Puzzle of My Life

*Disclaimer- honest thoughts below. A little bit long. A little bit random. Totally from the heart.

It blows my mind how life happens sometimes. I know it’s been along while, and to be honest I am hesitant about writing even now, it’s been hard to find the words to express what I have been feeling since Mike died. But sitting by the ocean today I felt the need to write and when we got back to the house I still felt the urge and so I will share my thoughts from today, and add some to it before and after. It is random- I know it, but those who know me well know that I usually am random so that isn’t unusual. It asks a lot of questions, but again, not unusual for me. It shares my thoughts and feelings and I think over the last year that has been the hardest concept for me in regards to posting on here again- do people really want to hear my thoughts and feelings? Do they care? Do they judge me for them? Is it trivial to even bother. Then I thought to myself today, if they don’t want to know them, they wont read them (if that means you, please just save us both the hassle and stop now). If they will judge me for them, hopefully they care enough to not tell me, to keep it to themselves. And anything beyond that, I am just sharing my thoughts, often through a stream of consciousness, it isn’t politically, academically, philosophically, or spiritually correct at all times, it is just coming from my heart and being put onto paper. So here goes.

I don’t think that people really understand grief. I don’t think anyone can possibly understand the pain, suffering, and loss that another goes through after a death of a loved one- family, friend, acquaintance, or even pet. It is impossible, I think, for anyone else to completely understand the importance your relationship with that person or creature had on you. It could be someone you barely knew, and still the loss could affect you in ways never imagined. Or it could be someone more dear to you than anyone else, and as a result, completely rock your world. But in the end, the grief is personal. It lessens if you share it- with those who are grieving for the same person, with those who might not of known the person but who know you and want to help you through your loss, and with random people through random stories or memories. These opportunities to share your grief are so valuable and can work wonders. But at the same time, it is hard to share your grief because it is so personal and it is so hard to explain. Nobody on the ‘outside’ seems to understand it, and you can’t explain it. Why does it hurt so bad? I don’t know. Why does it last so long? I don’t know. Why are you still having problems with it so long after it happened? I don’t know. When are you gonna get back to ‘normal’? I don’t know. There are so many “whys” and “whens” that come from those around you, people who don’t understand and either want to help or simply think that the ‘grieving period’ should be over- but the problem is there aren’t answers. I don’t blame them for not understanding, I don’t get it myself, it is just frustrating. It takes time. I heard at a conference that the worst of the grief doesn’t even begin to set in until a significant time period has passed. It is normal to need time.

Now to be fair, with that time does come healing. I know I am getting better. The music is starting to come back- as in I like listening to it again. I like singing along sometimes again (not as often as before, but getting better). I’ve even done karaoke a few times lately. The music is starting to play in my head again, which might sound ridiculous but it is something that I have dearly missed. I am starting to find myself happier and more relaxed again. It is becoming easier to see the joy in life, to appreciate the little things and the big things, and to acknowledge those moments that require we notice them. That isn’t to say I don’t have my bad moments. There are still moments that trigger me like nothing I could have imagined. I’ve experienced some minor panic attacks for the first time in my life. I am avoiding certain places, although they are getting less and less and I figure it’s better to face them than to keep running away from them. The worst of my bad moments is that I am struggling spiritually. I still believe, I know He is there and all of that, and really I don’t know how to explain my struggles but to say that my relationship with God is definitely not at its best, but even as I say that I know that it is sitting there, waiting for me to weed out the crap and let it bloom.

But I don’t think I can handle much more of the deep stuff right now, so taking a break and let me share what got me writing this afternoon.

I’m on a road trip, two weeks long, with my cousin from Holland (well, 2nd cousin once removed if you want to get technical) and we are staying with a good friend of mine in Mission for a couple of days. Early this morning the three of us headed out to Vancouver Island for the day. Somehow, I am sitting here on Vancouver Island with two men that I hardly ever see and yet I feel so relaxed, so at easy that it actually blows my mind. To be fair, both are ridiculously easy going and they get along famously which is awesome and definitely simplifies the whole day, but regardless, I can’t believe how life can work sometimes.

In two days it will be the 1 year anniversary of Mike’s death. A date that I have been dreading- for what I think of obvious reasons. Yet somehow, rather than keeping my nose to the grindstone and drawing into myself, hiding from the world as I deal with my personal issues, I find myself taking a lazy day, relaxing on Vancouver Island while two men who are dear to me hunt for crabs among the rocks as the tide begins to rise. Instead of hiding in my room, avoiding people, and trying to figure out what I will do to forget the day, I am enjoying the day that I am on, living my life and laying on a piece of driftwood, sunning myself among the rocks, listening to the waves, smelling the salt, watching Kurt and Rene hunt crabs, and feeling the heat of the sun, barely into a two week road trip that will take me over 5000 Miles before it is done- something I have dreamed of doing but never figured to become a reality- especially so soon!

What gets me the most, ignoring the obvious ‘hey, I’m road tripping with a cousin I’ve spent maybe the equivalence of two ½ weeks with and visiting a guy I met at a wedding when I was 16’ is that I am the first to admit I haven’t been very strong in my walk with God (as I touched upon above) and yet somehow He still cares enough to have me out and distracted on the days leading up to, and following (and hopefully on), the anniversary. How Great Is Our God that He cares so much that He doesn’t just create the pieces of the puzzles of our life, but He patiently guides us through them, fully aware that even when a puzzle is completed we might not see the whole picture and actually might still be unaware of the wonder and magnificence of what He has so lovingly shaped. I haven’t been praying much. I haven’t been singing. I haven’t been listening. I haven’t been worshipping. I haven’t been a trusting daughter of the King but that doesn’t matter to Him. Somehow, He still knows exactly what I needed, no. not past tense. He still knows exactly what I need, and provides the opportunities for it to be so. He still loves me so much that He just keeps waiting, watching me and smiling as I fit together the pieces that He has laid out for me.

He brought me here, I know it without a shadow of a doubt, here to the island, here to relaxation, here to moments of peace, here to contentment, with two men whom matter to me so much, each in their own way, and He gives me precisely what I need. I don’t know what to say to Him but thank you. For the puzzle that is my life. For the pieces He has made for me. For the guidance to put them as they belong. Thank you, for the love and care and watchful eye. Thank you for the friends that matter so much and who care for me and remind me that it is ok to keep trusting people to be there for me. Thank you, for the men in my life, the ones that really matter, past and present. Thank you. For taking my heart and holding it tight, guarding it as I struggle through the rough patches.

RIP Mike

I’m not really sure how I am supposed to act. What I am supposed to say. What I should be doing. My world has been tilted on its axis and to be honest, if I didn’t have the Lord next to me holding my hand, I am pretty sure I’d have fallen off by now.

Hold up. What? I guess I might explain myself better than that. I’ll try, but although it’s getting better, my thoughts are kind of a mess.

Mike died. You know Mike, he has been a part of my life for ages, first as the older brother to a friend, the friend of my sister, the son of my parents friends, then as my friend, as my boy friend, and finally as a best friend. He died on July 29th while on vacation in BC with his entire immediate family. They were cliff jumping and on his second jump, he didn’t resurface. The next morning the RCMP dive team headed out and within three hours had found his body- he had been underwater for 22 hours.

I miss him. Before anything else I hope that much is clear and obvious. Truthfully I missed him before, as we have had some distance between us for the last few months, I had been hoping recently that perhaps we might get past that and be ok again, back to hanging out as much as we have in the past, but I guess it’s too late now.

I’ve been struggling with his death, as anyone does, but even more so because it is Mike. He is, unquestionably, the closest thing I’ve ever had outside of my immediate family, knows me best, and closest to my heart. I have never known anyone else so full of life, so determined to have a good time, someone so willing to give up his own interests and spare time in order to help those around him and to spend time with the youth. He has grown so much in his faith the last few years and it has been a pleasure to watch. But somehow, despite all this, despite the huge impact he was having on the youth and the world that was opening up for him as he left his career to learn more about the Lord he loved and in his own words, ‘being ready to go’ wherever the Lord might call him, despite this, he was called Home.

I find peace in many little things surrounding his death. A week and a half before he died, his younger sister got married. Personally, despite the distance that was between us, I had a ridiculously strong urge to go, I felt I had to be there, that I had to show him my support and that even though we weren’t spending time together, he still mattered to me, I can only hope he understood and realized how much I still care. So I arranged to be off work early, and headed out to the wedding (which was beautiful). Afterwards I had another strong urge, I had to talk to him. So I did. At the time it seemed odd, but now I understand why. As we caught up, I learnt he had sold his house in St. Albert, was taking the insurance off his crotch rocket, was working his way through his Bible, was really excited for the upcoming mission trip to Slovakia, and thrilled about entering the program at Mount Caramel Bible College. He told me in no uncertain terms that he had pretty much cut off his ties here, that there was no longer anything holding him back and he was ready to go. When I asked where in particular, he kinda looked at me funny and told me “Wherever God wants me to be”. It was a powerful statement and one I never would have guessed would be put into practice so soon. After our talk and a quick jaunt through the receiving line, I slipped away without a good bye and left him to family and friends and the celebration surrounding Kari and Jordans’ union. He was happy, strong in his faith, and truly getting into what he felt God wanted him to do, it’s all I needed to know at that time.

I realize now a lot of things surrounding that short conversation. My strong, inexplicable urge to go to the wedding, wasn’t of my own decision. I believe completely that God wanted me to go, to speak to Mike, to catch up on life and see how content he was, how on fire he had become for the Lord, how happy he was with his life, and how much he was anticipating whatever his Savior might throw at him. I’ve thought long and hard in the last couple weeks and cannot remember the last time we had talked outside of that talk, possibly going all the way back to his birthday on April 8, when we stood outside church, looking at my brand new car, and catching up. The Lord wanted me to have a good and recent conversation to remember His servant, to remember my best friend. And it worked. I had known before that Mike had grown in his faith, had watched it happen really, but hearing him say he was reading his Bible (especially as he was not a reader) and that he was ready to go out into God’s Kingdom and spread the news, was such a blessing that I couldn’t be more grateful for those ten minutes or so I got to speak to him.

I believe that there are other little blessings surrounding his death:

I know without a doubt that he was having a heck of a time. Anyone who knew Mike knows he loved adventure and fun, and what could be better than jumping from 70 feet into the water surrounded by the family that he cared so much about.

I find peace and reassurance in the fact that he was knocked unconscious upon impact with the water and that the chances of him being aware of the fact his time on earth was finished were very slim. For me, there is great peace in knowing that while he might of been thinking, this is gonna hurt, it’s doubtful he would have assumed more than that.

The discovery of his body, as terrible as that may seem. I guess last year at least three people died there, jumping from those cliffs, and their bodies were not found. The fact that his was found so quickly following the arrival of the dive team, on a ledge some 72 feet underwater, is proof of God’s mercy, His comfort for those left behind to mourn.

There is a couple verses that someone mentioned to Shelly, and I am so grateful for it, because it seems to be a direct answer for why God would take someone like Mike.

Isaiah 57
1 The righteous perish,

and no one ponders it in his heart;

devout men are taken away,

and no one understands

that the righteous are taken away

to be spared from evil.

2 Those who walk uprightly

enter into peace;

they find rest as they lie in death.

And finally, although I’m not sure blessing is the right word for it, someone made an interesting point to me a few days ago. He was competitive- once again not a secret. he loved to win, to be first. Somehow, although I wish it weren’t true, I wish it wasn’t the case, and I wish he was still with us so I could speak to him again, so I could tell him how I feel, how much he means to me- Mike definitely loved to be first, the first to finish something, the first to try something, so I suppose he should be the first to get to Heaven, the first to meet our Maker face to face, the first to sing praises with the Heavenly Host. He is gonna be standing at St. Peters gate, waiting to show us around when we get there, and I doubt there will be a better guide, because he will have tried everything to the max!

I could go on and on, but I have to get ready for work, proof that somehow, life must go on. Truthfully, I just keep waiting to wake up, I keep hoping that I am going to roll over, hit the alarm, and find out that the last two and a half weeks were a terrible dream, denial is a great coping mechanism I don’t care what people tell you otherwise. I am angry with God, there is no question about it, but my sister-in-law tells me that it is ok to be angry with Him (don’t believe it? Read the Psalms!), it is a relationship after all, we don’t always have to be happy with what happens. Even through my anger, I know He has a purpose for it, one that I will likely never understand.

I will miss you Mike, may you rest in peace, may you explore every inch of Heaven, and I will see you when I get there, can’t wait to see you when I get there. God Bless

http://www.legacy.com/can-edmonton/Obituaries.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=130925505

Who me? Excuse me??

I suppose before I jump into the little story I've been meaning to share, I should fill in a few blank spots.

I got a new job. Yep. I am now serving at a local Swiss Chalet, and I actually really like it. I have been there for about a month and a half and it is unquestionable I am still the new girl, the rookie on the floor, but I really do like it. It is surprisingly good money, the food is priced well, and I feel like the customers are politer- not in the fact that it isn't truck drivers anymore, but the local customers- we got those at the Flying J too, but somehow they seem friendlier and more patient here. I quite like it. Hope it continues to go as well as it has, I can only improve and lets be honest, a server who feels more comfortable is a better server and a better server makes more money, so I look forward to learning!

I got accepted into Macewan's Social Work program!!!!! For most of you, you know that, but I really feel like I should share that anyways. Its conditional, but the conditions are simply based on my Crimanal record check and my security something check. Both of which have a 6 month expiry so ppl from within the program actually told me to wait before sending those in, do it within 6 months and I can use the same checks for my field placement. I am so ridiculously stoked about it that I can't even begin to explain it! It is a career thing and it makes me feel like an adult more so than ever before, but its ok, I'm psyched, it is going to be awesome!

I bought a car. The car I have been driving for the last 3 1/2 years developed a little knock in the engine that turned into not such a little thing. Replacing it with just a used engine would have cost almost 2000 and that just doesn't make sense- esp since there are no promises on a used engine, so I went out and bought a brand spanking new 2009 Chevy Cobalt LT. It is currently on the train headed here, and I can not wait to get it! I am financing it, but definitely plan on paying it off sooner than the conctract says.

And finally, a couple weeks ago, my Uncle 'upgraded' as the pastor at the funeral said. He has moved on to a better place. It is sad and hard to say goodbye, but at least I know he isn't in pain. My prayers continue to be with his family as their loss is a great one.

On to my adventure?

So last Saturday, after I get back from the airport, I get dropped off at home (borrowed moms car for a while, and Shellys for a bit, not sure what I am going to do the next couple weeks just yet...) and get ready for work. I was closing the restaurant, but hey, we close at 10 so no big deal right? The last table sat forever, and it was my first close, so around 11 I finally get out of there and am headed to Leigha's to watch a movie and spend the night. On the drive, I figure, hey, pick up a bottle of wine to share/drink, and do so. Didn't even cross my mind that Leigha isn't a big wine fan and she might not have a cork screw...

So I get to her house and we start riffling through the drawers, and, naturally, the corkscrew she thought she had, belonged to a previous roommate. Now what? So we text a friend who manages a bar, asking him, how do you open wine without a cork screw? He gives a suggestion, and it didnt work. So we hack at it for a while and nothing. Finally we give up and determine if we leave quickly, we might make it to a liquor store by midnight to buy one. So we jump into the car and head to the nearest store. It closed at 11. But there is one across the street, so we go there. It cloeses at 12, but we pulled up at about 12:02. Yep, that close. But there has to be one that is open late? I mean, we are in Castledowns area, surely there is an open liquor store at midnight on a Saturday night. On the way to the next one, we stop at a Shoppers. Nope, closed at midnight, and even though it is now just 12:05 and someone is in line to pay for their items, we can't get in. Well after another 1/2 dozen tries, we stumble upon an open grocery store. To get in, I have to knock on the door, the cashier unlocks the door, lets me in, and then shuts it behind me, relocking it. Sure makes you feel safe in that part of town huh? But, nope, the mom and pop grocery store does not have any corkscrews. Pop into a 7-11, ask the cashier, she tells me no, so we move on. Finally, after probably close to a dozen stops/drives by various liquor stores and the like, we are headed back towards her place. On the way we pass a Macs and figure, what the heck right?

This is where it gets more interesting.

I'm wearing my charcol black dress jacket and a black scarf- a fashion scarf, not a cover your face to keep warm scarf. So I walk into the Macs and there is this guy, Middle Eastern I think, behind the counter on his Cell. He hangs up right away, and looks at me funny. This is how the exchange went: (L-Laura, E-Employee)
L- "Do you sell Corkscrews?" Said as I am laughing about something Leigha said as I walk into the store and up to the counter.
E- "I don't have access to the safe. I can't help you" He is looking at me like I am nuts.
L- "Excuse me? No, I want a cork screw, you know, used to open wine?" Thinking to myself, access to the safe, what the heck?
E- "My manager isn't here, I can't get into the safe" He is looking at me sorta wide eyed and almost looking slightly alarmed at this point. I am seriously thinking to myself, this guy is crazy! I park right in front, get out laughing, walk in when another customer had been there, and ask for a corkscrew and he seriously seems to think I am going to Rob him.
L- "No, look. (said ridiculously slowly) I want a cork screw. You know, a cork screw, to open a bottle of wine? You turn it into the cork and then pull it out?"
E- "No." To which I roll my eyes, determine I should look myself, walk up to a shelf, pull off a 3$ corkscrew, and walk back up to the counter, putting it down, perhaps a little forcefully,
L- "Just the corkscrew thanks, that'll be all" Possibly said with some sarcasm. So I pay for it and walk out.

Needless to say, it was an amusing way to spend 40 minutes, most work I've ever done for a bottle of wine, but it was fun and turned into a great story.

Oh ya. My second favorite part? The Macs store we ended up buying the cork screw from?

It shared a parking lot with the first liquor store...

Prayer Question

Those of you on my facebook already know this, but my uncle is sick. He was diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer and it has already spread to his liver so medically speaking there is not much that can be done other than make him comfortable. It the other healing power that has me a little confused.

The natural instinct upon hearing this is to pray for healing. For the miracle that only God can perform, for the instant and medically inexplicable healing that Bible readers and other faithful know He is capable of.

The other option is to pray for peace. For calmness. For understanding. For acceptance. For strength. And all of those are to deal with the worst. With the impending passing.

Ok. So I know technically that you can pray for both, there is nothing wrong with it, but I am confused as to what is 'right'. I mean, I've always thought that we are supposed to accept God's will, that we are called to willingly accept His plan for us. But at the same time, there is alot out there about the power of prayer and how He will sometimes leave His intended course for another path, perhaps in the sense of healing someone.

So what is 'proper' to pray for? Healing or peace? I feel like I am contradicting myself asking both, but will continue to do so. Just feels like a conundrum.

My prayers and thoughts and love are with my uncle and his family. If you have a few to spare, I'd appreciate if you'd send some in his honor as well. Thanks.