At last week's Colombia meeting, S showed us some pictures from the Colombia trip last year. I'm already starting to get excited as the date creeps closer and closer (less than 75 days!), but as she neared the end of her pictures, she brought up something that I hadn't been formerly informed about. She turned to a few pictures of kids playing around in a yard, a big imposing house in the background and then explained... that we're visiting a physically and mentally disabled holding house.
As S was telling
her story of seeing things that white people aren't normally allowed to
see there, my heart tugged and I wanted to change it. Wanted to make all
the boo-boos better. Because, people who have nobody else is a very
real *passion*
of mine. And I'm so excited to see how He's going to grow and make that
passion flourish when I'm surrounded by those in need. I love playing with kids, getting them to laugh, making up games, passing the time marveling at the world with them... but I'm also scared.
Scared that I will crawl back into my old shell, will be
introverted, will not plunk down and feel instantly at home and start
playing with kids. Because... I've always been afraid of getting hurt.
Not physically, but emotionally. Of heartache, of pain, of sorrow, of
tears.
I've had a lot of that in my life. A lot of pulling away, being
uprooted, saying good-bye. Or.. even worse... not being able to say good-bye at all. Of having to leave a country where I grew up and never get to go to my childhood haunts and say good-bye. And I'm scared to bare my heart for all to
latch onto, and then to be ripped away again. But... maybe He's calling me to that. Maybe... just, maybe, He's calling me to let it hurt. To let Him work through a passion and calling strong in my heart. To allowing Him to work through my affections to craft me into a more caring and affectionate person. But it hurts.
And these thoughts brought to mind something that I wrote less than a year ago. Because these struggles will come back time and again, when I'm faced with loving those who I think are unlovable, with those that I don't want to risk having my heart attached to. When I love.
Love (March 20th, 2011)
So often when I look around
there are people
without a sound
longing to be loved.
But when I'm among them
Only casual greetings pass my lips
And when alone I search
and find
that I'm afraid.
Afraid of what might happen
if I let go
Fearful of the repercussions
of letting my heart show
To open my arms
and heart to a world of need
Takes one who is higher than me
I am so used
to saying good-bye
Of tears and uprooted feelings
Through it all,
My heart's gotten wise
And built a wall
Tall and wide
So each day I work
Taking, brick by brick,
Apart this wall of
Shelter my heart has built.
And with new eyes enter
A world that is pleading
to know the One above
So, taking my chances...
I let go of fear
Of reproof, dismissal, disdain,
and open wide a helping heart
Realizing what love's really about
It's not about feelings
although those play a part
It's a choice to let go
Of getting dirty and low...
And allowing the hurt,
The pain and the dirt
Finding that love...
is about holding nothing back.
Friday, November 25
Wednesday, November 23
Wrestling
I pulled it out of my pocket just now, a reminder of you. That small, neatly wrapped piece of chocolate that we fought over last night.
It was lying next to my plate, ready for consumption, and then your hand sneaked over to grab it.
You... with brown hair all mussed up, sparkling blue-grey eyes, a mind that's constantly whirring, and a voracious love for books, Lego, and chess. You... my little brother... my only brother... my Buddy.
You had that smile on your face. You knew that I would react. And react I did. I pounced on you, we wrestled on the floor, scrabbling for a hold on each other.
After a few minutes, it was still going on. And it wasn't about the candy anymore.
No... it was about you. You... the one that is growing, that is already up to my nose, who is only 10 years old and is destined to be a giant when older. You.. the one that I won't be able to pin to the ground much longer.
It was because of you that I wrestled. I don't have much time left with you. To see your smile, your mischieveous glances, that face so full of dramatic effect that's bound to elicit a fond smile. I'm gone next year. If not gone from the house, gone from the familiar routine. It won't ever be this way again.
And I'm beginning to be okay with that. But I want to treasure every moment. That's why the chocolate, just pulled out of my pocket, sits on my desk... and reminds me of you.
You... who wakes up early in the morning to spend time reading books way beyond your grade level. You... who fight and battle with those 7,8, and 9 times tables. You... of the lashing temper, the words that sting, and the voluntary hugs every morning that make up for everything.
You.. with the heart that is already seeking Him. You... who are destined to become an engineer or something else of great magnitude as exhibited by your skill with Lego. You... with your electronically controlled helicoptors, your love for soccer, your passion for life.
You... whom I held in my arms for the first time, what seems not that long ago.
It was lying next to my plate, ready for consumption, and then your hand sneaked over to grab it.
You... with brown hair all mussed up, sparkling blue-grey eyes, a mind that's constantly whirring, and a voracious love for books, Lego, and chess. You... my little brother... my only brother... my Buddy.
You had that smile on your face. You knew that I would react. And react I did. I pounced on you, we wrestled on the floor, scrabbling for a hold on each other.
After a few minutes, it was still going on. And it wasn't about the candy anymore.
No... it was about you. You... the one that is growing, that is already up to my nose, who is only 10 years old and is destined to be a giant when older. You.. the one that I won't be able to pin to the ground much longer.
It was because of you that I wrestled. I don't have much time left with you. To see your smile, your mischieveous glances, that face so full of dramatic effect that's bound to elicit a fond smile. I'm gone next year. If not gone from the house, gone from the familiar routine. It won't ever be this way again.
And I'm beginning to be okay with that. But I want to treasure every moment. That's why the chocolate, just pulled out of my pocket, sits on my desk... and reminds me of you.
You... who wakes up early in the morning to spend time reading books way beyond your grade level. You... who fight and battle with those 7,8, and 9 times tables. You... of the lashing temper, the words that sting, and the voluntary hugs every morning that make up for everything.
You.. with the heart that is already seeking Him. You... who are destined to become an engineer or something else of great magnitude as exhibited by your skill with Lego. You... with your electronically controlled helicoptors, your love for soccer, your passion for life.
You... whom I held in my arms for the first time, what seems not that long ago.
I hope you realize how much I love you. And how that love leaves me wrestling with how to show you in how I respond when you are angry, when you are bright, when you are sad, when you are you.
I love you.
Love
I sat there on the bed, curled up in my blankets, yawning at the dark sky outside. The bright red book in front of me beckoned me to open up my mind, to see beyond, to grasp. My mind was fuzzy. I read, skimmed, acknowledged, but didn't hold on.
Until I reached that one sentence.
I'd read this book before. Was enthralled with the dreams that my mind created once shown the vision of what He could do through me, if only I would purpose to "Do Hard Things."
But, apart from the message that the book was giving, this one sentence grabbed hold and did not let go.
"He will never-- could never-- love you any more than He does right now."
Read it again... I sure did.
And my thoughts ran something like this: Never? That's not an easy word to toss around. As in... He loved me this much when He formed the sun, guided Abraham, called David a man after His own heart, and died? He loves me exactly the same as He did when hung on that cross? Was beaten, ripped apart, mocked, died, and then came back to life?
Think about it.
This truth has trouble finding a resting place in my heart. I am the kind of person who would rather do something so that I can be saved, rather than resting in the promise that He has done everything.
But, then again, when I fail and fall, it's such a relief to know that He loves me no matter what. Is this a license to sin? Nope... it's a licence for gratefulness.
And as I set the book down and thought about my attitudes, actions, thoughts, and everything else from the day before, I found myself so glad to claim this promise. He doesn't love me because of my actions, where in the world I was born, who my connections are. He loves me because I'm me. And that's hard to grab ahold of... but I'm so glad that I can.
I ate breakfast, opened up the windows, and saw this sunrise. He didn't have to.... But He wanted to. Because that's who He is...
Love.
Until I reached that one sentence.
I'd read this book before. Was enthralled with the dreams that my mind created once shown the vision of what He could do through me, if only I would purpose to "Do Hard Things."
But, apart from the message that the book was giving, this one sentence grabbed hold and did not let go.
"He will never-- could never-- love you any more than He does right now."
Read it again... I sure did.
And my thoughts ran something like this: Never? That's not an easy word to toss around. As in... He loved me this much when He formed the sun, guided Abraham, called David a man after His own heart, and died? He loves me exactly the same as He did when hung on that cross? Was beaten, ripped apart, mocked, died, and then came back to life?
Think about it.
This truth has trouble finding a resting place in my heart. I am the kind of person who would rather do something so that I can be saved, rather than resting in the promise that He has done everything.
But, then again, when I fail and fall, it's such a relief to know that He loves me no matter what. Is this a license to sin? Nope... it's a licence for gratefulness.
And as I set the book down and thought about my attitudes, actions, thoughts, and everything else from the day before, I found myself so glad to claim this promise. He doesn't love me because of my actions, where in the world I was born, who my connections are. He loves me because I'm me. And that's hard to grab ahold of... but I'm so glad that I can.
I ate breakfast, opened up the windows, and saw this sunrise. He didn't have to.... But He wanted to. Because that's who He is...
Love.
Sunday, November 20
Arrogance
What? Did I just write that as the title? Me... arrogant? Pshaw... never!
But I am just that. My heart is full of the dark desires that cause me to act in ways to draw others to me. To me. To ME. To what I can do, what I can accomplish, what I can provide, to what I can give. To... oh, how horrible... how much of a "Christian" I am.
There was a Bible Quizzing Tournament this past weekend. We travelled for hours, tires spinning against white roads. We arrived, and I fell into that most-comfortable-of-all embrace of fellow believers. Others who, like me, had spent multiple hours memorizing verses, or even chapters. Learning questions, key words, and where they could jump and answer the questions without a doubt.
Now, I don't prepare for Quizzing as much as I would like to. When I'm excited about it, it becomes something that I latch onto and make into a huge undertaking. But, when life seems like a more exciting alternative, it hangs over my week like a dark shadow, reminding me that I better get those verses memorized, that chapter read, those questions filled in, those chapters reviewed, those verses gone over, etc. It could become all-consuming if I let it.
And this being my last year... Even now, it's hard to say that. I've been in the wonderful program for five years... FIVE years. Years of memorizing verses, going to tournaments, meeting new friends, becoming versed in the rules of a sport that many people never know about, learning how to jump on either clicky-seats or pads, accumulating bookies and workbooks, gathering a ribbon here and there. And all for what?
I wish that I could say that the biggest effect was on my spiritual life. But it hasn't been. Up until now. Sure, it's helped me be able to memorize like a whiz, and take Bio because, hey, why not? since memorizing is so easy and all. I've never realized how arrogant I was about being involved in this sport, about my abilities.
"I'm participating in a Bible Quizzing Tournament this weekend. What are you doing? Sleeping in?"
It's one of those things that you do at first because you know that you should, or your friends are involved, or just maybe because you are a MK and everyone already expects you to do something so strange and out of the ordinary that it would be in keeping with your "unique" ness and would be an involvement in something becuase you have no sporty skills.
Plus, this being my last year, it's the last year I have to excel. To make a name for myself. To go to Great West (top 25 quizzers from Alberta go). To show that I have worth.
And that's what it comes down to, isn't it? I don't feel like I have enough worth in other things. In... Him.
I don't realize how preciously He has made me to do everything that I can do. I don't fully grasp the importance of the VERY WORD OF GOD that I am memorizing. The nuggets of truth that I'm tucking away. The lasting friendships that I could make if I stopped making my focus on how well I do, but turn that focus on to meeting and getting to know others.
And it brings me to the question: how can I do well without being arrogant? How can I excel and bring Him every single shred of glory?
I've been given such a unique opportunity, and it's sad to me now, to look back on years past and to realize all that I have failed to do in this area. I could've done so much.
And yet... I use the word "I." That word that pervades my actions, thoughts, and words. Instead of "Him."
He could've done so much. And now with realizing this, I also realize... He can still do much. Through my arrogance, through my weakness, through my failings, through my sinful human nature, He is strong.
As I write these things, these verses that I have stored away in the past few weeks jump out at me. Words that I have spoken time and time again, but never taken to heart, sadly enough.
"Young men, in the same way, be submissive to those who are older. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because 'God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.' Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time." (1 Peter 5:5+6, NIV)
And as I struggle to bring these words to fruition in my life, I'm ever so grateful for another verse.
"The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." (2 Peter 3:9, NIV)
But I am just that. My heart is full of the dark desires that cause me to act in ways to draw others to me. To me. To ME. To what I can do, what I can accomplish, what I can provide, to what I can give. To... oh, how horrible... how much of a "Christian" I am.
There was a Bible Quizzing Tournament this past weekend. We travelled for hours, tires spinning against white roads. We arrived, and I fell into that most-comfortable-of-all embrace of fellow believers. Others who, like me, had spent multiple hours memorizing verses, or even chapters. Learning questions, key words, and where they could jump and answer the questions without a doubt.
Now, I don't prepare for Quizzing as much as I would like to. When I'm excited about it, it becomes something that I latch onto and make into a huge undertaking. But, when life seems like a more exciting alternative, it hangs over my week like a dark shadow, reminding me that I better get those verses memorized, that chapter read, those questions filled in, those chapters reviewed, those verses gone over, etc. It could become all-consuming if I let it.
And this being my last year... Even now, it's hard to say that. I've been in the wonderful program for five years... FIVE years. Years of memorizing verses, going to tournaments, meeting new friends, becoming versed in the rules of a sport that many people never know about, learning how to jump on either clicky-seats or pads, accumulating bookies and workbooks, gathering a ribbon here and there. And all for what?
I wish that I could say that the biggest effect was on my spiritual life. But it hasn't been. Up until now. Sure, it's helped me be able to memorize like a whiz, and take Bio because, hey, why not? since memorizing is so easy and all. I've never realized how arrogant I was about being involved in this sport, about my abilities.
"I'm participating in a Bible Quizzing Tournament this weekend. What are you doing? Sleeping in?"
It's one of those things that you do at first because you know that you should, or your friends are involved, or just maybe because you are a MK and everyone already expects you to do something so strange and out of the ordinary that it would be in keeping with your "unique" ness and would be an involvement in something becuase you have no sporty skills.
Plus, this being my last year, it's the last year I have to excel. To make a name for myself. To go to Great West (top 25 quizzers from Alberta go). To show that I have worth.
And that's what it comes down to, isn't it? I don't feel like I have enough worth in other things. In... Him.
I don't realize how preciously He has made me to do everything that I can do. I don't fully grasp the importance of the VERY WORD OF GOD that I am memorizing. The nuggets of truth that I'm tucking away. The lasting friendships that I could make if I stopped making my focus on how well I do, but turn that focus on to meeting and getting to know others.
And it brings me to the question: how can I do well without being arrogant? How can I excel and bring Him every single shred of glory?
I've been given such a unique opportunity, and it's sad to me now, to look back on years past and to realize all that I have failed to do in this area. I could've done so much.
And yet... I use the word "I." That word that pervades my actions, thoughts, and words. Instead of "Him."
He could've done so much. And now with realizing this, I also realize... He can still do much. Through my arrogance, through my weakness, through my failings, through my sinful human nature, He is strong.
As I write these things, these verses that I have stored away in the past few weeks jump out at me. Words that I have spoken time and time again, but never taken to heart, sadly enough.
"Young men, in the same way, be submissive to those who are older. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because 'God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.' Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time." (1 Peter 5:5+6, NIV)
And as I struggle to bring these words to fruition in my life, I'm ever so grateful for another verse.
"The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." (2 Peter 3:9, NIV)
Crazy Peace
Oxymoronish, is it not?
These days I find myself scrambling, strings left hanging, the tapestry of my life unraveling, knots appearing here and there, other places still left intact, but threatening to start disintegrating.
I didn't think that Grade 12 would be that much of a jump. And it hasn't been. The only thing is, I was only looking at it from the academic perspective, and not from the relational or extracurricular point of view.
As I started off this year, I struggled with being *ready* to face everything that would come. Because this summer, my perspective shifted. The conscious effort required to do crazy and silly things with friends is well worth the consequences of slightly dropping marks (still trying to get that through to my over-competetive brain of mine). As I've pursued filling up hours that could be spent with doing extra homework with friends instead, I still stress. I still worry that the tapestry that I've woven up until now will come crashing down.
That the image that I've portrayed of little Ms. Perfect will fade and people will really see my inadequacies and failures. Yet, that's what I've committed to doing... to *finding myself*.
And as I take steps to put myself out there, open up my heart to wounds, listen to other's grievances, make mistakes, fail to get marks that make me feel utterly pleased, I feel peaceful.
My world is shifting, spinning, whirling on a new axis, and it's taking some time to readjust. But in experiencing the crazy, He brings peace. He knows what it feels like to have everything stripped away, He knows the end results.
And He holds my hand, giving me peace, as I cause the craziness in my life. Crazy stuff, this peace.
These days I find myself scrambling, strings left hanging, the tapestry of my life unraveling, knots appearing here and there, other places still left intact, but threatening to start disintegrating.
I didn't think that Grade 12 would be that much of a jump. And it hasn't been. The only thing is, I was only looking at it from the academic perspective, and not from the relational or extracurricular point of view.
As I started off this year, I struggled with being *ready* to face everything that would come. Because this summer, my perspective shifted. The conscious effort required to do crazy and silly things with friends is well worth the consequences of slightly dropping marks (still trying to get that through to my over-competetive brain of mine). As I've pursued filling up hours that could be spent with doing extra homework with friends instead, I still stress. I still worry that the tapestry that I've woven up until now will come crashing down.
That the image that I've portrayed of little Ms. Perfect will fade and people will really see my inadequacies and failures. Yet, that's what I've committed to doing... to *finding myself*.
And as I take steps to put myself out there, open up my heart to wounds, listen to other's grievances, make mistakes, fail to get marks that make me feel utterly pleased, I feel peaceful.
My world is shifting, spinning, whirling on a new axis, and it's taking some time to readjust. But in experiencing the crazy, He brings peace. He knows what it feels like to have everything stripped away, He knows the end results.
And He holds my hand, giving me peace, as I cause the craziness in my life. Crazy stuff, this peace.
Sunday, November 13
Serving
I came home that day, longing for peace and quiet. To go to bed early on this first night of a long weekend. To prepare for a strenuous, time consuming life to be played out through the next three days. I open the door, and find three giggly girls set up in the livingroom. I groan to myself.
Then I look closer, and see them in sparkly dress, with stations set out in little girl fashion. One for hair, one for nails, and one for "makeup." They pull on our hands, my Boo and her friends, me, J, and our friend.
She pulls out that little girl voice that bugs me so much. "Chwisty.." Goodness gracious, I'm thinking to myself, you're eight years old... a lisp is anything but cute at your age.
But then I had to pause. As I took in the scene, it made me travel back many years ago, to when I held such parties. I never had an older sister. I always wanted one. Still want one. I've always wanted someone who's gone through the exact same things that I have gone, can give me advice, can make me feel pretty, can encourage me, who can spend time with me.
And it hurts to turn that expectation and see it from her eyes. The Boo that looks up to me. The one with golden hair and blue eyes. The one that is obsessed with the cat. The one who longs to be a princess and look pretty all the time. The one whom I don't spend enough time with on her own level.
And so I took off my coat... and delved into Little Girl Land one more time.
Then I look closer, and see them in sparkly dress, with stations set out in little girl fashion. One for hair, one for nails, and one for "makeup." They pull on our hands, my Boo and her friends, me, J, and our friend.
She pulls out that little girl voice that bugs me so much. "Chwisty.." Goodness gracious, I'm thinking to myself, you're eight years old... a lisp is anything but cute at your age.
But then I had to pause. As I took in the scene, it made me travel back many years ago, to when I held such parties. I never had an older sister. I always wanted one. Still want one. I've always wanted someone who's gone through the exact same things that I have gone, can give me advice, can make me feel pretty, can encourage me, who can spend time with me.
And it hurts to turn that expectation and see it from her eyes. The Boo that looks up to me. The one with golden hair and blue eyes. The one that is obsessed with the cat. The one who longs to be a princess and look pretty all the time. The one whom I don't spend enough time with on her own level.
And so I took off my coat... and delved into Little Girl Land one more time.
The Hair
 | |||
| My Boo... |
 |
| She has some of the most beautiful hair I have ever seen... |
 |
| She was so patient... |
The Details
 |
And then they did something totally unexpected (in the moment)... they wanted to do my hair.
I'm being taught daily, these days, about how much different thing really mean. Serving... It's a tough thing. It doesn't only require doing when you're feeling adequately rested and prepared. No... It calls when you are broken and tired, drained and grumpy, in the most un-servant like attitude. Serving is only serving if it hurts, if it digs, if it takes up time, if you give. But as I serve... something happens. The joy in their faces transfers to mine, and I get caught up in the frilly whirlwind of yesteryears as they pick a dress for me to put on and call me to their world.
Because it was mine not so long ago. And as I look back on those years, it's amazing how fast they flew past. And soon she will be grown, too, my little Boo. The one who looks so much like me, and yet is so very different in personality. These years... they are to be cherished, not rushed. Dragged down and held, sprinkled with memory glitter and treasured. I'm learning to serve... and dance with Cinderella.
Because it was mine not so long ago. And as I look back on those years, it's amazing how fast they flew past. And soon she will be grown, too, my little Boo. The one who looks so much like me, and yet is so very different in personality. These years... they are to be cherished, not rushed. Dragged down and held, sprinkled with memory glitter and treasured. I'm learning to serve... and dance with Cinderella.
Catching Up
With a little bit of time on my hands, I've had time to update the Colombia tab up above. Take a peek! Well, actually, you should read all of it! I'll hopefully be pumping out a few more blog posts today, but we'll see...
Sunday, November 6
A Weekend in Pictures
Starting a new form of communication and hoping that a point and shoot camera combined with picnik will do the trick. Enjoy!
FRIDAY
FRIDAY
 | |||
| Rolo icecream and chocolate sauce shared with a dear friend |
SATURDAY
 | |||||
| Right across the street |
 | |||
| Patterns in the snow |
 | |||
| In my yard |
 | |||
| Lovin' the contrast... |
 | |||
| Work (hers are the brown gloves, mine are the blue) |
 | |||
| The bike that makes transport possible {oh, I love the stares and looks that we get!} |
 | |||
| More patterns... (a ladder) |
 | ||||
| Eating homemade pumpkin pie (made by J) while doing homework |
 | |||
| Roasted pumpkin seeds... so good! |
SUNDAY
 | |||
| Making crepes with the little bro |
 | |||
| Didn't turn out perfect, but still tasted great... |
 |
| LOVELY lasagna.... makes me so happy! |
 | ||
| Skyping with R (friend who I grew up with in Cameroon) |
Have a great weekend!
Stretch
I've been stretched a lot recently, in many varying ways. I feel like a ball of tortilla dough being rolled to different corners in the hope that I will eventually round out.
Thursday was nerve-racking. Mix together one unprepared Band and choir, a flute that stopped functioning, a band director who was always forgetting to get me another one, having a Colombia meeting that morning and therefore feeling a little scrambled, and walaah... you have my Thursday.
Thankfully, a new flute arrived in time for me to put it together, play a few scales and perform. Yikes. There were also mistakes and glitches in performances, a crowd that giggled at the bumps and people who were new to each program.
But it happened, and getting used to having a new Band and Choir director is easier every day.
Then, English class. Mix together Hamlet, me and my friend M, a group assignment, and her choice of the operatic duet (picture: "Please?? Christy, please!!!" "Fine...."), minor preparation, a CD that was burned with the theme song to the Phantom of the Opera only minutes prior to class, dressing up, and not being able to hear the music and therefore turning it into a gong show. Yes.
Next, this last Saturday. Now, I love my job, don't get me wrong. But expecting to work five hours (the most I had every worked in one stretch with her - normally it's around 3), and then getting it changed to around eight hours? A lot of learning. Huge learning curves, having to work through frustrations with sign languages, having a messed up nap time and bed time (my own fault) and having to detail all the mistakes I had made at the end to her parents (so they would know what was going on... she still wasn't asleep).
Humbling... all of it.
I like my plans, my agenda, my spic and span life, and the way that I think things should go. Perfectly rational, I tell myself. Until He shows up. Ohh.... that sometimes brings me to a screeching halt.
He doesn't want me to be comfortable. Never. Ever.
And I constantly fight that. At every corner, He's dragging me, fighting tooth and nail to stay where I am. But He loves me too much to let me stay where I am. I'm thankful. It hurts. I learn. I grow.
And as soon as I think it's getting easier, He throws something else on my plate. Loverly...
But I wouldn't want it any other way.
Thursday was nerve-racking. Mix together one unprepared Band and choir, a flute that stopped functioning, a band director who was always forgetting to get me another one, having a Colombia meeting that morning and therefore feeling a little scrambled, and walaah... you have my Thursday.
Thankfully, a new flute arrived in time for me to put it together, play a few scales and perform. Yikes. There were also mistakes and glitches in performances, a crowd that giggled at the bumps and people who were new to each program.
But it happened, and getting used to having a new Band and Choir director is easier every day.
Then, English class. Mix together Hamlet, me and my friend M, a group assignment, and her choice of the operatic duet (picture: "Please?? Christy, please!!!" "Fine...."), minor preparation, a CD that was burned with the theme song to the Phantom of the Opera only minutes prior to class, dressing up, and not being able to hear the music and therefore turning it into a gong show. Yes.
Next, this last Saturday. Now, I love my job, don't get me wrong. But expecting to work five hours (the most I had every worked in one stretch with her - normally it's around 3), and then getting it changed to around eight hours? A lot of learning. Huge learning curves, having to work through frustrations with sign languages, having a messed up nap time and bed time (my own fault) and having to detail all the mistakes I had made at the end to her parents (so they would know what was going on... she still wasn't asleep).
Humbling... all of it.
I like my plans, my agenda, my spic and span life, and the way that I think things should go. Perfectly rational, I tell myself. Until He shows up. Ohh.... that sometimes brings me to a screeching halt.
He doesn't want me to be comfortable. Never. Ever.
And I constantly fight that. At every corner, He's dragging me, fighting tooth and nail to stay where I am. But He loves me too much to let me stay where I am. I'm thankful. It hurts. I learn. I grow.
And as soon as I think it's getting easier, He throws something else on my plate. Loverly...
But I wouldn't want it any other way.
Friday, November 4
Magical
Rewind six years. Picture a little ten-year old Christy running around, twirling in the front yard under the sprinkling snow. It had been four years since I had last seen this white, chilling stuff known as snow flakes. Mysterious little flakes that landed and then disappeared, but at other times piled up to become huge snow banks.
Christmas in Cameroon is so different than here. I grew up singing Jingle Bells in 30 degree weather, for goodness sake. It's still celebrated, but in a completely different fashion. The missionary families were the only ones with Christmas trees up and gifts under them.
Shopping for those gifts was half the excitement of the season. Piling into the Land Cruiser, we would travel to the nearest town (about 40-ish minutes away in dry season) and arrive at the outdoor market. As soon as you arrive, your ears are full of vendors' cries, the smell of frying food, the bright colors of plastics and people moving everywhere.
You squeeze among the congested pathways inbetween vendors selling everything from underwear to luggage. The tricky thing is to switch off parents at the right time, so nobody completely knows what you're buying. Plus, then you don't get ripped off because you're white.
But my best memories of Christmas was dancing madly to the Nutcracker and making up my own ballerina moves. I thought that I was so unbelievably cool.
Now, zoom back to present. I've lived here three years. If I was interview myself for each of those three years:
First year: "Magical! I mean, snow... what a concept! It really isn't coconut shavings after all!"
Second year: "Sweet... I get to wear a coat to school and walk/beg a ride (please read the sarcasm into this). It'll only last a whole six months of the year. Maybe I'll get to do a Winter Olympics Theme for my birthday (which is in March), like I did in Grade six!"
Third/this year: "Are you SERIOUS!?! Okay, snowflakes are cool and all... but really??? Flip-flops, runners, you are now condemned into the shed. Fuzzy sweaters and boots, your time has come..."
Once again, the old adage "Familiarity breeds contempt" comes into play. Even though I've only lived here for three years, the snow is starting to grate on my nerves.
I'm learning to take a step back and to realize how amazing it really is. I mean, seriously? Snow! What a cool concept, God!
This Christmas, I want my amazement and credulity to be not only at the snow and the changes in nature all around, but also to what the season focuses on.... Him. Now, that is truly magical.
Tuesday, November 1
Passion
It's been growing gradually. Taking over my heart. Moment by moment, smile by smile, incident by incident. It's only now, as I read a *blog post* that challenged my very core, that I was faced with something breathtaking. I have been given a passion.
I have always cared for others. I love to work in the background, surprising others by anticipating their needs and fulfilling them. But now a new kind of care has been placed on my heart. One that has snuck up on me, and yet is not a huge surprise.
A passion for the helpless.
They're all around.
Everywhere you look.
Helpless in different ways, but helpless none the less. I've gravitated to a certain brand, however. Those sometimes completely misunderstood because of their differences. Disabilities.
I say it again... disabilities.
I raked leaves at her house today, and it wasn't very long before she was knocking on the window, wanting to see me. She had seen my bike, it was revealed. Her arms opened wide, and she hugged. Oh, does she ever hug. She's the perfect height for it, too. She nestles right in and we just stand there, my head upon hers and my heart feeling oh, so happy.
Why? Because of a passion.
A passion to see the inside, that spark in her eyes, to dig it out and to hold it up proudly to everyone around. A passion to help others see what I see.
I read her *blog post*, having already heard it once. But this time it dug down deeper. Now having worked with someone that requires digging out and refining, I can only appreciate this program so much more. PLEASE read her post, because she puts it so much more eloquently than I could ever say. I will be contributing, if that's the least that I can do.
I logged onto FB, and the very first thing that met my eyes was the encouraging news that one of my classmate's younger sibling's adoption was coming along swiftly. I smiled and replied enthusiastically. But it wasn't just because one more kid was to be given a home to grow up and feel safe in.
It was because he has Down Syndrome. I can just imagine the love and safety that that family holds for one such as him, and I just want to wrap my arms around him, to watch him grow, to see him triumph, to see him LIVE.
A passion.
It scares me. To the VERY CORE. What might a passion do to me? I had it all planned out, little as the planning was. I was going to be normal, follow safe routines, not drop any surprises.
But this? This opens up a door to so much more. Where might this lead me?
I'm almost scared that He's answering my question of "What do you want me to do?" Scared and yet terrifically excited.
I have always cared for others. I love to work in the background, surprising others by anticipating their needs and fulfilling them. But now a new kind of care has been placed on my heart. One that has snuck up on me, and yet is not a huge surprise.
A passion for the helpless.
They're all around.
Everywhere you look.
Helpless in different ways, but helpless none the less. I've gravitated to a certain brand, however. Those sometimes completely misunderstood because of their differences. Disabilities.
I say it again... disabilities.
I raked leaves at her house today, and it wasn't very long before she was knocking on the window, wanting to see me. She had seen my bike, it was revealed. Her arms opened wide, and she hugged. Oh, does she ever hug. She's the perfect height for it, too. She nestles right in and we just stand there, my head upon hers and my heart feeling oh, so happy.
Why? Because of a passion.
A passion to see the inside, that spark in her eyes, to dig it out and to hold it up proudly to everyone around. A passion to help others see what I see.
I read her *blog post*, having already heard it once. But this time it dug down deeper. Now having worked with someone that requires digging out and refining, I can only appreciate this program so much more. PLEASE read her post, because she puts it so much more eloquently than I could ever say. I will be contributing, if that's the least that I can do.
I logged onto FB, and the very first thing that met my eyes was the encouraging news that one of my classmate's younger sibling's adoption was coming along swiftly. I smiled and replied enthusiastically. But it wasn't just because one more kid was to be given a home to grow up and feel safe in.
It was because he has Down Syndrome. I can just imagine the love and safety that that family holds for one such as him, and I just want to wrap my arms around him, to watch him grow, to see him triumph, to see him LIVE.
A passion.
It scares me. To the VERY CORE. What might a passion do to me? I had it all planned out, little as the planning was. I was going to be normal, follow safe routines, not drop any surprises.
But this? This opens up a door to so much more. Where might this lead me?
I'm almost scared that He's answering my question of "What do you want me to do?" Scared and yet terrifically excited.
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