He moves

I have just finished a dinner with my husband and two friends and I am amazed at just how many things four people can manage to talk about in just a few hours!

This evening, our dinner topics covered the basic 101 in conversation: questions.  How are you?  How is work?  How is your family, wife, sister, girlfriend etc.?  What’s new for you?  Then once those basics are covered I find something amazing happens: the natural evolution of conversation.  (By evolution I mean the speed of topics covered and just how many topics are covered during a conversation.)  Now, I reckon that the speed of evolution is directly correlated to A. the amount of people in the group and B. the type of personalities.  With quieter personalities, it would be easy to assume that the evolution pace is much slower, but with personalities like those we had around our dinner table this evening, the evolution was fast!

So we started off with how good the food was (I made homemade Lasagne: thanks Mum!)  We commented on our rate of consumption, types of food we ate and the rest of it.  Then, inevitably, we talked about relationships.  We covered the lack of single people found in the church these days (or at least the lack of 20-30 something singles) and moved on to online dating.  We talked about babies, death, funerals, family and caught up on general “how is so-and-so” type of conversation.  After that we moved into the Spiritual realm of things.  This is common for Bas and I as we are spiritual people and like to seek for God in the every day to day dealings of our lives.  We talked about the summer camp I’m involved with, how God orchestrates the meeting of singles who may become couples (for a conversation about my experience and opinion on that, let’s go for coffee!)  We came around again to camping, church, car accidents with animals, my crazy experiences on the bus lately and we ended with more spiritual talk.

Why am I writing about this all?  Well, I guess I am fascinated by people in general, and always love to reminisce about the topics covered at a dinner gathering.  It reminds me that we are indeed complex beings as humans and love to interact with one another.  The beautiful flow of conversation intrigues me immensely as if our memoirs and ramblings spark some kind of memory in another and they are compelled to share.  Thus, the conversation goes around and around.  What is more fascinating, however, is how these relationships build over time.  At first, new friends are breaking ground together with questionings and sharing about life, but as time goes on, the flow of conversation becomes natural, like breathing.  Being with those people is comfortable, safe, and allows you to each open up and share on a deeper level.

Meaningful conversations is something that makes me tick.  Give me an hour, a cup of tea and a good friend and I am more satisfied than a Trekkie at a Convention!  I love to hear stories from your life, hear how those experiences have shaped you now and influence your decisions.  I love to journey with others through painful experiences and see myself in your shoes and try to imagine how that might feel.  I love to be asked difficult spiritual questions, not have the answer, and wrestle to find a solution through long conversations.

My old room mate and I used to talk for hours.  She visits back and forth from Sudan where she has spent years working.  We often would talk about all kinds of topics, but our favourite was God and relationships.  I loved hearing about her experiences, her deep friendships made out in Africa, and then I had the pleasure of meeting these people a couple of times.  I saw a glimpse into someone else’s life, and through that glimpse I was able to see God.

That’s what happens over these evolutions in conversation: we open ourselves up to one another over time, we journey randomly through topics, but through these friendships and sharings, I am convinced that we each get to glimpse God, be it in a small or large way I don’t know.  All I do know is that He is there in the midst of our time, and He revels in our connections with one another.

He is the Force that connects us.

Imagine a world where everything was at your feet.  Now add in the possibility that you could hypothesize, play with theories and mathematics like a child would with blocks, the ability to learn faster than humanly possible, earn millions in days and have any woman or man that you might desire.  Now imagine that all this was possible if you just put your trust into a drug you knew nothing about.

That’s what Limitless is all about: the possibility that we could have it all: all we have to do is sell our soul to a clear plastic pill.

In The Tragicall History of Dr Faustus it has already happened: except in the 1600’s.  Faustus is a theologian, but poor.  He knows the fundamentals of religion, and does know God, but he is tempted by witchcraft.  He comments that he has explored every possibility in life and he is still left empty.  The play opens with him debating with himself about whether or not he should enter into what he knows is something that could end badly.  He conjures up Mephistophilis, a devil that serves Lucifer, and the two strike a deal.  Faustus can have 24 years of life on Earth with Mephistophilis as his servant, and then his soul will be Lucifers.

Problem was, Faustus wasted his skills.  The main character of Limitless could be seen as somewhat similar: he doesn’t waste his intelligence per se, but he does not learn!  He is bound by the drug: his dependance on something that gives him this ability.  The two are bosom buddies: they are not limitless.  They are bound by their mortality, as are we.

As much as we muster an opposition to the idea, discuss it in groups or ponder over it in solitude, you and I are mortals.

I have always been fascinated by the character of Data in Star Trek’s Next Generation.  Despite being an android, during the course of the seven seasons, he explores his own mortality and his own humanness.  Essentially, he asks the question “what is it that makes us human”?  In the episode I watched today (and revelled over!) Data comes face to face with his own mortality.  I won’t bore you with details, or explain to you the ins and outs of Star Trek (you’ll have to watch it for yourself) but Data has the possibility to last forever.  He does not, however.  He does not die in this episode, but poignantly at the end of the final movie for the Next Generation series.

Data gives his life for the benefit of someone else.  Fans have loved Data’s exploration of humanity throughout the whole seven seasons.  One of my favourite whimsical episodes is “Data’s Day” in which the show leaves aside the important missions, and lets the viewer in on the more personal aspects of each characters day.  Data follows them in the hopes to discover how he himself can become more human.  One of the greater episodes in many people’s opinion is “The Measure of a Man” in which there is a court ruling over whether or not Data is property of Starfleet, or an employee.  The question throughout that episode: what makes someone human?  So interestingly enough, after all these hours of watching, discussing, seeing characters develop, the entire series should end with the death of Data in a very Christ-like manner.

Read into this what you will, but I was left saddened at first, but then it made sense.

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

John 15:13

Movies, theatre, stories, poetry, even religious scriptures all explore the theme of humanness, of humanity.  What are we that God is mindful of us?

We are mortal.  We are not limitless.  We are limited, at least by our mortality.  We dream of immortality, of greatness.  But much like Icarus, our great dreams lead us sometimes too close to the Sun, like Faustus, to hubris, but maybe like Data, to the truth.

What if the greatest thing we could do with our lives was not to earn limitless amounts of money to better ourselves, but to better others?  What if the focus of our day job was not solely to do our jobs well, but to do them well and be mindful of others?  Mother Teresa, although a fine example to us, was a unique one.  We cannot all be Mother Teresa’s in Nepal because some of us have contracts, kids, bills, mortgages.  But maybe we could each turn one or two degrees in our life styles and realize the great gift of our humanity, and realizing that through others around us.

And that is maybe a key: others.  We are not alone on this “mortal coil”, but in community.  Humanity could be reaching out through the awkward social situations we often find ourselves in and touch the lonely, or the marginalized, the untouchables.

And in this all I am still reminded of Data, his final act while alive (or functioning) was to realize his humanity and give his life for the sake of others.

Bas flew to Toronto this morning, albeit only for 3 days, but it’s hard to say goodbye to him nonetheless.

When we first met, we spent all of our time together (when we had free time).  Dinners, Saturdays, lunch after church, even before we were dating, we just liked spending time together.  We do it well.  But then it was time for me to fly home to the UK for the Summer, and we embarked on what would be 16 months of long distance dating.  So you can understand that we both get uneasy when we see the airport looming on the horizon, both of us knowing that we will have to say goodbye and experience echoes of all of those emotions again.

In the days running up to a goodbye during our long distance period, it was rough.  We’d argue, I’d feel sick, indecisive, frustrated.  Emotions ran high and wide until that moment when one of us watched the other walk through the security gate at the airport and our countdown until the next time would begin.  Just five more months, just three more weeks, just another day.  It was a roller coaster that neither of us ever want to go through again.

Long distance dating had it’s long-term benefits though.  We learned to communicate better.  We’d meet on Skype as often as possible, but we’d always have the 8 hour time difference between Canada and Holland.  It was my lunch and his evening.  It was my late evening and his early morning.  Either way, we were both in different time zones and periods of the day which took a surprising toll.  But we had to talk, it was all we had that kept us together in those days.  Some days were tough: we were tired, Bas’ Masters Thesis was taking it’s toll, and worst was when one of us was sick and the other couldn’t be there. But now, almost three years later, we’re able to benefit from those frustrating times.  We have to talk, one of us is ESL (which he aptly names himself!) and that already adds a lot to the mix in our relationship.  During those frustrating skype conversations that had time delay, video delay or just bad connection, we were building on a better communicative future, without us really knowing about it.

One of my sweetest memories though, was on my birthday.  It was the first birthday after we had gotten together as a couple, and only a few days after I had arrived back in Canada.  I knew I wouldn’t see him until at least Christmas.  Bas told me to call, on my birthday, at a specific time.  I did my hair all nice, put my makeup on and waited until the said time.  I called, put my video on, and Bas answered.  He’d decorated his room with balloons and even wore a party hat!  We could celebrate together even though we were living with an ocean in between us.  It was that very day that he gave me a great gift: he was going to move to Canada.  We didn’t know when, or how, but that was his birthday gift: the knowledge that he was moving to be close to me.  He is so sweet.

It wasn’t until a year and a half later though that it finally happened.  And only after a miracle had been given to us by God Himself.  Bas had come to Vancouver in March the following year and started looking for a job.  Hard.  Two weeks of searching turned up almost nothing, until one of the final days of the trip when Bas went back to UBC to hear a friends presentation.  He had previously interned there for four months, leading to our meeting.  At the presentation at UBC was a scout from Holland, looking for someone to open a Canadian office on behalf of a dutch company.  Long story short, Bas has now been working as a manager for this company for almost 3 years.  Our long distance story was finally coming to an end.

During those days we had to put all our trust into God’s hands.  We knew we wanted to be together, we loved each other, but it didn’t always make sense that we had to be so far away from each other, constantly having to say goodbye.  Bas had the feeling that our relationship was right, that moving to Canada was a good decision, but we weren’t seeing results.  But then, just a few months after this meeting, Bas was in my arms at the airport.  It was the final time we’d have to say goodbye for the long term.

So this is me reminiscing over the old days.  I got thinking about it when I said goodbye for the umpteenth time at the airport today.  Bas has to go away a lot on business, it’s always short trips, but it definitely brings up old memories.

The LORD is my Guide,

My soul shall have satisfaction.

 

He leads me to Peace and Stillness,

In them, my heart finds its rest.

The LORD brings me renewal

And He leads my life towards Righteousness

For the sake of His Kingdom.

 

When I am surrounded by darkness

And chased by fear,

The Lord will walk ahead of me– I can hide in Him,

His Living Word will comfort me.

 

I am victorious because of You!

I have hope in the face of hopelessness,

I can be filled with Joy to the point of bursting.

 

I am assured that Your Presence

And Blessings

Will go with me

Until I meet you in Glory.

Amen.

I’m on my shift break right now while I work here at Ten Thousand Villages.  I have organic Chai tea in my hand, have devoured my Cobs cinnamon scone and will get back to work in just a moment.  In the meantime, I want to tell you a little bit about what I do here and why I do it.

Ten Thousand Villages started more than sixty years ago when Edna Byler went to Puerto Rico.  She brought back local artisan’s goods to the US where she sold them to her friends.  The idea of providing economic sustainability grew and now you are looking at an organization that has stores all across Canada. 80% of our products are made by women and 100% of our products are fair trade.

“Fair trade is just a term thrown around these days” you say.  Yes, you’re right, and how can we trust the seller who promises this ethic?  Ten Thousand Villages partners with artisan groups from all around the world, including Kenya, Uganda, Nepal, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Peru and tons of other countries.  The partnerships are long term, meaning that workers and artisan groups can rely on steady income.  Artisan groups make sure their employees have health care as far as is possible in their location, housing, and potentially even schooling for children.

So you and I as buyers can have a conscience.  We’re living in a material driven society, so instead of rampaging against that, why not flow with it?  Instead of buying all our goods from sweatshops and poorly paid workers in some factory in goodness-knows-where, why not make a conscious choice to help change someone’s life?  I know, I know, it’s not that easy.  But what if we each make one small change?  I know it is somewhat impossible to buy all things fair trade, corporations such as Nike and other companies not as well known, have made that somewhat non-feasable.  But what if we made a small choice?

Let me tell you about something that has bothered me lately.  Chocolate.  I LOVE chocolate, I could eat it everyday, and my dentist can tell you that I do by how many cavities I have had filled in the last 4 years.  Oops.  But anyways.  I love the stuff, but what I found out recently has made me even more aware about the unfairness of our society.

Let’s make up a man based on what I know.  I’ll call him Aldo (because that’s a peruvian name, and I was just in Peru….).  Aldo owns a cocoa farm and sells his cocoa beans to Mr Jones.  Mr Jones is alusive, buys Aldo’s cocoa beans and sells them to Mr Smith.  Mr Smith makes a killing by buying Mr Jone’s beans, aquired for a poor price from our peruvian farmer, Aldo.  Mr Smith takes these peruvian cocoa beans and sells them to Nestle, who gobbles them up and pays Mr Smith 3 times what Aldo sold them for.  Who looses here?

Nestle then goes on to mix up their peruvian cocoa beans from Mr Smith, with cocoa beans from Mr Ngembe from West Africa, loosing all traces of poorly paid for cocoa beans.  They make crappy tasting chocolate filled with sugar, sell it for $1.79 a bar and Aldo in Peru gets about one cent for every bar sold.

Crappy deal eh?

This is a true story, and it happens every day.

So let’s make a decision.  Most of us can afford to pay one more dollar for chocolate that is certified to be fair trade, which means that certification label can guarantee that the farmer in Peru, say Aldo, has gotten a fair wage for his goods.  Likelyhood is that the chocolate also tastes better.  Companies such as Cocoa Kamino (who produce Divine Chocolate) are share-owned by the farmers themselves.  A man from Ten Thousand Villages recently went to West Africa where he met some of these share holders- mostly women.  They laughed at him knowing that they were the owners of a company who had white men in suits working for them!

One more dollar isn’t really all that much to pay for the knowledge that someone, somewhere (maybe even Aldo) has enough money to put dinner on the table for his family….

City of Hope!  Find your million in Vegas!  Win big bucks, shop for fashion, feel glamourous, gamble ’till you drop, “Hot Girls Direct to you in Twenty Minutes”, Sin City, city of indulgence.

Imported palm trees line “the Strip” where hundred of thousands of tourists walk during all hours of the day.  Sky scrapers kiss the heavens and glimmer with gold in the mid day sun.  Trump Tower stands proud and alone, just offset from the main road of Vegas and distant, dusty mountains strain to be as glorious as the Bellagio or the MGM.  The hot sun beats down on the tarmac, taxis and travellers, this is supposed to be a taste of freedom?  People from around the globe flock to this city to gamble away their savings, eat constantly and shop for the latest trends in the high end stores.  But why?  What is so attractive about this flat desert wasteland in the middle of nowhere in Nevada?  Beyond the boundaries of these towers and malls lies nothing but dust.  We are in a valley and surrounded by nothing.

I shared an elevator last night with a big guy who walked in, talking on his cell phone.
“Don’t talk to me man,” he said.  “I just lost $2500”.  He looked as sick as a dog.  What will he explain to his wife or girlfriend?  His coworkers and friends?  “How was Vegas?” they’d ask.  “I lost a ton of money” he’d reply.  $2500?  Thats a monthly wage for some, half a monthly wage for others, and for some in distant parts of the world that don’t get thought about here, that’s maybe a sum they’ll never experience in this life.  People spend millions each day on the shiny, attractive machines that tempt you from every angle.  Lights blink, familiar characters and TV shows stare down at you, daring you to challenge them.  It could be very easy to spend a lot of time and money here just to prove that you could win.  And then where do you stop?  When you win $100? $1000?  Blackjack, craps and poker tables, all manned with friendly attendants litter the floor of each casino.  “Come on, give t a go” they all say.  Ego could drive you to poverty here.

It’s said that Vegas gives hope to the hopeless.  I don’t see hope anywhere.  I see drunks.  People are drunk on self indulgence, alcohol, porn, lust, peep shows, shopping, food and glamour.  I don’t want this.  My body is even rebelling against the food I’ve been putting in it, it’s anarchy.  I feel ripped off at the salons promising “luxurious indulgence for your feet”, “beautifully manicured hands and a relaxing atmosphere”.  I’ve walked away with a crap gel nail job (cost: $65) and a semi well done pedicure (cost: $70).  I thought I’d feel better off for this all.  What am I doing here?

Maybe I’m critical, maybe some people do find hope here, but if I’m honest, it’s hard to see where.

I spent my first day wandering the Strip and looking for some new experiences to get a taste of Vegas.  I found a mall my friend said was great.  I walk in, find some nice stores, try on clothes and have lunch.  It’s just like Vancouver, except here you find American stores instead of Canadian.  Granted, I come away with a couple of nice gifts and a dress for myself, but couldn’t I have done this at home?  As I was about to leave, someone came up to me with a free sample of moisturizer.  I’m not really someone to turn down free things, so I took it, thanked the girl and went to walk on my way.  What a sucker.  I was fish hooked in.  “Can I ask you a personal question?”  She said.  “Go ahead”, I’m so gullible.  The conversation centred around my skin and how I keep dry skin at bay.  Truth is, I don’t.  I don’t know the difference between Clinique and something I can buy off the shelf at Shoppers Drug Mart.  Why should I feel like I have to spend $50 instead of $10?  (What a White whine….).  So anyways, this lovely girl tries to sell me some face scrub that costs “only $119”!  I smirk, sure, I’m a student, I can afford that! Not.  So I explain kindly, thanks but no thanks.  Ah, but wait!  There’s a deal especially for me because she thinks I have great style.  Don’t flatter me lady, I know I look sweaty in this 40 degree heat.  A one time offer only! I can have this scrub, with one box free and some other kind of moisturizing scrub that promises some other lie.  Again I explain, I want to leave, no thanks.  But wait again!  Let’s see if she can make me a deal.  She goes to her computer, pretends to look at something important (probably her facebook page) and she comes back.  “Don’t tell anyone, you promise?” she says.  I don’t promise.  “I can give you this all for $49”.  Wow.  In less than five minutes, this price has dropped from $119, to $49.  I thank the girl and walk away.

Do I want to spend $49 on products that I don’t know anything about?  Who are you?  Why would this make my life better?How about I buy it, and send it to the poverty striken women I know in Peru.  Maybe it will make their lives better?  Wake up.

Despite my critical side, I have enjoyed something about Vegas.  I’ve enjoyed time alone, time to reflect, time for myself, time in the sun and by the pool.  I’ve enjoyed seeing my husband in work mode, enjoyed getting to know his colleague a little more and I especially enjoyed exploring the inside of the Bellagio yesterday with all it’s beautiful sculptures, flower gardens and statues.  But is this really somewhere to find hope?

I saw hope on Wednesday evening amidst the men selling prostitutes and club tickets, amidst the burlesque women on show.  It was a lone man sharing the gospel over the microphone and another friend giving out tracts.  There is hope here.  God is here, He is just incredibly hard to find amongst all the promise of wealth and satisfaction.  For some reason, I often have an aversion to street preachers, but this was like finding Lot and his faithful family amongst Sodom and Gomorrah, I just hope that a few passers by got to hear of our Eternal Hope, not the kind of hope and satisfaction that we find here that lasts for but a moment.

Money, gambling, sex and food might fill us for just a second, but as cheesy as it sounds, Jesus really does offer us hope that lasts beyond this life and into the next.

Maybe I’ll blog about that another time.

I’m in a mall, it’s 9.01am.  I’m sitting at Starbucks under a giant Totem Pole and a bright skylight.  The stores have yet to open for the day, it’s quiet.  In fact, it’s quiet enough to hear the conversations of the women sitting opposite me.

My coffee is strong and bitter.  Why do I drink it?  I never really enjoy it.

The women are laughing.  They’re all in their 60’s and each of them sports a short crop “do”.  They’re suitable dressed for the gym in their Lululemon pants and tight workout tanks.  Somehow the combination is juxtaposed and reeks of North Shore women that have a lot of time and money.  They’ve most likely just come from “She’s Fit”- some aerobics course suited for retired women like them.  Am I going to be like that?  Reduced to looking forward to a gym class and a coffee once a week?  I don’t know if I could cope with such a simple life.  It’s possible that they don’t have a simple life and I am looking through a window of their lives that I’ve created out of my imagination.

Stores are starting to prepare for opening.  There’s something strange about the beginning of the day and being around to observe it.  It’s like a second awakening.  First we awake, dress and prepare ourselves, and then we go to awaken our jobs, stores, daily routines.  Store owners pull out signs and arrange their goods, we start up the engines of our day with routines, a walk to school to drop the kids off, sitting at the same traffic lights with the same radio station.  The same struggle through the jam on the highway or the same stop off at the coffee shop.

Mothers walk through the slow-filling mall with kids and strollers.  It’s summer holidays so it’s not a strange occurrence.  This time of year always makes me anxious with their high energy teenagers that possess an inherent ability to never find satisfaction.

A young guy has just sat down in front of me.  He’s somewhat attractive dressed in his business suit.  Cue awkward eye contact.  I’ve never been sure of men’s eye contact.  What are they looking at?  Do I have something wrong with the way I look?  I’m married, and this man doesn’t interest me in the slightest, maybe only what his life is like, or what he is doing that day.  In any case, I probably wouldn’t encourage his advances if I was looking for someone, it’s too risky.  Plus, his shoes are ugly.

My coffee is growing more disgusting with every sip.

Writing outside of my normal environment could be really fun- writing for other courses might not be as interesting as this.  I get way too distracted when it’s in depth, this is more like a running commentary on what is really going on inside my head.

The somewhat-attractive-suited-man now folds his newspaper and gets up.  When I was younger and encountered a new person- be it male or female, I would play games with them if I knew I’d never see them again.  I would talk in an Australian accent, or let them think I was from somewhere other than where I was really from.  The thought of trying that again goes through my head, but lying to someone is not an option really.  I’m supposed to be a good Christian girl, but the desire is still there.

The average age of each passer by is around 40-50.  What do they do with their time?  Why are they at the mall?  How do they feel?  Are they happy?  Have they come here for an escape or are they running errands?  When driving down the motorway at home I would try to imagine the destination of each car that I drove past.  I would “think” myself into their shoes and pretend I knew what their lives were like.

It’s easy being an observer of others.  It’s harder to engage.

My good friend Ryan moves to Calgary this coming weekend, and to be honest, I’m gutted to be saying goodbye to yet another someone I care about.

I’ve known Ryan since I moved to Canada about seven years ago, and along with Ryan came Ross.  Over the last few years we’ve been spending time together as a trio and have found ourselves in deep conversations about church, life, struggles, God, relationships, and all of this has been conducted over good food and good wine or beer.

Both Bas and I have found it hard to enter into people’s lives, mostly because we’re all so busy.  Making friends has been a time consuming effort making us wonder if we take our friendships back home for granted.  We’ve both grown up with most of our good friends back in Holland and the UK, so of course it would be easy to think it would be just as simple to make friends anywhere else in the world.  But now having experienced this, we’re becoming more and more aware that it is not as effortless as it has seemed in the past.

Spending time with Ross and Ryan has been such a great experience.  I have felt most at home with these two friends and brothers because there are no expectations on me as a person.  They love me for who I am, care for me, listen and in turn, they are themselves around me.  It’s not been this way from the beginning mind, but as we’ve grown to know each other as friends, we’ve grown closer as friends.

It is a little strange as a woman to have quite a few male friends that I would describe as “close”.  Of course, Bas is my closest and most beloved friend and husband and I am grateful for his understanding and acceptance of my friendship with these men.  But there is something special about my friendship with Ross and Ryan, and here are a few reasons why.

As I said earlier, there are no expectations.  It’s not like a friendship with anyone else in my life carries behaviour expectations, it just seems more prominent with these two.  If any of us is having a bad day, it doesn’t matter.  Ryan has called me twice during the time that Bas has been away on work and I’m in need of a good friend.  On both those occasions, I nearly didn’t answer the phone.  And on both those occasions, I am glad I did.

We’re honest with each other.  This probably comes close to the previous reason, and is definitely intertwined.  We can be honest about how we feel, we can be honest about our opinions (which sometimes results in a good debate) and we can be honest about how we’re doing in terms of our faith.  It’s a safe environment, especially when discussing the latter.  We’ve all shared honestly about things we’re struggling with, and it’s a relief.

We have a similar sense of humour.  I have a pretty dry sense of humour and often have a hard time finding places where that can be a part of a fun conversation.  With Ross and Ryan, we’re all pretty much on the same page in terms of what we find funny, and again it comes down to the previous two reasons.  We are free to be ourselves with one another.

To me as a woman, men are sometimes a bit foreign.  I don’t understand certain habits, or lack of.  I try to understand how we process emotions differently (which often comes down to personality as well as our gender) and I try to understand just how it is they can eat so much!  I value the male perspective that I get from my friends and my husband on all matters of life etc., and I find it very valuable to have close guy friends in my life.

Why am I writing about this?  Well, I guess Ross and Ryan have set a precedent for friendships in my life and model for me the kind of friend I want to be to others. I attend a church with a transient community.  People come and go regularly so it’s hard to make friends.  I was “the new girl” in a few churches during my time here so far, and I remember how scary it was to enter into new communities.  Possessing qualities like honesty, having few high expectations on others and being comfortable with myself I hope will attribute to good friendships in the future, and welcoming people in the present.

So, Ryan, I will miss you dearly my friend.  You’ve been a companion and a brother these last seven years and I am excited for what the future holds.  I won’t miss eating high calorie foods with you and feeling gross afterwards, but I will miss our great discussions over those meals.

Ross, here’s to the next few months of getting to know each other more!  You need to teach me some beer connoisseur skills…..

No.  I am not writing about what you’re thinking of.  But maybe you’ll want to read on anyways 😉

Since taking this course through Briercrest, I’ve been dreaming a lot about writing, but it’s quite clear that I’ve not been doing much writing.  The truth is I’m quite afraid.  Scratch that.  I’m terrified.  I have a lot of thoughts, I get excited about writing, and before I had a public blog, I would write all these things down and not worry about what people thought of it all.

I’m not really sure about how other bloggers feel, or what other students in this course are experiencing, but I write to sort out my thoughts (Bas calls me “spaghetti brain” because of all the random thoughts I have).  Writing helps me order things.  But it also helps me to put into words some of the things I feel and think.  It’s exposing those feelings that frightens me the most.

I’ve always put a lot of emphasis on what other people think of me, to the point that it drives me almost insane; literally.  For some reason, I’m so driven by other’s opinions that it’s taken me a long time to (try to) break free.  And even in this so called freedom, I still experience those same shackles.  I chew over events of the day especially if I think I’ve done something wrong.  That chewing turns into detailed extrapolation and the guilt sets in.  Once that passes, or deepens (depends on how neurotic I’m feeling) I will try to work out a solution to rid me of this guilt.  Sometimes I think about relieving the other person’s feeling about what happened, but mostly it’s just about making myself feel better.

So, writing.  Do I face my fear and relinquish these tightly bound holds I have on other’s opinion?  Maybe don’t make me answer that question.

What is with God these days?? He makes me face my fears all the freaking time!!  Doesn’t He know how tired I am?  It’s felt like a waterfall since the decision to get my stupid wisdom teeth out. (By the way, I stressed for five years about facing that dreaded event).  After that it was telling someone in authority over me the truth about how I felt.  And then I had to do that over and over again.  Once that was over, I had to take a long haul flight and have yet another one of my classic panic attacks in public (which was so bad the air stewardess had to move me…and my dear husband bought me a stuffed Moose which I held on to for the rest of the 8 hour flight to Lima).  Proceeding that came eating food cooked by others in a foreign country…and having another panic attack.  And then worst of all and most frightening to me was revealing my fears to those around me.  Who would have thought?!  Man, maybe I am just as proud as I always hoped I wouldn’t be.

Well.  Now you know everything.  Despite my lacquered exterior and my eloquent language to make it appear I have it “all together”, you know that I don’t really.

When I worked for North Shore Vineyard my parents divorced.  It was my second year away from home (home is the UK) and my second year with that church.  I had two girls planning to come for a date the evening I had the phone call from Mum and Dad to tell me what was going on back home.  I remember watching a Clint Eastwood movie and being for the first time, myself in a “down” state.  It was pretty ugly.  A few months later I received a card from one of those girls- Esther.  She always had a quirky way of writing things and was particularly obsessed with old english language, so much so she often called me “old bean”.  Anyways.  This card is now in a box of mine where I keep all my letters and cards that mean something to me.  She wrote “I always thought you had it together.  But then I found out you didn’t, and I liked you even more”.

During the last few days of my trip in Peru, where I revealed to the team just how unwound I was (in terms of my emotional/mental stability) I found out that the honesty I showed (which took up so much energy) had actually set a precedence for others on the team.  My tear/snot filled revealings had somehow made others feel comfortable enough to share just what was going on for them too.

So maybe my ramblings on this small blog, read by a small portion of people might inspire you to navel gaze at yourself, or maybe it will alarm you at just how confused I am about life, or maybe it will leave a small smile on your face.

I am dust.  Each molecule of me is a grain of sand,
His hand reaching in to the deep to form my bones.

I am clay, vague and unformed.  The Potters hands take me,
They form me and make me perfectly.

I am dumb, I fear the night,
I fear those bright eyes of my predator
But I know the Voice.  I am not afraid.

I am a living branch,
I draw the energy from the Vine that is rooted deep
Into the foundation of my universe>
I don’t fear those sharp shears. . .

I am not afraid.