I've been typing and pressing backspace in cycles for the last hour. I don't know what to say today. I don't know how to express the memories I have or what they mean to me. I don't know how to invite you into this feeling I have right now.
I want to tell you about walking the slums in Thailand and about a dog named Dan. I want to tell you about the time I let myself just feel pain, emotionally I mean, consciously for perhaps for the first time. If I could, I'd tell you about what God has revealed about my future. I would tell you about the hopelessness I remember when I thought God stopped speaking to me. Wouldn't you love to hear about how God taught me that I need people and I finally got it right? I feel like writing poetry which is what I always do when narrative falls short. But verse without inspiration is rather awkward and so questions and silence is all I have.
Come and sit with me and ponder those far away thoughts that you can't express either. What are those experiences that define who you are so completely that no one else could understand?
At the very least, it's good to remember.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
The world would be a better place if...
This is me and my friend Sherry. Sometimes I think Sherry sees through every single twist and turn on the way to my heart. She knows me so well she can put into words what I'm feeling even when I can't. I don't think I could hide from her even if I wanted to, that's how well she knows and understands me. I met her in March 2007, but we were emailing back and forth a little before that. When we realized we struggled with similar things, we decided to pray and fast together once a week so that we could understand God's heart in the midst of our situations. Our intentionality was so key to the growth we have both experienced in our lives in the last four years.
I remember this one time...we had just finished having a talk with tea, when it started to pour rain outside. Without any hesitation at all, we ran outside and splashed in all the puddles and twirled under the streetlamp in the parking lot. I remember how the rain looked in the orange light and I remember laughing hysterically for a good long time. When we went back inside, we were soaked...I think Sherry might have even ruined those shoes for good. It was a moment of being completely true and honest with ourselves and carefree enough to express what we were feeling. There was something incredibly liberating about that night.
We have lots of memories together, and LOTS of laughing, always. One time I dragged Sherry through the hallway and down the stairs after she made a comment about being able to take me....that'll be the day :)
The thing I love the most about Sherry is that when I'm with her I feel comfortable being me...it's more than that though, I feel like I can't help but be me. She brings the Lory in me out like no one else.
The world would be a better place if everyone had a Sherry.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
A little promise
I think I could listen to John Mayer sing "Heart of Life" over and over for hours. I'm listening to him now and it brings back a million memories. I shared this song with a friend of mine and everytime we needed to run to town to get the mail or go to the bank or something, we would play it in the car on repeat. Then, when we turned onto the road leading home, I would slow the car down to like 20km/h just so we could listen to it longer. It goes like this:
I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears
And listen
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
You know, it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then, circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good
I know it's good
I think I just like the perspective in the song...life is good with your friends, when you share it with someone. People come and go, good things happen, bad things happen, it's all life and as long as you can share those experiences with someone who you love, it's all good. I have kind of an obsession with writing essays about life and how it is ALL of our experiences, no matter how painful or full of joy they are, that make our journey on earth what it is. So this song sums it up for me.
I used to live in community. It's easy to get to know people and let people know you when you live so close together. I'm finding it more difficult to be myself without having people always around who are familiar, I with them and them with me. Life is just better when you can share it. But living in community, I still had to learn how to live transparent and open with people. It took me a couple years to really get it right, I experienced the fruit of thse lessons for a time and then I packed my bags and moved here. I'm starting over again and it's hard sometimes but I know from my past experience, that it's worth fighting for to have relationships with people you can really talk with.
So here's a little promise to myself, that when it gets really hard, I'll push through and step out of my comfort zone and instead of hiding, I'll make an effort to talk to someone, ask them questions and be genuinely interested in their life.
I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears
And listen
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
You know, it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then, circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
Fear is a friend who's misunderstood
But I know the heart of life is good
I know it's good
I think I just like the perspective in the song...life is good with your friends, when you share it with someone. People come and go, good things happen, bad things happen, it's all life and as long as you can share those experiences with someone who you love, it's all good. I have kind of an obsession with writing essays about life and how it is ALL of our experiences, no matter how painful or full of joy they are, that make our journey on earth what it is. So this song sums it up for me.
I used to live in community. It's easy to get to know people and let people know you when you live so close together. I'm finding it more difficult to be myself without having people always around who are familiar, I with them and them with me. Life is just better when you can share it. But living in community, I still had to learn how to live transparent and open with people. It took me a couple years to really get it right, I experienced the fruit of thse lessons for a time and then I packed my bags and moved here. I'm starting over again and it's hard sometimes but I know from my past experience, that it's worth fighting for to have relationships with people you can really talk with.
So here's a little promise to myself, that when it gets really hard, I'll push through and step out of my comfort zone and instead of hiding, I'll make an effort to talk to someone, ask them questions and be genuinely interested in their life.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Random thoughts on today...
It's Saturday. I woke up at 7:30 with a strange inkling to cut my toe nails. Strange indeed. But I did just that and somehow the day already feels productive. After being sick and not accomplishing much...it's nice to know at 7:40am, something has already been achieved; this is how I know I am feeling better.
After that I put on Blue Like Jazz on CD and listened to the wit and brilliance of Donald Miller for an hour before my mom made the trek downstairs to my room and asked me if she needed to wake me up. I thought it was evident that I was already up since Don was talking about his hippy friends that he spent a month with in the bush, but I guess having my head on the pillow and lying in the fetal position threw her off a bit.
The snow has fallen and at last it feels like winter is here. I thought I wanted the snow to stay away as long as possible, but now that it's here, it makes the atmosphere happy. The dullness of brown dead leaves and branches has been covered with the bright newness of sparkly snow. I like it and it makes me want to play my music loudly and dance around the kitchen or bake cookies and deliver them to someone. Isn't it hard to believe that some places don't have snow for Christmas. Australian tradition, so I have heard, is a BBQ on the beach. I can't imagine wearing a bathing suit on Christmas morning but I suppose if that's what you are used to, it could have its charm.
Last year on Christmas morning, I woke up in an orphanage in Thailand with 6 other girls away from home. We found cinnamon sticks at the market so we tried grinding them and then made "cinnamon buns" with white sliced bread and brown sugar. It was a far cry from what my mom usually makes but we pretended it was the greatest thing ever. I remember later that day cooking hot chili peppers over a little fire stove to make a sauce for the Christmas dinner we would have later that evening. The Shan orphan girls sat with me and showed me when to turn the peppers over before they popped and squirted firey juice into the air. Who knew I traded turkey dinner for corragulated blood and chunks of white fat in a bowl of broth. I ate the meal awkwardly with my team, all of us trying to be appreciative. The children who were a family in and of themselves, laughed and ran around and were as joyful as ever. After the meal, they put on a Christmas program for the whole village. Though their situation was more bleak than ours, they had such joy and wanted to share it. Looking back it shames me to remember how hard it was for me. I come from fortunate circumstance and I have God's grace. Some only live with God's grace.
It opened my eyes to see the privilege of a Canadian Christmas and a family to share it with. I'm overjoyed to be home this year in this white wonderland.
After that I put on Blue Like Jazz on CD and listened to the wit and brilliance of Donald Miller for an hour before my mom made the trek downstairs to my room and asked me if she needed to wake me up. I thought it was evident that I was already up since Don was talking about his hippy friends that he spent a month with in the bush, but I guess having my head on the pillow and lying in the fetal position threw her off a bit.
The snow has fallen and at last it feels like winter is here. I thought I wanted the snow to stay away as long as possible, but now that it's here, it makes the atmosphere happy. The dullness of brown dead leaves and branches has been covered with the bright newness of sparkly snow. I like it and it makes me want to play my music loudly and dance around the kitchen or bake cookies and deliver them to someone. Isn't it hard to believe that some places don't have snow for Christmas. Australian tradition, so I have heard, is a BBQ on the beach. I can't imagine wearing a bathing suit on Christmas morning but I suppose if that's what you are used to, it could have its charm.
Last year on Christmas morning, I woke up in an orphanage in Thailand with 6 other girls away from home. We found cinnamon sticks at the market so we tried grinding them and then made "cinnamon buns" with white sliced bread and brown sugar. It was a far cry from what my mom usually makes but we pretended it was the greatest thing ever. I remember later that day cooking hot chili peppers over a little fire stove to make a sauce for the Christmas dinner we would have later that evening. The Shan orphan girls sat with me and showed me when to turn the peppers over before they popped and squirted firey juice into the air. Who knew I traded turkey dinner for corragulated blood and chunks of white fat in a bowl of broth. I ate the meal awkwardly with my team, all of us trying to be appreciative. The children who were a family in and of themselves, laughed and ran around and were as joyful as ever. After the meal, they put on a Christmas program for the whole village. Though their situation was more bleak than ours, they had such joy and wanted to share it. Looking back it shames me to remember how hard it was for me. I come from fortunate circumstance and I have God's grace. Some only live with God's grace.
It opened my eyes to see the privilege of a Canadian Christmas and a family to share it with. I'm overjoyed to be home this year in this white wonderland.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
My head in an airtight container
You know that feeling when your head feels like it's in an airtight container and your arms weigh a million pounds and no matter which way you lie in bed, it still kinda hurts. That's me this week with the very contagious common cold (* Cheers * to you if this explanation makes perfect sense).
I don't know what it is about being sick but somehow the smallest tasks seem so impossible. I was in the middle of making coffee before supper when I just stopped, stood still and stared into space for a good 20 seconds. Then I came back to earth and wondered what the heck I was doing when I left and it took another minute before I filled the carafe with water and dumped it into the coffee machine.
But part of me kind of likes being sick. I like taking it easy and drinking sleepy time tea and not rushing about like a mad woman trying to get a million things done. Not to say this is usually the way I am, but sometimes it is. Maybe I just like feeling pathetic.
One time me and my friend were both going through a rough time and wanted to express ourselves. We maybe got a little too Biblical (is that even possible?!) but we sat on the ground and rubbed dirt all over our heads and clothes...we entertained the thought of ripping our shirts but when you are a female living in community and you don't have a lot of money to spend on new clothes, this isn't the greatest idea. Needless to say we didn't rip our shirts.
You know what I think it is for me--why part of me likes being sick, I mean--I think it's because there are ways to find comfort. A hot bath, lotiony tissues, cough medicine, extended sleep, endless cups of tea, hot water bottle, chicken noodle soup, a little TLC from mom...the list goes on. It's nice to have a comforting solution to the problem in front of you right? But sometimes life is messy and the things that comfort are not solutions and you wonder if there is an easy way out. But there isn't always a way out and sometimes, even if there is, it would be a better thing, a healthier thing, not to give up and to fight it out (comfort or no comfort). I didn't realize this was where I was going when I first started writing about being sick (once again * cheers * to you if this explanation makes perfect sense); leave it to the writer in me to turn anything into a metaphor. But there it is.
Does anyone really have an easy life though? Isn't there always something hard or difficult that we go through, whether we face up to it or not, it's still there. Or maybe this is a cynical thought based on my current situation in life. Maybe its like when I have this cold and some things seem impossibe. Maybe from my current experience right now, feeling like things are all okay just seems impossible. I don't say this to invoke pity on my behalf or even to relish in the pathetic. I just want to express honestly how I feel, because when life goes down this way, perhaps the healthiest and most comforting way to deal with it, is to express it.
Think on that while I grab a tissue for my runny nose...
I don't know what it is about being sick but somehow the smallest tasks seem so impossible. I was in the middle of making coffee before supper when I just stopped, stood still and stared into space for a good 20 seconds. Then I came back to earth and wondered what the heck I was doing when I left and it took another minute before I filled the carafe with water and dumped it into the coffee machine.
But part of me kind of likes being sick. I like taking it easy and drinking sleepy time tea and not rushing about like a mad woman trying to get a million things done. Not to say this is usually the way I am, but sometimes it is. Maybe I just like feeling pathetic.
One time me and my friend were both going through a rough time and wanted to express ourselves. We maybe got a little too Biblical (is that even possible?!) but we sat on the ground and rubbed dirt all over our heads and clothes...we entertained the thought of ripping our shirts but when you are a female living in community and you don't have a lot of money to spend on new clothes, this isn't the greatest idea. Needless to say we didn't rip our shirts.
You know what I think it is for me--why part of me likes being sick, I mean--I think it's because there are ways to find comfort. A hot bath, lotiony tissues, cough medicine, extended sleep, endless cups of tea, hot water bottle, chicken noodle soup, a little TLC from mom...the list goes on. It's nice to have a comforting solution to the problem in front of you right? But sometimes life is messy and the things that comfort are not solutions and you wonder if there is an easy way out. But there isn't always a way out and sometimes, even if there is, it would be a better thing, a healthier thing, not to give up and to fight it out (comfort or no comfort). I didn't realize this was where I was going when I first started writing about being sick (once again * cheers * to you if this explanation makes perfect sense); leave it to the writer in me to turn anything into a metaphor. But there it is.
Does anyone really have an easy life though? Isn't there always something hard or difficult that we go through, whether we face up to it or not, it's still there. Or maybe this is a cynical thought based on my current situation in life. Maybe its like when I have this cold and some things seem impossibe. Maybe from my current experience right now, feeling like things are all okay just seems impossible. I don't say this to invoke pity on my behalf or even to relish in the pathetic. I just want to express honestly how I feel, because when life goes down this way, perhaps the healthiest and most comforting way to deal with it, is to express it.
Think on that while I grab a tissue for my runny nose...
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Looking for Jesus
I watched this video at small group tonight:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCMoN-a3CCs&feature=BF&list=PL14EB20318E94290E&index=3
It's traditional Jesus in his white robes and blue sash, traditional Jesus with long wavy hair and a beard...but there's something about the way Jesus is portrayed in this video, smiling and laughing, confusing his friends and talking about his Father. He seems so real it makes me think about the fact that Jesus was actually here...on earth I mean. He walked in the sand and he touched people, he laughed and went to parties and he cried with his friends. He comforted people going through hard times and he spoke truth to those who would listen and he really loved people. And then he died like one of us...and that was real too.
My favorite part in this little video was when Mary, Lazarus' sister, sees Jesus coming and she runs desperately to him and falls at his feet. It touched me because I realized that Jesus is still here and I can still run to him like she did. When the world doesn't make sense, when relationships get complicated, when I'm tired and lost...Jesus is there waiting for me to run to him. I can't help but picture him when I finally meet him physically in heaven. I think he'll smile and be teary eyed and passionate and when he looks at me, I just know that my doubts and fears and everything else will melt away and all that will remain is him. Just Jesus. That's the only thing that matters.
I want to find Jesus in my life here. Sometimes I see him when I look at the stars, sometimes I see him when I sing in the car and other times I see him when I talk to people about what they're passionate about. I see Jesus moving and working and being when I look for him. I want to seek him out like Mary, in desperation. I want to find him and let him look me in the face and tell me whatever it is I need to hear. I want to have coffee with him in the morning and tell him how my day went before I go to sleep. I want to bump into him at work and introduce him to my friends. But it'll be a lot easier to find Jesus and do these things if I'm waiting for him, expecting him. I want to look for him because he promised me:
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all of your heart.
Jer 29:13
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCMoN-a3CCs&feature=BF&list=PL14EB20318E94290E&index=3
It's traditional Jesus in his white robes and blue sash, traditional Jesus with long wavy hair and a beard...but there's something about the way Jesus is portrayed in this video, smiling and laughing, confusing his friends and talking about his Father. He seems so real it makes me think about the fact that Jesus was actually here...on earth I mean. He walked in the sand and he touched people, he laughed and went to parties and he cried with his friends. He comforted people going through hard times and he spoke truth to those who would listen and he really loved people. And then he died like one of us...and that was real too.
My favorite part in this little video was when Mary, Lazarus' sister, sees Jesus coming and she runs desperately to him and falls at his feet. It touched me because I realized that Jesus is still here and I can still run to him like she did. When the world doesn't make sense, when relationships get complicated, when I'm tired and lost...Jesus is there waiting for me to run to him. I can't help but picture him when I finally meet him physically in heaven. I think he'll smile and be teary eyed and passionate and when he looks at me, I just know that my doubts and fears and everything else will melt away and all that will remain is him. Just Jesus. That's the only thing that matters.
I want to find Jesus in my life here. Sometimes I see him when I look at the stars, sometimes I see him when I sing in the car and other times I see him when I talk to people about what they're passionate about. I see Jesus moving and working and being when I look for him. I want to seek him out like Mary, in desperation. I want to find him and let him look me in the face and tell me whatever it is I need to hear. I want to have coffee with him in the morning and tell him how my day went before I go to sleep. I want to bump into him at work and introduce him to my friends. But it'll be a lot easier to find Jesus and do these things if I'm waiting for him, expecting him. I want to look for him because he promised me:
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all of your heart.
Jer 29:13
Saturday, November 13, 2010
100km/h to no where
They repaved the long stretch of highway between my house and where my sister lives with her husband. I drove home late tonight after visiting them and the road was so black that, except for the spotted yellow line, it seemed I was driving 100km/h to no where. I flickered around with the radio station and decided on country music after finding that my favorite station, which usually plays jazz, made the unfortunate decision to go techno. After a while I turned off the noise altogether; I wasn't terribly exhausted, I could stay awake and use the silence to think. There's been a part of me missing lately. I know because I'm not happy like I used to be. I don't have the same positive outlook and I'm not contagiously joyful like people used to say I am. My muscles in my shoulders get tight and I constantly have to remind my limbs to relax in their place. I used to wake up every morning and make myself coffee at 6:30am. Then I'd find a quiet spot and stare outside as the sun came up, or as the dew dripped of blades of grass. And I would pray. I would rewrite the psalms that David wrote and be so invigorated by the truth of the words. I would tell God that the day was his and that I wanted to live it by his wisdom. I would sit with Jesus and remember how much he loves me. I would then live the rest of the day with joy. I would be the hugbug and make sure people knew they were seen and loved. I would pray with people after we shared mutually about how life has been lately. I would work hard and be dedicated.
I don't think God is angry with me. I don't think he is disappointed in the decisions I've made lately...but I think he misses me and our talks together. I think I do too. I think I need to settle in here. My transition from community living to my parents doorstep is quite a change. I didn't grow up here. I don't feel those deep bonds with anyone just yet. I feel a little like I'm living out of a mental suitcase: unsettled, messy, temporary? I don't know what God has in store for me here. But driving home into that nothingness tonight made me want to unpack, to feel like I was actually going somewhere...home even. I know I need to stop making excuses about how hard it is for me right now, how other people should make the effort and reach out to me. This happens quite a lot, people reaching out I mean. But then I never really feel like I'm giving back. I want to contribute. I want to feel like there is mutual exchange. I want to wake up in the morning and take the time to see beauty before going into a world where ugly things happen. I guess I'm writing this because I want to move forward and accept my circumstances. It won't be a walk in the park, but the sooner I sort through that mental suitcase and create places for each item in it, the sooner I will feel like this is home.
I don't think God is angry with me. I don't think he is disappointed in the decisions I've made lately...but I think he misses me and our talks together. I think I do too. I think I need to settle in here. My transition from community living to my parents doorstep is quite a change. I didn't grow up here. I don't feel those deep bonds with anyone just yet. I feel a little like I'm living out of a mental suitcase: unsettled, messy, temporary? I don't know what God has in store for me here. But driving home into that nothingness tonight made me want to unpack, to feel like I was actually going somewhere...home even. I know I need to stop making excuses about how hard it is for me right now, how other people should make the effort and reach out to me. This happens quite a lot, people reaching out I mean. But then I never really feel like I'm giving back. I want to contribute. I want to feel like there is mutual exchange. I want to wake up in the morning and take the time to see beauty before going into a world where ugly things happen. I guess I'm writing this because I want to move forward and accept my circumstances. It won't be a walk in the park, but the sooner I sort through that mental suitcase and create places for each item in it, the sooner I will feel like this is home.
The begining of a new thing
I am always afraid of the blank page in a new journal. To just start writing something is not easy. I write the first word not knowing where that initial sentence will take me. Here too, I begin. May the journey be honest and those that join it, understanding.
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