To see souls

You walk down the street, or cram onto the metro during rush hour, and you're surrounded by a mob of faces.
A body - that's just a bundle of cells, proteins, water, blood - atoms, matter.
The you I perceive is perceived as such because lightwaves bounce off the matter making up you, and I have these rods by night these cones by day that are oh, so, adept at visualizing you.
But that's not you, that's your body.
The stinky, ratty clothes that could really use a wash; the overly proper and too perfectly polished get up; your wrinkling skin that's too old for the time you've spent here; that long, warm, dark hair falling down to your waist; those knees that give way, frail from too many adventures necessity took you on; your protruding veins, your protruding eyes, everything bulging out of a body too thin -- every single physical feature by which I too often judge capacity for life and love and loveability -- none of those perceptions are really you. It's just light bent a certain way due to a living, breathing, moving mass of matter. Which does have a lot of beauty, yes, and a lot of stories to tell. You are, in part, your body, but you are also so much more.

Your soul.

That's what I can't see. That's what I usually don't see or think of when the light's just right and I'm moving down the street quickly, when I see you all everywhere, around me in a lecture hall for 650 beings. But your soul, your heart, your mind... That's what's going to last and that's what is there to love, first, and most.

I want to learn to see the beauty in every broken and perfectly created body - I want to see souls.

A few months ago, I was with a group of friends and we were discussing objectification, how we are all too focused on the surface. Two sides seemed to form, as we brought up strategies for how we're trying to fight this human tendency. One side said: strive to expand your definition of beauty, to perceive everyone as beautiful in a different way; the other: remember that beauty, the surface, isn't what's most important - don't let beauty matter so much to begin with.

I think though, that if we'd talked a little longer, there would have been no cause for disagreement, because I'm certain that the two can go hand in hand. It wouldn't do our capacity to appreciate beauty justice if we strove to stop valuing it, but, it is also true that it is not all-important, especially not as we define it. That's why I want to see hearts, minds, spirits, and to see these in and through the body. We do experience life through bodies after all - experiences write on each of us, our skin, fingers, eyes, and hair catching all the unassorted unfinished pieces of life story, and laying them out in one great, ever expanding and changing corpus. This, life's external imprint, is tied to its internal marks; it's in the interweave that we find people, and what is each person? As I believe it, each of us is an image-bearer of the divine. Once you see that, it's impossible for a perception of each individual as beautiful to not follow, and this beauty comes with a very expanded, supernatural definition indeed.

I want to remember that each person I perceive is not some static, 2D point that drifts in, then out, of my line of vision, not some body only, but this huge complex sphere, a planet with rings that overlap and interfere with many others' rings, just as mine do in each of the relationships I do and don't hold dear.

To not perceive a library or a metro full of ever-studying and journeying robots who drift in and out, relieving each other of their shifts, but as people that are every bit as dear to God and as much His image-bearers as I hope myself to be.

I want to see you as a bundle of emotion, intelligence, thought, aspiration, and love. To see your beautiful bright eyes, yes, but to see them as beautiful because they are reflective of whatever it is, within, that is you. Because you, you bear the image of the Most High God.

I want, desperately, to walk through life seeing souls; to not just perceive in a way that is limited by light and matter, but to see.

Apart

I'm supposed to be packing up my apartment right now, but I was overcome with a wave of sadness at the thought of all of the goodbyes I'm going to have to say tomorrow.
I've had to say quite a few goodbyes over the last week, but at least those have been spaced out. Tomorrow, it's church. So BAM, goodbye hugs for roughly 100 people. ... Ha, okay, maybe not 100, but a lot.

I have a hard time saying goodbye, and as I thought about why that is, I realized it's probably because connection and closeness with people I love is pretty integral to my and most other people's lives. When you leave for a long time, say, 3.5 months (I guess in the grand scheme of things this isn't thaaat long, but still), those people you love are going to learn a lot (hopefully), and, again hopefully, deepen other relationships and form special new ones. But you're not going to be a part of that. I suppose I have a fear that this will lead to a lessened connection between myself and those left behind, so that, when we're together again, things just aren't the same, and we're not as close.

The flip side, which I've been starting to appreciate more and more, is that, um duh Christina, I'll be growing and forming exciting new relationships too. This doesn't need to detract from old friendships; rather, it can work to build them up. Separate growth of friends can deepen connection in a sense; when you part and then come back together, yes, it's hard to say goodbye, and yes, friendship bonds with some may weaken because of it. However, in most cases, this growth while apart can lead to maturation and identity development on each individual's end. When you bring true friends back together after this, there will likely be that sense that time has passed and that experiences have been experienced that the other can't really share in, but when the friendship's true, you won't get estrangement. Instead, you'll have bundles of stories and exciting epiphanies to share. A new dimension will be added to the relationship, because of the unique experiences that have shaped and changed each of you.

So, friends who read this (and those who don't), chances are I'll cry a lot when, or shortly after, we say goodbye (if I haven't already done so), but I'm also really, really excited to see you in the fall - to share my stories and to listen to yours, to enjoy the feeling of refreshment that comes with added friendship dimensions, and to being able to return somewhere where faces are familiar and full of love.
.... No pressure ;)

Je vous aime, tous !

Home Again. Part 1.

In the midst of love and life experiences, deep sadness, joy, and resolute hope, each year brings further tangling up, weaving together, unraveling, creation, and rebuilding of relationships, which are what I have long thought determine a person's "home". Since each year is different, and each season brings with it a new lens of experience through which to perceive my various relationships - with friends, family, classmates, strangers, and other - I think that my perception of what "home" means is wont to shift too. Granted, a lot of last year's post on homecoming still holds quite true.

Right now, I feel extra unsettled. The place I want to call home isn't entirely the home I want it to be, and the place that I could call home isn't where I want to be. (So really, I'm still a two-home gal ;)) ... Haha! How fickle am I?

Definitions of "home" that have been sitting in my mind as of late:
- A place where there is always someone waiting for you at the airport (or at least someone who wants to be there, even if they can't make it!)
- A place where you have family and good friends.
- A place you want to be.
- A place where you can happily picture pieces of your future playing out.
- Where your absence is felt, and where there are people whose absence you feel.
- Where, when you leave, there are people who eagerly await your return.
- Where, when your plane gets low enough so that you can see the whole area splayed out below, you feel that tug, that special fondness that not only makes you feel you could just look and look and eat up everything in sight, but that makes you ready to touch earth too, because you know the paths you want to wander, and who you want to wander them with.
- It's a place where you know that the person, and people, you want to wander those paths with is/are just as happy to do so as you.

- It's a place where you know you are wanted.
- It's a place where you know you are loved.

---------------------------------------------------

As I finish writing that list, it kind of strikes me that those are mostly very selfish, one-sided "home" definitions, all very concentrated on what home does for me. ... I think that perhaps I need to work on what home means to me with respect to what I do for those there. 

To be continued.

Joy

I tend to take life seriously, especially when it comes to people and spirituality. Granted, at least in my opinion, these are two areas where some measure of seriousness is definitely warranted. However, I often overanalyze situations that don't need overanalyzing, over-think decisions that aren't really that important, and can be distracted by what may seem to others to be the minutest of details. But hey, we're all works in progress.

That said, this evening I was reminded of something that I decided to share:

God wants us to laugh with Him.

I love laughing with Him, and spinning under stars, sun, trees - to revel in His abundant beauty and goodness.
It's perhaps when joy is at its most full here on earth, to simply be with and delight in the Creator and most intimately perfect Lover of our souls! Isn't He GOOD?

But life, though a great dance, isn't blissful dancing all the time, and so we, at least I, fade into discouragement and that overwhelming, at times all-consuming, seriousness, when every.thing.matters.far.too.much. The seriousness is at risk of, and at time slips into, legalism, or a works-based faith where I feel guilty for putting even a toe out of line.

Tonight though, tonight, as I was pondering the right thing to do, the "right" or "best" way to spend my time, (Bible?/school?/Bible?/school?/music?/Skype-relationship-investment?/school?/food?), God reached out His hand and asked,

"Will you come and laugh with Me?"

"You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound." - {Psalm 4:7 (ESV)}

"Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, 'The LORD has done great things for them.' The LORD has done great things for us; we are glad[!]" - {Psalm 126:2-3 (ESV)}

"The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows)." - {John 10:10 (AMP)}

Riding the Bus with My Sister ... and brother too, I suppose :)

My mom is the best. There are a scant 22 days until I leave, but scarier than that figure are the mere two days left with my brother J before we're separated until Christmas, and the seven days left with my sister, A. My leaving for the Loran expedition on August 11th combined with their camp-going is what's causing this, and I'm very excited (for them and me)! But the realization that there's so little time left is awfully strange. That's where Maman comes in. After spending a marvelous three days with E (one of my good friends from Québec last summer) and her/my new friend Z, my mom decided to initiate the setting aside of some time for my siblings and I. In the form of bus riding. Interesting, n'est-ce pas? Well, I suppose there's no harm in learning life skills while bonding! (The three of us aren't exactly adept at bus-riding in our lovely city, so this was to be practice.) It seemed a little silly at first - ride bus to mall, then downtown, then back home - but I think that a lot of the seemingly sillier things in life can make for some of the best experiences.

So, the bus we did ride. (Big adventure, right?!) Well, as it turns out, it was quite fun :) The best part was follows:

While riding from the mall to downtown, we sat somewhat silently. I was people-watching, and a rather charming interaction caught my eye. There was a young(ish) man, maybe late 20's or early 30's who sat across the aisle from a woman of about the same age. Now, I can only relate to you events from my perspective, but it seemed to me that they didn't really know each other, and the man had just struck up a conversation. He had an open, honest, and smiling face with an expression that seemed to reveal he had just broken through a shy reservation to speak with her. Now that he'd succeeded, he looked quite pleased, for she certainly appeared to enjoy speaking with him. She laughed at all the right moments, which only served to further widen the man's smile. They were certainly hitting it off! I wish I'd known what they were saying, but they were speaking in Spanish, for at least a while.

Then the bus stopped, and an elderly lady came onboard. She sat right next to the young man, asking him to scoot over to a window, and effectively stopped the flow of conversation. The man gave the young woman an apologetic, regretful look, then chatted a short while with the newcomer, before their conversation dissipated into nothingness.

I turned to J and A to see if they had noticed, and the greatest thing was that they too had been watching all the while! The whole exchange. We were all sad to see this developing friendship be brought to a halt. But as it turned out, the older woman left just a few stops later, and with an eager smile, friendly conversation returned between the younger pair. It was a delight to observe.

Call me a silly romantic if you will, but truly! Even my tough brother noticed those two. It was all in the man's eyes - J himself said that he looked "so sweet". And as we got off the bus downtown, I heard the young man tell the young woman, in English, that he was pleased to meet her, as he gave her a warm grin. ¡Mágico!

Then we were all business again, and got ourselves delicious fries (with malt vinegar!) and sorbet. A pleasure of a day... Merci Maman.

The Closing of a Chapter, Part 1

So, tomorrow it begins. Some people don't care for or think much of their grad, but when you belong to a school that has a grad class of about 73, it's kind of a big deal. It's an even bigger deal when you're class valedictorian. It's also important when you happen to have quite a few close friends in your grad class, and this whole graduation business signifies the end of an amazing past four years. Not that the good times have to end, but they'll certainly be different. Especially when you're across the country from your best friends.

Tonight, we had our last caregroup. I've been a leader with one of my closest friends, H, for the past two years, and tonight brought me to tears. I just love our girls so much. When they were hugging me and crying that I shouldn't go to Montréal, I wanted so badly to say that I'd change my plans for them, that I'd stick around here so that I could keep leading them. Why do we have to grow up? I almost feel that there could be no "better", or "bigger" purpose for me than to positively impact the lives of younger girls, to pray with them, hang with them, care for them, love them, and encourage them. Maybe there isn't anything "better" or "bigger", just something different that I'm supposed to be doing. Our girls are each so special, prized, and unique. And beautiful. So beautiful, inwardly and on the surface. I'm going to miss them incredibly. So now, not only is this weekend filled with graduation and moving on from high school friends and teachers (though I intend to stay in contact with a lot of these people), but it is also filled with trying to realize that this was my last caregroup. Next September, I won't be there with H to awkwardly attend the leader retreat, and laugh until our sides ache, and plan our first caregroup, and pray for our girls, preparing the first meeting last minute, despite our best intentions. Though, come to think of it, I'll still be able to laugh, pray, and maybe even help plan with her... I hope :)

It's all rushing up on me. I hardly realized how much I meant to my incredible girls. I love them so much.

And now tomorrow, it's beginning and ending all at once. I really want to clue in, and experience the moments. I want it to register, but I'm also afraid for that to happen, because then my eyes will probably start welling up. I don't feel old enough. I'm thrilled to be wearing the cap and gown, but I feel distanced from what that means, and I don't feel prepared to take it all in. Though I am excited. So very excited.

I like adventures.

C'est printemps

It's been feeling so close to summer. Last week was gloriously sunny... Up in the mid-20's (ºCelsius), with clear blue skies.

Then this week arrived.

It's humid and rainy. Terribly gray. Which is a tad unusual for my hometown... Understandable in a city such as Vancouver perhaps, but certainly not here!

It's reminded me that, at May 25, it is still spring time. There's a few weeks left until summer officially arrives. So I've decided to make the best of it, and share with you a delightful picture of the first signs of spring on Vancouver Island, taken during this past spring break which was very rainy indeed. It doesn't get much more spring-like than this.

And, just to add a bit more whimsy, here's a lovely song by Richard Petit, called "Le printemps" (springtime). It's one of my favourites :)

Oh! One more thing. There must be some truth to the whole idea that "love is in the air" during this time of year... Several new couples seem to have cropped up, some out of near-nowhere! But so long as they don't make like bunnies, I'm good with that at the moment. It's really rather adorable. Sometimes I feel like tweaking the younger kids' noses, and saying "Well aren't you two just the cutest thing". But I wouldn't, and I won't. That would be slightly sickening. Though it is a sign that, for the time being, I'm choosing to not dwell on the harsh reality that most of them will get their hearts broken within a few weeks. Maybe months.

Nonetheless, rosy-cheeked young teens holding hands and getting butterflies in their stomachs do seem to pair well with spring. Usually this annoys me to no end, but this year I don't mind.