thank you

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for loving me, for dying for me, for forgiving me. 

Thank you for how you healed the sick and deaf and lame.

Thank you that you heal me from being deaf to your voice.

Thank you for healing the sickness in my heart.

Thank you for healing my lame spirit.

Thank you for showing us love.

I am sorry when I do not love as you have commanded.

I am sorry that sometimes I put myself first.

Thank you for loving me even though you know I will do those things wrong.

Sweet Jesus, thank you for fixing us. 

Thank you for restoring us.

Thank you for redeeming us.

When I see your face I will fall on mine.

Thank you for challenging me, for bringing me along on the journey.

You are the greatest adventure. I am so sorry when I don’t trust your compass.

Thank you for your words of hope and grace. 

Thank you for leaving your spirit here on earth until your work is done.

Thank you for seeing past my filth.

Thank you for seeing me.

I am known and loved.

I hope to know you and love you the same.

unknown

I am living in the unknown right now. I have deep abiding feelings about trust. I have been betrayed by a few people in my life so trust in God, even though he is “The Man” has been a consistent battle in my life. And sometimes, I just wanna know. You know?

I have talked about this before. I am living in a zone of mystery. Which, to be honest is God’s schtick right. I mean, come on. He is all up in the mystery, unanswered questions, take it all on faith kind of living. And for a mom of three boys, living on a pastor’s salary in a different town it puts you on the tip of the iceberg of trust requirements. But I wave them around like a banner of pride. Like “LOOK AT ME! I’M A MOM OF BOYS AND THEY DRIVE ME CRAZY AND WE ARE A MINISTRY FAMILY AND IT’S HARD AND YOU NEED TO PRAY FOR MY SANITY BECAUSE GOD IS ALL UP IN MY BUSINESS!!”

Really though. 

God has been twisting me into all sorts of pretzels and sometimes there is a sweet release, like he’s the great chiropractor and sometimes it hurts. It hurts hard. 

Right now I am neither here nor there. I am in a waiting, wanting, longing period. I have these very specific promises before me but I’m trying to not let them tangle my heart. They are not God. They have come from God and he is in the business of changing lives. And he is changing mine. He is awakening in me somethings that I didn’t even know where there. Do I sound cryptic? Good. So then, when I say I am living in the unknown, you now get an idea of how all at once terrifying and exciting it is. 

post-it

Do you know the hardest thing about writing? It isn’t the challenge of what to write about or when to write or even how I want to say it all (although, that can be pretty challenging) No. It is posting it. Putting it out there in the internet ether. Then asking you all to read it and care.

I maked this. Do you like it? Does it speak to you? Do you think it’s weird? Do you hate it? - please don’t tell me. Am I crazy for putting my thoughts and feelings out there? 

I have written millions of words and most of them stay locked away in my journal. Some I have laboured over for days and still they sit. Some I have sat and volcanoed out the words like the pressure was so bad I would explode were it not for the writing. But then comes the posting.

Posting it on the blog or on Facebook is most nerve wracking. This sort of thing is no big deal. This is a humours musing. But when I dig deep and click on that publish button, my heart skips a beat or ten. It is painful and releasing and glorious and heart wrenching all at the same time.   Partly because people I personally know read this. But also, because I am a private person - hello, irony - and so the idea of a complete stranger knowing my thoughts is, unsettling. But here I come still because I am compelled. I need to write, I need to say these things and ultimately it matters not if you read what I post. I just need to say it. 

muddle

I could write this great post about how we just muddle our way through life. And in fact I thought about doing it. I was positing the different ideas back and forth in my brain and trying to come up with a good starter. How we muddle and what muddling actually means. And then I got to thinking about the last time I was in Vancouver visiting family. So, just 6 weeks ago. And I was staying with my sister in Langley for a couple days and one of those days, I think the was feeling particularly “muddley” (haha) so she decided she wanted a drink and made herself a mojito. If you are not familiar with that drink you should be. Vodka, lime, sugar, mint - Excellent! She made one for herself then made me one. It was yummy. We were making dinner and I drank it quickly and before it kicked in I made myself another one and as I was muddling the mint I had a quickly passing thought, “should I make this?”. It was a double shot glass she was using for the vodka. I shrugged it off and decided that because we were having supper soon it would be ok. 

I suppose if you mean by “ok” that you have a buzz while you’re in the pool with your children and you’re supposed to be an alert adult. Then I was “ok”

Sometimes this is how we muddle through life. 

test

“This is a test of the emergency broadcast system this is only a test. 

                       BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system. Had this been real emergency, the sound you just heard would have been followed by important information regarding your specific emergency. This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system”

You remember that don’t you? I remember those growing up. Especially over summer holiday when my sisters and I watched The Price is Right. We’d be pretending we were Janice or Diane and model random objects around the living room for Bob to talk about. Then a commercial break would come and if we weren’t fast enough we would be assaulted with the alarm beep. 

That test always made me afraid, not because I don’t like tests, but because it brought the fear of “what if?” What kind of emergency would constitute the use of the emergency broadcast system? And if it was a real emergency, are people really watching their televisions? I guess 30 years ago they were. As I grew older I just shrugged my shoulders whenever those came on. Well, we’ve never been in a situation to need to use it so what’s the point? I became numb to the test.

This is all I’ve been able to think about these last 24 hours. “This is a test” It feels like we are being tested at this moment, and failing horribly. Donald Trump has continually shown his true colours and a sizeable chunk of the United States population continues to turn a blind eye. The virus that has infiltrated the minds of our southern neighbours is incredibly contagious. Yes, I am a Canadian living in Canada but we are but a breath away from infection. Yesterday a video recording came forth of him showing his degradation towards woman, his “I take what I want” attitude, his overinflated sense of entitlement. It is sad at best, evil at it’s worst and somewhere in the middle I want to vomit. This isn’t an “all of a sudden” kind of arrangement here folks. This behaviour should surprise no body. Trump embodies everything that is bad and titillating about the internet. He is the internet incarnate and this is why he can’t be ignored even though he should. He speaks unbridled, and people have called that refreshing, he continually lies and instead of calling him out on it his supporters just turn the tables. And yes, his opponent is no better. Seriously, NO BETTER if you are interested in any sort of moral integrity. But since when did we vote on candidates based on moral integrity? 

The reality is that we already failed the test. We have been tested for years and years. On the basis of Trump=internet, we failed years ago. When we continue to ignore the warnings and go for the titillation. When we turn a deaf ear to objectifying and degrading words. When we laugh at a meme that makes light of a woman’s worth with words like “bitches” and “hoes”. This recent “revelation” of Trump’s behaviour and the lewd words read no differently than any random rap/hip hop lyrics. Trump should sell his words to Vince Staples and he’ll turn it into a hit overnight. You can’t laugh at a mom in tears horrified by the lyrics of a rap song then turn around and be horrified at Trumps words and attitude. 

I look at my boys and am so glad they aren’t old enough to hear any of this on the news, but the reality is that Trump is not the only man on this planet that thinks and behaves this way. As we have learned about so much this last year, rape culture is a real thing and it’s roots are power and entitlement. I am so focused on making sure my boys respect not just the opposite sex but all forms of life. We do not take just because we want. That may seem like typical behaviour for a toddler but not for a seven year old, or a 34 year old and certainly not for a 60 year old man running for president.

Shock and awe people, it is not just a Dessert Storm attack stance. It is how we receive our information. We get riled up and angry or hurt or insulted and rant from our keyboards that we are going to do something about it. And in fairness, I know some people that have. They have been so compelled by what they have seen that they have taken up the mantel of injustice fighter and it is thrilling to witness. This is the kind of shock and awe I want to be surrounded by. 

Stop waiting for the emergency broadcast system to tell you what to do. We are in a state of emergency. This is dire. Being Canadian does not make you immune to the ramifications of this outcome of this election. We have been in a global village for decades and for good and bad we can not escape it.

you

you are fat, 

you are ugly, 

you are a sinner, 

you are the Messiah, 

you are a child of God, 

you are having a boy, 

you are dirty, 

you need a bath, 

you must fight, 

you have no idea how much I love you, 

you cannot scream like that, 

you are beautiful, 

you are strong, 

you are stupid, 

you are lazy, 

you are missed, 

you have to apply yourself, 

you can’t give up, 

you are treasured, 

you are a failure, 

you are loved, 

you are full of shit, 

you are such a blessing, 

you make a good cup of coffee, 

you have an amazing voice, 

you are so talented, 

you are such a good preacher, 

you are the best sister in the world, 

you lied to me, 

you hurt me, 

you are the man of my dreams, 

you are going to lose this baby, 

you are a great mom, 

you don’t understand, 

you weren’t there, 

you have to treat people the way you want to be treated, 

you are forgiven, 

you can do this, 

you are worthy, 

you deserve to be healthy, 

you are the light of the world, 

you are my Saviour, 

you are my King.

silence

I can’t believe I’m three days behind on this writing thing well, I guess I can believe it. You’ve never been very good finisher Colleen good starter yes, not good at finishing. It has been harder than I anticipated but I’m not going to give up on it. Today is Iain’s birthday, how is he 4 how does that happen? Just yesterday I was holding him brand new. Where does it all go? I wish I could get some of that time back, I’m always saying to Brad I wish I could go back to at least one day for each of my boys when they were babies so I could snuggle them, kiss them, nurse them again instead of the other night when they pushed me to my limits and I lost it on them. yay mom. Now all I have in my head is noise noise noise. Why do I have such hard time forgiving my parenting mistakes. I’m convinced that they will be ruined forever because of my slip-ups. Ugh, I’m so homesick. I had such a great visit back home in august and I’ve been doing great with everything here but now I am so so homesick and that is more noise in my head. We’ve been here a solid 2 years and I still long for my hometown I wonder if that will ever change. Noah keeps having meltdowns I think he’s overwhelmed with kindergarten but he won’t really admit it. Last night he yelled at his pancakes. Carlon is getting picked on by another kid in his class over the stupidest stuff. First this kid was calling him Barlon and now he is just being bossy to Carlon and it’s really upsetting him. Iain still won’t poop in the toilet. I sometimes wonder if I could ship him off to potty training boarding school but then I know for sure I would never be able to forgive myself for that. noise noise noise.