The Afterword

Tag: writing

  • When Everything Happens

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    Peter
    in

    One minute I’m laughing with Kate Bowler, the next I’m quiet. That’s the effect she has—a sharp observer of life’s contradictions, able to name both the absurd and the sacred in the same breath. She grew up in a Mennonite megachurch in Winnipeg—an unlikely mix of pacifism and spectacle. She now teaches at Duke Divinity…

  • The Gift of Quiet Hours

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    Peter
    in

    I usually go to bed at 9.00pm. After a full day, I’m ready for it. There’s no fanfare—just a slow wind-down and sleep not far behind. And then I wake at 4.30am. No alarm, no urgency. Just the quiet sense that the day has begun. It feels like I’m the only one awake—until I start…

  • Morning Pages, Morning Peace

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    Peter
    in

    For me, writing is one of the most reliable sources of comfort. I don’t journal in the traditional sense—there’s no “dear diary” and no record of what I did the day before. Instead, I write about something that has caught my attention, or I respond to a prompt like this one. Some mornings, my mind…

  • What Excites Me Now

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    Peter
    in

    There was a time when excitement meant chasing new goals — building a career, learning new things, and taking opportunities as they came. I’m not someone who lives for travel, but whether for work, family, or leisure, we’ve ended up visiting every continent — including some very wild places. Antarctica earlier this year was a…

  • When Peace and Principle Collide

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    Peter
    in

    A reflection on ideological certainty and harmony I am known for being easy to get along with. And also, for being stubborn. It’s a combination that puzzles people. I don’t mind that. I’ve learned over time that harmony doesn’t come from sameness, and peace doesn’t come from everyone agreeing with me. I don’t need to…

  • What Is Your Favorite Genre of Music? It depends on the day. And sometimes, it is a surprise.

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    by

    Peter
    in

    Some people have a favourite genre like they have a favourite coffee order — fixed, dependable, always the same. I’m not one of those people. For me, music is mood. It’s memory. It’s atmosphere and longing and curiosity all rolled together. My listening habits are not about allegiance to a particular genre but about what…

  • A Small Echo of What You Gave

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    Peter
    in

    Over the past year, I’ve found myself expressing gratitude in a new way — through writing. More specifically, through poems. Most Sundays, after church, I write a short reflective poem in response to the sermon. I started doing this quietly, almost experimentally, as a way of thinking more deeply about the message that I heard.…

  • A Day in the Life (With Minor Interruptions)

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    Peter
    in

    My days start early. I get up around 4:30am—sometimes earlier, sometimes later. I never set an alarm. It’s just when I wake up. I wasn’t always a morning person—in my 20s I was the opposite—but the older I get, the earlier I rise. The first thing I do is feed the animals. Both the dog…

  • The Outfit I’d Be Willing to Be Known For

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    Peter
    in

    Or, The Guy in the Red Vest If I had to wear one outfit over and over again, I already know what it would be. Not because it’s the most flattering thing I’ve ever owned, or the most fashionable. But because I’ve already worn it, over and over. And I’ve already been known for it.…

  • A Royal Waste of Time: Why I Wish I Wasted More

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    Peter
    in

    This is an intriguing question: How do you waste the most time every day?Part of me wonders—do I waste enough? Marva Dawn wrote a book I’ve returned to often, titled A Royal Waste of Time. She suggests that much of our modern thinking—even in worship—gets caught up in outcomes and effectiveness. Did it connect? Did…

  • The Plinth

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    Peter
    in

    Scene 1: The Plinth (Tuesday) Every Saturday, the crowds came.They spilled from trains and buses, jerseys clinging to skin, faces painted in club colours. At the edge of the plaza, the bronze footballer stood frozen—one leg raised, mid-kick, triumph etched into the sinews of his cast-metal thigh. Children climbed the plinth. Tourists struck poses. On…

  • The Crush That Wasn’t

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    Peter
    in

    I was 17 and had just unlocked the holy trinity of teenage freedom: a driver’s license, a half-reliable car, and parents who happily filled the tank. Enter: her. Sixteen. Bright. Cheerful. Needed a lift home from youth group. Or outings. Or basically anywhere that I could feasibly drive without stalling. I had a crush. A…

  • What I Hold

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    Peter
    in

    Every so often, I find myselfreaching for the map again,not the one with borders and rail lines,but the one folded somewhere in my chest—creased with names I’ve never spoken aloud,warmed by places I haven’t stood inbut already miss. I hold England like an heirloom—my grandmother in Leeds,the streets she might have walkedwith a loaf under…

  • Kindness, with a Key

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    Peter
    in

    For me, it would be my car — a 2006 Honda Accord.It’s coming up for its 20th birthday next year and has 250,000 km on the clock. I’m the third owner. I bought it from friends I know well — the kind of people who are fastidious with everything they own. I’d dropped in to…

  • A Piece of the Past

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    Peter
    in

    I was running a memoir writing course for a group of older adults, including my mother and father. As part of a writing exercise, we laid out a range of objects on a table—simple items intended to spark memories. Each participant was invited to choose one and use it as a prompt for free writing.…

  • Where It All Began

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    Peter
    in

    Today we began the drive home after two weeks in the Northern Rivers region of New South Wales. It’s been a beautiful holiday—sunny days, cool nights, slow mornings, and long walks with the dog along beaches where she could run free. She was wonderful company, curling up contentedly each night after her seaside adventures. We…

  • A Reflection on Passion, People, and Quiet Convictions

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    Peter
    in

    A lot of my passions begin quietly, relationally, with a gentle nudge toward something or someone worth noticing. Over the years, I’ve come to realise that I’m passionate about a handful of things—though they don’t always shout their name. They don’t always dress up as “passion” the way the world defines it. But they endure.…

  • Using Your Time Off to Draw Near

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    Peter
    in

    “What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?” It’s a question that often pops up in interviews or icebreaker games—lighthearted, maybe even fun. But the more I sat with it, the more uncomfortable I felt. The premise behind the question assumes a world of excess. It normalises indulgence as necessity. Yet the vast majority of…

  • Making It Happen—Without Making a Fuss

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    Peter
    in

    I was once given a “Make It Happen Award” at work. It surprised me. I’ve never been the “charge ahead and take the hill” type. I’m not the loudest voice in the room. I don’t pound the table or dominate the agenda. But making things happen can look different. Sometimes it’s a quiet conversation that…

  • Before the Days Draw Near

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    Peter
    in

    A reflection written for Robert Menzies College, Valedictory Dinner 2024 Remember your Creator in the days of your youth—when light poured freely, even in early mornings,and the world felt carved just for you,like soft clay in young hands. Before the hard questions come,before the weight of wondering presses in,find joy in laughter echoing down long…