it was the bottom of the ninth and we were down by six. after a two-run shot early in the game, my friend and i were full of hope. she had never been to a losing game, in fact, and those are pretty good odds. i, on the other hand, have been to many losing games, but thankfully, i rarely leave a game early.
next thing you know, a double, followed by a home run, brings us within two with only one out.
two batters later, the smokin hot gurriel jr gets up and hits the ball into the rays' bullpen to tie it up, bringing us to our feet.
if that wasn't electric enough, you'll never guess what happened next. (unless you saw the highlights, of course.) the SMOAKin hot (only not that kind of hot this time) justin smoak steps up to the plate and hits a walk-off home run. LIKE THE GAME WINNING HOME RUN. in the ninth. after being down by six.
i couldn't stop smiling all the way home and as i watched the replay over and over before calling it a night; it was the second most exciting game i have ever been to (my friend bought me playoff tickets once for a do or die game against texas and we won.)
in typical paula fashion, this got me thinking.
how many times have i wanted to quit life in the ninth inning? how many times have you?
you have two strikes against you. the ball is coming in fast. it may even have a mean curve. life throws curve balls, after all.
or maybe you seem to be dropping the ball at work and your colleagues are producing more than you.
or maybe, just maybe, you feel like you're standing in the field alone. your marriage is rocky or your kids aren't doing as well at school as you had hoped, and you're tired and worn out.
whatever your life looks like at the moment, don't give up; you never know when you're going to get the pitch you need to hit it out of the park. just ask the blue jays.
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Monday, September 10, 2018
i can't stop staring at my sister's ultra sound. LIKE THE NEWEST MEMBER OF MY FAMILY IS FORMING IN THERE. my niece or nephew, in fact; a baby who has been knit together in their mother's womb with intentional detail, and in perfect timing.
this unborn baby represents a lot more than a son or daughter or niece or nephew; he or she represents the perseverance of a husband and wife who refused to give up during such a frustrating wait; a long and painful, drawn out wait.
my sister would tell you it's worth it, though. she would even say that it made this whole experience more rich, and her all the more appreciative.
kind of like how i feel about my job.
no one knows my story quite like i do. (and no one knows your story quite like you do, either.)
few know how hard i've worked to get here. the countless hours i spent dreaming, planning and building, and building some more.
how many times i stepped out in faith only to fall on my face.
the times i was overlooked, mistreated, underappreciated or underpaid.
the conflicting emotion i felt time after time, the dumb (really dumb) decisions i made, and how quickly (too quickly) i quit at times, and the times i should have quit and didn't. (quitting isn't always a bad thing, you know.)
the trials and hardship. the wrestling and soul searching. the frustration. the disappointment. the unfulfillment.
but i, like, my sister, am all the more appreciative for what i have now more because of the fact that i had to wait.
i couldn't help but reflect on this as i sat at my desk today, or when i got an email from my supervisor approving my vacation time next month or a text from a leader in montreal confirming that she wants to bring a team here again in a few months, and i'll be thinking about how worth the wait was once again when i greet them at the bus station in march and as i'm doing what i was put on earth to do that week, during the summer, and every day in between.
waiting can suck, i know. sometimes, it's a matter of surrendering our wants and needs and trusting that things will work out the way that we had hoped that they would (and learning to be content if they don't), and other times it means pushing through the overly frustrating and disappointing waiting stage long enough to hold your beautiful newborn or land your dream job.
either way, wait it out; what is for you will not pass you by.
this unborn baby represents a lot more than a son or daughter or niece or nephew; he or she represents the perseverance of a husband and wife who refused to give up during such a frustrating wait; a long and painful, drawn out wait.
my sister would tell you it's worth it, though. she would even say that it made this whole experience more rich, and her all the more appreciative.
kind of like how i feel about my job.
no one knows my story quite like i do. (and no one knows your story quite like you do, either.)
few know how hard i've worked to get here. the countless hours i spent dreaming, planning and building, and building some more.
how many times i stepped out in faith only to fall on my face.
the times i was overlooked, mistreated, underappreciated or underpaid.
the conflicting emotion i felt time after time, the dumb (really dumb) decisions i made, and how quickly (too quickly) i quit at times, and the times i should have quit and didn't. (quitting isn't always a bad thing, you know.)
the trials and hardship. the wrestling and soul searching. the frustration. the disappointment. the unfulfillment.
but i, like, my sister, am all the more appreciative for what i have now more because of the fact that i had to wait.
i couldn't help but reflect on this as i sat at my desk today, or when i got an email from my supervisor approving my vacation time next month or a text from a leader in montreal confirming that she wants to bring a team here again in a few months, and i'll be thinking about how worth the wait was once again when i greet them at the bus station in march and as i'm doing what i was put on earth to do that week, during the summer, and every day in between.
waiting can suck, i know. sometimes, it's a matter of surrendering our wants and needs and trusting that things will work out the way that we had hoped that they would (and learning to be content if they don't), and other times it means pushing through the overly frustrating and disappointing waiting stage long enough to hold your beautiful newborn or land your dream job.
either way, wait it out; what is for you will not pass you by.
Wednesday, September 5, 2018
i can see why that young, vibrant pastor recently took his own life. (a story that i can't get out of my head, by the way.)
outwardly, he was grieving. stressed. scared. his dad passed away years a go (which is hard on its own) and in doing so, left him the huge responsibility of leading his church (pressure.)
given that it was a popular church, pastor 'drew' had multiple stalkers, one of whom showed up at his house in a dangerous manner, forcing him to sell it, and his mom's house, hire security and move to a different community altogether (stressful.)
on top of that, he was a pastor, and only those who are one (or know of one) know the burden that brings in and of itself. leadership of any kind is lonely, but pastoring? people's eyes are on you. some, in form of adoration (which can be stressful in itself). others, in hopes to see you fail.
plus, you're expected to have all of the answers when it comes to God and faith and suffering (and the list goes on), and none of us do.
add a forced sabbatical to the list, and you feel distant from the thing and people you love the most. not to mention bored and purposeless. on top of that, idle time has its way of forcing you to face your pain, which is hard and exhausting.
while the outward stuff contributes to your state of hopelessness, it's the inward stuff that drives people to take their own life. the stuff people cant see. the never ending questions. the chaos. the turmoil.
"i'm too much of a burden; my spouse (family, friends) will be better off without me."
"i'm tired of fighting. i'm never going to get better"
(and that list goes on, too.)
so when i heard about the tragic death of pastor andrew stoecklein, i wasn't surprised. really sad, yes, but not surprised. (weird how you can feel heartbroken over someone you don't know.)
but even more than that, i'm left feeling burdened for those who struggle with a similar feat.
if you're a church goer, do me a favour and encourage your pastor this week (and every week after that.) love him or her well. expect less and pray (for them) more.
and if you're not, encourage anyone you can. spread love, not hate. give more and expect less, too.
because sadly, when it comes down to it, this won't be the last suicide we hear about. regardless of what can be seen on the outside or what our social media accounts say, we're all facing battles and demons that no one else knows anything about.
R.I.P, pastor.
outwardly, he was grieving. stressed. scared. his dad passed away years a go (which is hard on its own) and in doing so, left him the huge responsibility of leading his church (pressure.)
given that it was a popular church, pastor 'drew' had multiple stalkers, one of whom showed up at his house in a dangerous manner, forcing him to sell it, and his mom's house, hire security and move to a different community altogether (stressful.)
on top of that, he was a pastor, and only those who are one (or know of one) know the burden that brings in and of itself. leadership of any kind is lonely, but pastoring? people's eyes are on you. some, in form of adoration (which can be stressful in itself). others, in hopes to see you fail.
plus, you're expected to have all of the answers when it comes to God and faith and suffering (and the list goes on), and none of us do.
add a forced sabbatical to the list, and you feel distant from the thing and people you love the most. not to mention bored and purposeless. on top of that, idle time has its way of forcing you to face your pain, which is hard and exhausting.
while the outward stuff contributes to your state of hopelessness, it's the inward stuff that drives people to take their own life. the stuff people cant see. the never ending questions. the chaos. the turmoil.
"i'm too much of a burden; my spouse (family, friends) will be better off without me."
"i'm tired of fighting. i'm never going to get better"
(and that list goes on, too.)
so when i heard about the tragic death of pastor andrew stoecklein, i wasn't surprised. really sad, yes, but not surprised. (weird how you can feel heartbroken over someone you don't know.)
but even more than that, i'm left feeling burdened for those who struggle with a similar feat.
if you're a church goer, do me a favour and encourage your pastor this week (and every week after that.) love him or her well. expect less and pray (for them) more.
and if you're not, encourage anyone you can. spread love, not hate. give more and expect less, too.
because sadly, when it comes down to it, this won't be the last suicide we hear about. regardless of what can be seen on the outside or what our social media accounts say, we're all facing battles and demons that no one else knows anything about.
R.I.P, pastor.
this blog will have to be short because my burning nikes are about to set fire to my back deck.
just kidding. (see how ridiculous that sounds?)
"i'ma burn shoes i already paid for, put them on my instagram story, throw a hashtag or two on there and stick it to the man!"
people make me laugh, but they also scare me.
as most of you know, kaepernick (whom i love, by the way) made a stand against police brutality and racism by kneeling during the national anthem, a bold move that cost him his career as a football player in the NFL. people had a cow over it then and people are having a cow over it now ever since they found out that nike made him the face of their newest commercial. publicity stunt? maybe. but powerful none the less.
AND PEOPLE ARE BURNING THEIR SHOES AND CUTTING THE SWOOSH OFF OF THEIR SHORTS because of it. (in case you were wondering, all that was going through my head when i typed that is the song 'who wears short shorts?')
can we say i-n--e-f-f-e-c-t-i-v-e?
i get it. there's so much happening in the world and we don't know how to make sense of it, or where and how we can help. kneeling during an anthem seems peaceful enough. telling nike to shove it by way of a flame lets them know where we stand, and retweeting, sharing, liking and blogging lets other people know where we do.
the underlying issue(s) here is (are) a big deal, i know, and not something we should take lightly. but can we please take a few minutes and take a breather first? think before we act? and post? gain some perspective before the whole world sets on fire? pray about and brainstorm effective ways in which we can make a stand alone AND together?
THAT's my challenge to you today. my challenge to us.
just kidding. (see how ridiculous that sounds?)
"i'ma burn shoes i already paid for, put them on my instagram story, throw a hashtag or two on there and stick it to the man!"
people make me laugh, but they also scare me.
as most of you know, kaepernick (whom i love, by the way) made a stand against police brutality and racism by kneeling during the national anthem, a bold move that cost him his career as a football player in the NFL. people had a cow over it then and people are having a cow over it now ever since they found out that nike made him the face of their newest commercial. publicity stunt? maybe. but powerful none the less.
AND PEOPLE ARE BURNING THEIR SHOES AND CUTTING THE SWOOSH OFF OF THEIR SHORTS because of it. (in case you were wondering, all that was going through my head when i typed that is the song 'who wears short shorts?')
can we say i-n--e-f-f-e-c-t-i-v-e?
i get it. there's so much happening in the world and we don't know how to make sense of it, or where and how we can help. kneeling during an anthem seems peaceful enough. telling nike to shove it by way of a flame lets them know where we stand, and retweeting, sharing, liking and blogging lets other people know where we do.
the underlying issue(s) here is (are) a big deal, i know, and not something we should take lightly. but can we please take a few minutes and take a breather first? think before we act? and post? gain some perspective before the whole world sets on fire? pray about and brainstorm effective ways in which we can make a stand alone AND together?
THAT's my challenge to you today. my challenge to us.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
"elijah", God said. "i'm going to need you to separate yourself from all that's familiar and comfortable and go sit by a brook."
of course, i am paraphrasing here, but that's the jist of it; God was asking elijah to leave his comfort zone and sit by the kerith ravine, which, coincidentally, by definition means 'to cut off' or 'to separate', and i feel like God is asking me to do something similar in the season ahead.
ever felt that way? ever felt like God (or life) was asking you to separate yourself from something? your boyfriend or girlfriend? that job? your circle of friends? your community or church?
maybe some of you feel that way right now - fall is a season of transition, after all - and stepping into something usually requires letting go of something else.
but here's the clincher, God will meet you on the other side of the separation, just like he did for elijah.
let's pick the story back up in 1 kings 17 vs 4.
"you will drink from the brook, and i have directed the ravens to supply you with food there." so he did what the Lord had told him. he went to the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan, and stayed there. the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook. (so much cooler than skip the dishes!)
vs 6: "some time later the brook dried up because there had been no rain in the land. then the word of the Lord came to him: “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. i have directed a widow there to supply you with food.”
there are those words again. "i have directed"
i cried tears of relief this past week when i noticed the pattern here.
God asked elijah to leave all that he knew behind, but he took care of him moving forward.
his need? food and water. mine? community.
i've spent the last two years investing in and attending a church, a great church that i believe in and love. i got sick (sicker than i have been in over a decade) and took a sabbatical from it. i believed that is what i needed to do and i was right; it was the healthiest and wisest decision i could have made at the time, and i planned on going back once i started to feel like myself again.
the trips i took this month were really good for me - i started to feel stronger and had every intention of going back. but for some reason, i believe the Lord is stopping me from doing so. He confirmed it through a few people - one of which didn't know me (or anything about my life) - and then through the story i just referred to in this blog a few hours later.
truthfully, it doesn't make any sense. not only does it not line up with one of my biggest desires (to be a part of a church and community), but it goes against everything i've been trying to do and build, and against a pattern in my life that i am desperately trying to break and avoid repeating (running away.)
but ... sometimes he calls you to a brook.
and even though i'm scared i'll fall through the cracks or battle loneliness the rest of my life and never feel a part of a church community again, this is the path i believe i must walk down. and even though i may not understand why He's asking me to walk away from something i need and love or what that looks like for me moving forward, i'm certain that like elijah, He will direct my steps and take care of me, too.
"in their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps" [proverbs 16:9]
of course, i am paraphrasing here, but that's the jist of it; God was asking elijah to leave his comfort zone and sit by the kerith ravine, which, coincidentally, by definition means 'to cut off' or 'to separate', and i feel like God is asking me to do something similar in the season ahead.
ever felt that way? ever felt like God (or life) was asking you to separate yourself from something? your boyfriend or girlfriend? that job? your circle of friends? your community or church?
maybe some of you feel that way right now - fall is a season of transition, after all - and stepping into something usually requires letting go of something else.
but here's the clincher, God will meet you on the other side of the separation, just like he did for elijah.
let's pick the story back up in 1 kings 17 vs 4.
"you will drink from the brook, and i have directed the ravens to supply you with food there." so he did what the Lord had told him. he went to the Kerith Ravine, east of the Jordan, and stayed there. the ravens brought him bread and meat in the morning and bread and meat in the evening, and he drank from the brook. (so much cooler than skip the dishes!)
vs 6: "some time later the brook dried up because there had been no rain in the land. then the word of the Lord came to him: “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. i have directed a widow there to supply you with food.”
there are those words again. "i have directed"
i cried tears of relief this past week when i noticed the pattern here.
God asked elijah to leave all that he knew behind, but he took care of him moving forward.
his need? food and water. mine? community.
i've spent the last two years investing in and attending a church, a great church that i believe in and love. i got sick (sicker than i have been in over a decade) and took a sabbatical from it. i believed that is what i needed to do and i was right; it was the healthiest and wisest decision i could have made at the time, and i planned on going back once i started to feel like myself again.
the trips i took this month were really good for me - i started to feel stronger and had every intention of going back. but for some reason, i believe the Lord is stopping me from doing so. He confirmed it through a few people - one of which didn't know me (or anything about my life) - and then through the story i just referred to in this blog a few hours later.
truthfully, it doesn't make any sense. not only does it not line up with one of my biggest desires (to be a part of a church and community), but it goes against everything i've been trying to do and build, and against a pattern in my life that i am desperately trying to break and avoid repeating (running away.)
but ... sometimes he calls you to a brook.
and even though i'm scared i'll fall through the cracks or battle loneliness the rest of my life and never feel a part of a church community again, this is the path i believe i must walk down. and even though i may not understand why He's asking me to walk away from something i need and love or what that looks like for me moving forward, i'm certain that like elijah, He will direct my steps and take care of me, too.
"in their hearts humans plan their course, but the LORD establishes their steps" [proverbs 16:9]
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