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.