Back in The Age - more about holidays, with a faith angle

A hundred years ago, my grandparents bought an acre of land five minutes walk from the beach at Anglesea. Four years later, they built a weatherboard shack there and aptly named it The Hut. This same place, with a couple of useful additions such as an indoor toilet, is where we go whenever life permits, and for two glorious weeks after Christmas each year.

Here I do the things my parents and grandparents did to unwind: walk, swim, read, talk to the family, gaze into the open fire. Some days I sit on the main beach and people watch: the effortlessly lithe and golden teenagers with their mating rituals; the sun-kissed, kaftan-clad mums with a clutch of small, wet-suited children; the dads, sweetly attentive with boogie board, bucket and spade, bat and ball. Mostly, though, I head for beaches, which, even at this time of year, are almost empty of people – just me and the ocean, the gleaming sand and the wide blue sky. Anglesea is the one place in the world I am most relaxed.

And yet… I don’t find it easy to relax at any time, particularly on holiday. My personality and background ensure that I only really feel like a worthwhile human being when I am being ‘productive’. People bang on about Catholic guilt but trust me, no one does guilt better than someone deeply in thrall to the good old Protestant Work Ethic.

In Melbourne, in the middle of a normal, busy working week of getting up before dawn and going hard all day, I think longingly of slow mornings in bed with a detective novel and serial cups of tea, endless time to walk, swims whenever I feel like it, hours spent simply staring at gum trees tossing outside the window. When I am actually doing all these lovely things, however, I feel guilty.

I don’t deserve a break any more than anyone else. But a holiday is a great reminder of how dispensable each of us is. As a Christian, I long to learn to enjoy my holiday trusting that God won’t be angry with me for slacking off. Holidays, like the day time naps I so enjoy, are a precious reminder of the Christian concept of grace: God loves me exactly the same whether I am buzzing around like a little worker bee feeling virtuous, or lolling on my verandah listening to the kookaburras. Sometimes I think my life’s work is to learn, in the centre of my being that I am loved no matter what. Maybe when I am an old lady, I will be able to relax in God’s immense and unconditional love. Maybe I’ll even come to The Hut and not feel guilty about having a lazy holiday.