Something about starting teaching full time in the middle of a semester (and a week earlier than you thought you were starting) really puts a damper on regular blogging! I come home most nights feeling so content and happy, yet so thoroughly exhausted, that I haven't been able to do much else besides think about writing a post. This last week (week 3 of teaching), was probably my best week yet and I left work on Friday feeling energized and incredibly excited for the week to come. Which also meant I am in a much better place for blogging.
I have always had a thing for musicals. As my one sister told everyone at my wedding, music (and specifically dancing to it), has always been a part of my life. Although I don't think I realized until recently just how much of a part of my life it has been. Back in March this same sister posted a link to my Facebook wall that completely made my day. It is a mash-up of famous movie dance sequences done to the song "Shut Up and Dance." Here's the link in case you want to check it out (which you obviously should).
http://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/news/a37837/mashup-of-famous-dance-scenes-great-video/
This song became my theme song when I ran. It would come on and it didn't matter where I was running or who was around--I would be breaking out the dance moves and air drumming as I went along.
On Friday one of my Law classes was working on an assignment in the computer lab when three of my boys burst into song. Couldn't tell you what the song was but I can tell you they actually harmonized quite nicely together. I couldn't help but smile.
After school that same day I had to take my husband to the garage to pick up his car. As I was driving home afterward I turned up the mixed CD my sister had sent me in the mail. Before I finish that story I should tell you what I was feeling prior to this.
I have been pretty stressed over the last few weeks, what with adjusting to teaching and trying to figure everything out. And like I said above, I have been exhausted. After dinner husband and I would put on a TV show and you could be guaranteed that I would fall asleep during it. I was incapable to keeping my eyes open and with the stress I felt like some of my creativity and excitement was lost. Or maybe not lost, just hidden. Don't get me wrong, I have been so happy and have been completely thrilled to teach. I love being in a classroom and getting to know my kids. Each student I teach, whether they want to or not, becomes one of my kids. I don't see them as just my student, but as someone I care for and invest in and want the best for. And sometimes that can be exhausting, especially when you are coming into a semester that is half done.
I have always dreamed that my life would be a musical, which is maybe why my boys breaking into song made me smile. As I turned up the volume of my car stereo, something therapeutic began to happen.
I started to dance.
When we got home my husband told me he had indeed seen me through his rear view mirror air drumming, dancing, and singing to my music.
But you have no idea how freeing that was for me. I love to dance. I'm not any good at it, but from the time I was a kid music made my body move. It could be me memorizing dance sequences to "And Then He Kissed Me" at the start of Adventures in Babysitting, or Meg's dance to "I won't say I'm in Love" from Disney's Hercules. I would come up with interpretive dances to my own music (to which my sister is still scarred from having been made to watch). Whenever I have gone to dances I have been the girl who breaks out the sprinkler or the shopping cart, or who just jumps and flails in beat to the music. Even in church there were times where the only way I felt I could express my heart to God was by dancing along to the music.
Today in church we sang the song "Blessed be Your Name." This song has had an important role in my life since I was 18 and experiencing life after high school. I did a semester of Bible College and it was during this semester that I had to grieve the separation between my family and one of the foster children we had taken in. My family was moving to another city and as such were not allowed to take this little girl with us. It broke my heart. Every child my parents brought into our house held a little piece of heart, and this girl was no different. I can still remember one of my first Sundays at Bible College, hearing this song and crying. Circumstances didn't make sense to me. But I knew that God was good.
For over ten years this song has come back to me. There have been times when I would play it on the piano at home, singing my heart out, tears tracing my face. There have been a lot of times where life doesn't make sense. There have been a lot of times where my heart has been crushed and broken and I didn't think I would ever recover from it. Yet this song always rang through. When the darkness would close in, I still had to learn to bless God and praise His name. To remember that He is good.
Even last year, when I made the decision to leave my family and work and friends to move to Ontario and marry my husband, this song was a part of my life.
After church we ended up talking with a woman about having to trust God. About changes that come in life, things that are hard to deal with, and believing that God has a plan and a purpose. That we can trust Him.
Today I realized something though. This song has always been a cry of my heart during hard times. When I felt like I wouldn't be able to go any further, these words were the ones I would cry out to my Heavenly Father. But the song isn't just about the bad times. I find we just tend to identify with those.
In the last week I have chatted with numerous people and have been asked how I'm doing. And my response has always been that I'm doing great. Because I am. I am so genuinely happy right now. I feel blessed beyond measure.
And that's when I realized that this song needs to not just be the cry of my heart when I am hurting. But it also needs to be the expression of my heart when the sun seems to be shining on me, and when the world seems to be as it should be.
I always feel like these times are a lot rarer than the hard times. And they never seem to last as long as the hard, dry seasons either. But they are still seasons. And if there is something I need to learn, it is that even in these seasons I need to praise God. Even in these times I still need to trust Him. The Bible doesn't just say "The Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord." But it says "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
Who knew that my affinity for musicals and dance sequences would actually be of spiritual significance in my life?
So for now I will "shut up and dance," and praise God for His blessings.
Sunday, 26 April 2015
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
Post 26: Peculiarities and Sanity
As of yesterday March Break was officially over and it was back to work (not that I mind that much--the classes I was subbing in yesterday were incredible and there is something pretty wonderful about high school students stopping you in the hallway to find out how your break was). A highlight was definitely telling one student that I didn't find it "weird" when she went up to my mom- and dad-in-law at her place of work and asked them if I was their daughter-in-law. She assured me she only said good things about me :)
My break was wonderful. One of my close friends who had been a bridesmaid in my wedding came out for a week (she is also a teacher). We went for runs and walks, explored downtown Hamilton (and discovered that we shouldn't be allowed down there too often or we will spend all of our money), looked at all the architecture around us, went to the movies and saw Cinderella, explored Dundurn Castle, and she introduced me to The Mindy Project. God has truly blessed me with friends that I am able to be myself with, friends who aren't afraid when I let my peculiar side show (which is far more often that I should probably admit).
How many people still dress up in regimental wear when the opportunity arises?
There is a word I mentioned earlier that came up regularly while my friend was visiting.
Peculiar.
If you type it in to your search bar the very first definition you will see will probably say "strange or odd; unusual."
Please keep this in mind.
Before going to the movies, we stopped at Chapters to look for some books. We love to read, and as English teachers are on the lookout for books that will grab our kids' imaginations. Sometimes you find a class that will love Lord of the Flies, especially when you show how it parallels The Walking Dead. Other times, no matter how hard you try, your class will spurn To Kill a Mockingbird. So we have made it somewhat of a mission to find stories our kids might connect to while still challenging them.
One book we both picked up was titled Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. I finished it within two or three days. There were numerous themes that could be discussed in a classroom setting, and several projects that you could do with a class using the novel. I'm definitely holding out hope I will be able to use it at some point.
Perhaps the one thing that really struck both my of us was the ideal of "Peculiars." These are people who are different than "normal" people. Some of them float, some can create fire, others have the ability to see the monsters that no one else can see. And these Peculiars are ostracized. They are treated differently. No one knows what to do with them. To an extent they are thought to be crazy.
I have shared before about the friends I have and how much I appreciate the quirks that we all share.
C.S. Lewis in his book, The Four Loves, states that "Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: 'What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .'"
I so value these friendships because I feel that I am able to let my guard down. I can share how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking and there is no judgement. My friends, in turn, are able to do the same thing. I feel like I have been a bit of a broken record lately when I speak of my longing for close friendships here in Hamilton. But as I have pondered this idea of being peculiar (which in turn leads me to Lewis), something else has become apparent.
Lewis goes on to say that, “In friendship...we think we have chosen our peers. In reality a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another...the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting--any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, 'Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,' can truly say to every group of Christian friends, 'Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another.' The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others.”
Whether people care to admit it or not, each us is peculiar. There is something about us that makes us a little different, at times even odd. I like to throw punches when I'm running to "Eye of the Tiger." Sometimes I will randomly break out in song or dance (and sometimes this will be in public places). When watching The Lord of the Rings I can't help but recite the lines along with the movie--and it is this ability to memorize that makes the re-enactments I do with my sisters all the more enjoyable. I like to play video games and watch zombie movies. I think Firefly was the greatest show ever created and want to name one of my children after at least one of its characters. I relish early mornings when the sun has only just risen and there is a briskness about the earth that causes me to feel surrounded by the presence of God. I think the wind blow my hair is His hand caressing my face. I have a mug fetish that will only allow me to drink out of certain mugs depending on my mood. I want to find ways to name my children after my favourite literary men (Mr. Knightley and Mr. Rochester).
For some of us our quirks are more difficult to hide. For some it is the need to have a house that is spotless for company (yeah... that's me too), or the innate desire to bake enough dessert to feed fifty people... not five. It might the genre of entertainment you enjoy, or the type of tea you drink.
When we find someone who shares, or at least understands our peculiarities, that person usually becomes a friend. And I think it is that sort of person I have been hung up on finding since I moved.
On Sunday night, a group of five couples got together at our pastor's house. We don't know much about each other beyond the fact that we're married and don't have kids, and we love Jesus. But we have decided to start a small group together.
Part of this scares me and makes me nervous--it is hard to meet new people and wonder how you will be received. But then I think of what Lewis says about God saying "Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another." These relationships can become a way through which God reveals to each of us the beauties of the others.
And so while I'm scared, I'm also excited. Because each of us is a little bit different, and I think we all want those differences to be accepted (even if they can't be understood). And it is in seeing those differences that we begin to see how intricately God created us. No two people are exactly the same. Each is unique and beautiful.
My break was wonderful. One of my close friends who had been a bridesmaid in my wedding came out for a week (she is also a teacher). We went for runs and walks, explored downtown Hamilton (and discovered that we shouldn't be allowed down there too often or we will spend all of our money), looked at all the architecture around us, went to the movies and saw Cinderella, explored Dundurn Castle, and she introduced me to The Mindy Project. God has truly blessed me with friends that I am able to be myself with, friends who aren't afraid when I let my peculiar side show (which is far more often that I should probably admit).
How many people still dress up in regimental wear when the opportunity arises?
There is a word I mentioned earlier that came up regularly while my friend was visiting.
Peculiar.
If you type it in to your search bar the very first definition you will see will probably say "strange or odd; unusual."
Please keep this in mind.
Before going to the movies, we stopped at Chapters to look for some books. We love to read, and as English teachers are on the lookout for books that will grab our kids' imaginations. Sometimes you find a class that will love Lord of the Flies, especially when you show how it parallels The Walking Dead. Other times, no matter how hard you try, your class will spurn To Kill a Mockingbird. So we have made it somewhat of a mission to find stories our kids might connect to while still challenging them.
One book we both picked up was titled Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. I finished it within two or three days. There were numerous themes that could be discussed in a classroom setting, and several projects that you could do with a class using the novel. I'm definitely holding out hope I will be able to use it at some point.
Perhaps the one thing that really struck both my of us was the ideal of "Peculiars." These are people who are different than "normal" people. Some of them float, some can create fire, others have the ability to see the monsters that no one else can see. And these Peculiars are ostracized. They are treated differently. No one knows what to do with them. To an extent they are thought to be crazy.
I have shared before about the friends I have and how much I appreciate the quirks that we all share.
C.S. Lewis in his book, The Four Loves, states that "Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: 'What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .'"
I so value these friendships because I feel that I am able to let my guard down. I can share how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking and there is no judgement. My friends, in turn, are able to do the same thing. I feel like I have been a bit of a broken record lately when I speak of my longing for close friendships here in Hamilton. But as I have pondered this idea of being peculiar (which in turn leads me to Lewis), something else has become apparent.
Lewis goes on to say that, “In friendship...we think we have chosen our peers. In reality a few years' difference in the dates of our births, a few more miles between certain houses, the choice of one university instead of another...the accident of a topic being raised or not raised at a first meeting--any of these chances might have kept us apart. But, for a Christian, there are, strictly speaking no chances. A secret master of ceremonies has been at work. Christ, who said to the disciples, 'Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you,' can truly say to every group of Christian friends, 'Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another.' The friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauties of others.”
Whether people care to admit it or not, each us is peculiar. There is something about us that makes us a little different, at times even odd. I like to throw punches when I'm running to "Eye of the Tiger." Sometimes I will randomly break out in song or dance (and sometimes this will be in public places). When watching The Lord of the Rings I can't help but recite the lines along with the movie--and it is this ability to memorize that makes the re-enactments I do with my sisters all the more enjoyable. I like to play video games and watch zombie movies. I think Firefly was the greatest show ever created and want to name one of my children after at least one of its characters. I relish early mornings when the sun has only just risen and there is a briskness about the earth that causes me to feel surrounded by the presence of God. I think the wind blow my hair is His hand caressing my face. I have a mug fetish that will only allow me to drink out of certain mugs depending on my mood. I want to find ways to name my children after my favourite literary men (Mr. Knightley and Mr. Rochester).
For some of us our quirks are more difficult to hide. For some it is the need to have a house that is spotless for company (yeah... that's me too), or the innate desire to bake enough dessert to feed fifty people... not five. It might the genre of entertainment you enjoy, or the type of tea you drink.
When we find someone who shares, or at least understands our peculiarities, that person usually becomes a friend. And I think it is that sort of person I have been hung up on finding since I moved.
On Sunday night, a group of five couples got together at our pastor's house. We don't know much about each other beyond the fact that we're married and don't have kids, and we love Jesus. But we have decided to start a small group together.
Part of this scares me and makes me nervous--it is hard to meet new people and wonder how you will be received. But then I think of what Lewis says about God saying "Ye have not chosen one another but I have chosen you for one another." These relationships can become a way through which God reveals to each of us the beauties of the others.
And so while I'm scared, I'm also excited. Because each of us is a little bit different, and I think we all want those differences to be accepted (even if they can't be understood). And it is in seeing those differences that we begin to see how intricately God created us. No two people are exactly the same. Each is unique and beautiful.
Monday, 9 March 2015
Post 25: Yahweh Sees
It has been awhile. The week after my last post I ended up working a full-time week. So it was just a little too difficult to find the time. And then last week my computer crashed. So after a wee bit of laptop shopping this weekend, I am now able to write a new entry :)
I feel like a lot has happened lately and that there is so much I could tell you about. There have been numerous teaching adventures (liking having a grade 12 student tell me how wonderful I am and then offer to sacrifice a virgin in my honor), tenant adventures, church adventures... oh, the list could go on!
Today is sunny. I'm talking positive degrees (4 degrees Celsius!), which means I got to do my morning run on actual sidewalks (not snow, slush, or ice), and didn't have to wear an ear warmer, neck warmer, gloves, two pairs of pants, or three shirts. If that isn't exciting I don't know what is! It is truly amazing what beautiful weather does for the soul.
In church we have been working through Jesus' last words on the Cross, and yesterday's message had to do with when Jesus tells his mother that his friend and disciple, John, would be her son and take care of her, and that she would be John's mother. Our pastor talked about this idea of God "seeing." She pointed to numerous places in the Bible where people were in pain, and how God saw their pain. My favourite character in the Bible is Leah. God saw that she was unloved by her husband, and so he gave her children. Through God's seeing, Leah comes to realize that it is God who completes her and not her husband. This was one of the passages our pastor shared.
This idea of God seeing has been one that often strikes a chord with me. My name, in Hebrew, means "Yahweh sees." A few years ago God took me on a real journey of discovering who I am in His eyes, and realizing that my worth and identity is determined by Him, not by myself or by those around me. He showed me that He sees me. He has seen everything I have ever experienced, from joy to pain, and has always been present through it. Has He removed the things that have hurt? Rarely. But has He always seen me and offered His peace and guidance? Yes.
One of the ways that I am often reminded of this is through nature. Sometimes it is in a moment where I step outside and a breeze starts to play with my hair or caress my face. Sometimes it is when the wind blows the trees and they create a music that all creation seems to sway and dance to. Sometimes it is when the big flakes of snow are falling down. And sometimes it is in a day like today. A day where the sun shines and I am filled with hope.
I suppose you could say that those days where nature captures my heart and attention are like receiving love letters from God. I am reminded that He sees me.
A couple of weeks ago I had a rough week. I felt lonely. My grandmother fell and ended up in the hospital with a broken him and collar bone and had to go through surgery. And this was only a few months after losing her husband. I had a run-in with our tenants that left me a little shaken. I was scared about taking over the mat leave position.
I was overwhelmed.
But this last week I have been overwhelmed in a different way.
I have been reminded and shown all the ways that God has seen what has been going on. Husband and I got to go for a date on Friday night, which left me reminded of how blessed I am. We got a new cat on Saturday (her name is Maleficient, she is a grey tabby with green eyes and we are rather in love with her), and there was something about the joy we felt when we both woke up at 5am on Sunday morning to bond with her that felt like a gift from God.
Then there is the thing that really sticks out in my mind.
I became a professing member of our church yesterday. I have not been one of those in four or five years (partly because of moving around so much, and partly from past church pain and hurt). What amazed me was how big of a deal this was not just for me, but for my church. I stood before them and told them that I do love Jesus. I was given a daily devotional and flowers by the church. The congregation came and shook my hand at the end of the service. My mom- and dad-in-law had us over for lunch and gave me flowers.
I have always believed church to be important, don't get me wrong. But the last few years have been filled with a lot of pain in that area. I have seen church leadership abuse its power. I have heard incorrect sermons from the pulpit that are "Amen'd" by everyone present. I have watched a focus on the emotional that has led to the exclusion of the intellectual. The last church I went to was so friendly and their hearts were in the right place, but I spent a month or two returning home in tears because it reminded me of a different church I used to be a member of. These weren't happy tears. These were tears of confusion and hurt.
Over the last few years (I think it has actually been four now), God has done an amazing, healing work in my life. He has taught me to forgive and has shown me where I need to repent. Family and only very close friends really knew the depths of what I was going through.
So when I made the decision to become a member, it was like a furthering of that healing. It has brought back some memories, but those memories don't cause pain anymore. I know God saw me in the midst of that and I know He brought me through.
But yesterday I got to be surrounded by family and church family who supported, encouraged, and showered love on me.
And I found myself again reminded that God really does see.
I feel like a lot has happened lately and that there is so much I could tell you about. There have been numerous teaching adventures (liking having a grade 12 student tell me how wonderful I am and then offer to sacrifice a virgin in my honor), tenant adventures, church adventures... oh, the list could go on!
Today is sunny. I'm talking positive degrees (4 degrees Celsius!), which means I got to do my morning run on actual sidewalks (not snow, slush, or ice), and didn't have to wear an ear warmer, neck warmer, gloves, two pairs of pants, or three shirts. If that isn't exciting I don't know what is! It is truly amazing what beautiful weather does for the soul.
In church we have been working through Jesus' last words on the Cross, and yesterday's message had to do with when Jesus tells his mother that his friend and disciple, John, would be her son and take care of her, and that she would be John's mother. Our pastor talked about this idea of God "seeing." She pointed to numerous places in the Bible where people were in pain, and how God saw their pain. My favourite character in the Bible is Leah. God saw that she was unloved by her husband, and so he gave her children. Through God's seeing, Leah comes to realize that it is God who completes her and not her husband. This was one of the passages our pastor shared.
This idea of God seeing has been one that often strikes a chord with me. My name, in Hebrew, means "Yahweh sees." A few years ago God took me on a real journey of discovering who I am in His eyes, and realizing that my worth and identity is determined by Him, not by myself or by those around me. He showed me that He sees me. He has seen everything I have ever experienced, from joy to pain, and has always been present through it. Has He removed the things that have hurt? Rarely. But has He always seen me and offered His peace and guidance? Yes.
One of the ways that I am often reminded of this is through nature. Sometimes it is in a moment where I step outside and a breeze starts to play with my hair or caress my face. Sometimes it is when the wind blows the trees and they create a music that all creation seems to sway and dance to. Sometimes it is when the big flakes of snow are falling down. And sometimes it is in a day like today. A day where the sun shines and I am filled with hope.
I suppose you could say that those days where nature captures my heart and attention are like receiving love letters from God. I am reminded that He sees me.
A couple of weeks ago I had a rough week. I felt lonely. My grandmother fell and ended up in the hospital with a broken him and collar bone and had to go through surgery. And this was only a few months after losing her husband. I had a run-in with our tenants that left me a little shaken. I was scared about taking over the mat leave position.
I was overwhelmed.
But this last week I have been overwhelmed in a different way.
I have been reminded and shown all the ways that God has seen what has been going on. Husband and I got to go for a date on Friday night, which left me reminded of how blessed I am. We got a new cat on Saturday (her name is Maleficient, she is a grey tabby with green eyes and we are rather in love with her), and there was something about the joy we felt when we both woke up at 5am on Sunday morning to bond with her that felt like a gift from God.
Then there is the thing that really sticks out in my mind.
I became a professing member of our church yesterday. I have not been one of those in four or five years (partly because of moving around so much, and partly from past church pain and hurt). What amazed me was how big of a deal this was not just for me, but for my church. I stood before them and told them that I do love Jesus. I was given a daily devotional and flowers by the church. The congregation came and shook my hand at the end of the service. My mom- and dad-in-law had us over for lunch and gave me flowers.
I have always believed church to be important, don't get me wrong. But the last few years have been filled with a lot of pain in that area. I have seen church leadership abuse its power. I have heard incorrect sermons from the pulpit that are "Amen'd" by everyone present. I have watched a focus on the emotional that has led to the exclusion of the intellectual. The last church I went to was so friendly and their hearts were in the right place, but I spent a month or two returning home in tears because it reminded me of a different church I used to be a member of. These weren't happy tears. These were tears of confusion and hurt.
Over the last few years (I think it has actually been four now), God has done an amazing, healing work in my life. He has taught me to forgive and has shown me where I need to repent. Family and only very close friends really knew the depths of what I was going through.
So when I made the decision to become a member, it was like a furthering of that healing. It has brought back some memories, but those memories don't cause pain anymore. I know God saw me in the midst of that and I know He brought me through.
But yesterday I got to be surrounded by family and church family who supported, encouraged, and showered love on me.
And I found myself again reminded that God really does see.
Friday, 13 February 2015
Post 24: Hard Times Require Furious Dancing
I realize that it has been almost three weeks since I wrote my last post. I wanted to, but was really not in the right frame of mind to do so.
See, last week was a rough week for me. And until Wednesday I wasn't able to fully relax. You should probably know why.
Last November I went in for a shift at the high school I supply teach at. I arrived in the office and vice principal motioned me into his office, saying he wanted to talk to me. Even as an adult, going to see the vice principal still freaks me out. I instantly thought over my last few times at the school, trying to think if I had done anything wrong.
I hadn't.
He was just letting me know that at some point in the future a maternity leave position would be opening at the school and he thought I would make a good candidate.
This was pretty exciting for me (it's always nice to know people enjoy having you work for them). A month later the position was posted and I applied on it before leaving to go see my family at Christmas. Only family and a few friends really knew about this, hence why I hadn't put it in my blog. I really didn't want to deal with everyone knowing I had failed if I didn't get the position.
Well, the posting closed on January 31. I knew I wouldn't hear right away, but I was in the school teaching the following week, so I figured I would at least hear a whisper of something.
I didn't.
And, to be honest, I was devastated. I had placed a lot on this job. I had been encouraged and told I would stand a really good chance, and then I was given nothing. And it crushed me. I have never had to fight so hard to believe that this did not determine my identity.
Every time I went to write a post last week, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew that when I did choose to write next I would have to share about what I saw as a failure, and I just wasn't ready to do that yet. I also came down with a cold, and then Jordan and I went to Jasper for the weekend for one of his cousin's wedding (which, for the record, was a blast. Despite getting sick and having very little of a voice, I loved the opportunity to hang out with my in-laws some more, and get to know the extended family. Words cannot describe how welcomed and loved I felt).
So rather than posting before leaving, I decided to postpone it.
On Friday afternoon Jordan and I were in a car driving from Edmonton to Jasper (lovely route, by the way), with his brother and sister-in-law. All of a sudden my phone went off with a message from the vice principal to book me for subbing the following week. He also mentioned that the principal wanted to talk to me about the mat leave position. So as relieved I was to hopefully get some closure, I now had to wait until the Wednesday to hear anything.
At this point I should probably say my husband is a saint when it comes to his patience with my "F.I.N.E." (Frantic, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional) state during this time. From the moment the position closed until the Wednesday I would finally hear (almost two weeks), I couldn't shut my brain down from thinking about it. My emotions were raw.
After an awesome weekend we headed home and on Wednesday I went to work. The vice principal came out right away and said something would be set up for me to talk to the principal, most likely at lunch. So I taught for a period and then it was lunch.
And the principal was still in meetings.
As I started teaching my last block of the day, I was becoming convinced that I would have to wait another week before I would hear anything about this job and whether or not I had it.
Then, halfway though the block, the principal showed up before leaving for another meeting and asked if he could talk to me quickly. Next thing I knew I was offered the job and it was announced to the staff today (and apparently there was a chorus of "Great!" from them at hearing this).
So, as of April 1, it looks like I will have some full time work. I don't have all of the details yet, those will come in the next week or so, but I do know that I have work.
Life has not always been easy, but I can attest that no matter how much of a battle it feels like I'm going through, or how difficult things are, God continues to richly bless me. Sometimes I think that I'm living in Narnia under the White Witch's reign and it is always winter and never Christmas. Then I realize my God is always present and that just because things don't work out the way I want them to doesn't mean that He is absent.
I was really scared with moving to Ontario that I would have to give up teaching because of a lack of jobs. And yet since the second week of school not a week has gone by where I haven't had at least one day of work. Most weeks I have two or three days (which amazes most of the teachers here that I talk to). And now, after less than a year, I have a maternity leave to fill.
Am I scared and nervous? Heck, yes! But God has continued to provide and take care of me. I have had so many family members and friends encouraging me throughout this and lifting me up in prayer. And all I can say is that I am so blessed, and that this leaves me feeling truly humbled.
So thank you to all of those who have been praying and supporting me--I know there are many of you. Thank you to my husband who has put up with my crazy emotions through this, and my Mom and sister who got the tear-filled calls. And most of all, thank you, Lord, for Your care and provision.
I'm going to leave you all with the picture my one sister sent me when I thought I didn't get the job. Dancing and singing is how we cope with things (both stress and relief). Let me tell you, this week I have done a fair bit of dancing (including with a grade 7 art class while "We are the Champions" is playing in the background).
See, last week was a rough week for me. And until Wednesday I wasn't able to fully relax. You should probably know why.
Last November I went in for a shift at the high school I supply teach at. I arrived in the office and vice principal motioned me into his office, saying he wanted to talk to me. Even as an adult, going to see the vice principal still freaks me out. I instantly thought over my last few times at the school, trying to think if I had done anything wrong.
I hadn't.
He was just letting me know that at some point in the future a maternity leave position would be opening at the school and he thought I would make a good candidate.
This was pretty exciting for me (it's always nice to know people enjoy having you work for them). A month later the position was posted and I applied on it before leaving to go see my family at Christmas. Only family and a few friends really knew about this, hence why I hadn't put it in my blog. I really didn't want to deal with everyone knowing I had failed if I didn't get the position.
Well, the posting closed on January 31. I knew I wouldn't hear right away, but I was in the school teaching the following week, so I figured I would at least hear a whisper of something.
I didn't.
And, to be honest, I was devastated. I had placed a lot on this job. I had been encouraged and told I would stand a really good chance, and then I was given nothing. And it crushed me. I have never had to fight so hard to believe that this did not determine my identity.
Every time I went to write a post last week, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew that when I did choose to write next I would have to share about what I saw as a failure, and I just wasn't ready to do that yet. I also came down with a cold, and then Jordan and I went to Jasper for the weekend for one of his cousin's wedding (which, for the record, was a blast. Despite getting sick and having very little of a voice, I loved the opportunity to hang out with my in-laws some more, and get to know the extended family. Words cannot describe how welcomed and loved I felt).
So rather than posting before leaving, I decided to postpone it.
On Friday afternoon Jordan and I were in a car driving from Edmonton to Jasper (lovely route, by the way), with his brother and sister-in-law. All of a sudden my phone went off with a message from the vice principal to book me for subbing the following week. He also mentioned that the principal wanted to talk to me about the mat leave position. So as relieved I was to hopefully get some closure, I now had to wait until the Wednesday to hear anything.
At this point I should probably say my husband is a saint when it comes to his patience with my "F.I.N.E." (Frantic, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional) state during this time. From the moment the position closed until the Wednesday I would finally hear (almost two weeks), I couldn't shut my brain down from thinking about it. My emotions were raw.
After an awesome weekend we headed home and on Wednesday I went to work. The vice principal came out right away and said something would be set up for me to talk to the principal, most likely at lunch. So I taught for a period and then it was lunch.
And the principal was still in meetings.
As I started teaching my last block of the day, I was becoming convinced that I would have to wait another week before I would hear anything about this job and whether or not I had it.
Then, halfway though the block, the principal showed up before leaving for another meeting and asked if he could talk to me quickly. Next thing I knew I was offered the job and it was announced to the staff today (and apparently there was a chorus of "Great!" from them at hearing this).
So, as of April 1, it looks like I will have some full time work. I don't have all of the details yet, those will come in the next week or so, but I do know that I have work.
Life has not always been easy, but I can attest that no matter how much of a battle it feels like I'm going through, or how difficult things are, God continues to richly bless me. Sometimes I think that I'm living in Narnia under the White Witch's reign and it is always winter and never Christmas. Then I realize my God is always present and that just because things don't work out the way I want them to doesn't mean that He is absent.
I was really scared with moving to Ontario that I would have to give up teaching because of a lack of jobs. And yet since the second week of school not a week has gone by where I haven't had at least one day of work. Most weeks I have two or three days (which amazes most of the teachers here that I talk to). And now, after less than a year, I have a maternity leave to fill.
Am I scared and nervous? Heck, yes! But God has continued to provide and take care of me. I have had so many family members and friends encouraging me throughout this and lifting me up in prayer. And all I can say is that I am so blessed, and that this leaves me feeling truly humbled.
So thank you to all of those who have been praying and supporting me--I know there are many of you. Thank you to my husband who has put up with my crazy emotions through this, and my Mom and sister who got the tear-filled calls. And most of all, thank you, Lord, for Your care and provision.
I'm going to leave you all with the picture my one sister sent me when I thought I didn't get the job. Dancing and singing is how we cope with things (both stress and relief). Let me tell you, this week I have done a fair bit of dancing (including with a grade 7 art class while "We are the Champions" is playing in the background).
Tuesday, 27 January 2015
Post 23: Rocky Meets Narnia
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.
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.
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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