Post 32: The Good

This last week has been a rough one.  My Oma’s funeral was on Monday, and Jordan and I returned home after that.  I was able to put in half days on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and could just take report cards and such home with me.  On Wednesday night I was able to go out for coffee, and I started Thursday out feeling refreshed and like I could carry on.

Then Friday hit, and with it came the realization that both of grandparents are gone. 

I’m trying really hard to not start crying as I type this out.

This weekend we celebrated my mother-in-law’s 60^th birthday, so it was a weekend of fun and festivities.  We were out Friday night and all day Saturday, celebrating.

Then Sunday morning hit, and while Jordan was getting ready I was brewing coffee, cooking oatmeal, and washing some dishes (because I’m anal and the dishes HAD to be done).  We were given one of the floral arrangements from my Oma’s funeral, and I was excited to have a pretty vase that would serve as a reminder of this woman.  As I went to rinse the vase after washing, it broke in my hand.  I started to bleed and while struggling to find something to wrap my hand in, the oatmeal started to boil over on the stove.  Jordan came out to see if I needed help, and instead he had a wife who was lost in her own world throughout breakfast and who could barely hold the tears back.  We got to church, and as I’m looking through the bulletin, I see the part where the mention things that are going on in our church family.  At the very top was condolences to Jordan and me.

Throughout worship, I was either on the verge of crying or else I was crying.  At one point we started to sing “Awesome God,” and as all the voices flooded together I became so overwhelmed that I couldn’t sing.  All I could do was stand and cry (which is an awful position to be in when you are going to have family pictures taken right away after church and you haven’t brought any make-up with you to touch up your face).

Jordan’s brother and his family came up to surprise my mom-in-law, and what resulted was a niece on my lap and one on his for pretty much the entire service.  Every time one of the girls would grab my arms and wrap them tightly around their bodies, I was flooded with a sense of comfort.  Of care.  It was as if God was holding my heart in the midst of pain and sorrow, and was reminding me that He is still present.  He is still good.  He hasn’t stopped being God and He is still working in me.

"God does not promise you better life circumstances if you follow Him, He promises you a better life."

This is the line that has been playing over in my head since my run on Thursday.  Tim Keller remains my favourite pastor to listen to, and I found that when Thursday hit I needed the comfort of his voice.  I have listened to his podcast on "The Christian's Happiness" before, but given how the last six weeks or so have gone, I felt like it was fitting to listen to it again.

Keller is preaching from Romans 8:28-29, where it says "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters."

This is probably one of the most misquoted portions of Scripture that I have ever head, and Keller points this out.  When we don't get something we want, our response is "Well God has something better for me."  He gives the example of applying to grad school and then not getting in.  A Christian's response is usually, “Well, there is a better school out there for me.”  When I was single and it seemed like relationships either didn’t pan out or else were never appearing, my response was always, “God has the perfect man out there and he is better than anything else.”

Keller points out, though, that this is not what God promises.  These are circumstances in our lives, not our lives.  I think one of our biggest problems is that we like to just quote verse 28 and ignore verse 29 (silly context).  In his sermon, Keller talks about how verse 29 starts with the word “For” which lets us know that these two verse are connected.  This says then that God works for our good, FOR (or because) we have been called to be made like Christ. 

Sometimes our circumstances work out better than we could have hoped.  After navigating life as a single and losing hope that there were any good guys out there, I met a man who proved me wrong. A man who cherishes and challenges me.  A few weeks ago I found out the maternity leave I was filling wasn’t going to be extended.  For those of you who don’t know, on Friday it was confirmed that I will instead be teaching part time next year, and I will be teaching English (which is what I went to school to teach).

As Keller puts it, when these circumstances work out like this, it isn’t because that is what God has promised, it is simply an extension of His grace.

Because more often than naught, our circumstances don’t turn out like that.  I lost my Opa in the fall and instead of getting to have a few years to grow closer with my Oma, we held a funeral celebrating her life one week ago.  We lost a trip to Hawaii, but no tickets to Europe have appeared in the mail to replace them.

I have seen people grow upset and bitter with God because their circumstances don’t turn out the way that they feel they should.  They believe that if God isn’t going to give them what they want, then He better have something even better in store.

But it doesn’t work like that.

And I think this is the lesson that God has really been teaching me this year.

I am learning that no matter what my circumstances, God is working for my good to make me more like Him.  We are called to be Christ-like, yet Christ didn’t get everything He wanted or more.  He asked His Father if it was possible to have this cup removed from Him.  He was brutally killed.  We are supposed to strive to be more like Christ.

I am not saying we aren’t allowed to be disappointed when things don’t go our way.  But who is our identity determined by and through?  Our Creator.  My identity is not determined by whether I have a full time teaching job.  It isn’t determined by whether I’m single or married.  It isn’t determined by whether I have kids or no kids.  It isn’t determined by my friends.

My God knit me together in my Mom’s womb, and He is continuing to mold me and conform me to be more like Him.

In the midst of pain, it is hard to look beyond and be content with the idea that God isn’t promising me better circumstances.  Sometimes it is hard to take comfort in the knowledge that He is using these circumstances to conform me to His image, and that that is the good He promises.

One of my favourite quotations from CS Lewis is actually from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  The children are taking with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver about who Aslan is.  I love Mr. Beaver’s response:

“‘Safe?’ said Mr. Beaver; ‘don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.’”

We tend to long for the safety that comes from having circumstances work out the way we want them to, or else better.  But God is so good, that rather than giving me what I want or I think I deserve, that rather than changing my circumstances, He is changing my heart.  He is changing my very being.

Post 31: It's Pouring

About one minute ago the skies let loose and we are now experiencing a torrential downpour.  The clouds are dark and all I can hear is the rain drumming against buildings and the road.

It's strangely therapeutic, and maybe that's because today the world feels just a bit darker, gloomier, and sadder.

On Sunday I was able to drive north and attend my cousin's baby shower.  It was a fantastic opportunity to see my extended family.  I got to sit next to my Oma and explain to her what each gift was as my cousin opened them.  At various points the group would be in stitches over something Oma said or did.  When she wasn't pretending to be pregnant by putting a balloon up her shirt she was talking about the possibilities of her having another child.  She was cracking jokes (in true Oma style) and seemed so full of life.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day.  I went for a run beneath the shining sun, cleaned my house, and enjoyed myself (I was allowed to mark from home).  Then, just before lunch, my Mom called.  She told me Oma had suffered a stroke.  She had fallen because of it and was in the hospital.

I'm not going to lie, my initial reaction was "This is Oma.  She'll jump back."  I mean, you should have seen her after she fell and broke her hip.  Jordan and I went to visit her and even on morphine she was making us laugh.  She's the kind of woman that nothing seems to be able to hold back.

She was that kind of woman.

As the day progressed and clouded over, I began to realize that Oma was not coming back from this.  It was a severe stroke and the most we could hope for was that she would make it through the night so that all of her kids could say good bye.

We went out last night and I got to hold her hand and kiss her forehead.  I got to tell her how much I loved getting to be closer to her.  That I loved her and would miss her.  I said good bye to her for each of my siblings and made sure she knew how badly they wanted to be with her.

The woman in the bed was not the same woman I had the privilege of sitting with on Sunday's shower.

This morning, at 9:50 I got the text telling me she had passed.

I'm sitting here in the dark, crying, wrapped in the blanket she had made for me last fall.  It's a baby blanket, meant for whenever we have children, but I don't care.  It's keeping me warm right now. And it reminds me of her.

I wish I could describe how I feel but I don't know how.  I want to yell "It's not fair!" and yet that isn't really the right sentiment.  It has been less than 8 months since Opa died, but I thought for sure I would have Oma for a few more years.  I had thought for certain she would be around at least for our first child so she could see it wrapped in the blanket she made.  As we drove home from the hospital last night, both Jordan and I discussed the fact that our children will never know their great-grandparents on either side.  They will never get to have a four-generation picture.

Words can't begin to describe how honored I am to have had these months being near my family.  I get to be with them through this.  I got to say good bye.  My heart goes out to my siblings and cousins who can't make it back.

Right now it seems like the only thing I can do is cry, "Oh, God."  I have no words.  No explanations.  I'm not angry.  I'm just deeply grieved.  My heart aches to get an Oma kiss on the cheek.  To have coffee with her one last time.  To eat all of her black licorice.

I guess I just ask that you would keep my family in your prayers.  We don't really know how to respond or what to do.  We are all hurting.

Oh, God...

Post 30: The Problem of Pain

Pain and hurt are funny things.

Not that I find it funny to be in pain.  I really don't.  Several weeks ago I took a tumble while running.  And when I say a "tumble," I mean that I was running a 4 minute 10 second kilometer and all of a sudden my feet went out from under me and I was on pavement. I jumped up and ran another block before the pain began.  Then I stopped.  I walked the rest of the way home and when I got through the front door, this was the state of things.

This happened on a Wednesday.  By Friday I was running again, but I had to take it slow.  If I ran too fast or too far, my knees would send out a warning.  Coming from a family of runners, most of whom suffer from some sort of knee ailment, I have learned to at least try to heed the warnings my body sends out.  Ignoring your pain usually just makes it worse.

But another problem can happen too.  Sometimes when you're in pain, all you want to do is revel in it.  A lot of the time you don't even realize you are doing it.  I was the kid who made a big deal out of every cut and bruise growing up.  My head didn't even have to hurt and I would be resting on the couch with a cold cloth on my forehead. I would cry at anything and would relish any attention given to me.  I thank God that my parents kept on me.  They were always there to comfort and acknowledge legitimate pain, but even when my heart was broken they would remind me that life still had to go on.

Which is true.  Life still goes on.  Not just for you, but for everyone around you.

Words cannot begin to describe how blessed I felt after my last post when I shared about my journey with what is going on with the job situation.  I received emails, texts, phone calls... people who just wanted to let me know they were thinking and praying for us through this time.

It has now been almost two weeks since I found out the position wasn't being continued.  And by God's grace I think I have done an alright job of still living.  There are so many people around me who are dealing with things.  Friends who are looking for work and feel like every door is being shut in their face.  Friends who are moving somewhere new.

We all have our own pain and hurt that we are dealing with.  Sometimes we ignore it because it doesn't seem as big a deal as what other people are going through.  And sometimes we allow it to consume us because we don't think anyone else knows what we are going through or will ever hurt as much as we do.

But pain is pain.

It still hurts.

It varies in how it looks and how it plays out, and different people experience different pain.  But we all still hurt.

One of my favourite books by CS Lewis is The Problem of Pain.  I read it about three and a half years ago and it is one of my more underlined and noted of Lewis' works.

Long before Kelly Clarkson told the world that "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," my Dad was telling us kids the same thing.  We had our moments where we wanted to scream at him.  After all, would it kill God to give us a break and make things a little bit easier?  But Dad would always remind us that you don't really want everything to be easy.  In ease and comfort we tend to forget God.

It took me a really long time to understand what my Dad meant.

I think Lewis sums it up fairly well.

"Pain hurts.  That is what the word means.  I am only trying to show that the old Christian doctrine of being made 'perfect through suffering' is not incredible..."

He then goes on to talk about our responses when pain is removed.

"Let Him but sheathe the sword for a moment and I behave like a puppy when the hated bath is over--I shake myself as dry as I can and race off to require my comfortable dirtiness, if not in the nearest manure heap, at least in the nearest flower bed.  And this is why tribulations cannot ceases until God either sees us remade or sees that our remaking is now hopeless."

Pain can serve a purpose because it insists on being attended to.  "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

Gosh, Lewis is a smart man!

I suppose my reasoning for writing this is to just encourage you.  All of us experience some kind of pain.  And we all respond to that pain differently.  Some view it as God's megaphone and instantly turn to Him.  They try to trust Him with what is going and try to allow Him to continue molding them through that pain.  Some try to ignore it and often end up in more pain.  They also end up hurting others because they remain closed off in hopes of not being hurt.  They ignore their pain and will often expect other people to respond in the same way.  Still others are so consumed by their pain that they are unable to acknowledge anyone else's pain.  Their hearts are so broken and their pain so real and so present that they can't understand why no one else understands.  Whereas some people shut their friends and family out so that they can ignore pain, others want only the affirmation of their friends and family.  They want everyone else to understand their pain and become dependent on others for their affirmation.

But pain is God's megaphone.  It is meant to draw us closer to him.  One of my favourite quotations is by Helen Keller.  She says, "Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet.  Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved."

The best response we can have when we are hurting is to turn to God.

It is also the hardest response.

It requires us to not ignore and not wallow in pain, but to learn to work through it.  To grow.  To be strengthened.

Post 29: Closing the Door

I love to play the piano.  I have taken lessons since I was six or seven, although they were intermittent (I’m just impressed my Mom was able to find me a teacher no matter where in the NWT we lived).  I do not own a piano, so I really don’t get to play that often.  But we have two at the school I’m currently working at—one in the staff room and one in the foyer.

I am not a great pianist.  I can sight read really well, but throughout the years of lessons I didn’t enjoy the technical aspects as much.  I may be anal about some things (like dishes and the state of my house and the arrangement of our bistro table on our front porch), but other things I am not so anal about.  Like practicing piano.

Playing piano was something I did purely for enjoyment.  It is a means of expressing myself.  My grade twelve year I was thrust into play for church and I continued to do so up until a few years ago.  I always attended churches that were somewhat desperate for musicians, so they were happy to have me.  In the last few years I have either been in a church for too short of a time to bother trying to join a worship team, or I haven’t wanted to because I can acknowledge that I am not that good technically.

Don’t get me wrong, I play with feeling.  And usually when I sit down and start chording it is because I need to express myself to God and words just aren’t cutting it.  I have had some people tell me that when I play the enjoyment and the expression is what comes through.  And it helps them to worship.

But the whole point of this is that I love to express myself through playing, but haven’t had much opportunity to.  This week I have been on our school pianos every morning.

Why?

Because I have needed to go to God and I am tired of going to Him with words and tears.

On Monday night I found out that my maternity leave position was not being continued.  They had decided to only schedule the teacher I was filling in for for the second semester when she will be back.

And that came as a bit of a blow.  It was rough because nothing had been communicated with me.  It was humbling (and who likes to be humbled).  And it just hurt.  I had really been hoping this would continue and was looking forward to working full-time.

So these last few mornings the piano has been my cry.

About a year ago I was in the midst of finishing off teaching and preparing to hop in my car and drive across the country to get married.  It was a terribly exciting time.

It was also a time of grieving.

I was preparing to leave behind family, friends, and an incredible job.  My students were more than my students—they were my kids.  I cared about how they were doing, and was honoured to me a mentor to some. 

We went through a period of time where I could have sworn that at every chapel service at my school we sang the song “Oceans.”  This song became my anthem.  I want to share the words with you.

Verse 1

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

Chorus
And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Verse 2
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now

Chorus
So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Bridge
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

Last Friday we sang this song in our morning assembly and it brought be back to that time.  Of course, last Friday I thought I would have a position next year.  This morning I found myself looking up the chords for the song and it was what I played.

Part of me can laugh.  Between a run-in with tenants, no Hawaii trip, a week where it seemed like nothing I tried with my students was working, the theft of our flower boxes (yes, we woke up Monday morning and someone had stolen our flower boxes off of our porch), and then the realization that I have no full-time work lined up for the fall makes me want to laugh.  Insanity?  Perhaps.

I bawled Monday night when I found out.  Ask my poor husband.  My sister and brother called me instantly to talk about it.  My parents were there for me the next morning, and my mother-in-law was there Tuesday night. 

But today there is peace.  Disappointment.  And hurt.  But peace doesn’t mean an absence of those things.

God has continually been faithful in my life.  He has rarely done things the way that I want them done, but His ideas always turn out better than mine.  Why would this time be any different?

I didn’t rage against Him.  I didn’t even ask Him why.  As we prayed Monday night, Jordan talked about God closing doors and opening others.  He reminded me that something will open up.  And I know that is true.  It might not be what I want right now, and it might be something completely different, but it will be good.

Because God is good.

That hasn’t changed just because things haven’t gone the way I want them to.

Post 28: And Exhale

When I last posted two (or was it three?) weeks ago, I was determined that I was going to start writing consistently again.  And then time sped by.  At this moment all I can think is that in just a few hours the long weekend will begin and that both husband and I could use a rest.

It has been a really good week of teaching, but it has also been a hard week.  Last week my kids participated in a mock trial downtown (which had me pretty stressed out but they blew all the other schools out of the water.  They were pretty incredible.  I would love to take the credit for it, but I'm learning this Law stuff as I go--it was all them!).  This week I had a student ask me in front of the class to change up how I teach.  Which is completely legit.  The problem is when you have tried on multiple occasions to switch things up and your students just don't respond.  I even brought in candy to encourage discussion, and it did almost nothing.  Sometimes you get tired of pushing against a wall and being unable to move it.  I talked to the student later and they completely understood that I had tried to change this in the past.  It is also really hard taking over halfway through a semester.  But the rest of this week has felt fantastic when it came to teaching.  I love my kids, and even the class that I thought would drive me batty has become one of my favourite ones to teach.

I love the sense of justice some of my students have.  I will read a case out to my grade elevens and the outrage they feel at what was done, or how they feel justice was (or was not) carried out is just incredible to see.

My motto for this semester has been "small victories."  And in each of my classes I am able to identify small things that have changed.  Those are the moments and the victories that I hold on to.

But this week has also been just plain exhausting.  Thursday kind of took the cake for stressful days.  After our biggest run-in with our tenants yet, we both felt just drained.  (Back to small victories--they gave us written notice that they are officially leaving partway through the summer, so huzzah for that!).  We decided to relax for the rest of the evening, and finally look into confirming our holiday in Hawaii that I won last year.

I won this trip when purchasing my wedding dress and all my bridesmaids' dresses.  But it was one of those deals where they try to make it as difficult as possible for you to claim it.  Like where we had to pick two dates we wanted to take our trip on, but those dates couldn't be closer than 3 months apart.  So Jordan put down our honeymoon and our one year anniversary.  Two months before the wedding they told us we got to go for our one-year (thank you, Jordan, for being able to plan our honeymoon to Jamaica after that).

Thursday night we went to the website.

The website no longer existed.

We called the number.

The number was no longer in order.

We emailed them.

There was no email in return.

After some research it turned out the company claimed to have gone bankrupt last fall and so it shut down.

So bye-bye, Hawaii.

We handled it really well, I think.  There was just sort of silence in the house as we took it all in.  We both tend to mull things over, so that was what we did.

There's no sense in crying or getting upset, because that isn't going to change what happened.  Getting mad at God because of a cancelled trip or a blow-out with our tenants isn't the answer either.

We had been planning on taking some time before our trip to visit with my family out west.  Jordan suggested that we just take spend our holiday out there instead.  The next day my parents called and suggested the same thing.  So we will get to spend a week with my family (which I am very excited about!).

And now it is the Monday of the long weekend.  And it has been the perfect opportunity to exhale.  We have both slept in, We ran errands that needed to be run.  Today we went for a run to start the day and then demoed the closet upstairs we are planning on turning into a laundry room.

The weather has been glorious.  They had been forecasting rain and instead we have had sun and heat.

Yesterday our pastor preached on "Where is God when I'm suffering?"  As we drove home after church, I commented to Jordan about how I enjoyed the sermon, and it was definitely full of some good stuff.  But the hard part is that when you aren't suffering it is easy to tell yourself these kinds of things.  To remind yourself that God is present in your suffering.  But when you are hurting or your world feels like it is falling apart, those things never seem to be much of a comfort.  At least, no one likes to be told them when they are grieving/hurting.

But I also realized something this weekend.  My typical reaction when something doesn't go according to plan is to wondering why God is screwing things up.  Why He doesn't seem to want to let anything go according to plan.

The thing I noticed is that when our plans began to fall apart for the summer, I didn't rant or rave against God.  True, I was exhausted and probably somewhat numb from all of the experiences that happened, but even with a little time and some much-needed rest, I haven't gotten angry.

Now I'm not saying it is wrong to get upset or even to get angry when you are in the midst of suffering.  The Psalms definitely show a great deal of frustration.  When I think of the raw emotion in CS Lewis' A Grief Observed, I tend to think God is okay with our emotions.  He is God--I don't think He scares that easily.

But I think there is a part of me that, at least with the smaller things in life, is learning to trust God.  To realize that things not going the way I want them to doesn't mean that He is out to get me.

And of course I realize that having said all this the next time something goes wrong I will probably get very upset :)

I feel like this post has been all over the place, and for that I apologize.  In life I find we go through seasons.  There have been times where it feels like emotionally I am very aware of God's presence.  I will go for a walk and feel completely surrounded by Him.  Other times it seems like intellectually I am attuned.  It is as if everything I read points to Him and challenges me.  The last year or so I haven't been able to characterize what my relationship with Him has been like, but I think this weekend I have been better able to.  I think I am in a season of a quiet awareness of Him.  There is a peace and an assurance through anything that is happening (uncertainty over work, the death of a loved one, tenants yelling and calling me names), that God is present.

It is as if I am able to simply exhale.  I can continue to breath and continue to live and can know that no matter what happens, it doesn't change Who God is.  And my feelings don't change whether or  not He is present.

He is.

Post 27: The Musical

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.

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.