God's Altar Cloth

I had a very wise friend who loved to knit. She would knit tea cozy's, afghans, dish clothes, blankets... you name it, she could probably knit it. I remember watching her in a daze-like state wondering how someone could be so swift and gentle with their hands... never ceasing the loop, pull, crossover maneuvers that resulted in a glorious pattern of wool. I guess my watching her distracted her from what she was doing and she missed a stitch. Carefully pulling her needle out from the row she was working on, she began to tug the line of wool and watch as the stitches slowly undid themselves, one by one. And when she had reached the place where the mistake had happened, she gracefully slipped her needle back in and continued on.

I was astonished that she could do such a thing. I was under the impression that when a mistake happened, you had to go all the way back to the beginning and start fresh. When I built up enough courage to ask her why this was not the case, her response threw me for a loop and I've never really forgotten it.

She told me about how knitting was like life - it is a series of choices and movements we make as a human being. We all have the same starting point - we are all just a mere knot on a stick... but it's where we go from there and how we dance our dance that determines what our blanket will eventually look like. Regardless of how hard we try, we will occasionally drop a stitch or force a new one where there shouldn't be and sometimes we can go back and fix it. Other times, our "extra" move simply means that we end up with an extra stitch - an extra loop, an extra step to take each time.

This all seemed okay and made sense but then I asked her why she chose to go back and try and fix her mistake rather than just leaving it be. Surely one extra stitch was not going to make a world of difference.

She told me that when she made the mistake, it was because she lost a stitch. A loop fell off the needle and was laying limp in between two knitted stitches... and this couldn't be.

Sometimes in life, we miss a step. We are in a hurry to get from A to B or we don't feel that it's a step of crucial importance, but when we think like this, we are wrong. If that dropped stitch were to just be left alone, it may be okay, but alternatively, it may cause our creation to fall apart - to be pulled and unraveled and become nothing more than a heap of kinked wool. We must go back and pick it up and carry on because if we aren't careful, we will drop more stitches and there will just be more damage in the end.

Funny how, years later, her words are only now starting to make sense.

There are days in which I wish I could drop the past and leave it be. Days that I wish I could just start a new education and carry on with my life rather than going back all those rows to pick up that lost stitch... it would mean I would have to undo so many stitches...

But what I have only now realized is that I can't leave those dropped loops hanging in the middle of my afghan... they require my attention so as to one day, truly have the most beautiful blanket to lay upon the altar of God.

I thought each stitch was independent of the stitch beside it, above it, rows beyond it... but it's not - they are all from the same pile of wool. The further I go on this journey of discernment and healing, the more I come to understand how the stitches from years ago are truly interconnected with the stitches I am stitching now. Kind of mind boggling, but oddly reassuring.

Ultimately, my goal is to knit the most elegant and incredibly awesome altar cloth with my pile of wool I was entrusted. And the reality is that in order to do so, it means going back and picking up those dropped stitches, and pulling them back into the fabric. Because if I don't, not only do I risk a catastrophic unraveling, but I risk a finished product that is truly not reflective of the gifts and dreams I was entrusted with at my baptism.

So, to those stitches who have been knit into my cloth recently, bear with me. Please remind me that you are still part of the wool and I will pick you up again when I get there. To those stitches who have been waiting patiently for our paths to cross, hang tight. They will some day soon. And to those stitches who were dropped along the way, take heart, cry out for I am coming back to pick you up and tie you into where you belong. You will not be lost for long, I am coming.

A New Start: Lent, as defined by my terms.

Well, it has been a jello week; you know, the kind of week that barely seems to hold together long enough for you to reach the end? The kind of week that, if you're not careful, will jiggle out of your control and stain the white carpeted floor? You get the point. Over the past week, I have been told in just about every way that someone could be told - that doing some reflective reading, quiet contemplation and attending a worship service - is simply "not enough" to mark a fresh start and a long journey back to the path of the righteous.

In lay men's terms, the message is this: "Look, you screwed up. It's going to take a lot more than miniscule efforts to make things right."

Rrrrrrright. Well, at first my thought was that the Lenten season would be the ideal time to start the process, however... I clearly got the start date wrong. It's what track athletes call the "false start". To be honest, I'm not sure if I got the timing wrong or the lane wrong. I'm thinking it was the lane. What I mean to say, is that maybe it was wrong of me to think that I could just quietly attend weekly, evening worship and slowly start to build up the courage to talk to people. I thought that my ducks were lined up and that after hiding in a hole for a year and bit, things would have blown over. Or, at least enough so that I would have a chance to let the roots grow into the ground before the wind decided to blow.

Uhhh... nope!

So, in true YoungSeeker fashion, I have opted to rebel. Not that this concept is novel one - it's something that has been a theme my entire life. Anyway, here's how.

Rather than trying to fit my path into the church seasonal calendar, I am starting my own Lenten season. And, rather than confining it to 40 days, the only upper daily limit on the season will be 364 1/4 days x 40 years. And, rather than giving something up or adding in a prayer practice, I shall instead, daily reflect on the people I meet and how I wish to emmulate a piece of them in my life so that I will once again, in the eyes of others (and hopefully God) be "good" again.

Some might jump to conclusions and say that this is a poor practice because I was made to be an individual - unique, Godly, and self-sufficient... Or, alternatively, may point out that this is not an "approved" spiritual practice and may distance me even further from the church I long to call home... however, to these people, I would simply raise my hands in exhaustion and share with them the comments/happenings/challenges over the last week and illustrate that I truly, do not have a better idea.

And, so begins the journey of finding something to aspire to in at least one person I meet, witness, or exchange pleasantries with every day from now, until... well, I don't know when it will be until... let's just wait and see.

Stupid Phrase of the Day

I drove said friend back to her place so that I could stop by and pick up something that they had brought back for me from the neighbouring province while competing in auto-cross nationals.

Her husband was driving their car home and made sure to say, "so... I wonder who will get home first" as we were about to pull out of the parking lot. We followed him out of the lot and were doing very well until we surprisingly came to a set of railway tracks with the loud dinging and bars coming down.

Sitting there for a solid 15 minutes, we talked about graffiti, break-ins, stupid criminals, baseball bats, criminal charges for battery of a criminal... sure - definitely random things to talk about as we watched and waited for the long (and slow!) train to pass, but I think we were both exhausted.

When the gates finally lifted and we were on our way, it was when we went to turn left (across the lane of traffic) to head back to her house that I truly demonstrated how completely exhausted I was - mentally and all.

"Oh my! That is a very long lane of traffic. I wonder what the hold up is... did we pass an accident or something?"

Said friend simply turned and stared at me until I managed to glance over and meet her gaze.

"Ummm... do you think that it *might* have ANYTHING to do with the long train that we just watched go by?"

Oh. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. Nevermind then. Resume previous conversation. Oye. Leave it to me to bring home the intelligent, misplaced phrases and questions. ;)

Not for the weak of stomach

Sorry, I apologize in advance for the "graphic" nature of the picture, but this dear toe is the subject of reflection this afternoon.

A few days ago, post the funeral of a young family friend, and before the craziness of this week set in, I went for a hike. Not an incredibly long journey, but long enough that I learned a valuable life lesson... hence, the reflective blog post.

Here is the short story of my toe, or "relatively short story" of my toe. When I was in grade 10, back in 2000, I was going to change from gym class, and had a heavy fire door opened on my toe. I was going into the gym and previous class was leaving. While wearing runners, my toe managed to get wedged between the bottom edge of the door and the floor, resulting in bleeding and a minor annoyance of pain. A few weeks later, before the nail had a chance to fall off, we were playing floor hockey in a friends basement and I managed to "accidently kick" (paradox, I think not!) the piece of 2x4 that was the beginning of them framing their basement. The nail fell off rather painlessly, but has been a pain in the ass ever since. I have had two complete nail ressections (removal of the entire visible nail), endless doctors appointments and open toed shoes, as well as one surgery to go in and remove the nail while also destroying the nail matrix.

Unfortunately, my toenail seems to be a close relative to the raspberry stalk because nothing will kill the damn thing. Since the surgery, the nail has grown back in on a sharp angle (like is seen above) and would catch on anything and everything, pulling it back a little more each time. Things like sheets, blankets, socks, edges of steps, the sidewalk, you name it.

So, really wanting to get out and go hiking this past week, I wrapped the toe in prowrap, and secured that on with a surrounding bandage of hockey tape. That sucker wasn't going to catch on anything as I hiked my way through the bush. About half way through the afternoon though, there was a twinge of pain coming from my foot. Sitting down in a resting grove, I carefully took my boot off, then my sock, and then the first layer of bandage before I noticed some blood.

Carefully cutting off the prowrap and tape together, I could assess the damage more easily. To my surprise, the jagged edge of a nail was gone and I only had some blood to deal with.

It's amazing what our feet can tell us. Before that afternoon, I never would have guessed that my nail had a purpose in my life, but in fact, it's purpose is pretty incredible. You see, when the little piece of nail was there, it was a reminder to slow down and watch where I walked, avoiding anything that might snag and hurt. But without the nail, I am still the same person. There was weeping blood to dry off and clean up, but eventually - the toe stopped bleeding and began to heal over. The pain subsided and I was able to hike back down, the same way I came up.

Sometimes, life is just like a toe. There are days where it might seem incredibly pointless to engage, as though it is something without a deeper meaning. However, if we are attentive enough to our own "selves", we know to look out for snagging material that will cause pain, further injury or headache. And sometimes, unfortunately, we will lose things in life before we want to. (I much rather would have preferred the nail to stay on until the doctor's appointment in September for him to see and evaluate!) But after some weeping and mouring, we will be okay, successful, optimistic in a brighter tomorrow. The pain will fade, the mess will be cleaned up, and the journey will be continued as though our crisis was nothing more than a resting place along the walk.

It seems so mundane and simple and I wish that I would have understood it before now, but I've always been a tangible learner and need to experience things to learn from them. I will miss Reed, the same way I will miss and wish my toenail was still here. Toes are certainly more beautiful when 10 are painted, not just nine; life more beautiful and spectacular with dear friends and near family. There will always be a gap in the nailpolish, but that's okay. My toe, just like my life over the past little while, was a learning experience I wish to never forget and may the (temporarily) nail-less toe be a reminder of the incredible grace and peace I experienced on that hillside that afternoon. And may this ugly looking toe be a gentle whisper reminder of the slow turning point to come back home, out of the bush - and into light of life. TBTG!

Speechless

Well, all in all... it was a pretty good night.  At the last possible moment before leaving for ball tonight, I got an email from my supervisor saying that the schizophrenic role that I portrayed on Tuesday with my mom, "Maria" was so stellar, the medical faculty wishes to arrange a taping of the two of us to send out to other cities in the program.  Which, after I finished I laughing, was a huge sigh of relief and affirmation.  We'll see if that actually transpires or if they were just kidding...

Then, headed over to the ball diamonds, where we trounced the other team a whopping 13-4.  And, better yet, I contributed to the run total!  

I then had a 20 minute drive to reach destination "x" in order to drop off the S.L.S. Survival Kit. At which point, surprisingly, panic set in.  I had honestly only known "Maria" for a total of maybe 3 months - and even then, only saw and talked to her a small handful of times (less than 10!).  What if.... what if she was the not the heart I was to touch, the outlook I was to affect, or the life I was to give just enough to?  The shocking part in all this is that I did something that I haven't done in almost a year... I asked a friend to pray for Maria's heart to be open and willing to receive what was on it's way to her.  I kid not, I was literally shaking as I pulled up to the address which I had written on my arm; I nearly tripped on the flat sidewalk, over my own two feet.  I knocked on the outside door, fought the temptation to run, and after standing there and working to build up my confidence - pulled the outside door open just enough to reach the doorbell.  

Sweet!  No answer - I can put the bag between the two doors and she will find it eventually.  However, heading back to my car, the door opened and I hear, "hey!".  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit... I'm busted.  Do I get the car and speed off?  Run as fast as I can on foot and pretend that's not my car?  Ohhhhh crap!!  Nope.  Didn't do any of those things unfortunately.  I turned around.  Oooops.  Maria wanted to know what this package was and so I started explaining it, but told her it would all make sense when she opened it later.  And so... we talked.  

She opened my eyes to the reality that people on commercials don't usually use the product themselves.  Like hemorrhoid cream supporters on T.V... prolly don't even have hemorrhoids; Ellen most likely doesn't use Covergirl, defying aging cream and actors on coffee commercials probably don't even drink coffee.  I decided... I'm going to write to Ellen.  

Watching a sports car go by, Maria made a comment that hers was better - and I thought it was a joke.  She normally bikes everywhere!  At which point, she opened the garage and... there it was... (drooling!).  She asked if I had time to go for a ride - and when I made a kind of squealing noise, I think she took that as a yes.  Off we went... AAAA mazing!  She is racing it on Sunday and invited me for a ride-along.  I wish I could put into words how excited I am. 

Whether it was conversation, riding along on the open road with the windows and top down, or the gift that just kept on giving... she was laughing and crying and laughing.  And, I received the greatest compliment of all time... "you should go into business doing this sort of thing.  Really, I mean it!  I LOOOOOVE this!"  She kept all the little notes that went with each gift, setting them carefully on the coffee table to show her other half when he gets home.  

Life is way too short to spend everyday of our busy lives always looking in or down.  And I got the impression that although she may never actually use any of those ridiculous gifts, a pretty rough week may have been turned around... if only for a moment.  Well, this ordinary person is off to bed.  Life needs a' ponderin', sleep needs a gettin', and maybe (just maybe), someone needs a thankin'.  

Life is Like...

Do you ever feel like you are in a giant 'super mario kart' game of life? 

 Sometimes this analogy is more realistic than what first meets the eye.  After sharing it with a friend last night, I felt it was best to write it out before I was asked about it and forgot where I was originally going with it.  So... here goes.

Sometimes, life is like a Super Mario Kart game.  We climb onto our little scooter and slowly crawl up to our starting block timidly, somewhat unsure of what our laps around the track will look like.  We quickly scan our surroundings and notice that if we go off-roading, our efficiency or speed will be greatly reduced while we run the risk of wearing our tires thin on the rougher turf.  

However, we don't need to worry too much about getting lost or drowning in the water that is sometimes on the course because the 'lil dude on the cloud is always near by.  The Cloudman is responsible for giving the green light to go and flashing the yellow light for caution and if need be, a red light for those moments around the track that require us to stop and rest awhile.  This Cloudman will also be there to warn us if we are unsafely going around the track backwards... and, believe it or not, if we run our scooter into the water (intentionally, or accidently after hitting a banana peel), the Cloudman will come along with his fishing rod - and pull us back on to dry ground, ready to continue once again.  

There are some races that are "ours" to win, while for other races, we are merely companions on someone else's track of life.   When the latter is the case, our duty is to warn of the banana peels so that the 'winner' of the track doesn't get hurt or lose ground; when we hit the secret squares and "win" the prize of the shooting turtle shells, we have a duty to knock out any possible obstacles for the person whose race it is.  

However, at the same time, rather than it being the "race" mode, it's more like Super Mario Kart, Challenge mode - where the characters have to find certain hidden objects within the world or complete certain tasks in the world before they pass to the next level.  While we are companions on the journey, we simply happily continue our way around the track... practicing our driving and encouraging the journey individual along their path.  

Just like everything, there are advantages and disadvantages to this view of life's journey.  The advantages are that we are always reminded that we are truly NEVER alone on this journey.  If not the other scootered creatures, there is a ball on a cloud with a fishing pole that will never leave us drowning longer than a blink of an eye.  He will pull us out, carry us to dry land, and place us back on track.  While there are banana peels along our way, we always recover.  We only momentarily spin out, and after a few seconds, are able to catch our breath and continue.  

The disadvantage is that while we are puttering along as a companion on someone else's journey, we occasionally get car sick and need to put our control on pause for a bit.  When our own world stops spinning, we can return once again to their world, but not before.  It would only just complicate things if our little character got sick on the track and put others in danger of wiping out.  But, even when we momentarily remove ourselves from the world... we are simply sitting just outside the world's door - able to reached at any time with any request or clarification.  There, sipping on a cup of tea and reading a good book, cheering you on from a slightly different viewpoint.  

The Rationale... of a Donkey

Notice, I did not say "ass", which we all know is the code name for a donkey. At least in these parts of the English speaking world, it is.

I wanted to ask the question, are donkeys able to think rationally?

See, here's the thing. I know that the donkey on Shrek (for the most part) thinks like a rational being... he knows what to do to help Shrek fight the dragon, he is able to father children, and leads a fairly normal (albeit, donkey) life. Therefore, based on this example, I would be inclined to say that donkeys are capable of rational thought.

However... I have continually been told that I am more stubborn than average ass. I mean... donkey. Which, in my convoluted thought, seems to beg the question, "am I actually capable of rational thought, on most days?"

I want to answer yes - that, on the average day, I approach the tasks ahead of me in a cognitive and coherant fashion, achieving goals and fulfilling dreams.

Buuuuuut (hahaha... donkey, ass, but? Okay, I'm tired)... there are more days than not in which I find myself at a roadblock, wondering where on earth I went wrong. So, exerting the extra effort to re-trace my steps backwards, and after many trials and errors, (and the grace of hindsight), I finally figure out where I made my mistake and am able to correct my steps and continue on my way. While there doesn't appear to be anything wrong with this superficially, it is, for lack of more description... exhausting.

For example, something simple like taking medication daily. I know it's something I should do, and I have paid witness to what happens when I miss taking them...and yet, there are still days where I "forget"... and I pay the consequences ALL OVER AGAIN!

If it was only me that these errors in judgement affected, I would cope with that. But I am human (yes, the stubborn, ass end of human - but human) and this fact alone tells me that I am interconnected with other people ALL THE TIME. And so, unfortunately, being stubborn beyond the realm of your average ass, doesn't just hurt me... but those around me.

... if only I could find a way to illustrate that donkeys too, are capable of rationale thought. Hmm

No Kiddin'

I tried to get a picture of this before the vehicle pulled even further ahead of me, however, the picture is pretty much just a picture of a vehicle - and you can't even see what I was trying to get a picture of.  

(does that sentence even make sense?  It does in my head, however...)

This morning, driving down St. Albert Trail, I was stuck behind a small SUV.  

The plate on the vehicle was: "HO5ANNA"

And the brightly coloured bumper sticker was: "ONLY FOOLS SAY GOD IS STUPID"

I kid you not!  

I think I may have been following a highly religious and dedicated Christian this morning. Much too early for cognitive thought, however, their vehicular evangelism is still floating around my head this afternoon.  

To their bumper sticker and license plate, on a Monday, all I can say is, "ONLY THE SCARED EVANGELIZE BY CAR"

In case you're wondering, I am currently (at this very moment) waiting to be struck down by the lightning that is happening outside.  Again, I kid you not.  Thunder storms.  

If it's not too late to change my opinion, perhaps it should be: "ONLY THE STUBBORN IGNORE THE OBVIOUS"

Whatta' day!

Who Says That?!

This picture made me laugh, and yes, out loud!  It's kinda cute, whatever it is, don't ya think?

So, I called my family doctor last week, knowing that I was dry out of the prescription medication that I require - and this would be the first time I've been to see her since before leaving for Eastern Canada at the end of the summer.  

Woke up this morning feeling like this cute little green guy, the roads/weather sounded horrible, and staying in bed had a certain, attractive appeal to it.  So, picking up the phone, I call my doctor's office and the conversation went something like this:

"Good morning, Sickuare Medical Clinic, how can I help you?"

"I am calling to cancel an appointment with Dr. DrugsRMyFriend for this morning"

"And what is your name?"

"Ms. ImmuneSystemBGone"

"And what is your reason for canceling this mornings appointment?"

"I'm sick"

Yup, I actually told her I was canceling because I was sick.  After a few seconds of silence, in which my face turned a shade of lovely ruby (while I'm sure she sat puzzled on the other end), I embarrassingly said, "Never mind then - I shall see you in 45 minutes for the appointment!"

Argh, chalk it up to needing to laugh at myself - that's the only I got for trying to cancel a doctor's appointment with the rationale "I'm sick".  ha ha ha ha ha ha ha... who does that?  Me, that's who!!