Have we forgotten what really matters?

A decade ago I was working as the Service Manager of an Aboriginal Corporation in a tiny little regional Australian town. It’s fair to say it was a life changing experience.

That life change didn’t come from the mystical nor heartwarming stories one may expect of an experience of this ilk. It actually came from the realisation of what it is that really matters — and asking over 200 people the same question.

When I was asked to take on the role I grabbed the opportunity with both hands — despite having a very young family, an unstable marriage and a whole bunch of other things going on some may summarise under the title ‘life’.

This experience, I was sure was the one I had been waiting for after contracting for many years. A calling, I believed. And I couldn’t be entirely blamed for indulging in the serendipitous elements of the arrangement — the service was based in a house that my great-grandfather had owned, a house that my dad and his eight siblings had spent time in as small children. I was a fifth generation resident of the little town and although I didn’t grow up there, I felt a sense of belonging I had not previously experienced. Because of my long family history in the place people knew me, even though I didn’t have a clue who they were (well, not in the beginning anyway).