As I enter my sixties, I find myself reflecting on the many lessons life has taught me. As we move through life, we grow, change, and hopefully gain a deeper understanding of what truly matters. I sometimes wonder whether our spiritual lives evolve in the same way. Do we change in our understanding of faith, or do life's experiences simply help us see things differently?
My connection with the church began during a difficult period of my life. After my parents died in 1982, I went to live with Leo and Anita Kubiel as a 16-year-old. They welcomed me into their home as a foster daughter, and although I only lived with them for two years, they have continued to include me as family ever since. Their kindness and example helped shape my understanding of family, belonging, and care for others.
Life with my biological parents had been challenging, so having foster parents who could model a healthy and loving family life was a blessing. Later, marriage and raising three daughters taught me even more about family life, how beautiful it can be, but also how demanding and complex.
Now, as a single mother of adult daughters, I have discovered that I cope best with a simpler life. I no longer feel the need to fill every moment or carry every responsibility. Work, home life, and spending time with my children and grandchildren is enough. While I have continued to participate in retreats and camps, I don't attend church regularly. Yet one lesson from my younger years has stayed with me: you don't have to go to church to be a Christian. For me, trying to be a good person and asking, "What would God want me to do?" has remained an important guide.
Another lesson came in 1983 when the Ash Wednesday bushfires swept through Victoria. At the time, most of my belongings were stored at the Kubeils' home. The fires destroyed nearly everything, and the Kubiels lost all they owned. Looking back, I realised how fortunate I was and how little material possessions truly matter. It was a hard lesson, but an important one.
Over the years, life has continued to present challenges. More recently, my lifelong friend Kathryn, whom I have known since I was eight years old, experienced the loss of her husband to Motor Neurone Disease. Watching her journey reinforced something I had learned many times before: in difficult seasons, it is family, friendship, and community that become our greatest assets.
Just recently, Kathryn and I travelled together on a cruise to Papua New Guinea. What began as a holiday became another opportunity for reflection.
In Alotau, we visited local villages and witnessed the importance of extended family and community life. The locals spoke openly about their history, their struggles, and their gratitude for the opportunities they now have. Their warmth and generosity toward visitors left a lasting impression on me.
In Kiriwina, I was particularly moved by seeing passengers sharing books and stories with local children. Watching children gather around to listen reminded me how powerful simple acts of kindness can be. It also prompted me to reflect on how much I often take for granted.
Our final stop was Rabaul, where we visited another village and heard stories of resilience, hardship, and community support. Again, I was struck by the generosity shown both by the villagers and by those visiting them. This experience reminded me of our travelling World Church leaders who dedicate their lives to serving and supporting remote church communities.
During our time there, I also found myself reflecting on the history of the region and the stories we heard about the Second World War. Seeing the landscape and learning more about what had taken place there gave me a greater appreciation for the courage and sacrifice of those who served. I thought about the servicemen who endured the intense heat, difficult conditions, and dangers of war. It reminded me that many of the freedoms we enjoy today came at a great cost.
Throughout the trip, I was humbled by the resilience of the people we met and by the strong sense of connection they shared with their families and communities. It reinforced lessons I have been learning throughout my life: that possessions come and go, circumstances change, and plans do not always unfold as we expect. What endures are our relationships, our compassion for one another, and our willingness to share what we have.
If there is one lesson that has stayed with me through all these experiences, it is this: money and possessions are not the measure of a rich life. If we can live simply, care for those around us, and give what we can, we help make the world a better place.
Those are some of the life lessons that have shaped me and continue to do so.
Debbie Davies