So yes, today is my birthday and I'm 36 years old today. I know sometimes people say "wow, I can't believe I'm 36 already, the years have just flown by." Or maybe they say, "oh my word, I'm only 36, I feel like I'm 80!" But honestly, I just feel 36.
For most of my life I have just wanted to be 4 years old. 4 was a very good year. I turned 4 in 1980, the start of a new decade and the start of a new stage of my life. 4 is when I started school. My birthday is in November, so I was nearing 5, but what I remember is being 4. Apparently Trudeau was Prime Minister, "O Canada" became our national anthem and Emanuel Sandhu was born. But what I remember is waiting for the bus in my plaid dress with my fancy school bag that my mom sewed for me. It had a felt appliqued apple, banana and orange on the front. I was so proud. Being 4 meant Kindergarten. Being 4 meant the story corner, and cut and paste in Mrs. Campbell's Kindergarten class at Elmwood Elementary school. Being 4 was grand. And all my life I have wanted to go back to being 4.
For a time I also wanted desperately to be 25. I still wanted to be 4, but in the absence of a time machine, I thought that if I could just be 25 then things would be the way I wanted them to be. For some reason 25 was the age I associated with being settled, with having my own home, with safety and security and belonging. But when I reached 25 and none of those things had really materialized, I decided what the heck! And I quit my job and moved to CMU to change the course of my life entirely.
And now, at 36 the only age I really want to be is...36. As much as there are things about this stage in life that I would like to change, there really is no other age that I want to be. I am just fine being me, I am just fine with my grey hair and my creaky knees (not that I don't do physio to ease the pain). I loved being 4, and I look back with fondness for the gifts I received at that age and at every stage in between. There were good experiences and not so good ones, but they made me who I am right now. And I look forward with anticipation to the growth that is yet to come in my life. I love that I know that some day I'll know more than I do now. I love that some day I'll be wiser, more settled internally, stronger in my core, my heart. I love that learning doesn't stop and growth doesn't stop. But I'm also just fine with where I am in my journey. I am not a broken project that needs to be fixed today, I'm just a growing person who needs to be nurtured over a lifetime. And I'm good with that.
So today, I'll spend a little time looking back, and a little time looking forward, and a whole lot of time just being in the present. Because it's a gift.
Wednesday 28 November 2012
Monday 26 November 2012
Almost a Year
Well, it's been almost a year back here in Canada. Some days it seems hard to believe that we've already been back here a year, on other days it feels like we never left Winnipeg at all, that AMBS was just a dream (with periodic nightmares!). Last year at this time I was immersed in putting together final lectures and grading work for students in the class I co-taught at AMBS. I was also setting up my last spiritual guidance sessions with my young directees, and finishing up my volunteer work at Belmont Mennonite Church. I was also busy packing with Alicia, figuring out where we would move, and how to make that happen. It was a rich, full, frantic, rewarding, frustrating time.
We knew that moving back to Winnipeg would be a challenge. We knew that it would likely be difficult to find ministry positions, especially given that our internships were primarily done in Indiana. That's where we made relationships and connections surrounding our gifts in ministry so we knew that returning to Winnipeg would be starting over in a sense. Yet we had a clear sense that Winnipeg was the place that we needed to be. So we decided to give ourselves 6 months of sabbatical, of grace before beginning to really work at finding ministry work. That's not to say that we weren't keeping our eyes open, or looking for other employment, but that we knew it would take time and we wanted to make sure that we gave ourselves that time, rather than panicking the entire time.
Well, 6 months came and went. And now 11 months.
And it is difficult some days. I have very much enjoyed the time that I have had to be able to rest, to preach in various congregations, to do more random things that I might not have had time to do if I was employed full time. I have especially loved the opportunities to resource others either in person, or online as well as my time volunteering at the MC Canada Resource Centre. But it has been a time of mixed feelings, of wondering, of wrestling with questions of my calling and purpose. I would love to be able to just do ministry and never worry about income, but that's not really reality. It's hard to make ends meet on honorariums and I have been endlessly thankful for the help my parents have provided in that regard, as well as for the income Alicia has had through her job in administrative work. And it is not easy to fight the feelings of guilt that arise from being unemployed. I look at job postings and have applied for some, but realistically I am trained for ministry, not administration or sales. I don't know how to use the computer programs they require, I don't have the short course from the community college that is a prerequisite, and it's dishonest to leave off my resume that I have a Master's degree. So I sit in the odd space of being completely unqualified, and yet overqualified at the same time.
And I find myself getting antsy and looking forward. But forward to what? I am completely unsure. Of late I have sensed that I am to pray for my eyes to be opened to the bizarre and the audacious. That God's plans for me are yet to be revealed, and may in fact take shapes that I have never even imagined. And at times I feel filled to overflowing with hope, and at other times I just despair of ever being able to minister in ways that truly use my gifts.
After a year in Winnipeg, I confess to feeling far more confused than when I left Indiana.
So I wait with hope, and with eyes and heart open to the bizarre, whatever that may be.
We knew that moving back to Winnipeg would be a challenge. We knew that it would likely be difficult to find ministry positions, especially given that our internships were primarily done in Indiana. That's where we made relationships and connections surrounding our gifts in ministry so we knew that returning to Winnipeg would be starting over in a sense. Yet we had a clear sense that Winnipeg was the place that we needed to be. So we decided to give ourselves 6 months of sabbatical, of grace before beginning to really work at finding ministry work. That's not to say that we weren't keeping our eyes open, or looking for other employment, but that we knew it would take time and we wanted to make sure that we gave ourselves that time, rather than panicking the entire time.
Well, 6 months came and went. And now 11 months.
And it is difficult some days. I have very much enjoyed the time that I have had to be able to rest, to preach in various congregations, to do more random things that I might not have had time to do if I was employed full time. I have especially loved the opportunities to resource others either in person, or online as well as my time volunteering at the MC Canada Resource Centre. But it has been a time of mixed feelings, of wondering, of wrestling with questions of my calling and purpose. I would love to be able to just do ministry and never worry about income, but that's not really reality. It's hard to make ends meet on honorariums and I have been endlessly thankful for the help my parents have provided in that regard, as well as for the income Alicia has had through her job in administrative work. And it is not easy to fight the feelings of guilt that arise from being unemployed. I look at job postings and have applied for some, but realistically I am trained for ministry, not administration or sales. I don't know how to use the computer programs they require, I don't have the short course from the community college that is a prerequisite, and it's dishonest to leave off my resume that I have a Master's degree. So I sit in the odd space of being completely unqualified, and yet overqualified at the same time.
And I find myself getting antsy and looking forward. But forward to what? I am completely unsure. Of late I have sensed that I am to pray for my eyes to be opened to the bizarre and the audacious. That God's plans for me are yet to be revealed, and may in fact take shapes that I have never even imagined. And at times I feel filled to overflowing with hope, and at other times I just despair of ever being able to minister in ways that truly use my gifts.
After a year in Winnipeg, I confess to feeling far more confused than when I left Indiana.
So I wait with hope, and with eyes and heart open to the bizarre, whatever that may be.
Friday 9 November 2012
To my young friends at Belmont Mennonite Church
Today I am very sad. And I am hurting. Our friend Isaac is sick again and that really stinks. There are no words to describe how awful this is. Sometimes when I feel sad and just awful I don't know what to do, maybe it's the same for you?
Today I remembered that I had a little book on my shelf called "When Someone you Love has Cancer" and I thought I would read it to remind me of some important things, and to share some of those things with you too.
1. When someone we love is sick, it's not our fault. "People get sick, and that's just the way things are sometimes. Know that you did nothing to bring this on."
2. It's okay to cry. "It's OK to be sad, and it's OK to cry. Crying doesn't mean you're not strong. It's just a way for your body to show you are sad." It's totally OK to cry if you feel like it. And if you don't feel like crying, that's OK too.
3. It's OK to be mad or afraid. "Even if you know something about it, cancer can still be scary...Being mad or afraid doesn't mean you're being a baby. It just means that there are things going on that are hard to understand, and that's scary for everyone - even grown-ups. Remember, you can always tell them that you are mad or afraid."
4. It's OK to be happy. "There is much to be sad, mad, and afraid about when someone you love has cancer. But there are still things to be happy about, and it's good to remember that too!"
5. Talking helps. "When there are so many different feelings happening around you, it's good to talk to someone to help understand them all better...there are many people who want to hear how you feel: parents, teachers, ministers, relatives."
6. Do something nice. "No one likes to feel bad, and no amount of ice cream can help that. But it helps when people do nice things to show they care...You can help your loved one feel better by doing something nice for him."
7. Say a prayer. "Prayer is asking God to give us, and the people we love, the things we need most...God listens to all prayer, so you can pray in your own way."
Sometimes I have trouble praying with words when I am very sad. I am so glad that there are other ways to pray like lighting a candle for the person who is sick, sitting quietly with God and crying if I need to, holding a stuffed animal, praying in colour (doodling prayer), using my body to show God how I feel, or dancing to let go of all of the sadness that is all in knots inside of me. Maybe some of these things might be helpful for you too or maybe you have other ways of praying.
Today I am praying for Isaac and his family, and I am also praying for all of you at Belmont who are their friends.
Today I remembered that I had a little book on my shelf called "When Someone you Love has Cancer" and I thought I would read it to remind me of some important things, and to share some of those things with you too.
1. When someone we love is sick, it's not our fault. "People get sick, and that's just the way things are sometimes. Know that you did nothing to bring this on."
2. It's okay to cry. "It's OK to be sad, and it's OK to cry. Crying doesn't mean you're not strong. It's just a way for your body to show you are sad." It's totally OK to cry if you feel like it. And if you don't feel like crying, that's OK too.
3. It's OK to be mad or afraid. "Even if you know something about it, cancer can still be scary...Being mad or afraid doesn't mean you're being a baby. It just means that there are things going on that are hard to understand, and that's scary for everyone - even grown-ups. Remember, you can always tell them that you are mad or afraid."
4. It's OK to be happy. "There is much to be sad, mad, and afraid about when someone you love has cancer. But there are still things to be happy about, and it's good to remember that too!"
5. Talking helps. "When there are so many different feelings happening around you, it's good to talk to someone to help understand them all better...there are many people who want to hear how you feel: parents, teachers, ministers, relatives."
6. Do something nice. "No one likes to feel bad, and no amount of ice cream can help that. But it helps when people do nice things to show they care...You can help your loved one feel better by doing something nice for him."
7. Say a prayer. "Prayer is asking God to give us, and the people we love, the things we need most...God listens to all prayer, so you can pray in your own way."
Sometimes I have trouble praying with words when I am very sad. I am so glad that there are other ways to pray like lighting a candle for the person who is sick, sitting quietly with God and crying if I need to, holding a stuffed animal, praying in colour (doodling prayer), using my body to show God how I feel, or dancing to let go of all of the sadness that is all in knots inside of me. Maybe some of these things might be helpful for you too or maybe you have other ways of praying.
Today I am praying for Isaac and his family, and I am also praying for all of you at Belmont who are their friends.
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