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.