Disclaimer: It speaks on spirituality. I’m not looking to debate or offend or preach or anything. I’m simply looking to give testament to where I am at and some of the process that got me here. My beliefs are part of who I am, all I ask is you accept it as that.
Breakforth Canada was this last weekend. Already there some of you might be scratching your head wondering what Breakforth is. With several thousand people in attendance and it is pretty much like having 4 massive church services in a weekend, alongside of 5 breakout sessions with renowned speakers and authors on a vast number of topics. While it is somewhat designed to be a weekend of spiritual growth and renewal for members of the Christian community, it is (as far as I know) non denominational and not only for believers. It is open to all and like I said, covers a vast number of topics. It was my third time attending and I still absolutely love it. Already when people ask me how my weekend went, I struggle in knowing what to say because I honestly find myself unable to appropriately sum it up in a few words and explain it sufficiently. The simplest way is to say that I think I now have peace where I didn’t know there was turmoil. That I think I have found prayer again and with that I so hope I have found my relationship with Jesus again as I truly believe that prayer is one of the keys to a relationship with my Lord.
I suppose to fully explain what this weekend was for me I do have to go back a little ways- and I should warn you that it might not really make sense to you how it all fits together but this is how it worked for me.
I’ve been struggling with my faith. I know it happens, that we’ve ups and downs in our walk with Christ, and it so happens that my current down has been a long one. Ever since Mike died I’ve had a lot of anger in me at God (which I felt guilty about at first, until I was reminded that anger is ok because it is an honest emotion and God wants us to have honest emotions in our relationship with him. Look at the Psalms! David is angry in them, but that doesn’t lessen the Lord’s love for him) and have had serious trouble connecting to Him. I still believed, that He loved me, that He died for me and rose for me, that my sins are washed away because of His love for me. That I have never questioned. But there was anger and a loss of intimacy that is such a valuable part of being a Christian.
In my social work program, one of the big things they talk about is how important it is for us to be ok with our own issues before we begin to deal with other peoples issues. If my parents were divorced when I was 8 and I’m not over that yet, how can I help someone deal with their own divorce or their parents divorce? Well because of this, most social work students have almost a hyper self awareness, we sit very in tune with our emotions. I heard something in one of my classes that was a kick in the butt for me and after struggling for a few days I called our youth pastor and set up a time to go in and chat with him.
Two days before our meeting I decided to attend a young adults service at a church in the south side that I’ve been going on and off to since the 11th grade (which is like 8 years ago!!!). I had been avoiding it as Mike and I used to go together. That service he spoke of atrophy and the importance of doing things even after we sometimes feel like we don’t want to be doing it any longer. Two days later I sat in front of my youth pastor and told him that I had fully intended to quit doing youth following the upcoming retreat but realized at that service that I needed to see out the year at least. He asked why and I explained to him my lack of a relationship with God and my lack of prayer life. I admitted that over the last 6 months I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’d prayed, and one of those was because on the last retreat we had to pray with the kids from our car. I told him that I didn’t think I was a good example because how can I set an example when I can’t even boast of a strong relationship with Christ. I then opened up and explained that it was more than just my faith, that I didn’t think I could boast of a strong relationship anywhere, that I felt distant from everything and didn’t know what to do. As I talked, he listened and then did what I was unable to do. He labelled it. He summed up my feelings into one word. Disconnected. It was the perfect word. Disconnected from God. Disconnected from my friends. Disconnected from my family. I simply had pulled in and stopped allowing myself to make connections to others.
As soon as the word was on it, it was like I had already turned around. I liken it to the first step in an addiction, admitting the addiction. I put a word on it and realized what I’d been doing. Good friends I had before Mike’s death had been shut out. I would make new friends, hang out and get to know them, but as soon as they really started to matter, I would simply stop contacting them so that they wouldn’t get past that wall I was beginning to build. I realized that I had made some major mistakes in my friendships and to be honest am still not sure I can repair them all. I realized I needed to change how I approached my family life. And most importantly, I had to get reconnected to God. He then told me that the coming weekend I would have to pray with my cabin, just in case I wanted the heads up- and I so appreciated it. He explained that sometimes the most important thing we can do when we are struggling with our faith is to be honest about it to others. I left our meeting with much to think about.
I did pray that weekend. But what is even more amazing is I felt somewhat comfortable doing it. I’ve never been great at prayer, especially aloud, then lost it almost completely within a short time after the burial. Yet somehow, at the retreat, I was comfortable praying with my cabin. I attributed it to having 5 days to think about it, but it stuck. Since then (early Nov ’10?), things have gotten a bit better, I honestly would almost call that a turning point for me. I’ve been happier. I’ve begun singing again. I’m attending the church on the southside more regularly. And while I can’t claim I’m praying daily or reading my bible consistently, I have prayed and for me that is a mountain climbed.
Then this weekend happened. I don’t know if I can explain it very well but I’ll try. It started with a fantastic speaker and some great worship on Fri night, but it was a struggle for me because of memories and I felt claustrophobic in the midst of a section. So Sat morning I joined some other friends sitting in an area no so central. Morning session was great again, speaker and worship. Then it was off to break outs. Now the breakout sessions are picked when we register in like October, so I can’t remember at all what I’m headed into anymore. Turns out my first two are same guy. Interesting. At the first session he spoke of the importance of making the time to meet with Jesus. He explained that prayer is a conversation, not a lecture (a phrase I’ve heard before but no less powerful to be reminded of it). Then he explained a method of meeting Jesus at our own personal place of prayer so that we can sit with him and talk. I was highly intrigued (I took some serious notes on the prayer steps, ask me about it if you want!). Second session, after lunch, he tells us that he is going to break down the two things that cause us pain. The first is the lies that we believe. After speaking about it for a bit he invites us to pray with him, and to go to our meeting place and ask Jesus what lie we’ve been believing about ourselves. He tells us to take this lie, to take it to the cross, to lay it at the foot of the cross and ask Jesus to help us be rid of it at its roots, the roots going to whatever event planted the lie in the first place. As he wraps up the prayer, looks up, sees a woman in tears and straight out begins to talk to her. He asks her if she is ok, if she found her lie and if she was able to bring it to the cross. She says no and starts to cry harder. He then walks her through the steps again, him on stage, her in her seat in the middle of the room, and asks her if she has put it at the foot of the cross. Yes, she has she says. Can she see the banner of what God has to say to you? No she answers, she can’t see anything. Moments later, another attendee raises their hand and states that they can see this woman’s banner (meaning a message from God) and asks if they can say it. Well over the next number of minutes, more than 30 people piped up and told this woman what God had written on her banner, all of them falling into a few specific themes so there was no doubt that they were being used as messengers to get it across to her. Finally the speaker looks at his watch and states, well, I was supposed to talk about the other cause of pain, but God has hijacked this session again so I guess we’ll leave it there. It was a powerful prayer moment.
I went to half of my next session, met up with the other youth leaders for dinner then a girlfriend and I joined my other friends (a couple of guys I met at my first Breakforth actually) again for the after dinner session and concert. After the session (which I loved the worship but didn’t like the speaker at all. Scare tactics are not ok in my book), I turned to my girlfriend and said to her, I really feel like you should be prayed for, can we go down to the prayer room. I’ve known her for years and have never said something like that to her before. She looks at me and says, I don’t really like being prayed over, but as long as you come with me ok. So we went downstairs, sat down with a prayer volunteer and she was prayed for. However as we left the room I really felt it wasn’t enough yet so I bit the bullet and said to her “I don’t know if that was what you were looking for, and I’m not comfortable really doing it and I know you aren’t comfortable getting it done, but can I pray for you as well? I really feel like there is more that needs to be said”. Somehow she agreed and we sat down, and after a bit of awkwardness on my part, I did just that. By the end of it, I had a certain peace that had been growing in me all day. It just felt good. So we went upstairs, enjoyed the concert (so good- Paul Baloche, Brian Doerksen, and a couple others that were great too!) and called it a night.
Then today (almost done I promise) I go to my first session of the day and am uncomfortable as soon as I walk into the room. The session hasn’t started yet, but there are about half a dozen people around the room standing there praying. I nearly turned around but made myself sit, there had to be a reason I picked it so I had to give it at least 5-10 mins. Well when it starts he explains that the session is about taking some time with Jesus and if we need to write while we do it, or draw then we should. Well imagine my intrigue at the thought of writing my prayer. Not so comfortable with prayer. Really comfortable with writing (as you can see), well lets try it... I can honestly say that by the end of that hour, I felt more peace than I have felt in a year and a half, likely longer. I felt like I had sat and bared myself to my Lord and it was an amazing feeling. I left the session feeling like the weight that had started to shift in November and start to shake yesterday, it had finally fallen. I felt like I had found prayer. Like I had found my relationship with God again. And with that, like I had begun to rediscover a contentment I had forgotten. Like I had taken a step towards being comfortable with who I am again. Like I had just taken a major leap towards becoming the person that I want to be. The last breakout was pretty good, and the final main session a reminder that the rough times in our lives build us up to be better people, led into by some amazing worship again.
So how was my weekend? Well, like I said above, I found peace where I didn’t realize there was turmoil. I found prayer when I had nearly given up on it. I found contentment I had forgotten existed. I found friendships that I’ve taken for granted, and realized others that, to be honest, I’ve likely wasted time on trying. I found Laura and have begun to bring her back. I dare say, my weekend, was great. It was a gift.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, August 07, 2009
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,
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
Saturday, March 21, 2009
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...
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...
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