A Personal Gift

Have you ever read, or heard of, the book Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge?

Captivating was recommended to me as a helpful book to read when I was going through a difficult time in my life. I read the book four years ago, and I want to share with you a consequent experience I had relating to the book.

For those of you who haven’t read it, or if you have and need a refresher, Captivating stresses the value of a woman’s heart, the things that a woman needs and thus, the type of relationship she has with God.

I’m going to take you straight to pages 116-118, where Stasi writes about an experience she had:

At this point in the book, the authors are describing a woman’s desire to be romanced. Accordingly, our relationships with God often take that sort of position—God desires to show His love to those He loves, just as a woman would be romanced by her lover.

One day, Stasi’s husband John had experienced God’s personal, intimate love for him while he was on a beach. He had the privilege of watching the rare sight of a beautiful whale blowing water out of its blowhole, and to John, this was a special experience of God’s love for him personally.

After John had told Stasi about what he saw, Stasi asked God for the same thing. She said, “God, I want you to show me a whale, too.” She ended up walking the beach herself, but instead of seeing a whale, she saw a huge expanse of beach covered with starfish—she had never seen anything in nature like it before. She knew that was God’s personal gift to her.

The book goes on to explain that as God loves each of us so much, on a very personal level, we can open our hearts to “hear His whispers and receive His kisses.”

Well, what do you think I did after reading that section? At that time in my life, I desperately needed reassurance from God that He did in fact love me enough to take the time to give me my own gift, and I desperately needed to feel as important to God as these two well-known authors clearly were. I figured, it doesn’t hurt to ask, and if the authors are right, then I should be able to get my own gift from God. Perhaps this was a little selfish and testy of me, but given my state of mind at the time, I am not surprised that I asked God for my own gift.

I don’t remember how many days later, but shortly after reading that section of the book, on a dark, cold Saturday night, I spent my evening grocery shopping (probably the best way to spend a Saturday night, right? Please note my sarcasm here).

When I was driving home and pulled onto my street, my headlights caught some movement. At first, I thought it was a dog, but when I looked again, I realized this animal was way bigger than a dog—it was a buck—a full-grown male deer, complete with a huge set of antlers. I had never seen anything like it before.

I slowly followed it down my street. He was casually galloping along the side of the road until he got to an adjoining cul-de-sac, which he turned down. He didn’t really seem scared; I think he could have run much faster than he did. I kept following him until I watched him make his way up someone’s driveway and past the garage into the backyard. The buck’s antlers reached up to the roof of the garage he ran past.

To see something so majestic, so wonderful and so rare in the middle of a street, running into someone’s backyard was very, very awesome. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Yes, I do live across the street from a ravine; the houses across the street from me, and on that cul-de-sac, back onto a nice ravine where perhaps many deer live. I have not, however, ever seen a deer on my street (apart from this incident) in the five years I’ve lived here. Also, I have never seen a buck before in my life. 

When I have seen deer out in the wild, I’ve only ever seen a group of does (or at least, young deer without antlers). Even hunters who are specifically in a deer-riddled area, watching and waiting for that prize buck with majestic antlers adorning its head may wait for days and never see one, let alone hunt one down. This deer I saw was rare enough of a gem to me that it really impacted me, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was my gift from the One Who loves me so dearly. Now, whenever I see a deer out in the wild, I’m reminded of that fantastic buck and of God’s love for me on a very personal level. That gift was, as Stasi calls it, “an intimate gift from an intimate God.”

Stasi finishes that section with, “He has many for you as well.”

I would never, ever share this story about what God did for me if I wasn’t certain that He would do the same for you. Maybe He already has, many times.

Of course I know that God loves me. I would have believed that even if I had never encountered that buck. I believed it before, and I still believe it. God didn’t need to prove His love for me by providing that gift from nature any more than my friends or family would ever need to prove their love for me by giving me presents—I know love without physical gifts.

Even though we don't need gifts to know love, aren't gifts still fun to receive? Aren't gifts fun to give to the ones we love? Don't actions like the giving/receiving of gifts make relationships sweeter? God feels the same way!

What's more, I believe is that sometimes in life, our hearts may be fragile, our emotions may be unstable or our situations may have placed us in a precarious position. For whatever reason, we may just need to be shown, in our own personal, intimate way, just how much God loves us. We may just need something tangible, in our world, to give us that boost we need to grow strong again—to heal our hearts. Sometimes we need something to hold onto. Please be comforted that God knows what you need and He is willing to give.

If you’ve never done so, I encourage you open your own heart and see what kinds of ways that God can show His own intimate, personal love for you in a beautiful and impactful way. He knows when you will need them and why. As Stasi wrote in Captivating, He has many gifts especially crafted for you, ready and waiting to bestow on you, too. Just ask and be open to receiving them.

The Impact of Remembering

When I was at the grocery store last night, and a very sweet elderly man very carefully pinned a poppy on my coat lapel, I started to think about Remembrance Day. Very quickly, I started reciting “In Flanders Fields” in my mind. I still remember an elementary school teacher very painstakingly (and patiently) teaching us the poem so that we could recite it for a Remembrance Day assembly. I’ve never forgotten the poem, thanks to that teacher.

The whole poem is beautiful and moving, but the lines that jumped out at me last night were:

Take up our quarrel with the foe

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high

If ye break faith with us who die,

We shall not sleep…

[We shall not sleep]

How impactful is that? As a kid, I never truly understood the significance of those lines. I just remember our teacher coaching us to say, "The torch; be yours to hold it high" loudly and with gusto. Now, those somewhat haunting lines to me serve as a commission, a decree or a perhaps even desperate demand to not only remember but also act.

Of course we all know the purpose of Remembrance Day: to remember that many, many, many people have fought for the freedom many of us were born into today. We must remember, lest we forget, and forget at what cost?

The more I pondered Remembrance Day and the above excerpt from John McRae’s poem, however, the more that commission to act impressed itself on me:

All the people who fought for our freedom have done their part; now, the torch is ours to hold high.

In terms of war and freedom, we must remember the past so that we can perpetuate our victories now and into the future, until we are ready to pass the torch to the next generation. We are the now generation; we are the ones responsible now for carrying forward our ancestors’ dreams and successes and fights; we are the ones responsible now for preparing the way for the next generation’s life on this earth. This commission is much broader than just war and freedom, though: this does not just have to apply to politics. What about society, culture, philanthropy, technology and the environment?

What can we do—what are we doing right now—for future generations?

“In Flanders Fields” is certainly a strong and passionate decree for the people of today to remember the past in order to impact the future.

Change

How do you feel about change? Do you welcome it, or do you resist it?

Do you rearrange your living room every few months, or has it stayed the same for years? How many different hairstyles or hair colours have you had in the last five years? Would you be happy working for the same company until you retire, or do you feel the itch to do something new every so often?

The more I think about “change,” the more I realize how complex a word “change” really is. There is, after all, positive and negative change, major and minor change, permanent and temporary change, and several other types and variations in between.

There are two aspects of change that intrigue me the most, and the first is the way it makes me feel. When something changes, it feels foreign, different and far from ordinary. It causes me to feel different from my usual self—like I’ve distanced my mind from my actions, or my perspective from my body, or something like that. When things change, sometimes I don’t feel like “me”; psychological gravity has a lesser effect on me; I don’t feel quite as grounded as usual.

Here’s an example: Joel and I have put our house up for sale. That simple action will produce so many changes that to comprehend them all at once is overwhelming. Some of these changes have already made me feel a little “different” just being at home. Other changes I know are imminent, and I’m a little nervous about how they will make me feel when they happen.

Our house feels different because I’ve staged it to sell by removing all personal effects such as knick knacks and framed photos. Clutter now lives in cupboards, and our dog now temporarily lives at my in-laws.

At some point in the near future, we will be living in a different house.

At first, I probably won’t feel at “home” there. The layout will be different, and our things will be in different places.

I will be sleeping in a different room, and showering in a different bathroom.

The house will have its own different smell and will produce different “house sounds” like certain creaks when you walk across certain sections of floor.

I will be driving a new route to all the places I go; some places will be closer, and others will be further away.

All the nuances of living in a certain house will be completely changed; all the little details that I don’t ever notice will become extremely noticeable because of their difference from my norm.

So much of myself is entwined in my home, for “home is where the heart is.” I will be uprooting my heart to plant it elsewhere. Of course I will be taking the memories of the years I spent in our house with me wherever I go, but they will always play themselves out in my mind in this house. Moreover, I will be entrusting my home of five years to another family, hoping and praying that they are able to make this a real home for themselves, enjoying and appreciating and loving it like I have.

I like the idea of change, especially if I know it’s ultimately for the better. Change can be refreshing, but adjusting can be clumsy and challenging. The initial period of “newness” can be awkward, making you feel as though you’re in a different country instead of safe in your familiar homeland.

Change feels strange.

When something changes, everything feels strange, but thankfully, that feeling only exists for a little while. Familiarity slowly overcomes foreignness, and eventually, to move away from that newly-found familharity would denote another change.

This brings me to the second aspect of change that baffles me: Sometimes I wonder at the capacity of human beings to adjust and adapt to the countless changes of a lifetime. As our bodies grow and eventually start to age, we are continuously met with changes and are faced with decisions. Our relationships grow and develop, and life happens, and we are met with more changes that feel strange at first. We live in different houses, experience different financial situations, work at different jobs, become part of different communities of people, are blessed with life and suffer death. Isn’t it amazing that for the most part, we are able to take change and transform it into familiarity? Sure, some adjustments take more time and effort than others, and some we may never get used to, but generally speaking, we are resilient creations that can eventually get used to situations that have changed—and maybe even get used to “change” itself.

Do we grow accustomed to difference because it’s the only way to survive (and humans were created with a will to survive)? In other words, do we adjust to change because we have a survival instinct? What about positive change? We still have to go through an adjustment period even when we experience a change for the good, right? So regardless of the type of change, generally speaking, we adapt, adjust, endure a period of awkwardness and then carry on—move on—continue on through life, eventually getting used to the new state we’re in? Take all of those questions and throw in the fact that as our environment and circumstances change around us, we ourselves also change, compounding the effects of difference in our lives! With all of this change, how do we remain stable and balanced? It's a wonder, isn't it?

I wonder if humans are able to adapt so well because of the fact that there is something in this dynamic universe that always promises to remain the same: God, His promises and His infinite love for His adaptable creations. The more I change and adapt to changes, the more I realize how solid and unchanging He is; no matter how much life changes around me, I have a constant and unchanging God at the center, Who is familiarity, Who is home and Who is light, even when nothing else is.

Friday

I'm sitting here, and it's Friday at 2:30, and by now I usually have my weekly blog post written and sometimes even posted, but for some reason I just haven't come up with a noteworthy idea or topic this week.

This week, however, I feel like maybe instead of delving into something philosophical or psychological or motivational or inspirational, I am just going to tell you a bit about what has made me happy over the past couple days.

• Watching Boardwalk Empire with Joel. He got really into this show about a month ago, and was halfway through the first season when he finally thought that there actually was a possibility that I might like the show. I started watching, and I loved it, and he caught me up on what I missed, and it truly is an interesting show (of course it is; Martin Scorsese is one of the show's executive producers). Somehow, though, whenever Steve Buscemi's character walks into a room and opens his mouth, I can't help but think about the homeless guy he plays in Mr. Deeds who loves pizza with Oreo cookies and gummy worms on it. I am still trying to work on getting past that.
• Watching Emmett constantly grow. Last night, I went to a Norwex party at my aunt's house with Emmett, and he kept walking up to my cousin's daughters (he really liked them), putting his head down shyly and awkwardly looping his arms around, and I wondered at how someone so young (he's a year and a half) seems to inherently know when to be bashful and how to show it. Sometimes I wonder how much he learns from observing others and how much he just does instinctively (yes, that ongoing nature/nurture questions is a doozy).
• Cleaning my house (finally) today. All week I had either no time or no motivation to clean my house, and I guess I was in a kind of disconnected "I-don't-care" mood, so I just cast resentful glares at the dust collecting on my fridge and water spots spreading across my bathroom counter and the dog hair on the floor, and then pretended they didn't exist. I don't know if it was the Norwex party (even though I don't have any Norwex stuff yet), or if I just started to get in a cleaning mood today, or if it's because my sister and brother are coming over tonight, but I went off on a cleaning rampage today--you know, not the typical, standard weekly cleaning, but the super-charged, intensive cleaning. My house is now making me feel happy. There are few things I love more than existing in a clean and tidy house. It is a thing of beauty.
• Chatting with friends and family. You know you have amazing friends and family when your friends start to feel like family and your family starts to feel like friends. When does that happen? How does that happen? It takes some extremely wonderful people and considerable quality time to build such strong and rewarding relationships; that is what makes them so amazing. When I feel tired or a little melancholy, nothing cheers me up and makes me feel really happy than a great conversation with someone--particularly a friend or family member.
• Eating. I'm not kidding when I say that for the past week or two, I have been having food dreams every single night. I'm always eating or making food or watching someone else make food or talking about food. I love to even just think about food. After weeks and weeks of hating the sight of food and dreading opening the fridge, I am finally relishing the thought of eating. I'm glad that when I feel this way, my family can benefit because I start to put more thought into what we eat, and so I've been making some really delicious meals now. (But what am I going to make tonight???)
• The anticipation of Christmas. I love Christmas. Now that the weather is getting colder, I'm starting to sense those little Christmasy, wintery nuances here and there that make me feel at home: the smell of the furnace coming on, the feeling of wearing a thick sweater, breaking out the boots, burning fall- and winter-scented candles, making applesauce (I often do just because it makes my kitchen smell so good), baking (or eating what other people have baked for me) and waking up very warm but for my nose, which is usually cold. 

I Never Knew That!

As my adult years continue, I am continually amazed at how many things I keep learning.

In one respect, "the more you know, the more you realize you don't know" becomes more and more true and relevant. You learn as you live. You grow as you experience. Giant values and concepts become more understandable. I write about those kinds of things a lot.

Today, however, I'm thinking more about little things like useless facts, the pronunciation or definition of certain words, and the reason why something is the way it is.

Every couple of weeks or so, I find myself exclaiming, "I never knew that!" Every couple of weeks or so, I learn something that I never knew.

For example, less than ten years ago, I found out that Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh is actually male. For my whole life, I had thought Rabbit was a girl. He was always cooking and cleaning, and he kind of had a high-ish voice. Then one day I saw a picture of Rabbit wearing a bow tie, and my whole world came undone. I couldn't believe that for over 20 years, I was wrong about Rabbit's gender. Life-altering? Well, not really, but this realization was still pretty shocking to me.

Here's another example: I've always been a reader: if you've been reading my blog, you can probably tell. Just look at my Books, Books, Books post. Anyway, there are many words that you read in books that you may never hear anyone say, or at least, never pay attention to anyone saying it, or even, always think that everyone else was wrong pronouncing it differently. Consequently, I have thought that many words were pronounced a certain way, when it was me that actually turned out to be wrong. I had always thought that "basil" had a short "a," that "cantaloupe" was pronounced "cantaloop" (I still say it that way because it's more fun, and I also partially have my mother to blame for this one), and that "barrage" was pronounced "bear-idj." Then one day, the adult "bookworm" says a word completely wrong and becomes the laughingstock of the group (that's OK; I'm over it).

I started learning to drive when I was 16, but a few months ago when I went for an oil change, one of the guys asked me to pop the hood and I had to really think about it and look around before I could find the latch! How could I not automatically know that? I sure felt like a doofus, but seriously, I don't remember popping my hood before, or maybe I've only done it once and didn't remember where it was. This situation seems impossible, but guess what? It apparently is possible to have been driving for almost 15 years and still be uncertain about how to pop the hood of your car.

Isn't it amazing that we can go through so many years of our lives without knowing certain little things? Isn't it ironic that we can spend 4+ years of our lives completing post-secondary education and still somehow never hear anyone say the word "lapel" during that time (thus assuming the "a" is long)? Isn't it incredible that we know why deciduous trees' leaves change colour and then fall off every autumn, but we may not know if ornamental pepper plants' peppers are edible? We can write essays on the objectification of women in today's magazines, or we may write policies and procedures for the companies we work for, but maybe we can't quite remember for certain, now that we think of it, how exactly frogs fertilize the female's eggs and how long before they become full-grown frogs. I can bake some pretty amazing oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and make a mean chili, but I sometimes still have to think about and perhaps even look it up to know for sure which nuts or fruits or vegetables or legumes grow from vines, little plants, shrubs or trees.

Not only am I constantly discovering little facts all the time but also there are things I still don't know or haven't experienced. I have only seen a small part of one of the Star Wars movies. I have never seen The Godfather. I have ridden a camel, but never a horse. I've never been to Florida. You might be thinking incredulously, "Seriously? You've NEVER seen Star Wars?"

Maybe all the things I never knew until recently, or still have never experienced, are things you feel like you've always known, or have done a million times (like gone to Florida every year during March break). Or, maybe there are things you've never known that are "old news" to me. Maybe "useless facts" are actually "useless" to you, so you don't really care to know why the wind allows you to see the bottoms of trees' leaves just before it rains.

Why is that?

I always assumed that in our learning lives, we start with certain basics and move on to more complex knowledge...in other words, certain information and facts are like prerequisites to other information and facts. Like if you've been driving for 15 years, you know how to pop the hood of your car. Or if you've had a childhood, you've probably been to Florida. Or if you're alive, you've seen Star Wars. Apparently, that assumption is incorrect.

Do our experiences and personalities and passions lead us to certain information, and perhaps shy us away from knowing other things?

Or is some of what we know, or don't know, completely random? How much of what we know do we unintentionally stumble upon? How much of what we don't know is just based on the type of family we were born into?

How big a role does inquisitiveness play? Do those with the most questions learn the most, or do people who don't really question things still learn just as much, just indirectly?

I am really inquisitive, but there are still so many facts that I don't know, and am looking forward to finding out! I love the fact that no matter how much I know, there are still so many little bits of information and facts that I have yet to discover! Learning, to me, never gets old.

So, thank goodness for Google. And the Discovery channel. What did people do without these wonderful information outlets years ago???

Thankful for "The Whole Love" of Music

Over the past few years, I have developed quite the affinity and respect for Wilco. Jeff Tweedy and the rest of Wilco together create extremely interesting, varied, sometimes energetic, sometimes just plain emotional music that sometimes carries on for a long time (they have some tracks in excess of ten minutes)—different than anything else I’ve ever heard before. Some of Wilco’s songs are perfect for fuelling the energy of a party (“Heavy Metal Drummer,” “I Might”), and others are the kind you need to listen to by yourself in your car, so the lyrics can be tucked around you and all of the interesting sounds can serenade you alone (“Country Disappeared,” “Ashes of American Flags”).

Emmett in his Wilco concert merch from Joel: "Wilco Loves Your Baby"

Wilco just released their new album called The Whole Love on September 27. I love it. I was thoroughly impressed and have thoroughly enjoyed listening to the album. I thought that I would write a post about Wilco and their new album this week.

I started with going to their website, and the first thing my eyes locked on was a large link that read, “Please Read Henry’s Story.” I thought, How nice; probably a story about some fan. I complied to the site’s request and read Henry’s story.

Well, Henry’s story ended up being an emotional one about a boy named Henry. He was a musician at heart, inherently, from birth, and he also happened to love Wilco.

He died when he was 18. His mother wrote this beautiful story about him, and her story ended with a very moving description of the way that Wilco and The Whole Loveimpacted her, in light of Henry and his way-too-soon death.

Having read that story, I have decided to turn down another side trail (which leads to a huge general expanse of meaning instead of something smaller and specific), instead of just reviewing Wilco’s new album. Yes, it’s awesome. Yes, you should listen to it. Yes, you should listen to all of Wilco’s albums because they are all awesome.

There’s more. Down the side trail I’ve decided to take, I see the bigger picture. I see how many of us, in many different ways, respond to music that our fellow human brothers and sisters have created—it impacts us.

We were created to react to music, to feel rejuvenated by music and to be inspired by music.

I have always known that people connect with some music, but perhaps not others, and that’s maybe because of the way we were wired “musically.” In some way or another, we were created to connect with music. 

What Henry’s story reminded me of is that music also brings us together (just like Henry and his mother connected with each other in a certain way through Wilco’s music). Music creates community. Music can facilitate connections between people that would have never existed without it. Lyrics can “hit home” and make the listener feel like he or she is not alone but instead connected with others who feel the same way.

Because of Henry’s story and its connection with music, many people have connected with Henry’s mother. Many people have been inspired by the story; in fact, Wilco also has a link on their site to donate to Henry’s fund, a non-profit organization that provides help for youth age 12-20 who have drug addictions.

The impact of music doesn't stop there. Not only are we wired to connect with certain music, and consequentially, with other people through that music, music lives on past those connections to play a significant role in perpetuating itself:

Music facilitates a passionate cycle of creativity.

Songs impact and inspire souls to create something—like more music—that impacts other souls into reacting another way, and the cycle continues. Songs can dig down to your guts, strum your heart strings, make your head tingle and your eyes water and your soul feel more alive than it has in many months, or perhaps many years. Emotions and inspiration and passion can be transformed into music. Music breeds feeling. Feeling grows into love. Love keeps us alive.

Wilco in particular is doing exceptionally well in connecting stories, experiences and people by creating music and lyrics that envelop the soul, excite the mind and inspire others to action.

This Thanksgiving, I’m very thankful for music – I’m thankful that God added music into the mix when He created us and this world.

Three Cheers for Thirty

This week, I thought I'd share a few reflections on turning thirty because as of yesterday, I am thirty years old.

My first thought about turning thirty has always been, "That's so OLD!" I guess to enter a new decade can be quite a shock. For ten years, I've been a twenty-something-year-old, and now I'm ` thirty-something-year-old.

When I dug a little deeper into my thoughts on thirty, however, I started thinking back to everything that happened in my twenties, in my last decade of life, which is the first decade of adult life, in which a lot of important, life-changing events happen and important, life-changing decisions must be made. Have you ever realized how much happens in our twenties? For many people, at least one, or maybe all, of the following experiences are generally standard:

• Going to college or university (which means deciding what career path you want to follow - although many of us end up changing our minds on which program we want to take)
• Getting your first "real" job or starting your "career" (and we all hope that the program we took in college or university ends up being applicable to this first job) 
• Moving out of your parents' house into either a place you rent or have bought (either way, paying for your living space)
• Falling in love, dating seriously, and/or getting married (which means thinking about and deciding who you want to spend the rest of your life with)
• Having children (which, if you are the mother of said children, often means taking time away from the job you invested schooling and experience into to do something completely different - taking care of a baby, which is more important than your job, but ironically, you likely didn't take college courses or gain work experience in child-rearing)

There's five major, life-changing, significant circumstances that are the result of major, life-changing, significant decisions we are often prompted and prodded to make in our twenties.

Sure, being twenty-something is fun in a lot of ways: you're young and in your prime (so you look great), you have lots of energy, you are constantly facing a new opportunity, life is constantly changing, even as an adult, you are constantly growing up and maturing and gathering new responsibilities, and you are experiencing some pretty amazing life events. 

When I looked back at all the firsts and all the new experiences and all of the changes I experienced in my twenties, though, I kind of felt tired afterward (maybe it's because I'm thirty and I'm getting "old," so I tire easily). Either way, I felt tired. I felt the trauma of all of the thoughts and emotions and experiences and change, I felt the stress of the many decisions and transitions (wondering and hoping beyond hope that I made the right decision each time), and I felt the dizziness of the ups and downs: the continuous rising of emotional reaction to a major life event, and the subsequent dip of emotion when things went back down to normal, only to rise up again to meet a new opportunity or change. Yes, I sure felt tired to think back on all of those things.

I learned a lot in my twenties. I experienced a lot in my twenties. Thankfully, though, I feel quite refreshed to be in a brand new decade of my life. I hope that my thirties hold many new opportunities and excitement in my life's journey through the decades, but I am looking forward to a sense of stability and balance that only comes from having established a lot of things in my life prior to turning thirty.

Thus I must say, "Three cheers for thirty!" I'm really looking forward to what God has in store for me next.