Merry Christmas to the Broken Hearted

This goes out to anyone who lost a family member or friend this year. It's Christmas. This is when you are supposed to hang out with family and friends. Every situation is unique and every person deals with things differently, so I can't say I know exactly how you feel, but I was there once, so I have an idea. Maybe you just don't want to do Christmas this year. You might think it would be too painful with that one empty seat. Maybe your family or friends aren't the open talkative kind and your head is bursting with funny and happy memories of previous Christmases spent with the one you have lost. Maybe you just want to tell the stories so you can feel closer to the person you miss so much, but you don't know how to do it without making the conversation awkward. Maybe you fought a lot with your loved one. Maybe Christmas was never a good memory but a time of more fighting, and now you just want to know that all is forgiven, and you wish you could know that they know that you love them.

This goes out to anyone like the families of the people who died at Sandy Hook in 2012 who have survived at least a year without a loved one and have now been all but forgotten even though you will never forget. You have to face this time of year again knowing that it is supposed to be a happy time, but for you it will always be painful. Now, you don't even have the solace of having everyone know and understand that this is going to be a tough time for you and you might not be the cheeriest Christmas fan. Some people might forget, or you might have made new friends you never managed to tell because it was too hard to discuss.

This is for everyone who didn't make it home this Christmas. If you're lucky (and I hope you are) you have friends to eat dinner with. You might be trying to be positive and pretend you don't miss you're folks, but you probably do. Go ahead admit it. I know it could be worse and you have things to be thankful for, but everyone wants to be with family for Christmas, and I understand if you're disappointed.

This is for the ones who don't have any friends. I wish I knew you. If I do know you and you're in St. Thomas and I just don't realise that you are alone, seriously, let me know. We'll figure something out. No one wants to be alone on Christmas.

This is for my friends from other - war torn - countries. I know all you want for Christmas is safety for the ones you love. Please know I'm praying for that very thing.

This is for the person who can't afford a big dinner or fancy toys. This is for my dad who told me stories of a homeless Christmas in a detox centre when new socks and underwear made him cry because he needed it and because it was more than just a useful gift, it was proof that someone gave a shit.

This is for every person who is hurting this Christmas.

There are many things I could tell you. I could say someone, somewhere has it worse than you and there are still things to be happy for. I could say there are only so many Christmases before we die. I could, but I don't want to. I just want to tell you, that I know you're out there. In the midst of all the family and food and presents, I am thinking about you. I know its tough and I'm ok with you being sad. I've been there. And if you ever need anyone to talk to or watch TV and forget about life with or a big loud family to adopt you, or anything. I can try and make it happen. Seriously.

I don't want your fake friendships

I don't want to sit here anymore, telling you that everything's alright, or worse yet, choking on my words when I admit that it's not. That is the worst. When the darkness comes rushing in - the guilt and shame of knowing I am not ok. You'll all sit there on your imaginary high gilt chairs because you have peace like rivers, you are strong like mountains, you don't fall apart under questions and capsize into oceans of despair when nothing is really even wrong.

You think I am ok because I smile and laugh, joke around, and keep coming back. You don't understand I would rather laugh with people who pretend they're my friends than cry alone in my room, which is what I'd be doing at home.

You say you care about me, and maybe you do, but I can't help but feel that if you did it would be easier to be honest with you. I am so tired of talking about snow and food and who knows what when there is pain and shame and brokenness and oh so many levels of shit inside. If we don't even know how to cry together, are our friendships even real?

Why Churches Make Me Angry

I love the idea of a church, of a bunch of people coming together and saying "I don't understand everything, I make mistakes, and I need help." I even like the idea of a God (and that's a good thing that I like Him, because I believe in Him) who is better, a someone who can help us. I can even stomach a book that can set us all straight and guide us through this confusing wilderness.

In reality, though, I cannot handle church. I cannot handle a bunch of people who claim that their interpretation of the book is right and that they know for certain that there is a God and He is exactly how they think He is. I cannot handle a group of people so unwilling to say "I do not know" or "I do not understand" or "I could be wrong."

Now don't misunderstand me. I've had good experiences with churches. I have met some lovely people whose hearts are big and full of love. They truly believe in God and I admire the vitality of their faith. They only hold so fast to every little idea because they think it's true, and not because they think they are so smart that they figured it all out, but because of that book. It always goes back to that book. They think it is fully true, and I think it probably is, but they think they understand it, and I don't think I do, and that's where the difference is between me and them. And I don't want to suggest that I'm better. Because I've told a lot of people they were wrong and I was right, but only because I felt I had to and I thought it was the nice thing to do, I thought they needed to hear it.

But really I am more comfortable saying "I do not know, I do not understand, and I could be wrong." Mostly because that's all so true.

I could be wrong even in this. I mean sometimes we can prove things right so why not Jesus? Why not believe something fully forever?

In science you cannot prove anything beyond a shadow of a doubt forever. You can only interpret the evidence and make suppositions but if new evidence comes in it may mean a new opinion.

I want to live like that. I believe what seems right, and Jesus seems right to me, but I'm always open to changing my mind.

This makes me willing to listen. When I talk to someone I don't want to hope they will leave saying I'm right. I want to hope we will both leave with a better understanding.

I do not like the unwavering solidity of the church.

There is no room for changing your mind.

There is no room for not knowing what you think. You either agree, and you're in, or you disagree and you're out and you are suddenly just another lost sheep to evangelize. What about those of us who keep accidently falling back onto the fence?

Please don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't believe in God, I'm just willing to admit I could be wrong. I am also on the fence with some things. I think they're right. It makes sense in my head, but I haven't figured out how to fully embrace it with more than just my mind. I want there to be room for being uncertain and uncomfortable. Not so we can all party on the fence. I don't especially like the fence, I just keep ending up here. No, I want there to be room for being uncertain and uncomfortable because we can't move forward (towards recognizing, believing and accepting truth) if we can't admit where we are. I am so tired of being shut up when I try to express how I feel and being told feelings don't matter and being pointed to the truth. Of course, just because I feel something doesn't make it true, and truth is more important than my feelings, but I can't just believe the truth because you say it and it makes sense. My feelings are a mountain I must climb over, and it would be a whole lot easier to do that if Christians were more honest with each other and stopped just toting the party line.

Being Twenty Something

I remember how, back in highschool everything seemed possible.
You'd meet a guy who was decently good looking and not idiotic whose world view sort of matched yours and you'd find out he thought you were decently good looking and not idiotic ad you'd wonder if maybe just maybe you'd fallen in love. I mean you were aware that you didn't know what love was, but it seemed possible that you could find out. And people would make a big deal out of it before you were even sure you knew what was happening, but you didn't care, so you went along with it. Everything was an adventure and when you realised your stupidity you shrugged it off as a lesson learned. Ok, so that's not what love is, we will figure it out someday.

School was stressful, but mostly because it seemed way more important than it really was. It felt kind of nice to be doing something so important. You felt like your nineties meant that the world was your oyster and you could do anything you wanted to.

And speaking of what you wanted to do, you never really freaked out too much about graduation. It wasn't so much that you didn't know what you wanted to do. You did. You wanted to change the world, you just didn't know how, but you had new ideas everyday.

Sure you had problems. Every little end of a friendship or death of a family member became a tragedy. Everything was a tragedy and you were the star of the show. Sure it was a sad show but it felt nice to be important (at least in your mind) you hadn't yet become ashamed of your sorrows, you hadn't yet learned the greater drama of life of which you would be lucky to be considered an extra (a face in the crowd).

Then graduation came and you were slightly apprehensive (for dramatic effect) but mostly excited. Unfortunately, your dreams didn't come true. You didn't get a part time job, you didn't save up to travel the country, you didn't become a famous author of books that would move people's hearts and enlighten their minds. You became a nobody special: another stupid fool who studied a useless degree at a useless university, even though you had vowed in highschool to be a rebel, to beat the system, and never be a lemming.

Sure you met interesting people and had cool experiences and you sure learned a lot, but that just made it worse. You learned how messed up the universe is and how a lot of it is your fault (or the fault of your ancestors). You learned that in the grand scheme of things your problems don't matter. You became ashamed. You felt bad for the mess the world is in. You felt bad for your first world problems.

The worst thing yet is you lost your sense of possibility. You started thinking "If I haven't fallen in love yet, it will probably never happen." and "if I can't understand love with my mind it probably isn't real." You learned fancy new words to express yourself like "it's probably a social construct" but these phrases felt empty and you abandoned them because the last thing you ever wanted to be was a lady in a dark suit giving the bad news to the next generation: "This world is fucked (except you'd say it more fancy) and there is nothing you can do because you can't even understand it because you are stupid and everything is beyond you" Because after all, that is every lecture in a nut shell.

So what do you want to do when you get out of this place? Something to justify coming here but you have no idea what and this fact scares you shitless. Sometimes you'll just be brushing your teeth and you will look in the mirror and think "I don't know what I'm doing here" and you wish you didn't love so many people because then you could just shoot yourself and that would be the easiest escape in the world.

You still want to change the world, but the problem is bigger than that you don't know how. Now you don't know if it is possible.

You feel sad about that, and guilty that this idea is making you apathetic. You feel guilty for the days you don't want to get out of bed.

But you know deep down in your heart that you are probably remembering your younger days with rose coloured glasses. You were just as sad then as you are now, but you are also just as happy. It is not every day that you feel this way, it just feels like a lot when you're in the middle.

The worst problem on your plate right now is you're an average Canadian twenty something with a lot of passion, some knowledge, no wisdom, and no idea what you should do.

You remember that thousands before you have made it through worse. You know your dad was a homeless alcoholic, but he came through the other side and you will too.

You feel stupid and embarrassed for being twenty something and so sad and confused but you know there is an uncomfortable beauty to all of this and you hope that someday you will grow wiser and it will be a lesson to teach you. You hope you will never shake your head at the young and the foolish, because we've all been there. And all you really want to do is open up your arms and hug the broken, and you'll find a way to do it too if you just give it time.

And by you I mean me, but maybe I'm not the only one.

Spiderweb

I am walking just before dusk. My shoes tap over a worn wooden bridge which glows almost orange in the not yet setting sun. Sunshine seems to be everywhere right now. It makes the red buildings glow, it bursts out from between the trees, and it sparkles like diamonds on the river. It seems like too much glory for the earth to contain. Maybe this is why it is about to leave us for the night. It strikes me as strange that this earth gets brighter before it gets darker.

Something is glistening. Even in all this shine it manages to catch my eye: a simple spider web. It shines in the sun an intricate design woven tough and strong by a tiny insect. I am reminded of something I heard once about the strength created by the web’s pattern of design. It is hard to believe when considering the thinness of each strand, or the fact that, with one hand, I could destroy the whole thing and its master too. Is it strong or weak, this spider web? In these thoughts I am reminded of myself and I keep walking.

An honest story about my own struggle with hoplesness and the people who have inspired me to keep hoping

I woke up this morning and thought about the world in which I live and felt like I didn't want to live in it anymore. To me it seemed like no matter how hard I tried I will never be able to make things better. I just started writing about the people I have met. I was trying to express how little hope is left in this world and how many messed up people live in it trying to make it better, but always failing. However, as I wrote it all out I actually started to feel more hopeful.

I have met a lot of people in my time.

I have met punk kids trying to hide their brilliant minds under bright green Mohawks. I've talked to these kids and envied the bits of brilliance they shared with me, but they never gave the fullness of what they had to offer. I don't know why. I always did better than they did in school, even though I was ten times more stupid. Maybe I was just more willing to play into the hands of the system. Maybe they were right not to try so hard, I mean where are they now? Still surviving. Some of them have ok jobs. I'm about to graduate from the system and I have no plans. My hard work has brought me nothing.

All I escaped by not joining them were a few years in dark basements spent trying new drugs which I suppose I'm happy I missed but those years didn't kill them.

Although when it comes down to it, none of us have changed the world.

Whether you waste your brilliance on drugs or your work ethic on homework, in the end it doesn't matter because both are a waste.

Clearly the answer must be that neither of us have tried hard enough to make a difference. Homework and drugs are wastes of time but there has to be something that isn't.

There has to be right?

I'm not so sure.

I met this guy who opened up his house, his pool, and his fridge, to a whole bunch of youth he had gathered from all over the country. Starry eyed young people with love in our hearts and dreams of change in our heads. I was one of them. And I listened to this guy pour out his love for these ten little villages and I couldn't wait to go and make a difference. These villages were different in some ways. There was less diversity in plant life, more dust, the dogs and the children ran free, and houses looked a little different, but the people were the same as anywhere. There was bitterness, there was depression, there was hope, there was faith, there was anger, there was pain, and there was love.

There I worked with this guy who had devoted his life to political change and had a mind full of answers. We befriended our neighbour who was also from far away. Her life was a wandering path that didn't seem to be leading to anywhere special but man did she have a wide open heart. I met this little old man sitting next to his dying wife who had been there forever trying to bring hope to the people but the people were still the same as anywhere else. I loved this man's stamina, but what had he really done for the world?

I think that village is the reason why I'm not all for leaving. Because it seemed like no matter where we go and how hard we work to make things better we will still be left with the same bizarre mix of  bitterness, depression, hope, faith, anger, pain, and love.

That is what I see everywhere I go.

Another time, I lived in the house of an old man, who as best as I could piece together through broken translation had lost his wife and his faith, but not his love. He was bitter and his body was failing and he always seemed grumpy. If you asked him how it went he would answer "it goes" with a sigh (except not in English but in French). Yet when we had our big dinner time discussion about passions he said that his passion was for his friends and family and that he loved nothing better than to cook for and entertain and be there for the ones he loved. He talked and talked and I couldn't quite figure out what he was getting at but he pointed at these pictures on the walls of smiling little children and I could hear his pride and love.

I've met people with hopes and dreams and plans and ideas who think they have answers. Young people with degrees and relationships and experiences whose futures still have hopeful question marks.

I can't help but think that they aren't going to make a difference that the world will never get better that they shouldn't even try, but then I think about all of the other people I have met.

I have met a man who lived through utter hell in Africa and came to Canada as a refugee and I never even bothered to ask him for his whole story, selfish wretch that I am, but he still had love to give me and it was he who came when I was stuck in the woods because of my own stupidity and he cared enough to help me back. Beaten but still strong he was, with a heart that beamed like the sun.

I've met satisfied people with scars that still sting who can turn around and say that it is all ok, and I don't know how they do it.

I have met tired single mums or grandparents who had to be parents again with bags under their eyes and bitterness in their hearts, but some how or another they still got out of bed and dressed and fed themselves and their children and went on off to work. And it is a sad story but isn't it also a hopeful story? Especially when you look at their children and see that they are the future and they could still grow up happy because they are dressed and fed and someone's trying to love them even if that love comes from a tired and weary heart.

I've met people who lived on the streets for many years and did drugs till they were almost dead and then for no real reason except that there was nothing else to do they found themselves crying out to God and all of a sudden they are before me well fed and off drugs with jobs and lives and hope. And sometimes I look at them cynically and think, "What if God is a myth we tell ourselves to get by? What if all of it is lies: not just God but all the things that make people hope in a better tomorrow. What if there never will be a better tomorrow. Maybe we should all just give up and go back to bed and never get out and never try and never hope anymore. "

But what would be the point of that?

The thing that gives me hope is how much hope is out there.

All I need to do is to be courageous enough to believe, like all those people I have met, that there is something worth holding onto.

We may never make the world a better place, but at least we won't quit.

The Multiplicity of Voices

So I'm standing in a room right, and this person comes up to me and says "you are a woman, act like it." So I cock my head a little to the side and look at them confused while they say some other stuff. They talk quick. I don't understand them. They walk away. I'm still standing there. Someone else comes running up and starts talking about how mad they are at so and so and I'm pretty sure they are talking about that first person, who told me to be a woman and what that should look like. "Who cares!" yells this second person. "Be whatever you want to be, in fact it is your duty as a woman to not be the type of woman they want you to be so that you can show them that you can be whoever you want to be." This person's is angry, woah! I like the way they get so into it. I like their passion, but holy elephants I have no idea what they are talking about. I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure they just told me that I should be who they want me to be and not who this other person wants me to be because no one should tell me who to be. I'm not sure if that makes sense.

So I'm standing there with all this stuff in my mind trying to figure it out and ANOTHER person comes on up and yells at me for standing around "Do something! Take action!" and poof they're gone. Do something? Right, ok, but what? WHAT?

So I'm standing their looking at my feet when someone comes up and says "But what do you believe?" "Believe?" I say, "Believe about what?" And they rant at me for hours and hours, telling me what to think and believe about everything under the sun, but they are soon joined by someone else who thinks some other things and then the two of them yell at each other and I'm still standing there, confused and looking at my feet.

Well I suddenly realise my feet won't move if my brain doesn't tell them to, but my brain is so confused I don't know what to do. So I do the only thing I still can do and I sit down. So I'm sitting on the ground and I start to cry because it's the only response I can muster. The tears are flowing when someone rushes up and tells me to stop complaining so I bight my lip and I bight my lip and I bight my lip and I bight my lip, but the tears finally come again and someone else comes and yells at me for not reaching out and getting help. "I'm here for you!" they say and then run away again. Now I have this vague notion that I'm supposed to talk about my problems, so the next time someone rushes over I open my mouth and I talk and I talk and they say "Stop talking and listen!" and someone else says "You think too much!" and another person says "Get up, get up!" And I am so tired of the voices and the yelling so I roll behind a tree and hide.

I close my eyes and plug my ears, but the screaming has somehow gotten inside and I can still hear it, because now I am yelling at myself in all their voices and there is no escape from the multiplicity of voices, because there is no escape from myself.

Five lies I wish we would stop implying to children

Number One:
You are your job.
Think about it, when you are bored and trying to feel like you understand the younger people of your life, what do you do? I don't know about you but I ask them what they want to be when they grow up or try to find talents or interests of theirs that could turn into a career. I NEED TO STOP. We are not our jobs or lack there of. I have no idea what we are but we are not our jobs. It is perfectly ok if you want to and are able to find a job that you feel makes the world a better place or one that you really enjoy doing, but if you need to work a job you hate that just makes fat people fatter (yay fast food) to put money in your pocket so you can eat and pay rent so you can keep on living: that is OK. That is not the end of the world. There are so many more important things to ask each other. Like what do you believe? what is your opinion on that? what do you value? what do you like doing? (and hobbies can just be hobbies) what do you have to offer the universe (we can help the world in so much more than just our jobs)? Great job to you if your career is something you like doing that fits with your beliefs and values that makes the world a better place but we can't all have that so stop acting like the whole point of childhood is putting them through a worker making machine. School is not a worker making machine. It is not even a "here's how or what to think" place. I think school should merely be a semi safe laboratory for children to experiment with what they think about the universe and how they want to exist within it.

Number Two:
You need to kiss somebody for a fulfilling life. (oh Disney)
NO.
8 year olds have boyfriends and girlfriends now a days.
When I was 8 my best friend was a boy but our hanging out involved pretending we were peter pan and captain hook and having sword fights with sticks.
TRUE STORY.
Some people fall in love eventually and that is just fine and dandy, but some people don't and that's ok too. Unless you want to be a hermit, just remember there are always moms and dads and uncles and aunts and cousins and brothers and sisters and friends and neighbours and children and the elderly and sick people and prisoners and poor people and co workers and cats and dogs and fish and ducks and trees to love and that love - whatever it is - is so much more than just romance and kissing and crap and so is life.

Number Three:
You are special.
Nope, you are human.
Do you want to know why I love Shakespeare? Because he wrote this love sonnet that basically said "you are gross and stupid and I love you anyways" and I thought "dawg, that's love." You are human and that makes you stupid and a failure and lots of people disagree with me on that but we have all heard the saying "nobody is perfect" right? So I'm just taking it a step further and saying "bro you aint perfect, ya suck" and we are capable of horrible world suck that makes me sad. But here is the deal. We can still love each other. Babies are narcissistic but we love them. That is where forgiveness comes in and forgiveness is quite possibly my favourite thing ever because it is a complex beautiful concept that actually makes sense and works. So don't make kids feel like you hate them because they are failures. Let them know, gently, that they suck and that you forgive them and love them and always will.

Number Four:
You can do anything you want to do.
My mom just smiled and nodded when I said I was going to write the great Canadian novel, but when I said I was going to climb mount Everest she told me that I couldn't.
Why? Because my mom is amazing and doesn't lie to me. I can write a good novel if I put a lot of effort into it. I couldn't climb a mountain if I tried for the rest of my life. It is ok to just not tell your kids where their limits are and let them find them for themselves, but golly gee don't make them think they have no limits. Because they do. I believe we all have gifts but I don't believe we are all gifted with everything.

Number Five
Everything is going to be ok:
You know the drill. Kid comes home crying because elementary school life is getting them down and you promise that life gets better. WHAT IF IT DOESN'T? What about homelessness, and joblessness, and suicide, and rape, and murder, and depression, and racism, and cancer, and all sickness, and confusion, and anger and abuse and all the horrible things out there. Your kid's life could be a living hell. Don't tell them it is going to get better, don't tell them you will always be there because separation is possible. Promise things you can deliver on. Tell them no matter what happens you love them. Because love goes on even through separation. Tell them that things COULD get better and to never stop trying if they can find that strength within them. Tell them you will always do your best to help them fight world suck. If you believe in God tell them about heaven and stuff but don't tell them that things will get better on earth because they might not.

I'm not saying we have to tell kids right from the womb that the world sucks. They will figure it out eventually. Just don't tell them lies. You don't have to tell them the truth full out right away. Just don't lie to your kids. It drives me crazy.

Crying over...lost bread? Hope for when every day life seems too crazy to handle.

I had a very weird day today. I don't know if it is because I am a teeny tiny bit sick or because I have been having a teeny bit of trouble sleeping lately, or if it just had to do with a long confusing day of broken dryers, confusing bus schedules, and sad books being read for school, or if there is a bigger issue at play. Whatever the cause. I found myself, late this afternoon, standing in the middle of the kitchen and crying about bread. Bread! Isn't that the silliest thing to cry about?

See, what happened is that I finally decided that I might be feeling the way I felt because I was hungry so I went to make a sandwich and couldn't find my bread. It shouldn't have been a big deal, in fact it should have even been funny. It turns out one of my house mates had accidently taken my bread thinking it was theirs and they were more than happy to give it back.

However, sometimes I just get so mentally or emotionally tired I feel totally incapable of figuring out life, even of figuring out something super simple like finding a lost loaf of bread.

I was thinking about it and came to the conclusion that I cannot possibly be the only one who cries about simple things like missing bread.

If you cry over lost bread too, I just wanted to share something with you.

Today I texted someone I have known my whole life whose birthday is coming up in about a week asking what she would like me to get her for a gift. I've always been the one who doesn't know what I want. She always used to know, but she texted me back that she doesn't want anything. She told me she has everything in the world that she wants or needs.

I was blown away. I had pretty much come to the conclusion that peace and joy were old wives tales. I have been trying like crazy to believe they are real, but sometimes it is easy to get to a place where I loose sight of what is important and what I really believe is true and what I believe are lies that I shouldn't listen to. Sometimes it is really easy to get lost in the throws of a confusing moment and feel too weak to bother, but I really and truly don't think this has to be the end.

I believe that there is something we can all put our hope in that won't disappoint.

I would like to leave you with one last thought: it is a process.

A friend of mine talked about processes the other day and I thought to myself "oh yeah right I forgot, things take time." My whole life I've been trying to do or say or understand the thing that will make everything better. I keep forgetting that it is a process and I get really ashamed when a bump comes along in my road and I find myself standing in the kitchen crying about bread. I get angry with myself because I think that I should have it all figured out and that I should have finally found peace and joy and hope. I worry that maybe I'm just a liar and that I was wrong or that what I hope in and believe in is all lies. The other possibility may be that it is ok to sometimes find yourself unable to deal with everyday life. The other possibility may be that I'm not alone. Maybe there are people all over the world who cry about bread. Maybe getting to the place where you can laugh over lost bread is a slow journey, and maybe it is one we don't have to go on alone.

My Grandmother's Legacy: The VMS Clan as a Metaphor for the Body of Christ

My grandmother died almost two weeks ago. I have been meaning to write something about it for the longest time because that is how I figure things out and I like sharing my process with other people in case they are going through the same sorts of life times, but I couldn't put any of my thoughts or feelings into written words. I kept trying but it wasn't working. Then the other day I was thinking about life and something came to me: families. This is the thing I ranted to my mother about most during our late night talks after the death of my grandmother who was her mother. I talked about how it felt right that all of her brothers and sisters and even a lot of my cousins were gathering together. I went to so many campfires and things. There was a lot of laughter. It was fun to all be together. Maybe that sounds inappropriate, but it felt right. I felt like we were honouring my grandmother. I feel like we are her legacy: the thing she is leaving behind. Now someone in my family said that my grandmother was a ordinary woman following an extraordinary God. That is true and I know that is how my grandmother would like us to remember her. She wouldn't want us to say a lot of fancy words about what she did on this earth, but yet there is something to be said for the family that she and my grandpa (who died before I was born) created together by the grace of God. It isn't so much like something showing off how awesome she was though. I think it is something that shows off how awesome God is. I was thinking about it when I was talking to my mum...about how the VMS clan is an example of the body of Christ. We always help each other, but in our own little way. Some people give rides, others fix houses, others baby sit children or pets, and others give hug. We all do what we can and it is never a direct exchange like "I'll watch your dog if you drive me to school." Life just kind of happens and we don't keep track of what favours are given to who or by who. I just always know that my mom's family is there if I need them. I hope they think of me as someone who is there for them if they need me. It is a spider web of good deeds, and that is stronger than a direct back and forth exchange.

All of that was just muddled up in my head and heart, but earlier this week I was thinking about what I am going to do with my life. The thought crossed my mind: what if I fall in love, get married, and have kids. Would that make me boring if my adventure stopped and I stopped travelling and gave up academic learning and my husband and I just worked, bought a house, raised kids, made dinner, cleaned, and paid bills. Are people who do that just selfishly channeling all of their awesomeness back into their own family and just living to continue living instead of trying to make a difference in the world? Is making a strong family making a difference in the world?

Then it hit me. My mom's family is like a metaphor for or an example of the body of Christ. Being in a family is loving your neighbour. It is what the Christian life is all about.

Maybe God didn't call us to love strangers in some mechanical "I'm purposefully trying to make the world a better place" kind of way. Maybe it is supposed to be more natural.

This all came back to me tonight when I was visiting friends from my church I haven't seen all summer. It felt like I was coming home to a family and I was reminded of a thought I'd had: families don't have to be biological. You can adopt your family or be adopted into a family. Your friends, classmates, or coworkers can become your family. Sometimes I feel like wherever I go I'm making new family members, and maybe that is the point. Maybe life is about going out and making a family. I'm finding people to love sure, but we are not perfect love machines we need the strong supportive spider web of family to love us as we love them so we can love them. And the best kind of families, I like to think, are like my family, they are the ones that always have room to expand to add new people. Growing up, when my clan got together for thanksgiving there were always friends of family, but we treated them like family. People in my family got there by a whole variety of ways, but I care about them all the same. So I suggest you find a family, create a family, and grow grow grow it. Because for me that just might be the only way I know to live.

Self Forgivness: My new life goal.

I hate to sound like an over dramatic old lady, but sometimes I just get really overwhelmed by how quickly life goes by. I am about to begin my final year of my university undergrad. The last few years of my life have been eventful. I have enjoyed them. I have made a lot of awesome memories and a lot of awesome friends. I am not really saddened by the ends of these times because, as cliché as it sounds, I know that every end is a new beginning and I'm excited for whatever the future holds. What saddens me about this end is the heavy weight of guilt and regret. This is a feeling I have carried with me for a long time. I have suffered these feelings in regards to not only my young adult years, but also my teenage years and my childhood. I have been plagued for a long time by every good thing I didn't do and every bad thing I shouldn't have done. In every moment I am plagued by who I am and who I am not and these feelings have a tendency to choke me and keep me from living the moment to the fullest. Then I am plagued with regret because I think I could have done a better job at work or school or had more fun if I had been less distracted by self hatred. It is a complex but vicious circle.

As a Christian I believe that Jesus's death forgives all of the bad things I do and yet I also believe that Jesus shows us, out of love, the best way to live ant that someone truly living under his forgiveness will be learning to walk in his footsteps, so - to be honest - in many ways my faith has increased my guilt where it is supposed to free me from condemnation.

I am coming out of a tough summer. I have been working at a camp and feel really discouraged and sad all summer because I have been focussing on my weaknesses as usual. I've been negative around my fellow staff when I should have been encouraging them and I've been too tired emotionally to really do my job right and this has just added to my self hatred. As the summer comes to an end I am left with a choice. I can go into my last year of university full of regret because of how I have spent my summer and just keep the cycle going, or I can end the cycle here and now with forgiveness.

 I can worry till I am blue in the face about how Christianity really works and whether or not I am really saved, forgiven, and loved, whether or not I really  believe in Jesus, and whether or not I am being sanctified or I can just choose to live like I have been forgiven and forgive myself.

In the words of John Green, I truly believe that forgiveness is the only way out of the labyrinth of suffering.

I know a lot of people who believe that focussing on forgiveness can cause complacency where people just do whatever they want to because they are forgiven but I'm going to experiment this year. I don't think that will happen with me because I am already tough on myself making sure I am responsible, and I think  forging will just inspire me to forgive others. At any rate, being really tough on myself, trying to figure everything out, and focusing on my failures have not been working in my life. They have not been making me a happier, wiser, or more loving person. I have reached a point in my life where I can't take things being the same anymore. I don't want to live a life of guilt and condemnation. I am choosing to forgive myself.

This is my goal for the new school year. You are welcome to join me if you like, or you are welcome to think that I'm foolish, but this is what I'm doing. I still need to come up with a specific plan of how I can make this work, but I'm starting right here and now by forgiving myself for the mistakes I've made this summer. This has been as summer for learning and I was still able to do ok despite my dark mindset, and Jesus died for these mistakes too, so I'm choosing to forgive myself and learn from my mistakes.  

Dear little man

Dear Leonard James Allen Hannah, (Woe boy, that’s a mouthful!)

                Welcome to the world little man, and oh what a world it is. My hope for you is that you will always have a smile on your face, food and water in your belly, clothes to wear on your body, a roof over your head, and someone who loves you at your side. However, I’ve been around long enough to know that life doesn’t always go the way we would like it to. One thing I want you to know that I think you can understand - even though you are a baby and cannot yet read, write, or talk – is the concept of family. You can’t even say dada yet, but I bet you feel safe with your mum, dad, grandparents, etc. I bet you can recognise the faces and voices of your family. It is my greatest hope that you would count me as one of the people you can feel safe with. Here is the thing little man. I am far away right now and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be chilling in the same end of the universe as you, but I will always come if you need me. I will always love you. Even if you cry every time I come near and never decide to love me back and even if you grow out of your good looks into an ugly alien, I will always love you. Like I said before, “welcome to the world little man, and oh what a world it is.” It isn’t always pretty, it doesn’t always make sense. It is my hope that you will find not just joy but also truth. Unfortunately I don’t feel capable of giving you wisdom. I don’t know for sure what the truth is. I can only tell you what I believe. I don’t know how to be joyful. I can only give you love little man, that is all I have. That is why, of all the things I could tell you about, I chose family. I am your family little man. I’m here for you.

With love from far away,

Auntie Riss

What is love?

I have struggled for a long time with the concept of love. Not romantic love just plain old straight up love for all others. I have written about this before on this blog, most notably here: http://aragtaghooligan.blogspot.ca/2013/02/what-is-love-anyways-how-at-21-i-am.html.  What is it, I wonder, and why or how do we do it? I realised this summer that I used to think it was an emotion. I talk about that in the other blog, how I believed that we love people when we see something good in them that we enjoy which inspires us to want to care for these people. I talked about how God loved us by dying for us when we were still His enemies and how I wanted to be able to love other people even when they didn't deserve it. To be honest I don't struggle to love people very often. It isn't because I have a good perspective of love or because I am awesome or anything. It is actually because I still cling to the view that love is a reaction to the good in people. I always try to see the good in others, this helps me to forgive the bed in them. I have difficulty accepting love from others because I don't see anything good in myself. I figure that people don't actually love me but acting like it is something they do out of a sense of duty. I have always thought this most about Christians because, like I talk about in my other blog a little bit, the Bible encourages us to love like Christ did. However I was talking with a friend today and I think I finally figured it out. Love isn't a reaction to the good in others and it isn't something you just do out of duty. It clicked when my friend talked about the baby my sister is pregnant with right now. "Are you going to love your nephew?" he asked me. "Yes," I answered. "Why?" He asked. "Because he is my family," I said and then he said the obvious "In Jesus we are all family." I have heard this a lot but it never really clicked. I still don't really understand how people can love me when I don't deserve it, but I have decided to let them. I have decided to believe them instead of feeling guilty about it, worrying that they are soon going to stop loving me when they find out what I'm really like, or thinking that they are just pretending to love me because they have to because if they really can love an unlovable person like me that isn't a sad or robotic thing, it is a beautiful thing that the world needs more of and maybe I should even encourage it.

Poetic Musings

I am sitting on the wooden bench again. I'm watching grass dance with wind. I'm zoning out and I've got my headphones on, but the laughter still comes whistling in. A line comes through the music and it is the question of my heart, "maybe, just maybe, I've come home." I have been so many places, met so many faces, and gotten so close to love, yet there is always a but. There is always a sort of darkness in my mind that just tries and tries to stomp out the light. I close my eyes and all these places dance on by. I'm remembering all the times of this here life. When I look backwards like this it seems so beautiful. I always see the sunshine, the smiles, and the laughter. I can feel the warmth and the love and I miss those times that have passed me by now, but if I could really enter those moments I'd be back in the darkness for most of it. If I could go back I'd be lonely even when people are around, because I rarely believe it when they say they love me. Now I am not there I am here and there are worries and fears there are trials and even a few tears on the seams of my heart but there is wind and rain and sun and this love that is always here waiting for me to believe it and receive it. What will I do? Will I embrace the moment? Will I love where I am and live in this moment with joy in my heart. Will I be thankful for the poetry of a cricket orchestra? Will I sing the song and dance the dance and shine the light I was born into the earth to bring?

Pondering out Loud

I wonder what it would look like if the core of our beings could be written in words. I would love for all the tangle of thoughts, actions, needs, and speech to be written down clear for my eyes to see. What are we really at our essence? Are we just a living thing? Are we just a collection of Protons and Neutrons making atoms making molecules making bone, muscle, organs, and flesh? And what is the point of this complex thing that we are? Are we just eating and sleeping to stay alive so we can do it all over again? What about our brains? Our brains can feel emotions, they can choose to like or to dislike, and they can busy themselves all day with questions or worry. What is the point to all this activity? It confuses, confuses, confuses. There is a darkness falling like smoke because of the tangle of thoughts and feelings as all within my brain mixes with all that is in yours. There are so many lines and levels. This life is so complex I loose track of what I feel, of what I want, and of the reasons why. What is it all for?

I believe we are here. We cannot change that unless we end our lives but there is so much that we could try to enjoy, so much that we could be thankful for, so much that we could do to make the world a better place. Perhaps we just need to choose to seize the day?

If we choose to seize every moment are we living just to enjoy life because we have it so why not? Is that all there is to it?

I believe something must have happened for us to be here. Something must have caused us to exist. I believe this something or someone is so great and powerful that it is beyond my comprehension but I believe it is still active and I call it God.

I believe we were created out of love and out of love we have been sustained and saved. It is because of love that we remain and can be freed from our stains.

And here we are in the middle of the confusing life I was talking about and we need to be thankful we are clean and we need to love back because we have been loved. We were made from love to love and out of love we have been healed on the inside.

When there are so many clichés why are the answers not satisfying?

When it is possible to keep it simple why does my brain overload with all the complexities?

There has been a gnawing within me for mostly all my life and I'm wondering what do I want? What will satisfy?

If I have food and water, warmth, protection, fun, and love (though I've never learned to believe it). What more do I need?

All the thinking, the desiring and the questioning, is it worth it? Is this a waste of time, is the answer much more simple than it seems?

To those who feel like God can't use you:

Hello, as you are most likely aware, my name is Laurissa. Today, I feel like telling you a story. I am not a very talented person. For the sake of kindness and love, most of my friends would disagree with me. They are right in the sense that God has pretty much given us all some sort of gift, but if you were to just look at me without much attention given it might be hard for you to tell what my gift(s) is(are). I am not physically fit or coordinated. I am not brave, I have no rhythm, I am tone deaf, I am not much of a leader or a teacher, and I am not especially good at team work nor am I very innovative. However, I work at a camp. An adventure camp to be specific. With lots of high ropes, water sports, archery, riflery, and a worship team. I am not certified in any of the special activities and I can't help with the worship team. How does this work? When I first came here last summer I felt like I had made a really big mistake. I felt like I could not be of any use here. I still feel that way sometimes. Just yesterday I told someone I don't like adventure and they said "well you're in the wrong place then." So why did I come back? I still ask myself that sometimes. It is tough sometimes being surrounded by people with a skill set that is either very different from yours or much more various than yours or both, but I am continually reminded of two things. Number one: it aint me who is awesome, it's God. So the first reason I am here is because I'm pretty sure He wants me here. He can use anyone anywhere, because He's God and he has chosen to use ME HERE and that might seem like an odd choice, but I'm ok with it because it's God and I'm thinking He knows what He's doing. The second thing I'm constantly being reminded of here is that He HAS given me some gifts. They aren't necessarily the same gifts as those around me. I don't necessarily have as many gifts or as much of a variety as gifts as others, and I'm not necessarily as well versed at using my gifts as others are, but I think He has given me gifts that He wants to help me learn how to use.

So that's my little speech, but here is the story I promised you:

Last year a couple weeks into camp I was feeling pretty down. I had tried really hard to get certified, but it didn't work so I was leading a lot of random activities that don't require certifications. People were trying to convince me that people were needed for these activities too and that there were not a whole lot of people who could bring as much enthusiasm and energy to these random activities as I could, but I didn't necessarily believe them. Then something quite interesting happened. I heard that someone was still needed to work one on one with a guest who was coming to the camp for the rest of the summer. I already had experience working one on one with people and it's something I love to do. Not only that, but just because of the way this camp works the only people who could switch over to this other job were female assistant cabin leaders which just happens to be what I was. However, I have a lot of trouble with confidence, so I thought to myself: I won't be good at this, someone else will do a better job. So I didn't tell them I wanted to do it and, though I didn't know it, they kept searching with no real leads. I did do one good thing though, I prayed. It was kind of a funny prayer, but it worked. This is what I prayed "Hey God, I really want to do this thing, but I don't think You want me to. I think You probably haven't called or equipped me to do this. You are probably going to provide someone who would be much better at this. However, just in case I am misunderstanding You, I want You to know that I really do want to do whatever You want me to do. Therefore, if You actually want me to do this, You know how my mind works better than anyone and You know how to change it and I would love for You to change my mind to suit Your will, whatever Your will is."

So a little while after I prayed that slightly odd prayer one of my boss/ supervisor type people came up to me and said they still needed someone to do this job and they thought I would be good at it, would I be willing? I was blown away. God knows that I have trouble saying no to people when they need my help, and He also knows that I needed to know that someone else thought I could do the job and that there was no one else available who was capable or willing to do a better job. He knew how to change my mind and He did. It was kind of funny in a way.

Anyways that is my story from last year. The moral is that God doesn't just utilise super duper awesome folks, he can utilise you too, have no fear. It's a lesson I'm learning again and again and again, but hey that's ok. Here's to continued learning.

Pros and Cons

Choices/Pros/Cons

·         Masters of Library Science

Pros

1.       It opens up a larger variety of work opportunities than the librarian technician college program.

2.       It would let me work in a small town where there are fewer librarians in each branch.

3.       It could lead to being the head of the children’s department which would mean puppet shoes and program planning.

Cons

1.       Masters programs are hard.

2.       Being a librarian involves computers.

3.       Libraries may be going extinct.

·         Library Technician College Program

Pros

1.       It is quicker than the masters program.

2.       It is probably easier than the masters program.

3.       It might make it easier to get jobs within big cities where there are more technicians hired than librarians.

Cons

1.       Being a library technician involves computers.

2.       Libraries may be going extinct.

3.       It would be harder to work in a small town.

4.       It wouldn’t let me be the head of a children’s department.

5.       It offers less of a variety of types of employment.

 

·         Teacher’s college

Pros

1.       It is just one year.

2.       It would let me work with kids.

3.       It would make my BA seem useful.

Cons

1.       There are no teaching jobs.

2.       I sometimes have a hard time explaining things to kids.

·         Staying in Peterborough after school and trying to find work.

Pros

1.       I get to stay in Peterborough with my friends, church, the lovely river, my favourite coffee shop, and the places where I love to volunteer.

2.       I would get a break from school.

3.       I wouldn’t have to work the job I found forever. I could always go back to school.

4.       It is easy to find a place to live there that is relatively cheap because I could keep living in student housing.

5.       I have enough money saved up to live for at least the summer maybe longer if I could find a place to sublet for a bit. If I couldn’t find work, I could always move back in with my mum in St. Thomas after my temporary rent was up and just be a bum till I make a new plan or work at Starwood.

Cons

1.       There are very few jobs in Peterborough.

2.       There is a lot of competition for every job.

3.       I don’t have a lot of lovely looking work experience.

OR

·         Go to college for a program other than library technician (For example: Early Childhood Educator, or that one job that takes a three year college program and has something to do with working in a class room with students with exceptionalities that I forget what the name is)

Pros

·         I can choose something I actually want to do instead of just doing something that is available to me based on the education that I did just because I wanted to do it for fun.

·         College is supposed to get you a job quicker than university.

Cons

·         More school

·         More money

·         More research

·         What if I still don’t get a job.

When You Hate Yourself For Being Different

A little while ago, I found myself asking this question: why does everyone say you need to love yourself when we are so messed up with badness. I talked about this a bit in my discussion of forgiveness (of self and others) here - http://aragtaghooligan.blogspot.ca/2013/06/for-times-when-you-sort-of-kind-of-just.html but I have something else to say on this subject. I think that sometimes we fall into the trap of hating something about ourselves that isn't even bad. I think we sometimes hate things about ourselves because we see that other people don't like these aspects of our personality and we assume that this means that it is something really bad. HOWEVER, in the past seven weeks of living in Quebec and working at camp and discussing all sorts of complicated things with my friends I have come to the following conclusion: It is possible for two people to be different in such a way that their differences cause them difficulties with communication without the differences being rooted in a sin or bad trait in either person. If you went to kindergarten ever (and even if you're like me and you never did go to kindergarten) you probably know that people are like snowflakes. We are all different. The world would be boring if we were all the same and it would also be difficult to get anything done because everyone would have the same skills and some skills would be had by no one. It takes all types of people to make things work. Or in Christianese: we are the body of Christ and we all have different God given gifts. We pretty much all know this, but it is hard to actually walk it out. Part of the difficulty is to work with people we don't understand and who may annoy us, but for me I also find it difficult not to hate myself when I know that other people have difficulties with my personality. It is good to try to understand how others work, it is good to try to respect others by not doing what annoys them if you know that something you often do annoys them, but I don't think it is necessary to go and hate yourself because you aren't like them. It truly is ok to be different.

A little meditation on my trip and a rant about why I aint down with being reasonable.

I have decided that I'm not a fan of realism. I just got back from a rather impractically planned adventure. I took a twelve-ish hour bus ride to north eastern Quebec to learn French for five weeks. For starters it was impractical because my bus left at 12 am, or something crazy like that. Why would I buy a ticket for such an ungodly hour? Especially when I live in a super sketchy town. It was because of the second impractical aspect of this whole adventure. I didn't speak French, like at all. I knew how to say "Good day, or morning, or night, my name is Laurissa, I do not know, and I do not understand, but it is very poetic, and I like potatoes, yes! good? Well? Bad? No? Maybe. Excuse me thank you my friend." (That is literally very close to all I knew how to say but you'd be surprised how many different things you can say by rearranging the words in that sentence.) So I didn't know French and I had signed a sheet promising to only speak French for five weeks. I was going to be living in a stranger's house and going to school with more strangers and I wouldn't be able to speak English with any of these strangers. To top it all off I was going to arrive alone in a strange city where few people spoke my language after a 12 hour bus ride and have to figure out how to get a taxi. I didn't want to face this mountain at night so I left in the night so I would arrive in the day. It wasn't a very reasonable thing to do, it could have been dangerous. But at the last minute my roommate volunteered to drive me to the bus station and all is well that ends well.

The day we all got sorted into our classes the head of the program spoke to us in English one final time. He said that everyone in class one or two (I was in class one) was very courageous, and in my head I wondered if he was using courageous as a synonym for foolish. The whole first week I kept asking myself what I was doing there. I didn't understand my professor and it seemed like everybody else did. I didn't understand my roommates who were in class six and could have full out conversations with each other or with our host. I definitely didn't understand our host. I was relived that my roommates could do most of the talking, but he kept asking me questions and trying to include me in the conversation and challenging me to use French and I just really wanted to go hide. Nothing about this makes me think going there was a reasonable decision and in that first week I wondered "Why did I waste money to come here? I'm probably not going to learn anything. I'm too stupid. Everyone else here is smarter than me. I am slow in English and in French I'm down right stupid. Everyone probably hates me." But you know what? Five weeks later and I made friends, learned French, got better at charades and interpreting context, learned about a culture very important to my country, and grew as a person. It wasn't a very reasonable decision but I'm glad I made it.

When my five weeks were up I got on a bus at about ten in the morning on a Friday and finally got off my last bus at about 12:30 on the Saturday. Everyone kept asking me why I was travelling so far.Was I from that far away? Nope. I was going to a wedding. Yep that's right, more than 24 hours on a bus or in a bus station just for one day and night reunited with old friends to celebrate the marriage of a lady I look up to very much. Not only that but I got there about a half an hour before the ceremony started and had to change into my dress in the church bathroom. Please tell me what about this is reasonable? But you know what? I am so happy I did this. The close call was stressful but it makes a funny story and it was so worth all the hours and money I put into travelling to see all these people again and celebrate the love of one of the ladies I look up to.

All of this pondering was brought on by a conversation I had in broken French with my lovely colocataire in Quebec. I had been reading this book about this pastor's wife who was very poor and couldn't have babies so she went and adopted 12 unwanted children because she just wanted to love on them even though she and her husband didn't really have the funds. It worked out though. One way or another those babies were clothed, fed, and loved. So I read this book and I was like holy cracker jacks screw school I just want to be a mum, I just want to be done school and married and opening up my doors and my cupboards and my arms to all the broken, lonely, hungry, unloved children in this here world. Why is loving so complicated I wailed in broken French. Why do I need a husband and money and a house and food and to be approved by an adoption company and probably a job why can't I just get on with loving the world? And I would just like to say that I love my colocataire and I think she is a lovely poetic lady with a giant ocean of a heart and so much love its just that she also has a drop of reason, but its a good solid balance to all her poetry.

I think she said something along the lines of that I need money and maturity and things like that to make my love helpful. It's all well and good to open up our arms with good intentions but if we don't add a bit of reason to those intentions we could end up making a mess of our attempts to love the universe.

And there is truth in that. Want to know what I mean? Just read or listen to some academic discourse about the true complexities of helping out overseas and how guilt ridden rich people can sometimes cause more pain than joy in their attempts to ease their guilt in a week long volunteer trip.

So yeah there is some truth in it, but I'm still not convinced. And I mean nothing bad to my lovely colocataire. It's just that, some of the best things that have been done in this world were done by people that everyone thought were fools, until they succeeded.

Also lets look at Jesus. The biggest fool ever if that story ended differently. He stood up to the authorities and spoke with authority that no person had given him. He hung out with the outcasts. He didn't fight back at his death. What the heck Jesus? What the heck?

But He was the Son of God dawg and His death saved lives and his wacky way of life? Well billions everywhere are stumbling in those wacky footsteps.

The problem is a lot of people have done a lot of horrible things in the name of the greater good, in the name of God. But if its really Jesus your following your steps may seem crazy in the moment but they are really the best steps you could take.

Sometimes it pays to take risks and to walk outside of the realm of reason. Sometimes it ruins lives. It all depends. Are you following a reason greater than that of the masses (like Jesus did) or are you just going off of your own unreasonable reason? Cause that could get any of us in trouble.

P.S. the first examples I used are not so much examples of following Jesus' radical life as they are just relatable metaphors for unreasonable movements and an explanation of how my thought process got sparked and a fun commentary on my life recently.

Confessions of a Loner

One of the things I have struggled with most in my life is loneliness. It started when I was a little kid. I was homeschooled and we didn't have a car so we never got to attend events with our home school group. I did have my sister and a couple kids to play with in the neighbourhood. My church had like no youth group or anything during the week. There was Sunday school but there weren't really any other kids my age at my church. Everyone was younger or older. I blame my mum for wishing that if she ever got pregnant again no one would be pregnant at the same time because she hated the competitive comparisons: "my baby sleeps through the night" "my baby is already walking" "my baby said mommy" "my baby goes pee pee in the potty" "blah blah blah," It is all well and good that she wanted me to be able to grow up at my own pace, but I would have liked some company.

The other problem was that I have always been a little odd. For starters I am extremely emotional. You may think that now I get angry or sad way too easy and take it way too seriously when I don't understand, but you should have seen me when I was a kid. I have issues with emotions. I get that and I've been working my whole life at learning how to express them appropriately.

It seems to me like my quirks just grew as I grew.

I spent so much time alone as a kid that I started to become my own person. I didn't spend enough time around other people to learn how to change myself in accordance with the likes, interests, and behaviors of those around me. This is a good thing, I think. It means I never really experienced not knowing who I am. I've always struggled to figure out how I fit in the world, but I've always known who I am because I have never had a chance to be anyone but me.

It's funny because everyone always says "be yourself" and people always talk about the tragedy of not knowing who you are, but here I am being myself and no one ever knows what to think of it.

An interesting lesson I learned in high school (when I finally started public school in grade nine) is that patients are very useful. When I began high school no one really liked me. I made friends very slowly and I drove a lot of people crazy, for good reason. It wasn't just that I was weird. I was also very annoying because I was really stressed out by all the changes and hadn't figured out how to deal with my emotions. With time, however, a surprising majority of the people in my school warmed up to me and I even made a couple good friends. It was funny to watch. I might have matured a little, but not very much. It was the others who changed. They got used to me, and they began to understand me, and they decided they liked me. I still don't really understand it.

It makes short events like summer jobs, summer school, and camps really hard for me because people don't have enough time to get used to me and get to know me.

I've been told many times that I should just be happy for the friends I do have and I should learn to be happy inside of myself in a way that doesn't depend on my surroundings.

This is all well and good, but oh so much harder to do then to say.

The funny thing is that these days it doesn't actually bother me to be alone, but it bothers me that no one wants to hang out with me.

When I was a kid I was a naturally social person, but after all the difficulty that this caused me I started spending more and more time alone. I didn't really like to play alone but I loved to read alone. I also really loved repetitive actions like raking, sweeping, digging holes, scootering, rollerblading, and biking. I would entertain myself for hours on end with these activities, and this is how I became little miss analytical Laurissa. I had nothing to do with my life, so I thought about stuff. I learned to love this way of life, and now I need some time to myself to think or read and just let my brain be quieted. However, I still long for that true sense of belonging. I've almost tasted it a few times but not really. I like being alone, but I also want to belong. I've always been the weird one that people grow to love but never really welcome into the gang.

I know my self worth doesn't come from belonging, but longing for it is an emotion that I just can't let go of.

To everyone I have ever known

To every person who has ever entered my life,

       I want you to know how often I think about all who I have met. I think about all the people in the eight different churches and Christian youth organizations I was involved with growing up. I think about my old neighbours. I think about the people I met at our cottage. I think about the people I went to high school with. I think about the people I met on my volunteer trip to Kansas. I think about the other people in the park the two times I went camping with my extended family. I think about the people I met in Nemaska. I think about the people at Medeba. Of course I think often of my family in St. Thomas and of my friends and all the other people I have met in Peterborough, and when I leave here I will think often about all the people I met in Riviere-du-Loup.

       There are some faces in my mind that are missing their names, a few names that have lost their faces, and I am sure there are some people who have slipped completely into the shadows of my mind. After all, there are more people who have entered my life than just the ones I met in the above places. There are people I smiled at wordlessly or said hello to on the streets or on a bus and there are strangers I waited in the bus station with for hours without even exchanging one word.

        I have remembered more of you than you might believe, but even if I have forgotten some of you it is ok because, for better or for worse, big or small, you touched my heart and changed my life. Through that change a shadow of you is with me always.

       I am learning to accept how many of you have become shadows in my life. Goodbyes are always hard and there have been times when I've struggled to embrace a moment because I was overwhelmed by the pain of knowing how quickly it would be over. There was a time when I wanted everything to last forever, but that isn't how this life thing works.

       You touched my heart and now you are but a shadow in my mind and that's ok. I am a better person because of you. Whether you taught me strength through causing me pain or through building me up, you helped me on my way. For that I am thankful. Yes some of you are so poetic I want to make you small and carry you with me in my pocket wherever I go. Yes I long to gather you all together in one room, but that's not how this life thing works. You are where you are and I am here thinking of you but also enjoying the people I am with now, and I can't explain why this is beautiful even though it is sad, but I think it is and I'm at peace with it.

       Now all that is left to say is thank you, for being who you are and for touching me how you did. I hope that whoever you are and wherever you are you are learning to be joyful.

Love
Laurissa