Thanksgiving...

This past weekend was thanksgiving, it was a chance to reflect on how blessed we are and the love that surrounds us so deeply, like way the ocean in it's magnitude surrounds a fish or a great white shark. This marks my first holiday on my own. And for some reason I found it hard to be thankful. Not just because I spent the actual day at Starbucks alone and watching a Shakespearean tragedy, but because something was amiss in my heart. I had made a date with some friends to celebrate Thanksgiving on Thursday with a meal and just some fellowship and it felt good. In fact I had a wonderful day. But it wasn't until my friends had left and the dishes were drying my counter that I realized what was missing. And I found it shocking.

I realized that while I had been thankful of the means to provide a meal for my beloved friends and "Montreal family" (food, a home, a love of cooking) I wasn't thankful for the faithful love of a God who makes my life a reality and not just a hope or an aspiration. As I dug a little deeper into the depths of my heart I began to realize that it wasn't selfishness that was driving my lack of appreciation, but rather a lack of understanding of this great love. I think that has been my struggle for a while. I have, as most people do, a very finite definition of the word and my definition is lost in the waves that are created by the very idea of a God who desires, loves and lavishes affection. I think that my heart is broken, and not in a way that denotes sadness or despair but in the fact that it simply does not work. It has forgotten how to respond to such a love and therefore misses out on the splendor of it. When I hear or read of God's love, there in my heart lies a chasm that needs to defied, a clinical view that needs to be taken in and made personal. And that is a greater tragedy than one I just watched. God's love is enormous. So big that there are no words that can express the wonder or majesty of it. It searches the depth and breadth and heights of the earth to find us, the sinners that we are and take us out of dark places and into the light. It is our hope when all else fails, our anchor when we find ourselves lost in the waves not able to tell up from down or left from right. It is bigger than anything that we could imagine and small enough to fit into a simple act of kindness. How could I have missed this for so long? The answer is that I have no clue! I wrestled with God last night and begged for understanding but it did not come, instead exhausted I climb into my Abba's lap and just let go and fell asleep. I hope that one day understanding will come, that I will learn what it is to have someone (yes, that someone is the Lord Almighty) fall in love with me. And that I would learn to accept this love just as I am and not bend my world around trying to change to earn that love. That is my prayer for the moment, that I would come to grips with the fact that God on High, the Creator, who sits above us in Glory is at the same time sitting with me know whispering in my ear and telling tales of how He has moved mountains just for me, so we could be together and so that He would not have to be separated from me any longer. May my heart one day understand this and be overcome by the fury and tempest of His love and swept up in delight and joy every time I think on it.

Rain in the City...

I recently re-read one of my friend’s books. Well, I call him my friend. But he doesn’t even know my name or where I live and I doubt that he ever will. Still, should he find me the offer for friendship remains. His book is about story and how God wants us to live a good story on this earth so that when we get to Heaven we can sit with our Maker and reminice and be reminded of all the times we forgot, all the times we enjoyed and all the times that brought us conflict. I like that image. Sitting with God and laughing, crying and sitting in shock over what this gift of life offered us. I think I like it more than I know.

There is a part in the book where he talks about meaningful scenes and how they may not move the story along at all but all good stories have them. And though they may not be a pivotal point in the story, they bring meaning just the same. There is a scene in Garden State where the characters are all dressed in garbage bags in the rain standing on the edge of a canyon by a boat that is a house. In Lars and the Real Girl, Lars is seen dancing with his “girlfriend” in the garage that is his home. In Forrest Gump, Forrest is the backwoods of Vietnam describing the rain when all of a sudden the clouds clear to reveal a starry sky more beautiful than he has ever seen. In the movie Once, after recording their album, they all pile into the record executive’s car and blast it through the speakers while they drive around Northern Ireland at top speeds. The point is that meaningful scenes are important. They beg us to live a better life. They are the punctuation to a sentence that we will never forget.

It rained today. Like, serious rain. And it came all of a sudden. I stood at my window eleven floors up and just enjoyed it. I enjoyed the wind as it caressed my face, I enjoyed the raindrops and they hit my chest, arms and hands, I enjoyed the sweet smell of the air and the crack of the clouds as they unleashed their fury on the ground below. In the midst of all this I began to think about what my friend said about meaningful scenes and I thought that this might qualify as one.

The truth is I have been worried lately, worried that maybe I haven’t been living a good story. That maybe I was a few chapters behind everyone else in writing a story worth living, but in that instant, memories came flooding back to me. Like my first day in Uganda when I was standing under a tent buying coat hangers and all of a sudden got caught in a rain storm, the rain seeped into the grass and flooded the little market, it ran up over the soles of my flip flops and soaked my feet. Or the time my new roommates and I, only knowing each other for a few hours, put in our grubby clothes and ran through the rain barefoot late one night. I was reminded of the time I was at someone’s house whom I did not know, with a friend and at the first sign of down pour we ran out onto his deck and stood there till we were soaked to the bone and my mascara ran down my cheeks.

As I stood there watching the rain pool in my hands and drip down to street level I was overwhelmed at what I found. Maybe my story wasn’t as boring at I thought it was. Maybe I was living a good story, not quite there, but one that maybe one day would be worth writing down on paper. Maybe I hadn’t squandered all that God had given me. And in that moment I was truly grateful. Grateful to a God who made things like story that teach us what it is to live and that encourage us to keep living, I was grateful to a God who made the rain and the heavens that it falls from and that someday I will sit with Him and talk about this day and why it was special, just like so many others that He spoke to me through.

Museums. I have always loved museums. Even as a little girl I have marvelled at their grandeur and stateliness. They loom into the sidewalk as if to say, “Here I am, full of treasures. I know all about the past and have seen so many wonders your eyes will not believe themselves.” Granted, I have not been to many and in no means do I pretend to be a coinosseur of museums, but ever since I was a girl I have dreamed of going to the Louvre. I think it all happened on a trip to New York City a few years back. When, walking through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I over heard a conversation about how wonderful the Louvre was and how any self-respected art lover would be found there and not in this tiny little museum know as the Met. I couldn’t imagine a museum that was bigger and better and more stately than the one that I was currently standing in. I saw pictures of the Louvre once, on a friend’s digital camera and my heart fell in love. Some day, when I travel Europe, I will go to the Louvre and marvel at what it has to offer.

In the meantime, I will explore any museum I find and enjoy and appreciate art in all forms. This brings me to my newest favorite painting. I saw this at the Musée des Beaux-Arts. I turned a corner and there it was. On a plain wall in some part of the museum where I thought I had gotten lost. As soon as I saw it my heart broke and I stood in front of it for almost half an hour wiping tears from my face. (I’m sure that the security guard was wondering about the apparently emotionally unstable girl standing in front of the painting worried that I would try to tuck it under my arm and make a break for it!) But the thing is, I had just wandered through a section where the only images of Jesus were a young, poor, innocent boy or a defeated shell of a man being hung on a Cross. I think this painting made such an impact because it was clearly different than all the others. This one had life, color, hope. I love what the Savior did for me on that day at Calvary, but I have spent too much of life leaving Him defeated, laiden with pain and on that Cross. He rose again and I think that we never truly live until we understand that He lives too. He came down, off that Cross, in one piece. He conquered death so that we don’t have to live within its clutches.

This painting is a scene from when Jesus raises Jairus’ daughter. Jairus was a temple leader and went to seek the one called Messiah when his daughter fell ill. While he was explaining his case to Jesus a servant from his house came to tell him that unthinkable had happened. His daughter had died. She was no more and Jairus was urged not bother Jesus anymore. Can’t you just see that scene in your head? I can. A father, taking his last chance, fighting through the crowds trying to get to Jesus and earnestly pleading with Him to come and see his daughter. He eventually agrees and before you know it Jesus and entourage is headed to your house. Your heart lifts a little and you are trying not to get too excited until one of your house staff comes, with tear filled eyes, and probably whispers in your ear, “Master, I’m afraid that your daughter is dead. Let’s not bother the Rabbi any longer. Come on let’s go, come on. Stay strong. That’s right keep walking. Just breathe. I know that this is hard but we don’t need a crowd right now. Come on, let’s go.” What an awful, gut wrenching feeling. Here Jairus is, his daughter’s salvation is coming, he can see the roof of his house from here. Jesus is not three feet from him. He can see the dirt under Jesus’ finger nails and smell that He has been traveling. This just isn’t fair. It’s not fair. He is so close and yet so far away. Before Jairus’ thoughts can turn to all the things he could have done instead that would have saved his daughter, Jesus simply says, “Don’t be afraid, just believe.” What audacity, here is Jesus looking Jairus in the face, Jairus has just lost precious little girl, and all He can say, “Just believe”? I don’t know about you, but that is not how I cope with death. Not in the slightest.

When they get to Jairus’ house, Jesus clears the crowd and exclaims that she is simply sleeping and not dead as they all assumed. He enters her room and touches her hand and she opens her eyes, takes a look around and gets out of bed. I bet that there was not one jaw that didn’t hit the floor that night.

But I wonder about this girl. Did she know who Jesus was? Was she accustomed to the lines on this man’s face before he woke her? Was she immediately at peace when she saw him sitting on her bed? Did she grasp the severity of what he had done for her, for her father, for her family and for the neighbors listening at the door? With a simple “Little girl get up.” He had restored a life and a broken family. All because Jairus had faith enough to bother the Rabbi and wait for his miracle to come.

Which makes me think that perhaps Jesus is less occupied with His death on the Cross than you and I might think. It makes me wonder if His mission was not to die here on earth, but to impart life to all have the courage that it takes to “bother” Him. Jesus could have easily held Jairus and his wife while the mourned the loss of their daughter. He could have imparted some beautiful heavenly wisdom in a wonderful eulogy as they laid her low. He could have simply shrugged and apologized for the fact that He couldn’t get there fast enough and encouraged Jairus that they would soon be together at the Lord’s table when Jairus reached eternity. But the point is that He didn’t. He raised that little girl and brought her life out of the grave. That is the point. He restores life. That was His mission and we miss out on that when we leave Him to die in defeat on the Cross like so many of the paintings that I saw in the museum that day. When we forget that Christ has life giving power we leave Jairus’ daughter in her bed, tucked into an eternal slumber. We miss out on so much. Can you imagine the partying that happened in that house that day, and for the days to come? Can’t you just imagine the joy of Jairus and his wife as they tucked their little girl into bed that night thanking, with every fiber of their being, the Savior who had made that moment and so many more like it a possibility again?

I love this painting and this story because there is life in it. It is dripping with life, from the hand of Jesus to the eyes of the little girl to the fly on her arm. The whole thing just sings life. Which is what the Savior does to all of us. He offers us life. He has given me life, and I can taste it. I recently read a blog on not letting yourself have a “near-life experience” by simply succumbing to the slow bleed that can be our lives and not allowing life to imparted to you from a loving and caring Father. I think that those are words we need to hear, and we need to hear them often. There are so many ways in which we can die prematurely and be found not alive while life is happening right around us. I don’t want that to be me. And I don’t want that to be you either. I want life for you and for your little girl. It is too precious of a thing to leave on the bed of one that you love, or on the Cross of one who loved you. Choose life, at all costs, Jairus did and I know that He never regretted it.

And as much as I love museums, all that they can show us is how life was lived, or preserved or guessed at or interpreted. They can’t show us how to live now or what the next steps for us are. Only life and Creator of it can do that. So until I get to the Louvre, and wherever the path from there takes me, I will live my life as a celebration of the One who raised this little girl, both the one lying in the bed and the one being reflected by the computer screen as I write this, and enjoy this life with gusto and zeal because it is a gift. Given to me by a Messiah who enjoyed His and makes mine count.

The Sunrise and CS Lewis

I believe in God like I believe in the sunrise. Not because I can see it but because by it I can see everything else.

-CS Lewis.

Some of my favorite memories of my childhood are of when my father would read out loud to me. One summer he read me the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. A literary staple to every childhood. I enjoyed its whimsy and intrigue and all the delights and the perils of the Pevensie children. It was such fun. I would lie in my parents’ great big bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets and the voice of my father would carry off into the mystical land of Narnia and beyond to take part in adventure and uncertainty.

I have stood by the Chronicles of Narnia ever since. The memories still linger and though the series always remained a set of books that I would recommend to every child in town, my connection with the author was lost. But there is a moment in every dwindling friendship that has the power of re-awaking it and that moment was brought on by this quote. It sort of rocked my world, actually. And even though that was years ago I can feel the impact of this statement in my heart even now.

You see, for years I struggled with what to do with my belief in God. I couldn’t shake it; sure I tossed it around a lot and in sat in various places in the bedroom of my heart. Not much unlike that piece of paper with the phone number of an old friend that you are going call once you have the time. You don’t want to file it away in case you forget where you filed it and you don’t want to throw it away knowing that if you do you will forget for eternity and never call. And so my belief was something that I came across again and again. Sometimes I found it under my bed; sometimes it was on my chair. This awkward thing that just sort of stuck around. When it was useful it was very useful and when it wasn’t I would usually just end up tripping over it on my way to something else.

This quote began to put this whole “faith” thing into perspective for me. It challenged me to not just stare at it and occasionally try it on just for good measure, it challenged me to pick it up and look through it. It challenged me to put it to use. It is possible to believe in God like you believe in the sunrise, and that is a very romantic notion. One that I am rather inclined to like, but at the same time, sunrises can be fickle. On the northern pole of this planet the sun sometimes doesn’t rise, and depending on the season you are either woken up by its rays or left waiting staring out your window for a glimmer of hope that perhaps summer hasn’t left after all. But, if you count on its light and the direction that it gives then there is a constancy.

Regardless of whether you see the sunrise you can still make out objects by the light that it sheds. Some days are brilliant with the light of the sun; others tend to leave you squinting and estimating where things are and where you will end up. When we believe that through the eyes of faith we can see everything that is around us and actually put that faith to the test then we can understand what it is to believe in something more than just the fickleness of a sunrise.

The book of Job reminds of this more than anything. Job had it all, a wife, kids, and wealth and in one fell swoop Satan took it all away. But God, for some reason allowed him. Job was left with nothing more than the ruins of a life he once knew and some pretty attractive boils. But despite his wife’s pleas to curse God and despite his friends’ poor advice, he looked beyond the sunrise mentality and hung in there. He could see, at least for a while, what God was doing because he was looking at his life through the light cast by the sunrise. He wasn’t face first to the horizon waiting for that amber globe to rise and hover above it, he was probably standing with his back to the horizon waiting for the rays to continually light the tragedy of his life from an eternal perspective. When that failed God brought Him Elihu to remind him how to use the light and see properly.

When we are forced to look at things from the perspective of eternity the shapes shift. Job realized that in this heavenly hue the tragedies afforded to him could serve a bigger purpose than just himself. They could serve to glorify his God, the God that he had lost everything for in the first place. They could serve to teach him about the Almighty and His vastness and when you lose the eternal perspective on your life things get a little dim and all that begins to come into focus is what lies around you and how those objects make you feel. Without the light of the sunrise we forget that we are dearly loved servants of the Most High and that we have two purposes on this earth; to be loved by and to glorify God.

As I learned (and am still learning) to see the light of the sunrise and understand that it illuminates that which is important from an eternal perspective I noticed (and am noticing) how life slowly began (and begins) to come back together. It was no longer about that which caused me pain or discomfort but it became about that which brings glory to my Creator and how I can ease the pain and discomfort of others. When you go about your life not waiting on the sunrise, but knowing how to see from the light that it brings things get simpler. There is no longer this anxious worry about whether the sun will rise or not. There is no getting up early and impatiently waiting at the windowsill. There is simply this calm of knowing that when the sun does rise and the light fills the room, your life is embraced by eternity and all of the questions and doubts are either erased or satisfied. You can live life, not because the sun has risen, but because it has served its purpose and has lit your way.

Admittedly, I would rather some days worry about the sunrise than the life that it is about illuminate, but that is why we have Job 38. A series of beautiful yet terrifying questions about how the world works and how we control it. They are enough to remind me that when I begin to boss God around I better know what I am doing, because He has seen it all and has traced the universe with His own hand.

I used to wonder what to do with my belief in God, now I know that instead of just tripping over it it must be used and exercised or there really is no point in having it. Like Lucy’s elixir, there is no point in possessing something so valuable if it will simply go to waste.

La vie...

Life is a funny thing.

It never releases all its secrets at once. It kind of keeps you hanging on, always at its mercy, being tossed by every whim and fancy. Which I suppose has me sitting here today. I am on my own now, in a town not my own and surrounded by a language that seems just a distant memory.

I am in Montreal, far from where I thought I would ever be and yet so close I can almost taste it. Today it rained. I love the city in the rain and used most of my afternoon to watch the umbrellas bob up and down the main streets and in and out of metro stations in this french town as the drops fell from the heavens in varying shapes and sizes. It was a wonderful sight, each umbrella unique in form and color. Some had ears, others had tassels, some were garish hues of pink and green, others afforded no style at all. What a joy that I am afforded this luxury. I think that I am in love. In love with a life that could be mine and is mine. A life in the middle of rain and umbrellas and crowds and metro stations.

After all this we still have hope...

Meet my brother. Or at least what is left of him. The beautiful auburn locks that curled around his eyes are no more, all that remains in their stead is unrecognizable stubble. I think that I like this new "do" for my brother, it is by far the shortest cut he has ever received. But this story runs much deeper than just the disappearing coif of my favorite brother, the true story starts with a boy named Sam and his battle.
On Tuesday over 400 people piled into the gym at Cedars and 40 brave people stepped forward to lose their locks in support of one named Sam. Sam is a grade 5 student diagnosed with Lukemia and fighting his way through the first rounds of a journey that will take more than 1000 days.
The band played and the razors buzzed as girls and boys offered support to the struggling family. It was an amazing sight, those who could donated their hair to locks of love for other victims of cancer. I couldn't believe my eyes. As I was snapping pictures I honestly had to hold back the tears that were trying to break from my face. The event started with a word of prayer, a reading of a verse and a thank you bestowed by the Sam's father.
As the hair came off and cheers erupted from the crowd, there was something different in the over all tone and hustle and bustle of things. There was an overwhelming feeling of hope. Here was this boy facing cancer, probably the biggest fight in his life and yet there was hope. This hope wasn't brought by fake smiles and reassurances that everything would be fine, it was the honest and true hope of Jesus Christ. It was that same hope that is promised to us each and every day by One who has promised us life eternal and unconditional love. As I looked around I couldn't help but feel a tinge of pain for those in my life who have no hope at all, those who don't have any hope in the promise of tomorrow and wiping away of our sins.
It was a scene that truly could have only happened within a crowd of believers and that could only be understood by those who have seen the workings of grace and tasted the sweetness of a Hope that is forever ours. As I watched, while the last two girls, Sam's older sisters, shave their heads I was astonished at the amount of selfless love they truly had for their brother.
I understand the significance of the shaving, but for me it went a little further this time. Just as my brother and the other volunteers wait for and hope that their hair to grows back, so we need to wait and hope that life will rise again, where ever that maybe. After all doesn't the phoenix arise from the ashes, even after burning up and withering away? It does, and with an eye on the promises that lay ahead of us we still have hope...
My Brother losing his hair...
The crowd that gathered
Sam's sisters in the final stages of taking it off...

Please support this family, you can view their blog at http://samsconqueringofall-goertzens.blogspot.com/

Can't Go Back Now...

Yesterday, when you were young,
Everything you needed done was done for you.
Now you do it on your own
But you find you're all alone,
What can you do?

You and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now.

You know there will be days when you're so tired that you can't take another step,
The night will have no stars and you'll think you've gone as far as you will ever get

But you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
And yeah, yeah, go where you want to go
Be what you want to be,
If you ever turn around, you'll see me.

I can't really say why everybody wishes they were somewhere else
But in the end, the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself

And you and me walk on
Yeah you and me walk on
Cause you can't go back now
Walk on, walk on, walk on
You can't go back now

---The Weepies

I was having lunch with my sister this afternoon and this song came up in conversation. It was one of those conversations about life and God and purpose. This song has meant a lot to me these past few weeks, it points to how I have been feeling these past few months since returning from Uganda.
My life has changed dramatically and experiences that I once had and friends I once held dear are fading. People move on and stay the same, as much as there is heart ache in this, my only choice is to walk on. I need to forge the life that God is calling me to. I need to make steps on my own so that I can learn to be who I am created to be. This is the hardest thing. It means letting go, even if you aren't ready and even if it hurts. Priorities change and the milestones you once looked forward to are no longer available or meaningful.
Yet in all of this there is hope, always hope and that is what I need to find on a daily basis. I just need to let go and walk on...

Today I met with the youth pastor that I am replacing while she is on her maternity leave. It was a great meeting. I feel so refreshed and energized, and I feel really excited for this opportunity. In the past couple of days I have felt this wave of passion come over me and I feel as though I am discovering things for the first time. I am thrilled for this position and Iook forward to all the challenges that it is going to bring!
I just want to publicly say "Thank you" to my God who lead me to this and will carry me through this!
This is such a lovely opportunity!

My newest blessing...

I have been hired by my Church to be the Student Ministries Coordinator. I am so excited and thankful. I love teenagers and I completely understand the angst and confusion that comes with all of the life-changing things teenagers go through. 
I have truly been blessed and everyday I am learning that maybe there is a plan in this gigantic mess that I call my life and that maybe I haven't been exiled for nothing.

I have been struggling alot with hurt from very close friends and have spent alot of time wondering what I did wrong to deserve the treatment that I am getting, but the more i spend wondering what I did wrong the less time I have to focus who God is making me and where He is taking me  and all I want is to enjoy this ride. I have nothing holding me back, and no place to hide....so I go. To those who have hurt me (however melodramatic this may sound), I totally forgive you and I wish you well in all your future endeavors. If you want, you know where to find me. From now on I am done. I'm going where I should be and following where God has called me. No turning back...

Pretence

One of the things that I have been struggling alot with is who I am and who everyone who surround me is. In school we have been talking alot about religion and God. It has caused alot of self-reflection. Am I who I am because of what I believe, or do I believe what I believe because of who I am. I am not sure. At present I am writing a paper on whether or not religion is poisonous and counter-productive. The answer, I don't know. The problem with religion is that it is full of humans. Complex, paradoxical, confused and unpredictible humans.
In truth, as I look around I must confess that some of my "religious" friends disappoint me. They are tranparent, self-seeking and too wrapped up in their own joys or sorrows to even notice those around them. I can't tell you how often I have been asked for advice and have tried to point them to the world and our role within it, only to be severed from all connection and to be excluded from that point on. Am I wrong in doing this?
However, I have been met with a refreshing breeze that is a person who sees beyond themselves and into the hearts of others and can dream with me of a better world and how to get there. 
I want so bad to write a paper upholding the joys and importance of religion  and all of the wonderful things that it can bring to a person's life and to a society, but I don't know if I can be truthful about it when I am screaming at the top of my lungs "Stop this selfishness! Stop this pretence."

Maybe I need to just be good that belief and religion can be and hope that others follow....
Thoughts??

So, wow, this is my first post in a very long time!
I can't believe how in life things change and things that once were constant are no longer. 
As a little girl looking into the future I never saw what is now my life unfolding in front of me. As I sit and struggle with this, I am prone to wondering if my life now is better or worse than the one that I had envisioned. 
I come to the conclusion that I don't know. My life is not over, judging it would be like judging a book before the last page and yet, if my life doesn't look like the one that I wanted when I was younger then how is it going to be anything like the one that I envisioned. 
Things are different. Friends are gone, family is gone, boys that I thought were meant for me ended up with girls that I never dreamed of. I struggle daily with the effects left from my father's stroke and always wonder at the possibility of how many milestones in my life will he see. There is an unclearness when it comes to where I will be in 5 years, 10 years and even 40.
On the other hand I have been given a new name, from the people in Uganda, that I have spent my life loving. I have seen a new society, killed cockroaches the size of my hands. I have looked at the deepest sunset as though I have fallen into a great abyss and into the hands of my beloved Father. I have felt the deepest passion and the hardest hearbreak. I have measured my own strength against my heros' and realized that I am made of the same vulnerable and impenetrable fabric. I have reached my hand out and felt the face of an invisible God.
I have to wonder where these all things that I dreamed of? Where these moments that my young mind could not grasp?
The future is fickle and an unkindly friend, so I conclude that my life is not made based on the merits of my dreams and hopes, but on the merit of grace recieved, freely, and the moments that you put yourself out there to be broken and vulnerable.
These are the things that true dreams are made of.
As for my life, is it better or worse that I had dreamed?? It is both. But there is a goodness in it that comes not from me, but from an everloving Father who I will meet face to face one day. So until then, my life is still being written. I am still a portrait that is being painted, I won't be able to judge it until my final day has come.

This is a pic of me freaking out for two reasons!!
1) I leave in 9 days!!!!!
2) My backpack is too small, either that or I have too much stuff!!

This breaks my heart...

The war in Northern Uganda is something that I hold close to my heart. I think about the citizen herded into camps like livestock, the children forced to kill and maim abolishing all hope for a future and for peace, the girls viciously attacked and forced to be mothers of children that will only learn to kill and terrorize. I think about the cycle of abuse and neglect that Uganda faces if justice is not brought. The other thing I think about is how we do nothing. How we sit here in our houses, surrounded by our big screen TVs, our expesive vacations and our fancy cars and how having all the wealth in the world we can't bring ourselves to have one ounce of campassion for those facing this horror everyday. If it was us in this mess wouldn't we demand action?? Wouldn't we demand that our cries would be heard? Wouldn't we want everyone to rally and bring back to us our lost sons and our lost daughters?
How can we do this? How can we sit twiddling our thumbs while an opportunity walks us by? We could be the generation to end this war, to restore a country, but we aren't?
I'm sick of inaction isn't it about time we showed the world that Canada cares?
What can you do to stop this? What can i do to stop this?
And, why aren't we doing it?

we're goin through changes..

I think I smell a change in the wind says I.


WELL I FRIGGIN' HOPE SO!!!
Keep yah updated!!

Where do they all go??

Thanks to a certain tool called facebook, I can now connect with people that I haven't seen in years. Seriously, it is sooooo cool. I love finding people that i just don't have the guts to phone. It rocks. But it is also very sad. What happens to everybody?? All the Christians that I used to look up to? Where do they all go. All I see is nasty pics and beer-chugging moments. Woohoo...**slumps in chair**...not. I dunno it just makes me sad. Very sad. Satan has won..
Poo....

letting my guard down

Here I am. Late at night, nothing but the glow of my computer screen and speakers. Nothing but the noise of Dakona playing softly in the background. It might be that I am tired, it might be that I haven't eaten much today, it may even be the thoughts swirling around like snowflakes in my head. Whatever it is that makes me feel this way--it makes me feel lost within myself. Like some kind of painting that isn't completed yet, or a photograph partially developed. Maybe the most detrimental thing to do is to stay in this place but I like it. It reminds me of playing with a bruise, how you poke it and it hurts but only a little. A kind of bittersweet. Whatever it is I feel as though I am lost, as though I am dying and as though I am reaching out for some unattainable goal. Like a jewel beyond my reach, something just out mind. I feel as though I am captive and it is now that I have earned temporary parole. I feel like a prisoner set from my cell, but the weight of the now absent shackles are felt around my wrists and ankles and my heart knows that come morning I shall be bound again. I wish that I could have someone to share these moments with. Moments like the lingering of an almost kiss. Moments of touching God and Earth, of floating and hitting the ceiling. I feel hope and at the same time doomed to walk this earth alone. I long to dance, not to any hip hop beat, but to tune of my heart beating close to someone else's. Some talk about God as a lover, as the most passionate and valiant of beaus, but I just can't. Maybe that is my problem. To me He is savior and guide, yes I love Him and I know of His deep love for me. But to me He is Father and friend. Someone to lead me down the aisle, not someone to for me to join when I have walked it. I want a love in this world. Someone to hold and share the calm of midnight with. Will that come? Or will all my dreams end with me. Will I dance alone, like my nana on the night of my grandpa's funeral? An image that has stuck fresh in my mind for almost ten years now. Calm, serene and beautiful is how she looked that night- I'll always remember her strength as she laid her husband in the ground.
Maybe I will dance, just me and my Father, my Savior. Dance the night away.
Finally some movement in the stillness.
For tomorrow I will wake up and all will have moved on. Might as well savor it all now.

Songs in my pocket, songs in my pocket, songs in my pocket!!

Put your IPOD on random. For every song that plays, write about who, or what, it reminds you of. Or what this song signifies. 9 songs later, you may be nostalgic...or maybe inspired.



Grace Like a River-Delirous. This song reminds me of Delirious concerts with Melissa Wilson, over priced concert merchandise and a wierd dance team that really made no sense and of course the never-ending grace of an ever-loving savior. How his grace washes over us always.

My Heavenly- Jars Of Clay. This one brings me back to a time of feeling lost, and then found. And in that finding purpose in life--even in the smallest thing. In my mind I picture a driving down a long dirt road all alone, only to meet my one true love and fly above it all.

Let It Be- The Beatles. Just calm and peace is what this reminds me of. Of finding inspiration in a guitar solo. Reminds me of my graduation and knowing that now I must step into the real world and let all that has past be and just let it rest. It also reminds me of a bride walking down the aisle to her soon to be husband. I want to walk down the aisle to this song!

I so hate consequences- Relient K. Just that-- it reminds me of all of the bullsh*t I have pulled in my life and how time and time again I can shy away of what I want and what is required of me. It's a place of being sorry and catching up with my actions.

Girls & Boys- Good Charlotte. Reminds me of head banging, driving over the speed limit, and singing the wrong lyrics. Also it reminds me of watching late night Much Music with Emma.

Will I- Rent. This song is quite simple. The only lines are: Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare? Very powerful. It reminds me of Jesus' final night on this earth and the questions and uncertainty He faced. It reminds me of His grief and sorrow.

Shipwreck-Starfield. This song reminds me of the past few years of life. Coming back to God in a whole new way and trading all that I have for Him and His plan for me.

Sanctus- Drentch. Deep, Deep worship. Just stillness, just my heart speaking and connecting with God.

Sweet Home Alabama- Lynyrd Skynyrd. Ummm, Jamming on the Guitar. Alexis White, and of course Forrest Gump.

untitled

I love airports!! Absolutely love them! They are the doorsteps to the world. They are the gates to all that I want to see. African Savannahs, Mayan Ruins, the French Riviera, the Nile, the Mediterranean Sea! Ohhh, so wonderful. The world at your finger tips. But also so depressing. So close and yet so far away. As Juliet once described, like a child that has new clothes for a festival, but cannot wear them. Almost like a kid in a candy store too short to reach the gummies on the top shelf. How sad, to be arms length away from your dream, your dependency and not quite reach it. Close enough to be enveloped by the smell of delight but not feel the warm, smooth melt in your mouth. How tragic. The worst kind of disappointment. I think that is where I am today. Have you ever wanted something so desperately that it consumes your very core? You would give up your life; literally lay it down, to have but one taste. Would you walk away from your family, friends, comforts, and job? I would. Have you ever wanted something so bad that it is the first thought when you wake up and the last thought before you go to sleep, and after that it even lingers around in your dreams?
Here is my problem. I want this thing so bad, but I'm afraid to ask God for it. Afraid that He will say no, afraid that He will give anything but His blessing. I can't stand another closed door. I'm at my wits end. I can't move forward without His blessing, but I'm afraid to ask. I know that He would lead me somewhere else if I said no, but can my tiny little finite mind understand His firm but loving hand as He says no and closes the portal? I don't think I can. So here I sit, on the edge of wanting, but having no courage to stand up and say that this is what I want and ask for an answer. Furthermore, I am afraid that He will say yes. Then I will truly have to put my money where my mouth is. I will have to walk away from my family, friends and comforts and get on that plane and not look back. Am I strong enough? Can my heart handle that? It is easier said than done to put all of your faith in something that is unknown.
I will I ever have enough courage?
I'm terrified.

Breaking News!!

Well. It is official. I am a dork. I joined the hordes of other dorks, yesterday, as we lined up to take----- SUMMER SCHOOL!! Because year-round learning should be a staple. None of this half-ass September to May garbage. And to top it all off, what exactly am I taking? Political Sciences and History. Everyone give me a round of applause because you are looking at an all-new Dork Dara!
The classes are actually fun. I really enjoy them. I just think I'm crazy to be taking two 8:30 am classes in the summer. Oh well. At least I'll be done by Mid-June!
Wish me luck today--I have my review at work, with both owners and the manager. A little nervous....
Oh well.
It's nap time.
Catch you later.