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.

Feelers

Everyone, at some point, has done that thing in life where they first send feelers into a conversation, testing the waters to see if the other person is open to having a deep conversation about the shit-tayness that comes with life. Sometimes we discover that in fact, this the person we can talk to, confide in, and share the strains and stresses of the day while other times, the radar comes back, "NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY" for whatever reason. The other person is too busy or preoccupied or would just prefer to not participate in such a conversation.

Often, when people are sending feelers out to us, it's obvious - they give subtle hints that there is something bugging them that they want to talk about, but sometimes - we haven't the slightest clue until something triggers us much later in the day.

This morning, I was running behind. There is too much bubbling around between these ears to get a good night sleep as of late, so when the alarm goes - there is a consider amount of grumbling, moaning, and sighing to start the day. Racing through the shower, throwing a lunch together and trying to find clean clothes to wear (not in that order -and our wash machine is broken) in 15 minutes was a challenge. And when sibling #2 stood in the porch entryway in her pj's while I tried to find shoes and get out the door, I didn't even take a moment to ponder why she asked, "Did you hear what happened last night?" I honestly thought she was going to tell me about someone who came into work, someone passed on a juicy piece of community gossip or that her ball team qualified for the playoffs (this last one would truly be a long shot, but I was being optimistic). If I would have taken 2 seconds (seconds!) to look up at her before I answered, my answer would have been different. But, I didn't. She was putting out the feelers, and I was completely ignoring the fact that she was doing so. "No, but can we talk about it when I get home this afternoon? I am going to miss the bus and that would be a bad thing!"

"Yea" she said... and didn't move as I turned and ran out the door.

I got a phone call/voice message during my class that was a frantic and upset sibling #2, mumbling something about how she was had called into work to let them know she couldn't go in, and they were insisting on having a doctor's note.

After calling her back, returning the message from the doctor's office about a surgery date, and re-arranging some work commitments I had that afternoon, I found out in a hysterical manner that a friend of the family was killed in an ATV accident last night; there was no way she was going into work, let alone - hold herself together long enough to tell me what was going on over the phone.

Later in the afternoon, as I was heading home to switch vehicles and clothes for class tonight, the events of the past few days had hit hard and I too, needed to be momentarily hysterical with someone. So, just like my sibling did this morning, I put the feelers out to someone I felt comfortable talking to - and surprisingly, got the same "NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY" response that I had given my sister this morning. They had a long day, an appointment stood them up, and will be moving in the next week and probably had a million other shrimp in their frying pan to saute, without adding mine into the mix as well.

Needless to say, I felt like a shmuck. It's funny how we learn our lessons... that simple, pop-psych phrase, "what goes around, comes around" is so true. My sister needed 30 seconds of time this morning, to call her work and explain in a calm fashion that she truly couldn't work today, and I pushed it off until "later". But now, thankfully, I have seen this case from the otherside - from the "I need to talk" side when someone is just not receptive to talking at that given point in time.

Lesson learned. Next time it is incredibly obvious that someone is putting feelers out into my waters, I will take that moment to glance up, make sure they're okay, and "be there" for them. Today's lesson is brought to you by the letter J, the colour: pea-ish green, and the number 3.

The Economy of Need??

I had to laugh on the way home from campus this morning. It was one of those things that, if I didn't laugh, I would sit in astonishment all the way home while pondering the big/deep questions of life... something that will just have to wait until next week when there are not two assignments and a midterm to write in the next 24 hours.

Have you ever realized that honestly, there are some people who are never content in life?

I mean, if I were going to be fair about it, maybe these people are just having a horribly "off" day and need an extra boost of encouraging from someone... but seriously, oye! Like, realistically, the bus driver can answer questions such as, "do you stop here?" "how often does the bus come by here?" or something pertaining to their route. But this rider wouldn't stop asking questions beyond the scope of knowledge of the poor bus driver. "When will the city bus come by, rather than your suburb bus?" "Is it supposed to rain tonight?" "Why is Safeway's gas more expensive than the other gas stations along this road?"

I understand. The person just needed conversation - someone to talk to and engage. But let's be frank here... of all the people this person could have started a conversation with about the weather and gas prices, the bus driver was not the one with the answers.

I'm willing to bet that we all know someone in our lives who is like this rider; someone who is extremely uncomfortable with silence in a relationship, someone who needs to see you or touch base with you in order to know that life is okay, or someone who searches for meaning through constant interaction with other people, strangers or friends. It's an interesting phenomenon in that, there is more to it than simply being an introvert or extrovert and I'm willing to put the hypothesis forward that there is an underlying economy of need functioning here on a level that is sub-consciously active. We're all like this on some level, we have to be in order to survive, but what causes some to be more invested in this economy than others? Personal choice or extrenuating circumstances?

It will take a bit more research and criterion testing, but this is something I am interested in understanding. Will post findings as I discover them! For now, it's back to studying the two remaining lectures/chapters for tomorrow's exam, praying that I did well on my essay, and pondering (briefly) how I will write two assignments between classes tomorrow!

Storms of all shapes and sizes

Our family spent the weekend at a friend's cabin. Having grown up with these two families, it was a wonderful, semi-relaxing time to catch up on all that had happened in each others lives since the last wedding. At one point back in elementary school, I think we actually called ourselves The Smart Muskateers, adding one more to our "elite" group when we hit junior high.

We have since lost touch with the friend who joined our group in junior high, not really talking to her in high school and probably have not seen her since graduating in 2003. However, the three of us still manage to see each other once or twice a year by the blessing that our three moms are really good friends and make a point of talking at least once a week. Our families have seen each other through temporary separations, poor crop and cattle years where we were forced to rely on the frozen meat and vegetables from the year before in order to survive, graduations of all sorts and sizes, and in the past year, two of three of us walking down the aisle and saying "I do".

As great as it was to catch up, it was truly an incredible weekend of storm watching and squatting (if I can use that term in this context...). Saturday was a gorgeous day, spent down on the water and playing beach volleyball. Sunburns were had in various proportions across the board and a large handful of good solid wipe outs on the water as various individuals tried their hand at tubing, wakeboarding, knee-boarding and skiing.

My two youngest siblings were scheduled to cater a wedding in a small, farming community about an hour away from the lake and so they hit the road (dressed like little penguins) in the mid afternoon. By the time Saturday evening had rolled around, clouds were beginning to build in the distance and shortly after our post-supper volleyball match, the younger crowd was hauled out of the water at the sight of rapid, intense lightening that was fast approaching. Before we knew it, the wind was more than we had prepared for and the awning on the trailer was pocketing the wind and shooting up, almost like a parachute would. (This caused numerous, un-bloggable words to leave dad's mouth!) and a panic to get everything put away and tied down before it was too late.

Then... while sitting on the swing watching the lightening and listening to the incredible thunder (yet, not raining) two of our crew came around the corner of the house, one handing his cell phone to my mom and one handing his phone to my dad... both of my sisters were trying to call and couldn't get through on anyone else's phones. The sky was green in the small community where they were; funnel clouds were spotted and it was storming worse than they had ever seen in their adolescent lives. The power in the hall had gone out and they were allowed to stay there for 30 minutes on back-up power, but if the breaker wasn't fixed in that short time, the wedding party would end early. You have to know my two sisters... if anyone would freak out in that situation, it would be them. One of them is scared of anything and everything and the other one is the baby of the family and simply doesn't have enough life experience to be "brave" in a situation like that where her older sister is crying and freaking out. Ha ha... oh man!

They attempted to take to the road and head back to the cabin themselves, but hit the large panic button when, while driving down the highway, witnessed a close-by lightening strike and virtually explode a tall tree and driving a few more feet to discover large, im-movable tree branches laying all over the road. The cell phones rang again, this time asking the guys to come and pick them up and bring them back.

All got home safely after hours of detouring and sitting to wait out the storm... late enough that I was actually startled when a gentle tap woke me up around 3 to ask if she could crawl into my sleeping bag. She was shaking - poor kid.

News reports yesterday showed incredible monetary damage to things from BBQ's blown down the street to a farmer loosing his barn and all his lifestock due to the falling barn and some scattering. Trees, literally, exploded when struck by the lightening - leaving debris all along the highway. Cement walls were blown down, a tower in the downtown core began to break off and injured people walking and in vehicles and a fire truck drove into a building. Semi's flipped, cars rolled into ditches, and trees decades old are no more.

This morning, a teary, red-eyed professor came in, apologized for his lateness and raspy voice, but a close friend died Friday night, taking his own life. Guess I'm lecturing more this term than I originally planned...

Gives a person a true sense of thankfulness that the storm, while damaging some crops and touching the lives of wonderful people, spared those who life couldn't exist without. Crops are easily enough to replace... adorable little sisters who want to crawl into the tent with you because they are still terrified of the stormy weather are both priceless and irreplacable!

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.

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.

Let me

Well, to be honest, I've always been a sap for bagpipes; not sure why, but there is something that warms me from the inside out when I hear them played. This movie clip is one from the Provincial Summer Special Olympics that are taking place here this weekend - with athletes representing 114 communities from all across the province. This short clip is taken after the pipe band has marched in about 45 uniformed military personal, Royal Canadian Mounted Police (in their red uniforms/hats), and cadets.

The uniformed officers are lining both sides of the aisle that these athletes are about to walk through; the officers were followed into the arena by approximately 50 competitive bike riders, and about 100 joggers... and then... the screaming starts - the pipe band is drowned out - and these two, incredible athletes, march proudly into their home arena and up to light the torch and declare the games... "officially open".

There are honestly no words that can describe the emotional surge that came from sitting in that packed arena, on my feet - just like the 900 special athletes on floor level and the 1000 spectators, parents and #1 fans... watching these two athletes march with such conviction and pride.

I don't think there was a dry eye in the entire arena.

And then... 900 athletes stood proudly and proclaimed their oath - one that everyone should take heart in...

"Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt"

IN-credible. I truly encourage you to find out when Special Olympics are taking place in your area. Time spent that you will never regret, and that will change you... above and beyond. Warm your heart, moisten your eyes, and stretch your spine.

The Lessons of Rhubarb

Did you know that you can avoid crying when you cut an onion if you refrain from cutting the very end of the onion off until the last possible cut? It's true... or, you can just wear contact lenses because apparently that prevents your eyes from tearing up as well.

Rhubarb? I am not so lucky.

I am definitely wearing my contacts, but just about lost them in the sliced rhubarb as my eyes teared up.

I shed a tear for the memories held deep inside of cutting rhubarb last summer and being called a "rhubarb buddy"...

I shed a tear for the lessons I was taught as the rhubarb was cut - not just about how to slice it best for stewing as opposed to baking sliced rhubarb, but the lesson that rhubarb is like love - the more of it that you give away, the more you get the next day. It's true - as soon as you pick all the rhubarb, magically, two days later - there is more than what you originally started with. I actually used to think that I could eat/stew/freeze/bake with all the rhubarb that grew in that little, city garden. I would actually get upset when it was given away to church ladies, neighbours, and co-workers. However, by the end of the summer, I learned that she was right. The more you give away, the more it grows...

I shed a tear thinking about the fact that there won't be a rhubarb buddy this year; that most of the rhubarb will go to seed, and that no one here will eat rhubarb and custard with me...

... and I shed a tear out of shear frustration for not remembering how to cut for stewing as opposed to baking.

However, most of the tears are shed because this broken stalk of rhubarb will never, fully reach it's "rhubarb potential". So, dear rhubarb buddy, if there is any chance that you are out in the garden this summer and picking rhubarb, and you find yourself in need of a rhubarb buddy... I won't say a word. I won't beg you not to share it with others or plead for you to make the amazing sauce just right so that it melts over vanilla ice cream... instead, I will simply rejoice that this particular stalk was picked, dusted off, and called upon. I won't hold my breath, that would be stupid - not to mention painful - but will continue to grow. Hopefully, before I break into seed, you'll pick me.

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'.  

Matthew 25

The parable of the land owner is one that has been floating around my head recently because of a sermon that I was once blessed to hear about this passage.  Summed up in two words, the take home message was "Just Enough".  In reference to how many talents each worker had received at the end of a long day in the fields, the answer always should be, "just enough".  

I am pretty lucky that way.  You see, I have a job in which I work to train to various professions of medical students (nurses, doctors, respiratory techs, pharmacists, etc) how to interact with patients, what the 'accepted practice here in Canada is' and give them a chance to have patient interaction before they get out into the real world of grumpy people, people who will always have something wrong with them, and people who want to have their meds and take them too.  The pay ranges from minimum wage upwards to 19-20 dollars an hour and while it is not steady enough work to live off of, it is still, "just enough". 

It pays for the gas and supper to be picked up and delivered on the doorstep of a mourning family nearly two hours away; I make just enough to throw a make-shift party with balloons, cake, decorations, and "kids-wine" for a special anniversary celebration for someone who often goes unnoticed.  The pay is just enough to put two baseball tickets into a card signed, "your loyal bus-rider" to be passed off to a bus driver who has driven numerous (and thankless) routes to the university and back - battling traffic, and let's face it, annoying and somewhat disrespectful riders; it is just enough to buy a bouquet of flowers for a sibling who went through a disgusting break up, giving her hope for a sunnier tomorrow and some inflatable blow-up toys for the pool for a sibling who is sick and tired of being judged on someone else's mistakes in life.  

...And, today - the pay is just enough to fill a large birthday bag with tissue-wrapped gifts and individual notes to help someone get through an absolutely, downright, shit-tay week.  Literally, in a matter of 10 tens, the band this person was a part of = split.  A mother-in-law was moved into a long term care facility, and one of their best friends committed suicide.  No one should have to live through 10 days like that.  And so, in a bag labelled, "S.L.S. Survivor Kit (sometimes life stinks)", there are a few things to hopefully bring a smile to her face, and let her know that she is being thought of in this challenging time.  Some Sourpatch Kids candy to remind her not to allow the experiences to make her sour, a little frog in a poncho holding a sign that reads, "rain brings flowers" as a reminder that sometimes storms are healthy, a box of chicken noodle soup (with a note that says, not sure if it works, but my momma always said this would make anyone feel better), a disguise kit (in case she wants to hide from reality for a little while), a bright, smily face bouncy ball to throw at those people who seem disgustingly chipper, and among others things, a box of Mr. Clean's Magic Erasers with a note that says, "if I were the handsome, bald man and I had the power to erase the shit-tay-ness of this past week, I would... but... since I am not a man, I am not bald, and I am not magic, perhaps this might be more useful in cleaning?"  The package is topped off with a home-made card and verse and will hopefully be dropped off tonight.  If I can find my camera before drop-off time, I will include a picture, but... not something to hold your breath for!

I'm not sure how this co-worker will react as it's been a stressful time, but hopefully the point gets across that she is thought of and cared about - and that sometimes, a laugh is 100x better than a wilting bouquet of flowers.  And if not, then hopefully this messenger will keep from getting discouraged and continue working with the just enough salary, to make just enough of a difference in the world in which we live, move and have our being.