At Sea

I saw an island tip today, a little peninsula jutting out that looked exactly like the one I’d imagine the Pevensies and Trumpkin the Dwarf would’ve rounded in their small canoe right upon re-entry into Narnia at Prince Caspian’s beginning. The sand was all bright white, likely made of the same stuff I was standing on: millions upon millions of pieces of seashell, worn down to near grains by ages of tirelessly roving waves. Above that were the trees – tall, dark, and mostly evergreen; these forests must certainly be just as capable of containing ghosts as the ones in that book, or at least of inspiring rumours thereof.

Here in Montague Harbour, as it is all up and down the West Coast, the forests are so full of life the plants hardly know where to go. They grow at haphazard angles, branches jutting here and there, twisting, intertwining, weaving together a collective forest carpet: ferns, pines, salal, more, and, my and most people's favourite, the arbutus tree. They all reach out towards the sea. Everything, everything, is green – if not wholly, then bright moss grabs hold, ensuring that each living thing is capable of joining in to that wild and hallowed chorus, breathing: Life.

There are otters, sea lions, herons, oysters, and crabs in abundance. Sometimes I wonder if I was horribly cruel to kill all the barnacles I’ve killed. When all is growing, even the ground you tread is home to millions of creatures. Everything is alive. Even the rocks, great walls of stone, are in a constant process of slow transformation. They’ll be pockmarked with holes, like a wall in some city of cave dwellers, or sometimes have large scoops taken right out, as if the sea were a greedy child going in for too large a scoop of ice cream.

I love it here. There must be few places in the world, or in North America at least, where you can find so many distinct shades of green and blue, and where you share an instant bond of camaraderie and mutual life-love with every person you meet, confirmed in a wave, smiling nod, or friendly greeting.

If ever the chance comes your way, seize it, and simply be here, if only for a short time. Breathe in the salty air, float a long while, talk, walk, sit, explore a long while, and savour the remoteness of it all, how real and alive everything is. It’s good for the soul. 

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)}

Easy

Don't you think it would have been easier to live back in the Little House on the Prairie days

When Central Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and on, were all far off places, when all countries but your own and the motherland were packed with myths and exotic tales
All so exotic. Exotic, fabled, and foreign. Their problems, wars, and pains, unknown to you. And no one would fault you for your lack of knowledge and lack of care.

Now though, now if you don't know, I see you as a hypocrite
For saying you care when you don't
You care
But not the world around not even
Around the whole of society you
Don't care
Well where's the use in caring,
When all it does is hurt. Right?

Because you don't have time
No time to care
Because you're here now, and here now means focusing on you you you
University tells you, tells you to do good, tells us it will equip you
But then you forget and you get lost sitting in a class that's all symbols and formulas and no people
But this is supposed to help them one day. Right?
University begs us to get wrapped up in ourselves
Forces our heads down to desks full of formulas and concentrates us on grades
Compares us with everyone around
And tells us each assignment matters
Then reminds us of the world and all its problems

Tells us of the futility of it all and how

Even if you want to do something good

No good thing is simply good - it's all wrapped up in prejudice and overly Western influence and white-saviour complexes

But do, do good.

You could forget to

But even then even if you don't forget, even if you figure out what to do

It's all so big and far and foreign and who are you?

They yell at you and say it's none of your business that we'll take care of our own

And that you should take care of your own.

Yes yes I should I should.

And I'll be well-paid too

How nice. Because I'm here.

No that's good then. That's good.

Because then you can give it all away

All all away

.... I know I probably won't.

If I get anywhere that is.

But see that's about me. And me and me and me

That's this time in your life

To care about you

So that one day

....

One day what?

The family

The family is so important

Yes that I'll go with that

Focus on the micro because many good micros will eventually build into one grand macro, one good picture

But NO

Still the money is mismanaged there and education is inadequate and they're all dying all dying

Abortion is birth control and HIV says you're singled out for divine punishment

They're lies all lies and how will they know! All the people! I don't speak Kyrgyz

Who does? Who'll go and tell them? The Canada travel advisory says avoid non-essential travel because everyone robs and thievery and assault are rampant.

Well it should be local anyways right. Right right right. That's what they've been telling us. That's what's ideal.

But many doctors won't treat HIV patients or demand danger pay. Danger pay. Masks marked up by 500% corruption corruption. Are people caring? People are caring. They are. I hope the Church.... I hope....

I hope they're there and caring.

I can't do anything anyways. In and of myself. I know, believe me I know, a thousand times over. And I'm afraid of not even wanting to. Caring here first. Here where I am. But ...... Excuses are easy to come by, especially if you don't know whether or not they're excuses or legitimate arguments.

Pray.

Pray pray pray. That's all we can do.

Even there though.... There's SO MUCH to pray for. And I can't do it all at all. (Ask others) okay. Okay. How do you get others to care when you hardly know if you care enough yourself? When you don't have the time and I don't feel like a prayer warrior

Only God will make all things right

But we we have no idea

And we sit here with our problems -

Are they valid?

The stress the relationships the questions about the future the worry about all this -

They're valid because they reflect how we all desperately need God

But on the other hand it makes me wonder sometimes

Did all of my problems surface because I have so much time and lack of worry about survival in living my upper middle class life? ... Time and enough needs taken care of so that I had the chance to come up with new worries? Are these worries even necessary?

Is any worry necessary.

I need to find someone else who cares

But it's really hard to care and keep caring when you figure there's not much you can do.

(Don't think you're some hero who has to carry it all because HE carries it all.)

I think it's because I'm fearful of how easy it is to fall into apathy. I don't want to be apathetic but ............ What's the use in JUST talking about it

And JUST caring about it all anyways

Without action. Is there a purpose to being "informed"?

To being informed when all it makes you want to do is collapse under it all because you know YOU can't take care of any of it? Is there a point in just talking, in just awareness about ALL of the injustice and discrimination and hate and ignorance?

Look for the joy. Remember that it's not all bleak (but sometimes I feel that it IS all bleak!)

And one day one day HE will make all things right and all things well

It's just

That

.....

What are we to do until then?

How hopeful, how optimistic should we become?

I have a hard time hoping and praying for revival when some parts of the Bible seem to say that things will just get worse until Jesus comes back.

But then

There's other philosophies too that say, that say things will get better and better until He comes, that we are to build the kingdom of Heaven on earth

Does this mean there's hope for now? And that there is a point in doing all we can? To heal both physically and spiritually?

There's just so so much.

And only He can take care of it all.

The stories in the news

Everything looks dark

"The newspaper is God's to do list delivered right to my front door" - Archbishop Desmond Tutu

It's an awful lot to do.

I don't want to want to escape.

(Don't end on a hopeless note. Because it doesn't end hopelessly.
He's here, you know. He's there. He. Is. There. And HE doesn't tire or grow weary or stressed and HE IS able and fully equipped. It's not up to you. It's not up to you. He is willing and able and cares consistently and more than you ever can or will. So pray. Pray to Him and be where you are now.)

Act justly and love mercy and walk humbly with Your God. {Micah 6:8}
Be thankful. LET the peace of Christ rule in your hearts. Put on love. {Colossians 3:14-17}
Love one another deeply. {1 Peter 4:8}

The Remembering

I've been reminiscing lately, and re-going over, parts of some of my absolute favourite book series, The Chronicles of Narnia. They're the sorts of books one could read a thousand times over, at least in my experience, and still come up with new insights, and old, wonderful reminders that provide a glimpse into the character, heart, beauty, and majesty of God. I could go on about these stories for a while, but that's not really the point of today's post. What it leads to is this: As I was in this C.S. Lewis vein of thought (and consequently, in a C.S. Lewis vein of internet procrastination), I stumbled across this quote from another of Lewis's novels, Out of the Silent Planet. I'll admit I've only read a part of this book (part one of a trilogy), but it seems it's high time to read more:

"A pleasure is full grown only when it is remembered. You are speaking, Hmān, as if the pleasure were one thing and the memory another. It is all one thing. The séroni could say it better than I say it now. Not better than I could say it in a poem. What you call remembering is the last part of the pleasure, as the crah is the last part of a poem. When you and I met, the meeting was over very shortly, it was nothing. Now it is growing something as we remember it. But still we know very little about it. What it will be when I remember it as I lie down to die, what it makes in me all my days till then–that is the real meeting. The other is only the beginning of it."

I think sometimes that memories are frowned upon as these fragile things, that are either of no value, being only whisps of a past reality, or else dangerous entities, holding the possibility of escape to something that is no longer real. To be sure, there is a fine line to walk here - we live life in a constant, ever-moving present, and so should not become wrapped up in the past... But there is a strange and appealing beauty to the concept of pleasant memories that continue to live, developing and affecting our present ... The idea of a "real meeting" occurring when you see how the initial event has changed and moved you, "what it makes in me all my days till then- that is the real meeting." 
An important experience, a wonderful encounter -- it need not simply die the moment it ends. It has the potential to grow fuller and more meaningful as time passes, and as it influences what you experience in moments both now and to come. Of course, a memory may die too, and sometimes that is for the better. Sometimes time shows you that it was not, perhaps, all that special or worth the cost of remembering it to begin with, and you are really better off forgetting. 
But "real" meetings, initial moments being merely a shadow of something more - I think that's a rather captivating idea. 

Vignette

He was sitting alone, with his dreadlocks, long pony tail, plaid, and cropped jeans. Hiking boots with wool socks too. And, the accordion. In a newly gated off area, he was at the centre; a stage was off to the side, signifying the evening's main attraction was to come.
But he, so solitary and typically grunge-accordionist, gave the whole place its atmosphere:
The square was almost austere in the posed-ness of it all, with the mix of many hipster-types, post-work day 9 to 5'ers, moms, hippies, old men... All frozen, quizzical, critical, lost in thought, enjoying the day and the moment. The music wasn't happy - it was somewhat rough, in fact - and neither was the sky. It was all very muted, enjoyed, and... too nice. The young, cool people were smoking and pensive. They couldn't be bothered to smile, but I think that's the way they like it sometimes. A grandma got up with her grandson and tried to dance with him, but it didn't last.




The shame was that I saw no one drop money in the accordionist's case, even though they were all staring at him. Maybe they were afraid to walk into the centre of the ring and be observed, or too busy exhaling ribbons of smoke.
As I left and dropped some change, I was rewarded with the most genuine of smiles. The air felt happier as credence was given to the moment's maker.