve been in a season of waiting and a time of learning to trust the ‘process.’ It’s like I’ve been in a holding pattern with no immediate exit, so I’ve been flying around and around, handing out free drinks to the parts of me that were getting impatient and trying to reassure them we would be landing soon.

I was asking God for my tarmac destination, for where He wanted me to land. I was open to whatever He wanted; I just didn’t want to land in the wrong place (and I really don’t mean figuratively... you’ll see).

I didn’t want to make the wrong decision. So I waited.

... And waited.

... And waited.

Being the extreme, fast-paced girl that I have finally accepted I am, holding patterns are not my idea of a good time. But what I now see through hindsight (aka my favourite thing since Diet Coke) is that I was being forced to learn to wait. I was being forced to be patient. I was being forced to love the process, or at the very least, become acquaintances with it (although I probably wouldn’t invite it to my wedding).

Finally… And in His own timing… God spoke.

After five months of flying around, waiting to get my landing coordinates from the ultimate control tower, I had two landing options. Not one. Two. When it rains it pours, right?

I had two options before me. And I realised the final decision was up to me. God was giving me the choice. Both directions would lead me to the same eventual mark God was taking me, but for now, I was the one who needed to land this plane.

So, I took a deep breath, attempted to keep calm (but failed because I don’t do yoga)… And decided.

And the thought of where I’m landing simultaneously terrifies me and excites me… And that’s exactly why I chose it.

So, where is that place? Here goes:

In about two weeks I am moving to America. #murica. (See, now the plane metaphor just took on a whole new meaning.. I have an inkling I am somewhat of a creative genius).

I am moving to Los Angeles, the City of Angels. That’s my kind of city.

Before you assume, there’s much more to this move than hiking, sipping lattes and making excessive trips to Disneyland in hopes of being spotted as a princess. I’m following the call of God, and Mickey Mouse just so happens to be in the same city.

A few years ago I struck up an unlikely friendship with Ps Holly Wagner. Well, let’s be honest, it wasn’t all that unlikely, we’re both blonde and loud… I guess it was bound to happen eventually.

Holly, alongside her husband Philip, pastors Oasis Church in Hollywood. In my opinion it's one of the greatest churches in the world, and I'm not just saying that because I'm moving there, in fact it's one of the core reasons why I am moving there. Their love for the people of LA isn't just inspiring it's contagious, like a cough, except nothing like it. Ok, bad analogy. At first I admired the love they had for the people of LA, and then I found myself loving the city, the culture and the people of LA. That kind of contagious (much better).

Their vision? To find the lost and point them home. Clear. Convicting. Compelling.

That's my kind of church. They're my kind of pastors.

I will never forget the first time I walked into their church. They were mid-worship and I thought I had just walked into a Broadway production. I had Goosebumps at the harmonies, the vibe and the Presence of God in that room. I remember sighing away a prayer that went something like, “please God, let me be a part of this..”

After a few visits to their church, numerous hikes at Runyon Canyon, and a completely captivated heart, a conversation started. It started without me, in fact I was clueless for a while. It was between the Wagners and my parents – I guess they were smart enough to get my parents permission before they unveiled my dream right in front of me.

And once the dream was unveiled, there would be no shutting it down.

Fast-forward six months, and I have taken my leap of faith. I have accepted a role which gives me the privilege of coming onto the Oasis’ Youth and Young Adults team (I told you it was exciting and terrifying).

So this church kid is moving from the sunny beaches of Sydney to the Sunset Strip of Hollywood. And I couldn’t be more excited about my new city. I hope you’ll come on the journey with me as I blog about the ups and downs and missed exit signs, I'm sure there'll be plenty.

Watch out LA, I’m comin for ya’ll (yeah, I really have to work on that)

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