After our cold snap at the start of January I refuse to not run if the weather isn't too bad (I've decided -10 to -15 is more than adequate for running). To ensure I don't freeze I have taken up layering. The result is me with two hoodies (with both hoods pulled over my head), an ear warmer, neck warmer, and gloves. As I set off from our house I hit play on my ipod and started running. With the hoods pulled up, and some "Gonna Fly Now" blasting through my earphones, I couldn't help but imagine that I was Rocky. Which meant that while running I may or may not have thrown some punches (I don't even want to know what people think of me). It was also snowing, and not just tiny flakes. We're talking big, fluffy flakes, like the kind you would imagine Lucy and Mr. Tumnus meeting under at the lamppost.
Yes, this is how my imagination works.
I have spent the last two days trying to figure out what to write about. Only this time it isn't because I don't know what to talk about, it's because I have heard a lot of things lately that I could write about. I think there are a few things that I will save for later and for now I will just talk from the heart.
Last week I got to spend four days teaching the same class. It was a quirky group of grade six students and I loved getting to spend time with them. I had them once for a music class in the fall and they thought my making a fool of myself was hilarious (good thing I don't have a problem with making a fool of myself). Two students found broken paint brushes while I was there and presented them to my so I could have my own conducting sticks. I thought that was pretty cute.
With the start of the New Year I found a reading plan for my devotions and have really worked hard to be diligent in my reading. I began to notice myself being less concerned with what I was reading on my scale every morning, and instead found I was feeling healthy and happy. For the first time in a while I had returned to catching a glimpse of myself the way God saw me.
Then something happened on Sunday.
I woke up feeling a little down. Couldn't explain what it was, I just felt worn down. Jordan and I went to church and for the second week in a row I had the sense of being overwhelmed with the tangible presence of God.
Almost as soon as this happened, I messed up singing one of the songs. Not a big deal--it happens fairly often :) What shocked me was how I started to mentally beat myself up for it. I never do that, but in this case I felt so discouraged. As the day progressed I had to fight that response over everything I did. At one point it got so bad that if I ate I felt guilty over it.
There is something wonderful about being able to go to your husband, cry, tell him what you're experiencing, and know that he will encourage and pray for you. Having someone else go to God on your behalf is sometimes what you need.
And so far this week has started off better. I've exercised, cleaned the house, walked into the downtown to a used bookstore I have been wanting to check out since moving here, and have just plain relaxed.
And with that I think I will end today's post. I'm teaching grade three tomorrow so I'm getting myself into my crazy groove. And I'm also going to go and try a new recipe out for dinner.
Before I go I just want to leave you with something that I have mentioned before: Matt Chandler talks about two major hurdles that women face and they are perfectionism and comparison. When telling husband what I was going through he pointed out to me that I do tend to compare myself to others.
Please don't do that. We are all guilty of it; sometimes we compare ourselves to make us feel better, and other times through doing it we make ourselves feel worse. It's not healthy and I don't for one moment believe that God intends for us to do that. I'm me. Sometimes I don't like who I am, but I am made in the image of God. I am a piece of art and my beauty is in the eyes of my Beholder. Comparison leads only to frustration and discontent. It ruins relationships. A woman feels like she doesn't measure up to her sister, and a rift develops between them. Friends unwittingly take part in a competition that can rob them of a greater depth. We compare ourselves to others and then become convinced that everyone else is judging us. We twist and warp things. We find ourselves unhappy, beaten down, and alone.
Each and every one of us is unique. We are different. But we are all works of art made by the True Artist.
Tuesday 27 January 2015
Monday 19 January 2015
Post 22: Church Flashbacks and the Anniversary
I had every intention of writing last week. Really, I did. I was only booked to work Tuesday, so I thought I would have ample time for contemplation and writing. But then I got called in to work Monday. And Wednesday. And Thursday. I also tutored Monday-Friday. By the the time Friday day rolled around all I wanted to do was clean my poor, neglected house.
This week is going to be about as busy also, since I am booked to teach grade six Tuesday-Friday. Which means if I'm going to blog, today is probably going to be the day to get it done.
I found that last week I was having trouble thinking about what to write. I could comment on some of my experiences teaching (a full day of senior kindergarten... elementary teachers, especially primary ones, hold my highest level of respect), or about finishing the book Unbroken (fantastic read, just putting it out there... I finished it in three days... would have been sooner but I was called in to work), or about the adventures of working out to my Jillian Michaels DVDs in the living room (me kickboxing... scary thought indeed).
The problem is that I was having trouble trying to think of something a little deeper I could put in there. So rather than write a too-fluffy post, I decided to wait and think on it some more.
This weekend Jordan and I decided it was time to organize our spare room. It has been the bastion of unpacked boxes, seasonal decorations, items to go to Good Will, and our cat. We hate showing off the bedrooms of our house because of this room. So on Saturday, after going out for brunch at a lovely deli that is only a two minute walk from our house, we went shopping for shelving and spent the rest of the day assembling shelves and unpacking boxes (with an occasional break for some macaroni and cheese, beans, and wieners and an episode of Suits).
Sunday marked our six month anniversary. I realize it may sound silly, but this was still an exciting milestone for us.
We started off our Sunday morning with breakfast and reading together from our Tim Keller marriage book (this is our weekend breakfast ritual). Our readings that morning had to do with friendship and its character. Keller quotes CS Lewis (shocking, I know), saying the following:
Friendship arises... when two or more... discover that they have in common some insight or interest... Friendship must be about something, even if it were only an enthusiasm for dominoes or white mice. Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travelers.
Keller then builds on this by looking at Christian friendship. He says that:
...any two Christians, with nothing else but a common faith in Christ, can have a robust friendship, helping each other on their journey toward the new creation, as well as doing ministry together in the world.
I have mentioned a few times how I would love to develop some close friendships here in Ontario. But please don't think this means I do not value my friends who are scattered all over the country (and the continent, for that matter). As we were reading through this part of the book, I began to think of the common insights or interests the drew me to the friends I have. With some it was a love of Jane Austen and BBC period dramas, with others it was TV shows, Barbies, and video games. Still others it was a true appreciation for classic movies (an appreciation that may have lead to choreographed dance routines involving umbrellas), or an enjoyment of being outdoors, or a weak spot for hot beverages. Sometimes a love of reading and writing led to two girls creating their own world and writing letters back and forth, imagining themselves the heroines in the epic story they were creating. I remember connecting with one friend over the common interest in Reformed theology and a common disinterest in Canadian Literature.
At times a person can grow frustrated with their friends. Sometimes we love someone so much that we see them hurting ourselves and no matter how we try to help, we discover we are helpless to stop them. All we can do is love them and pray that God will help them get through what they are going through.
Sometimes we can just feel far away from our friends. As I write this, I'm sitting down with some tea and orange slices.
I wish very much so that I could have a friend here to share this with me. What Jordan and I read gave me a very new appreciation for the infinite ways God has blessed me.
Now I don't want you to think that I'm feeling all lonely and sad, because the story doesn't end there. We went to church. It was a baptism and a communion service. We witnessed the baptism, listened to the sermon, and had just been served the bread. As I waited for the rest of the congregation to be served, I listened to the song the pianist was playing. It was "Power of Your Love."
I have not heard that song in years. All of I sudden I was thrown back into the Pentecostal church we attended when I was eleven and twelve, and we would sing this song semi-regularly. Might I add that I had one epic interpretive dance sequence figured out to the chorus. I began to hum along to the piano, and in my mind I started to sing the words.
Lord I come to know,
The weaknesses I see in me,
Will be swept away,
By the power of Your love.
Hold me close,
Let Your love surround me.
Bring me near,
Draw me to Your side,
And as I wait,
I will rise up like the eagles,
And I will soar with You,
Your Spirit leads me on,
In the power of Your love.
As I sat in the pew, my piece of bread resting on my palm, I began to feel overwhelmed with love. Despite my weaknesses and shortcomings, I became ever so aware of the love my God has for me.
With this in mind, I ate the bread, and then waited as the juice was passed around. The pianist began to play another song.
It was "Jesus Loves Me."
I have to be honest, I almost lost it. Despite images of me in Sunday School doing the actions to this song (or of me doing the actions with a group of kindergarten kids earlier that week), I was overcome. That song had never affected me that way before, but all I could do was agree that "Yes, Jesus loves me."
As we left church, I felt so blessed, so loved, and so cherished.
We went and had lunch with my Mom and Dad in-law and brother-in-law, and the went to the movies in honour of our anniversary (saw Selma and we really enjoyed it). Then it was a quiet night in.
And all through the rest of the day I was reminded of the presence of the God I love and serve. The One who can speak to me through church flashbacks, and who uses our six month anniversary as a means of reminding me of all the ways He has blessed me.
This week is going to be about as busy also, since I am booked to teach grade six Tuesday-Friday. Which means if I'm going to blog, today is probably going to be the day to get it done.
I found that last week I was having trouble thinking about what to write. I could comment on some of my experiences teaching (a full day of senior kindergarten... elementary teachers, especially primary ones, hold my highest level of respect), or about finishing the book Unbroken (fantastic read, just putting it out there... I finished it in three days... would have been sooner but I was called in to work), or about the adventures of working out to my Jillian Michaels DVDs in the living room (me kickboxing... scary thought indeed).
The problem is that I was having trouble trying to think of something a little deeper I could put in there. So rather than write a too-fluffy post, I decided to wait and think on it some more.
This weekend Jordan and I decided it was time to organize our spare room. It has been the bastion of unpacked boxes, seasonal decorations, items to go to Good Will, and our cat. We hate showing off the bedrooms of our house because of this room. So on Saturday, after going out for brunch at a lovely deli that is only a two minute walk from our house, we went shopping for shelving and spent the rest of the day assembling shelves and unpacking boxes (with an occasional break for some macaroni and cheese, beans, and wieners and an episode of Suits).
Sunday marked our six month anniversary. I realize it may sound silly, but this was still an exciting milestone for us.
We started off our Sunday morning with breakfast and reading together from our Tim Keller marriage book (this is our weekend breakfast ritual). Our readings that morning had to do with friendship and its character. Keller quotes CS Lewis (shocking, I know), saying the following:
Friendship arises... when two or more... discover that they have in common some insight or interest... Friendship must be about something, even if it were only an enthusiasm for dominoes or white mice. Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travelers.
Keller then builds on this by looking at Christian friendship. He says that:
...any two Christians, with nothing else but a common faith in Christ, can have a robust friendship, helping each other on their journey toward the new creation, as well as doing ministry together in the world.
I have mentioned a few times how I would love to develop some close friendships here in Ontario. But please don't think this means I do not value my friends who are scattered all over the country (and the continent, for that matter). As we were reading through this part of the book, I began to think of the common insights or interests the drew me to the friends I have. With some it was a love of Jane Austen and BBC period dramas, with others it was TV shows, Barbies, and video games. Still others it was a true appreciation for classic movies (an appreciation that may have lead to choreographed dance routines involving umbrellas), or an enjoyment of being outdoors, or a weak spot for hot beverages. Sometimes a love of reading and writing led to two girls creating their own world and writing letters back and forth, imagining themselves the heroines in the epic story they were creating. I remember connecting with one friend over the common interest in Reformed theology and a common disinterest in Canadian Literature.
At times a person can grow frustrated with their friends. Sometimes we love someone so much that we see them hurting ourselves and no matter how we try to help, we discover we are helpless to stop them. All we can do is love them and pray that God will help them get through what they are going through.
Sometimes we can just feel far away from our friends. As I write this, I'm sitting down with some tea and orange slices.
I wish very much so that I could have a friend here to share this with me. What Jordan and I read gave me a very new appreciation for the infinite ways God has blessed me.
Now I don't want you to think that I'm feeling all lonely and sad, because the story doesn't end there. We went to church. It was a baptism and a communion service. We witnessed the baptism, listened to the sermon, and had just been served the bread. As I waited for the rest of the congregation to be served, I listened to the song the pianist was playing. It was "Power of Your Love."
I have not heard that song in years. All of I sudden I was thrown back into the Pentecostal church we attended when I was eleven and twelve, and we would sing this song semi-regularly. Might I add that I had one epic interpretive dance sequence figured out to the chorus. I began to hum along to the piano, and in my mind I started to sing the words.
Lord I come to know,
The weaknesses I see in me,
Will be swept away,
By the power of Your love.
Hold me close,
Let Your love surround me.
Bring me near,
Draw me to Your side,
And as I wait,
I will rise up like the eagles,
And I will soar with You,
Your Spirit leads me on,
In the power of Your love.
As I sat in the pew, my piece of bread resting on my palm, I began to feel overwhelmed with love. Despite my weaknesses and shortcomings, I became ever so aware of the love my God has for me.
With this in mind, I ate the bread, and then waited as the juice was passed around. The pianist began to play another song.
It was "Jesus Loves Me."
I have to be honest, I almost lost it. Despite images of me in Sunday School doing the actions to this song (or of me doing the actions with a group of kindergarten kids earlier that week), I was overcome. That song had never affected me that way before, but all I could do was agree that "Yes, Jesus loves me."
As we left church, I felt so blessed, so loved, and so cherished.
We went and had lunch with my Mom and Dad in-law and brother-in-law, and the went to the movies in honour of our anniversary (saw Selma and we really enjoyed it). Then it was a quiet night in.
And all through the rest of the day I was reminded of the presence of the God I love and serve. The One who can speak to me through church flashbacks, and who uses our six month anniversary as a means of reminding me of all the ways He has blessed me.
Friday 9 January 2015
Post 21: Dancing to my own Beat
It has been a pretty crazy two and a half weeks since I wrote my last post. On Christmas Even we flew out West and got to spend four very fun (and also very quick) days with my family. There were games, movies, walks, runs, more food that you could imagine (hence the walks and runs), and FaceTime moments (my one brother and his wife were unable to make it). I think my husband enjoyed seeing where I get some of my quirks from. Like my, "What's that? We have a couple coming over? I better make enough appetizers for four or five couples... or more!" I am my mother's daughter, that much was definitely established over Christmas :) And that is alright with me!
We took a red-eye flight back home and before you knew it it was New Years. We spent this holiday with Jordan's family (I do so love extended Christmases). There was more food (noticing a pattern yet?), games, walks, and time to visit.
Needless to say, I have spent the last few weeks feeling very blessed. There is something incredible about knowing you are loved. About being surrounded by the people you love.
To top off our holiday, Jordan and I decided that this last weekend was the most opportune time in the world to finally paint our dining room. Our original plan had been to do it back in October. But that was the weekend my Opa passed away, and so it just kind of kept getting pushed back.
There is something doing the dining room definitely reinforced for me. You see, I'm a bit weird. I prefer quirky, but I know I'm weird. Anyone who knows me can attest to this. I tend to dance to the beat of my own drum. I told my kindergarten teacher I was in the depths of despair and learned to spell "chrysanthemum" by the time I was seven (thank you, Anne Shirley, for so forming my personality). By the time I was twelve I was still trying to sneak into Narnia through closets and wardrobes (this included the coat rooms at my school). If I'm listening to music when I'm running and you were to watch closely, you would notice that I will air drum while running. When I step outside and hear the wind blowing in the trees, I can close my eyes and imagine that I'm in some other world, one where the wind sings and I am able to dance with the trees.
While we were painting the dining room, we had some music playing and Bon Jovi's "Wanted: Dead or Alive" started. For anyone who has ever seen the show Supernatural, there is an scene near the end of season 2 where this song starts to play while the Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean, or in their car. And they sing along. It is perhaps the most epic sing-along ever, and I can't help but think of it and smile. Needless to say, I started singing along (I like to pretend I'm Dean Winchester). My husband, every gracious to his strange wife, willingly and of his own volition did Sam's echo.
A little while later, as we were cleaning up, I overheard my husband putting things away. As I listened, he was tidying in beat with the music. I mentioned this to him the next day and he was a little shocked as he had noticed no such thing. But then he said something to me that I will never forget. He said, "I like how your mind picks up on things like that."
I spent a good chunk of my late teen and early young adult years feeling odd and like I never quite fit in. My closest friends were always those who, like me (though in different ways), tended to see the world through a lens unlike many other people. But I know a lot of other people who would smile and give me a sort of "Aww... she's so cute in a weird sort of way" look. At times this was hard to deal with. I have a crazy imagination and the things my brain picks up on or notices don't make sense to a lot of people.
The way my mind works has also created a lot of discontent. Or maybe less discontent and more longing. I have an imagination that wonders if maybe the next time I turn the bend on the trail I will find myself in another world.
Over Christmas my Dad lent me a book. It's called If I had Lunch with C.S. Lewis. I am about a chapter and a half into it, but the first chapter deals with the idea of finding meaning in life, and what Lewis would have to say about that. The author, Alister McGrath, continually mentions Lewis' view of imagination and the role it plays in our lives. He argues that we have longings and desires that nothing in the world will ever be able to satisfy, and that as Christians this is because we were created for heaven. As Lewis says, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in the world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that I was made for another world."
I think for everyone, no matter how they look at the world, there is always some sort of a sense of longing. No matter how happy and content you are, there is still some part of you that longs for something more.
For me, I really appreciated the reminder that this is because I was created for another world. I want so badly to keep my eyes on God, to be reminded of Him in all that I say and do. And now, whether it's in a dance I see as music plays, in the fun times of singing along to the radio, or in the moments when the wind blows in such a way that I'm convinced it is caressing my face, I want to be reminded of my Creator. Of the One who not only created me with this kind of an imagination, but Who also shares it.
We took a red-eye flight back home and before you knew it it was New Years. We spent this holiday with Jordan's family (I do so love extended Christmases). There was more food (noticing a pattern yet?), games, walks, and time to visit.
Needless to say, I have spent the last few weeks feeling very blessed. There is something incredible about knowing you are loved. About being surrounded by the people you love.
To top off our holiday, Jordan and I decided that this last weekend was the most opportune time in the world to finally paint our dining room. Our original plan had been to do it back in October. But that was the weekend my Opa passed away, and so it just kind of kept getting pushed back.
There is something doing the dining room definitely reinforced for me. You see, I'm a bit weird. I prefer quirky, but I know I'm weird. Anyone who knows me can attest to this. I tend to dance to the beat of my own drum. I told my kindergarten teacher I was in the depths of despair and learned to spell "chrysanthemum" by the time I was seven (thank you, Anne Shirley, for so forming my personality). By the time I was twelve I was still trying to sneak into Narnia through closets and wardrobes (this included the coat rooms at my school). If I'm listening to music when I'm running and you were to watch closely, you would notice that I will air drum while running. When I step outside and hear the wind blowing in the trees, I can close my eyes and imagine that I'm in some other world, one where the wind sings and I am able to dance with the trees.
While we were painting the dining room, we had some music playing and Bon Jovi's "Wanted: Dead or Alive" started. For anyone who has ever seen the show Supernatural, there is an scene near the end of season 2 where this song starts to play while the Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean, or in their car. And they sing along. It is perhaps the most epic sing-along ever, and I can't help but think of it and smile. Needless to say, I started singing along (I like to pretend I'm Dean Winchester). My husband, every gracious to his strange wife, willingly and of his own volition did Sam's echo.
A little while later, as we were cleaning up, I overheard my husband putting things away. As I listened, he was tidying in beat with the music. I mentioned this to him the next day and he was a little shocked as he had noticed no such thing. But then he said something to me that I will never forget. He said, "I like how your mind picks up on things like that."
I spent a good chunk of my late teen and early young adult years feeling odd and like I never quite fit in. My closest friends were always those who, like me (though in different ways), tended to see the world through a lens unlike many other people. But I know a lot of other people who would smile and give me a sort of "Aww... she's so cute in a weird sort of way" look. At times this was hard to deal with. I have a crazy imagination and the things my brain picks up on or notices don't make sense to a lot of people.
The way my mind works has also created a lot of discontent. Or maybe less discontent and more longing. I have an imagination that wonders if maybe the next time I turn the bend on the trail I will find myself in another world.
Over Christmas my Dad lent me a book. It's called If I had Lunch with C.S. Lewis. I am about a chapter and a half into it, but the first chapter deals with the idea of finding meaning in life, and what Lewis would have to say about that. The author, Alister McGrath, continually mentions Lewis' view of imagination and the role it plays in our lives. He argues that we have longings and desires that nothing in the world will ever be able to satisfy, and that as Christians this is because we were created for heaven. As Lewis says, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in the world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that I was made for another world."
I think for everyone, no matter how they look at the world, there is always some sort of a sense of longing. No matter how happy and content you are, there is still some part of you that longs for something more.
For me, I really appreciated the reminder that this is because I was created for another world. I want so badly to keep my eyes on God, to be reminded of Him in all that I say and do. And now, whether it's in a dance I see as music plays, in the fun times of singing along to the radio, or in the moments when the wind blows in such a way that I'm convinced it is caressing my face, I want to be reminded of my Creator. Of the One who not only created me with this kind of an imagination, but Who also shares it.
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