30, Like Me

Dusty feet
Tramping eagerly along
Ancient roads
To the river where his
Cousin waits
When it was time to begin
He was 30
Like me.

Long days
Reaching out to hurting
Broken lives
So rarely having just one
Quiet moment
When he healed and taught them
He was 30
Like me.

Reach out your hand
Pharisees start grumbling
Name calling
Try to trap him, stop him
Brood of vipers
When he defied the system
He was 30
Like me.

Burning bright
Just a few short years till he would
Pay the price
Giving everything he had
For our life
When he started on that road
He was 30
Like me.

Eternal
God himself incarnate
Beyond me
But somehow he was like me
He knew
This many days on this old planet
He was 30
Like me.

A Love Letter to 14-Year-Old Leane

14-year-old Leane,
I know you're really lonely.
You thought you had friends, but then they forgot about you.
They left you behind.
And that really hurts.
It will keep hurting, for a very long time.
I'm sorry.
And the friends that you still have, you don't trust them anymore.
You don't trust that they really like you.
You wonder when they will leave too.

14-year-old Leane,
Don't stop trying to make friends.
There are people out there that will like you and appreciate you.
You will find them someday.
I promise.

14-year-old Leane,
I know you want to be an actor,
But you're scared, and self-conscious,
And you don't think you can do it.
And no one else thinks you can do it.
No one is pushing you to try, to fail, and to keep trying until you succeed.
When you fail, I think they're secretly glad, because they want to save you from it.
I wish I could be there
And tell you to try
Because trying doesn't get any easier as you get older
And dreams don't go away just because you give up on them.

14-year-old Leane,
You just wrote a script, and you're really excited about it.
But nobody else seems to be excited.
It's nothing special to them.
Your friends even made fun of it.
But don't stop being excited!
You are going to direct that play, and it is going to open up a whole new world to you—
A passion that will carry you right through your high school years and beyond,
That will create a community and build friendships,
And it will all be because of you.
It will show you the kind of impact that you can have
By just being yourself and doing what you love.

14-year-old Leane,
Things will get better.
And then they will get worse again, and then better again.
Because life is like that.
Don't let the pain stop you from living.
You are smart.
You are kind, and considerate, and gentle.
You are significant.

14-year-old Leane,
I remember you well.
You are still a part of me.
Deep inside, I am you—
A shy, insecure, lonely dreamer.

14-year-old Leane,
Keep dreaming.
I love you.

El Roi: The God Who Sees Me

For Lent this year, our church put together a devotional focused on different names of Jesus. The members of our church were invited to submit a devotional, poem, art piece, or other original work to be a part of it. I wrote a devotional, and I thought I would share it here as well.
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El Roi: The God Who Sees Me

Genesis 16 tells the story of how Hagar became pregnant with Ishmael, was mistreated by Sarai, and ran away into the wilderness. The angel of the Lord met her there and gave her a promise about her child. At the end of that encounter Hagar gave God the name, "The God who sees me". We might not expect God to see a rejected, runaway slave girl, but he did.

When we look at the life of Jesus, we see a beautiful picture of what it looks like when "the God who sees" walks on the earth. He sees the Samaritan woman (John 4), he sees the bleeding woman (Luke 8), he sees Zacchaeus (Luke 19), and the list could go on and on. Jesus saw and reached out to the outcasts, the unclean, the sinners, and all those who were rejected by society.

Today, our God is still the God who sees. He is the God who sees the marginalized, the oppressed, the forgotten. He is the God who sees everyone. He is the God who sees us. We all go through times and seasons when we feel very alone. Maybe it is because of a loss or traumatic event. Maybe it is because of mental or physical illness. Maybe it is from being a parent of young children or the caretaker for someone with special needs. Maybe it is something else. We may feel invisible, overlooked, ignored, forgotten. But God sees us. He reaches out to us in our wilderness, even as he reached out to Hagar so long ago.

As Jesus-followers, we are also called to be people who see. Seeing is hard. It means slowing down, looking away from the things that engross our attention and fill our busy lives, and instead starting to notice those who go unnoticed. Being like Jesus means seeing the homeless, the refugees, the victims of racism, abuse, and colonialism, the troubled youth on the street corner and the elderly person in palliative care, and all those in between who are rejected and forgotten by the world.

But seeing is not just about looking. True seeing leads to meaningful action. God provided for Hagar. Jesus stopped, and talked, and touched. If we are going to be like our Father Who Sees, then we need to be ready to do something about what we see.

Personal Reflection:
When was a time that you knew beyond a doubt that God sees you? What makes you feel seen?

A Challenge:
Today, try to "see". Slow down and notice the people you wouldn't usually notice. Then do something about what you see. Give a smile, a hug, a helping hand.

Father, thank you that you are the God who sees us. Thank you for being with us, even in the dark and challenging times when we feel alone and forgotten. Help us to be people who see and who show your love to a broken and hurting world. Amen.

Complaining Again?

I've realized that I complain a lot.

Well, more accurately, I had it pointed out to me.

The first time it was pointed out was sometime in the past by my wonderful husband—or possibly fiancé or boyfriend at the time, I honestly don't remember when it was. All I remember is that I was quite shocked. What did he mean, I complain a lot? That wasn't true... was it? But as I started to watch for it, I realized that he was right. I did complain a lot. So I tried to change. I thought I did a pretty good job.

And then, recently, I was again told that I complain a lot. Again, it caught me off guard, but I had to admit that it was true. I really don't want to be a negative, complaining kind of person, so I figured I should take a step back and try to figure out what is going on.

I thought I'd share what I found.

I can trace a lot of my complaining back to a very simple scenario: someone asks me, "How was your day?"

I'm a stay at home mom of a 15-month-old and an almost-3-year-old. Want to know how my day was? I had to stop the children from standing on the kitchen table at least 15 times today, and Kenneth dumped an entire pitcher of water on the floor, and Steven had a conniption fit because I wouldn't let him unroll the toilet paper all over the bathroom, and they both refused to nap, and at least three toys were broken, and I'm really tired, and the house is a disaster, and I still haven't started making dinner yet. Thanks for asking, how was your day?

And here is where I run into difficulty: what is "being honest", and what is "complaining"? Because if you ask me how I'm doing, I'd rather not just say "good". Especially if I'm not doing "good". So then what do I say?

I don't think it's wrong to talk about our struggles or the challenges that we are facing, but I had to ask myself why it is that I am drawn to talk about all of the negative things first. Because the reality is, there are also good things that happen in my day. Maybe Kenneth learned a new word, or Steven cleaned up a mess without being asked, or I got a text from a friend I haven't seen in a while. Why do I pass those things over in favour of talking about the stressful, challenging parts of my day?

I think one reason is that the challenging things are louder. They demand my attention. Steven might sit and read books nicely for half an hour, but a five minute tantrum will remain in my memory for much longer. Because there are so many challenging things in my day, I need to fight to notice and remember the positive things, and celebrate them.

I also think I'm drawn to talk about the stressful things because I want affirmation. I want people to know how rough my day was, because then they will realize how amazing I am for making it through relatively unscathed. They may even encourage me, and tell me that I'm a good mom and that I'm doing such a great job. If I paint a rosy picture of my day, I won't get that affirmation. At least, that's what it feels like.

It's not wrong to want affirmation and encouragement, but I don't think I should be using negativity as a desperate bid to get affirmation out of people. There has got to be healthier ways! Seeing my tendency to do this makes me realize that I need to build other ways of receiving encouragement into my life, because then I might not feel as driven to complain to get attention. I am also challenged, because I know that the first one I should be seeking affirmation from is God. It is his approval that is the most important. I may know that, but so often my actions show that I have different priorities.

So when someone asks me how I am doing or how my day was, I am trying to stop and give careful thought to my answer. I want to be honest, but be honest about the good as well as the bad. Maybe it was a really hard day, but I can also talk about the blessings that were in it. I want to consider why I choose to respond to people the way that I do. Is it just to get attention and affirmation? Or is it to build up the people around me, and encourage them too?

An Ordinary Nail

October 31, 1517. The day that is known as the day on which Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses to the door of the Wittenberg Cathedral.

I imagine he used an ordinary nail.

This wasn't the first time he'd had a problem with something going on in the church of that time, and this wasn't the first time he had written about it. He had no idea that this time the effect of his words would be felt across the world, and that his action would be remembered and celebrated five hundred years later.

Interestingly, Luther wasn't intending to break away from the church. He was simply making a critique and calling for a change. But his document caused such a stir that the powers of the time told him that he needed to recant his words, or else. In the end he broke away from the Cathodic Church, and his actions are often proclaimed as the start of the Protestant Reformation.

Luther's actions and words clearly made a significant impact on history, but he was not the first one to make those critiques of the Catholic Church. The way was already paved by others. The Protestant Reformation, though so often attributed to Luther's initiative, was actually the result of countless choices and countless actions by countless people. Did any one of those people know the significance of their actions?

For example, roughly eighty years before Luther's ninety-five theses, Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press. This played a huge role in setting the stage for the Reformation to happen. The Bible, which before had to be copied by hand, suddenly became accessible to more than just the very rich. And as soon as the Bible was translated into the language of the people, instead of only being in Latin, that too became accessible in a way that would have been impossible before. The printing press also made it possible to distribute other written works further and quicker than ever before - works such as Luther's ninety-five theses.

There are countless others who contributed to the Protestant movement, both before and after Luther. Some helped, some hindered. They often disagreed with each other. There were acts of great faith and heroism, and despicable acts that we cringe to have associated with the history of our faith. The Catholics persecuted the Protestants, the Protestants persecuted the Catholics, the Protestants and the Catholics both persecuted the Anabaptists. The history of the Reformation is not necessarily bedtime story material. But it is full of ordinary people, like us, saying things and doing things.

Like the people of history, we do things and we say things. We call up a friend, say hi to someone we pass on the street, write a blog post, live our lives. We don't know the impact that it will have, seen or unseen. That's a little bit scary, because so often our actions and words are thoughtless and careless. But it is also encouraging, because if you're like me, you'd really like to change the world and make it a better place, and sometimes it seems like you have to nail the right document on the right door at the right time in order to make that difference, but that's not true. The things we do and say may not be specifically remembered years later, but the ripple of effects coming from our normal every-day lives and decisions will continue to spread and make a real difference in the world.

500 years ago, Luther used an ordinary nail, and history was never the same.

One More Potato

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thought that I would share something else that I am thankful for.

I am thankful for one more potato.

Let me explain.

I was preparing food for the Sunday potluck that we host every week. I had decided to make what I dubbed a "Thanksgiving shepherd's pie", basically a shepherd's pie with a layer of stuffing on top of the mashed potatoes. (It actually turned out really well! I would recommend trying it.) As I was peeling and chopping potatoes and putting them on to boil, I wondered if I had prepared enough potatoes. After some consideration, I decided I should peel one more, just in case. I reached down into the cupboard and pulled out one more potato.

One more potato. That was all. But that moment was very profound for me.

You see, most of us can reach into the cupboard and pull out another potato. It's so normal, we don't even think about it. But I invite you to consider for a moment with me just how amazing that is:

We have so much food. Even though there have been times when money was short, we've never gone hungry.

I get to choose what food I want to prepare. I have access to almost any kind of food I could want.

Food is a thing. Have you ever thought about that? Things grow that are edible, and we can use them to get the nutrients we need to live.

I have a wonderful, large kitchen that I get to use. It isn't a dark cave or very old and dirty like some of the other kitchens in places we have lived.

We have a large household, with an open door. I've always wanted it to be like that. We aren't just a family of two parents and two kids—we have opened our home to so many, and I am thankful for each of them.

One more potato—such a simple thing—but a reminder that I have so much to be thankful for.

What is something normal in your life that has reminded you to be thankful?

Nervous

I've been thinking about how I feel nervous around certain people.

It's a certain kind of nervous: A desire to be liked and accepted, while feeling like I will inevitably be rejected. I used to feel like that a lot, especially around popular people. Why would a popular, outgoing person want to be friends with me, when everyone loves them? I used to feel really nervous around people I perceived to be fun and popular. Not so much anymore.

Now there is a very certain sort of person that makes me feel nervous. They are people who are very artistic, skilled with their words, with a compelling stage presence. Their poetry, spoken word pieces, and performances are deep and profound, and they express and evoke emotion in a way that impacts their readers and hearers. I respect and admire them so much. And they make me incredibly nervous.

One reason why is because I really want them to like me. I really really really want them to like me. But it's strange that this stands out, because as a general rule I want everyone to like me, but I don't feel nervous like that around everyone. Normally I can trust that I am generally liked. But for some reason whenever I am around one of these people I feel like I am an awkward fourteen year old again, tripping over myself, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, second guessing and doubting everything that I do. It's bizarre, because for the most part I grew out of that sort of thing a long time ago.

I think maybe it is because in them I see something that I want to be. I don't just want to be liked by them, I want to be respected by them. I want to be accepted as their peer and belong among them. But instead I feel like a fraud, like I don't belong.

I had the privilege of spending enough time around one such person that I actually came to be able to trust that they like me and truly consider me to be a friend. So it is possible. But most of the time I watch them from a distance, hidden in my insecurity, wishing that I could be their friend.

Am I being silly? Maybe. But I decided to write about this because I think I'm not the only one who feels like this sometimes. We all have a deep desire for belonging and acceptance, and we all struggle with doubt and fear. Those people who I look up to and want to be like, they may make me feel nervous, but they are human too. We all are.

Red: A Canada 150 Reflection

Red.

It used to be my favourite colour.

I think it was because I saw it as a brave colour, a colour of adventure. Narnia's colour is red, after all. I always wished that I could climb into my favourite books and go on a real adventure.

I also liked red because it is Canada's colour.

I grew up with a lot of Canadian pride. At a very young age I was taught our national anthem, our geography, and our history.

When I was eleven my family went on a road trip across Canada, all the way from BC to Newfoundland. I have so many good memories from that trip. We got to see all sorts of interesting things - Niagara Falls, the Canadian Parliament, the Plains of Abraham, Green Gables, L'Anse aux Meadows, Cape Spear, and many other places. We got to appreciate the land and history of our country in a new way. Another year we drove north to the Yukon, and got to experience even more of our great country.

I always liked what I perceived to be Canada's reputation - a nice country, a peaceful country, but don't mess with us because we can take care of ourselves. It's a good country to be from. The Canadian stereotype is endearing, from saying "eh" and "sorry", to hockey, Tim Hortons, and poutine.

I love Canada.

But recently I have also begun to learn that we have a shadow side to our story too.

I've learned about residential schools, where Indigenous children were torn away from their families, abused, and forced to give up their own culture.

I've learned about the unfathomable number of missing and murdered Indigenous women without voices to advocate for them.

I've learned that there are whole Indigenous cultures and languages that are endangered or have become extinct.

I have witnessed a society where injustice continues to flourish, where the gap between the rich and the poor increases, where wealth is sought after and gained at the expense the poor here and across the world and through the careless destruction of the earth.

For those of us who are Christians, it is very important to think about where we belong in this narrative. Our place is not in the marching bands and the marching armies, in the voices that proclaim the glories of colonialism and would trample those who stand against it. We are called to have different values. We belong to a different Kingdom. Our place is with Jesus, among the poor and the outcast, telling the stories of the forgotten and crying out for justice for the oppressed.

Our story is not as simple as we would like to believe.

So as we celebrate Canada's 150th year, remember that this land was home to others long before colonialists from Europe arrived.

As we show pride for our country, remember that the true greatness of a country is shown not in its wealth, its policies, or its achievements in war, but in how it treats the weak, the vulnerable, and the forgotten.

As we look up at our beautiful flag of white and red, remember that there is also red on our hands.

Something That Won't Compute

Does it ever feel like life has become stagnant and predictable? That it's just the same thing day after day? The same old work, same old paycheque, same old to do list? I know a lot of people who feel that way. They talk about making a dramatic change, shaking things up, but somehow the comfort of the mundane always seems to win out. Maybe you feel like that too.

A couple of weeks ago I was introduced to a poem called "Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front" by Wendell Berry. It starts with a similar idea, that same old predictable life - work lots, get paid, have a vacation, buy more things. It's more than just a pattern of behaviour, it's a mindset. A mindset that needs more, that's out to get what it deserves, that fears the unknown and looks out for number one.

And that is what's expected - advertising targets it, employers take advantage of it, the media promotes it, political parties use it to get our support. It's like they can read our minds.

The poet continues to say, "So, friends, every day do something that won't compute."

Some of his examples include working for nothing, loving someone who doesn't deserve it, and planting sequoias.

I often take my kids to a local park - a small lake circled by a walking trail. We usually walk along the lake for a bit before stopping at a playground. Last week while Steven was exploring the lakeside (and I was trying to convince him that jumping into the lake wasn't in his best interests) a man beckoned us over. He had been fishing and had a wriggling trout hanging from his line. He showed Steven the fish and offered that he could touch it. We chatted with the man for a while, and he said something that I thought was really interesting:

"Do you know why I showed you the fish? You come to the park and you already know what your day will be like. But you don't expect that you will be touching a fish. It shakes your mind up."

It's something that won't compute.

That's something that I've been thinking about a lot lately. Something that won't compute. It's an act of defiance against a system that would have us mindlessly working and consuming. It's a choice to step aside from what we're expecting or the way we've always done things, leaving us open to new experiences and ways of thinking.

So what does that look like for me? Maybe jumping in the puddles with my toddler when I take him for a walk in the rain. Maybe walking at my child's pace, even though I have such a long list of things that need to be done. Maybe smiling at the strangers I pass on the street, regardless of how different from me they are. Maybe voting for the political candidate I agree with, even if it means "throwing my vote away". Maybe planting things in my garden that will take years to come to maturity, even though we're renting and don't know how long we're going to live here. Maybe continuing to invite people into our home - even to live with us - because we believe community is important.

What does that look like for you?

What the News Misses

Have you ever thought about how the news is kind of depressing?

I have. In fact I generally try to avoid the news for just that reason. I have enough challenges in my life without being given a dozen more reasons to feel anxious and depressed. But as much as I wish I could stick my head in the sand and ignore it all, the news keeps showing up anyways - in my Facebook feed, in the newspaper headlines, in conversions with friends.

Politics comes up a lot, especially with all of the happenings south of the boarder (and some of our own stuff too). I don't have a problem with politics per se, but it seems like it's just become a subject for everyone to get worked up about without actually contributing any practical involvement or solutions.

There has been a lot of death too. I don't know how many beloved celebrities died last year, but I know there were quite a few. I'm pretty clueless about celebrities in general (unless they're connected to Lord of the Rings or some other subject I particularly enjoy), but their deaths were all over the news and impacted many people. Just a couple of weeks ago I was saddened to hear that Stuart McLean passed away. We used to listen to the Vinyl Cafe in the car on the way to soccer every week. His stories were a piece of my childhood.

Since then I have been thinking a lot about how "the news" is so depressing. And it's not just large-scale news either. Even the local paper is full of shootings, unexpected deaths, the drug crisis, and other problems. Sometimes I feel like I should try to stay informed on what is going on in the world, but after just a few minutes I start feeling so gross. No wonder I try to avoid the news.

I've often wondered - where are the good things? There is more happening in the world than just disease, disaster, and death. Where is the hope?

But I do partly understand. Those things make for a good story. They are "big deals", things that affect lots of people, and I suppose they are important to know about. But the good things in life are often quieter and unassuming. The volunteer worker who makes a difference in people's lives. The neighbour who mows your lawn. Going out for coffee with a friend. Not exactly headline material. And that's okay. But the problem is that the bad stuff can overwhelm the good stuff.

We can only hold so much in our heads, so we tend to just think about what comes to mind the easiest. Because the bad stuff is so "loud", because it fills the headlines, because it's emotionally charged, that is what we remember. Everything that is wrong about the world blocks out everything that is right about the world.

And even more significantly, the news misses out the most important thing of all. It misses that God is with us. He is with us in this messy, broken, falling apart world. He is here, bringing hope, comfort, restoration, and a peace that passes understanding. But somehow we always forget. Perhaps that's because, while God can and sometimes does work in wonders, more often he works in the small, simple things, the things that are easy to miss if you're not watching for him.

And so we feel discouraged, we feel afraid, we want to give up hope, because the world just seems so dark and broken. But God is with us! The hard stuff is still hard, the sad stuff is still sad, but the good stuff is still good! When the news threatens to drag us down, let's remember the things that the news misses, and be a people of hope.

The Power of Words

In a devotional that I have been reading, the author challenged her readers to say, "I trust you, Jesus," frequently throughout their day, especially when feeling frustrated or overwhelmed. I dismissed it as sounding rather contrived and tacky, but for some reason the idea stuck with me. The next time I was feeling stressed because the kids were acting up, the thought came into my mind, "I should say, 'I trust you, Jesus'". So I did. And to my surprise, it helped!

Since then I have been saying that phrase fairly frequently, and I've also been thinking about why it is so helpful. One reason that keeps coming to mind is that words are very powerful. We tend to forget this, but it's true. We can see evidence of it all around us. A genuine encouragement can inspire someone to achieve far more than they thought they could. An careless insult can eat away at someone for years. I know I've seen those kinds of effects in my life, and I'm sure you have too.

When I say, "I trust you, Jesus," I am reminding myself about Jesus. It's funny how we can so easily go through our day without an awareness of Jesus - his presence, his love, his forgiveness, his power. I am also reminding myself that I have a relationship with him, and that he has promised to never leave me. I am declaring to myself, to him, and to the world that he is my saver, my sustainer, and my hope. When I say that phrase, I am also changing my focus and my perspective. I am taking my attention off my problems and stress, and directly inviting Jesus to be a part of whatever situation I find myself in. And that changes the reality of my moment.

The power of words even goes beyond whether or not we open our mouths to say something. Our thoughts are words too, and how we think (our "internal dialogue") can have a huge affect on us. It can turn a problem into an opportunity and a hard day into a day to be thankful for.

I'm not saying that we need to just "think positive" all the time. But I do want to challenge myself to carefully consider the kinds of thought patterns I have. When I'm feeling lonely, it's not very helpful to keep telling myself, "No one likes me. I don't have any friends." Instead maybe I should say, "I feel lonely. I should find a way to connect with someone." When I'm feeling stressed, instead of thinking, "I can't deal with this!", I can remind myself that Jesus is with me. One way of thinking traps me; the other gives room for hope.

The words we choose to use can have far more of an impact than we realize. In the way that I talk to others and talk to myself, I want to be the kind of person that uses the power of words for good.

What Is This Feeling?

One day a few weeks ago I noticed a strange feeling.

We were all sick with colds.  Jesse had been busy taking a course and had hardly been around at all, which meant that Steven was acting up and I had my hands even more full than usual.  I still had to do laundry every day.  I still struggled to come up with good ideas for meals, and getting Steven to eat them was even more of a struggle.  I still wasn't getting much sleep at night.   Outwardly, nothing seemed to have really changed for the better.  The usual daily grind was still grinding.

But for some reason I felt really good.

Not physically good, I did have a cold after all, but there was a lightness in my spirit that had been missing for quite a while.  It didn't really make sense to me, but I liked it.

It lasted for maybe half a day.

By the time everything and everyone was settled for the evening, I was stressed and tired.  My life situation hadn't changed for the worse, but it sure felt like it had.

Our emotions are very powerful in shaping our experience.  That morning I felt great, so it seemed like life must be going well.  By the end of the day everything felt like a disaster.  But just because our emotions are saying something doesn't mean that it's true.

That doesn't mean that our emotions aren't important or aren't real.  They are!  The problem is when we use our emotions as the only measure of the reality of a situation.  When I'm feeling stressed and anxious it's so easy to feel like everything is going wrong.  But is that really true?  There certainly are some things that aren't as they should be - the toddler is refusing to fall asleep, the baby threw up all over my shirt, the tenant downstairs is smoking again, filling our home with toxic second-hand smoke.  But there are other realities in that situation too.  The toddler is wanting to cuddle and read together - he loves me and wants to spend time with me.  The baby is feeding and growing well, already doubling his birth weight.  There are new opportunities opening up,  special things to look forward to, and I don't have to do the dishes.

My emotions at any given moment don't show me the whole picture, but they do still tell me something important.  Maybe the stress is reminding me that I haven't taken time off for myself lately, or that I need to do something that gives me joy like getting outside or playing music.  Maybe my anxiety is telling me that something I love (the kids) is being endangered (by the second-hand smoke).  Maybe my anger is telling me that I feel helpless in a situation, or that I've been misunderstod.

So when you feel strong emotions, pause for a moment and ask yourself what they are trying to tell you.  The answer generally won't be a blanket statement like "my life sucks" or "no one appreciates me".  Instead it will be more specific: "I'm feeling anxious that I might not be able to pay rent" or "I need more words of affirmation from people".  These insights are empowering rather than paralyzing - working on a budget is a lot easier than trying to make your life not "suck"!

Still, I often end up making generalized statements about my life based on whatever I am feeling at the time.  But it doesn't have to be that way.  I am slowly learning to see what my emotions are really trying to tell me about what is going on.  When I do that, I understand myself more, I find ways that I can improve, and I get better at appreciating my life, no matter what I'm feeling.

Heroes Of The Faith And Me

As a child I loved reading biographies of famous Christian "heroes of the faith".  I was inspired and encouraged in my faith through the stories of people like St. Francis of Assisi, Eric Liddell, Mother Teresa, and Jim Elliot.  One person I particularly enjoyed reading about was George Muller.  He is known for starting orphanages in Bristol, England in the 1800's.  The most distinctive thing about his work is that he never asked for money.  Instead he prayed for whatever needs he had.  And God always provided, sometimes in very miraculous ways.

I always wanted to have that kind of faith in God.

The problem is, trusting God seems a lot easier in theory and in stories than it is in the day to day challenges of life.  It's easy to look back and say, "Of course God was going to provide food for all those orphans!" and think that that faith must have come easy to Muller.

In my own life, faith is a struggle.  I believe that God provides, but when it's my own credit card bill, I'm not quite so sure.  I know we're supposed to "look at the birds of the air" (Matthew 6:25-34), but somehow it's easier to believe that God provides for the birds than that he provides for my next month's rent.

I think part of the reason why this is so hard for us is that most of us in western cultures have so much.  If we're hungry we just go to the store and buy food.  If we need more money we work overtime.  It becomes easy to believe that we are the ones who are providing for ourselves.  We forget that ultimately God is the one who is providing for us, and that he will continue to provide for us, even if we lose the jobs, health, government, etc. that we thought were protecting us.

I'm learning that growing in faith is kind of like a building muscle or forming a new habit.  It's really hard, especially when we aren't used to it.  But as we see God provide and answer our prayers, it gradually becomes easier to trust him.  Does it ever become truly easy though?  I don't know, because I've never gotten there.

But I am learning and growing in my faith.  Every time I see God provide for me, it reminds me to trust him more next time.  It is his goodness and care that brings us through every day and every challenge that we face.

What Multi-Tasking Says

I've been thinking about multi-tasking - the act of doing more than one thing at the same time.  It's something that most of us do quite a lot.  Multi-tasking is even something we take pride in doing well.  But is that a good thing?

I multi-task a lot.  I've come to the conclusion that that's how moms survive.  But a couple of moments lately have made me start to wonder if my multi-tasking has gone too far.  One was the other day when I was driving home from getting groceries.  I was thinking through the different things I still needed to get done that day, among which was a certain text I needed to send.  I wished I could send the text right then.  But I am a responsible driver, so I did not text while I was driving.  I waited until later.  But it made me think - why do I feel like I have to always be accomplishing something more?  Wasn't it enough that I was driving?

The other moment was this evening as I was folding diapers and scrolling through Twitter at the same time.  When I actually noticed what I was doing it made me stop and think.  At first I was a little impressed (there's that pride thing - look at me doing so many things at the same time!).  But then I wondered: Why was I scrolling through Twitter while I was folding laundry?  Maybe because I felt like folding diapers was boring and I wanted to be doing something more interesting.  I don't know, I was just doing it.  Thoughtlessly multi-tasking.

When I do multiple things at the same time, I can't give my full attention to any one of them.  Generally that doesn't cause any particular problems.  Most of the tasks in my day don't take a lot of brain power.  But my multi-tasking it is making a statement.

It's saying that it is more important to be done the thing than to be doing the thing.

Let me use food as an example.  I'll often wait to have lunch until Steven is down for his nap.  After getting my lunch ready I usually sit in the living room and eat it while playing a game on my phone or scrolling through social media.  If I'm feeling especially productive I might catch up on emails or work on my writing.  When I multi-task like that I'm saying that eating lunch is something that needs to be done (which is true) but it also says that I'm not interested in giving my attention to the process of eating lunch.  I'm not noticing the flavours and textures or thinking about everything that went into me being able to eat that food for my lunch.  I'm not fully experiencing it and I'm not fully thankful for it.  I just care about it being done, not about doing it.

This is especially a problem when we're interacting with people.  If I ask my husband about his day while also looking up something on my phone, it makes it seem like I'm just asking him because it's something that needs to be done.  He won't feel nearly as valued as he would if I asked him without multi-tasking.

But there are a lot of situations where it doesn't seem like multi-tasking would be a problem.  Laundry, dishes, sweeping, they're all things that need to be done, and they're not exactly interesting.  So why not multi-task?

But I'm challenging myself to multi-task less, and here's why:

Problem 1: We miss out on the doing.

When we multi-task we don't fully experience what we are doing.  I want to get better at living in the moment and appreciating the beauty that can be found in simple, mundane tasks.  I want to be thankful - even for the laundry and the dishes - rather than always rushing through them just because they have to be done.

Problem 2: We don't give our minds time to unwind.

Part of the appeal of multi-tasking is our culture's ever increasing need of being busy and productive.  We think that more is always better.  We're always "on", always in "go mode", and that's not healthy.  Times of quiet and rest are vital to our physical and mental health.  Choosing to do one thing at a time is a way of slowing down the pace instead of stuffing our minds full of more and more stimuli.

Problem 3: We miss out on other ways we could be using that time.

I don't know about you, but when I multi-task, one of those tasks is usually something electronic: Facebook, internet games, Pinterest, YouTube videos.  Sometimes I do try to do something more useful, like writing, but the reality is that it's usually something that I don't actually have to be doing.  It's filler.  Really addictive filler.  So I keep defaulting to it again and again.  But if I stopped defaulting maybe I would start to find better choices.  Maybe there is someone I should be praying for.  Maybe I should call someone or think through a story idea or plan supper.

So the next time I'm folding diapers, instead of mindlessly scrolling through Twitter, maybe I could pay more attention to living in the moment.  I could give my mind a break from constant input so I can think and process my day and how I'm feeling.  I could feel thankful for the ability to have clean, dry laundry, and pray for both of my wonderful boys.  A boring task could be transformed into a life-giving opportunity.

I understand that it's often a necessity to multi-task.  But just because I can doesn't always mean that I should.  I encourage you to join me in choosing to slow down and live fully in every moment that God has given us.

Maybe we shouldn't multi-task so much.

Faces

When you have a baby you soon learn that there are many people who love babies and will take every opportunity they have to hold one.  Sometimes I'll be at an event and never hold my baby myself except for when he's hungry or needing a diaper change.  On one occasion not too long ago a lady from church was holding Kenneth, and I overheard her talking with someone standing nearby about how babies' faces are so fascinating.  They both agreed that they could just stare at a baby's face all day.  Then one of of them added jokingly that you can't do that with older people, because staring at people like that is kind of weird.

That conversation I overheard has stayed with me.  I agree, there is something very special about a baby's face. They are so young, so new, taking everything in for the first time with big eyes, or sleeping with a peace that most of us have forgotten.  But babies aren't the only ones with fascinating faces.

Think about children.  Bundles of endless energy, they run through life with an infectious enthusiasm.  Every emotion is given their all and expressed with abandon - whether shrieks of laughter, cries of frustration, or affectionate bedtime kisses and cuddles.

Young adults' faces have a different kind of beauty; a fascinating tension and conflict as the idealism of youth meets the challenges of the world and they fight to keep their dreams alive.

Seniors have beautiful faces too, filled with years of memories, both joyful and sorrowful.  Their eyes carry a wisdom that only age can bring, and every wrinkle tells a story.

Every age and stage of life has its own beauty.  Indeed, every person's face is beautiful, formed by the artist hand of God and shaped through every experience and moment on this crazy adventure we call life.  We may joke about how it's awkward, but really it is a shame that we don't look at others' faces more often.

The more we look at peoples' faces, the more we see their worth and beauty.  Just think of how the faces of your loved ones appear to you, though they may not be counted as "beautiful" in the eyes of the world.  Perhaps we should take more time to look at the faces of those who are different than us - who are from different cultures, different classes, or different ages, as a way of seeing beyond those differences to who they are as a person, and the great worth that they have.  Perhaps we will see them in a way that we haven't before, and learn to love them better.

Let's be the kind of people who see the value in every face and in every person that we meet.

What We're Missing

We're missing something.

We live in a culture of affluence and plenty, where the vast majority of us have all we could need and more.  We have conveniences of every kind, entertainment at our fingertips, and food from around the world.  But something is missing.  Something big.  We can see evidence of it all around us.  Even though we think we have everything we need, we feel empty.  We feel lonely, vulnerable, and afraid.  Depression and anxiety have spread like an epidemic.  Whatever it is that we're missing, it must huge!

I think I know what it is.

We're missing connection.  A place to belong, where we are accepted, loved, and cared for.  We're missing a village.

This lack of "village" in our culture is a relatively new phenomenon.  Most cultures throughout history have been village-based, where people live in small communities of families who live, work, and play together.  And as they gathered together, they could talk about their lives and their struggles.  They could get advice, encouragement, and practical help.

Our culture has lost that.  We live within our four little walls, often not even knowing our neighbours. Each family unit is expected to take care of their own needs and to operate independently of everyone else.  But we weren't made to function like that.  We desperately need connection - with God, nature, and other people.

The village gives each person value and a purpose.  There are many people who fall through the cracks of our society.  For example, the elderly people who often spend the final years of their life tucked out of sight in seniors' homes.  For many, that can be a lonely, isolating experience.  But in the village, the elderly had a role.  They cared for the young, watching the children, sharing from their years of experience, and in return they were cared for by the younger generation. 

Now I know that our lives are not completely devoid of human connection.  In fact, some people do have a thriving community around them.  However, that is not the "normal" or the default of our culture.  Many of us feel very, very lonely.  Even though we have "friends", most of the time they are too preoccupied with their own busy life to be there when we really need them.  Knowing people and interacting with people is not the same thing as having a village.

This lack of community affects all of us, at every stage of life.  For me, right now, it is the most obvious to see how it affects young mothers like myself.  My days overflow with the tasks of childcare and homecare.  I often find myself on the verge of tears as I try to clean up a mess on the floor, follow along with whatever game my toddler is insisting that I play with him, get the laundry hung up so we have clothes to wear the next day, and try to make a healthy, timely supper, all at the same time.  I know that there are people out there who care about me and that even might be willing to help if I asked, but most of the time I am too busy and overwhelmed to even look for help.  I need a village, but the task of finding one or making one just adds to my already overwhelming list of things to do.

In the absence of the village, it is the family that has to pick up the slack.  Now family can be and should be an amazing place of support and belonging, but it can't stand the pressure of being our only place of support.  My husband does everything he can to support me, but when he gets home from a long day of work he is very tired.  Sometimes he is able to play with Steven, help with the dishes, or listen to how my day was, but sometimes he can't.  And often I am too tired to provide the support that I know he needs from me.  Having a larger community in our life would help relieve some of that pressure.  Extended family can help, and indeed family has always been an important part of the village, but in our mobile society we often don't live near our families.  Personally, we don't live near either my family or Jesse's family.  They do what they can to support and help us, but the distance makes it challenging.

God's desire for us is that we have a village.  He has even provided one - we call it the Church.  If you think about it, everything that we long for from a village is a part of what the church is supposed to be: a community of people where you can belong and find help and encouragement.  Sadly, the church is often not like that.  Even in churches that seem healthy and open and friendly, something is often missing.  Just like in the rest of society, people are too caught up in their own busy lives.  They smile and shake your hand at church, but then rush home to their jobs and meetings and family dinners.  Church is just one of the things on their to do list, not a real community with all of its messiness, beauty, and commitment to each other.

When we don't have a village, we are left to create one on our own.  And we try.  It's something that is very important to Jesse and me.  We know all too well that we can't manage on our own.  That's a big part of why we like having people living with us, and why we're always inviting people into our home.  But we've found that all too often people are just too busy.  It gets discouraging to keep asking and keep trying.

And I don't think we're the only ones who feel like this.

So what do we do?  I think the best place to start is to be honest - to admit that we can't manage on our own, that we need the help and support of a community around us.  This really goes against the grain of our culture that smiles and says "I'm fine".  It's hard to ask for help.  And asking people to be a part of your life is a very vulnerable thing to do.  They might reject you, or take help and support from you without offering any in return.  But it is vitally important that we take that risk.  Jesse and I are slowly finding a group of people who genuinely want to be a part of our life.  It is a long, slow process, and many of those people have been called to live in other parts of the world and we don't get to see them much.

That's what we are doing.  But just like we can't live alone, we can't build community alone.  It is a task for all of us.  We don't have to accept individualism and isolation as an unavoidable reality.  We can reach out to others and welcome them into our lives.  And if you are one of those people who are blessed with a strong community around you, please open up your eyes.  There are hurting, lonely people all around you who are longing for a place to belong.  Open your hearts and homes.  Together, let's change the "normal".  There is no greater calling than sharing our life and love in the messy beauty of community.

Weakness

Weakness.

It's not something that we like very much. 

We forgive its existence in things that are cute and little, like kittens and babies, but for the most part we look on weakness with a mix of condescension and pity.  Most of all, we can't stand weakness in ourselves.

And it's not surprising.  Everywhere around us it is strength that is praised.  The people who can run the fastest and jump the farthest receive medals and fame.  Those who keep their chin up when life gets tough are inspirational.  The message is clear - don't falter, don't cry, and don't ever ask for help.

Even within the church, strength is placed on a pedestal.  We look up to those great saints who faced impossible odds, who were unshakable in their faith, who faced suffering and persecution with joy and hope.  We aspire to be like them.  We want to be strong in our faith.

I'm weak.

That isn't something that I want as a part of my self-concept.  For most of my life, I would have labeled myself more as "competent", "resourceful", and "talented"... not "weak".  But lately I haven't been able to ignore my weakness.  Most of the summer I've been barely surviving.  My daily tasks were overwhelming, and I felt increasingly exhausted, depressed, and alone.

I don't like feeling weak.

But a couple of days ago I read something that really encouraged me.  I've been sporadically meandering my way through the devotional Jesus Calling by Sarah Young, and the entry for the last day of August was about weakness.  The author writes that God has gifted some with abundant strength, and gifted some with weakness.  Now, weakness isn't exactly the sort of gift that I'd add to my Christmas list, but I was challenged to look at it in a different way, looking for the blessings that come with weakness, rather than the challenges.

Weakness makes me rely on God.  It keeps me aware of my need for him and his presence in each day.  When I'm feeling strong and capable, it's so easy to breeze through my day, doing things my way, without a second thought.  Weakness keeps me coming back to God, asking for his help, and trying to follow his priorities for the day.

Weakness also makes me rely on others.  We are not meant to go through life on our own, but nothing makes that more obvious to me than when I feel weak.  It is because of other people helping me that I made it through this summer.  And it's because of others that I am coping with life right now.  Last week Steven and I both came down with colds.  Trying to care for a sick toddler, while being sick myself, on top of being 39 weeks pregnant and already not coping with life... let's just say it was a recipe for disaster.  But I'm not alone.  I've had so much help this week (especially from my mom and Maria - thank you!) that I am actually feeling more alive than I have in a long time.  When I wake up in the mornings I'm not feeling exhausted, and I actually have a desire to do things and care about things again.

It is hard, and very humbling, to have to ask for help.  We have to fight through the lies that tell us that being weak is bad, that feeling weak means that we are failing.  My friends, it's not true.  Weakness is not failure.  Weakness is a part of being human.  And weakness can lead us to what we need most in life - dependence on our God who loves us, and his presence through the people who are there for us when we need them.

Spiders

I never liked spiders.

They are creepy and icky and nasty.

I feel like my response to spiders is fairly average.  If I notice one in its natural habitat (outside), I avoid it, keep my distance, or maybe use a stick to knock its web down if it's in my way.  But if the spider has invaded my space (inside), their demise is imminent.  If I'm feeling brave or if it's a particularly small spider, I'll deal with it myself with a tissue.  If it's of any decent size or if I'm just not feeling up for it, the appearance of the spider is meet with cries for assistance from whoever may be within earshot, particularly if there are any males in the house.

There was one particular occasion of note when I was able to coexist with a spider.  In the house where I grew up there was once a spider that built its web in the bathroom.  Since it wasn't too big, I tried to dispose of it myself, but it escaped into the crack between the counter and the wall.  This distressed me, since the only thing worse than seeing a spider is knowing that there is one nearby that you can't see anymore.  But there was nothing I could do.  The spider later rebuilt its web, but once again escaped my attempts to rid myself of its presence.  There was only one thing left that I could think of to do.  I named the spider.  Its name was Mr. Creepy, and we had an uneasy truce until Mr. Creepy disappeared a couple weeks later and was never seen again.

Fast forward many years to when Jesse and I were moving into our new house.  Well, new to us.  It's actually a very old house.  It has a lot of character, and it is already feeling like home, but one of the first thoughts I had when I saw it was that it was the kind of house that would have a lot of spiders.  I was right.  It doesn't help that it wasn't lived in for many months before we moved in, and it also doesn't help that none of the windows have screens, so if we want to let in any fresh air or try to cool things down in the evenings (it gets so hot upstairs when it's a sunny day!) we also end up letting in a lot of little critters too.

Our first few weeks in the new house involved my usual attitude of "death to all spiders", but something was brewing in the back of my mind.  You see, I don't particularly like killing things.  I'm not a vegetarian, but I have been struggling with the concept of animals being raised purely to be killed.  And I certainly don't support meat animals being raised in inhumane conditions like they so often are.  I also don't agree with animals being killed needlessly or for sport.

The problem with this was becoming evident: Where do you draw the line?  At what point is the creature small enough that its life doesn't matter anymore?  Why was I picking and choosing what was ok to kill and what wasn't?  I'd be very sad to crush a bumblebee or a ladybug, but why did I consider killing spiders to be ok just because they are ugly and scary?  It's still something I think about a lot.

So I decided to change something.  I stopped killing the spiders.  Some of the nastier ones I trapped and set loose outside, but others I just let be.  And a strange thing happened.  They aren't as scary now.  It's true, I still don't particularly like spiders.  I still think they are creepy and ugly.  But I don't freak out whenever I see one.  I don't automatically think that I have to kill it.  I have found that we can coexist.

I think that this is about something bigger than just spiders.  There is a lot of fear and hatred in our world.  Yes, people fear and hate spiders, but even more tragically, people fear and hate other people.  We fear those who are different than us, we feel threatened by their presence, and so we kill them.  Sometimes the killing is literal.  But for most of us it's much more subtle.  We kill their character, we gossip and slander, we label them and ostracize them, we deny our common humanity and forget that they are unique people, with their own story, made in the image of God.

The tragedy is that fear is a self-perpetuating cycle.  When we act in fear we reinforce that fear and make it even stronger.  Just as fearing spiders led me to kill spiders, which made me fear spiders even more, when we kill others (literally or figuratively) we become even more afraid of them and the cycle of fear and violence continues.

To stop the cycle, we have to stop acting in fear.  We have to stop supporting violence.  Violence can never cure fear, it will only promote it.  I know, it's hard not to act out of fear.  Fear is a natural response to danger that's designed to keep us safe.  But it becomes a problem when we are afraid of the wrong things, and when we respond to that fear with violence.  God has not called us to be a people of fear, but a people of love, like Jesus risking everything to welcome those who society fears and rejects and kills.

It's not an easy calling, to follow our Prince of Peace, but lately I have been encouraged.  I didn't expect to ever coexist with spiders, or have anything other than hatred for them.  Yet, all I did was stop killing them, and the change happened on its own.

Let's stop responding to our fear with violence, and perhaps together we can change the cycle of fear, hatred, and violence that we see in the world around us.

The Ups and Downs

Do you ever feel that when everything is going well all of life is amazing, but when you're feeling down or depressed everything is awful?

I've been feeling pretty up-and-down the past few days.  We got back home from a wonderful two weeks away visiting my in-laws, which involved me having next to no responsibilities or things I had to do.  I got to sleep in, write, work on little projects, help with a puzzle (I hadn't had a chance to work on a puzzle in ages!), go for walks by myself, and overall have a wonderful time of rest.  Now we're home, and once again I am faced with the endless dishes, laundry, and cleaning that come with the job of "mommy".  Steven is being a handful, since he is used to all of the attention that his grandparents and aunties could provide.  We are all having to adjust to the time change.  And we still have so much to do to settle into our new home.  It's been pretty overwhelming.

When I'm feeling overwhelmed, tired, and depressed, that feeling seems to encompass everything.  It's hard to see the blessings and the joys in life.  It feels like it has always been that way, and will always be that way.  It's hard to remember that this is just a season, and that even a good night's sleep can make a world of difference.

A short poem I wrote last night sums up what that emotional state is like for me:

Night is around me again
Blackness permeating everything.
Did I just imagine
The music and flowers
The sunlight that warmed me?
If this is reality
Can I keep dreaming?

But then this morning, I wasn't feeling so bad.  Sitting in the sunshine in our yard, watching Jesse cut the lawn, and Steven pushing a toy around pretending to cut the lawn like daddy, I felt like life was pretty good.  There has been several ups and downs today since then, each bringing with them the feeling that everything is awful, or that things are actually pretty good.

And this is actually pretty normal.  It's part of how the human mind works.  When we are feeling sad, it's easier for us to remember other sad memories.  When we are happy it's easier for us to remember other happy memories.  But even though I know about that, when I'm feeling down it's so hard to keep things in their proper perspective.  The emotion encompasses everything and it's hard to see the bigger picture.

It's a challenge.  But it's something I'm working on.

I Don't Make Money Doing What I Love

Do what you love.  This is the mantra of our day and age, and it is particularly loved by my generation.  It's almost like it's our sacred duty to that which we love.  And why not?  Who wouldn't want to do what brings them joy and fulfillment?

But the mantra doesn't stop there.  We aren't just to do what we love, we are to make money doing it.  It is to be our career, our vocation, our way of making a livelihood.  And again, there isn't anything inherently wrong with that.  I know many people who are able to make money doing what they love, and I am so happy for them!

I get to do a lot of things that I love.  Today I'm particularly thinking about writing on this blog, making videos for my YouTube channel, and making arts and crafts.  These are all things that could make me money.  But I don't make money.  On purpose.  I've thought about it, that's for sure.  As a stay-at-home mom, my husband is the one who primarily works, but the subconscious pressure I put on myself to find a way to contribute is very real.

But whenever I consider using what I love as a way of making money, I find a hesitation in my heart that forbids me.

For example, think about this blog and my YouTube channel.  Those are both ways that people can make money.  It's certainly not easy money, and I'm still too small to make much, but I could make some, if I wanted to.  But how I would make that money is through allowing advertising on my blog posts and before my videos.

But I don't like advertising.  It's not just that it's annoying (which it is), but I would have no control over the content of the advertising, and I have serious problems with the vast majority of advertising that happens in our world.  Most advertising promotes discontent, consumerism, materialism, hedonism, unsustainable use of the earth's resources, and the objectification of both women and men.  How can I allow that on my work?  When people visit my blog or my channel I want them to hear from my heart, not be bombarded once again by the parts of our culture that try to drag us down.  I could be earning money, but money isn't the most important thing.

I also enjoy arts and crafts.  I've often had people say that I should sell the things that I make, and I've often thought about it.  But for some reason I don't really want to.  That doesn't mean I would be opposed to someone asking me to make them something and wanting to pay me for it.  But I don't want to make things with the sole purpose of earning money, to try to convince people that they need more handmade scarves and Christmas ornaments and baby toys.  I want to make things that are needed, not try to create a need for things that I make.

I don't say any of this to belittle those who do use advertising or those who make things to sell.  But I do want to encourage you to stop and think with me.  Our culture tries to tell us that money is everything, that we always need more.  But instead of grabbing at every chance to make a few more dollars, let's evaluate what is really most important to us.  What are we promoting?  What are our actions saying about what we value?

I don't make money doing what I love. 

Maybe someday I will, but right now that isn't what is most important.