When you are looking here... it's happening there...

Okay, I admit.

It is a super lame title for a chapter. Let's see you come up with something more creative than that after a full day of studying ob-gyn and community health. Ugh.

So... this summarizes my life to a tee...

I am house-sitting a dog for friends of mine and I return home from a long day at school to the foul smell of dried dog-piss. Worst. Smell. Ever! Some people will say that nothing is worse than the smell of brussel sprouts, but they lie. Tell them to look after a poorly trained puppy and then they will understand that nothing really beats that smell on the foul-scale.

Anyway... house-sitting a dog. That was the point of the story... not the smell thing.

So I take the dog's mat outside into the backyard when I let the dog out. Standing the mat against the fire pit in their backyard, I get the hose and spray the living snots out of that stupid mat in hopes that the smell would leave. After spraying it for an extended (!!) amount of time, I leave it propped by the fire pit and run back into the house to scrub the kennel down. This smell has GOT to go! However, I was so focused on scrubbing the smell out, I forgot to watch the mat and dog in the backyard. Needless to say, this severely untrained puppy took the wet mat and dug a hole in the backyard and proceeded to BURY THE MAT! So, now I had to re-wash the mat, wash the dog, ANNNNND fill a giant hole.

The same is true internally. I was so focused on the fact that these two years would be a time of spiritual seeking and reconciling and while I was giving that my full attention, I failed to see how other aspects of my life were starting to heal up.

Two years into my first undergraduate degree, my naive and positive outlook on life was violently shattered. Fast forward through some hospitalizations, panic attacks, and months of counselling and I would have sworn that I was "good to go!"

However, then as a requirement for this undergraduate program, I found out that I was required to do an ob-gyn, maternity, post partum rotation. I did everything I could (EEEEEVERYTHING) I could to get out of having to do this rotation. I contacted the course lead and begged to do my entire rotation in post partum, working with newborn babies... the answer was a bold-type NO. I asked my post partum tutor if I could do the duration of my assignment with infants rather than labouring moms and again, the answer was... NO. Though, the tutor actually laughed a little before she said no. I visited my wonderful family doctor and requested a doctor's note to excuse me from this rotation for "religious reasons". Her initial reaction was just laughter. I guess I have a way of sounding funny when I'm really worked up?

My family doctor actually did come 'round once she knew my reasons for wanting to avoid the placement, truly giving me the choice of whether or not to go through with the rotation. In her best wisdom, she helped me figure out what the pros/cons were to both doing or neglecting the placement and then willingly wrote a doctors note to excuse me from having to witness any births and sent me on my way with Ativan.

To my surprise, once I finished up the post partum portion of the placement and transferred over to the screaming moms in agony, the labour-tutor was incredibly understanding as well. Our discussion went something like,

"I really, really, reeeeeally don't want to be here"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make your time here manageable?"

"Let me go to the pre-term unit and play with pre-term babies all day?"

"Not until you see a birth. It is actually a beautiful thing. Don't you want to have kids one day?"

"Heeeeeeeeeeeello adoption!"

She thought that I was "genuinely humourous" and literally walked me through the process as best she could. Together, we chose a woman who was labouring with her fourth child. When it came time for this patient to push, she pushed for a grand total of 3 minutes and 21 seconds. At which point, I happily excused myself and went to spend the last portion of my placement in the nursery.

But the weirdest thing came of my experience at the hospital. Aside from deciding with certainty that I would NEVER have kids of my own, I began to feel as though I could conquer the world. Really, as lame as it sounds, I had just overcome that which previously, scared me to the point of not sleeping, not keeping food in, and not really breathing. I most certainly did not execute myself in perfect form or with the utmost grace, but I did it! It was not tear-less, anxiety-less, or sarcasm-less, but it also was not me-less.

From there, I had the courage to somehow follow through with one of my assignments to follow a midwife around for a clinical day. I swear it is only by the utter grace of God that I, one student among 70-0dd students, am selected for a midwifery experience rather than any of the other long list of possible experiences. There, I spent 11 hours learning that the hospital way is not the only way and that there are humane experiences of pregnancy. 11 hours in which I was not forcing healing to happen, and yet... it was. Just learning the fact that contrary to the hospital pathway, particular patient histories do not always necessitate cesarean sections and that the pregnant couple have full power of decision making, not un-involved physicians who get paid more for 'complicated delivery procedures' was enough to perpetuate healing.

Aaaaaand, as if that wasn't enough of a step forward, yesterday found myself sitting at the University Health Services awaiting an 'initial intake' with a psychologist. Unlike this time last year, I was actually able to articulate three 'priority needs' for the 12-sessions I am entitled to as a student. Granted, my second and third priority and reason for seeking psychological services both had "related to number one" written beside it, this is both huge and awesome!

Finally, as a true testament to the grand improvements that seem to be happening in life, I was able to attend not one, but two massage therapy appointments in the past three weeks. While these appointments would be heavenly relaxation to most, being able to trust someone enough to be able to lay on my stomach, having severely limited vision because of having to put one's face in that stupid face-toilet-bowl-shaped-thing, while the almost-complete-stranger makes physical contact with the clothes-limited me... is... exciting beyond words!

For those who know me even slightly, they know that this last step is truly reflective of the inner healing that has already started. Seeds that were planted in this heart of dirt over these past two years are now sprouting through the black soil in search of the sunlight warmth. I only have a mere 6 months left in the program, but that is more than enough time in my humble opinion, to continue on this journey. And, as I said to someone today, even if I never actually nurse a day in life (I *will* nurse, but if I never got the chance to), I now understand why I embarked upon this particular journey almost two years ago.

So, while I was busy trying to scrub the smell out of this spiritual kennel of mine, the healing was continuing to grow in my flower pot. The seeds that were planted over the years by nursing instructors who claimed that my brick walls were too high and suggested some level of psychotherapy... those incredibly loving people who let me hang out and play music with them every now and again without any church requirements, constantly reminding me of the fact that I am loved for who I am and where I am on this journey...those people who remind me all the time that ultimately - I just need to be me. Me, the genuinely humourous child who needs the reminder to water the plant every now and again.

Crazy how that works, isn't it? I should know by now that things never really happen how we plan them out to, but rather - they happen when we least expect them, don't feel ready or worthy of them, and when we have the inner strength to laugh at the pure irony and coincidence of the timing of them.

Life vs the Fog

It is not a large picture. It does not need to be. Everyone can relate to that feeling of helpless lostness when travelling through a foggy patch. I was reminded of this in a very tangible way as I was on my way home from hockey tonight/this morning (our ice time was at 11pm so I arrived home around 1 in the morning).

For drivers (around here anyways), driving in fog requires the perfect balance between driving with a sense of confidence and competence, and tentative caution. Realistically, one could hit a deer or moose and be in serious trouble at any point along the familiar stretch of road and with heavy fog, it is impossible to see anything until it is right in front of you... when it is often much to late to react safely. The same is true for cars or other hazards. A car may have applied their brakes in plenty of time, have properly indicated they are turning and yet... as the car behind them, one has no idea until they are literally feet behind the virtually stopped car.

However, for ones own safety, it is best to drive faster than a snails pace so as to not be rear ended by the over zealous truck that is screaming down the highway. Often, the fog will not lift or disperse if you drive slower... and the flip side to driving a relatively safe and quick pace is that one is through the worst of the fog within seconds and back to being able to drive safely with 100% visibility.

Funny how often life is manifest in the weather situation, do you not agree? How there are always going to be some moments in life in which, momentarily and short term - the answer seems to be that we ought to just stop. Pull over to the side of the road, maybe wait until mid morning for the fog to burn off before continuing on our way. There will most definitely always be those moments in life in which we can not see how many fingers we are holding up, let alone where to turn, where to run, where to hide, where to venture, where to conquer. Those moments in which we are truly overtaken by circumstances beyond our control.

The only challenge that the life/fog paradox poses is that with fog, even an elementary child could point out that the sun will eventually come out and burn through the lower level of cloud or after a certain period of time, the fog will truly lift and no longer be an issue. This is a proven, scientific fact. We know "x" will happen because "y, d, a and n" happened. But with life, the story is different. We don't know what the variables "y, d, a, and n" truly are. Nor do we have the insight to "guesstimate" whether or not "x" is even possible.

Someone should work on changing that sometime soon. Just sayin'...

An odd day

... and I'm still in bed.

It was a long night with very little sleep happening and while I cannot comment in detail, the summary sounds something like this.

Yesterday, I had two hours of training for an exam that I am working at the end of the month and while this would normally cause me to be absolutely ecstatic (and doubly so as the race car driving friend was DOING the training), it was an immense struggle. Because life happens, I had not looked over the material as well as I should have, even the intelligent questions that I had about it were asked all whilst still sounding stupid, and I even flubbed up one of the easier questions I was asked over that two hour span.

Then, while at work, the young man that I work with had asked if he could put his phone number and coinciding picture in my phone in case I was ever going to be late, (or whatever) and then I could call and let him know. Thinking this was a totally reasonable request, I did not even hesitate to pass my phone over. He was playing around with it as we drove the 30 minutes to our destination, not giving it back to me until we arrived to where we were going and he got sidetracked with catching up with old friends. Totally ok. However, as I was dropping him back off at home, he began apologizing and told me that he may have forgot to hang up from a call or two when he was looking through the contact list.

Sure enough, checking my "who did I call" list, I came across two individuals in my contact list that I had not called personally and whose calls lasted upward to 10 minutes in duration (presumably, this was the point in which their answering machine cut my phone off). Completely embarrassed and apologetic for potentially using up their mailbox, impacting their day, and the like... I called them both back immediately, apologizing for what had happened.

Then, last night on the way to hockey, there I am.... driving down the highway into the city when I start crying. There was no valid reason. I assure you. Rather, I was told by siblings that my car drew the short stick and would need to be parked outside that night so that they didn't have to get up and scrape their windows. For whatever reason, I felt the need to cry.

While at hockey, was defending our goalie in our end of the ice, when some large man from the opposing team came plouging into me from behind. This is, as you know hockey fans, illegal. After an NHL player got his neck snapped because of a hit from behind, this move is enough to earn you an immediate removal from the game as well as a review from the league in which you play. However, the referee felt that this hit did not even warrant a whistle and completely outraged, I first went after the player and then the referee. At which point, there was a game misconduct awarded, but not to the other man, but myself.

For what's it worth, I hate Oct. 7th. Three years ago yesterday marked the day I lost my grandfather and one year ago yesterday marked the day I got a phone call from across the country and seminary life as I knew it, was done.

Sigh.

Today is a day of trying to move forward and find tiny things in life to celebrate - like the fact that it is snowing outside. However, I think that the best way to accomplish that would be to pull the guitar, tune 'er up, and to sing the song that I wrote for a man who deserves to be remembered. Today just as much as yesterday and tomorrow.

What else can be done?

I once had a mentor and friend who used the phrase, "it'll plague me to my grave" to describe those undesirable, untalkable things in life that daily challenged her.

We all have that list of things that, regardless of what we do, will haunt our days until the day we die.

One of mine is the ridiculous, unfounded desire to please people in my life.

The habit is an unhealthy one and while I can recognize this basic fact - it is a behaviour that is insanely difficult to stop participating in.

I agree to meet people who repeatidly stand me up. I get all excited and psyched up to finally see them and catch up. At one point, we were as close as sisters could ever be. Now - I don't even know where we stand. I think I've seen this person twice in the last 8 months. We make plans, arranage the details, I clear my schedule... and they don't show. I sometimes wonder if it would be easier to just cut the loss and walk away, give up, refrain from putting myself in that situation on future occassions. Yet, when they send a public, somewhat sarcastic message about finally meeting up, my desire to please their request grows and I respond - placing myself in the vicious circle once again.

On other occassions, the innate "big sister" in me leads me to opening up in most intimate fashion either spiritually or emotionally (neither of which I am extremely comfortable with) to someone in order to pass on some, remotely related piece of life experience that might help in the situation of a close friend. In the desire to please this person, I go above and beyond what would be considered the norm. Kills me. One email or phone conversation at a time. The serious lack of response on their end is a toxin.

Slowly, I'm learning. As immature as it might sound to some, I make plans with the first individual in a public, busy place so that I may always have proof that I held our plans and showed up, but that no one ever joined me. I work to find the silver lining: a bit of individual time with a cup of tea is not the end of the world every now and again. With others, I am learning that I should not hold my breath for promised updates - when they want to fill me in, they will and their lack of updating should not be a reflection on who I am, but who they are. I am learning that emailing while they are at work, while convienient and possibly desirable for them, usually leads to frustration, hurt feelings, and a series of pointless wonderings on my part.

Contrary to the teachings, I am learning to take the approach of an eye for an eye: if someone wishes to see life from the position of my eyes, they have to be willing to enlighten me from their eye colour first. In order to take, there must be give. From my viewpoint, in the grand universe scheme of things, I deserve to take and not simply give in the give and take spectrum of life.

Maybe I'm just tired, whiney, or downright cranky, but realistically - I'm trying to level some relationships in life - something that has to be done if I am to survive the craziness. Notions of sarcasm and "fairness" only go so far. After that, what else can be done? Bring on the ritual sacrifice of eyes, ears, and any other dual body part we have!

My fingers are numb...

I was always taught when growing up, that if the world ever gave you something that stirred that urge inside of you to punch something/someone else, reach for an ice cube.

Well, my fingers are number than numb, so what I'm trying to say is that any spelling errors I make, are not my fault.

My fingers are numb because I am upset about the human condition and how people have been trained to respond to tragedy by saying, "I'm sorry...." I understand that there is a certain level of empathy at play here, whereby the other person is acknowledging the pain of a situation by potentially apologizing for the fact that life sucks. I get that.

But honestly, it is THEE most unhelpful, pointless, mundane, ambivilent phrase in the English language. Those two cursed words should be reserved for apologies and apologies only, where you are at fault for something and you are remorseful. And, as a huge introvert who likes to ponder the shit out of every little thing, I would rather hear "Wanna talk?" than "I'm sorry". Seriously. Because I would be more open to talking through how much life sucks and hearing their honest, unreserved account of why life either sucks or it doesn't than to hear that they are "sorry" for some random misfortune that they had absolutely no part in.

I don't know... maybe I'm just upset because on a night where I need to talk the days events out, the two people I turn to, immediately drop the "I'm sorry" bomb on the conversation as if it will make everything better. Or, maybe it's true... maybe "I'm sorry" is a phrase that is abused in our lexicon and we need to work on changing this.

Up to you. I'll supply the ice cubes.

Moments that make you think, "ah... schiza!"

Do you ever have those moments in which time seems to freeze, and this horrible feeling comes over you and the voice inside your head says, "wow... this is clearly something we need to work on!" ? Like when you slave over a wonderful supper and the family sits at the table, scrunch their noses, and ask if there are hot dogs they can microwave instead? Or when you are walking down a busy street/sidewalk and you play "dodge the same way as other person" for awhile, where you are both trying to move out of the other persons way, but both dodging the same direction? They are moments that can never be predicted and often leave you reflecting for some time afterwards.

I had one of those moments today.

I was having iced coffee with a friend and catching up on what we had missed in each others lives over the last two months when she got up to use the washroom. Checking my phone for the time, there was a notification saying that I had received a text message. Opening the phone, I discovered it was from a fellow hockey player and support/pillar friend from the seminary town I had left earlier this year checking to see how I was treating life and how it was treating me.

And then... time froze.

Except the voice inside my head was telling me that I really need to work on saying good-bye.

I hate it. I know that Oma always used to say that "hate" is a word I should never use because "hate" was something that the Nazi's did and it was wrong, but I think I have proper justification for putting "saying goodbye" and the Nazi's on the same vocabulary page. Honestly, realistically, what are the odds of ever seeing these people again?

Maybe I just need to spend some more time in thanksgiving for the place of this text-message-sender in my life and the critical timeline in which they entered and maybe I'll discover that I'm just being selfish for wanting them to stay here longer rather than moving half way across the world in the name of vocation and ministry. Perhaps I find out that her place in my life was to pull a lost soul out of a pile of rubble, dust it off, and take it one step closer to the mighty altar of life and that her job is done now.

But realistically, instead, I sit struggling with trying to understand how someone who truly had no reason to care, did; how someone who could have been doing a million other things, paused and checked in. I stare blankly at a card I picked up months ago, struggling to understand how our language can fill an entire dictionary and yet, not be able to adequately capture the impact of the one sentence, shared in a single moment in the Dean's office, brought me here... now.

Ugh. Clearly, as the pattern is quickly showing me, this is a lesson that I need to learn immediately: how to say 'God-speed' to someone I care about deeply. At the rate that these pillars of solid foundation are leaving in various directions, I very well may not acquire this skill in time to say 'safe journey, much love, write often' to any of them.

Stupid moments of, "you really ought to practice doing......"; these moments are really crampin' my style, not to mention my spirit.

The fire is a ragin'

I have tried watching a movie on the lowest volume, reading, and trying to think things through - however, nothing seems to be working.  I am attempting to slow my mind down to a pace which is suitable for sleep once again and clearly failing miserably.  

Have you ever been woken up abruptly by teary dream?  The kind of dream that literally has you crying and when you wake, your heart is racing, your cheeks and pillow are completely wet, and you feel more exhausted than when your eyes shut the first time?  It doesn't happen all that often, but every once in awhile, there are nights like tonight.  Nights where I wake up, in the middle of a fit of tears, almost feeling like the current state of dismal outside.  

We are currently experiencing a number of "close to home", out of control grass fires.  The skies constantly are dark because of the smoke and out here on the farm, we are currently surrounded by three local counties who have declared states of emergency (including our own county).  The smoke is so heavy, it is literally hard to breathe and the inhaler is kept in the back pocket for easy and frequent access.  It's hard to know which way to turn at a rarely encountered intersection because some road signs are actually unreadable with the copious amounts of smoke.  And, naturally, so many local roads are closed that it's impossible to keep up with the updates.  Often, on trying to find a route home, one encounters barricades, a fire crew or local volunteers stationed in such a way that strikes panic and forces "on the feet" thinking to find another route.  

It is the times in life when life itself is in a "fire" situation, that I have the exhausting, teary dreams.  When the barricades appear to be blocking my desired route of required travel, I require aids to continue breathing, and when the smoke and smog is so thick and unbearable - it brings about concern and frustration at the same damn time.  

I will admit to the fact that a fire has been burning in my life for quite some time now, but up until a few days ago, I honestly felt as though it was being battled and declared "in control"... but clearly the winds have changed, picked up, and caused havoc!  

While I continue to reflect on the "winds of change" that are present and blowing ever so.... "lovely" (good thing it's sarcastic Wednesday!), for lack of wanting to cause offense, say something I might later regret, or further spread the fire in any way, I will just say this.  

"Dear Changing Winds, 

I trust you.  I trust you as much as an exhausted firefighter who refuses to leave the post, can trust at a time like this.  No more... and no less and this is actually in your control.  I trust that you are blowing where you need to blow and pushing the fire in the direction  you subconsciously know is best.  I also trust that you are unstoppable in that I can never "stop" or "capture" the wind, only respond appropriately to God's element.  However, please, please, please... I wish you could do something, (ANYTHING!) to give me a heads up warning on where you are going and blowing so that I can be prepared.  For it is a struggle to trust and follow where you go when it is without warning or when your direction seems in so many ways at once.  

That is all. 

Signed, 

Your Chief Firefighter"

Welcome to Alberta!

The "stupid landlocked province"!!  So, Miss Sunshine arrived to a local temperature of -24 Celsius (it's slightly warmer in the nearest city, but still much colder than the -8 that she left this afternoon).  The province where we try and protect our property to the extreme!

Ha ha ha ha ha... so, this will go down in the books as the greatest "first night in a new province" ever!  On the way home from the airport, we were driving along a familiar gravel road, when I notice that two (not one, but TWO) cars are parked in our field (aka, private property).  One car with it's lights on, and one... well... with a little "mood lighting". 

Miss Sunshine rolls down her window, I turn down the music, and to the fancy, red, (paid for by selling drugs) sports car, I say:

"Can I help you with something?  Are you lost?"

"No, we are just hanging out"

"Well, unfortunately sir, you need to find somewhere else to hang out as this is private property"

"You own the side of the road?"

"No, I don't.  We own the field that your car is sitting in though sir, so if you will kindly..."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Would you like me to call the RCMP and they can charge you with trespassing?"

"Oh yeah... go ahead!"

(picks up cell phone and dials number for the farm, without pushing send, as the car speeds off down the gravel road - with the huge inconvenience of finding a new meeting place to sell their illegal drugs).

To the other car with "mood lighting", I simply backed up, put my lights onto their license plate and we copied it down. Upon arriving home, I explained that there were two more vehicles in our field.  Farming Dad, quite upset, goes to start his truck.  Racing back into the house, he grabs a flashlight, his cell phone (in case of trouble), and his big winter boots.  This is the story he shared upon getting home a few minutes later...

"I didn't know if anyone was actually in the car - all the lights were off and it wasn't running"

"So... what did you do?  Knock on the window?"

"Nope.  I tried to open the door" 

(Most people leave their vehicles unlocked here in farming country, especially of Farming Dad's Generation)

"Ha ha ha ha ha... um... did it open?"

"Well no, but when I tried the handle, the lights inside the car came on.  There were two VERY startled kids in the backseat.  The young boy opened the window slightly, at which time I explained to him that he was actually parked on private property.  He was pretty embarrassed, so I told 'em - the parking rates are $10 a minute, so you hurry up... and then we'll settle up."

"Um... Dad?"

"They weren't there very long; there goes another high school graduate expecting her first in November!"

Aw man, I love Farming Dad to bits, but of all the things for Miss Sunshine to experience as her first and lasting impression of Alberta... there could have been slightly more... um... G-rated impressions!!  :D  Good times!