In One of *Those* Days

Today was great.... and not so great.

I went bike riding, at times riding no-handed with my hands outstretched and with my eyes closed and with a silly grin on my face. It was a beautiful day, all sunshine, no clouds, but a decent wind so that I wasn't roasting. After riding our route, my best friend and I went and got slushies, talked and ended up playing Wii.

Then I headed to a cookout attended by some families we knew and some that were new. I ate my food, taking a decent amount of time, but then I excused myself and headed home to solitude.

Sweet, sweet, heavenly solitude.

And it's not like there was a ton of people around today, it's just that every once in awhile, I fall into one of *those* days. A day where I am in a funk, and if I tried hard enough, I could pull myself out of it, but it's so comfortable that I don't even try.

I get prickly, unsociable, and I tend to notice little things more and take them more deeply. I escape into solitude and take offense when people barge in on me. I devour whole books in one sitting and just. sit. still.

Maybe it's not even that. I don't get cranky, per se, it's more like I retreat within myself.

I satisfied my melancholy this morning by heading to the library for the first time in months. When I walk into a library, I like it to be still. Completely still. And I walk in between the rows, running my fingers along the bindings of the books, making as little sound as possible, almost as if I could hear the whisps of love, adventure, information, etc. that drift from each book as I touch it.

If one grabs my attention, I slowly pull it out, scan the back, flip through a couple pages, take a moment to decide what kind of book I'm in the mood for. Entertaining? Contemplative? Fluffy? Deep? Then, I put it back or take it with me.

The slow whish of the air conditioners working in the library keep my company as I make my lonely way through the library aisles.

Even if you don't know me well, maybe that showcases what one of *those* days looks like for me.

I find my alter-ego, or rather, the one that's hidden deep inside that I keep on a very short leash {my true *Eeyore* coming out maybe?}, coming out and proclaiming, "Give me a day. A day in a month. A day to make you relax, to think deeper, to simply breathe in and out. To be something other than happy and joyful at all times."

And I don't know where that crosses into self-pity or something near it, but it's easy when it's one of *those* days to get caught up in myself.

Instead of caught up in Him.

Although He created all parts of me, my sinful human being still exists and it takes advantage of *those* days. It makes feel as if the world has no business interfering in my solitude and that others have ulterior motives in what they say and do, it makes me feel as if my need to be alone supersedes other's needs, that I'm the most important person. A spirit of want replaces a spirit of thankfulness.

But it's also in moments like this that I realize how life is not perfect. There are holes, there are moments that aren't so happy, there are times when we wonder what's going on.

Moments that make me SO happy that this life is not all.

Sometimes I get so caught up in the those rustling-leaves-and-perfect-wind-and-closed-eyes-and-ruffled-hair-and-hands-outstretched moments, that I think that this life is pretty amazing.

And it is.

But how much more amazing will my true home be?

Beyond anything that I can express, that's for sure.

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.

Hills

My shadowy feet move in circles. One.. two... one... two... I look up ahead of me, squinting as the sun hits my eyes. Halfway is behind me... I'm on my way home. The steady swish of bicycle tires against pavement sounds in my ears. The crickets start their song and the brown-eyed Susans nod to me from their roadside homes.

I look up ahead and groan as I see them. Four stair-cased hills, each one higher than the last. My leg muscles burn, my breath is not as deep as it was when I started out and now I face what seem to me to be mountains.

I bike over the smooth, straight road, dreading the hills up above. As I come closer, they loom even bigger and I start to pedal harder. Steadily, smoothly, watching the shadows underneath my bike tire move... keeping that white line at the side of my vision, like a living, moving, white snake that is racing along with me.

Keep your eyes on your feet,I say to myself, wondering how one hill can cause so much pain. I shift down a few gears and can't help glancing up. Ugh! I'm not even close! I bend my head down and concentrate on my feet, hoping that if I don't look, I can convince my legs that they're zooming across a level, flat plain of road with no hill in sight. It works for a little while, until I have to shift down another gear.

Looking up again, the top seems closer, and yet I steadily pedal on, just wanting it to be over... but also knowing that beyond this hill, there is another... and another...and another.

Somehow, I crest all four hills. The sign that signals 4.5 kilometers comes into sight, and there is flat road again. I try and maintain a steady pace while glancing at the watch that is timing my efforts, wanting to beat my time. There is only one hill before me, and I laugh inside of myself as I approach it, remembering how it used to daunt me.

I rise over the top and see the water tower ahead of me. Now, to most of you, our little town isn't much, but at those moments, it's like the Celestial City itself.

As I finished up my race with myself and calmed my breathing, and put away my bike, it struck me. While I was looking at my feet, the hills didn't seem so big... in fact, if I never looked up, I wouldn't have known how big they were. Isn't that the same with Him?

I see big hills ahead. It's Grade 12, everyone's asking the dreaded question, "So... what do you want to do after you graduate?" Smaller bumps are in between.. academics, a job, the Colombia trip.

Somewhere, from someone, sometime... I have no clue, I heard a new perspective on Psalm 119:105.

"Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path." (NIV)

It says that His Word is a lamp. What is a lamp? A small light. What does it show? Just my feet. JUST my feet. Nothing else. He doesn't illuminate the whole path. He doesn't highlight the hills. He shows me JUST enough for right now. JUST enough for the next step.


As I run this race... keeping it steady and strong, focusing on my feet is hard. Because I like to worry, honestly. I like to complain to Him about how big my hills are and how little others' look in comparison. His response is: "Look at your feet. I can take care of the hills. Look at your feet."


Someday, I'll crest into the Celestial City (the real one this time), and there will be no more hills. There will be no more race. I will slow down, I will stop, I will surrender my earthly "bike."


But for right now... I look at my feet.

Struggling

I have so many doubts... so many fears. I wish I lived in a bubble sometimes, not having to care about anything but what to do next. But what is life but the adventure of living, surviving, getting through? With only a few weeks left until school starts, I'm struggling with how He provides. I knew that He wanted to me go to Colombia.. but now? It seems like money is trickling in. Where's the line between trusting and trying? For putting myself out there?

And yet, another struggle. One that will last just as long. How important is He to me? How much do I value His holiness? A few friends asked me the other day to participate in an event with them, and I was surprised, but very happy. And then comes the news... it takes place on a Sunday. Questions immediately fill my mind. Why is the Sabbath holy anyway? What is it about it that I shouldn't do a race on it? Talking to my parents, getting their views.. it's all so confusing but something that I need to determine for myself. What is my stance on Sundays? As a family, we try to not go out to places to eat, and instead stay home and rest, maybe do some family things. As kids, we're not "allowed" to do homework. It's not a law, but something that we try and do to honor Him and to give ourselves a rest.

But what about me? Personally? It's so much easier when it's someone else holding a law or line above your head instead of yourself. Because then you start to wiggle, question, try to squirm around it, put it off until next time, so that eventually, it's not effective at all anymore. This issue about Sunday and what my views about how I personally am going to respect it .... is causing me to struggle. Because I want to be with my friends sooo badly. And yet I recognize that He may want something different from me. Would I be willing to give up spending time with my friends if it means keeping the Sabbath holy? How important is He to me?

As I start to do a topical study on it, just with the small concordance my Bible has in the back, certain words are brought up again and again. Holy... honor... rest... Where do they all come together? Ultimately, it's a fight between me doing what I want, or the possibility of Him asking me to do what I don't want. This is what it means to follow Him: laying down myself, knowing that He is better.

And yet, to find peace in whatever decision that He brings. To stand firm and to not sway. To find the line between "if I do this... but, this..." and working something out. I sit here, struggling... knowing that He knows.

Counting

1) The endearing little boy that I get to work with. Him, with the big brown eyes, and little, cool hands that slip into mine. Who asks me to carry his Batman lunch kit, and tell him how to spell everything hockey. Who knows that there is more than one kind of race car. I always seem to fall for the little guys...

2) The aggravating, confusing boy that I get to work with. Him... my personal grace grower for the week. Who hides inside his anger and likes to be outside all alone. I struggled to understand, and finally just lowered myself to the ground and suggested we build a city out of the dirt he was playing in. Soon, that city evolved into an ocean, and he was narrating to me his own version of Jaws. That he would ask to hold my hand on the way to the park, that he would ask for me to come out and watch him, that he would be touched... is the greatest blessing of all.

3) Campfires and bannock with friends. To be taught and to learn. To listen and to laugh. To accept and to comfort. To realize that even though I may go far, that these will hold me close and love me truly for me.

4) Adventures with friends. A picnic on the third hill. For bike rides and sore muscles. For hamburgers and chips. For fields dotted with hay bales gleaming in the evening sun. For laughter and a checked table cloth to sit on.

5) Family. For a father away, for a mother at home. For siblings who laugh and play. Watching movies, playing Wii, chasing the cat, and doing chores.

6) The garden. For rows of lettuce, fresh peas in the pod, beans ready to be picked, and much more to come.

7) Life. The freedom that He gives. That He enjoys giving me good and perfect gifts. That creation is in His hands, and that He had the creativity to make it all.

8) Him. The bestest blessing of all. The One whom I struggle to know and yet see all around me.

9) You. For taking the time out of your day to read this. That you care about me and the random happenings in my life. Thank you!

10) Counting my blessings. Truly, I can see what He has done. And this is only from one week!