let me tell you about a time when i needed strength.

my mom and i had just spent the night in emerge. her stomach had filled up with fluid again and the only known pain relief came in the form of an all night draining process. she reached for my hand when they put the I.V in and i didn't let go until they pulled it out five hours later.

she was drained (literally and figuratively) - we both were - and be it 5:00a.m. when we left, we were more than ready for bed. only my mom didn't have the strength to climb the one - normally very small step - on the front porch, and i didn't have the strength to help her up.

that's what facebook reminded me of today; the time when i didn't have enough strength to help my mom up.

what seemed like an hour later, my mom made it up the front step and found herself falling asleep on the white plastic chair at my sister's front door. you know the kind i'm talking about - the kind you pull up to the campfire when all of your good, comfy chairs are taken. i wanted more than anything for her to be able to fall asleep in her bed, but unfortunately, there were stairs in the way of that, too.

so i sat on the bottom step, put my head against the wall, cried out to God and told him how tired i was and how i wasn't strong enough to 'do this' anymore, and stayed watch until my mom woke up a few hours later. she made it to the couch later that morning, and i laid down on the one beside her.

facebook also reminded me that my Champ of a Mom conquered the 14 stairs required to make it to her bed that night. i tucked her in, kissed her forehead and said goodnight, to which she replied, "goodnight, paula. i hope tomorrow's better."

"i do, too, mom. i do, too", i said as i flicked off her light.

and it was better. tomorrow almost always is. almost. but when it's not, let God be strong for you like He was for me that day (and every day since without her.)

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble" (psalm 46:1)

shame: a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.

ever feel like that? ever feel humiliated or in distress because of a choice (or a series of choices) you made?

any time i feel this way - and i have this week - i go back to the garden.

it's there i picture adam and even frolicking in the most beautiful garden. i picture the colourful trees and flowers, the animals, the peace. i picture how pure their relationship with God must have been and how incredibly fulfilling their relationship with each other must have been. they had everything they needed. everything.

but then entered the serpent.

"did God really say, ‘you must not eat fruit from any tree in the garden’?”

she was certain he did, but once that stupid snake informed her that she would be able to gain knowledge she never had before, she caved in, took a bite of the fruit that looked so aesthetically pleasing, and gave her beloved husband a bite, too.

though conniving, the serpent was right; in doing so, they had gained superior knowledge, but they had also disobeyed. once they realized they were naked and full of shame, they ... hid.

that's what shame does, doesn't it? it makes you want to hide. it causes you to avoid eye contact and people, and at times, if we're not careful, can be known to be the breeding ground for even more dumb choices.

of course, we know that this isn't the end of the story. if we read further (and i encourage you to), you'll see that there's grace and reconciliation and freedom all wrapped up in one person (the greatest story ever told!): Jesus.

but sometimes, just sometimes, we don't get there right away; sometimes, just sometimes, we choose to cover ourselves in fig leaves, hide behind a big ole oak tree and wallow in our sinfulness for a bit.

he pulled his shoe off and propped his injured foot up on the chair in between us.

"are you any good at bandaging wounds?", he said as i reluctantly looked at the puss soaked bandage in front of me.

"i'm not a doctor, *john*, but i'll see what i can do."

i tried to take the bandage off with care but i soon found out that he preferred the 'rip off the band-aid' approach.

it didn't look good. to my dismay, he had a nickel-sized hole in his big toe. i covered that baby in polysporin, bandaids and bandages and recommended that he get some real help as soon as he could. he promised he would do so the very next day as he hobbled his way to the homeless shelter where he planned to spend the night.

what i didn't tell you is, how, as i was, again, very reluctantly playing doctor, he was telling me of his frustration with his current 'housing situation' and how it wasn't fair that he couldn't find a place of his own.

that's the thing, and the very point of this post; under every bandaged foot lies a deeper need & underneath every social justice issue lies a busted, broken, unfair system.

so what do i (we) do with that? i'm not entirely sure, but i will keep bandaging feet until i figure it out.

it's not like people who wrestle with suicidal ideations want to die. though i have never went as far as penning a goodbye letter or planning how i'd follow through with it, i've definitely wrestled with thinking about how freeing it would be to not have to fight this battle anymore.

now don't go calling 911 on me. my older (and very ex) sister did that to me once (without being a part of my life outside of social media) and it pissed me off a great deal. in fact, it was the most humiliating night of my life. maybe, just maybe had i have been suicidal, i would have come to appreciate her 'concern' one day, but i wasn't. in fact, the night the cops busted down my door, i was sitting at home eating kale and tilapia, a meal that no one in their right mind would choose as their last one, and one that someone would only choose to suffer through if they were trying to prolong their life, not end it.

so don't call 911. i am not suicidal; i'm merely trying to glean from my experience and shed light on the 'issue' during a week where people are talking about it more than ever. so, without further ado ...

taking your own life isn't cowardly or selfish.

in a weird way, you are actually thinking of others when you think these thoughts. you feel like a burden to your loved ones and are tricked into believing that they would be better off without you. of course, this isn't true and being left to grieve a loved one is traumatic (and i can imagine even more so when you're left to grieve someone who 'chose' to die. tack a few layers of regret and guilt on there while you're at it and you have yourself quite the lifelong battle yourself.

wanting to take your life isn't a normal response to pain and/or circumstance.

if you're feeling this way, you are loved and brave! i beg you to reach out and tell someone safe. you may need to see a doctor and/or a counsellor (and there is no shame in that!)

and lastly, there is always hope.

knowing what this battle can look like firsthand, i feel extremely sad when i hear that someone took their own life, because, even though the battle is extremely difficult and finding the right help can be scary, costly and exhausting, i cling to hope and believe that if we can just hang on a little bit longer, as hard as it may seem, the darkness will go back to its rightful place. my God, the light will always break through.

of course, this is what it's been like for me each time and this time is no exception. as you would know from reading my previous blogs, i've spent the past few weeks 'wasting' a lot of time sleeping. i mustered up enough energy to scrape myself out of bed when i could, pushed through my 'worst case scenerios' and showed up where i needed to, begged God to take away this thorn in my flesh, cried A LOT, took care of myself by booking a counselling appointment and the like, and i am finally starting to feel better. the cloud has lifted and i am able to breathe again!

so ... to you who are battling your own dark battle at the moment, i see you, have hope for you and believe the light will shine through, and to you, the one (of many) who is grappling with a loved ones death due to suicide, i'm so sorry; i feel for you and see you, too.

"when hard pressed, i cried to the Lord; he brought me into a spacious place" [psalm 118:5]

there have been times where a circumstance has lead me into depression; take the loss of an important job or friendship, or the death of my mom and dad for example. in some ways, these bouts are easier to deal with because you can pinpoint the source and figure out the 'why'. in cases like these, you 'simply' do what you need to do to get through and hope to God that you're able to muster up enough energy to crawl your way out of the suffocating darkness.

but then there are times where you have NO IDEA WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON. you notice a change in your mood and very slowly (and sometimes very rapidly) spiral out of control until you find yourself sleeping the days away. sometimes, that's the only thing you can do to shut your mind off and stop the torment.

the hardest part is, it just doesn't makes sense, so imagine how hard it is to be able to articulate what you're feeling and thinking to others. you can't. (and even if you could, they may think you're crazy, or ungrateful, or not taking care of yourself. or, or, or.)

but the truth is, you, more than anyone else you know, want this exhausting battle to end. you, more than anyone else, want peace of mind and will do anything to get it, so advice isn't necessarily the best way to help someone in a time like this.

but presence is. just having someone sit with you (sometimes in silence, sometimes not) speaks volumes and makes you feel less alone. like i said to my friend the other day, even though you want nothing more than to be alone (shame playing a big factor in this), you need to be around people. presence is healing.

knowing this, i got out of bed today and surrounded myself with people at our staff's spiritual retreat. i spent some time alone by a pond, watched beautiful, bright fish swim about aimlessly (i feel like this at times), did some much needed reflection, had a few great conversations and learned a lot about horses. even related to them believe it or not.

right before we went into the horse pit (not sure what else to call it), my new friends john and gabby informed us of how vulnerable and cautious horses are. being prey, they tend to run away when they feel unsafe, but once trust is earned, they're full of love and affection and being around them is oddly healing.

i couldn't help but draw a parallel between their behaviour and my own as i listened to these new and intriguing horse facts. truth be told, i, too, tend to run away when i feel even a tad bit unsafe and/or sense any hint of rejection. i'm quick to build walls around my heart and put my guard up. leave before someone else does. run away in the name of adventure - you name it - but like i was reminded of today through a big and strong but hesitant animal, although being cautious isn't necessarily a bad thing and guarding your heart (the wellspring of life!) to some degree is important and wise, the cost of being too cautious and/or running away when you're full of fear may be too great. because, well, at the end of the day, your heart may have been hurt in the past, but maybe, just maybe, the people in your life now will play a part in its healing.

for me, depression runs as deep as the veins i used to access to bleed.

you see, i used to cut myself. it started while i was a teenager and ended while i was a teenager.

i have had intense emotions as long as i can remember (too intense if you ask me.) i would be fine one minute and enveloped by a dark cloud the next, and no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't escape them. and oh, did i ever want to escape them.

and so i cut myself. not anywhere noticeable; i was petrified of someone finding out. i didn't want to die, either, so i was very careful as to how deep i cut. but i did it, and the pain i felt with each slit was enough to take the focus off of the indescribable emotional pain i was in. at least, temporarily.

to my horror, my mom clued in one day. mother's intuition i guess. she stood outside my very locked bathroom door and begged me not to hurt myself. i told her that i would stop if she went downstairs so i didn't have to look her in the eye on my way back to my room, which she did, and i haven't done it since. the pain i caused her that day (i can still hear it in her voice) was enough for me to stop hurting myself, too.

and so i banged away on the drum kit my uncle gave me instead (which caused my mom a whole different kind of pain.) any time i was feeling intense emotion, i would go downstairs to my dungeon of a basement and let it all out on the toms. this very drum-kit carried me through some really rough patches.

a few short years later, i went to follow the Lord's call on my life and moved away drum-kit less. to my dismay, these damn emotions followed me, forcing me to explore and exhaust other ways in which i could cope. i tried meds, counselling and exercise. i've cried and journalled and reached out to friends, read the Bible for comfort and prayed for peace. sometimes, some of this stuff worked, and sometimes it didn't. mental illness can't be put in a box, after all. in fact, not much can.

and so here i am again.

everything was 'fine' a few weeks a go; i was getting out of bed every day and functioning well. battled then (and have been battling) what i think to be a mid-life crisis, but i didn't feel like i was suffocating like i do today. when you're depressed, it's hard to breathe, and oh what i would do to be able to breathe.

of course, there are moments where i'm able to find some reprieve. moments where i get invited to a lake for the weekend and get to spend it amidst beautiful creation and safe people or get a chance to share a meal with some new friends.

or times like yesterday where although it took everything in me to make it to work, i was greeted by a good friend who took me away from my desk long enough to listen, hug me and pray with me as i released some of my pain through tears. (i don't know if she will ever know how much that helped me get through another day.)

today hasn't been as successful as yesterday, however. it started it off by me cancelling a few meetings i didn't have the mental capacity for, but since then i have managed to force myself out of bed (albeit at 1:00pm), have a shower and go for a walk to the store to get milk, so i guess i'm not doing too badly after all. with depression, sometimes the smallest victories can seem like a big fat win!

i can't tell you how good it felt to pass that bloody muddy finish line.

the night before, i found myself sizing up the 18 intimidating obstacles that would await me the next day. what if i looked like an idiot, couldn't do it, broke a bone (or two!) - or worse - got frustrated and gave up and made a fool of myself in front of my team?

all legit fears, i'll have you know. but when i got there and met up with my team two minutes before our start time, i felt at ease. facing your fears in the midst of good company will do that to you.

the first few obstacles were easy; we had to make our way through a huge mud pit, crawl our way through the "camo crawl" and jump a small (but not too small) wall (which you can imagine i did ever so graciously), gaining momentum and confidence as each one passed.

but then i hit my first 'real' obstacle: the one they call king kong, and for great reason.

i made it to the top of the first ladder but froze in fear when i saw what stood in between me and the way down: a checkerboard shaped net made of unstable, wobbly ropes. in order to get make it to safety, i was required to cross it in a crablike manner. oh helllllllll no. i took my crablike attitude back down the ladder with me and tapped out.

this is when my mental strength came into play. i told myself that it was okay to opt out of something that terrified me to that degree (stay tuned for a story about when i chose the opposite) and that me being incapable of 'conquering the kong' didn't have to stop or discourage me from completing the course set up for me ahead.

a few obstacles later, those darn wobbly ropes stared me in the face again. i thought about bypassing it, i really did, but then two of my teammates assured me that i could do it and offered to wait for me at the top to coach me on how to make it through. and i did; they were exactly what i needed in order to conquer this specific obstacle (and my fear of it), and for that i am forever grateful.

of course, i helped people get over their hurdles, too. in fact, i very quickly adopted the nickname, "paula, push my ass" (which i soon learned meant to hold it in place, too - sorry, peeps.) when anyone needed an extra push to make it over a wall, i was there. we all were there. and it made a world of difference.

we cheered one another on, held each other's hands as we went down the massive and scary water slide that inevitably slammed us into a pool of thick, dark mud, respected one another's limits and gave each other grace when we couldn't complete something, stood in awe as we watched our teammates challenge themselves to tackle the highest of walls in spiderman fashion (i'm talking to you, karen bott), gave each other key high-fives and hugs, laughed a lot and celebrated our accomplishment as we crossed the finish line together 6km later...with help from our photo bomber, josh lott. (love you , bud!)

i'll have you know that my nearing 40 year old muscles took a beating that day (and the past two), but i had an absolute blast and am already planning to tackle next year's race. of course, i'll be taking the lessons i learned this year with me:

one, no matter how many people have told you that you can accomplish 'anything you put your mind to', we all have our limits and that's okay.

two, by the same token, 'quitting' isn't always a bad thing; mental strength is crucial to overcoming any obstacle and reminding yourself that it's okay (and human!) to 'fail" is crucial, too.

and lastly, like i said after hiking the grand canyon not too long a go, we can accomplish a heck of a lot more (and go a lot further in life) when we do so together. no journey is meant to be traveled alone.

SO ... who's in next year? :)

she stumbled through the subway car asking people for change with a confidence i haven't seen in many having to do the same.

i pulled out the tims card i had in my bag for this very purpose and called her over. she smiled, let out a big "YAY!" and sat down beside me as if she were content with this very small gift. she looked at me, grinned from ear to ear and started speaking to me in french. then english. then spanish.

"you're very bright," i told her. "it's really hard to be able to speak in many languages."

"i'm a writer", she said. "i write about street culture."

she told me her name and told me that i could find her writing on the internet. i promised i'd look her up and read her stuff once i had service again (which i did); she thanked me for the tims' card once again, and before we went our separate ways, she turned around and told me that she would never forget my face.

"i won't forget yours either, shannon", i said before she disappeared. i wondered if any one else would have the chance to see just how brilliant and grateful this lady was despite her appearance. looks can be deceiving, after all.

ten minutes later, i found myself taking part in church of the holy trinity's monthly service to honour all of those who have lost their lives to homelessness and/or drug addiction the past four weeks. it took me all of ten seconds to notice that i was standing on a sidewalk full of names (and well wishes) that were very carefully and thoughtfully written in chalk - their very own 'guest book', if you will. unsurprisingly to me, there were a lot of 'john and jane does'; it seemed fitting that our new friend don approached the mic to recite a poem he had written to remember all of the 'unnamed' people who had passed away on our very own streets.

"i miss you, jane", he said before passing the mic onto someone else. his passionate cry didn't fall on deaf ears. not mine. not my interns. not the countless other people who showed up to remember, either. his cry, in fact, tugged at our hearts.

the next guy spoke of justice and let us all know that he has invited, and will continue to invite, john tory, rob ford and justin trudeau to these monthly gatherings in hopes that they can see the impact our broken system has on this population, meet the people affected by it and give us some answers.

"we want answers", they said.

and you know something? so do i.

i want to know why there are 5,000 people living in our shelter system and/or on the streets or why housing is so unaffordable. i would like to know why food banks are running low on food and why brilliant friends like shannon are pacing the subway begging for spare change.

my students and i continued this conversation for a bit this afternoon. it's one thing to hand out socks and sandwiches and serve at different organizations that do the same (all of which are important), but it's another thing to stand in the gap, be a voice for the voiceless, and fight our broken system head on. truth be told, we're not exactly sure how to do this quite yet, but one thing's for sure: we stand with every jane and john doe, every shannon, and every last one who showed up to mourn, remember, and cry out for justice today.

dear mom and dad,

remember that time you won a trip to vegas at the legion? i couldn't stop thinking about that as i spent a day there last week. i remember how excited you were; you deserved that trip so much.

i hiked the grand canyon last week also. thought of you then, too. i can just picture your very different expressions; mom, you would have been so excited for me and happy to live vicariously through me, and dad, you would have lost sleep until you got word that i hadn't fallen in or been trampled by a mule. you always were a worry wart.

i got my credentials a month a go. missed you something fierce that night. the table was full of people cheering me on; amanda, al and jensen came - so did sharon and cindy - yet i longed for there to be two more chairs. you would have been so proud; i would have hugged you so tightly and thanked you over and over until the lights turned out and we were the last ones to leave. all eyes on you two, the givers of this ever-growing and ever-soaring life.

i'm healthier now. my depression episodes are few and far between and far less intense, i moved to toronto, my friends are incredible, i always have a place mat set for me every holiday and i finally found my place in this world work wise. you would love the organization i work for; they care about me more than any other place has and show me this in so many different ways. i wish you could meet the people i work with and wish more than anything that they could meet you. they'd love you instantly; everyone did.

they say that the grief process gets easier with time, but i don't know that it does. while i don't feel crippled by it like i did during the first few months following your death, the time between hearing your voice gets further and further away, and THAT is what i find the hardest.

i sent you a text once telling you how much i missed you, mom. alliston felt so far away that night. your response? "i'm always with you, paula. just close your eyes"

well, i am closing my eyes a little tighter tonight. miss you both so very much. xoxo

he waved me down during our community dinner, motioning that he needed to talk.

the second i sat down beside him, he burst into tears, 'confessed' that he was drunk, told me he doesn't usually cry, and apologized for both. an apology wasn't necessary for either, i told him.

turns out that his wife is in the hospital, he's afraid of losing her and that he has had 'the week from hell." he talked, i listened, and then he asked me to pray for him - for them - right there at the table. jesus, be near.

a few minutes later, i noticed a friend who looked quite sad. when i sat down beside her, she told me how stressed she was that her son was in the hospital back in her home country, how she is pleading with God to make him better, and asked me to pray for them, too. jesus, be near.

this seemed to be the pattern for the night as a few more people approached me for similar reasons later, too. so much pain. so many unanswered questions.

i'm not exempt from either, of course. in fact, if you recall through a recent facebook post, last time i was in regent park, i was the one who needed some love.

one man in my church noticed that i wasn't okay that night. he gave me a big bear hug (no, seriously, the man is over six feet tall and over 200lbs) and carried on. a few minutes later, though, he came up to me again, looked me in the eye and said, "you're really not okay", and from there, he hugged me again and prayed for me right there in the hallway. i, like the friend i mentioned in the beginning of this blog, cried in his arms (more like his armpit) as he did, and walked away from that interaction feeling relieved, at peace and cared for. jesus, be near. (that's really all there is to pray sometimes, you know?)

a lot of my friends in regent park are stuck in cycles of addiction and poverty, worrying about loved ones who are sick or battling sickness themselves. some of them are dealing with work stress and financial ruin, mental illness and grief - you name it - and so are some of you.

my friends in parkdale would say that life is 'brutiful' - an often frustrating and conflicting combination of brutal and beautiful - and i think they've nailed it; there are so, so, so many things to be thankful for, but hidden behind those things (and at times even covering up some of those things) is a lot of hardship and pain. balancing both can be tricky sometimes, but at the end of the day, as i was reminded about the last two weeks at church, being part of a community can take away the sting a bit.

jesus, be near. to my friends in regent park. to you and to me.

amen.

it was unlike anything i had ever seen before.

below my feet stood a ridiculously deep hole surrounded by an array of colourful rocks and edges. if i looked close enough, i could see several trails with a copious amount of mule poop covering them, and many courageous hikers carefully making their way around it and through the trail my friend and i had chosen to conquer that morning, too.

the hike down was fairly easy outside of a few really slippery slopes, but the way back up was an ... uphill battle.

i learned a lot about myself and life during my hike, though.

i learned that past experiences really do help you build resilience. it wasn't uncommon for me to remind myself along the way that i had conquered two major, strenuous mountains in the past. recounting these specific times reminded me that, although i found this hike extremely difficult at times, i was capable of completing it.

my friend, who is way more fit than i am and could have reached the top in half of the time that we did, was great with me. she was patient, let me take breaks when i needed, made sure i was fueled with snacks, coached me on how much water i was drinking when i got a stomach cramp, reminded me of a more effective way to breathe when i was breathing like puff the magic dragon, and pushed me on the last leg of the trip when the end was in sight. although there wasn't a moment where i didn't think i could do it, having her beside me reminded me of how much further (and faster) we can go in life when we do it together and that no journey is meant to be traveled alone.

sometimes, keeping your eyes on the prize helps, but other times, focusing on the step ahead of you does. at the beginning of the way back up, looking at where we had come from seemed daunting and so far away and would have discouraged me to think about how far we had left to go, so i pulled my hat lower to block my view (and the hot, hot sun) and paid attention to each 'next' step. when i saw the "when mules pass" sign at the bottom of the last hill, however, i redirected my attention to the finish line. there's a time for both, after all.

i gained strength from the messages my friends sent me beforehand, a timely "you got this" from my travelling companion, positive self talk, and the gospel music i blared through my headset when i found myself needing a little more than all of the above.

i reminded myself of where i came from and the importance of enjoying the journey by choosing to look behind and around every time i stopped to catch my breath, and made sure that i took time to celebrate this huge accomplishment once i got to the top. i think there are lessons to be learned in that, too ;)

all in all, i'm very happy i did it; i felt proud of myself, the rim hike we did afterwards felt like a breeze in comparison and the sun set we watched at the end of it brought our beautiful day to a close in the most perfect way.

as a christian, our whole belief system can be summed up by recounting a few very significant events (give or take): the crucifixion of Christ, His resurrection, and His promise to return for us one day, and it's through the reading of scripture and the ways in which the living word transforms our lives that we can hold fast to this truth of these promises.

but sometimes, i think, we forget that there were three days in between the cross and the resurrection; three very, very dark days, in fact.

days filled with sadness and sorrow, doubt and confusion. feelings of abandonment.

but here's the thing - though the disciples (and every one else who believed in Jesus) possessed hope in who he said He was all along, i imagine that they still wrestled through, and had to sit in, all of the other emotions i mentioned above.

so why can't we?

we're quick to tell ourselves to move on; we drink one too many beers or watch hours upon hours of netflix to numb our pain or cover it up by saying things we think we should or things we want people want to hear. we tell our friends to pray harder, to read the bible more, or to move on or snap out of it because of the hope we possess in Christ.

there's a time for this i know; i, for one, am thankful for my friends who shed some much needed perspective on stuff i go through and in doing so, point me back to the truth, but what if, instead, we allowed ourselves (and our friends) to process and feel sometimes? to wail and cry? scream? hide under the covers and sit in our pain for a *little* while?

because, truth be told, there's no escaping difficulty and heartbreak here on this earth and we're doing ourselves an injustice if we try and avoid it or bury it, and like some of the disciples in Jesus' day, just because you allow yourself to feel an array of emotion during the 'in between' doesn't mean you do so without faith or hope.

"there is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens
...a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance."

[ecclesiastes 3:1,4]

i've been on this journey of healing.

a friend of mine came up to me during church recently and told me that he could sense that my greatest desire in life was to have a child of my own. my jaw dropped. i mean, how did he know? i thought i was doing a good job of playing it off like i don't want children (because i'm old and have lost hope more and more with each passing year), but he was right; he is right. i want to have a child of my own. (that's the first time i have been able to say that aloud in years.)

sure, there are different ways of being a mom and i am reminded of this every mother's day (adoption, spiritual motherhood etc), but what i really want is to be able to experience a child growing inside of my womb and feel it move around; what i really desire is to be able to nurture him or her and help them grow, give my baby a strong name (i have a list tucked away just in case) and pick out cute clothes that i don't end up wrapping and bringing with me to someone else's shower.

the thing with desiring something, though, is that we have no way of knowing whether or not it will come to pass, and there's risk in that; there's risk involved in longing for something so deeply and speaking it aloud, and this is no different; admitting that i want to bare a child at the age of 39 (with no prospects of marriage at this point) is scary. hope is scary.

one of the men from my building started talking to me as i crossed the street last night. he remembered me from a few days a go, he said, and i remembered him, too. he told me a bit about himself before handing me some fresh mint that he just bought from the store. i couldn't help but smile. i feel at home here.

my beautiful apartment, which is much closer to work (and everything else), is surrounded by beautiful trees and the sounds of birds chirping. kids play outside long after the street lights come on as their parents sit curbside and chat, making my new neighbourhood seem quite life-giving and full.

my roommates are wonderful; one has offered to pick me up and drop me off on several occasions and the other makes (and shares) delicious food. to my surprise, i woke up to a full out breakfast yesterday; it was nice to be able to sit down at our new kitchen table and share a meal together.

but more than what they do (we are far more than 'what we do'), they are kind, thoughtful and considerate.

work is slower than i would like it to be and somewhat transitional, but my heart beats for youth and i'm thankful that i get to work for the greatest organization on the planet. we're heading to quebec city this week for our national conference and on saturday night, i walk that stage and officially graduate with my credentials. (if only my parents could see me now!)

but here's the thing; though everything is going right and i am doing everything right (taking care of my spiritual life, eating well, exercising, getting fresh air etc), i feel really, really sad.

my go-to isn't to blame God for things; He doesn't owe me anything and i believe He is wholeheartedly sovereign, but i felt my anger geared towards him last week as we approached father's day. stuff surfaced from the past, i missed my dad greatly and felt angry that everyone else in my life has a dad (and/or a mom), not to mention a husband, father-in-law and kids to help lighten the burden a little. (i know that no one can take your grief away, but providing a distraction for the day helps), and some even have all of the above (which i want them to), but i was am angry that lack all. it just doesn't seem ... fair.

maybe this particular sadness has carried me through the week, i don't know. all i know is that while i've been able to function this week and get where i need to be each day (which shows a lot of growth),

i
can't
shake
this
sadness.

i suspect that all of you reading this either have a mom or know someone who does, or have children or know someone who does. by the same token, i think it's fair to say that most of you also know someone who is grieving the loss of their mom or child, a poor relationship with either, or, quite frankly, the inability to have kids in the first place.

the question is, how do we reconcile this on a day like mother's day? do we tip toe around the fact that people are hurting? not hand out roses to the moms in church in fear we are adding salt to someone else's wound? make sure everyone (and their mother) knows how 'blessed' we are to have a proverbs 31 mom? (that's a whole other blog.) plaster social media by telling everyone we know about how great our mom is?

i think the answer is quite simple (though admittedly hard to navigate); i think we need to do what romans 12:15 tells us to do (especially on a day that both are prevalent): "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn"

for me, it looks like this:

tomorrow i will grieve the loss of my beautiful mom while simultaneously rejoicing with my sister as she celebrates her first mother's day as one. i'll wrestle with being barren at age 39 as i (very gratefully) hang out with kids who are very dear to my heart and like family to me, AND i'll go to church (a place i usually avoid every mother's day) to support and celebrate a friend as she preaches.

the truth is, it's easy to celebrate beautiful moms and be happy for those of our friends who have kids; rejoicing is the easy part (unless you're jealous.) mourning with those who mourn, on the other hand, is much harder. it takes time to write, call or show up, and feels yucky, heavy or awkward, and at times, costly. but at the end of the day, there are times when we must learn to balance both.

truth be told, there will be some very selfless women in your life who need to be reminded of how strong, courageous, and appreciated they are tomorrow, but there will be others in your life who need to know that you remember them, too.

happy mother's day, moms! you are the heartbeat of your family. (dads are great, too, but they have their own day.)

i'm moving in 29 days.

the thought of this was daunting at first. do i live alone and risk financial strain (toronto is expensive yo) or live with strangers and risk the possibility of messy relationships and conflict, or unmet expectations on either end? (i mean, i can work on my expectations, but what if they expect too much from me?) the more i worked through the 'what ifs?' and wrestled with the fear of making the wrong decision, the more i felt stuck.

but then the Lord directed me to a certain community and neighbourhood.

so i pursued this option, and everything fell into place. (doesn't it always?)

the result?

two (so far) great roommates, cheaper rent than i pay now, a 20 minute trek to a major subway station downtown, a half an hour walk to my office (which now takes me 2.5-3.0 hours by transit) - and get this - a seven minute walk to a church i plan on plugging into on sundays. (for the record, i am still very much so committed to the church in regent park on saturdays and plan on sticking around.)

one of my biggest prayers in moving was that i would find a church within walking distance (of wherever i ended up) so i could pour into, and be a part of, the church and community i find myself in. looks like my prayer was answered - no more commuting in and out once a week for this one!

on top of all of this, i believe the Lord gave me a verse and prayer for this upcoming season through my soon to be new apartment number, 308:

"give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread" - proverbs 30:8

i don't make much money (very grateful - not complaining) and it's been pretty tight this month, so this passage is especially fitting. call me crazy, and maybe this is because crazy provision has always been a part of my story, but i don't seek after riches or even financial stability. i work hard, do what i can, try and live a generous life, and trust God to take care of the rest, nor do i long for financial poverty (thanks, captain obvious); this prayer serves as a reminder of the importance of living in the 'just enough'; something i find myself constantly wrestling with in our culture because of the field i am in and the populations i work with. (there is nothing wrong with making and having money, by the way - i am just sharing my journey and where i am at with this.)

the truth is, as much as He has taken care of me (usually through the generosity and kindness of others) up until this point, he will do the same moving forward. after all, he is my daily bread, the provider - my provider - of all things. daily.

i've already seen some crazy things happen since making that verse my prayer.

i found a ride (one way) to my work conference/credentialing banquet next month and a roommate to cut the cost in half, my sister offered to pay for my train so i can go and visit her and the baby in just over a week, a friend gave me a gift card to subway (i eat a veggie sub at least three times a week) this afternoon to celebrate my recent credentialing, another friend from college (over a decade ago) emailed me this morning to let me know that he and his wife would like to make sure i have the right pair of running shoes for my upcoming mud hero run (stay tuned for details), and relationally (provision goes beyond finances), i've eaten less meals alone and had more invitations to hang out this week than i have in a long time (and even had to turn one down so i could rest and spend some much needed time alone!)

what do you need this week? better yet, today? don't be afraid to ask the Lord, our Daily Bread, for it. He knows what we need before we ask, yes, but ask Him any ways!

i dare not put myself at the crucifixion scene that day.

i mean, would i still be kicking myself in the butt for falling asleep on jesus when he asked me to keep watch (more than once!) prior to his capture? would i disappear, get up close and personal like the masses or watch from a distance like peter? would i join in the chant to crucify him or be placed on the cross next to him? depends on who i was in the story, i guess, but truth be told, i could have been anyone.

or how about the next day when all was still? would i have mourned with hope knowing that what jesus said was true and that who he said he was was true? or would the silent darkness cloud my belief and make me doubt both?

and how about when the tomb rolled away on the third day? what would i have done then? believe the rumours about the disciples stealing his body? make stuff up in my head to try and make sense of it all, search for concrete proof myself, or rejoice, knowing, again, he did what he said he was going to do?

the answer is, i don't know; i don't know what i would have done then, but i do know what i'll do now. i choose to believe. by golly, this easter, i choose to believe.

the story line makes sense. the evidence points to the gospel's validity. covenants were made and kept on God's end and prophesies were fulfilled; jesus, the long waited messiah came to earth in human form, was born in a manger (what up, christmas!), lived a sin-less life, exemplified what living a life of love and servant-hood should look like, and humbled himself enough to die on a cross for our sins - my sins - before 'sealing the deal' and coming back to life.

sure, we can read this blog (or better yet, the bible) and debate it - we weren't there - but i tell you one thing, He's changed my life! His love keeps me secure and grounded. His teachings motivate me to humble myself (still working on that) and live a selfless life full of love and one worthy of my calling (still working on this, too), and His unconditional love and grace transform me every single day, including, but not limited to, easter.

why, if you ask me, it's the greatest story ever told and i plan on celebrating it in style this weekend! who's with me?

i turned 39 last week. 39. i remember being a teenager and thinking that 39 was ancient, and now i don't. i'm just hitting my prime!

to celebrate, i decided to make a list of things i've learned along the way. my intent was to create 39 of them, but apparently i've only learned 23. still working on some, though.

without further ado...

24. allow for margin in your life. sometimes your bus is late or traffic sucks. (or you desperately need a coffee or bump into someone you know.)

23. find some kids to hang around and let loose. pretend to be a dinosaur. build a sand castle. play.

22. get some fresh air whenever you can.

21. hug your parents.

20. tip well. an extra few bucks here and there won't kill you (and will help someone pay their bills.)

19. hospitality is a gift. invite as many people over as you can, and sit around as many tables as you can.

18. let your friends buy you dinner once in a while. offer to buy theirs.

17. use names while talking to people and look them in the eye.

16. conflict should be approached with the intent to protect the relationship. (your relationship with a spouse, friend, job, whatever.)

15. counting to ten (and more when needed) changes the way you react.

14. find somewhere to volunteer.

13. travel the world and get to know other cultures. try new things and eat new food, listen to stories and see the world through their eyes.

12. don't be reckless with anyone's heart. don't let others be reckless with yours, either. (thanks, baz luhrmann.)

11. remember, the mirrors in a retail store are designed to make you look better than the ones at home. your clothes/appearance shouldn't define you any way.

10. when giving out your number, set boundaries right away. saying something like, "i will reply when i can" alleviates pressure (for you) and expectations (for others.)

9. nap when you can. (plus, you'll get an extra sit-up in.)

8. don't pick a career based on money. find one that makes you feel alive and makes good use of your gifts.

7. scared? do it any way! the scariest things have the greatest rewards.

6. what you see depends solely on what you look for. look for the good in people and the good all around you, and cling to it.

5. you will always find your way; what is for you will not pass you by.

4. people can't read your mind. say what's on it (with love and grace) - still learning this.

3. there is no script to ministry or life. (thanks, kim.) most things don't go as planned. be flexible.

2. celebrate your friends. show up to their weddings, baby showers, ordinations, birthday dinners, you name it.

1. follow Christ. He's the real deal, extremely trustworthy, constant and ever-present.

does anyone else feel an ounce of compassion for the driver responsible for the humboldt bus crash?

now before you get all squirrely on me, i understand that he is responsible for killing 16 and injuring 13 people, and that in itself is beyond tragic, but my heart breaks for him, too. maybe it would have been different had he had been under the influence, or looking down at his phone, or if he decided to deliberately blow through a stop sign due to poor time management. but he didn't do any of those things; he was simply inexperienced and allegedly distracted by the unsecured tarp on the back of his truck instead of noticing the (literal) warning signs. it could have happened to any one of us, and the fact that he has taken full responsibility for his actions and decided to spare the families an exhausting and painful court process because he knows how much pain he has already caused them makes me feel even more sorry for him. though i believe that consequences are necessary in this case (and in most cases), there's gotta be grace.

i would say that i am pretty good (and getting better) at extending grace to others (at least when my emotions die down), but i really suck - and i mean really suck - at extending grace to myself. i am my own worst critic, after all.

anyone with me? any one else lie in bed at night and replay things you said, but shouldn't have? things you didn't do, but should have? hurt that you caused? people you misunderstood or withheld love from due to insecurity?

real talk: i've been wrestling with feelings of shame lately and battling self- hate when it comes to who i am when i'm (mentally) sick. how i act. my resting ______ face (i work with youth; i shall not swear) and my intense emotions.

but as i sit here thinking about jaskirat singh sidhu, the truck driver responsible for that tragic accident almost a year ago, i remember that i deserve grace, too. we all do.

this is what mental illness can look like on any given day.

you're feeling great. happy even. things are going well for you and nothing can stand in your way.

but then, it does.

you start spiraling out of nowhere. sometimes there's a trigger, but sometimes there isn't. all you know is that the darkness has made its way back to you. unwanted yet unavoidable.

i know this because it just happened to me just yesterday.

i had a great weekend. i met a new friend for coffee saturday morning in my favourite city and our conversation was fun and life-giving. i crushed a few exam questions and then made my way to regent park, where i was greeted by some of my favourite people. i had great conversations, hung out with some kids, laughed a lot, and felt like i was 'doing something' meaningful. then i jumped in a friend's van to sleep on her couch.

it seemed that the minute i laid my head down, however, the thoughts started rushing in. thoughts of not belonging or being loved. thoughts that told me that i could vanish and that no one would notice. thoughts that didn't line up with the fact that i was on my friend's couch in a house where i feel the complete opposite, and always have.

eventually, i managed to fall asleep but woke up to the same thought pattern. unwarranted and untrue, sure, i recognize that, but real none-the-less. a little too real for my liking.

i was able to distract myself a bit when a friend and i walked to the store and when i found myself enveloped in a conversation with one of the ladies who comes to our bi-weekly small group, but found myself right back there once i said goodbye to my friends after lunch. like literally the second i stepped away from them i started crying, and i was too ashamed (maybe that's the wrong word?) to turn around when they asked if i wanted a ride. i put my headphones in hope to drown out my thoughts with some music, but they got darker with every step, it seemed.

"you're an inconvenience and burden to those who know you"

"no one loves you. no one wants to be around you; you could vanish and no one would even notice"

and other stuff i don't feel comfortable putting in print.

so i did all i knew how to do. i kept walking. and when that didn't work, i texted a friend, asked her to pray, found a hymn, put it on repeat in hopes to remind myself that "no amount of darkness can stop the light from coming in', and even though i didn't feel it, i couldn't stop my feeble attempt to do what i could to believe it.

i made it home around dinner time, turned my lights out and went to bed. sometimes sleep is the best remedy for an exhausting battle, and thankfully, it seemed to work for me this time.

i woke up to the sun peering through my window and an email from a friend telling me she was praying for me this morning, which turned out to be just enough to help me get out of bed and face the day. i made my way to a coffee shop (where i currently am) and managed to bring myself within two questions away from being done my exam. (i gave myself until tomorrow to finish it and i am right on par.)

that's the thing with mental illness; you never know when it'll hit and you never know when it'll go away, but as another one of my favourite melodies reminds me, when the night is holding onto me, God is holding on.

i remember how burdened i felt when my mom was going through cancer treatment. i was managing a catering company in mississauga at the the time, which meant that i was up at 5:30a.m, at work an hour later and on the GO bus just in time to make the trek to toronto to have dinner (and play crib) with my mom every night after work; a journey that didn't just cost me time, but money, $18 (+ dinner) each day, in fact.

now, i don't say that to boast or to complain - i would do it all over again in a heartbeat - but i remember thinking one day how lovely it would have been if someone a) acknowledged the burden i was carrying and/or b) put $18 in a card with a note that said something like "transit is on me today." maybe that's asking too much, i don't know. i've always struggled with expectations, but none-the-less i vowed to God that i would always do what i could to help a friend in need if they were ever faced with something similar. something more than 'liking a status' or writing 'thoughts and prayers' beneath it.

now don't get me wrong, liking a status and praying for someone is nice - in a (big) way both are letting someone know that you 'see them' - but doing something practical when you can is even better.

consider:

covering hospital parking for a loved one who's 'forced' to visit their sick wife or mom, or taking care of their caffeine for the day. (being a caregiver is exhausting.)

making a meal or two for a family who's grieving, showing up at their door with kleenex in hand or helping them with the daunting task of planning a funeral if you're good at those types of things or have ever had to plan one yourself.

sending a card in the mail or leaving their favourite snack on their desk.

alleviating some of your friend's stress by watching their kids for a few hours or offering to help pick them up after school so that they don't have to be in two places at once.

sending a quick 'thinking about you' text or telling someone what you appreciate about them next time you see them.

truth be told, the possibilities are endless! let's get creative and spread some love!

*disclaimer: i am in no ways perfect at this; i have missed many opportunities in my day and am striving to be better at this myself, but at the end of the day, even though we may not have a lot of time to spare at any given time or any extra money floating around, there's always something we can do to spread some love and lighten the burden of another.

my sister started pushing in the middle of the nurse's shift exchange.

i planned on staying as close to her head as possible, but when the nurse stepped aside to give the other nurse the lowdown, i stepped in.

1-2-3-4-5 - you're doing great - 6-7-8-9- and breathe, i said alongside her best friend, while holding one of her legs.

and again. 1-2-3-4 ...

"you're doing great!" her new nurse said. "i can see his head."

i didn't plan on looking, i really didn't. being a very visual human being, i feared that i'd get 'grossed out' and never be able to unsee what i might see, but things had changed; now that i was one of her coaches, i had to know how she was doing, what was going on and where the the baby was at exiting wise. any good coach knows what type of coaching is needed moment by moment, after all.

i'll spare you the details (you're welcome), but it was one of the most beautiful things i've ever seen; i saw my sister persevere through pain and exhaustion, my brother-in-law support her in the best way possible (one of my favourite parts was seeing them high-five each other at the end), my sister's friend hold her other leg up and celebrate each step along the way, and doctors and nurses living out their passion.

and then i saw them pull my nephew out. LIKE A LITTLE HUMAN CAME OUT OF HER WOMB. an adorable - very slimy - complete with a full head of hair little human. my nephew, jensen joseph martel, to be exact. AND IT WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED.

at the risk of sounding like i'm about to blog about the birds and the bees, i still can't fathom how all of this happens. (in this case) two people loved each other, made love and bam! (although this was a five year wait kind of bam), a baby formed inside of her womb, grew fingers and toes and hair, got enough nourishment to grow bigger, moved and kicked, caused my sister a lot of heartburn and managed to cover his face every ultra sound, and worked his way out of her womb and into this world, moving us all to tears.

i saw nervousness and anticipation in their eyes when they got the call to come in for their induction, but the purest form of love once he came out. i saw deep joy in their eyes, and watched them define teamwork as they bonded with their son, changed his first diaper together, and learned how to swaddle their baby boy with a blanket.

reluctantly, i had to leave the next afternoon, but i did so feeling closer to my sister and her husband, more appreciative of life, and closer to God, the one who knit us together in our mother's wombs like my favourite psalm, psalm 139, says (i've included part of it below.)

amanda, you crushed it. you crushed the last nine months and the 30 hours you spent in the hospital before you started pushing. i am so proud of you and honoured to have been there through it all. you are a great mom and a champion.

al, watching you support my sister and acknowledge her hard work throughout the delivery was a gift to me. you are the perfect person for amanda and a great dad!

jensen joseph, i miss you already, but i know you're in good hands. xo

for you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
i know that full well.
my frame was not hidden from you
when i was made in the secret place,
when i was woven together in the depths of the earth.
your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
how precious to me are your thoughts, God!
how vast is the sum of them!
were i to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.

the morning my dad died at home, a resident of my parent's building came downstairs to tell my mom that the ambulance woke him up. her very gracious response to his irrational complaint still makes me proud. (truth be told, i may have punched him.)

"i'm so sorry, _____", she said. "that must have been so hard for you."

i couldn't help but think of this as i read a copious amount of hate comments spewed at those who called 911 over the most recent amber alert.

now, let it be said that i find the fact that people were pissed enough to call 911 and complain extremely sad (and the outcome, much sadder), but people are people and people are selfish, and if we're honest, we can all put ourselves in the selfish category at times.

i'm there now, actually.

in the next four weeks, i have to look for a place to live, pack and get my room ready for sale, plan for, and host, two back to back teams, get some more fundraising done so i can continue to host more students, study for (and write) an exam (i crushed three questions today) and meet with a panel to discuss it before writing a paper and meeting with an even bigger panel, AND make it to ottawa in time for the birth of my nephew, jensen joseph, when i get the call to do so.

the thing is, although i tend to thrive when i'm busy (i would take this over being bored any day), it feels like a lot. i have to continually remind myself to take one day at a time, to take deep breaths, and allow myself to shut myself off from the world (for the most part) in order get things done.

my friends and family have always been a priority to me. i take pride (maybe that's the wrong word) in my ability to drop things and show up for them, and as a two (the helper) on the enneagram, i find it extremely hard not to; helping people is a part of my identity, in fact. but i have to do what i have to do. we all do.

ps. there are, of course, a handful of people who i would (still) drop (almost) anything for - you know who you are - and when push comes to shove, i still need human connection and a bit of a social life, both of which keep me (arguably) sane.

i gotta say it.

our society has become lazy when it comes to fostering community and nurturing friendship.

we can preach the importance of community and retweet bell let's talk videos and hashtags until we're blue in the face, but what happens when a friend really needs to talk? or when someone we know is struggling, or grieving?

we like a status, send a quick "praying for you" text (which is better than nothing and all we can do at times, i know), or put the ball in our friend's court and assume they'll pick up the phone and call if they 'need to.'

i recognize that some of us don't know what to do or how to help; it is for those of you who fall into that category that i write this blog. (disclaimer: i'm no expert; i fail at this at times, too, but i've learned a few things along the way.)

first, a few don'ts:

don't say "call me if you need anything". while the person who is depressed or grieving may pick up the phone to make a call once in a while, this is highly unlikely. the one in deep pain (especially in regards to grief) shouldn't be in charge of reaching out. pick up the phone. if they want to talk, they'll answer, and if they don't, they know you care.

don't expect a response right away (sometimes, ever). i'm weird in the sense that i will (eventually) reply to every single message i receive, but not everyone has the energy to. either way, the person you send texts/emails/mail to reads all of them, and appreciates your sentiment. being thought about is helpful, but backing it up with action is even more so.

don't assume anything (more in this below.)

secondly, the do's:

let the wounded lead. ask questions. see where they're at. don't assume that they want to talk. they may just need a break from thinking or an excuse to leave their room.

example: my friend adriana was the perfect person to greet me at the airport the day after my mom passed away. she hugged me, asked me how i was in that moment, and then asked me what i felt like doing. in that particular moment, i felt like being normal. we went out for lunch and caught up on life, hung out with her dog, watched suits [staring at harvey spector is healing], and then when i needed to, i processed what happened the morning before and cried. she didn't assume how i was feeling and act accordingly; she asked me how i was feeling, and let me lead.

enter into their pain. we tend to distance ourselves from our loved one's pain because we feel uncomfortable, and/or avoid the elephant in the room because we feel awkward. but here's the thing (and i have to remind myself of this when the tables are turned) - we're called to "rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn" (romans 12:15), and your friend's struggle with grief (or mental illness) isn't about your comfort level, it's about theirs.

and lastly, and maybe even most importantly, be practical.

if a friend's loved one is in the hospital and you have an extra $20, give it to them. hospital parking is disgustingly expensive. so is eating in the cafeteria every day.

pick up the phone. send flowers or a card. make a meal. take them to a movie.
show up.

i mentioned a man name job in one of my most recent blogs. this dude knew pain. he had everything (ten kids, thousands of animals, a ton of servants, and good health), and lost everything just like that. i referred to him as an example of suffering in my last blog, but this time, i want to highlight his friends. we pick up the story in chapter two starting at verse 11:

"when job’s three friends, eliphaz the temanite, bildad the shuhite and zophar the naamathite, (i would totally give them nicknames) heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. when they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, (they entered into his pain) and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. then they sat on the ground with him (they showed up) for seven days and seven nights. no one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was"

but then, in chapters four, eight and eleven, job's friends open their dumb mouths, and, in an attempt to find a solution to his pain (can anyone relate?), they start blaming him and his sin for his loss (which, as you'll notice from reading chapter one, isn't the case at all).

take it from their example, don't try and figure life (or death) out, make excuses as to why something is happening to one of your friends, or feel the need to come up with a solution. though job's friend's fell into that trap the second time, they had it right the first; they showed up, felt his pain, and sat with him in it.

and that's all most of us need when we're struggling, too.

ps. we are not meant to carry our loved one's burdens in their entirety; there are times where professional help is needed and should be encouraged. do so firmly but gently, and (usually) in the form of a question (i.e do you think seeing a counsellor would help you?)

a few weeks a go, 180 youth workers and i gathered downtown toronto for our annual eastern regional retreat. our theme this year? joy =)

our main speaker talked about a tragic day in 1998 when a drunk driver crashed into his family van - taking the life of both of his parents and his two younger sisters - and what his journey to finding joy has looked like ever since.

our second speaker spoke about joy, too (that's what happens when you pick a theme), only she spoke about it from a different place, a place of lament; she didn't survive tragedy over twenty years a go, she's living through it today.

both, however, had the same conclusion; whether you've made it through the thick of it or are right smack dab in the middle of it, joy can be found in christ.

now, let it be said that pain is real and often raw, life is hard and complicated, and choosing joy isn't easy. both speakers have had their share of "whys" and "what ifs", "why mes" and "how long, oh Lords", but they'd be the first to tell you that they've had their share of joy, too, proving that it's possible to find joy in the middle of the night.

for me, volunteering (serving) has been a source of joy (and often a lifesaver), which is one of the many reasons why i have decided to dedicate my life to teaching students the importance of giving back to their own community. taking our eyes off of our own problems, and fixating them on others (for a time), not only helps others, but in turn helps us. love works wonders that way. and joy? joy meets us there.

i can't help but think of one students that came through our program this past year as i type this. we had just got back from serving over 300 people dinner in regent park that night. i asked her how her experience was, to which she replied, "never have i felt so happy in all of my life." (if you asked me, i could point out the exact place we were when she told me that.).

never has she felt so alive in all of her life.

and neither have i.

can i invite you to help me spread joy today by being a part of my team?

you can do so by joining me in prayer, running a marathon on my behalf/holding a fundraiser (bake sale, anyone?), or by copying and pasting the following link in your browser (http://www.paulac.yugta.ca/) and following the instructions you'll find there. (donations are tax receiptable.)

let's spread some joy together!

(*disclaimer - fundraising is (very) uncomfortable, but i love my job (even though it feels like more of a calling) and believe in youth enough to accept it as part of my job and work hard at it despite how humbling and awkward it can be*)

let me tell you a story.

"in the land of Uz there lived a man whose name was job. this man was blameless and upright; he feared God and shunned evil. he had seven sons and three daughters, and he owned seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen and five hundred donkeys, and had a large number of servants. he was the greatest man among all the people of the east" (job 1:1-3)

and then job lost everything. and i mean everything. his animals and servants, his house and kids, and shortly after, his health.

his response? let's look at verse 20:

"naked i came from my mother’s womb,
and naked i will depart.
the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
may the name of the Lord be praised.”

INSANE! i mean the dude just lost everything and yet remained upright, choosing to praise the one who gave him all of his blessings in the first place?! (not your normal response to suffering, is it?!)

a while later, however, his humanness surfaces as he begins to question why he, an upright man of all people, had to suffer. (that's more like it.) he questions God - and God challenges his outlook - basically reminding him that he knows nothing and God knows everything and can be trusted. ouch. (see chapter 38)

job's reflection a few chapters later? "i had only heard about you (God) before, but now i have seen you with my own eyes"; his suffering allowed him to see, and draw closer to, God, and ours can, too.

the bible says that "God is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit" and i can honestly say that i, like job, can attest to this. have i questioned why certain things have happened to me or why 'bad things happen to good people?' absolutely. i think it's normal to. but i can honestly say that i have experienced God's closeness and goodness on a deeper level because i have suffered, not because i haven't.

suffering can also draw you closer to other people.

the recent 'me too' movement is not only powerful because of the fact that courage begets courage, but also because there's a certain empowerment that comes with knowing that you're not alone in your struggle. there's comfort in numbers; sharing what you're going through allows others to either relate and connect to your story or at the very least, (try and) understand it.

i can recall many times where i have felt less alone simply because a friend reached out, picked up a phone, remembered my mom and i on mother's day, made my dad's favourite meal for me on (what would have been) his birthday, listened, took me out for coffee, prayed with me, held me as i cried, you name it.

suffering not only creates, equips, helps develop a deeper appreciation for life and produces perseverance (see previous blog), but it also has the ability to draw you closer to God and others, ensuring us that we don't have to suffer alone.

"we assume life will go a certain way, and then it doesn't...and we find ourselves in a place we never would have imagined on our own. and so it was difficult and unexpected and maybe even tragic - and yet it opened us up and freed us to see things in a whole new way. suffering does that; it hurts, but it also creates."

i've been thinking about the tension between pain and suffering (which often feels like death) and the benefits of it (which can be extremely life-giving) a lot lately as we approach the third anniversary of my mom's death.

trust me when i say that i would do anything (and i mean anything) for the chance to hug my beautiful mom (and dad) once again and it pains me to know that i am unable to. there are days when i wish i never knew what it was like to wrestle with depression (both related and unrelated to the loss of my parents), and days when i wish i didn't feel this unshakeable loneliness that i do as a result, either.

BUT, as i've learned over the years, all of the stuff that i have suffered through in my life has made me a better friend, youth worker, and person, period; because of all of the above, i am able to connect with people on a deeper level; i'm much more compassionate, i'm a better listener and helper and i know what to say (most of the time) and what not to say (also most of the time.) suffering equips.

it can also develop a deeper appreciation for life.

i can honestly say that i'm the happiest, most at peace, and most content that i have ever been in my entire life. my parents gave me the gift of life, but in their death they gave me the greatest gift of all: a desire to live mine to its full.

the key is to be able to find a healthy balance between processing/grieving/feeling, and choosing to get up each day and enjoy my life in the midst of pain and suffering, and i do so with great intention; i let myself process the reasons i feel sad/depressed/stressed at any given time and let myself feel it (our feelings are valid and often point to something deeper), but i also refuse to let them paralyze me and prevent me from living my best life. on these (now few and far between) days, i let myself feel what i need to feel for a short while and then wipe my eyes and keep going. i force myself to get up and do things that bring me life; go for a walk, spend time in chapters, watch a ball game, send an encouraging email or text, hang out with a friend - you name it. suffering produces perseverance.

you may not be able to relate to the grief and pain that comes with losing a parent, suffer with a mental illness, or understand anything that i have mentioned in this blog specifically, but we all know what it's like to suffer in our own way. the question is, will you allow the pain that once paralyzed you to be used to create something good?

whatever it is that you're going through today, don't just suffer; lean in to its benefits.

imagine with me for a minute that you land your dream job. it's everything you could imagine; you get to work with your favourite people group (in my case, youth), there's a teaching element to it (you love to teach), you have a great team surrounding you (actually, the best team), you get to partner with organizations who care about those who are stuck in a cycle of poverty and homelessness ... and the list goes on.

the only clincher? you have to fundraise your salary. yes you read that right - FUNd-raise.

now, it seemed daunting at the beginning - a task i wasn't particular fond of - but as time went on i saw people partner with me (coworkers, old friends and new and even some 'randoms' like a one-time customer at mcdonalds whom i never saw again), my heart began to swell. every single person that has given me money (whether monthly or through a one-time gift) not only has a post-it note on my wall to remind me of their generosity and support, but they are very much so a part of the work i do. in fact, i couldn't do what i do without them.

to date, my account is running low - as in i may not have a job in three months low. i'm not worried, i have the utmost confidence in the fact that i am in the right place (and even more confidence in the Lord's provision and calling on my life), but i know i have some asking to do, starting with this blog.

would you consider being a part of my team by supporting me monthly? (i would need thirty of you to consider donating a very tax receiptable $20/month to stay afloat for this year at 20 hours a week, or the equivalent of $600 more a month.)

what i get: to keep my dream job.

what you get: a tax receipt, the knowledge that your money is being put to good use (investing in youth, partnering with non profits and my work (project serve, youth unlimited) in helping spread love to those on the margins of society, and ... more of me; encouragement cards, coffee (if you live in close enough proximity) and other stuff depending on what you need. (we're a team!)

convinced? great. copy and paste the following link and follow instructions for one time or monthly gifts: www.paulac.yugta.ca (unfortunately it won't let me connect the link here.)

have questions? get at me (through whichever means you clicked this blog.)

neither? i get it and still love you =) (though i do give to a few charities myself, i can't give to all.)

ps. if you're american and want to donate and get a tax receipt, let me know as you have to go through our american partner.

i was scrolling through netflix as most of us do, and came across a documentary by the name of 'Avicii: true stories'. fascinated by his life, i clicked on it and found myself captivated for the next hour and a bit.

here's a kid (he was 21 when he started his music career) who had 'everything'; mad talent, potential, heart, soul, and a lot of money (like the 'he once donated a million dollars to help alleviate hunger' amount of money), yet he suffered with debilitating anxiety.

this is true of many people, and as we've been made aware of over the past few years especially, celebrities aren't exempt from such a battle. take robin williams, anthony bourdain and kate spade for example - it's just as prone to affect those who we think 'possess everything' than it is for you or i to struggle with our mental health.

although i have resonated with many of their stories, i liked this documentary in particular because it didn't just talk about how tim bergling (avicii) tragically took his own life at age 28 by way of a broken wine bottle (SO HEARTBREAKING), but it let us in on his process.

while he was doing what he was made to do (writing and performing music), he felt anxious, and when he wasn't, he - you guessed it - felt anxious. no matter what he did to cope (drinking a few drinks before his show, meeting with a doctor and psychiatrist, changing his diet, exercising etc), he couldn't seem to escape the stress and internal conflict.

now, while i have no desire to take my own life, knowing that someone else understands the inner (and at times, very illogical) conflict that i feel at times (and was able to bravely express it) not only assures me that i'm not alone, but spurs me on to tell my own story knowing that it may help someone else feel less alone in their battle, too.

that's the beauty of bell let's talk day; talking doesn't only (potentially) help the ones who suffer, but it helps others understand.

of course, the same can be said about anything else we face, too:

your marriage is falling apart. (someone else's is, too)

your kids aren't doing well in school and/or hanging around the 'wrong' crowd. (someone else's kids are, too)

you're grieving the loss of a loved one (welcome to the club.)

no matter how hard you try, you can't nip that bad habit in the bud (we're all struggling.)

enter whatever else you're struggling with here (so many have something to add here, too.)

i can't help but wonder if avicii would still be here if he knew that he wasn't alone in his battle. sure, he reached out - that was evident in his documentary, but i'm not convinced that he knew that he wasn't alone in his struggle. (it makes me sad just typing that.)

so ... whether you're struggling today or not, i want you to know (even before bell let's talk day) that you're not alone, i see you, it gets better, and tomorrow needs you. keep fighting.

with love & understanding,

paula

as i'm sure you've noticed, there's a video circulating about a group of youth mocking Omaha elder and Vietnam veteran, nathan phillips, after an anti-abortion rally in washington, and frankly, there are so many things wrong with this picture. (the only right thing with this picture is how well nathan responded.)

that being said, this blog isn't going to touch on how wrong the youth were, how deep our racism roots go, how stupid white supremacy is, or what i think about anti-abortion rally to begin with, but i will say this: this is very much so learnt behaviour.

we all have to take responsibility for our own actions, and these youth are no exception, but we adults/leaders/the government need to take responsibility, too. if there's one thing i have learned while working with youth, it's this: they don't always do what they're told, but they do model what they see, and calling this kid a 'punk' (among other names) isn't acknowledging our part in this, either.

truthfully, i'm at a loss of where to go from here, but i do think the solution lies within each of us; we all have the ability to make a dent in how the world treats one another by checking our own hearts and ridding them of even the slightest degree of prejudice or racism, by doing what we can to model love and acceptance to all, and by peacefully stepping in and defending one another when such actions call for it. the students weren't the only ones at fault here; by staying silent, others participated, too. i should know. i stood by in silence myself once.

i was sitting at a mcdonalds late at night when a belligerent 'homeless' man started yelling at a man who identified as sikh. i wasn't paying too much attention to what was being said, but before i could figure it out, man number two got up and moved tables as mr belligerence made am ignorant statement that still haunts me years later, "go back to your country - you don't belong here!"

i wanted to say something, i really did. but i froze. ashamedly, i was afraid of what this angry man would do to me. i thought about saying something to the young man who moved tables, too, but what could i say? "i heard what he said to you and he's not right. you belong here"? maybe. but i feared that in doing so, i would just make things more awkward for him, so i did something that i regret to this day; i stayed silent.

would i have done something had i had been at this rally? i'm certain i would have, but not because i am braver or better than anyone else, but because i made a vow that day to God and myself that i would never (unintentionally) choose sides by being silent again, because, well, we are choosing sides when we choose to be silent.

i'm not saying you need to jump in front of a bullet, or put yourself in danger (that is for you and i to discern in the moment if it ever comes down to it), but there are ways in which we can stand up for what is right at any given time. stand with the one being mocked and bullied. say something. educate yourself and others, i don't know. all i know is that what happened this weekend is not okay, and although we are quick to point fingers, it isn't just a group of catholic students who are at fault here. a lot of us are.