Thursday, June 21, 2018

my alarm went off at six a.m. this morning, only i didn't need it to; my mind had been racing since four.

"how will i be able to muster up enough energy to function at work?", i thought. "what if i don't deal with things properly or just end up staring blankly into space like i have been doing the past few days?"

i could feel my heart race and my chest tighten with every passing thought.

i stood up and headed for the shower any way. only seconds later, i found myself back under the covers awaiting my snooze button.

i eventually made it to the shower, but once i even thought about putting on mascara, packing a lunch or jumping on the bus (rather small tasks for a normal day), i went back into hiding. next thing you know, i found myself sending a few "i'm not feeling well (which is true mentally) and will be working from home today" emails.

it's 1:00p.m as i type this. i crawled (that's the perfect word for it) out of bed at 11 and wangled to send out the necessary emails since, and hopefully soon, this blog, which i pound out for many reasons.

one, to let you know that you're not alone and that i see you; the one who suffers with anxiety and/or depression. the one who's up with me at 4:00a.m feeling overwhelmed and taking deep breaths. the one who cries after getting off the phone with a coworker who wanted to ask some questions and set you on your credentialing track. i see you.

two, because social media has turned into a highlight reel and i want to free people from the need to look like they have everything together.

and three, because i sure as heck don't.

life can be fun at times, exciting and so full, and truthfully, mine fits into this category more times than not.

but sometimes, i have a hard time getting out of bed and facing the day. sometimes, my pain surfaces and my heart hurts, and i feel really, really alone and anxious.

and so on those days i take a break from work, use some of the lieu time i have saved up, sit in my backyard and write a blog, because, well, i see you, and i want you to be able to see me, too.

Monday, June 18, 2018

i can relate to the turtle. or at least retreat like one. i peak my head out to see if it's safe, and if it is, i stay awhile. if it's not, i go back into my shell and hide.

it's conflicting, actually. i preach about, and long for, community, but it's ... tiring. at least for me, an enneagram two, it is.

i listened to a podcast the other day about this sort of thing, actually, and something stuck out to me: we enneagram twos, "the helpers", feel like no one will love us if we stop "doing things" for them. no one will love me if they i stop encouraging people or making them laugh, for example. but what if i can't? and sometimes, i can't. sometimes, i'm moody AF (thats what the kids say these days). sometimes, i feel sad, angry, anxious, overwhelmed.

the truth is, i hate this side of me, and subconsciously, if i'm not careful, i can project that hate onto other people.

and so back in my shell i go. i lock myself in my room, turn off my phone and hide under the covers until i decide to come out again.

"did you hear so and so died?". back to my bubble.

"paula, i need you to pray for me". back in my shell.

of course, this isn't the norm, thankfully. i'd be happy to listen and pray with you, or make you laugh.

but sometimes, i can't. sometimes, i need to retreat to my room, turn out the light and lie down in peace.

yesterday was one of those days, and today, though i've made my way down to the living room, is, too.

it won't last, though. tomorrow, i have to lead a few dozen american students on an educational street walk through toronto for gateway's men shelter. wednesday, i have small group. thursday and friday i'm in the office with my summer students. saturday, regent park, and sunday, the team arrives from new brunswick and i'm tied up for the week.

truthfully, i feel overwhelmed just typing this out.

but, as i sit here, i am reminded of a story found in exodus 16.

the gist of it? the israelites thought they were going to starve in the desert (fair), but then the Lord said to moses,"i will rain down bread from heaven for you. the people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day" (vs. 4).

let’s pick the story up in verse 13:

"that evening quail came and covered the camp, and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. when the dew was gone, thin flakes like frost on the ground appeared on the desert floor. when the Israelites saw it, they said to each other, “what is it?” for they did not know what it was.

moses said to them, “it is the bread the Lord has given you to eat. this is what the Lord has commanded: ‘everyone is to gather as much as they need. take an omer for each person you have in your tent'”

the Israelites did as they were told; some gathered much, some little. and when they measured it by the omer, the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. everyone had gathered just as much as they needed.

then Moses said to them, “no one is to keep any of it until morning.”

however, some of them paid no attention to moses; they kept part of it until morning, but it was full of maggots and began to smell. and moses was angry with them"
(verses 13-20)

(hopefully you ate dinner before reading this.)

i don't know about you, but i can find myself in this verse.

the Bible would tell us not to worry about tomorrow (so would many wise people) for "tomorrow has enough worry of its own" (how encouraging.)

but there's something to be said about only 'collecting' that which we need for the day ahead, or if you will, trusting God, "Our Daily Bread", for it each and every day.

need strength and energy to lead a street walk? it will meet you in the morning. grace to get you through that meeting? courage to have a tough conversation? guidance to make that important decision? that's waiting for you, too. and i'll choose that over maggots any day.

at least, i'll try to.

Monday, June 11, 2018

the (again, not my) cat swatted at me today.

i had put her on her leash (you read that right) and placed her under her favourite tree. at least, i think it's her favourite tree. it sure is mine.

any ways, i heard her infamous "attack hiss" (which sounds more like fear than bravery), followed by a hiss i wasn't familiar with. i get up, follow her death stare (she needs a stare of death to make up for her pathetic hiss) and notice a very ugly cat under the deck i was sitting on. and i mean ugly; the thing had four different colours of skin fur on its face. can we say H-I-D-E-O-U-S?! and there was no way i was letting my friend's cat get attacked by a hideous one.

so i swopped down to save her life, only to get hissed at myself. AND swatted in the face.

thankfully, she's declawed (hence the leash), but still. i now have four different colour bruises on my right cheek and look like the stalker cat i was trying to save her from in the first place.

all kidding aside, this got me thinking.

trying to rescue people from (insert any issue here) isn't necessarily the best thing for them (or even what they need.)

i picked up a book at chapters the other day titled, "when helping hurts: how to alleviate poverty without hurting the poor and yourself" and i'm excited to dive into it and put this into practice once i finish the last few chapters of "everybody always" by bob goff (very easy, amusing and challenging (in the best way possible) read, by the way.)

hopefully, this book doesn't throw punches.

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

i slept in my mom's bed last night, and, as always, found it very comforting. there are beautiful remnants of her everywhere.

her stuff is still piled in the spare room.

she couldn't take her stuff with her, you know. and neither can you. remember that while you still can, and spend your time investing in what matters the most instead: people and relationships.

there's a sign above her bed that reads "a mother holds her child’s hand for just a short time, but holds their heart forever", and it reminds me of a time where i held her hand, too.

my sister and brother were heading on a much needed vacation, so i made the trek to ottawa to spend a week with my mom while they were away.

everything was amazing until her stomach started filling up with fluid, causing her a great deal of pain. since it had happened before, we knew the drill; we had to make a trip to emerge.

it took the whole night to drain her - 13 lbs to be exact - and i held her hand the whole time. she grabbed it and held it tightly, actually, because, well, moms get scared and need comfort, too.

we were up for 36 hours by the time she was released. we pulled up to my sister's house, and hit our next obstacle: the front step. my mom was too weak to make it to the front door, and i tried everything. encouragement. physical help. strategy. everything. nothing worked. a half an hour later (no joke), i asked her what i could do to help, to which she replied in frustration, "get a new mom".

i held back the tears. she did, too. i didn't want a new mom; i wanted her to be well. and she didn't mean it; she wanted to be well, too.

a few minutes later, remembering the step ladder that i had seen in the kitchen, i mentioned it to her and she lit up. (even as i type this i can remember the hope in her voice.) and you know something? it worked; she made it up the step and inside the door!

knowing that she wouldn't be able to make it up the next three steps required to get into the living room, i brought her a chair. my mother could fall asleep anywhere, and she did. she quickly drifted off - jacket on and all - and i sat on the steps crying out to the Lord for rest and healing for her, and strength for me. i was barely holding on. we were barely holding on.

the next night, she not only made it up the three stairs into the living room, but she conquered the whole flight of stairs between the first and second floor. i tucked her in that night, in the very same bed that i slept in last night, and told her i loved her. "love you too, paula", she said. "i hope tomorrow's better".

i'll never forget that night for as long as i live. it was hard - really hard - but it was also the night i remember the most when i feel like i can't go on and need to remember that i can. because my mom did. and because i did, and still do, without her.

love you, mom. happy you're still with me. not in the way that i wish you could be, but with me none-the-less! xo

Tuesday, June 5, 2018

i found a journal entry i wrote on november 11, 2016 and you're going to want to read it:

"mark my word. one day, i will have a place downtown toronto where youth (and whoever wants to, really), can come stay the week or weekend, learn about homelessness and other social issues in the city, have the opportunity to serve in local soup kitchens and the like, hear real-life stories that break down the pre-conceoved ideas that they (we) have about those on the margins of society and challenge the barriers of judgement that we so easily build around our hearts.

but for now, i will hand out water through 'operation hydration.'

after all, every dream begins with a small step"


little did i know when i wrote this, that i would feel the call to quit my job two months later to pursue this very dream of mine, and now, just under two years later, i am living it out.

may this be an encouragement to you, dear friends.

keep going! small steps matter, hard work pays off and perseverance is (often) rewarding.

Sunday, June 3, 2018

it was a week i will always remember.

leading up to it, i was apprehensive. fully loaded schedules have never been my thing and the fact that i had to spend eight long days with people i barely knew (and a lot that i didn't know at all) scared me.

and yet my biggest prayer going into this was that i would keep my heart open. to God. to others. to what i would learn and in ways in which i knew i needed to grow. thankfully, all of the above were answered, and i left hamilton feeling renewed. healed. more passionate. different. changed.

during one of our activities, lectio divina (a fancy name for studying and contemplating the Word), i found myself reading ephesians 3:14-21, only i couldn't get past the first sentence.

"for this reason, i bow my knees before the Father" (in prayer)

"for what reason?", i thought. a question that forced me to go back a chapter and start there.

in reading the previous verses and chapter (and from knowing about some of his life before this), it was (is) evident that the apostle paul had a burden for the church, a burden that caused him to kneel and pray to the One who gave him his vision and burden in the first place, his Father.

i couldn't (and can't) stop thinking about how powerful these three words are and how crucial it is that i, too, 'fall to my knees in prayer'. after all, i can't - and don't want to - do anything without Him.

or the people that He has intentionally placed in my life, either.

i made a point to make sure that i got to connect with everyone at least once during our week of training and for the most part, i succeeded at this. a lot of the conversations i had with my new friends resonate with my heart and spirit even now and has left me feeling thankful and inspired. there really are really great people out there.

i also made it a point to get to know my own teammates better. our GTA team has eighty-ish people on it, working in different ministries and departments, making it hard for us to connect with one another on a daily basis. getting away with five of them was life-giving and really, really fun.

though they are all wonderful, one friendship in particular was really healing for me.

enter loreli.

i met her in the office not too long ago, and walked away knowing that there was something different about her. i told her this, actually, because, well, i am firm believer in telling people what i see in them/think about them. maybe too much.

any ways. someone tagged her on facebook that week and naturally, i creeped her page. (i see you, fellow creepers). i ended up sending her an email letting know that i creeped her and that i had been impressed with some of the stuff she had written. her response? "please don't just creep me - add me". i knew in that very moment that we would become friends, and now thanks to way too many diet cokes (although i don't know that one can say that about diet coke), a few really life-changing and life-giving heart to hearts, and a ton of deep bellied laughs, we are - and i consider myself very, very lucky.

back to the whole prayer thing.

during one of our talks, i confessed (for lack of a better word) something that i have been struggling with on and off for 15 years now and had recently reared its ugly head. she listened, asked the right questions, and then asked if she could pray with me. we sat on a bench at 11:00 at night where she fought my battle on my behalf, and i got up from that bench feeling less alone in my struggle and empowered to fight it once and for all.

what if that very prayer she prayed in faith freed me of something that i have been bound to off and on for years, i wondered? (please, Lord, let it be so!)

so what did i learn during my week at SI?

one, that prayer is powerful and necessary and that i need to do more of it (which includes listening).

two, that i'm not alone; there are countless people who understand the nature of the 'work that i do' and are just as passionate about theirs.

and three, i consider myself extremely lucky to be able to live such a rich, beautiful life.

thanks, God, for being so safe and trustworthy and for knowing what is truly BEST for this girl. you are the source of all that i am and the keeper of my heart.

thanks, SI peeps, for being interested in my life, spending time with me, asking good questions, sharing YOUR life with ME and allowing me the honour of doing the same to you. we're better together.

and lastly, to my beloved SI leadership team, thank you for every ounce of work you put into last week and all of the investment you made into my life through prayer, conversation and most importantly, by example. i'm forever grateful.