Little Wren Writes

Hi. I’m Renee, though I’ve recently started warming to the nickname Ren.

Firstly, I drink an unreasonable amount of tea.

Secondly, I tend to think about life…a lot.

I’m a children’s and youth minister in Sydney, Australia, I’ve started to become a bit obsessed with blue wrens, I love having deep and long conversations, and I think I’m quite good at noticing the small things that often get overlooked. I also know something of grief, anxiety, joy, friendship, healing, and the quiet faithfulness of God in ordinary days.

Over the past year or so, writing has become an unexpected gift. Not because I’ve figured life out. Far from it.

But because I’ve discovered that writing helps me slow down long enough to notice what’s happening in my own heart. Sometimes it helps me untangle thoughts I didn’t even realise I was carrying. Sometimes it becomes a prayer. Sometimes it’s simply a conversation with myself that I hope might encourage someone else too.

So I’ve decided to begin sharing some of those reflections here.

For the next little while, I’m going to work my way through the alphabet of emotions.

Not because I’m a psychologist, and not because I’m an expert. Or even because I should be sponsored by Kleenex.

Simply because I’m a fellow traveller who is still learning what it means to be human – and what it looks like to meet God in every part of that humanity.

Each letter will pair two emotions or experiences that seem, at first glance, completely unrelated.

Anxiety & Awe.

Bitterness & Belonging.

Confidence & Curiosity.

Some will be uncomfortable. Some will be joyful. Some might surprise me. Perhaps they’ll surprise you too.

One thing I’ve been slowly learning is that emotions aren’t problems to solve. They’re invitations to pay attention.

Fear might reveal what we value. Grief reminds us that we have loved deeply. Joy gives us a glimpse of the goodness of God. Wonder teaches us to look up. Even the emotions we’d rather avoid often have something important to say.

So these aren’t going to be theological essays or self-help guides. They’re simply reflections.

Little stories.

Questions.

Bits of Scripture.

Ordinary moments that have quietly pointed me back to an extraordinary God.

My hope isn’t that you’ll agree with every word I write. My hope is that, somewhere along the way, you’ll recognise a little of your own story in mine.

And perhaps, together, we’ll become people who pay a little more attention – to our hearts, to one another, and to the God who has been gently present all along.

Thanks for pulling up a chair.

The kettle’s on.

Let’s begin with A.