Life in the real world

So...

In the real world (of the big, working people), one is expected to get up excessively early to shower before work. It is important to show up to one's job looking presentable and preferably, not smelling like bonfire smoke and a weekend of no-showers.

Check. I got up at 630, stood in line for the shower, put some food in my stomach, and was off to conquer the world.

Alas, I showed up with my tea in hand only to discover that there was a mix up at the office and actually, there was not going to be any training today. Greeeeeeat.

In the real world, people are able to wear runners or closed toe shoes to work, to work out, or when it's cold and miserable as it is today.

However, I joyfully received a call from my doctor's office to say that in fact, the surgeon that my family doctor referred me to, is unable to take my case at this time. Double freakin' great.

ANNNNNND, in the real world, people are able to send their regrets for a meeting, especially when the notice given to them was given on extremely short notice (ie: Friday night at 9pm when the meeting was Monday evening). Pretty hard to find a replacement on that incredible short notice, especially if you are an employee who believes that people's weekends ought to be kept as sacred, family time. So instead, apparently it's acceptable in the "real" world for a team leader (WHOM YOU'VE NEVER MET) to call you, yell at you, and expect you to drop whatever you are doing to attend a "meeting" where everyone can sit around a table, harboring all their negative energies toward each other, and chat about their true colours in that pathetically fake voice.

Fuck. Some days I really hate being a part of this ridiculous "real world" that is home to pathetic adults with screwed up priorities.

Lord I hope this Day is Good

This morning I am reminded of an eerie Anne Murray recording of "Lord, I hope this day is good". Today marks day four of training in which my patience is tested and my ability to hold my tongue is required. Who would have thought that 20 some employees, both old and new, are completely set in their ways? Who would have thought that adult learning would be a challenge in understanding: trying to figure out what baggage load people are carrying in with them to be saying what they are and doing what they are.

Today is the turning point from working 12 hours to 24 hours as tonight is the first hockey game of our official preseason and tomorrow transitions into the on shift 48 hour weekend. Oye.

Yesterday's work shift started with a call to my cell phone mid-afternoon informing me that the young man I support was on his way to the hospital for swallowing something that was ultimately dangerous.

Four hours later, my role transitioned to one of comfort and back rubbing as the induced vomiting began. Somehow this aspect of the job is considered required and covered by a job description. Who knew?!

It is quite the experience working entirely in the secular world, but more on that later. For now, I must drag my butt out of bed for another long day in the office.

"Lord, I hope this day is good

I'm feeling empty like you knew I would

I should be thankful, Lord, I know I should

But Lord, I hope this day is good

I don't need fortune and I don't need fame

Send down the thunder Lord, send down the rain

But when you're planning just how it will be

Plan a good day for me

You' ve been the kind since the dawn of time

All I'm asking is a little less crying

It might be hard for the devil to do

But it would be easy for You."

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. ;)

Don't Want the Day to End

Today whizzed by. In more ways than one. I was invited to attend an auto-cross event in which a friend and co-worker was racing her car (as well as her husband). They are truly wonderful people to be around and I think there was more laughing done today than in the past month. I was told this afternoon that I was a bad influence for said friend because she strives to make me laugh because when I am laughing, I say something stupid that makes her laugh and we get caught in this vicious (albeit, hilarious) circle.

And although I am completely exhausted and my pillow is calling me, I really do not want this day to end. I got word today that my next youngest sister is moving back home. While this is good news because it means that the relationship with her abusive boyfriend is going to cease to exist, it also means that family dynamics will once again be thrown into the blender. It means that my personal routine will need to change so that it can accomodate her schedule (which is quite different from mine) and personal and quiet space will become even harder to claim. We are both incredibly stubborn and while we used to be the best of friends, we now simply co-exist. Who knows - maybe having the prodigal daughter return home will be good for everyone, but I am just a little skeptical.

Annnnd, underlying this anxiety and array of mixed feelings, I am dreading the upcoming weeks. I work four hours tomorrow night (in which I am scheduled to work past my normal bedtime) and have to be at work for 9am the next morning. I am in training until 4:30pm and have to race over to Cory's house for 5pm. I get off from there at 9pm. This is the routine until Friday. However, added to those insanely long days, on Wednesday - I have to get up and be out of the house by 630am, drive to the local University, pick up some paperwork, and get back into the nearby town for 9am. On Thursday, after I get off work at 9pm, I return home, pick up my hockey gear and play a late game (1045 start, 2 hour ice slot). And Friday, go from work at 9pm, over to another house in which I am looking after 3 ladies (one of whom apparently does not sleep) and remain there until Sunday night at 9pm.

The next week is much the same - although the training goes from 9am - 5pm and then a frantic rush to get to Cory's house as soon as I can. The catch on the second week of 12 hour shifts is that Cory and Nathan are moving into a new house. This means that the upcoming two weeks will be primarily centered around packing them up, moving them out, unpacking them, cleaning old house (which will be a job and a half) and getting them settled in a new neighbourhood.

Oye. That said, as much as I don't want the day to come to an end - it will. It always does. Means that I should really turn in and try and sleep - although the adrenhaline from today is still surging strong...

If I can survive the next two weeks, stay tuned for the ridiculousness that will be my life.

Astonished

So I will need to finish this post at a later point as there are errands to run today as we are praying it might be the last day of harvesting for this season. Ah! So fast this year as a reflection on the poor quality of crops.

Just a quick note to say that yesterday was a rough day.

I was in a bad mood starting off my day because I drove 45 minutes to meet someone who, once again, did not show up, did not answer their phone or call or even apologize for not showing up. I am torn on whether I should scream or cry... so I did some of both.

Following this lovely start, I raced back into town to meet with Gramma. She recently purchased a laptop (so proud of her!) and needed help getting it set up and such. So, that required a bit of work yesterday and will take up a large chunk of this afternoon as well.

Annnnnd, to top the day off, I took Cory to the local leisure center to work out for a couple of hours. It was a great start - got our hot green bands of shame (as he likes to call them) and headed upstairs to do a few laps around the indoor track. I began jogging at a slow pace, but he was off - like the wind. Literally.

Omg - sweetest kid ever. He ran so incredibly fast and when he reached the turn at the other end, in his 19 year old sass, turns around and goes, "let's go turtle!" I had to laugh. He's hilarious. So as we continued doing some laps, he began to tell me that because he is "an Indian, I can actually run faster in bare feet - no shoes and no socks" - and off he went, sprinting to the end again.

However, there were two young men (probably not older than Cory) who were between Cory and I - one of whom, burst out laughing at Cory's carefree running.

To my shock, horror, awe, and pounding heart - it was my cousin.

Words cannot describe what I wanted to do to Matthew. Hopefully my temper will cool by the time Christmas rolls around and the whole family is gathered because otherwise, who knows what might happen.

A silent prayer was said last night in thanksgiving for the gift of temperance and patience - for if I had not had both of them last night, I would have mortified my dear (and stupid) cousin, right in front of his best friend and work out buddy.

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!

Life is like a trip to the dentist

Okay, so this is going to be an exercise in convoluted thinking, but here goes. Last night was our first hockey game of the season and this meant that I had to dig the mouthguard out of my hockey bag, brush it out, and hold it in my mouth for an hour and a half. It was a test in patience.

Every year I go out and purchase and mould a new mouthguard, promising myself that it will fit and be strong enough for a few seasons of hitting, elbowing, and general tooth protection. However, every year I step out on the ice I am hit by the realization that my teeth have shifted ever so slightly and the mouthguard is now extremely uncomfortable. This realization lead to the impending trip to the dentist this morning to have impressions taken for a new one (a professional one that will hopefully last more than 30 games).

Life is like a trip to the dentist.

Climbing into the chair, the assistant clipped a drool cloth around my neck and begin to put the chair back into it's reclining position for when the doctor came in. At first, I was relatively comfortable - I got to lay there and "relax" for a moment or two.

But then the doctor came in, got his tools, and starting mixing up the cement for the impressions to be taken with. Annnnd, in typical Young Seeker fashion, it was at this moment that I realized how badly I actually had to use the washroom. Even after years of indoctrination from my mother (who works in the dental office), I once again – failed to use the facilities down the hall before climbing into the chair. The unfortunate ending to this story is that dental cement takes about as long to dry (and properly form) in one's mouth as regular, run of the mill, sidewalk brand cement. My bladder and stress level suffered horribly from my poor decision.

"Way why whooze wa waaaafffuum?"

"No, it's best if you don't move while the cement hardens because the more you move, the less likely the mouthguard will fit properly."

You see, at this inoppurtune moment, this young seeker realized just how similar life and the dentist visit really are. In life, we all need a drool bib from time to time - only, we use friends, family, or more unhealthy bibs like drugs, alchohol or shameful habits to catch the run-off from shit-ay circumstances in life that are beyond our control (and sometimes, even the ones that we have full control over!)

And to anyone walking by, the look of horrible discomfort on my face would have simply been attributed to dental-visit nerves, a painful procedure, or inadequate Novacane (freezing). In reality, the problem was an internal problem. I had to pee. In thee worst way. So often, we see someone, friend or stranger, and we assume that we know the causes of their distress or discomfort. 99% of the time, our assumptions are the wrong ones.

Finally, the comparrison is strikingly similar because even when the problem is an internal one, in reality, we are unable to communicate our needs, discomforts, or problems. We lack the language, the articulation, or the courage. Sure, I could have just stood up, walked out, and returned after I silenced the call of my bladder - but honestly... we don't. There are so many reasons and excuses for why we don't, but let's be frank about it - the bottom is that we simply hang tight, suck it up, and get 'er done.

Stop by next time for the blog: God is our Novacane.

Fool-proof Proof that God exists!

It is, by far, thee most childish and immature argument for why I believe God exists more than Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy... but it is a proof that has never let me down. For some reason, it is the proof that I've always clung to and am reminded of each fall. Each time I remember this proof, I make the mental note of filing it in the back of the cabinet under "potential sermon illustration". Here it is.

I know that God exists because unlike Santa, God can hear the prayers that I say in my head; God can read my mind, but if you want Santa to know something, you have to either write it down or say it out loud. I know that God exists because unlike the Easter Bunny, God is capable of gifting more than chocolate and God doesn't leave a mess anywhere; God gifts things like love, forgiveness, grace, and peace, but the Easter Bunny is only capable of gifting those things which come in moulds - most often, in the shape of a bunny and rarely does the Easter Bunny gift anything aside from milk chocolate (not exactly a utility kind of gift). Plus, you don't have to clean up after God, he cleans up after you. But the Easter Bunny requires a pooper-scooper and a large pail in it's wake. Finally, I know that God exists because the rewards of making a sacrifice come in copious showers, but the Tooth Fairy never rewards more than a two dollar coin; God isn't cheap, but the Tooth Fairy certainly is. God understands that having an important, rooted aspect of your life is a painful, tedious process and never puts a numerical value on what is being lost, but the Tooth Fairy seems to think that Novacane makes everything manageable and clearly thinks that being able to break life into bite-size pieces is only worth small coinage. Plus, God does not hold our past against us but that stupid Tooth Fairy holds all the teeth in an envelope in Dad's bathroom - probably just to give back to us when we are old and start to lose these teeth.

I have been up for a few hours already, pre-sunrise thinking about this "proof" and how absolutely certain I was 18 years ago that the proof was infallible. Growing up on the farm, this time of year was one of mixed feelings. We only got to see my dad on Sunday mornings for church, if we got to stay up really, really late, or if it was pouring rain. He would always be out of the house before we got up in the morning and would never get back until after we were in bed. Every night, my mom would hear the instructions that she was to pass onto my dad when he got home. "Tell dad that as SOON as he gets home, to come and kiss me goodnight, make sure that Kristin didn't steal all the blankets or kick me onto the floor. Then, after he showers and eats his supper, tell him to come back in for one more kiss before bed, k?" She would nod, assure us that he always came into our rooms when he got home, kissed us goodnight, and made sure we were all tucked in. Night after night, my sister and I would be scolded for having to "use the bathroom" every five minutes, taking turns to see if dad was home.

If we were lucky, we would get to take supper out to the field for him. We would put milk in a canning jar and essentially, pack a small, cold picnic for him. Annnnd, if we were really lucky (and if the baby was sleeping in the car), we would get to go for a round on the combine with him. On the nights that we didn't go out to the field (we typically only took supper out on the nights where they were going to be combining into the early hours of the morning), we would leave him pictures, mis-spelled notes, and crafts by his plate for him to look at/read/admire while he ate his supper.

And this was the time of year, where part one of the proof was first discovered. Prayers were often said together, post teeth-brushing and pre-tuck in. Together, we would pray for good weather, good crops, safety, for people we loved.... and then silently, I would add a prayer for a whole day of pouring rain. I didn't necessarily want to contradict the good weather prayers that mom prayed for, but I just wanted one day of pouring rain so that dad could stay home.

Sure enough, after what seemed like eternity to a six year old, it rained. Two days straight. I didn't need to say these prayers out loud at bedtime for God to hear them. God heard my prayers for rain and didn't let me down. Now Santa on the other hand, should maybe take a lesson in the non-verbal, silent requests. If he did, I bet there would be a lot more Christmas presents of peace wrapped with a bow under the tree Christmas morning. And probably, a Transformer toy instead of that Barbie.

Thoughts on the day

There is no general theme to this blog, other than maybe the ramblings of a twisted and backwards day and it serves no purpose other than to blurt out the insane ramblings of today, in true Western Canadian fashion... by quoting an influential person from the United States.

In fairness, I shouldn't say that - Canadians are credible for original thought. But, today, I quote someone from the USA. I think I may have commented on this before, but when ++Schori was starting out her ministry, she was asked what the toughest thing for her was, as a Christian. Her response was simple, and yet - soooo incredibly powerful.

"The toughest thing for me is to remember that I am a beloved child of God."

This was the quote that immediately came to mind today as I opened up my email to read one of those chain letter emails that people forward around to everyone on their contact list that was entitled, "3 Things". The email was simple and read:

There are three things you need to do:

#1 Repent

#2 Forgive yourself

#3 Move on with your life

It went on to say that we cannot do anything to change our past, but we can always change our present and future because yesterday ended last night. It was one of those messages with divine timing, I assure you.

You know what though? Number 1 is honestly the easiest to accomplish. 2 and 3 still seem impossible. Instead of forgiving myself or moving on with my life, I am stuck in that vicious circle of repentance and penance (aka, self punishment). What can I say - if you cut me, I will bleed Catholic blood.

I honestly believe that moving onto #'s 2 and 3 requires a firm belief in that lovely statement of ++Schori, which - for this young seeker, is a long ways away. But at least now, I have something to work towards... maybe?

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!