Cornwall.

I spend a lot of my time in Cornwall. I don't consider myself 'cornish' but it's definitely more a home than anywhere else. The beach is like a familiar friend; I know every cave and cliff walk; I can tell you what rock-fall is new, every different tideline or where a sandbank used to be. As a child I was dragged round on a surfboard through each little puddle, as a teenager I jumped off nearly every rock-face. It's private, small, England's undiscovered treasure, and I fully intend to visit it's beach every year of my life. Walking on the cliffs, I feel closer to God than I do anywhere else in the world; watching the sea is like watching Him breath. The landscape is incredible. I struggle to NOT believe when I'm stood there, cold toes, wind on face, inside the world. But what is really beautiful about it, is what it doesn't have. There is no internet, and almost no signal. When we escape to Cornwall it's like we burrow beneath the world and lay there in hiding for a few weeks. Looking back I don't know what I would have done without that space to run to. It's like a pocket of air. It's family too. Tradition. It's the old and new mingled together; I sleep in a bed I've slept in since I was five, in a room that still has the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up on the ceiling. Yet at the same time I'm living in the present, making new memories inside the walls that hold my past. Cornwall is definitely a home like no other; and a great spot for some photography too......

Who are you?

I recently re-wrote the summary of myself over at The TeaHouse. And decided to post it on here, because as I was writing it got a little bit (a teensy bit) philosophical...! And I thought you all should hear what I have to say about defining yourself...

Who am I?

It's something I, and every other person who has ever been a teenager, has been trying to work out for a good while now. Who actually are we? And I've worked out that most of us take our identity from the things we DO. For example;

A social-bee defines him/herself by the amount of friends they have.

A work-a-holic defines him/herself by how good they are at their job.

A religious person defines him/herself by how 'good' they can make themselves.

If you fall into either one of these categories, or even another one, then you are in danger. Placing who you are on what you do is like balancing a priceless and fragile ornament on a tower of matchsticks. It's a silly thing to do, as I have learnt only too well. Because it will definitely come tumbling down at one point or another. The moment you loose a friend, fail at work, do something bad- you are thrown into crisis and have to desperately search for something, anyhting to regain your sense of self-worth and piece yourself back together. We've all been there, haven't we? So it's a dangerous question, but a vital one:

Who am I?

I think what christians have discovered, and myself among them, is something wonderful. We acknowledge that we WILL do bad things, we WILL mess up at work and in relationships. We know that the tower will crumble and we can't draw our identity from something that keeps on smashing, keeps on letting us down. It's ultimately self-destructive. But so is gaining your identity from the fact that you will always fail, which is what happens eventually to a lot of people: Who am I? I am a failure, I am a failure, I am a failure. NO. Christians defy this. They define themselves like this:

I am a failure, but God has redeemed me.

God has made me whole. God has picked me up and put me on my feet.

I am who I am because He is who He is.

And there's the truth of it.

I can go around and live my life; working hard because he wants me to, making relationships to show just a little bit of that love which he gives me, trying to be 'good' not for my own sake, but for his. I can live my life BETTER, and TO THE FULL because of God's love for me. If I lose a friend, mess up at work, do something bad; I can take it back to the cross. I can know that I am defined by God's love. And God's love is something that will never change; it is as constant as day and night and THAT is what I base my identity on. So in whatever situation, whether I'm friendless, penniless, sinful, alone, hated, segregated, I can always always say:

Who am I?

I am Milla, loved by God.

(Cheesey. But it packs a punch eh?)

Meet my friends.

Meet my friends. The most hilarious bunch of nineteen year-olds you have ever seen or heard. You may be thinking: I've never encountered these girls before in my life! But trust me, you have. If you have ever heard an orchestra of screaming and giggling further down the street, behind you in the cinema, on that other table in the restaurant, ahead of you on a walk, somewhere in a museum, in church, in a swimming pool- that was us. That was definitely us. We ARE those girls that everyone finds so PAINFUL to deal with on a train, aeroplane, bus or any form of public transport. I wouldn't say we delight in this destruction of peace, more that it is an unconscious side-effect of our explosive friendship. We are used to the glares from strangers, and do, believe it or not, try to stifle the laughs and quell the jokes- it doesn't often work. But our flammable and eruptive relationship makes us friends as well as enemies. The waiters, for example, at our favourite restaurant in Croatia (for some reason we thought it would be a good idea to take such anarchy overseas) became such 'chums' that they bordered on joining in with the camaraderie. Suffice to say- we gave them a large tip. We even began a conga on the street with a few more kindred spirits! So these are my friends, and for a long while I genuinely believed them integral to my identity. But university has stretched us thin, pulling us all to different places across the nation; proving that though my I don't DEPEND on them, I miss them immensely. I can only wait for the time when we eight are reunited (maybe Cornwall this year; a student has to budget!) and the ear-defeaning, scowl-winning, side-splittingly chaos may continue.