Do you ever feel that you just can’t go on? You wonder whether you have anything left to draw on and how to keep going? There is so much going on on the planet right now, and our lives are busier than ever. It can be so hard.

I used to work in the far north-west of Australia, in small Aboriginal communities, assisting the traditional landowners to run their community stores. I spent every second week in a small community called Djugerari.

To get there I would need to drive out from Fitzroy Crossing and towards the edge of the Great Sandy Desert, passing through five gates as I did so. Each time I came to a gate, I would have to stop the 4wd, get out to open the gate, get back in, drive 10 metres, get out, shut the gate and then repeat the same at the next four gates. You get the picture.

Oh, and the sunscreen. I have such fair skin and so I lathered myself with sunscreen before I left, to protect my skin from that burning sun. By the time I got there I would be covered in red dirt, conveniently stuck to my sunscreen, with my skin the consistency of sand paper.

It was hot, there was a lot of red dirt and it was dry, so dry.

One morning as I made the trip out there, I pulled into the tiny community and stopped under a tree outside the school. As I pulled up, I sat there with my throat on fire, hot, thirsty and wondering how or if I could go on.

Then, all of a sudden I heard a young voice cry out from the school, “It’s Lure!” Then another “Lure’s here!” and then another until there was a chorus of voices calling my name and all the children ran out of the classroom to the balcony, jumping up, waving to me and calling to me. My heart flooded with warmth and joy, I took a deep breath and I kept going.

So, I’m wondering, what keeps you going?

What floods your heart with joy so that it all becomes worthwhile?

Because it can be so hard. Sometimes what we love and how we love is part of why we get so depleted. When you care about the environment, about your community, your family and so much more, it can take its toll. 

Because what I learned early on in that community was that my real job was not contained by my job description. My real job was about the people there, and our relationships. It was about love, and letting myself be loved. It was about keeping on coming back to love. And about surrendering to all of that.