That's right. Despite my most fervent prayers and denial of the weatherman's foretelling, there was no snow on Christmas. We did, however, get a lovely blanket of fog. Grey, dismal, horrible fog.
To combat the weather's reluctance to comply with my traditional Christmasy desires, I took on the joy of the holidays anyway and hung out with my family. Our Christmases have never been traditional, but this year was at an all-time...high?
I think I was nine when my mom decided we weren't going to have a Christmas tree anymore. For a few years we also didn't have gifts. Those are back now, but the tree never made a re-appearance. After that, my mom decided that she wanted to create a Christmas tradition that we would want to come home to when we're old and married. So for the last several years on Christmas Eve, my mom and dad and brother and I get together to slowly evolve our version of a family Christmas. This year, it looked someting like this: we start at 5 with fondue, and as soon as that's winding up we throw some appetizers in the oven. When those are finished, we throw some more in, etc. It goes on and on until dessert. Aaaaand then we throw some more horsd'oeuvres out on the table and eat until bed. Somewhere in the middle we also watch "It's a Wonderful Life" and usually play a board game. Then in the morning, it's up for any food we didn't finish the night before and home-made cinnamon buns and presents (this year we're doing renovations, so the pile of presents stood in the middle of the living room, sans tree of course, as the only thing in the room besides our new couch). And thus the new family tradition.
After that, we go to one side of the family Christmas night and the other on Boxing Day. Basically, it's three days straight of only eating and sleeping. It's wonderful.
But besides all that, even though it's wonderful to get to spend so much time with my family, one important truth remains: Jesus is the reason for the season (ahahaha, oh my but I do love clichés). Sure, He probably wasn't actually born on December 25th and where the tree and Santa fit in we'll probably never know (and a reindeer with a birth defect that makes only his nose glow? Heaven help us!). BUT, this is the time once a year that we should be taking some time to remember that He came, how He came, and why He came. He came for me.
The mist killed my white Christmas dreams, but that was about it. It's actually quite beautiful when I stop and get over my delusions of "what Christmas should be" and just...stop. Breathe. Accept that this is how it is, and be okay.
Not meant to refer to the song. I wrote it, realized, but knew that this couldn't be titled anything else.
I'm sitting around, waiting on a miracle. Sure there are things I could be doing to pass the time so I don't have to think about these things so much, but unfortunately it always seems to creep up through my subconscious. Money has never been something I've ever had trouble trusting God with. He's always come through, and I've never doubted. Yet suddenly, when my back account is down to $7.92 and my pay cheque is not what I was hoping and it's only a few days before Christmas with gifts left to buy, tuition is only 3 weeks away, and my first rent cheque is due in 2...well I've been a little nervous. Especially when other people are telling me to plan for the worst and be prepared that I may not get the money I need. I try to explain that that is just not the way I operate, that faith is what I've chosen to live by; they don't understand the way I'd hoped they would.
All I know at the moment is that I have enough to get me through today. Probably enough to last me until the New Year. So why worry? God has pulled more amazing stuff out of His infinite hat before; $3600 is nothing to Him.
I just have absolute peace that some way, somehow, He's going to make this happen. So who am I to doubt? ...and maybe my faith in this area of my life will help me to trust in other areas as well. I'm not letting go of this hope.
I don't have time for this right now, but if I don't make time for it then it will never happen. This is my first blog of December. I didn't know what to write until now. Now is as good a time as any.
I'm moving off dorms today. Most people have already been gone a week. I said it's because I'm working near here and there's still so much to do, but truth be told... when I leave, it's for good and I'm scared. This has been my home for almost a year and a half, and every step I take is a reminder of times gone by. Maybe this will be good for me, to finally shake the ghosts of this decrepit building and move on with my life. I feel like it will be a good in between, the basement suite; close enough to be able to walk here any time I want, far enough that I can ignore this place whenever I want.
This was not a good semester for me. It could have never happened, and I don't know if I would have noticed. I wrecked a lot of things, hurt myself and hurt others. I gained a lot of close friendships, and that in itself is worth it, but I wish there had been more. I'm walking away with a sense of dissatisfaction instead of accomplishment. I wish I could go back to September 8th and restart all over again. Maybe then I wouldn't have to face this person every morning.
There have been underlying things going on that I'm not going to go into detail about. As far as I can tell, everyone has underlying crap and if they don't ask about mine, it's not that they don't know it's there...they just don't want to know. Sometimes I guess it's easier to believe the worst about people instead of taking the time to find out the "why"s.
Stripping this room is going to feel so good. Knowing I never again have to take a shower in one of these can't-maneuver, no-pressure, burning-hot-to-freezing-cold-without-warning excuse for a shower, well, it's a beautiful thing. These mattresses are out of my life for good. I get a full closet to myself. There will be privacy when I want it. No curfew. What I want to eat, whenever I want it. TV all the time.
And yet. I'll never again call this place home. No room to run up to quickly for a sweater or my homework or nail polish to help boys with their guitar playing. No aframe downstairs where I know that no matter what's happening up here, down there will be good times. And as much as I hate the meals, I love the community feel of it. Truth be told, I'm really going to miss this place.
I have some incredible memories here. Maybe leaving will make them that much sweeter. That's all I can really hope for.
My roommate has this awesome habit of letting one simple fallback help get her out of any bummed-out mood. Whether she's too sleepy or too awake, too angry or too passive, or too stressed or too laid back, she has a shower. I don't think I'm one of those people. To me, shower means stress and lots to do and my routine and trying to stay on time and not letting the shower head point in that weird way that sends it over the curtain and trying to keep the curtain stuck to the sides of the shower by not touching my legs. Showers do none of the lovely things she claims. I am, however, an advocate for the after-shower therapy session.
Last year my roommate and bathroommates liked to make fun of me because I liked to get ready naked. I would blowdry, straighten, primp and preen with as little on as possible. Steph even wrote a song about it. Realistically, I was usually more clothed than any of us would ever admit, but it's fun to look back and pretend it was more scandalous than it really was.
But truthfully, I do my best de-stressing when I'm breezy and free, doing the simple tasks of getting ready while jamming out to my fave band of the morning. My favourite activity? Blowdryer dancing. Crazy, I know, but nothing does it for me like that does. I'm hooked for life.
I need more moments like these to grace my days. Even once a day is just not enough, especially when they're either interrupted or have that potential. Hopefully this Christmas break will be the perfect opportunity for just such times. I picked my courses for next semester today, and I'm taking a course by correspondence over the break in the hopes of lightening my over-the-top load for January (self-inflicted of course). I am drowning, and homework will be my lifeboat. And in May? I don't know, maybe more courses by correspondence, throwing myself headlong (and detrimentally) into ministry again, or maybe even a full out break out where I just sit around for four months and write. What else is there?
Today I finally gave up on trying to keep my hair dry. You'd think that having lived in Vancouver all my life I would have gotten used to it by now. Nada.
My pink umbrella died in one of several windstorms last week. It was a day of laughter for some; for my laptop, clothes and hair, tragedy.
Thus, venturing out without my umbrella, I took on everything from mist to golf-ball-sized droplets and braved the dangers of the slick walkway between my cozy bedroom and the safe haven of classrooms some fifty feet away. And then it happened...or should I say, didn't happen? My hair stayed the same. No frizz. No fly-aways. Just...flat hair. Day old hairspray is a beautiful thing.
Today I got my work schedule. Work? Me? Yes. I'm a Salvation Army bell girl, collecting donations outside of London Drugs no matter what the weather conditions may be. Rain, sleet, hail, freezing rain, snow, or meteor strike, have no fear for I will be there, ringing my bell and telling all the warmly bundled shoppers to have a Merry Christmas. Between this Friday and next I am working 39 hours. 39 standing hours. 39 standing hours exposed to all the elements. Oh my devious.
I am an umbrella kind of girl. I like to use them no matter what the weather. My umbrella is dead. I must walk in the rain.
I don't know how it started, but the following are 17 different notes to 17 different people, all anonymous. Some of these people would probably surprise you; I was surprised to find myself writing about them. Mostly it's the people who get me or the people who I just really need to say something to but can't find the words when we're together.
You are the most brilliant shade of blue. And I, as always, am indigo. This rainbow ain't what it used to be, and we're stuck at opposite ends of the spectrum. I miss you so much it hurts.
I miss midnight talks with you, and spilling things on the carpet, and being ridiculous. Lies; I just miss you.
It's been over three years now. I don't know what to believe anymore. You made promises, or so I thought, and I chose to believe them. Foolish? If I talk to myself, then yes.
Your eyes always lie to me. They say one thing while your mouth says another. I don't even know if I'd want it anymore if I could.
I feel like all I ever do is dump on you, but I think you feel that way too. I'm sorry. I love the way we're growing and you make me feel like I can make it until the end of the day. I miss you when you're not around.
Come back to me. I need your hugs more than you'll ever know.
I can't say enough how much I value our friendship. Some days I don't know where I would be without you.
You think you're alone, but you're not. I still care. I might not always show it, but I do. You make me laugh uncontrollably and warm my heart to the nth degree.
I never thought we would get to this point, but here we are: friends. No envy, no guessing, no enmity; just friends. I'm really enjoying this.
I love you, but to say something like that to you just wouldn't connect. I want you to know God so desperately; I think that would be the icing on top of a beautiful friendship.
You are the sister I never knew I had. Being with you is like a breath of fresh air after being closed off from the world; ooooor like a hot cup of tea with a friend after being locked away in my dorm room all day.
I don't tell anyone because they wouldn't understand, but I miss you. Sometimes life just does not turn out the way we plan, despite our best intentions. In spite of it all, thank you, and I wish you the absolute best.
We don't see each other often enough, but I don't think that changes anything. You can always come to me, that won't ever change.
You have no clue how much it means to me when you tell me that you love me. It might be a simple gesture and one that comes with being siblings in Christ, but I appreciate you and your love every time I see you. I'm going to miss you so much when you're not around.
I love you like no other person on this earth, and no one else could ever take your place. Don't ever believe otherwise.
You don't know me very well yet, but I feel like we're starting something great. You make me smile, and that's worth a million bucks right now.
You are not the person I thought you were. You've changed more than I would have liked in the past few years, and not always for the better. But I'm not giving up on you...just one more round, always one more round.
The dawn is breaking A light shining through You're barely waking And I'm tangled up in you Yeah
I don't usually like to start blogs with song lyrics. I only use lyrics to title blogs when the song is what I cannot get out of my head. However, once I picked this picture there were no other words on my mind.
Today is Saturday. Last night I left for Birch Bay for a weekend retreat with my second family, aka my church leadership team. We're here until tomorrow morning, and it's been so refreshing to just...rest. Yesterday was my first in a new installment of Sabbaths that I'm hoping will grace my every Friday. To take an entire day off from school work and responsibilities is something I haven't done in...years? Years. (deep breath) ...that is a very long time.
On this first Sabbath of many to come, I slept in until 1, had a mandatory but relaxed meeting with my lawyer, watched a movie, and left for the retreat. And all day today has been nothing but church planning and vision casting and just hanging out. I feel like my smiles are genuine today. This is refreshment.
Tomorrow is back to responsibility and ministry and homework and laundry, but for now I can take it one day at a time and just...be. I'm finally realizing who I am and it's wonderful to feel free to be me right now, and nothing more.
God has been exceedingly clear. He loves me. Enough to hug me in my despair, enough to romance me with a rose and a love letter, enough to give someone else the perfect words at the perfect time. Oh, how He loves me.
And yet.
I know He has to be my everything, but it is such a lonely road. Every day is a struggle just to get myself out of bed, and I don't understand why He allows me to live this way...one moment at a time with no hope that morning will ever come.
I am in the middle of a desert, winter season. One or the other is bad enough, but both is nearly hopeless. Frozen cold with no end in sight, it is to be utterly alone.
I am done with the plastic smile stapled to my face; it has begun to fade over the last several days, and I think it's finally gone. I'm so exhausted by the energy it takes to be outwardly happy to make everyone else more comfortable. I refuse to sacrifice myself any longer so that your comfort is not disturbed.
I really am going to be okay. I know this. And they tell me all the time. It's just going to take awhile.
It's been a year since my first blog entry. I read back and can't help but think how witty I was back then, how self-assured. I thought I was on top of the world.
Don Henley once told me, "You can't go back, you can never go back." He was right. So rather than mourn the loss of the person I used to be, I'm going to take the time to celebrate the love and laughter and God revelation I have divulged here.
I sincerely hope the pendulum starts swinging back towards happiness; this dull gray is almost more than I can take. But I guess that's what this is here for. It's a photograph out of time that takes me back to where I was and reminisces on the natural ebb and flow of of the joys and sorrows I experience. It's encouraging to read back and see the pain or heartache and to know that I survived. All I need to do is push through one more day, make it through one more night, and I will be one step closer to pulling through.
