It's just a piece of paper...

In less than a month, I will walk across a stage, shake some strangers hand, and pick up a piece of paper that says I have officially received my university degree. In facing deadlines in ordering tickets and such, I emailed a friend to find out for sure what her plans were in either attending or not. When she elegantly wrote back to say the timing is less than ideal and she would have to pass, my response to her was simple: "it's okay; at the end of the day, it's just a piece of paper."

It's true. There is nothing in the world that can even come close to capturing the last six years of my life, and most especially, not a mere piece of paper. It is a piece of paper that will probably never be framed and hung on a wall, rather it will sit, packed nicely in a box, and stored in the corner of my closet. It bears the signature of someone whom I will never, personally meet or have a cup of coffee with. People get all excited about receiving this piece of paper. A three hour ceremony, cap and gown, standing and sitting amongst strangers for an entire afternoon - people I will probably, never see again.

My degree is nothing special. It does not give me more relevant wisdom than the man I sit beside on public transit each morning. It does not qualify me as a better citizen, Christian, or friend. It is not unlike the relationships that fill my life; random text messages or emails sent to a friend in which the relationship is merely a ghost of the life-changing journey that was once traversed. It is a piece of paper containing words that are meaningless unless placed in a specific circumstance, much like the communication exchanged between two people who used to have something in common. And most of all, my degree does not give me the answers to the life-agonizing questions that keep me up at night.

The same way that I will stop investing time and effort and concern into relationships that are going nowhere or in which my effort is met with a mere mumble of meaningless words, I find myself wondering if all the hype and hoopla is required in order to get a piece of paper. Because afterall, when the day is done... it's just a piece of paper.

If I could make you tea

what would I say? What would we chat about? Would I ask you all about heaven and what God really looks like? Would I beg for details on the heavenly choir? Would I ask you who you've met and what you've done? Would I tell you how great you look? How strong and whole you look? Would I ask you if you remember me like I remember you? Would I tell you tale of how I met a boy and how I managed to graduate from University with a 4.0 graduating average? Would we take our tea for a walk? Would you like to stretch your legs or do you get a lot of exercise in heaven? Would I share with you the excitement of learning how to wakeboard, the last Harry Potter movie or the fact that our hockey team is going to win ol' Stanley this year? Would I tell you about my hockey team and how it is shaping up to be the best season yet? Maybe I would tell you about the job that I got and how wonderful the people are that I work with and ask you about your most favourite job?

Would we sit in silence and simply sip our tea, doing nothing more than enjoying each others company once again?

Or would you want to hear about what is really going on and how I'm doing? Would you cut down my "I'm good" with a hearty, "I know you're lying, what is really going on?"? Would I be able to tell you how it sucks because in theory, it should get easier to miss someone. But you, seem to be the exception? Would I share with you how painfully horrid the last year has been because it was mom and dad's 25th wedding anniversary, and when everyone was having a grand ol' time, someone asked about you and where you were? Could I tell you about trying to do everything I could to help Gramma celebrate her 70th birthday without you by her side? Or what about the 50th wedding anniversary that also would have been this year? Would you be open to listening to me cry about all the "what could have beens" over the past 3 years and how, time after time, I screwed them up - with exponentially increasing amounts of mistakes and never learned until after the fact - how incredibly wrong I was, both about myself and the situation?

Whatever the case might be, when the strained tea begins to pour out in our cups signalling the empty pot, I would stop talking. And there I would sit, on the side of the hill, and hug you until you had to go. Because really, that's all that matters. Is that everything else aside, you know that you are loved and missed and thought of often. And in all truth, no one really needs words to express that.

Until the next time, Cheers Grandad!

Thank you Wayne

Following my volunteer experience with the Provincial Summer Olympics, there was a lot going on, including a 25th wedding anniversary, a 70th birthday, and some much (much!) needed time off before summer session started to truly reflect on a number of things. While growing is often painful at the time, here are some of the reflections that came out of the time away.

1) If someone tells you that what you say is held in confidence, don't believe them. If they have to say this to reassure you, it means that they probably are not the person you should trust your heavy heart with.

2) Open your heart enough to receive a hug from a stranger. These are often the most healing hugs in which there are no expectations.

3) Listen carefully to the people that others would ignore at first glance: a Downs Syndrome first baseman can teach you more about love, life, and laughter than any book in the Bible. Listen to the words they speak as much as the words they don't.

4) Write something everyday. Whether it be a card, a song lyric, a word... write down anything that strikes you in some way. If it strikes you, it is meant to be expressed. Express it. You can always reflect on it later... but write it down somewhere before you forget it.

5) Understand that as hard as they try, family and friends will undoubtably let you down. Regardless of how good they are at cards or eating ice cream on a rainy day, the day will come when they forget, don't follow through, or spend too long staring at their own reflection in the mirror. They are human. Accept it because acceptance mellows the pain for when it happens.

6) Trust that you will cause the tears of another person, hopefully unintentionally. You will forget to call or write, be too busy to stop in for tea, or say something that should have remained inside your head. When this happens, and it will, recognize their pain and their need for reconciliation and healing. Respect it. Work on making this a rare occurance.

7) Spending a day in bed in a pool of built up tears is okay. Two days is alright, but three days might be one too many.

8) Give all you've got to everything you do; this includes personal time and rest. If you give 'er everything you've got to everyone you who 'needs' you, you will burn out. Ensure adequate oxygen to that flame. If someone you love is in a state of crisis, God will watch over them until you are rested enough to save them.

9) Make at least one person laugh every single day of your life. If they don't laugh, at least make them smile; hopefully you'll understand the importance of this when the flood is a comin' in your life and laughter is the only lifeboat you can see for miles. Invest in the laughter of others and when the time comes, pray that they will invest the same in you.

10) When it's raining outside, hop in your car or take your umbrella and leave. Drive (or walk) somewhere in the middle of nowhere... no cars, no streetlights, no tires splashing water everywhere. And sit. Just roll down your window and sit. No radio, no talking, no distractions. Just. Listen. Experience. One rain shower is enough to save a farmer's field from grasshoppers and drought, enough to fill a pond with water and give the fish back reassurance that everything will be okay. A rain shower is enough to save a tiny canola plant or stalk of wheat... I guarentee it is enough for you.