5 MINUTE READ

From Luke’s Journal May 2025 | Vol. 30 No. 1 | MIMBY

We live in a rural town, gateway to the Victorian ski fields, surrounded by rolling hills in every direction. Some will call it paradise. 

So, who’s ‘we’? First off, there’s Samuel – an indomitable three year old destined to be a politician. His older brother Joseph, is simply proud as punch he can now wear a uniform to school. Then there’s Denise, the local pharmacist and wife to the local GP. Finally, there’s me, the local GP.

It all sounds pretty standard, except for the fact that Denise once moonlighted as the local taxi driver. This was back when we took over the taxi operation in our town after it collapsed. We started with humble beginnings, converting my personal Honda Jazz to a taxi (yes, a metered taxi, not an Uber).

The novelty of it all attracted the local press from a regional town. Hence my television debut, with me showing off a second-hand Honda Jazz hybrid vehicle with a leather interior, which, incidentally, would make cleaning up of any ‘accidents’ a breeze. Before long, we expanded from one vehicle to five, covering territory in not just one but three towns.

“Working full time as a rural GP and having to run a demanding operation round the clock proved too much.”

As it turned out, it was probably an exercise in hubris. Working full time as a rural GP and having to run a demanding operation round the clock proved too much. The straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back came when one of the drivers, who was known to do burnouts with the taxi ended up colliding head-on with another vehicle on the Alpine slopes. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but it soon emerged that he was probably driving a little too fast, on the opposite side of the road.

As quickly as we had expanded, we rapidly divested from the taxi business. We took a substantial financial loss, but kept our sanity intact. Our drivers took over the vehicles and the whole operation for the handsome price of one dollar. To their credit, they kept running what was essentially a loss-making business for many years until it finally sputtered into a natural death.

“It was around this time that the economy of our town took a severe hit. Businesses were suffering.”

It was around this time that the economy of our town took a severe hit. Businesses were suffering. The main employer in town, the timber mill, was locked in an industrial dispute with the union. Weeks dragged into months. There were reports of intimidation and bullying from union representatives. Community support for the union and the workers was slipping, and everyone just wanted an end to the deadlock. Someone needed to say something publicly, but no one really dared to voice it out loud for fear of retribution.

Once again, Denise and I took it upon ourselves to organise a community petition to nudge the workers to acquiesce and push back against an aggressive union. We’ll never know if it actually made any difference, but soon after, a vote was conducted by Fair Work, and a majority of workers voted to accept the proposed wage increases from the employer, and the standoff ended. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. 

These days, since coming out of the Covid pandemic, life has mainly centred around our young family, the local GP practice, pharmacy and church. I am one of three partners in a practice of eight GPs, and we are part of a newly established church plant in our town.

“Things seem pretty standard by all accounts. Except for the fact that we are Asians in a town of white Australians.”

Things seem pretty standard by all accounts. Except for the fact that we are Asians in a town of white Australians. We don’t hunt, fish, or keep chickens. We don’t even have a vegetable patch, although we do try to keep the fruit trees in our garden alive. We don’t follow the footy, nor do we own a caravan, although we have a few tents. For the uninitiated, owning a caravan is an unspoken status symbol for the ‘country person’. We’re basically square pegs in a round hole.

Yet here we are. Samuel, Joseph, Denise and myself.

I suppose we’re just looking for trouble. Trouble in paradise.

It wasn’t always like this. Eleven years ago, Denise and I had just met. Things were moving fast, and we wondered about our future together. We decided to pray separately, seeking direction, and what came to mind for me was the story of Abram in Genesis 12, called to leave his people to go to strange new lands. For Denise, it was the story of Ruth, called to leave her people to follow Naomi – “wherever you go, I will go.” So there was a similar theme of moving somewhere, but we took it to mean a ‘spiritual move.’ Little did we know it was meant to be a physical move.

Moving from the city to the country was more challenging than we imagined. There have been tears, separation, fear, and sometimes a sense of isolation. Nevertheless, imbued with a sense of calling and mission, we committed to staying until we are called to leave. This has been our one constant theme, year after year. Each time we question it, the same reply comes back. ‘Stay. ’

---