Part Nine: acceptance

 

The rest of the climb is easy because I am not focused on anything but the very real feeling that on December 8^th,  on my drive to Munich something will happen to me, I can’t shake that feeling or maybe I should say I can’t shake the knowledge. It’s as real as the fog in the valley, as real as the village hidden beneath and as real as the sun breaking over the mountain peaks to the east. I walk slowly, trying to figure out what I feel about it, I can’t say I am comfortable with it, not afraid but unsettled. It doesn’t make any sense to me and I can’t fathom all that God has been saying to me in light of this new knowledge. I reach the stone steps and don’t stop, I don’t turn to take in the valley below, with the sun finally burning through the clouds and slowly bringing the village into sight, I don’t pause for oxygen, I just keep going, lost in thought. Through the castle gate, up the long drive to the wooden stairs that lead me to the far side of the courtyard closest to the hotel side where the kaminzimmer is. I pass people on the way and smile and say hello but I don’t stop to talk, I don’t head to the kitchen for a coffee and chit chat with the chef, I am moving on autopilot to the chair before the fireplace where I will sit and spend the day thinking, praying and trying for figure out what this new piece of information reveals.

 

The Kaminzimmer is cool this morning, no fire is lit yet and so I gather a pile of wood, and stoop before the giant stone hearth to light it, blowing it when it finally catches the kindling enough to spread. When the fire is finally large enough that I can leave it untended I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself and settle into my chair. My Bible sits in my lap, but it remains unopened as I stare into the flames, mesmerized by the flickering light. I can hear a vacuum in the hall outside and the gentle clatter of dishes being cleared from tables in the dining room. I listen to the voices of the servers not understanding the polish they are speaking but comforted by the sound of people going about their lives around me and then I go back to that thought. Will I really die? Can that really be what I heard God saying? It can’t be true, I nod as if to reassure myself. No, it’s not true it’s just my silly imagination. I decide I am right and start to read my Bible, looking for more truths, more answers, more information about the rescue plan in place for humanity.

 

As lunch approaches I pull myself from my Bible and make my way through the hotel entrance to the kitchen where I fill my mug with some chicken broth and then quickly leave so as not to have to stop and talk. I place the mug at the hearth and add a log to the fire. The sounds of people working is gone, they are all eating in the student side dining room and I can almost imagine I am alone in this old castle. Three times today while reading and praying God has raised my death as as issue, each time I shrug it off, each time telling myself I am crazy and each time sensing that this is actually something I believe deep down. I sip the hot broth from my mug and allow myself to go there, to really contemplate it in my mind.  I think about the ways in which it could happen, and I finally decide that given the time of year and the roads I will need to travel that it will likely be a car accident. I think about the moment, imagining it in full colour and I surprise myself when I am not afraid. I pray only that it won’t hurt too much, and that I am found quickly so my parents don’t have to live through a search. The idea that death doesn’t scare me is new to me, but in this new place I have found with God I know that no matter how I die, how much it hurts, I will wake up with Jesus and the suffering, all of it, the physical, the mental, the emotional, all of it will end and I will be fully loved, forever.  “OK, I say out loud to God, if that’s what you want then I'm okay with it.” And the strangest part of the whole thing was that I really was okay with it.

 

To be continued…

 

Part 8: Really? You sure?

 

My bed is very cozy, I woke up not ago but I can’t seem to drag myself from my bed even with the delicious smell of fresh coffee that my housemate is brewing that I know he will share with me. It’s been one three weeks since that night at the castle, three weeks since that phone call and now plans were underway to meet in Munich airport on December 8^th for a belongings drop and retrieval.. That is just days away now and I lift my hands to my face and rub at my eyes as if I was rubbing it out of my mind for another day. It has been such a great few week, I have spend everyday in the kaminzimmer tucked into chair by the fire reading the Bible and praying for hours and hours on end and I still can’t get enough. I have had my earphones in and listening to worship music and it’s been an amazing restoration time. I have been avoiding people but only because they tend to get in the way of what is happening to me in this space I have found myself. It’s like a birth process in some ways. The more I read and learn and the more I pray the more I find myself so deeply rooted in this new love that I found. I feel so different, so loved, so worthy of the fullness he talks of giving his children. I wish I could do this forever I think to myself, this time is a rare gift and deep down I know it. This morning though I know that if I don’t get that coffee it’ll be cold and coffee is important to me so I push the covers aside and get dressed to go in search of the brew.

 

I turn down the ride to the castle in favor of the walk, and as I climb I think of all the amazing things God has been saying to me this last month. I knew for example that God did indeed have a man already picked out for me, I could stop searching for him because when the time was right God would bring him to me. I also knew that I was to be moving back to Canada, something I hadn’t ever planned to do but which seemed God really wanted, when I begged him to send me anywhere else he gave me a vision. I was walking down a pier I knew well from many visits in the past, as I walked along this pier there was a sailboat and a man with a yellow rain slicker on, it was very windy and the man offered me his hand to pull me on his boat. The pier the Oakville pier, and somehow I knew that the man was the one who would offer me his hand in an entirely different journey. There wasn’t fighting with him after that vision, I knew I would go to Canada and that I was being sent to Oakville of all places. (I have never lived in Oakville before, only ever surrounding it).

There is a bench that sits about half way up the mountain that looks out over the valley, I almost always stop at that bench and contemplate the valley, the way the fog sort of sits down there and the village disappears and I am above the clouds. When you look down the length of the valley towards Zell am See it’s like you are actually looking at a long lake between mountains, and if one was planted here for just a moment they  wouldn’t believe it if you said there was green pastures, a river and a village; it was all gone in the morning, blanketed in the fog until the sun woke up fully and burned it off.

 

I sat on the bench this morning, it wasn’t too cold today but still the seat beneath me was gripping the cold from the night so through my jeans I could feel the chill. A feeling I can’t describe comes over me, it’s a peaceful feeling but there is a message hidden in it that leaves me questioning everything, I question God, ‘what is it? What are you saying?” and that feeling persist. I don’t feel scared or worried or anxious but acceptance that this is what is and I don’t understand all that God has been saying and doing in my life if that is his plan. The feeling, it was that of impending death, my own, on December 8^th.

 

To be continued…

 

*Kaminzimmer means common room or great room, a gathering space of sorts

 

Part seven: look up

 

 

The countryside is dark, I mean, really dark and it’s quiet accept for the occasional sound of a cowbell in the distance letting you know that the cows were close or moving further away as it sounds tonight. It’s late, I stayed too long in the cellar enjoying the company and forgetting everything else for a while but now it is the wee hours of morning and my body is tired. I’m walking a different way home tonight, through the neighbors farm because it’s less steep and though it adds a lot of distance to my walk it is easier in the dark but that doesn’t make it any less dark tonight. I can’t see my hand in front of me, forget trying to see my feet or any possibly pitfalls below me. It’s a long and slow walk. I keep my eyes trained on my feet, sometimes catching the shadow of the moon on the side of a rock and manage to keep from tripping. It’s weird how earlier the moonlight was so bright and now, when I need it most it’s all but gone, hiding as if to laugh at me when I stumble into a cow pie or land in the mud. I think about that stupid mobile phone sitting in my desk drawer and wish for it’s light and then grumble at myself when I remember why it was in the drawer to begin with. I get to what should be the middle of the farmers field, the valley is below me and the castle about a hundred yards behind me and I stop to try to see which direction I’m heading, making sure it’s not into the cows and at least sort of heading towards the narrow cart path that lies about two hundred yards ahead and below me but as I gaze out into the darkness I also happen to look up and then I’m stuck in my spot unable to move. The night sky is pitch black, darker because the moon is lower tonight and hiding just a little behind a mountain top, but as I gaze up I see a million stars and I can’t breathe with the beauty of it. How many years have you been around I wonder when I see one winking at me, are you dying or have you died long ago and I am only now standing witness to it. I don’t know how long I have been standing in the spot but I hear the cow bell again and it’s closer than before so I shake myself from my thoughts and once again turn in the general direction of home. The path doesn’t seem as dark now, it’s crazy but I’m so busy looking up at the stars at first that I don’t notice that I am trusting my feet, I’m trusting the knowledge that I have been here before and know my way, I’m just walking and looking up, and I realize that I have already cross the field and have come to the cart path that will lead me safely down the mountain towards home. My eyes have become adjusted to the light, my feet more confident in their footing I find myself able to think about something other than where I am and where I am going, I can allow myself time to listen to the sounds of the night. It is while I am listening, about half way down the mountain that a strange thought smacks me upside the head. When I was busy looking down, trying to figure my way out and avoid falling I was struggling, grumbling about the lack of the moonlight or that damn phone but when I stopped, when I focused on looking up, trusting my feet, trusting the path that I am on I found my way easily even though it is still dark, even though I can’t see my feet. Life I think to myself, life is just like that sometimes, like now. I have no idea what next week or next month will hold, I have no idea what plans God has for me, I can’t see my footing there any more than I can see it here but if I stop struggling, stop trying to figure out one my own and allow myself to look up, follow God, trusting the path he has me on then it will get easier too. I smile as I reach the final turn in the zigzag path and see the small park where I turn into town, at the opening to the park is a street light and there is comfort in it’s light.  I walk under the light and see the next one seven or eight feet away and so it goes for the rest of the walk into town, through the small village towards home.  When I crawl into bed, thinking about the night I just had I am left in awe that I feel so free, so much more sure of where I am going even as I have no idea where that might lead. I have started on the path, and right now it’s dark but I promise myself that I will keep looking up and deep in my heart I know that it will lead to a street light, and then more street lights and then one day, one day it will lead me home. I close my eyes and allow sleep to claim me.

 

To be continued...

Part six: making the call

My office sits on the second floor of what is called the ‘Student side’, I share it with two others and often one of them works late but she isn’t here tonight, and I’m grateful,  though her conversations always either soothe me or make me laugh but tonight I need the quiet office to myself. I move to the desk, put my coat on the back of my chair and I sit. I pick up my phone and dial. My fingers play with the cord as I wait for the ringing to start and when it does my I can feel my pulse quicken, nerves have me pulling the cord more taught and I have to stop myself before it pulls from the wall entirely. When I hear his voice I pause a beat before saying hello. “Breathe” I tell myself and then I begin the conversation that had been weighing on me all day. I had already moved many of my things to England in anticipation of the move but now I had decided I wasn’t moving and I needed a plan to retrieve my things, it wasn’t going to be an easy conversation so I stalled a little while and asked how his day was going. He was short with me, not wanting to chit chat so finally I had to just come out and say it. “I’m not coming to England.”. I blurted it out by accident in my haste to get it over with and the speech I had previously prepared was gone out the window. I paused; he paused, and then I heard the audible exhale of breath. We talked at length about how we had planned to try to work things through, I try to explain what’s been happening to me, how God has been showing me that I have been looking in the wrong places for love, that he is speaking to me, calling me to him, and that I needed to follow him but nothing was coming out right. I try telling him about how God has been using the story of Abraham and Sarah to talk to me about love, and his promises, how they had tried to maneuver to make the promise happen which ended with Ishmael but that wasn’t God’s plan, he had promised them a child through Sarah, and when they accepted that promise God delivered.  I twist the phone cord more and more in my hand and my fingers turn white, nothing was coming out right, he’s angry with me, he isn’t yelling but I can hear the unspoken words, the clipped way says ‘uh huh’ as I try to tell him what’s happening to me. I tell him how I think we had been trying to create the promise of love and marriage through each other when actually God had something else planned for us, that God had promised it yes but it had to be his choosing but all he hears is me saying that he is Ishmael and he begins screaming about me calling him a bastard. I hold the phone away from my ear, the peace from the chapel is dissipating and I close my eyes willing it to come back, I try assuring him that I don’t think he’s a bastard, that it was meant as a metaphor but he’s beyond hearing me now. I sit, listening to the screaming until finally his temper begins to cool and then I tell him I need to get my stuff back and he hangs up. I put the receiver back in the cradle and lay my head down on my desk, deep breaths, I have to count them because ten just isn’t cutting it and I wonder how many it will take to get my own blood pressure to lower. Nothing about that had gone according to plan I think to myself as I lie with my cheek pressed against the coolness of my desk, my arms hung limp beside me and I must have looked a little like a cartoon character from an office comic strip. I have no energy, only questions and frustrations and yet, beneath it all I also have a sense of ‘okayness’ that I didn’t possess before tonight. I wasn’t happy, but there was a peace and joy that I’m struggling to define.  I had been lying like that for another ten minutes when my phone rang, it was the mobile one this time so I knew immediately who it was and though I didn’t want to be screamed at anymore I also felt a calmness wash over me and I answered despite my misgivings. I knew immediately that he had cooled, he apologized, and then shocking me, he told me that he would pack my things and fly them out to me. Part of me would have rather thrown everything away rather than have to face him again but then the calmness comes, it covers me like a blanket and I find myself agreeing. He says he will get back to me when he knows when he can come and I say thank you and we end the call.  I throw the mobile into the desk drawer beside the discarded ring and quickly grab my jacket and leave so that he doesn’t have a chance to call back while I am in hearing distance, best to leave it on a decent note I think to myself as I head back to the cellar to forget the call and enjoy the people in my life that I love.

 

 

 

To be continued…

Part Five: dancing moonlight

The day after I took the ring off my finger I remember walking into my bosses office feeling like I was going to throw up, how do I begin I kept thinking to myself. I sat in his chair and he smiled at me, knowing something was wrong and not pushing me to start until I was ready,  he was always so patient. When I finally sputtered out that I wasn’t getting married, that the whole ‘Im leaving in October thing isn’t happening’ he listened with no words and then he nodded and said ‘ it sounds like what you need is some time to think. This is your home Laurie, we won’t kick you out. Take whatever time you need to stop and pray and think and then we can talk again”.  I think about that statement a lot these days, it was the same man who told me four years before when I had been looking to leave Canada again ‘you always have a home here, just say the word’ and here he was still saying the same thing. This man, who was always so gracious, so humble and loving was giving me breathing room for the third time in my life. The first, when I was nineteen and not knowing what I wanted in the world, the second when I needed a fresh start somewhere other than Canada and now again, when I felt most alone and unsure he was offering me safe haven. “Sounds like you need time to think” echoes in the darkness around me and I turn back towards the steps of the tower that would lead me back to the chapel.  They are old wooden steps, and the middle of each step is deeply grooved with hundreds of years of use. I have sat on them countless times, running my hands over the smooth wood and wondered about who came before me, and who would come after me. Tonight though, I don’t notice the grooves,  where I was reluctant before I now feel a fresh urgency to seek the chapel and pray about the phone call. I moved quietly, not wanting to be seen, not wanting company, just wanting time alone with God. The door of the chapel is always a little bit open, as if inviting people to come and spend time within it’s walls, it’s unheated but you don’t ever feel cold in there. The ceiling is tall, the windows small, allowing for only a small slit of moonlight. I slide into the pew behind the door on the off chance someone peaks in; I just desperately want to be alone in this moment.  I stare up at the moonlight on the wall, it’s almost dancing up there, I start to pray but falter, what is it I can possibly say to the maker of the Universe that would make any sense. There are so many unknowns right now and all I really want are answers. I try again, and then bow my head in frustration. “I wish I had the words Lord.” I muttered to myself, to the walls and ultimately to God himself. Then, deep inside me an old hymn started to come out from the shadows, reminding me of the beautiful love and mercy and faithfulness of this God who loves me so much, of this God who I have so recently come to love as my own.

 

 

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;

There is no shadow of turning with Thee;

Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;

As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,

Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above;

Join with all nature in manifold witness

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,

Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;

Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

 

Sitting in the darkness of the chapel that night, watching the dust dance in the moonlight, singing quietly the words to that old hymn I had a renewing in my spirit. I was loved but more than that I had finally found the love that I had always been searching for and I was flooded with emotions, I wanted to know everything I could about this God who could love me so much, who would pursue me and romance me and fight for me, the God who believed me to be beautiful, the God who made me and signed me with his signature as if I was his greatest masterpiece. At once the unknowns that plagued me, the loneliness that I feared would define me were gone and I was full of joy. I sit here, still watching the moonlight dancing, a smile on my lips knowing for the first time that joy isn’t ‘happy’, it is so much deeper. I gave myself completely to his will, right there on the cool stone seat in the chapel. I was his, whatever plan he had for me would be revealed when the timing was right and until then this was my home, and I was safe here. I had time, time to breathe and time to really dive in deep to finding out who this magnificent God is. For now, the only thing on the agenda was a phone call and for the first time I didn’t dread it, there was a new sense of peace in all that I was doing, all the decisions I had made. Standing in the path that God had placed me on, waiting on him for my next steps was the very first time in my life that I wasn’t afraid, it was the very first time I have felt true peace and yes, joy.

 

To be continued…

Part four: what is love?

I can feel the weariness from the day setting in, I had made my first climb that morning at 6:00 that morning, the second one came at 4:00 in the afternoon and then my third of the day just an hour ago, but I hadn’t just come for the company or the beer. I had a phone call to make and I needed to pray first and tonight in the clear dark night the only place I could think of to do that was in the chapel, built back in the 1600’s, tucked safely into the castle wall behind me in the tower. I didn’t move though, not wanting to do something always makes me a great procrastinator and tonight is no exception. On the last night in August, right before I was to fly back to Austria I had a fight with the man who had given me the ring in June. It started as a stupid argument about something I can’t even remember just a few months later but it quickly escalated into a full on screaming match. He spouted all the reasons I was a terrible fiancé, and finally stopped worrying about conflict and threw it right back at him. I even got the courage to give that stupid ring back but he wouldn’t take it, he wouldn’t concede. In the end we agreed to postpone the wedding until we could sort through our issues but we were still engaged and when I got on the plane it was the first time in a month that I felt free again. I knew in the deepest part of my heart that I couldn’t marry him, that I wouldn’t marry him but getting out of it was still an unknown. Things carried on, texts by the hundreds would come in and if I was busy and didn’t respond they got heated, then the phone would ring. Id take to leaving it at home if I knew I was going to be busy so that I wouldn’t be worried about upsetting him. He started to question my feelings about every male friend I had at the castle, and given that there were a lot of males, all of whom I loved deeply, it seemed I was always upsetting him. One night, back in late September we had a girls night out, Id forgotten to remove the phone from my bag and as I sat in the restaraunt I had so many calls from him that everyone started to comment, when I got home and finally returned his calls I was screamed at for over an hour. He just couldn’t seem to grasp that I thought it was rude to be talking to him while I was out with friends. His jealousy and insecurity started to shine through his anger, he started to make me the bad guy, nothing I did was right, nothing I said was good enough, and yet in his mind at least calling off the engagement wasn’t the right call. I remember listening to him subtly tear me down one night, thinking if I am so awful, so unlovable, so ugly and uncouth then why on earth would you want to marry me? None of it made sense and still I couldn’t bring myself to take that ring off my finger and end it. I stick my hand in my pocket and dig out a cigarette, lighting it in the dark spaces of the wall tower. The end of it glows brightly and I just stare at it, both loving it and loathing it. It gives me more time here, if I smoke this then I am avoiding what really needs doing and I smile when I find myself considering smoking the entire pack rather than get up and make that phone call. In October I was sitting in the glasshouse, a small room made entirely of glass windows that is perched on top of the gatehouse below. I was talking to a friend, trying to explain myself, trying to answer her questions about why I have been doing this for so long and I said to her “I am so tired of thinking someone might love me, then finding out that they don’t. Tired of seeing their backs as they leave” and then I whispered “There is a part of me that actually hates him”, and there it happened, the moment of clarity that I hadn’t known I needed. God whispered to me “You have done this to me your entire life, and yet I will never leave you, I will love you always, no matter how many times I see your back leave, I will always stay close, loving you.” And damn, even now as I puff away on this stupid smoke I can’t believe how clear it all became. My whole life I had been searching for love, unconditional love, from a man, when the entire time it was God who was offering it to me, willing me to accept it, hurting every time I rejected him but never hating me, never giving up on me, always there, always waiting, always loving me. That was when I started to change, when things started to shift inside me and I no longer felt like I fit in this place anymore, that was when I knew he had another plan for me, even if I didn’t like it, or want it , or even know what that plan was. I stub out the half smoked cigarette and stand up, both unwilling to move but also needing too. Sometimes I am like a hamster in a wheel whose legs can’t keep up with the speed of the wheel and then has to stop and roll back and forth a few times in order to stop. This is my brain lately, since that day in June it seems. I go back and forth, up and down and yet, just like the hamster I never get anywhere. I move back to the wall and lean against it, remembering that day when I felt for the first time how much God loved me. The day I knew I was actually loveable and I smile because for the first time I also knew that I loved him too, and that I wouldn’t ever turn my back on him again. That night I finally called the engagement off for good, took the ring off and placed it in the drawer of my desk, the details didn’t matter somehow, what mattered was that I was loved and having finally seen what that should look like, this ‘love’ being offered to me wasn’t it. The biggest hurdle had been jumped but looking at the calendar had chills of fear running down my spine. It was October and I was supposed to be leaving for England, my job, my life here was supposed to be over. To be continued…

Part three: Red flags

I walk through the courtyard and up the stairs at the back corner of the wall, towards the old tower lookout. It’s colder up here, the wind is stronger but I am sheltered by the overhang and it’s quiet. I look out over the village below and spot my home on the far side of the valley. I love this place, the mountains, the castle, the snowboarding in the winter and the summer nights full of laughter and warmth. When I had come back from England I had spoken to my boss and told him that I would be leaving my job in Austria to start a new life in England with the man who I planned to marry. I physically cringe every time I think of it, what had I been thinking? I didn’t want to leave this place, I didn’t want to say goodbye to a community who took me in and accepted me so completely. This was my new home, but now, now I was standing before an abyss of unknowns and I felt frozen to the spot not wanting to move and not knowing where to move too. I felt broken and lost and very alone as I stood there, the mountains so huge standing before me, with every peak I was reminded how small I really was in the world. At first, I would notice little yellow flags, like the tiniest sensation that things weren’t quite as they should be. It was the changes in the promises that the man I was planning on spending my life with was making, he had said of course a dog in the house in something I would want, but after we got engaged it changed to ‘no I would never have a dog’. It seemed at the time like something I could talk him into later so I left it alone when it started to become an argument. He bought me a mobile phone so that I he could call me and we could text each other, but then if I forgot to charge it, or if I didn’t pick it up while I was having dinner with friends it became an argument. I put my elbows on the edge of the stone parapet and stretched, again cringing at the thought. I had taken August off to spend the month in England and it was there that I finally allowed myself to really opening and honestly look at the commitment I was about to make. It left me hallow, how do I back out of this was all I could think, we had a venue, we had a dress, a church, he had bought a ring, his parents were so excited, mine were excited. How could I change my mind? It would just be viewed as another ‘Laurie runs from commitment’ moment in my life, no one would understand, they never have. When I was nineteen a really lovely guy from Scotland had wanted to marry me, but I was nineteen and I panicked at the thought of settling down at so young an age. I hated hurting him, I had honestly cared about him but I couldn’t marry him. I started dating someone I knew wouldn’t want to marry me, and that dragged me into a long drawn out pathetic mess that left me, leaves me still as I stand here on this cold November night a sad reflection of the girl who once danced in the rain believing the world was hers. I sit on the old bench behind me, unable now to see the valley but with a whole view of the night sky, it’s so beautiful that it catches my breath, yes, it’s one of the most beautiful places on earth. The cold air isn’t the same here as it is in Toronto where I grew up, there is no humidity so the cold doesn’t seep into your bones, you don’t sit and shiver, you just bundle up and enjoy. I lean back and close my eyes thinking about all the mistakes I had made that led me here. There were so many thousands of little mistakes, so many compromises of myself that chipped away at me until I was soon tiny little broken pieces lying all over Canada, Austria and now England. In August I was told my long hair would look better cut shorter, my clothes would suit me more if I wore ‘these ones’, I would not embarrass myself if I were less ‘Canadian’, if I tried to be a little more British. By the end of August he announced he would never dream of living in Canada, which had been a promise he had made me before the ring, before Paris, before that day in June when everything changed. I remember begging God earlier in August to give me peace about my decision to marry this man but each day my heart grew more and more unsettled, until finally I couldn’t sleep or eat, red flags seemed to pop up daily but all I could thin was 'how am I supposed to end this when so many things had already been planned, and yes, there was a part of me that has to admit that I wanted to be married and I was afraid that if I said no, if I backed out, then this time I would never get another chance. He had corroded my self-esteem by then (already a quite battered from the non-committal guy in Canada) to a place where I honestly believed no one would or could ever really want me. I open my eyes, not being able to help the tears that had formed at that thought, the idea that I might be unlovable hurt to my core, it’s all I had ever really wanted from anyone. To be loved.

To be continued...

(Part 2) Paris in June

The cold beer tastes good as the flavours rush over my tongue, the liquid is bitter and strong, cold and perfect. I stand watching for a while as people talk, or laugh, there is a group of four playing Settlers in the corner and a full table at the back arguing theology in high spirited friendliness. It's like being at a huge family reunion and feeling oddly alone for the first time. Things have changed, and I have known it for months but have been unwilling to actually admit it to myself. Somehow I had changed, I had become a new version of myself and I didn't fit in here any longer. Yes, I knew every single nook and cranny of this beautiful space, every room, every nic in the floor, all the traditions, all the people. This place had been home for much longer than the last three years. It stole my heart when I was a silly nineteen year old girl who believed she could do anything, be anyone, conqure anything, and 7 years later when I returned it had soothed my soul after learning life just didn't work that way. I couldn't just be anyone, conqure anything, do whatever I pleased and get my way whenever I wanted. These walls had stood witness to two me(s), and here I am yet again, merging into a new, older, wiser, somehow different version of myself all over again. I lean back on the 'bar' which is actually just a counter, the beer resting in my hand, the condensation is dripping onto my fingers, the smoke in the air gets thicker as two people huddle in the door light up. It isn't a smoking area really, but that doesn't really stop people, it's the space where freedom is explored, rules broken and life lived. Still standing at the counter I try to figure out what is causing the deep lonliness tonight, here, where so many people are gathered, people I love, people I enjoy. It started in June I realize, things all started to change back in Paris, in June; yes I think to myself, that was when it all began to unravel so to speak. Everything had been so great before that, everything had been so normal before that. I had my life ahead of me before that, I knew where I was, where I was going (or staying as the case may be) and now it's all so different, forever changed. I take another pull from the beer, not moving to join a table, not really wanting to start a conversation, just standing witness to the life I used to feel so fully apart of. I move my damp fingers down my jeans and place the beer back on the counter, then I pull myself up to sit on the bar so I can just sit, part of the throng but also alone, watching, thinking. It still beat sitting alone at home I thought to myself, being alone makes it all so much more real, more painful, more desperate. "The Bible is clear on this, God predesined our lives, our salvation is predistined" The theology argument heats up and catches my attention, the person in the seat beside the speaker turns to him and with exasperation she practically yells "you aren't leaving room for free will in there! There is no way that God would pre-ordain someone to hell!" her eyes are on fire as her Ukrainian accent becomes thicker in her passionate argument. The two start quoting Bible verses at each other, the others sit and either remain quiet, or simply nod in agreement or disagreement depending on where they sat in the argument. It's always been like this, the deep thinking is just as much a part of the community life here as the laughter and love. It's been this way since the sixties when it became a safe place on the western side of the iron curtain to learn theology, and it remains this way today as these two argue in the cellar. While so many things seem to change, it seems that many things remain the same through out time, there really is nothing new under the sun, not even my current circumstances I assume. Change is never comfortable and I once again return to my thoughts I try to think back to that day in June when things changed and my life was turned upside down. The air in Paris in June is fresh, scented lightly with flowers blooming, it's warm breezes flow down the streets and whisper love songs to the lovers walking the lane ways or sitting at sidewalk cafes, the fashionable ladies, the men who look like they belong on magazine covers (and probably actually do). The children playing in parks after a long day at school. It is not like any city I have ever been in before, there is romance there, alive and breathing, thick with passion and promises of love. It sounds silly to me now, it's just a city after all and promises made are not always promises kept. I held the hand of the man beside me as we made our way up the Eiffel Tower, the view quickly coming in sight, all around me I could see the beautiful old buildings that had long ago captured my romantic imagination. We walked to the platform viewing the city from all sides, it was breathtaking. He wasn't acting normally, if I hadn't known better I would have thought he had a sever case of sudden fear of heights so I moved back from the fence a little and asked him if he was okay. He muttered something and took me to a bench close to the middle of the platform, well away from the splendour of the views, we sat and I turned to watch the people coming out, seeing the first moment that they saw the whole of Paris at their feet in their eyes and their smiles. It was a beautiful day to be in love in the city of love I was thinking. I turned back to the man beside me and he looked a little ill, in his hand was a box, and his words though I assume he'd planned something, came out like "so, will you?". I stared at him, this is the moment that most little girls think about their whole lives; finding the man who will promise to love them forever, it should feel different somehow is a thought that flashes through my mind. I should be exstatic, right?. I do love this man, though I haven't known him long, he is offering me what I have been wanting. A family of my own, a place to call home. I smile at him, and whisper just one word. "Yes". The green shade lessens on his face and he opens the ring box and slips the solitaire diamond on my finger, then he leans in and kisses me. The commitment is made. The beer is now starting to lose the crisp coldness that I tend to enjoy so I tip the bottle up and chug the rest down before it has a chance to warm up anymore. Knowing that I wasn't going to find here what I had thought I was looking for I head back up the stairs of the cellar and through the entrance to the courtyard. I stand in the cold for a while staring up at the black night sky, every star perfectly visable. I wish I could think back to Paris and at least have a memory so filled with love and happiness that the rest would feel worth it, but the truth, even then, was that I knew it was wrong. I was making the wrong decision but I had made a commitment and that meant something to me. I also really wanted to be married, I wanted a family and home and this was my way to achieve those goals; right? "Ugh", I think to myself. "You're such an idiot"! We had only been in Paris for the day, we were heading back to where he lived in England where we made all the announcements. I lay in bed staring at the ring on my finger, twisting it round and round and telling myself it would be wonderful, I was just nervous. We planned, set a date, we booked a venue, his mother and sister took me to buy a dress. Then it was time for me to return home to Austria, it was while I was on the train that I started having the worst doubts, the awful thoughts, the fears, the panic that I had made the very worst decision for myself and yet every single time I would talk myself down from it. I allowed everyone's' excitement to fuel my own excitement and I went on as engaged woman planning her wedding. 

To be continued...

The beginning

The climb is hard, not because the mountain is actually really a mountain, it's really more of a quarter of one if you really think about it, but no matter how many times I have started out to make this climb I find myself winded and puffing by the time I reach the final steps that lead to the castle gate. Twice a day I do this, my thigh muscles are strong, my calfs are strong, and yet they still burn with every step. Just at the final turn, where the dirt path turns to stone steps I stop, I tell myself that it's to take a moment to glance down at the beautiful view below me, the small village at dusk, the lights in homes and the surrounding mountains peaked in snow. The truth is more that I need a moment to breathe, to stand and fill my lungs, to ease the burn in my thighs and wipe the glisten from my brow, not quite sweat in the brisk November breeze but damp just the same. My Grandmother once sat a much younger me down and told me that women never sweat, they glisten; and while I don't buy into that at all, I have certainly sweat like a pig doing this walk in the summer, today it seems to fit and so I stand, taking in the valley below me and I fill my lungs with the cool, fresh alpine air. When I have had my fill I turn again to the stone steps before me and make the final ascent to the gates of the old castle. Once, this place was pink, I kid you not. The first time I ever stepped foot on these stones the walls around me were petpo bismal pink, all covered in an ivy that turned the brightest red in the fall. I don't remember hating it, but I remember thinking it an odd colour for an old castle in the middle of the Austrian alps. By the time I left a year later I couldn't imagine it another colour if my life depended on it. When I came back years later those walls were white, and far more asthetically pleasing to the eye but secretly the old pink was missed. On entering those old halls though, you quickly forget the outside wall colour in favour of the creaking wood floors, the deep scent of wood fire smoke that pours from the Kaminzimmer, and the laughter, those halls are almost always filled with laughter. Today, as I step from the wooden stairs leading from the gatehouse to the main courtyard I feel the old ghosts of friends who came and went and I feel a sadness that is now familiar to me when I remember. Things have changed, that is life here in these walls and I always wonder when I will get used to it and yet somehow I never seem to find a way to do it. The sadness lingers there, fond memories yes, but tinted with bittersweet longings for the days gone by. With each new crop of volunteers it becomes harder to open my heart to them, not wanting the inevitable pain that comes when their term is up and they get back on a plane or train to resume their lives, but with every single one I forget somwhere along the way and my heart lets them in, another goodbye always inevitable. The courtyard is getting dark, the air is colder and I see the puffs of air as they vaporize in front of me. There is the distinct smell of a woodfire and I can't help but be transported back years to a summer when I was nineteen and serving champagne to guests who had come for a concert in this very same courtyard. There were people everywhere, all wearing traditional Austrian garb, all laughing and clapping. We had other guests too, they were english speaking guests and they stayed at the back of the courtyard, they were the ones I had come to call friends in the short week conference they were attending. That was before I had learned to protect my heart from the goodbyes, back when every week brought new friends with each new conference. With each break I got I would head over and stand with them watching the muscians and enjoying the long summer night. Just when things were really heating up though it started to rain, not just rain, it poured! The muscians grabbed their instruments and hid under the balconies, guests all dove for whatever cover they could find and the laughter continued. One of the musicians decided to continue and he picked up his instrument and soon the concert was once again in full swing. I remember my friend and I running into the rain and dancing the waltz through the rain. We must have looked so silly, our servicing skirts stuck to our legs, our hair hanging long and loose, dripping and flying behind us as we danced but we didn't care. We had been so happy, so into the moment that we just didn't care about anything else. I stand there, looking at the ghost of that girl who once danced in the rain and I smile at her. Where did she go I wonder to myself? The memories of that long ago summer night are fading into the dark night and I turn to the Hotel side door, pulling the heavy door open to step into it's warmth. I can hear people talking in the Kaminzimmer, the clatter of breakfast dishes being set in the dining room, the quiet chatter of life inside this space. I cross the stone floor, heading to the ancient wooden door across the main entrance. Years ago this was a dirty, cob web filled bat cellar but now it is the heart of the castle in the evening hours. The cellar cafe, the space to sit and chat about it all, to say the goodbyes, to offer new hello's, to be reunited, to talk about how to fix the worlds problems or to just be silly and dance or play games. This was the pub of the castle though it was never once called a pub, it was simply the cellar. I open the door and the cloud of cigarette smoke filled the air around me, I can hear the voices below me, the laughter and the chatter that I knew I would find here, the reason I climbed that quarter mountain long after my work day was through. One can never be lonely here, you only ever had to make your way to the cellar. Like 'Cheers', it's the one place in the world where everyone knows your name, and even if you aren't their favorite person, they care about you. I climb down the wooden steps, smile and greet those at the tables and make my way to the counter to order my Stiegl. I take a sip and let my eyes wander to the people around me. I Take a second sip of the beer, swallowing and then sighing. It may take more than this tonight to fight off the lonliness that surrounds me. 

To be continued...

dots and arrows

The mask in my hand hung from thin overused rubber strings, it had been washed countless times and still it clung onto the original pink tone. I swirl it around on my finger and wonder why my clothes can’t be made of this same material while I stare at the endless line waiting to get into the grocery store. In my mind I weigh out the actual need of the few things on my list and decide that if we want to have anything healthy it will require me standing on my appointed dot. I look at the dot, and then up at the people standing on their dots, all either holding or wearing their masks. Some of them are using their phones to pass the time, others talk to the person in line with them but it’s the others that catch my attention. It’s the woman fifth dot from the front of the line, she wears a blue mask; medical grade, and her hands cling to her purse tightly. Her eyes are cast at the door and in the deep pits of blue I see fear. The person in front of her moves slightly, putting a little less than the required 6 feet between them and the woman with blue frightened eyes steps back automatically, it’s become reflex, and I know that the fear has taken hold, it’s its own virus and I look to see the others who have caught it. There is an older man, he’s bent a little and leans slightly to the left. He has a cane hooked over his arm as if he was told by someone who loves him ‘don’t go out without your cane”; but he’s still too proud to actually use the thing. He is wearing a black mask and it is fogging his glasses, which mask his eyes from me but then he lifts a little bottle of sanitizer from his pocket and squirts it into his hands, rubbing the alcohol into his dry calloused hands. He puts the lid on the small bottle and then lifts his mask just enough to allow the glasses to defog before replacing the mask. It was only a moment before the glasses were once again filling with fog, he had grey eyes, tired grey eyes filled with anxiety and hidden deep in there was a small amount of hopelessness. When his glasses fogged over completely again he started again with the small bottle of sanitizer, squirting it out, rubbing into his hands and tugging at the mask for a little reprieve. It all seemed so monotonous and sad so I turned and watched the cars pass by along the street. The light changed and the orange hand flashed up to signal everyone to stop, they did, but each taking care to not touch, to back up, or move away if the 6 feet wasn’t being observed. At the stoplights there are no dots to tell us where to stand, we are on our own there, on the sidewalk too. We have to guess which way the other person would go and then just dive in and hope for the best. A movement catches my eye and I see that someone has left the store, making room for the next person to go in, I change to the next dot and catch the eye of the man with the grey eyes, I smile but he only nods at me and turns away. I feel the urge to hug this man, to hold him and tell him it’s going to be okay but deep down I know it wouldn’t be welcome, not now, with so many things changed. The security guard points to the next person in line and they step away from their dot and enter the store, like robots we all move forward and I long for something that I can’t put my finger on. The fear that now settles over the faces of those around me is tangible; the air is thick with worries that weren’t there just a few moths ago. I look down at my new dot and notice that the side of the dot is ripped, a sign of age in this new era of masks and dots and rules and bubbles. It’s already old enough to have aged and it leaves a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. When will this end I wonder to myself? When will I see a friend on the street and be able to hug them? Will there ever be a time again when I can see an old man with sad grey eyes and be able to go to him, help him, and have it be welcomed? Slowly the line moves and finally it is my turn to enter the store. I stand while the twenty something guy uses sanitizer on my grocery cart and then he squirts some into my hand and I swipe my hands together to clean any possible germ off me. I push the cart to the first arrow and try to follow the arrows properly while also thinking what I might need for the new few weeks since this is not a thing I want to do on a regular basis. Standing in line for food isn’t something I am used to doing and I find myself smiling under my mask because in that there is something to be grateful for. The arrows get confusing near the check out lines and a woman in line snarls at me when I get too close to her dot, I mutter an apology and quickly move aside trying to get back in the right direction. I see the woman with her blue mask and scared blue eyes as she pays for her items, quickly sanitizing her hands after touching the credit card machine, she picks up her bags and hurries off out the door so that the next person in line and come inside. The old man is standing in front of the frozen dinner isle, he is eating for one, I can tell by the way he grabs the hungry man dinners by the dozen and shoves them into the cart. He is set up for a month of dinners by the time he closes the frozen food section door and then I watch as he wipes the liquid from his little bottle over his hands and quickly defogs his glasses. He catches me watching him and he smiles a guilty little smile and tells me he can’t see with the blasted mask on. I move a little closer, not too close just close enough to be heard over the loud speaker announcing a spill in the milk isle. “I get it’ I tell him to ease his guilt at being caught lifting his mask ‘you’re okay’. His shoulders dip a little and he nods. “I will be’ He announces stoically. He nods again and turns back to his cart before once more looking back at me and telling me to have a good day. I wish him the same and we part ways, him with his hungry man fish steaks and me to the large stacks of frozen pizza’s on sale. The kids do love the frozen pizza and at this stage of the game I am doing my best to make this fun for them. Tonight will be a movie night I decide in the moment and grab a few of the boxes stacked up. I push the cart the wrong way up an empty isle trying to ignore the large arrows yelling at me that I am heading the wrong direction and I find the microwave popcorn. When the list I have is complete and the dots and arrows are becoming too much I make my way to the cashier to pay. I stand on the other side of the a large plexi-glass screen and try to make my eyes smile at her, try to make this seem like any ordinary day despite the fact that she can’t see my smile, can barely hear my hello through my cotton mask and her wall of glass. She seems cheery but tired, everyone is tired it seems and I know that when this day is done it won’t matter how tired I am I will still lie away wishing it was all a nightmare. I pay for the food, bag it all up and then attempt to wash my hands while grabbing all the bags into my arms to walk home. I get stopped at the door by security, not to check my bill but to allow the people coming in to have the distance they require. My arms are already tired and I shift the bags, thank the security guard as he nods for me to take my turn and then I am out on the street again. I pull the mask off and let it fall onto the chain it hangs from when it’s not in use and I allow for the brief but wonderful feeling of that air hitting my face again. I’ve only had to wear masks a few times in my life and they always centered around hospitals and if I am honest I hate them, I feel claustrophobic inside them but I think of the old greyed man and my own parents and I am thankful that we care enough to make them the law to keep the ones we love safe. The street is pretty loud, not with voices, but with the noise of traffic in the city, the sirens of first responders and I realize how much I miss the sounds of kids playing in the parks or shouting to be heard while they pass by with friends. I stand at the lights waiting for the green and I see a woman walking across the other side of the street with two little children, each wearing a mask, each clinging tightly to their mothers hand and glancing about nervously at the cars whizzing by. They are too young to really understand the full scope of this new world that is changing us so quickly, the new rules that we fear and have a hard time understanding ourselves, they are the ones who have lost the most and will be impacted the most emotionally, socially and mentally. What will they l look like in five years when the immediate threat is over and they are left with social anxiety; Will they still fear the touch of a friend? Will we? The light changes and I double check the road before stepping out, I smile at the kids as we cross paths but they don’t see me, I am too tall and they are too small. As I walk down the street I pass a few people sitting on their porches, reading, listening to music, working on the yard. They look up and wave, people who wouldn’t have noticed me pass by before because they would and should be at work. Now they are just passing time, waiting, none of us know what we are waiting for but part of the wait is just for human connection and as I wave and yell out a greeting I know that this is best connection we can hope for right now. I see a man in a park with his dog, he stands and throws a ball and the dog gives chase jumping in the air with his tail wagging and then spinning in circles when he catches his prize and returns to the man who pats his head and speaks words of praise to him, then he sits beside the man and they repeat the process. I see a couple approaching the park, they have a tiny little puppy between them, he is jumping up and down in excitement at the prospect of being outside in the big world. There are a lot of puppies around lately, they are all very cute and I have to admit there is a part of me that wishes I could snuggle each of them but that too is off limits because it means getting too close the people who own them. I do enjoy watching them though and I find myself slowing as I watch the puppy enter the park and run in circles around the larger dog who had been catching balls just seconds before. They chase each other and bark and run around the perimeter of the park together, not understanding a world in which that would be seen as a privilege. We have taken it all for granted I think to myself as I stop by the fence to watch. For years I would hug a friend, offer a hand to a stranger, sit in close to hear a conversation and it was okay, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it and now that it’s gone I notice how much it meant, how much I have taken for granted and I swear to myself right there by that fence that I won’t do that again. When this is over I will make the time for conversations, I will not allow fear to stop me from touching someone in need, I will hug my friends again but even as I continue walking there is a part of me that knows that I will one day break that vow and when things settle again I will forget how precious and special human connections are., I will once again be too busy to see what is right in front of me. That simple reality makes me feel sad and lost again and I wonder when we became so focused on being busy, on producing, on getting ahead that we stopped having time for the basic things like a time to be still, a time to rest, a time to listen and a time to play. I think about the man with grey eyes and I imagine him sitting at home alone with his hungry man dinner and I wonder if he has someone who comes to visit him, if he has neighbors to pass the time with or if there is someone willing to touch his shoulder, hold his hand or hug him. What about the people who don’t have that, what will become of them? There have been moments when I thought the kids would drive me crazy, being stuck home from school they need to be educated and play time and I am the only one around to do it for the best part of the day. I long for the moment that my husband passes through the door so that I can pass the duty to him for a moment of quiet before we all have dinner together and watch a show or movie or play a game. What would all of this look like without those three people in my house to spend the time with? What would it be like if I didn’t get to hug them for weeks on end, if I didn’t have my husband to whisper my worries too in the dark of night? What if I was alone in this? I make a turn onto the street we live and I see the house ahead of me but it isn’t a house in this moment, it’s a sanctuary and I smile as it gets closer and I wonder about the people who live in the homes beside us, are they loved, are they with someone? Do they feel safe in the place they are living or do they fear the person who shares their space? Children who would normally have an escape from abuse may be stuck with no hope of rescue; a spouse suffering an abusive partner may now be lying in pool of forgotten hopes on the floor. I sit on the front steps of my house, grocery bags at my feet and I pray for the people around me; the people who feel forgotten, the hopeless, the lonely, the weary and the afraid. Then I thank God for the things I do have because there is always something we can find in our lives that we have, even if it is just the realization that we have never known something like this before, like lining up for food or being afraid to shift too far off our dot or turn the wrong way in a food isle. I stand up and put the key in the door and fighting kids and a barking dog greet me as I put the bags down and I stop and hug them, because I can. This science fiction world that has been thrown on us is not normal no, the whole situation is surreal and eerie; but at the end of the day there is a lot to be learned, a lot to be thankful for and it will end. Who I am when it ends depends on the choices I make in the moments when I am most afraid or sad or lonely. I could give in to despair, I could cave to the anger and anxiety or I could sit down and enjoy this chance for quiet, this time with the people I do have in my life, this time to reconnect with a God that I have been so busy with life that I have neglected. It’s my choice how to live through this weird time we now find ourselves. I could stand on my dot and stare into the abyss and give up or I can strike a conversation with the person on the dot behind me. I could walk down the street with my head down watching my feet take step after step or I could smile and wave to the people on their porches, I could bemoan trying to teach my kids or I could embrace the chance to spend time with them in a way that I never got when I was a kid, I could worry into the night or I could use that time to rest and thank God for the day we did have. I could wish for what I want or be thankful for what I have. My choices will determine who I am when this nightmare ends. I pray I make the right ones as I put the food in fridge and talk to the kids about what movie night will look like.

noisy silence

Sometimes we find ourselves in a place of stillness and the silence can be deafening. I think the world is finding itself there now. We have so many things that we know need to be done, could be done but if you are like me the noise of the silence is distracting. As a rebellious soul I find it hard to focus on the things I could be doing but and would rather do all the things that I can't do. The truth is though, if I really think about it, I'm not doing anything different from normal aside from seeing friends and taking part in church and school activities with the boys. I miss those things for sure but teaching them here at home has been a form of fun as well. Life is certainly different but there are a lot of things to find joy in if we look. My boys are fighting less, they are learning quickly that they are each others friend, not just a brother and that is something that will follow them for their entire lives. I am able to sit and teach each kid on a one to one basis and as a result I have seen each one grow in confidence and knowledge, about things they are actually interested in. It is fun to hear them giggle with each other as they have mock battles upstairs, or have long political talks with them about things they are hearing and seeing on the news. Yesterday we discussed the Black Lives movement, the why and the reasons although neither boys could understand why it was an issue to begin with (which makes me hopeful for our future). They are the minority in their school and it's a good thing, they fully accept all people, all races, all genders and I love that they don't understand why people treat people differently because of their skin colour or gender or religion and it breaks my heart that I have to tell them that there are people in the world that don't feel the same way. It led us to other conversations, deeper ones about the world and it's brokenness, the pain, and suffering that we will all eventually have to face, most likely multiple times and Kaleb pulled out a story that we read a few nights ago from Aesop's Fables:

The Oak and The Reed

The mighty Oak tree grew by a river. One day a fierce storm knocked the tree down. After the storm ended the Oak tree was amazed to see the river reeds were still standing, and he asked them how this was possible. 
"It is simple" one reed replied. "when the wind came, you were too proud to bend even a little, but I know that I am only a humble reed, so when the wind blew I bend over. That is why I am still here"
And so we learn that it is better to bend than to break.

So as I sit in the noisy silence,  I need to allow my heart to hear the beauty in the daily grind of boredom, I have to see the fun in what we can do and stop looking for things I can't do. I need to be less like an Oak tree, and much more like the river reed.

L

P.S. I was featured as the author spotlight of the month at Word Alive Press this month - check out the blog by following this link! Word Alive Press Blog

How do we hope when fear is the virus?

I find myself in a strange place this week, similar to a rollercoaster I feel hopeful one moment and then frustrated and angry the next. Life just isn't normal, and part of me understands that it will not be normal for a very long time but then another part of me wants to run out in the streets and hug, touch, speak side by side with someone, anyone. I miss my parents, I dread the thought of summer alone in the house with the kids with nothing to do.  I worry about the social impact of this on my kids, my youngest in particular as he's the active extroverted one. I worry about the closed doors that are hiding deep problems of abuse. Kids who have no escape, nowhere to run if things get bad. The women who are even now being kicked, hit, or battered with words, who have no one to turn too, nowhere to hide. I worry about the men and women who are alone, slowing the isolation will creep into their soul and the loneliness will eat at them. I struggle when I hear of people who are ill from non-Covid related diseases but who can't access help because our hospitals are in a holding pattern waiting for a surge that may never happen, or the clinical trials that people count on that have been shut down, the research that has stopped, I worry about all the non-Covid things that are being left to rot because of the fear of Covid. I don't believe in what the US is doing, the protests and callousness that I see, or the silly remarks I have heard that Covid is made up but I wonder, deep down if we are allowing fear to take us too far down a dark path that will be very very hard to come back from. We can't discount everything for the sake of Covid 19. We have to find a way forward that helps and heals, we have to care for those at risk while also caring for the people who aren't. I wish I had the answers, but I know that hope is a huge part of what pulls people through times of crisis and I watch the news and I lose the hope that I was clinging too. When will someone, anyone, start talking about a plan to move forward, a plan that offers hope, a plan that shines a light down the tunnel for us? I see so much fear, and I worry that the fear will guide us, not our heads.

I always try to end a post on a hopeful note... I'm afraid my head isn't in it today. I against my better judgement watched the news this morning and just became frustrated and angry instead. I should have written yesterday when I felt more hopeful. Instead I guess I will ask you to pray, for me and for our leaders, for our friends and for the people who are working to keep this virus contained. We can't kill it, eventually it will have to run it's course and I pray that fear will not block the wisdom needed to make the hard decisions on when we start to move from fear to healing.  That God will lead our leaders in making wise decisions.

Pray too for those who have small businesses, the local shops that are at high risk of losing it all. If you are one, if you know one, please post in the comments the link so that people can shop locally while this continues.

I will start with one sweet little bookstore that I know called Ellaminnow on Queen st east.  Your kids need to read, they need something to do, why not help a local shop while also doing something nice for your kids.  

There is so much to be praying for in these odd times. I will pray for you, please, take a moment  to stop and pray for us.


L

Step out ...

Toronto - Closed

Pandemic week 4 or 5: It has been a long few weeks. I have sat down to write a thousand times and either one of the kids comes to ask a question (usually preceeded by the announcement that they are hungry) or I sit and stare at the blank screen lost in thought and unable to articulate my feelings. I know what I want to say sometimes, but the truth is it all seems to so redundant. No one knows what is happeneing and it's easy to lose yourself in the unknown and just wallow in it. Losing patience is the first thing to go. At first it's so unreal and different that it's almost comical but horribly so. The first week of this insanity I found myself laughing at all the memes and jokes,sharing them on social media and getting a kick out of sharing them. Week two they seemed less humerous. I came back to Toronto from the cottage because Tim and I wanted some normalcy for the boys. We started a schedule, we cleaned the house from top to bottom, I baked, we walked and got outside everyday. Week three I cried. I cried a lot. I was frustrated, I felt hopeless, angry, easily irritated by the guys I love most. (All three of them). I began searching for anything that would be different. Tim has to run an errand? We are in! That sounds exciting! It is humiliating how desperate I have become for any answers as to an end date. It is frustrating how fast I am losing my mind when they extend the date yet again. 

So this is the thing. To live in faith with doubts is to stop, look back at the past victories and then see how God worked, then step out with trust that he will again work, redeem, comfort, show mercy, and most important in times like this... offer hope. 

I wake up every morning with the same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had in the weeks following Joshua's birth. All the days and nights of not knowing when this would end, how it would end, if it would end, all the hours of begging for answers and getting nowhere. The moments when I sat in silence not hearing God's voice. The moments when I realized that I wasn't in control and it nearly drove me out of my mind. 

I have been in this place before, 12 years ago I lived it. So I sit down and I start to think about how God worked, I see his hand over every part of that time in our life. I look across the table now at the kid who sits in front of me doing his home work, the kid I worried so much about and I know that I can step out in trust again on this. I can't hear God speaking but I know from past experience that it means he is here, he's listening, and when the time is right his voice will cover me like a blanket of comfort. That is what I know without doubt because I am not in control and he is, and if he is then the outcome will be okay. It may not be easy, it rarely is, but it will be okay, we won't be alone. If he's in this, which he is, then we can rest in him. We can use this time as a blessed rest, a time of sabbath and put aside the fears, the anxiety, the unknowns. 

So I guess my message today would be for you to take a moment, sit somewhere quiet. Identify the feeling in your gut and remember the last time you felt it, then look back at how God managed and redeemed it. Then, and this is the hard part. Talk to him, tell him how you feel and what you fear, and step out, take his hand and walk on the faith that he has planted under your feet. 

a moment that wouldn't have happened if they had been in school and not in lockdown

Be safe, keep hope.

Laurie

We aren't alone.

When everyday changes and nothing feels secure and no can give you answers it is easy to draw in, to think of yourself and be afraid, panicked even. All these feelings I have been feeling remind me of the weeks I sat in the CCCU waiting room not knowing what was going to happen with Joshua, would he live or die? Would our lives ever be the same again? Would we ever recover from it? Would anything ever be or at least feel normal again? I have had a hard time understanding what I have been feeling the last week and a half, struggling to understand the underlying pain and confusion and lack of control but yesterday I realized it for what it was and for the first time in a week I felt the water level lower to a point that I wasn't feeling like I would drown. This feeling we have, the lack of control, the struggle to understand, the chaos we feel ourselves stuck in and the frustration we feel that there are no answers, no clear end in sight... I have been here before, I have been here and I can attest to that fact that God is here, he's with us, he is in control and this too will be redeemed and this too will have beautiful things happen in the midst of it.

I hate it, I know how frustrating and awful it is. There is nothing more painful than sitting in the fear and unknown and not know what to do to make anything better. We are are watching a virus sweep through the world, stealing our parents and grandparents, mothers, daughter, fathers, sons, friends and neighbours and it is scary. We are sitting in front of the TV or computer watching the news waiting for someone, anyone to give us answers. We are worried about the financial implications of this for the world and for ourselves. We have no answers and we have no control and there 's nothing more human than being worried and anxious about that lack of control. Yet, I know that we will get through this. We will have moments of reprieve, moments of joy and laughter and a lot of tears and anger and frustration. We are after all, human and we will do what is naturally human.  BUT, this is what I learned in the CCCU waiting room. God is not a God of chaos, that isn't what he is about. He restores order, he works to redeem. It is him who is inspiring the beauty you see in the ashes, it's his hand at work in the first responders who are sacrificing to help others, it is his comfort that you see when you are contacted by a friend and loved one just to say hi. He is here, sitting with us, helping us, comforting us and he is even now working to redeem this mess.

I have been struggling to know what to say in a blog post about this pandemic, I have been scared, I have been worried about food shortages, I have been anxious about our finances, I have been worried about my kids who are higher risk, terrified for my parents who are very high risk, worried about Tim who is trying to hold it all together for the church, to keep things going so that the community will have at least one thing that is has some semblance of normalcy. I worry about the boys' educations and health and social lives and just when I feel like I am not going to be able to ever breathe normally again I am reminded of before, the days when I begged the doctors for answers that they didn't have, the time when we were given a crutial decision that could either take Joshua from us or save his life, we didn't know what to do so we asked God to make that call, to make the final decision for us. I believe that is where we are as a world community now, there are no real answers. There are a lot of bandaid fixes, people are doing their best but no one really knows what to do for sure, no one knows when this ends, or how it ends. It's time for us to give it to God. It is time to turn to him and see what he is already doing, time to do what we can for our neighbours, time to lay the anxiety at the cross and pray diligently for the future. It is not easy, the tightness in my gut and shoulders tells me I am still fighting it despite what I am saying and yet I know that sometimes we have to do what isn't natural to us before things really change.

We need to pull ourselves together, work together, not just as neighbours or citizens of the same country, or the same political group, we have to stand side by side with our world neighbours and work together, leading each other through this, loving each other through this.  What comes of this is not just up to God but also us, how we respond, how we help, how we show compassion, love, patience, generosity, hope. It is time to put aside politics, economy, race, religion, and gender and time to step up in love. It's time to stop using social media to denigrate people and instead use it to reach out and speak to those in isolation, time to spread love and not hate, time to protect, not just ourselves and our borders but life in general. Be really PRO LIFE and step up for the people in the world who came before us, who raised us, who took care of us, who taught us, who funded us and who protected us when we couldn't.

I wish I had simple, easy, clear answers for you. Sadly I don't and probably never will. I will continue to be praying for all of us. For you and for your loved ones and I ask you to pray for me and the people that I love. We are in this together and I promise you we are NOT alone. God's here in the worst of it and he cares very very much.

L