So I've spent a lot of time on this blog in the last year upset, a cathartic release valve into the openness of the internet, for better or worse, vaguely throwing my tantrums for some relief.
The written word has always helped me feel a little more "together" when I can take 5 minutes to sit down, and funnel myself, my all over the place emotional self into little black shapes on the screen.
It's helpful, to compose myself in composing (see what I did there) and I know I need to do it more. And I have been, sort of, if not here, on scraps of paper, in notebooks, in sand, in frosting, just bit by bit finding the closure I need to finish of 2011.
In a lot of ways 2011 has sucked. Mark has been injured and sick. I've been sick and hospitalised twice. We've had job change, home change, family change, hope deferred, doors closed. Tears of pain and grief.
In a LOT of ways 2011 has been awesome. Fantastic time spent with family and friends, travel, love, hope renewed, health regained. Tears of life and laughter and joy.
We move forward, and God holds us together, and we keep going. We keep going because at Christmas we celebrate God with us, God with skin in, God here in our day to day, Emmanuel.
Merry Christmas
Friday, December 23, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
The sound of silence
Sorry it's been a while.
I know my last blog post was pretty grim (ok so they pretty much all have been recently) but hey work with what you've got right.
I did mean to post again and try and be a little more cheerful, but for one, that's easier said than done, and for two, I was feeling a little guilty about all of my emotional tirades without actually putting in the framework of our grief and honestly explaining all my rants and ravings to those of you who are actually still reading who don't already know.
Was feeling quite indulgent and arrogant about swimming in my frustration and pain when God knows there is a big huge world out there with MUCH larger problems, and from my first world little life that really is all together peaceful I should probably count my blessings on my fingers and toes, probably 4 or 5 times, and be quiet.
The sun has been shining, the birds have been singing, we've had good friends visiting, hanging out, eating, laughing, relaxing together, work is good, life is ticking on.
But I feel hollow, and that I can't deny.
I was given a ticket to a beautiful choral performance on Saturday night. It was the summer finale for the Vancouver Summer Chor, (Thanks Laura S!) a mishmash group of amazing singers from all over Vancouver who take a break from their more regular more structured choirs to sing and have fun together through the summer, and then end in one big performance, where on one hand they dazzle, and perform with excellence, and then on the other hand they invite members of the audience to come and sing favourite movements with them, welcoming others into their excellence, in a relaxed manor that seems so rare from more classical performances.
They did half the show with excerpts from Handel's Messiah (this was where audience participation was welcomed given the ubiquitous-ness of these pieces) and I have to admit I even chirped along to the soprano part of the Hallelujah Chorus (thanks to church choir for that one!) and it brought tears to my eyes. There were probably 150 people in the choir, and another 400 present to watch, and simply by the laws of averages there was a lot of heart break in that room. People sick, people dying, people grieving, people lost, people in the middle of life changing transition and adjustment. And then little old me, chirping along, and then melting back into a puddle to listen to the rest (including AMAZING presentations of Mozart's Requiem)
Now I know that I could get a lot of response about this, and sure, feel free to comment, I'd love a good discussion, but while I know that it's next to impossible that all the people singing there that night were really realising what they were singing, that there really was a camaraderie that was soul deep, in knowingly giving glory to God, it was still a hugely worshipful thing.
Even if they didn't know it, 400+ people were singing at the top of their lungs, Hallelujah to God in heaven! in the middle of Vancouver, one of the most secular and post-Christian cities I've ever lived, and know it or not, there was great spiritual significance to the whole night.
And it made me feel a little better.
I know my last blog post was pretty grim (ok so they pretty much all have been recently) but hey work with what you've got right.
I did mean to post again and try and be a little more cheerful, but for one, that's easier said than done, and for two, I was feeling a little guilty about all of my emotional tirades without actually putting in the framework of our grief and honestly explaining all my rants and ravings to those of you who are actually still reading who don't already know.
Was feeling quite indulgent and arrogant about swimming in my frustration and pain when God knows there is a big huge world out there with MUCH larger problems, and from my first world little life that really is all together peaceful I should probably count my blessings on my fingers and toes, probably 4 or 5 times, and be quiet.
The sun has been shining, the birds have been singing, we've had good friends visiting, hanging out, eating, laughing, relaxing together, work is good, life is ticking on.
But I feel hollow, and that I can't deny.
I was given a ticket to a beautiful choral performance on Saturday night. It was the summer finale for the Vancouver Summer Chor, (Thanks Laura S!) a mishmash group of amazing singers from all over Vancouver who take a break from their more regular more structured choirs to sing and have fun together through the summer, and then end in one big performance, where on one hand they dazzle, and perform with excellence, and then on the other hand they invite members of the audience to come and sing favourite movements with them, welcoming others into their excellence, in a relaxed manor that seems so rare from more classical performances.
They did half the show with excerpts from Handel's Messiah (this was where audience participation was welcomed given the ubiquitous-ness of these pieces) and I have to admit I even chirped along to the soprano part of the Hallelujah Chorus (thanks to church choir for that one!) and it brought tears to my eyes. There were probably 150 people in the choir, and another 400 present to watch, and simply by the laws of averages there was a lot of heart break in that room. People sick, people dying, people grieving, people lost, people in the middle of life changing transition and adjustment. And then little old me, chirping along, and then melting back into a puddle to listen to the rest (including AMAZING presentations of Mozart's Requiem)
Now I know that I could get a lot of response about this, and sure, feel free to comment, I'd love a good discussion, but while I know that it's next to impossible that all the people singing there that night were really realising what they were singing, that there really was a camaraderie that was soul deep, in knowingly giving glory to God, it was still a hugely worshipful thing.
Even if they didn't know it, 400+ people were singing at the top of their lungs, Hallelujah to God in heaven! in the middle of Vancouver, one of the most secular and post-Christian cities I've ever lived, and know it or not, there was great spiritual significance to the whole night.
And it made me feel a little better.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Bless the one who invented morphine.
I have been thinking about pain a lot recently.
Physical pain, emotional pain, mental pain, spiritual pain.
As a birth doula I've seen lots of pain, meaningful, productive pain, contracting muscles, new life coming into the world. And also some pretty horrific pain, suffering, agonizing pain, needing rescue, needing treatment, pain that didn't go anywhere.
As a babysitter, aunty, godmum and a kid once upon a time, I've seen childhood pain, scraped knees, shampoo in eyes, sisterly hair pulls and brotherly punches. Pain springing from learning, new relationships, testing boundaries.
As a woman, I've felt heart break, distance, relationship failure, illness, death of those I love so dear, loss. Pain that seemed senseless, and almost a punishment for the day to day joy of the life I've chosen.
I had a friend once who told me that pain was good and should be cherished. It was our world's way of telling us something was wrong, something was not as it should be, a marker of something that needed to be fixed. And he was a little right you know, but also so very wrong.
Pain can lead to change which can be good, can lead to learning and growth and maturity, and in our broken fallen world pain is an absolutely inescapable part of our lives, at some point or other.
A doctor told me this week that pain can come just from something passing, cells dying, moving on. And then the pain will go away. Expect it to hurt. Take the help and treatment offered. And know that it will all go away.
I've looked into my dear husband Mark's deep, loving, kind blue eyes so many times in the last 3 weeks and said 'This isn't how this was supposed to be' and he has held my hand, and said 'you're right, it isn't, but we'll get through it'. It will get get better, it will hurt less.
But pain is not how it was supposed to be. Pain, by the grace of God, doesn't have to be the end of the story. It may be a stop along the way, but one day there will be no more pain, no more sadness, no more death, and He WILL wipe every tear from our eyes. And that will be how it was supposed to be.
Physical pain, emotional pain, mental pain, spiritual pain.
As a birth doula I've seen lots of pain, meaningful, productive pain, contracting muscles, new life coming into the world. And also some pretty horrific pain, suffering, agonizing pain, needing rescue, needing treatment, pain that didn't go anywhere.
As a babysitter, aunty, godmum and a kid once upon a time, I've seen childhood pain, scraped knees, shampoo in eyes, sisterly hair pulls and brotherly punches. Pain springing from learning, new relationships, testing boundaries.
As a woman, I've felt heart break, distance, relationship failure, illness, death of those I love so dear, loss. Pain that seemed senseless, and almost a punishment for the day to day joy of the life I've chosen.
I had a friend once who told me that pain was good and should be cherished. It was our world's way of telling us something was wrong, something was not as it should be, a marker of something that needed to be fixed. And he was a little right you know, but also so very wrong.
Pain can lead to change which can be good, can lead to learning and growth and maturity, and in our broken fallen world pain is an absolutely inescapable part of our lives, at some point or other.
A doctor told me this week that pain can come just from something passing, cells dying, moving on. And then the pain will go away. Expect it to hurt. Take the help and treatment offered. And know that it will all go away.
I've looked into my dear husband Mark's deep, loving, kind blue eyes so many times in the last 3 weeks and said 'This isn't how this was supposed to be' and he has held my hand, and said 'you're right, it isn't, but we'll get through it'. It will get get better, it will hurt less.
But pain is not how it was supposed to be. Pain, by the grace of God, doesn't have to be the end of the story. It may be a stop along the way, but one day there will be no more pain, no more sadness, no more death, and He WILL wipe every tear from our eyes. And that will be how it was supposed to be.
Thursday, August 04, 2011
Personality tests
These are my favourite procrastination tool, especially ones that give you pretty pictures.
Apparently, this is me when I'm summed up in a colourful box.
Well ok, several colourful boxes.
Well ok, several colourful boxes.
Sunshine and cookies
It was beautiful outside today, and fresh air made me breathe in deeply, warm and real.
It's been 8 days. Where does the time go.
I know it's been vague on this blog so far about all that has been going on in our lives, if you want to know more details, feel free to ask, for now I'm going to keep going exactly as is. If this frustrates you, you know where the little red 'x' is or how to use your 'back' button. If not feel free to keep reading.
Memories are a strange thing. Grief and memories together are even stranger.
Everything reminds you of something else, something you had, something you hoped for, and missing things becomes tangible, salty and stinging at the same time, like seawater when you get dumped on the beach by a rough wave. You dream of all the alternatives, all the possibilities, and it's easy to forget what was. Good and bad. Or maybe you just remember what you were supposed to?
We are having a dinner party with some dear friends in two weeks. We had been thinking for the last week or so what the theme of this party should be, and tonight I decided.
"Summer favourites"
We are going to get together and share food and stories and memories, and relish the joy that is now. Vancouver can be a bitingly lonely city, but today, it was sunshiny. And I baked really good cookies. Let me know if you want to come over and eat some. It should be sunny and warm out tomorrow....
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Grief in summer
I was speaking with my dear friend Angela this week, and talking about how while on one hand our lives can make us want to shout from the mountain tops and dance, there are days where we want to hide in the dark, quiet and alone, just listening to our breath, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the next drama won't see us, or will wash right over us, giving a gentle reprieve.
But the longer you hide the more numb you feel, and the stranger the world seems when you eventually emerge. So I'm emerging. Well sort of. Still not quite ready for both feet. But here's my toe in the waters of blogging and life.
We just had a sermon series at church about seasons of faith and life, one sunday for each season, and with all our travelling and busyness we missed the week on 'winter' which was the one that felt the closest to how I feel right now, the season I'm in. We are full of grief and pain and sadness right now. We are in winter.
So I didn't want to go on Sunday. I didn't want to be around happy church people. I didn't want to be asked how I was doing, I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to talk about the summer of my faith.
After hiding in the dark, the sun is so bright it hurts your eyes, and you feel like somehow the dinginess of the darkness is still clinging to you too, and you are exposed.
But I did go. And I did cry. Because I know that even though grief and pain and loss are real, and summer feels a world away, it's still inevitable. Whether it's this world or the next, summer is inevitable. That season of taking a big deep warm breath of fresh air and life, and knowing that it will never be taken away again; that season is coming. It might be a world away right now, today, but it's on its way.
Trevor talked about how when we are in bad times, the temptation is to look behind us, at the good times, and yearn, nostalgically, for what is past and who is lost and who we are not anymore. So much so we can get ourselves stuck looking backwards. But God taught Israel that when we look back and see those good things in our past, we should be grateful, yes, and miss it, sure, but that it should remind us of just how much more there is still to be given, and all that is inevitably yet to come. Good things should be Ebenezers, markers of God's goodness, to keep us moving forward, not taunting reminders of all that we've lost.
I have a lot of people to thank from the last month or so. Friends and family who have listened and cried, and prayed, and hugged, thank you for walking with us. You know who you are. We are truly blessed.
I know I'm a huge nerd for what I am about to say, but I've been listening to a lot of Sinatra lately, and the song 'The Best Is Yet to Come' I know that Sinatra is the king of the lounge, but my nerdy Star-trek loving self still loves this version the best............
Favourite line? You think you've seen the sun? You ain't seen nothing yet!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Two sides of the same coin
So over the last couple of weeks things have taken a turn for the crazy, and I'm feeling more and more aware that so many experiences in our lives are just opposite sides of the same coin.
We see the one experience, or the one piece of information from two totally different perspectives based on the time of day, whether you're hungry or whether you're wearing your favourite socks while eating your favourite meal.
And the power to be objective seems so far away.
So much joy, love and hope, and so much confusion, exhaustion and discouragement.
But in the midst of it, God is still so good.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
I believe in a thing called love
It's been a crazy few weeks, and I just sent out a really tough newsletter yesterday, with some of the stuff that's been going on.
I know I've hinted here about how we've been either sad or sleep deprived or overwhelmed.
But yeah. That's all true. But that doesn't have to be the whole story.
I was talking to a really good friend today, my dearest Laura-loo, and while we don't always see eye to eye on everything, we have been through a lot, and she is so special to me. And both of us have been through some ups and downs today, and she said to me today 'there's something really important about just choosing to be happy. I like myself better when i'm happy, so i'm going to be happy'
Now I get that you can't just pretend that everything is rosy all the time, but this morning I woke up with the realisation that discouragement is an insidious and scarily effective tool of the enemy. That sneaky voice that connects everything to everything else, that says that this one new thing is just that next link in your chain of failures and bad news and that you really are a failure. Like Gloria in Modern Family said 'you didn't just do one thing wrong, you do everything wrong.....if you do that I kill you!' (slightly out of context, but *shrug*
Just before we got married, our pastors gave us a couple of marriage books to read, and one of them talked about a "Habit of Happiness"
Choosing to look at the things of your day to day life, yes, as parts of a whole, but also just as individual parts that while they can really truly deeply suck and drain you of all your energy, don't have to rule you. Choosing joy and choosing life isn't easy, and it's one of those things I am even hesitant to write about because it's like when you were in sunday school and they told you to pray for patience, and then everything is harder, more annoying and takes longer and you realise that's how patience grows. What happens when I say 'damn you discouragement (in the fullest sense of those loaded words) I am choosing joy.
Monday was our 2 year wedding anniversary. Two years ago on the 4th of July, 2009, Mark and I became man and wife. It's not always easy, it's not always dignified, but I am so happy that I get to live out life with my best friend. Especially after weeks like this when I know we are in it together....... I was reading my dear friends' blog today (http://www.teampallister.com) and I stumbled on their ultimate road trip playlist....and I found this song....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sRYNYb30nxU
I always said I would play it at my wedding, but some how it slipped my mind..(plus my dad said he would leave if i did hehehe)
Have a listen, and enjoy, in honour of my dear husband Mark, believe in a thing called love :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)