On the twenty-second of May, I took an overnight bus from Levin up to Auckland. If I had realized before my trip that Wellington International is about nine or ten hours closer, I would have gotten tickets out of there instead. But alas, I did not. Another lesson learned for next time.
The first hour or two were fairly rotten, because I had the most uncomfortable seat on the bus. However, as people started getting dropped off, I was able to move to a seat with legroom and stretch out. The rest of the ride was a piece of cake. We stopped at around 2am at a little convenience store for toilets and refreshments. There were glass cases filled with all manner of pies, sandwiches, muffins, and pastries--and, like most places in this country, you pick them out yourself with tongs and place them in a paper pouch, then show your selections to the cashier. It felt like being in a bakery in the middle of the night. It was so lovely.
It was pouring rain when we arrived in Auckland, but I didn't want to pay for a bus from the domestic terminal to the international and so I sucked it up and walked the ten minutes. I knew I'd be in the airport all day and have plenty of time to dry.
That was where I did my favorite writing so far. I had intentionally left my laptop behind and unintentionally left my phone charger behind, so my big green notebook was my best friend for that whole day.
While waiting to board, I witnessed this kind of amazing interaction between a Maori girl and her friend:
Girl: "I'm so excited to go to...is it 'Australia'?"
Guy: *shakes head*
Girl: "I heard they ride kangaroos to school there."
Guy: *covers eyes*
Then, I flew Emirates for the first time, and let me tell you, they most certainly were not a letdown after flying AirNZ. Maybe it's just that all foreign airlines are better than U.S. ones. The staff was incredibly friendly, and I think they said they hailed from 19 different countries and spoke 17 different languages. And yes, it was a huge, double-decker plane. Before take-off, they came by with trays of steaming hot, lemon-scented cloths for us to refresh ourselves. (It felt so wonderful that I was genuinely looking forward to it on the way back.)
Then, maybe an hour into the really not very long flight, they served dinner (seriously, so impressed). I chose the Beef Rendang, and let me tell you, it was spectacular. I can still taste it. I've always thought of plane meals as being pretty second rate, but this was so flavorful and cooked to perfection. It had lots of little extras, too, like bread and cheese and chocolate. I could not have been more content. Oh, and they served little mini bottle of wine! SO cute, I had to try it. I chose the Sauvignon Blanc, and it was delicious.
Like AirNZ, all the in-flight entertainment was free. So I watched Project Almanac, which had been on my list of movies to experience this year, and enjoyed every second. I loved the style in which it was filmed and the authenticity of the dialogue. Also, lots of fresh faces.
I got into Sydney International around 7:30pm on the 23rd of May, and got an Opal card for the public transportation system (buses and trains) since I knew I'd be using it a lot. Plus, it's what all the locals have, and it's free--you just top it up with money. I missed the first train out because I couldn't find the right platform in time, so I had to wait about 15 minutes. I got the next one, and took it to Central and then changed lines to get to Concord West. Carolyn's son, Martin, was waiting for me and walked me through the semi-tricky back way to his and Kate's house. I didn't stay up for very long because I was pretty exhausted from the twenty-four hours of traveling.
 |
| Insert picture of the cute cats snuggling together |
Sunday morning, the 24th, I met the kids (Makayla and Jayden) and we ate cereal together in the family room. I borrowed an iPhone charger and my phone came back to life, and I plotted out which rail lines to use to get up north to Parramatta, the station where the Hillsong shuttle bus comes.
Oh yeah, Sunday was HILLSONG! That was the whole reason for the Sydney detour. We were at worship team practice before church earlier this year when Anthony Johns mentioned how close I would be to Australia and, therefore, Hillsong. He said I should go, but I said I probably couldn't afford to with all the other things I had planned. And my selfless, generous, godly, amazing big brother, Travis, said something along the lines of, "I would pay for you to go." I kind of laughed at first, then was like, "Wait, are you serious??" He was, and I gave him at least three chances to back out, but he didn't. So Travis paid for my round trip plane tickets to Sydney, and at some point I'll tell you about all the other financial blessings along the way. God has been so good to me.
So yes, Hillsong Day! I got really excited when I came out of the railway station, because I was able to help an elderly woman find her bus. That made me feel like a local, and it always feels good to help others.
I met four or five other Americans in the quickly-growing crowd outside the Max Brenner Chocolate Bar where the shuttle makes its pick-ups, and I think they were the first I had spoken to in the whole month I had been abroad. The conversations were enjoyable and passed the time quickly. We all ended up in a circle, trading stories. I particularly remember the quietest of all us women. She was telling me where she was from and what brought her to Australia, when she started frowning and having trouble finding words. Raising a hand to the ski cap covering her head, she said, "I'm sorry, I have cancer." It was the way she said it and went on speaking that struck me. Not as a claim for attention or sympathy. Only as an explanation.
Another of the women in our little circle, a lady with crazy blonde curls, told us all how she and her husband had begun to see their whole family going in different directions, like strangers in the same house. They knew it would take something drastic to shake them into coming back together as a family, so they and their two sons picked up and moved to Australia. We didn't get to hear the rest of her story, because the bus showed up, but I wanted to.
There were two lovely sort of shuttle hosts, who made us all feel very welcome and comfortable. With my Bible and travel diary in my lap and my heart as light as ever, I watched the streets go by as we drew nearer to Baulkham Hills. The woman behind me was playing United's new album on her home, which only increased the sense of excitement. I didn't realize what the music was at first, but one song ("for endless days, we will sing your praise") moved me so much that I had to ask what it was.
Then we were there, at the mythical Land of Hillsong--the original one, in fact. It could easily have been some huge convention center, given the size, the crowd, and the amount of food and drinks available for purchase. Despite the vastness, however, it did not feel so immense that I could get lost among the crowd. I also expected a sense that it was a "vacation church", where most of the people didn't live in the area, but I saw many people who were almost definitely regulars, which somehow made me feel more comfortable. This was just a normal Sunday for them.
I made my way inside and down onto the floor level, finding quite a good seat near the, for lack of a better word, catwalk.
Then the service began, and I got to hear Taya Smith lead worship at her home church rather than on a tour, and she, Matt, and the others sang the songs that had made an impact on the bus and several others. I wept at least once. My heart was full to bursting, and every word meant the world to me.
Then Brian Huston came out. The hosts on the bus had said that he was "back this week", which was received with great enthusiasm, and I now know why.
Brian Huston has a gift. He's an ordinary Aussie, but God has used him to begin a movement that has spread around the entire world. He has a gift for speaking to his fellow man and making everything seem clear. He has charisma, humor, humility, and passion. I've rarely enjoyed a message so much as that Sunday.
He opened his mouth and said, "This message is called: I'm Gifted," and I immediately thought, "Yep, this is where I'm supposed to be." I have struggled so much over the last few years with how to handle my gifts, how to view them, how to use them, how to deal with praise from others concerning them, and most of all, pride. Then I over-corrected the pride by reverting to diminishing myself and even doubting my gifts. So, sitting there in that enormous, stadium auditorium, I could actually visualize God parting the way and putting every little detail into place just so that I, Brittany Schmitt, could be in that room on that particular Sunday. I had originally planned to go to Ireland and England this year; then I ended up changing to New Zealand, but Australia wasn't the plan; then it was, but on a different weekend. One cancelled plane ticket later, I had finally arrived at the divine combination: Baulkham Hills in New South Wales, Australia, on the twenty-fourth of May, 2015. I have no doubt that every single change of plans and financial blessing along the way were all to reach that end goal.
I won't try to describe the full wonder and impact of the music or the message on that Sunday. I will say, however, that I raised my hand when Brian called for anyone who wanted to pray a prayer of new beginnings, whether they were already saved or not. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I knew I'd been running from God and trying to live in my own strength, growing more and more self-centered, and it was astonishing to me how readily my hand flew into the air, as high as it would go. No trying to talk myself into it, no mental countdown. Just: I'm ready to change NOW. No more waiting. I had to make a choice. Here's to new beginnings.
 |
| Taya Smith |
I had planned to go back for the evening service, but I chose instead to stay with the Hill family and thus enjoyed a fun evening featuring the neighborhood playground and truly glorious pizza.
Later, I was watching The Blind Side on Netflix in the living room when Martin and Kate joined me. Kate asked, "What's this?" Martin immediately replied, "It's a chick flick." "No, it's like a family movie," I countered. He turned back to Kate. "So, a chick flick."
 |
No comments:
Post a Comment