The Afterword

Category: Daily Prompt

  • Unwinding

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    by

    Peter
    in

    I’m not sure I do this very well.Even the question—how do you unwind?—makes me pause. It doesn’t trigger a confident answer, but a kind of internal audit. I don’t have a ritual for it, not really. Not in the conventional sense. Unwinding, for me, is functional. It isn’t about indulgence; it’s about rhythm. I’ve learned…

  • Closer Than You Knew

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    Peter
    in

    People have always told stories—about gods who died,about love that survives death,about light returning after darkness. Before theology,before churches,there were questionsand songsand open hands. We reached outbecause something in usknew there was more. Some saythese old storieswere just wrong turns—ways of avoiding God. But I thinkthey were honest guesses,not perfect,but not pointless. They came from…

  • Two Deaths, One Cross

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    by

    Peter
    in ,

    There are two ways to tell the story—two levels on which death can be thought. One is sweat and struggle,politics and betrayal,the kind of death you can reconstructwith names and timelines,a corrupt priesthood guarding its place,a Roman governor playing at peacewhile fearing a riot.Crowds sway like reeds in a storm.This is the deaththat history books…

  • Feels Like Belonging

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    by

    Peter
    in ,

    The parking lot was packedand I don’t even know whybut I just pulled inon a Wednesday night in Lent.The room is quiet.A few candles,three readings from Isaiah,the faint scent of old wood and ash. A woman two rows ahead is crying—not loudly,just the kind of cryingthat keeps goingbecause no one stops it. The minister says,you…

  • A Kind of Home

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    by

    Peter
    in

    Sometimes the people we need most are the ones we’ve never met before. There’s something oddly tender about the first conversation you have with a stranger—especially when it happens in a room full of strangers, where no one yet knows how the story will go. That first confession, “I’ve never done this before,” offered by…

  • What I Didn’t Plan

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    Peter
    in

    I’ve always been a learner—curious, studious, and passionate by temperament. At times, it has felt more like an obsession than a strength. The rhythm of learning, the unravelling of new ideas, the delight in fresh perspectives—it energises me. But looking back, I realise that one particular decision set in motion a pattern that has shaped…

  • Still, I Stay

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    by

    Peter
    in

    —from the voice of a Syrian in exile I have never stopped dreaming of the olive trees.Even now,in this camp of sand and plastic walls,I see them when I close my eyes—the way their shadows fell across my grandfather’s fieldbefore everything cracked and scattered. Home is a scent that never fades.It lives in cardamom coffee,in…

  • Legacy

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    by

    Peter
    in

    It started with a quiet hello,a question, May I walk you home?From that step forward,you walked together—steady, respectful, kind. You built a life without fanfare,through distance and duty,through saving, working, studying late,through raising a familyon love, not luxury. Your home was never just walls—it was presence.A place where needs were met,where laughter grew around the…

  • The Hospitality of the Compost Tip

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    by

    Peter
    in

    Jerome flew inwith a rice cooker in his suitcase.Because true welcomeis a bit ridiculous—overflowing, steaming,offering more than anyone expects. The table beginsat the compost pile.Where spoiled fruit,forgotten herbs,and bruised generositybegin again. Hospitality isn’t tidy.It’s sticky, loud,full of smellsyou didn’t choose. But somewhere betweenthe rot and the rice,the mess and the meal,the ground is turning over.…

  • Bucket Lists and Buffett Lists

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    Peter
    in ,

    There’s something intoxicating about a bucket list. The name itself is cheeky and rebellious—do these things before you kick the bucket. It suggests urgency, vibrancy, life-before-death. Bucket lists seduce us with a sense of possibility: Swim in Icelandic hot springs. Walk the Great Wall. Eat something unpronounceable in a night market at midnight. The irony,…

  • The Happiness I Didn’t Buy

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    Peter
    in

    Let me start with what I am not. I am not a consumer, at least not in the way the world often defines it. I buy what I need—groceries, dog food, replacement socks. But I’ve never found myself wandering through a shopping centre just to “see what’s new.” I don’t crave the latest model of…

  • The Architecture of Relationship

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    Peter
    in

    They say school prepares you for life, but I think it’s more accurate to say it reveals you to yourself. If that’s true, then high school was the first place I caught a glimpse of the person I was becoming—the kind of person I wanted to be. I didn’t have the classic prelude. No pre-school…

  • One Brave Yes

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    Peter
    in

    Thirty years ago, I said yes to something that made my knees knock. Not a yes to danger or fame or anything that would impress my teenage self. Not a bungee jump or skydiving. No. This was far more terrifying: Creative writing. Even saying it still feels strange in my mouth, like speaking a second…

  • To Move Together

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    Peter
    in

    It’s a simple enough question—what’s the most fun way to exercise? But for me, the answer loops around in unexpected directions, landing somewhere between the paradoxical and the profound. The short answer is: with people. Always with people. But not just any people. And certainly not in any way. This in itself is strange. I’m…

  • This Book Reads Me

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    by

    Peter
    in

    Well—not a book, exactly. A library. A sprawling, ancient, living library. The Bible. It’s the one I return to daily, not because I’ve mastered it, but because I haven’t. Not even close. You can’t really read it like other books. Not from start to finish, as though it were a novel or a textbook. Genesis…

  • On Being John Keating

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    Peter
    in

    If I could step into the shoes of any character from a book or film, I’d be tempted to choose John Keating from Dead Poets Society. Robin Williams brings him to life with that inimitable, twinkling mischief in his eye—the kind of teacher who walks on desks, encourages rebellion with flair, and dares students to…

  • Shadow, Stillness, Shine

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    Peter
    in

    We’ve always had female border collies. Maybe it started with Footrot Flats—those funny cartoons full of loyal friends with more personality than most people. Maybe it was happenstance. Either way, dogs have walked beside us throughout our married life, and they’ve each left their pawprints on us in different ways. Jessie was our first. Fresh…

  • Staying Soft

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    Peter
    in

    When I was a teenager, I heard someone say something that stayed with me: that he was lucky because he got paid to do what he would gladly do for nothing. He was a minister—an evangelist, to be precise—and his job was to tell people what he knew about God. And people paid him to…

  • The Quiet Ones

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    Peter
    in

    As an Australian, it almost feels like swimming is part of our DNA. We’re a coastal people—literally. Around 87% of us live within 50 kilometres of the coastline. All of our major cities hug the shore. That’s over 22 million people who call the coast home, and when we talk about the “classic Aussie holiday,”…

  • Heartbeat

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    by

    Peter
    in

    There is something precious about the season of life that university represents. These years are often full of energy and possibility, and Robert Menzies College (RMC) gives space for students to embrace that—to enjoy the strength in their bodies, the openness of their futures, and the gift of being with others who are also finding…