God chooses the ordinary

I cannot sleep.  Not that this is surprising or anything as my mind is trying to understand a number of things annnnnnd, I had a Diet Coke.  I should know by now that DC is a bad thing to drink within hours of wanting to be asleep... hmm... chalk it up to... negligence?  

The Bible is always being "pop-psyched" up and beautiful passages are being summed up in short phrases of 21st Century English.  However, sometimes the pop-psych phrase seems to "fit".  The quote, "God chooses ordinary people for extraordinary service" derives from this passage from 1 Corinthians 1:26-31 (I believe...) and it is this very passage that is haunting the hallows of my mushy brain tonight.  

This week can be summed up as follows:

Monday: I finished putting together a DVD to mail to the East Coast for the Relay for Life. Never done a Relay, don't know 99.8% of the people in the pictures that I've included in the short movie, and have no idea if I've done what I was supposed to or will have my offer accepted again.  But when I asked my youngest sibling (16 yrs old) to watch it with me and offer feedback... the tough lil' basketball star dried her eyes and said, "wow".  I can't help but wonder in amazement - how this is even possible.  I will put it in the mail shortly and find out whether I was on track or off by a screeching mile; something tells me it's more on than I could have asked for.  I also spent two hours walking a classmate through course material for the midterm the next day.  Didn't bother me in the slightest - I had nothing better to do and yet, she wouldn't stop saying thank you.  Really... no big deal.  I was studying anyways.  

Tuesday: I cleaned out my spare change and bought a bus ticket that was valid for two hours.  Took the train downtown and made a few important stops.  I stopped at my favourite flower shop and ordered a lovely arrangement of flowers (and dropped off a hand made card) for a fellow employee celebrating a big day and asked that the flowers be delivered "from a secret sender".  The owner of the shop, whom I've come to know quite well, was asking about my studies and what my life plans were.  Chatting briefly, she took my number and wrote it below "Positive, Bubbly Personality" and vowed to call me when she filed her application to the University.  She always wanted to study further, but was sitting on the fence.  Apparently 5 minutes of my time and my story was enough to give her the confidence to file an application and see what happens.  I still await her call, but have no doubt in my mind that it will come.  

The next stop was to a party store where I picked up plastic champagne glasses, paper plates, funny shaped balloons, a Happy Anniversary banner, sparklers, a #1 shaped candle, and party hats.  I also managed to find a "question mark" shaped sparkler.  Before heading back to the University, I made a quick stop for plastic cutlery, a cheesecake topped with fresh fruit, and "sparkling apple juice" - the kind that comes in a real champagne bottle but is not at all alcoholic - "kids wine".  Trudging all this stuff to the office in which I work part time as a contracted employee, I managed to enliven the afternoon of 4 wonderful people for a bit.  My supervisor was celebrating her 1 year anniversary with the program (hence the banner, candle, cake, etc) while her boss (the main director of the program) celebrated her "?" birthday on Saturday.  Decorating the boardroom with much laughter and "I CANNOT believe you did this!! I will never forget this day!  and I don't know whether to cry or laugh" comments from the anniversary-celebrant... we partied for a total of 15 minutes, then packed up and all went back to work.  

Wednesday: While playing a ball game (and not at ALL) on duty, had one of my players hit the ball (a nice double!), and then fall to the ground.  As my team knows that I have a 'bit' of training in the medical realm, I got to tend to this young man until the paramedics showed up.  We iced it and gave him water to drink and distractions to think of while he lay in the shale.  It appears that he tore the majority of ligaments in his knee and dislocated the knee cap itself.  I also got a call from a high school classmate who is going through more life conversions than anyone should have to, who just wanted to chat.  I'm not sure that I said anything of great value, but was willing to share what little experience I had with transitions and got to listen to them share their story.  At the end of the conversation, a very hushed, "thank you, can we talk tomorrow?" came over the phone.  And, to top it off, had someone email me a sermon for Sunday and ask my humble opinion.  (I tried to explain that I'm not really in that frame of mind, but they insisted that I read it through... have yet to do so, but it's on the list!)

I also took a phone call from 1-yr anniversary supervisor who was "just calling to let (you) know how touched (I) was yesterday".  

I don't know what to say.  I think it's that lightbulb realization that this type of week... is my life.  I honestly believe that if someone were celebrating an important anniversary of something, I would commend them and celebrate with them if they let me.  (There are some who never respond to anniversary wishes, but that's their choice, I guess)  If someone was in need of comforting or someone to take authority and say, "don't move him, get ice, call 911" - I would do that in a heartbeat.  I will never turn down someone's request for coffee or a chat because if they trust me enough to want to talk, I'll be there.  I know of a chaplain who refers to this notion as the economy of grace - that when you invest and share grace with others, you invest in them: their futures, their aspirations, their life.  

It's the powerhouse realization that, I dare say, in order for me to invest this grace in others - someone first has invested in me.  They did so on the basis that I would pay it forward... tHEy did so with the understanding that, although just an ordinary person - in the eyes of others, it may be extraordinary.  I just hope that HIS holy investment doesn't come with too many expectations.  And, for the record, I think that although this individual is 45 hours away, I may have been "Cliff-ed" today.  DOH!

I'm stuck.  Yup, not afraid to admit it and easily frustrated when others try and help by seemingly trying to clean off my stuck tires with a bucket of water.  Good intentions, just painfully not practical at the moment.  I guess there is a time and place and today is not the time and sitting on a hill is probably not the best place.  But... hey... in the larger picture - who cares?

The genuine question of the day, though is - how one can go about saying Happy Birthday to someone who still holds a huge place in your heart?  I'm caught up on the little things, and therefore - struggling to find the right words.  

Do you have any idea how magnificent the birthday greetings need to be for that one person who refused to give up on you, even when you would curse her under your breath, hide under the blankets, and tell them outright - you don't want to live in that state of health anymore?  What about for that person who unselfishly scheduled their work day around you: they dropped you off (in a rather grumpy state) in the morning for treatment, offered each and every day to stay and hold your hand, and was ALWAYS on the other end of the "magic cell phone" when you called in tears or jubilation, and asked her to come and get you... and who would leave work to come and get you?  For that person who would take you home, make the best grilled cheese in the world, fill your fuzzy hot water bottle, wrap you in a blanket, and sit with you - not leaving until you were completely past out?  

What do you say to the person who reacted the same, motherly way to dress shopping as she did to wig shopping, "YOU LOOK AMAZING" and then always follow it up by, "FOR REAL!" because you never felt as amazing as they described... or to the person who held you back from almost punching a lady in a busy store who misunderstood your gender by judging you solely on the ball cap you wore?  How can "happy birthday" be enough for the person who helped you break the rules, threw "chemo parties" and ever so gently, shaved the remaining few hairs from your head so that they wouldn't have to fall out?

For the individual who laid on your bed and read you chapters from Lord of the Rings so you could fall asleep on those difficult nights, and who never complained when your nightmares and endless tears about the dismal future brought her into your dark room... just to rub your back, dry your tears, and console you as best she could - how on earth, do you wish them a happy birthday?  

This is the lady who, as we sped to the hospital, put her seat all the way back, held your terrified hand and sung "You Are My Sunshine" over and over and over again; the person you left your provincial discernment meeting early for - so that you wouldn't miss one of the most important days of her life.  

She is the person you spent almost all day with, for the better part of two years... but also the mum you have only seen once since August.  

Somehow, the pathetic phrase, "Happy Birthday Mum" just isn't enough.  

Who knew...

... that expressing happiness for someone you care about it, elicits a biting?

... that not responding to correspondence before cognitively awake, truly people upsets people?... that being scared shitless for one's own health and well-being, makes everything one says, sound sarcastic? 

... that saying nothing at all, is apparently 100% better than passing on genuine happiness for their news?

Not me, that's for sure.  I have absolutely no clue what it is I'm supposed to say then - because if I can't say something meaningful and nice without upsetting you, I would prefer if you would just write the script that would be acceptable for our friendship.  

But before you do that, you should know that my experience in acting is minimal and I probably won't be able to stick to the script anyway.  However, if that is the only way that we can move forward, please send the script along ASAP.  Until I can get to reading it, I will file it under, "Come on now, give me a lil' more credit than that!"

Lyrics

I don't know what else to do; I spent the majority of my evening talking on the phone and chatting with my sister. You know that person who fills the void in your life? Yeah, I was talking to her. It's truly beyond any stretch of imagination to think that our relationship is as tight as it is... but it makes sense to us. I have more siblings than I can count, but this is a different sister all together. I will write more about the incredible weekend we got to spend together, but that is not what this post is about.

I have nothing intelligent to say. I don't know why she did it, but she thought it was important to read some of my words that I'd written back to me. I think it might have been to try and show me that (contrary to my own belief), my words carry meaning to a select few when written from the heart and inspired from above.

I can't help but feel like I'm between a rock and a double edged sword; the words that I wrote to her six months ago do not even remotely sound like words I would be capable of saying today. I've been stretched since I wrote those words, and while they seem to continually inspire her to light the world with this incredible glow and 'pay it forward' attitude, looking at where I am now, it's shocking to think that I could have written what I did. So, from where I sit, I can either accept the fact that at one point along my journey, I could have composed a letter - dripping with meaning and conviction... and that today, life is different. That is to say, "there's a possibility I once believed all that, but that the tables have turned, circumstances changed and if I wrote to you today, wouldn't say what I did there." Alternatively, I feel like a fraud. That, for some reason, I was overcome with a glimpse of inspiration, but that these moments are few and far between.

Inspired by what she read and how it was so relevant to her journey at the time, she shared with me this evening that she, in turn, shared my words with others.

And... off go the alarms, sirens, and fog horns.

I have so carefully laid the stones strategically - placed them one on top the other in an order and shape that would provide the greatest protection. Between each carefully selected stone, is the strongest glue/mortar/sticky tack you could ever imagine using... I'm sure it's what Noah used to keep the ark together when he ran out of nails! Water resistant, and impenetrable.
But since the weekend, I feel... almost without a security barrier. Part of this is because I met someone who clearly has a gift of calling you out when needed, sometimes without warning, time or extended discussion. The person who knows full well that there is something impeding God's full possession of heart and soul.

The other part of this comes from the knowledge that "deep and heart-felt" words were associated to me. Although I wrote them, they are uncensored, come from inside the stones, and give people the right to expectations... the dreadful "e" word.

The challenge is that whether it was what I wrote, or a combination of a lot of things (I'm voting for the later!), this young woman has grown in the most incredible and indescribable ways. She has truly taken her faith as her own, grabs life by the discerning, scriptural horns, and demands that change and justice are brought to where it's needed the most. She has gone through more than I could ever imagine... and done so with grace, humility, maturity of faith, and a radiant light. A true, Sr. Mary Patrick, from the Sister Act movies.

Our conversation tonight ended horribly abrupt. I got all freaked out by the fact that she has kept all my letters... that my letters bear such weight... that my words would inspire... that she was so thrilled and challenged by these words, she felt called to share them with others... and that, my worst fears are true: the recent events of my life have truly (and negatively!) impacted my faith, my relationships, and my discipleship... and that I don't know how to get back on track, spiritually.

I keep telling myself that I'm over reacting; I'm tired, emotionally drained, and dreading the upcoming month as I head back home.

If only... if only I could pray for the understanding and comprehension... if only I knew why an answer to a prayer from a while ago appears to be here now... if only I could figure out whether she is here, with great care and gentleness, to facilitate what is ahead... if only.

Between you and I, I think I know the answer; she seems to be the contractor and has already introduced me to one of the crew. But I'm scared. I don't want to be, but I am, and that leaves me hiding under the back corner of the bed... laying really, really, really still. So, instead of a conversation, I leave her lyrics... I trust she knows where they come from - hoping that she understands that I am running because of me, not because of her.

Left wrestling one question:

Why?