It's just a piece of paper...

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

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

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

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

In attempt to clean my life up a little bit, I have spent the downtime while I am 'resting' going through various stacks of paper, numerous binders, and resources that I no longer need. It is my desperate hope that by purging my life of all that is from the past, I can truly move forward - wherever that might lead.

One of the piles I came across was a stack of old school student newsletters. As the Student Elected "Spirit Director", students could email questions to a published address and their questions would be responded to as best I could in the published newsletter. However, there was one question that I was never able to answer. I have since found out who sent it, and we've chatted over the years... she always asks if she will ever get her answer and my response has always been, "yes... soon, very soon".

Opening up the addressed envelope, I found her question neatly typed out. Re-reading her question and skipping my 10 page response, got me thinking. This is what she had to ask:

Have you ever wanted something so bad, but you knew that you would never be able to have it, no matter how hard you hoped and prayed and wished upon every star? Have you ever wanted something so bad that it hurt your heart to think about it... but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it? Have you ever wanted something so badly that it was the last thing on your mind when you went to sleep and the first thing on your mind when you woke up the next morning... everyday of the week? Have you ever wanted something so bad that although it brought you tremendous joy to be near it or around it or to think about it, you still feel tremendous sorrow at the same time? Have you ever wanted something so badly that you knew you couldn’t have that you actually started to resent it, based solely on the fact that you could never have it, no matter what you did? How can a person start to forget about that something they can never have? How can a person begin to let go of the feelings and thoughts accompanied with that something? How can a person come to terms with the fact that, no matter how hard they pray of how much they dream or how many times they wish upon a star, they will never see that wish or dream or prayer come true? Is it even possible to let go of that something completely? Or will there always be a part of it stuck deep down inside of you, no matter how hard you try to let go? I know that you won’t have all the answers, but...

It's a long winded question and although I am sure it was on many students minds at the time, I always felt that it was too sensitive and too broad of a question to respond to in a short column. To this day, I am not sure what to tell her. Being completely honest with myself, the answer is yes. Absolutely I have felt this way, I *do* feel this way... I feel this way for three situations in my life right now.

In one situation, I want answers more than anything else in the world because the questions I have, are the questions that keep me up late at night. These ponderings are truly the last thing on my mind every night and (if I'm lucky enough to sleep) they are the first things on my mind when I wake up in the morning. These questions... the desire for answers... is a double edged sword because as much as I want the answers, it pains me know that the answers are beyond my control, beyond my asking. And yes, it is slowly killing me from the inside out, to know that realistically - while I might be able to understand very, very little in reference to getting answers, this wish - this want - this burning, seeking drive... will never work.

In another situation, yes. The difference is that the "thing" I want more than anything in the world, is a person or more accurately, a relationship restored with a person (people). It is the one thing that brings incredible joy into life and yet, in the absence of it, life is dull, mundane, and dark.

And in the third situation - yes. But this time, the "it" is something entirely non-tangible... a feeling, a drive, a forward looking desire.

And yet, being able to understand her question - her hurting search for an answer - I cannot answer it. If I could answer her, in theory, it would mean that I had the answers for myself. That I had lived through my own period of longing for something that I could pass on the infinite wisdom of days gone by. I am not sure what kind of answer she was ever expecting or if she even realized that her question could never truly be answered. Perhaps my response is a one word answer. Perhaps all she needed to hear was: life. Life will come and go, life will change and morph... and through that all, life will bring desires, pains, wants, needs, and above all - questions. But, as life always does, the circle will turn and experience will provide us with the wisdom we need to understand, to grow, to seek further.

How Do you Solve a Problem Like Maria?

Anyone who has seen the Sound of Music film from the 1960-1970's will be able to sing the first line of this song in which the sisters of the order sing about a woman who doesn't seem to fit quite right into the vision of their convent. The life long question that they sing about, is asking how they can solve a problem that is a person. Maria. (aka, Julie Andrews).

What Mother Superior eventually learns, through a series of events, conversations, and failed missions, is that most simply put: you can't.

You cannot "solve" a problem that is someone else. Sometimes, this is the most difficult lesson in life to learn.

The young man I support on a daily basis, will always suffer from the effects of his mother drinking while pregnant. He will never be able to see consequences before he is right in the midst of them. Regardless of how one attempts to reward this young man throughout his life, some would say that he is never, really able to appreciate them. He will do things because someone else, removed from his life, tells him that it's a good idea to do them instead of understanding why, how, or who.

I understand now (and only now) why parents of disabled children get so incredibly frustrated with the system. The system tries to put their child in a box, label them, and send them off into the world of man-eating fish.

Along with a few other mountains in life right now, I am attempting to climb this one. I truly believe, somewhere deep down inside, that this young man is no different than Maria. He is trapped in the walls of a convent, unable to express who he is as a person. A human being. A child of a loving God.

I have three hours before I will show up at work with him today. The topic of discussion that is waiting for me when I get there has to do with whether or not this young man is capable of raising and training a 9 week old puppy. While the majority of people seem to be singing about wanting to "solve the problem", I am internally torn. The problem that requires solving is not this young man, but the conditions in which he lives.

If you'll excuse me, time is running out. I need to try and find my voice - buried somewhere in this pile of blankets. Enough is enough. Someone needs to stand up for him, the puppy, and a future of hope and love. If no one else is going to, then look out because I will.

Life vs the Fog

It is not a large picture. It does not need to be. Everyone can relate to that feeling of helpless lostness when travelling through a foggy patch. I was reminded of this in a very tangible way as I was on my way home from hockey tonight/this morning (our ice time was at 11pm so I arrived home around 1 in the morning).

For drivers (around here anyways), driving in fog requires the perfect balance between driving with a sense of confidence and competence, and tentative caution. Realistically, one could hit a deer or moose and be in serious trouble at any point along the familiar stretch of road and with heavy fog, it is impossible to see anything until it is right in front of you... when it is often much to late to react safely. The same is true for cars or other hazards. A car may have applied their brakes in plenty of time, have properly indicated they are turning and yet... as the car behind them, one has no idea until they are literally feet behind the virtually stopped car.

However, for ones own safety, it is best to drive faster than a snails pace so as to not be rear ended by the over zealous truck that is screaming down the highway. Often, the fog will not lift or disperse if you drive slower... and the flip side to driving a relatively safe and quick pace is that one is through the worst of the fog within seconds and back to being able to drive safely with 100% visibility.

Funny how often life is manifest in the weather situation, do you not agree? How there are always going to be some moments in life in which, momentarily and short term - the answer seems to be that we ought to just stop. Pull over to the side of the road, maybe wait until mid morning for the fog to burn off before continuing on our way. There will most definitely always be those moments in life in which we can not see how many fingers we are holding up, let alone where to turn, where to run, where to hide, where to venture, where to conquer. Those moments in which we are truly overtaken by circumstances beyond our control.

The only challenge that the life/fog paradox poses is that with fog, even an elementary child could point out that the sun will eventually come out and burn through the lower level of cloud or after a certain period of time, the fog will truly lift and no longer be an issue. This is a proven, scientific fact. We know "x" will happen because "y, d, a and n" happened. But with life, the story is different. We don't know what the variables "y, d, a, and n" truly are. Nor do we have the insight to "guesstimate" whether or not "x" is even possible.

Someone should work on changing that sometime soon. Just sayin'...

Dear God

Dear God,

I just want to make it clear at the outset that a letter such as this does not constitute a return from my leave of absence, nor should it be heard as a plea, prayer, or "please" list; just for the record, a letter is not to be viewed as being on talking terms and in this particular case, does not require or necessitate a response (verbal, spiritual, physical, emotional... or any other way that the Holy Spirit may choose to correspond).

I know that we are not talking and may not for awhile yet, but, if we were... I might say this:

Gracious Father,

Years ago, you taught me in an incredibly tangible way, that we need to give to you what is yours; just as a shepherd is the only one who ever really knows his sheep and a master toy maker is the only that can ever truly fix one of his toys... only you can bring peace to minds and hearts of your children. In that spirit of internal healing and understanding, I carry two fellow sheep to the feet of the Great Shepherd now.

In a spirit of acceptance, may each of them in turn, come to know that your love sees no bounds or limitations, transcending all humanly created labels and illnesses. If they fidget while in your arms, may you hold them ever closer as a confirmation that they are not alone and are very much in the arms of love, both tangible and non. May each one of their many tears be dried and consoled and their pain, subside.

But most of all, may each of them be completely overcome and transformed by a sense of indescribable grace so that, once back on the ground, they are confident of the hills there are to climb, resting assured in the faith that you will not leave them to struggle or wander too far or long.

Praying this in the true spirit that unites us all as brothers and sisters in you,

Amen

I guess it's a good thing that we aren't currently talking because that prayer would be a lot to remember every night for a few nights. Oh, and just before I go to attempt sleep for an hour or two, in case you are wondering... I posted this on my blog because I once knew this incredible church go-er and role model who felt strongly that blogs were evil. She was (probably still is) incredibly smart and is right most of the time. I figure if blogs truly are evil, even a silly letter is safe not to be read by you while posted on a blog.

Signed awkwardly in silence

Me.

Lost

Others see me, and tell me that I am lost. They point me out to all their friends and whisper about how I have strayed from "the way", whatever "the way" really is. To them, I am different. I no longer do things the same way that they do, nor pretend to understand the same things they pretend to. Although I look the same as I always have, to them... for some reason, I am different.

But they are wrong. I dare not tell them, for I fear their reaction. I have not changed at all; au contrar as the French would say, for on the contrary, I have not changed. I have withdrawn.

I have pulled myself away from this insane world we all call home for a moment of solace. In an attempt to figure things out, I have pulled back. It is here that I sit, confused, quiet, and tearful. There is nothing that I can do to ease the pain of a loved one or to soothe their stormy lives and so here I pause. I am trying to find courage, discover strength, inspire hope. I am not punishing myself or satisfying those who wish not to see me... but simply problem solving or pondering the many paths I can take upon leaving this inner wilderness. I just need to think through what would be the best for you, one of the few people I would do anything for.

A little rattled

I was asked out today...

... by an occupational therapist who was working with the character I was portraying...

... who seemed to be quite serious about her question about going to the movies, dinner and coffee...

... and who may have been another female.

None of this was actually scripted in the role and while I was banking on some de-briefing afterwards with one of the trainers who was also there doing a role, I was unable to locate her after the sessions were completed.

Um.... can you spell, "AWKWARD" ?? Not really sure how to even go about de-briefing that experience. Hopefully, sometime before this gal graduates, one of her educators or peers will sit down with her and let her know that some things really ought to be left out of counselling/interview sessions with patients. Maybe?

If I could make you tea

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

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

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

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

Until the next time, Cheers Grandad!

An odd day

... and I'm still in bed.

It was a long night with very little sleep happening and while I cannot comment in detail, the summary sounds something like this.

Yesterday, I had two hours of training for an exam that I am working at the end of the month and while this would normally cause me to be absolutely ecstatic (and doubly so as the race car driving friend was DOING the training), it was an immense struggle. Because life happens, I had not looked over the material as well as I should have, even the intelligent questions that I had about it were asked all whilst still sounding stupid, and I even flubbed up one of the easier questions I was asked over that two hour span.

Then, while at work, the young man that I work with had asked if he could put his phone number and coinciding picture in my phone in case I was ever going to be late, (or whatever) and then I could call and let him know. Thinking this was a totally reasonable request, I did not even hesitate to pass my phone over. He was playing around with it as we drove the 30 minutes to our destination, not giving it back to me until we arrived to where we were going and he got sidetracked with catching up with old friends. Totally ok. However, as I was dropping him back off at home, he began apologizing and told me that he may have forgot to hang up from a call or two when he was looking through the contact list.

Sure enough, checking my "who did I call" list, I came across two individuals in my contact list that I had not called personally and whose calls lasted upward to 10 minutes in duration (presumably, this was the point in which their answering machine cut my phone off). Completely embarrassed and apologetic for potentially using up their mailbox, impacting their day, and the like... I called them both back immediately, apologizing for what had happened.

Then, last night on the way to hockey, there I am.... driving down the highway into the city when I start crying. There was no valid reason. I assure you. Rather, I was told by siblings that my car drew the short stick and would need to be parked outside that night so that they didn't have to get up and scrape their windows. For whatever reason, I felt the need to cry.

While at hockey, was defending our goalie in our end of the ice, when some large man from the opposing team came plouging into me from behind. This is, as you know hockey fans, illegal. After an NHL player got his neck snapped because of a hit from behind, this move is enough to earn you an immediate removal from the game as well as a review from the league in which you play. However, the referee felt that this hit did not even warrant a whistle and completely outraged, I first went after the player and then the referee. At which point, there was a game misconduct awarded, but not to the other man, but myself.

For what's it worth, I hate Oct. 7th. Three years ago yesterday marked the day I lost my grandfather and one year ago yesterday marked the day I got a phone call from across the country and seminary life as I knew it, was done.

Sigh.

Today is a day of trying to move forward and find tiny things in life to celebrate - like the fact that it is snowing outside. However, I think that the best way to accomplish that would be to pull the guitar, tune 'er up, and to sing the song that I wrote for a man who deserves to be remembered. Today just as much as yesterday and tomorrow.

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.