tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31175825969910591682024-03-13T10:19:43.115-07:00Faith'sbook...like Facebook with a lisp.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-59651879524918168992016-04-28T19:02:00.003-07:002016-04-29T18:50:05.414-07:00Dating Debunked<br />
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This is the sequel to the blog post <a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/2015/04/singlehood-debunked.html" target="_blank">Singlehood Debunked</a>. Some people found that blog post depressing. I have only one thing to say to that: "HAHAHAHA." Some people found it encouraging and related to it well, mission accomplished! Now I'm going to talk about dating, because Christians are weird about dating. Now you are thinking, "Yes but, Christians are just weird," and my response would be: "This is true..." Previously just the idea of dating made me cringe with it's awkwardness and vulnerability. Oh wait, nothing has changed. I'm sure there are people out there who aren't awkward on first dates, but I don't know them and have no desire to unless they can teach me their secret, ninja ways. <i>Who are these mysterious people? Where do they live? What do they do?</i> No one knows. But they probably live in those <a href="http://www.hipstercrite.com/2015/05/22/dear-people-who-live-in-fancy-tiny-houses/" target="_blank">tiny houses</a> the environmentalist in us thinks are cool but only 0.01% of the population can actually live in and maintain their sanity. That's why they like dating. It gets them out of their tiny house.<br />
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For many years I wallowed in self-pity over my lack of dates. I developed serious insecurities and was convinced something was wrong with me. Ok so a lot of things are wrong with me, but I mean something that made me undesirable. It didn't matter how much my family or friends loved me, I was convinced the opposite sex was simply repelled by my presence. God saved me from a lot of heartache, but there was a lot of pain along the way and a lot of needless night-time tears, because as everyone knows night-time is when your bedroom becomes a glass box of emotions where insecurities run rampant and logic and reason sit back and laugh... at you. I share this because I know feeling undesirable is a huge struggle for a lot of single women and men, and something dating can do is affirm that you are in fact desirable, that you are just as worthy of love as anyone else, <i>even if it doesn't work out,</i> and that you should not settle for less. For me, dating has only confirmed again and again that insecurities are often untrue, unattractive and unnecessary. <span style="font-size: medium;"><i><b>So throw them away.</b></i></span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4ZLeeYkzbYU/VyJ757G-UQI/AAAAAAAAA_E/rVp4NPHtHCY8_reMu2XKP6_-Z2kGNpV3QCLcB/s1600/tumblr_m8441vqKix1r3n6bto1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4ZLeeYkzbYU/VyJ757G-UQI/AAAAAAAAA_E/rVp4NPHtHCY8_reMu2XKP6_-Z2kGNpV3QCLcB/s200/tumblr_m8441vqKix1r3n6bto1_500.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is why I believe that dating in the right way - and this is the key - is really, really good for us. It is a growing experience and growing can be painful. "Leave me as I am!" I say. "Improve me? Impossible! I'm way too stubborn for that!" I mentioned the book, </span><i style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.zondervan.com/boundaries-in-dating" target="_blank">Boundaries in Dating</a> </i>by Dr. Townsend and Dr. Cloud in my previous blog post and I also mentioned that my mom gave me this book after a previous breakup as if she was cryptically trying to say something. Just what she was trying to say no one will ever know. I'm mentioning this book again because it was incredibly helpful to know where I had gone wrong in my previous relationships and how to deal with future ones. There is one chapter on physical boundaries, but like every Christian-camp kid I have an encyclopedic knowledge of physical boundaries drilled into me from camp sex-talk nights. What I did not know enough about was emotional boundaries and how incredibly important they are, and this I feel is something we are missing in society as a whole. How many abusive relationships could be avoided before Stockholm Syndrome sets in, if women, and men, knew how to set emotional boundaries? If we only knew how to recognize those crucial red flags, so much unnecessary pain could be avoided. However, I still believe that physical boundaries are the number one most important part of a relationship, because whether you like it or not, sex is intrinsically linked to your emotions - to your very soul - and makes all the emotional boundaries that inevitably get crossed once you have already crossed the physical ones, <span style="font-size: x-small;">ten </span><span style="font-size: medium;">times</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">more </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">intense</span><span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span><br />
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This book encourages dating and debunks the belief that many Christians have that dating is a bad thing or something to be avoided. It taught me what characteristics in a date are okay and what are not and how to deal with someone who is has unhealthy boundaries. For example someone who might very well be kind and loving but who lies to get out of things, or someone who is manipulative or self-centred and maybe doesn't even realize it, how to tell that person in a loving way that their behaviour is not okay and that they either need to make some changes or I will have no choice but to humiliate them in public by pantsing them... Um, sorry, I mean, I'll have no choice but to move on. Why? Because I respect myself and the person too much to continue in an unhealthy relationship, because not addressing the issues someone has that are hurting you means not giving them the chance to grow, and because staying in that relationship if they refuse to grow is actually doing that person, and you, a disservice.<br />
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However, not being taught about emotional boundaries until now, combined with being a total relationship newb, I got into some deep waters a while ago in some of my (thankfully) short-lived relationships with guys who found it was all too easy to manipulate me. Previous to this I thought I was this smart, strong, independent woman like Erin Brockovich minus the biker man. I was convinced I was pretty much immune to manipulation. Shocker! Being strong in your opinions on free-range eggs and pointing out the idiots who don't wear helmets when they ride their bike does not mean you know a single thing when it comes to relationships. Turns out when you combine an easy-going personality, desperation for love on top of desperation from circumstances (like the constant fear of losing your job, not being able to find a room-mate and chronic fatigue), you are quite, quite easily manipulated by possibly well-meaning men with a lot of momma issues. Stir all this up in a big pot of crazy and you get a ticket to Italy after only a month of dating, plans to move in together despite being against your morals and a terrified family who holds your passport hostage in a desperate attempt to keep you from being murdered - and that's not all! - proceeds to take you to a pretend "going away party" which is actually an emergency confrontation with your entire family, your pastor and his wife. No big deal. It happens to the best of us, right? <span style="font-size: large;">WRONG!</span> <span style="font-size: small;">How much of this could have been avoided if I had read <i>Boundaries in Dating</i>? I would like to think a whole lot. Why would I like to think this? Because I hope it can be prevented in others, particularly vulnerable women - which, it turns out, you can be without knowing it. The good news is that those disastrous relationships and that book have now basically made me an expert in emotional boundaries. <i>Wanna know what boundaries of yours are being crossed? Ask Faith! She's experienced them all!</i> </span>So if you are currently dating, or want to be dating, or are married or even if you have any platonic relationships with live people whatsoever (so... basically everyone on the planet except some well-educated nuns and misanthropes) you should read this book.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LCYoWngnhSI/VyK3oD-mBQI/AAAAAAAAA_U/-Ab6MQ_ThCUSAL6IrZyRaVHpI_5mZfyqwCLcB/s1600/images%2B%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LCYoWngnhSI/VyK3oD-mBQI/AAAAAAAAA_U/-Ab6MQ_ThCUSAL6IrZyRaVHpI_5mZfyqwCLcB/s1600/images%2B%25283%2529.jpg" /></a>Let me just go ahead and debunk some of the things I have heard other well-meaning Christians say. I have heard it said that you need to be perfectly content with yourself as a single person before God is going to bring you your future spouse. Bologna, I say! And I don't mind saying it. I will say it again, Bologna! But that's mostly because it's a great word and no one knows how to spell it or what the meat is made of. I don't think God is that predictable or that ungracious: He doesn't wait for us to be perfect before giving us gifts - <span style="font-size: small;">example, <b style="font-size: x-large;">Jesus</b><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></span> God gives good gifts to His children, not His <i>perfect </i>children. They do not exist. They lasted like five minutes in the Garden of Eden with one freaking rule. However it wasn't until I truly grew in my relationship with Christ, devoting time to study His word and spending time with Him in prayer, putting His kingdom first before my own desires, and desiring a relationship with Him more than anything else, that I was no longer consumed by my desire for an earthly companion. But this does not mean this desire went away. It means my priorities changed.<br />
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Of course we all know that the more content you are as a single person, the happier you will be as a single person. Imagine that! But that applies to all stages of your life and learning to be truly content is a life-long process. As children we wish we were older, when we get old we wish we were younger, the single wish they were married, the married wish they were single, parents look back on their days without children and just... cry (I'm assuming) and all of us wish we made a little bit more money, and then a little more, and a little more after that. The only answer to this problem is Jesus and your relationship with Him. It is true that you will be more or less attractive to the opposite sex depending on how content you are, but the truth will always come out eventually: <i>we are all desperate for love. </i>Just make sure you hide that desperation for at least the first few dates. If it doesn't go away, maybe hide it until marriage... or you know, forever. (Just saying.) I know from experience that most of that love can only be satisfied by knowing the love of Jesus. But God made us with a desire for romantic love and I do not believe God withholds this from us just because we are not yet as content as He wants us to be on our own. Nowhere in the Bible will you find this (example, all the idiots in the Bible with spouses). There may be other reasons why you are still single: a) because there actually is something wrong with you that you need to work on (awkward), or b) you haven't met the right person, or c) for some reason being single is either for your benefit or for God's glory. But if you do meet the right person, it will always be at the right time, because God's timing is perfect. And yes God can use on-line dating. On-line dating is not somehow inexplicably exempt from God's control.<br />
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In my experience, some things in life are best learned as a single person, some things are best, and possibly, only, learned in a relationship. But be sure of this: God will use whatever circumstance you are in to help you grow. And be even more sure of this: whatever circumstance you are in, it is part of God's plan for your imperfect, short, little life that is so incomprehensibly important to Him. Because He made you and loves you. You will, however, never be perfect. So if you are waiting to be perfect or to have a perfect relationship with God before you start dating, I have some bad news for you, according to Jesus there is no marriage in heaven...<br />
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I have heard from Christians that they will only date someone if they intend to marry that person. It's just funny, 'cause, you know, the point of dating is to find out if that's the person you want to marry. If you don't date you will probably end up marrying an out-of-work hippy who thinks patchouli oil is an acceptable deodorant replacement <i>because you didn't date anyone else in order to figure out what you want in the first place. </i>Nobody will ever be perfect, but it is true that the person you choose to marry almost exclusively determines the happiness quota for your entire life. <u>So choose wisely my friend.</u><br />
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Finally, I have heard it said that you should be friends first before dating someone. Unfortunately friends first often just means super-duper confusing first and disappointing second. Whereas, if you understand that the purpose of dating is simply to get to know someone <i>to see if you want to be in a relationship with them</i>, the intentions are so much clearer. There is this thing with Christians called a DTR talk. DTR means "Define the Relationship" and it is encouraged that friends of the opposite sex make their intentions clear. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, it's a really good thing, but if people would just do what they used to do twenty years ago and <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">go</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">on </span><span style="font-size: medium;">a</span><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">date</span><i style="font-size: x-large;">,</i></span> then... you wouldn't need to have this conversation. Girls wouldn't sit at home pining away, thinking, "I wonder if he likes me." Instead their really smart-but-harsh friends could just smack them across the face and say, "No you idiot, or else he would have asked you on a date." It's that simple. And if people went on more dates then maybe emotional boundaries would be more talked about. We wouldn't be such relationship babies, thrown into these intense relationships where suddenly everything seems like a life or death situation: "If I say no to him, he'll die!" or "If she doesn't hear me say I love you every 24 hours she'll go into anaphylactic shock!"<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KX2tokvUp6o/VyK3rLcHBCI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/rQ5u29qosCkrmP7D3uzie77ClsuB_DiBACLcB/s1600/d430d0e8efcca204755fbf006d948760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KX2tokvUp6o/VyK3rLcHBCI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/rQ5u29qosCkrmP7D3uzie77ClsuB_DiBACLcB/s320/d430d0e8efcca204755fbf006d948760.jpg" width="214" /></a>Unless there are some extenuating circumstances, if you are interested in the person <i>then ask them out.</i> And start changing the idea that dating someone instantly locks you in on a terrifying roller-coaster of impending doom, *ahem,* I mean marriage. Go on dates and start figuring out what you want in a spouse; you know, that person you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with.<i> </i><b><i>Take it slow</i>.</b> Don't settle. Have high standards and let yourself figure out which standards aren't actually important after all (usually ones involving appearances) and which ones are (usually ones involving personality and beliefs). Demand high standards from the person you're dating, and if they're good standards, heck, try to live up to them! But most importantly set boundaries and stick to them. Don't let yourself be manipulated - girls, and guys, need to learn how to say no to a lot more than just sex. And for goodness sakes, don't be unequally yoked! Find someone who believes the same life-changing and life-giving things you do. Dating has confirmed for me again and again that I would never be satisfied in a relationship with a man who has not made Jesus number one in his life. This goes for anything that is important and life-changing for you. Dating someone who does not believe the life-changing things that you do is possible, but God has told us not to be unequally yoked for a reason: because it is <i>for our benefit</i>. Just like saving yourself for marriage is. Just like staying away from sin is. Just like being close to Jesus is.<br />
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If you feel like you have things you need to work on first before being in a relationship, then go work on yourself, but never, ever let someone you are dating make you feel like you are too much or too little. God made you and you are just enough. Unless of course, you're referring to those particular faults that we all have and constantly need to work on - like being so lazy you will watch the same horrible channel on TV rather than try and find the remote. The beauty of it is, dating will help you learn these things about yourself - the good and the bad - and you will grow and it will be painful, and yes it may end in heartache, but it will be wonderful too.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-62330544303445876612016-02-05T17:04:00.000-08:002016-02-05T18:00:52.113-08:00"Cog-mitive Ther-py" or Keepin' It RealMy last blog post didn't get the reception I wanted. First of all, nobody read it (other than my mom). Second of all, those who did read it (my mom) said they were concerned because my last few blog posts make me sound depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic, instead of revealing my positive, loving, bubbly, amazing, wonderful, fantastic personality. Ahem, sorry, I got a little carried away there. Well mom, I have some unfortunate news for you... I AM depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic. I am also positive, loving and bubbly (we'll stop there). Enter the world of a happy depressive. What a dichotomy I am! Just imagine the war going on in my personality every day, a fierce battle of good versus evil! It goes something like this, "Remember, just be positive." And then, "But I don't wanna!" It's really sophisticated. The problem is, what I choose to write about is usually issues I am dealing with that I know other people are too, in the hopes that together we don't feel so alone. It often requires me to dig deep into my depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic bucket of sorrows.<br />
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So as a nice change, I'm going to try writing about happy things only...<br />
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Puppies are nice. I like them. They lick me and I don't mind. Other people are like, "Hey, stop licking me, that's gross!" but I'm like, "Hey, thanks! That's a little bit gross but mostly cute and I like it." So that's nice. Puppies will love you even if you feel unlovable. Puppies were actually the first hippies and started the hippy movement in the 60's but they are so under-represented that they never got the credit they deserve.<br />
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Kittens are also nice... sometimes. But they have these little claws that are like razor-needle-scissors and they won't hesitate to use them no matter how much you love them. They are not very particular in who they use them on either (in whom they use them on? On whom they use them on? Who they use what on? Who's using what, now? How? Why? Let's move on). They will scratch your eyes out if they want. But don't let it hurt your feelings because they don't mean it, even if you know they secretly laugh behind your back about it.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BiAZldXWzMw/VrVNAls-DcI/AAAAAAAAA94/SxcGnKLKfKw/s1600/Funny-baby-pictures-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BiAZldXWzMw/VrVNAls-DcI/AAAAAAAAA94/SxcGnKLKfKw/s320/Funny-baby-pictures-3.jpg" width="320" /></a>Also, I love babies. My brother had one, which was really nice of him, cause of how much he knows I love babies. His name is Ewan, like "you-won" (which we did), not like "E-won" which is cool because it sounds like something from Star Wars, but unfortunately not his name. God made Ewan extra-special cute (I'm not kidding, he is extra-special cute) just to make me happy because He knows I can get depressed, lonely and slightly pathetic sometimes. So gee, thanks. I like him. I like him a lot. All I want to do is visit him so I can squish him and be as physically close to him as I possibly can. Some day my nephew is going to sing to me, "Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me," but in the mean time he can't talk. He can't even get away. He physically isn't even capable of crawling himself to safety. He is mine, all mine, MWAHAHAHAHA! Actually he's my brother and sister-in-law's, but you get the idea. I'm quite attached. Being an aunt is amazing because you can finally kiss a baby as much as you want without feeling like any minute now the mom is going to charge you with molesting their child.<br />
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I also like ice-cream but I'm allergic. I found out I'm even allergic to goat's milk ice-cream, so that little victory of finding a delicious alternative to real ice-cream died about as quickly as a fading star AKA a fiery ball of gas (like me when I eat it). Turns out I'm not lactose-intolerant to cow's milk (the allergy I have to dairy is like a hay fever allergy), instead I'm lactose-intolerant to goat's milk. It's like when I found out at an early age that I'm not just allergic to the milk in chocolate - my favourite food on the planet (is chocolate a food? Or is candy a separate category? What if the chocolate has almonds in it? Then does it count? So many questions...) - I'm also allergic to the very cocoa itself. And wheat. And potatoes. And rice. I would die in Italy, Ireland and China. Some people might think God hates me... Oh gosh I never thought about it that way...<br />
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This happy-writing thing isn't working.<br />
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You see, I <i>could </i>write about only happy things, but writing about only happy things gets boring after a while and usually doesn't do a lot of good. I mean, if you really want me to, I could write about my nephew for a very, very long time. For instance, he likes to growl like a little bear, all the time, and sometimes, if you're lucky, he makes pterodactyl sounds which is just really cool of him, also really smart considering he's only seven months old. Cause, like, how does he even know what a pterodactyl sounds like? I mean sure, nobody does, cause they're prehistoric creatures and all, but the point is he is pretty much a paleontologist. He even flaps his chubby little arms around a lot like he is preparing to fly, and I just don't have the heart to break it to him yet that this will never happen. He will never fly. That kind of news can really mess up a kid's dreams of being a pterodactyl. Also, the spelling.<br />
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But I suppose happy things do make us feel better, and positive thinking is incredibly important to making positive changes. It's called C<i>ognitive Therapy</i>, say it with me now, "Cog-mitive Ther-py," and my mom loves to tell me about it. Maybe, for once I should listen to her. She <i>is </i>usually right. Someone with depression will automatically think negative thoughts and their view of the world can become so distorted that they don't even recognize the truth when it stares them in the face. It can affect their very memories, so that a depressed person remembers events differently - as negatively impacting them even if it was them who negatively impacted others. Scary. But there is a solution! Cognitive Therapy was created by a woman named Judith Beck. She said, "It's not the power of positive thinking. It's the power of realistic thinking. People find that when they think more realistically, they usually feel better." And let's face it, nobody wants to be around a negative person. We all have these people in our lives and we try hard to avoid them. It goes like this:<br />
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Negative Nancy: "Ugh, I had such a bad day. Everyone was so annoying at work. One lady told me all about her daughter's conjunctivitis, and I'm like <i>shut up</i>. So wanna hang out?"<br />
Positive Pearl: "Sorry I'm actually kind of busy."<br />
Nancy: "Of course you are, you're always busy! Nobody takes the time to do real things anymore, probably because they're addicted to their phones. I can't stand people who are always on their phones! I mean get a life!"<br />
Pearl: "Yeah, I hear you. Maybe Mediocre Melissa is free. She's a nice girl."<br />
Nancy: "Seriously? She's the worst. Oh man even talking about her gave me a headache. Do you have Tylenol?"<br />
Pearl: "Sorry no."<br />
Nancy: "Ugh, of course not. I think I'm getting a cold. It's probably a virus. It's probably conjunctivitis from that lady's daughter. She probably passed it on to me as the spit particles from her annoying conversation floated on the air particles to my mouth. Ew. Gross. I hate air particles. I hate breathing other people's air. Especially on buses. That's why I will <i>never </i>take the bus. My mom could be dying and I would not even take the bus to go see her in the hospital. So what are you doing this weekend?"<br />
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Kz7xikM_n0/VrVNAlf-WWI/AAAAAAAAA90/vvmmP-VWAcg/s1600/download%2B%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Kz7xikM_n0/VrVNAlf-WWI/AAAAAAAAA90/vvmmP-VWAcg/s1600/download%2B%25284%2529.jpg" /></a>Pearl: "Oh... things. You know. Maybe go for a run."<br />
Nancy: "I HATE running. I don't understand people who exercise."<br />
Pearl: "Haha... right. So what about you?"<br />
Nancy: "Let me just check the schedule on my phone. Oh look, nothing. I'll probably just sit on the couch and watch TV by myself because I have no friends. Everyone's too busy for me."<br />
Pearl: "Haha... well, it's been great but... My cat... is... calling me."<br />
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Awkward.<br />
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And I certainly do not want to be one of those people. But being positive in a legitimately negative situation is just plain obnoxious. It usually goes like this:<br />
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Normal Norman: "I have cancer."<br />
Obnoxiously Positive Olivia: "Don't say that! You need to think positively! You are <i>fighting </i>cancer."<br />
NN: "Ok, I'm fighting cancer. I've been meaning to tell you but didn't want to upset you."<br />
OPO: "I'm really sorry but I'm so proud of you for not giving in to it. You know there are lot of naturopathic-herbalistic-hippyistic remedies I can send you. Like asparagus. Just, like, eat five pounds of asparagus a day and your body doesn't know what to do with all this asparagus so it like poops out the cancer cells with the asparagus. It's science. The only downside is you have green poop."<br />
NN: "Can't wait to try that, thanks."<br />
OPO: "Have you tried meditation? Maybe you can <i>think</i> the cancer away."<br />
NN: "I don't think so."<br />
OPO: "See, there's your problem right there."<br />
NN: "Also, my dog died."<br />
OPO: "Maybe you should have fed him more asparagus."<br />
NN: "I hate you. Our friendship is over."<br />
OPO: "That's just the cancer talking."<br />
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You don't want to know what Norman said next.<br />
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I like that Cognitive Therapy isn't just about being positive, it's about changing your thoughts from negative to <i>realistic</i>,<i> </i>which can be hard to do<i>. </i>Negative thinking usually has a grain of truth in it, but it's exaggerated to the point where the problem seems overwhelming and unsolvable, and instead of working on it, you give up. If you look at something realistically, the problem becomes manageable, whereas if you only think of it positively, you ignore the problem altogether. They've done studies and found cognitive therapy doesn't just help people with situational depression, it can actually work as well as antidepressants, even in severe cases. I would say I was sceptical of these findings, but that would seem negative.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1VOWjegrscU/VrVNA6ZP7bI/AAAAAAAAA-A/jKUUHFjRLBs/s1600/tumblr_nn26yy1di51r2226mo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1VOWjegrscU/VrVNA6ZP7bI/AAAAAAAAA-A/jKUUHFjRLBs/s320/tumblr_nn26yy1di51r2226mo1_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a>You see children, it is important to be real, not just positive. So here I am, keepin' it real. And life is hard - something I wanted to shout at the dude in front of me in the line-up at Rock the Shores as he said, "Why do people complain so much and say life is so hard. Life is great!" My guess is he still lives at home, his mom still does his laundry, he doesn't have depression, his best friend Norman isn't dying of cancer and he isn't living in poverty, but I could be wrong. Yet as hard as life is, you can't take it too seriously or it gets a big ego and starts sending you lemons, like anybody was ever happy to receive lemons. People say, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," as if there were any other options. You can't get a job with lemons, unless your job is making or selling lemonade, which is not very profitable. You could maybe make lemon squares, but you need other ingredients so let's just hope life throws you some flour and baking powder too. You could try trading lemons for other things, like Pokemon cards, but unless your friend has scurvy he will probably be like, "Why would I ever want lemons?" and he might punch you in the face so be careful. Those are about your only options when it comes to lemons... This has been a great conversation. Let's keep it real again sometime.<br />
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Faith'sbook, out.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-57701722192750723172015-04-28T22:37:00.000-07:002015-04-29T09:25:50.905-07:00Singlehood DebunkedYes, I know, it sounds crazy, but singleness, or what I like to call utter aloneness, can lead to feelings of being... alone. One might call this "alone-liness," or just, you know, loneliness. You've probably never heard of it, or suffered from it (because if we thought others did we wouldn't feel so alone). This blog post is about this rare condition. Prepare yourselves. It sucks.<br />
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My brother got married! I am so incredibly happy for him. I got to be a bridesmaid and of course, was mistakenly given the task of being the first bridesmaid to walk down the aisle. There was no dress rehearsal. But as most of life does not come with a dress rehearsal I should have been okay with simple directions. Unfortunately I am not good with simple directions. All I remembered was which groomsman was my partner and towards him I walked aaaannnnd lined up on the groom's side of the bridal party. I stood in front of him, realized what I had done and whispered to him, "I'm on the wrong side aren't I?" then did an awkward side shuffle to the other side of the stage. This actually happened. Most said it was the highlight of the entire ceremony which is quite something considering two people just gave their lives to each other in holy matrimony. In a way I'm a little offended for my brother and his wife. In another way I'm incredibly gratified. Shame does not come into play here like it would for most people. Anyway, I always thought I would be married first. Not because I was more likely to meet the man of my dreams than my brother was to meet the man... of his.... wait that didn't work out. What I mean is I just assumed I would get married first because I was more likely to fall head over heels with the first man I clapped eyes on and marry him, natural-born serial killer or not. This wasn't my plan or anything people, I'm just a realist. Thankfully God has saved me from myself, (something He is all-too familiar with) and from the potential serial killer I might have married. So here I am. All alone. A spinster. An old maid. An ol' fuddy-duddy. (Somehow this turned into name-calling for single women.) <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-efFAzFGD9fw/VUBIMxivChI/AAAAAAAAA7U/x8aSJsT1dpQ/s1600/images.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-efFAzFGD9fw/VUBIMxivChI/AAAAAAAAA7U/x8aSJsT1dpQ/s1600/images.png" height="266" width="320" /></a>I can only hope to find someone as perfect for me as my brother's new wife is for him. But will I? That is the question. Last year I got so hopeless I joined e-Harmony, and then Christian Mingle. Sorry did I say hopeless? Haha, I meant, um, er, adventurous. So far it's been... hopeless. Sorry did I say hopeless? I meant despairing, <i>THE END.</i> A lot of the eligible bachelors online aren't even close to being right for me so it's not so much that I am missing out as being saved from a life of misery. I have said it a million times but I will say it again: I would rather be single my entire life than be with someone God didn't want for me. Does that mean it won't be freaking hard if I never find someone? NOPE. It sure doesn't. <i><u>NEWSFLASH</u></i>: my number one, number two, even three, <br />
four and five reasons for being placed on this earth do not include finding the man of my dreams. This is very hard for me to take in. I'm... having... a panic attack... right now... thinking about it... My heart, mind and body are trying very hard to tell me that in fact finding the man of my dreams is the only reason I was placed on this earth. That is just not true. My actual reasons for being placed on this earth are:<br />
<ol>
<li>To love God</li>
<li>To serve Him</li>
<li>To love His beloved children (AKA everyone)</li>
<li>To serve His children </li>
<li>To try not to screw up on 1 through 4. (If you must know 1 through 4 are actually all the same thing: serving God. Number five is called "being human.")</li>
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This feeling of desperation, of "needing" a companion, some would call anti-feminist. And I would say, "Yes, thank you. I will tell myself that as I cry into a bucket of ice cream that I am allergic to." Some would also say if you're not happy when you're single, you'll never be happy. And I would say, "Screw you," depending of course on whether it's that time of the month. But there is nothing wrong with wanting a companion. And there is nothing wrong with feeling lonely. It's what you do about that feeling that matters. Are you taking it to God or are you giving yourself away? Are you trying to fill your heart with good things or are you the wolf licking the frozen, blood-coated blade not realizing you are only harming yourself? (And most likely others too.) Don't you know that those immediate, quick fixes lead to death? I for one want what Jesus is offering: life and life to the fullest. So I will wait on God. But if I wait with my eyes to the ground I might miss what God is showing me. I recently read the book, "Boundaries in Dating" by Dr. Townsend and Dr. Cloud which my mom gave me in a subtle attempt to say something, what I don't know, but this book is amazing. It taught me dating can be a really good thing when done the right way. And online dating is just a convenient way of dating, or a great place for socially awkward people to try to get dates. So now I'm all pumped up to start dating in the right way - with no dates. I haven't had much success with online dating. Part of my problem with e-Harmony is that I don't let the online relationship go past "Makes or Breaks." This is literally the third step... There are only four. The first one is asking a couple ice breakers that you can answer with multiple choice, and since childhood, it has been instilled in me that multiple choice means lowered chances of failure so I always do this one. The second step is asking more in-depth questions that require you to write a real response. This takes effort. The third step is sending your "Makes or Breaks" - your deal breakers and makers in relationships, and finally after all this hoopla you can message the person. Let me give you the low-down on what usually happens with me: I get to the "Makes or Breaks" stage and either his answers suck or my motivation has died five steps ago in the four step process. Why you ask? Well for one I just cannot be bothered with anyone I am not really interested in and it is very hard to be interested in a computer. The other reason I don't go past makes or beaks is because quite often the guy's deal breakers include not sleeping excessively and being emotionally stable... Awkward. This is me in a nut-shell: "Hi, I'm Faith. I'm tired. All the time. I sleep as often as possible. In fact I wish I was sleeping right now. I also have depression. I am emotionally unstable. Hi. Marry me." <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u8ftdrGrr10/VUBJmRst5LI/AAAAAAAAA7c/LhLMXCflkLk/s1600/NAi5V.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u8ftdrGrr10/VUBJmRst5LI/AAAAAAAAA7c/LhLMXCflkLk/s1600/NAi5V.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>Let me tell you some fun anecdotes from my online dating adventures. Everyone knows that girls are suckers for animals. So you see all these pictures of guys holding cute animals and it's true, I am instantly sucked in. Granted, I am looking at the animal and no longer at the guy in the picture but he gets wrapped up in my warm, fuzzy feelings for animals. It's genius. I thought I had a keeper when I saw this one Albertan's profile picture of him holding a cute little bunny. Unfortunately, the caption ruined it. It said: "I have a rabbit farm for eating rabbits." He might as well have said, "Hey look at this cute rabbit I am holding! I love rabbits! Oh wait, I already ate this one. My bad!" Another guy asked me if I was enjoying the atmospheric conditions. I moved on. Many do not include a single picture where they are smiling. This makes me think they hate smiling, which of course I agree. Smiling is awful and way too much work. We will have a wonderful life together not smiling. Ever. And if he smiles just once, I will file for divorce. Unfortunately there seem to be very few Christian men from Vancouver Island online. That's because, and Statistics Canada has confirmed these findings which you can verify <a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/p/seriously-you-clicked-on-this.html" target="_blank">here</a>, 90% of Vancouver Island is made of women - they use the term "swarming with them" - and 90% of Christians are female. <i>And yet </i>I'm having such a hard time finding a female roommate! What gives. At this point most people would question if maybe they were the problem. I refuse to do so. Fact number three: 80% of men live in Alberta. 100% of them are rednecks. Fact number four: long distance relationships are hard and often not worth it unless
you 100% do not care if you have to leave your family and friends and
everything you hold dear.<br />
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If you are single and finding it difficult, that's because it is. And you shouldn't feel guilty either when you hear about how much you should be cherishing your singlehood and, well... aren't. We were made to want companionship. It is as much a part of life as the desire for protection, happiness, family and food. Yes food. Of course with food, if you don't eat you will literally die, whereas they tell me you cannot die of singlehood. But you can die from loneliness. I would say that most suicides are caused by sheer loneliness - whether it's loneliness that brings on depression or depression that brings on loneliness it is all the same in the end: death. (This got morbid fast.) I just mean we don't take loneliness seriously enough. I struggle with depression and despite being surrounded by loved ones, loneliness is a big problem for me. God made us to love and want love, but what we forget is that He made us first and foremost to love Him and to want <i>His</i> love. The idea that someone would feel so lonely they would want to end their life, when in fact, their Creator loves them with a passionate love and died <i>to eradicate</i> the very loneliness they are suffering from is a fantastically woven lie from the very enemy<i> </i>of our souls. Now, I know from experience that the more you seek God, the more you abide in His love, the more your desire for earthly things, including companionship, will fade into the background. What is earthly love when heavenly love is in view! Instead earthly love is seen for what it is: an extension of heavenly love. God <i>is </i>love. So what do we single people do? <i>We fix our eyes on Jesus. </i>Does this mean your earthly desire for love will go away? Hell no! (Wrong phrasing?) All I know for sure is, He has not taken away my desire for earthly love yet. You?<br />
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But how <i>do</i> we fix our eyes on Jesus in real life? I mean, who has time to pray or read their Bible anymore? Who has time to put effort into a relationship? Good news! You are well on your way to a life of bad relationships. Communication is just as important in your relationship with God as it is in your human relationships. A wise philosopher once said, "If you don't communicate your relationship will die" (I learned this in the class "Dating for Dummies 101.") The hard part is taking the time to listen, but just talking to someone without listening is not a relationship. It is freaking annoying is what it is. Sometimes you have to force yourself to pray, which I know, can feel like dry chalk in your mouth; but did you know that chalk is made of calcium? So it's good for you. Yay! <i>Eat that chalk.</i> Because when I force myself to pray, guess what usually happens? I usually end up seeking Him. This includes striving to get rid of anything that gets in between me and Jesus: being careful what I watch, what I think about, who I hang out with and what I am putting in my life. This is how I fix my eyes on Jesus.<br />
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You see friends, my desire for earthly companionship means I am in a continuous, daily, trust exercise between me and my Father. Granted I suck at it, but I <i>need</i> to trust Him, not just because He is trustworthy, but because I whole-heartedly am not. I do not trust myself. Neither should you. (No seriously, don't trust me with anything, I will probably lose it.) And this trust exercise is really, really hard, especially when it comes to loneliness and especially if you struggle with depression, which more of us do than you think. For some reason I am constantly forgetting that in fact God is in control and I am not. I fall on my face and get back up again. Like I said, a continuous trust exercise. And we all hate exercise so we eat burgers instead. And <i>apparently</i> (and now this is really crazy) this trust exercise does not
end in marriage! <i>I know! </i>Can you believe it? If you want children, then you have to
trust God with having children. If you want your business to succeed,
you have to trust God with your business. DOES IT EVER END? Yes. It's
called death. It all comes back to death. (Which, of course, is only the beginning.)<br />
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The End </div>
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-45268606827081112772014-11-21T19:15:00.000-08:002014-12-01T19:06:34.807-08:00All the Fantastic Things I Learned in Mexico<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Arch of Cabo San Lucas at Land's End</td></tr>
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I went to Mexico and I lived. I mean I almost died but mostly I lived. Right now you're thinking, didn't you go to Mexico like six months ago? All I have to say to you people is, yes. Yes I did. Sometimes, however it takes six months to process a thing. Sometimes a life or death experience is just too painful to talk about right away. Other times you just don't get around to writing about it. 50/50. Anyway, the point is I went to Mexico and I said I would write about all the fantastic things I learned in Mexico. Hence, this blog post. It was my first time out of the country and I put this on my New Years Resolution list this year so I actually got to check off every thing on my list (there is a first time for everything. However it was not this time. The first time I checked off everything on my New Years Resolution List was when I was eight and had one resolution: learn to write properly. I held my pencil with my thumb, my pointer finger and my middle finger instead of just my thumb and pointer finger. Once I conquered this, I realized I could do anything.). Before you question why I have never gone out of the country, let me just say this: I had never been out of BC. Oh wait you were expecting me to defend myself? No.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty much the wave that tried to kill me.</td></tr>
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Los Cabos is on the Baja California peninsula, and I went with my good friend Katie at the beginning of June. This is what I learned: waves are dangerous. I don't know if you know this or not (not the waves thing, nobody knows that) you may have heard it on the grapevine, because let's face it, people love stories of life and death, but I almost died in Mexico. A lifeguard saved me. It was a blast. Other than almost dying it was debatably the most fun I had on the entire trip. Unfortunately playing tag with the waves is kind of like playing tag with an axe murderer: you just never know when they are going to take it too far. Here I am having the time of my life, letting the waves wash over me - more like hit me - when all of a sudden a giant wave comes by and things get really competitive. You see, what made it so fun was that every time the waves went out again they tried to pull me back with them and sucked the sand out under my feet like quicksand. In my defence this was not a no-swimming beach. There were many other people playing with the waves and there were people out in the ocean swimming. No, I think the problem came when I decided it would be way more fun to sit down instead of stand. Let me tell you, IT WAS. I was laughing my head off, by myself, while Katie stood safely up on shore questioning my sanity. However, it is very hard to run away - you know that crucial part of the game called "tag" - when you are in fact... sitting down. The first giant wave pulled me too far down the shore, still laughing my head off. Unfortunately when you don't go to the gym you become what they call "a weakling," making it really hard to get up on your feet and run back to shore in quicksand before the next wave comes along. Who would have thought. It was the second giant wave that took me out. I will never forgive that wave. It stole my sunglasses. Anyway, thankfully a lifeguard was actually paying attention because he ran into the water and in between waves managed to pull me onto the shore. I was so shocked I didn't notice that I was pretty much flashing him as well as everyone looking and that my bikini bottoms were so full of sand I looked like I was wearing a diaper. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure Katie was laughing at me. What kind of a terrible person is she? I was still blowing sand out of my nose the next day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riu Santa Fe</td></tr>
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We stayed at the Rio Santa Fe, which ironically, means the Hotel of Saint Faith. Yeah. That's right. I'm named after a hotel. I mean the hotel is named after me? The hotel was beautiful, it was the perfect temperature and we fell in love with the little town of Los Cabos. We went on three paid adventures: one was dinner and entertainment on a pirate ship, and two adventures with Esperanza Tours including a trip to Land's End with snorkeling at Lover's Beach, and a tour of San Jose. What I learned about these adventures:<br />
<ul>
<li>Pirate ships are not very good at adhering to your strict dietary needs</li>
<li>Not everyone is as good at acting as Johnny Depp</li>
<li>The Los Cabos area used to be frequented by real pirates. In fact, rumor has it there is a Spanish ship full of treasure at the bottom of the ocean still waiting to be found. P.S. Katie and I didn't find it, or I wouldn't be writing this blog post anymore, I would make my servant (Katie) write it for me</li>
<li>Land's End isn't actually land's end</li>
<li>Lover's Beach is sweet until you learn that Divorce Beach is on the other side with waves so violent they will kill you</li>
<li>Fried bananas with peanut butter and syrup for breakfast are delicious but high-caloried</li>
<li>What with my allergies to dairy, chocolate and grains, my vegetarian diet other than seafood, and Katie's allergy to shellfish, between the two of us, Katie and I could literally eat everything at the Riu Santa Fe buffet. Together we are a full human being!</li>
<li>Everyone speaks Spanish in Mexico</li>
<li>Tourists are stupid</li>
<li>Okay so I already knew those last two, but this one I didn't know: because Los Cabos is on the Baja California Sur it's over 1,000 miles from the US/Mexican border. That's roughly the distance between France and Russia which means most of the drug cartels and kidnapping don't happen here. Hence, if you are going to Los Cabos to see a live version of Kingpin, you will be vastly disappointed</li>
<li>San Jose del Cabo, a section of Los Cabos, was founded in the 1700s by Jesuit Missionaries and we got to see one of the still functioning churches from that time, the Mission of San Jose del Cabo Church</li>
<li>The place where we snorkeled was in the Sea of Cortez, called "The Aquarium of the World," because of the wide range of fish there</li>
<li>Apparently it's perfectly fine to drink the water in most places in Cabos as most hotels and restaurants have filtered water systems. However they like to put little signs up in the bathroom just to freak you out saying "Don't drink," and right beside it, a cup for drinking. That is my only explanation for why there was a cup and a "no drinking" sign in our bathroom at the hotel</li>
<li>Cabos has some of the most highly rated hotels in Latin America. We were not in one of them. However, Brangelina were probably staying at one of the super fancy hotels we saw on the hillside on our boat ride (this cannot be confirmed)</li>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iUBsownvN4g/VH0qutMYQkI/AAAAAAAAA6I/p3IjIKMJep8/s1600/10363324_10154321429080582_5513758172841419099_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iUBsownvN4g/VH0qutMYQkI/AAAAAAAAA6I/p3IjIKMJep8/s1600/10363324_10154321429080582_5513758172841419099_n.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a>Our tour guides/snorkeling instructors at Esperanza Tours were amazing. We became BFFs with them. They came recommended by the Sunwing representative that helped us book our adventures. On the day we toured the city, our tour guide, Marcos, told us that the next day he was visiting his friend, the woman from Sunwing who had recommended them to us. So the day after our fun tour with Marcos we went to go say hi to her at the hotel and ask how her visit was, which both pleased and embarrassed her greatly, and she proceeded to tell us how Marcos thanked her for sending such nice, friendly girls to him! What a guy. Marcos took us on a tequila tasting tour where we tasted fifteen-year-aged tequila and other delicious desert tequilas, as well as a botanical garden tour with more cacti than you thought existed, and showed us around a glass blowing factory where we saw them make a tequila drinking frog (classic) and for the first time in his tour guide career Marcos broke something. You know what they say, you break it, you run... or buy it. So he bought it. It reminded me of that expression, a bull in a china shop. Only I don't think bulls get so embarrassed when they break stuff. They do it for fun. I was just glad and pleasantly surprised that it wasn't me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On Lover's Beach, probably not long after the peeing incident</td></tr>
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We also made friends with our snorkeling instructor Luis. There is a very funny story there that I'm just not sure I can tell. Wait, who am I kidding, it's me we're talking about. When we came onto the shore after snorkeling I had to go pee and I had gotten so cold in the water I didn't want to go back in. So I decided to climb these rocks, see, just behind the beach area but in full view of the shore. Don't worry, I went high enough that I could hide behind a rock and no one could see me. Luis, however, decided it would be a good idea to follow me. Thankfully he was literally like a fish out of water trying to climb those rocks, so he had his head down the whole time. Just as he was about to look up, I finished peeing, and slyly manoeuvred myself a few feet away as if I was just admiring the view. Of course we then continued to have a great conversation about God and life, became good friends, and a few days after I returned home I told him the whole story. Needless to say there were a lot of "jajajaja's" in his response. (I was really worried after the hurricane in Los Cabos in September, named "Hurricane Odile," and was waiting for two weeks for him to get internet service to make sure he was ok. He is, don't worry.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Mexico, hippies are called "cactus huggers"</td></tr>
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Another funny story, I decided to take my sleep apnea machine with me to Mexico. Poor Katie got a first hand look at what I like to call my "Darth Vader" mask every night. The mask hooks up to a small machine that blows air into my nose and forces me to breath while I sleep, in case, you know, I forget. If I open my mouth the air comes rushing out. One morning she told me how terrified she in the middle of the night when she woke up and felt her bed shaking (we never heard there was an earthquake but there might have been) and then she heard me talking in my sleep. I was thinking, well that's not so scary, unless I said something like "You're pregnant" or "There is a clown puppet in the corner watching you." (I don't know which one is scarier.) I asked what I said and she replied, "I don't know. You were speaking Parseltongue. It's a good thing you didn't say any real words or I think I would have had a heart attack." And it's true, it sounds exactly like the snake language from Harry Potter. So really, Katie almost died in Mexico too.<br />
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-78761312299132498982014-10-10T18:10:00.001-07:002014-10-10T18:28:47.542-07:00This is Not an Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been too long. No I'm not kidding, it's now been so long that it's too long and I no longer care. I used to feel this heavy burden - this heavy bloggy-monkey on my back - but it's actually been so long I just gave up. It's wonderful. You should try it, in life. I'm free! Because despite how much I love to write, writing feels like work and any extra work just sounds... like work. Know what I'm saying? So when I have some spare time and I'm tired, which is always, am I like, "What do I feel like doing right now, hmm let's see, how about some work?" NO! Don't be stupid! I'm not. I'm not like that. No tired person ever says, "Please, give me some more things I don't feel up to do doing." Ask a tired person how they are doing and if they say good, they are saying good-despite-how-freaking-tired-I-am. Ask them the number one thing they wish they were doing right now and if they say something other than sleeping, A. they aren't tired enough or B. they are lying to make you happy. Both of which are nice. A is nicer. I have some good news. I've been using a sleep apnea machine for almost five months and finally, finally, I feel like it is making a difference. My world is slowly getting a teeny bit less tired. How do you measure such things? Simple. It starts with a day. A ridiculously tired day that helps me compare my not as tired days previous to this day and realize that this used to be my normal. I compare the tired I used to be to my new tired and it astounds me. How can anyone LIVE when they are that tired? Let me tell you: it's exhausting. Since then a few encouraging things have confirmed this revelation: my eyes don't ache as much as they used to and people have commented that I seem less tired and look less tired. Now getting out of bed in the morning is usually not pure torture and I am not as terrified of killing someone when I get behind the wheel. Note: not as. I am in no way where I want to be. I'm still surviving, but before I was floundering, nearly drowning, and now I am doing awkward froggy strokes. So I was Flounder from Little Mermaid before and now I am the Frog Princess. See the difference? I just like to relate everything to Disney if I can. It helps me understand. But I will keep dreaming: some day I want to do real people swimming. Some day I want to make it to the shore. (Wait, is the shore death? In which case, good news! I will for sure make that. Unless Jesus comes back. Either way I win.)<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pbpdgy1gLkM/VDc9K2Yw18I/AAAAAAAAA4Q/R5AwaeqOOl4/s1600/tumblr_m7vr4do4dn1rrzx66o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pbpdgy1gLkM/VDc9K2Yw18I/AAAAAAAAA4Q/R5AwaeqOOl4/s1600/tumblr_m7vr4do4dn1rrzx66o1_500.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a>I got a new roommate. She's lovely and cute. Only one problem: she's cuter than me. Not cool. And in my own home too. <i>Isn't any place sacred</i>? Somehow it doesn't seem to matter when it comes to animals though. Funny, I've never resented an animal for being cuter than me. Huh. I guess they distract you so well with their cuteness that you don't actually notice that in fact it is pure subterfuge. Someone should write a book on that. It should be called, <i>The Hypnotic Cuteness of Animals, or</i> <i>Beware of their Hoodoo Voodoo</i>. On that note, I have been missing my dog like crazy. I had this nice little break where I forgot that my dog was dead - not that I didn't remember she died, just that I forgot there was something missing in my life. It was nice. Now that I've remembered that in fact my dog is dead, that in fact, my life used to be full of Kezzieness and ultimate cuteness, and now in fact it is not, it makes my life seem a little... less. When (in fact) (I like to keep things factual) the wonderful thing is that I had this amazing one-of-a-kind dog that God gave me for 17 years! When in fact (obviously), I was perfectly happy before she came along, and when she did, she increased my quality of life ten-fold and gave me more than I could ever ask for. And as much as I wish animals could live as long as humans, in a way I'm glad they can't. They are so vulnerable to all the evil in this world and I would hate to ever think of outliving her and leaving her behind. It's like the Left Behind Series only Jesus hasn't come back. Everything seems to come around to the fact (another one) that Jesus hasn't come back yet. It's almost like if He did, things would be better. Hard to say... Anyway, better that my dog only live 17 years, knowing she had a wonderful, compact little life, then extend that to 100 and know that any number of things could happen to her. Besides, animals don't need to live that long: they have nothing new to learn about what life is all about and how to live it to the fullest. They are not on a journey of self-discovery and character building. They're just here for a short trip to make our lives better and teach us how to love.<br />
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If this were an update, which it's not, I should probably let you know I've come through quite a few fruit-fly epidemics - murdering whole generations of fruit-fly families with my bare hands and feeling great about it. I know in school they teach that genocide is bad, but, like, were they thinking of fruit-flies at the time? No, they weren't. Guaranteed. However, I've really got a handle on those silverfish that were plaguing my life (I found cardboard boxes flattened under the couch that were their nesting ground and disposed of them forthwith. You should have seen all the babies I killed. Yeah. You heard me. I killed babies). And I haven't been doing anything really stupid at work lately to feel guilty about, like standing on recycling boxes to block freezing cold vents. Also we moved to the other side of the building, AKA "The Great Trek: Out of Antarctica into... THE TROPICS." Amazing that in the same, albeit, giant room you can have two completely different ecosystems. It's a small world, as they say. And I'm making friends at work, real ones, and no one is evening paying them to be my friend, they just happen to be paid to be there and I get to take advantage of the fact that they have no choice but to see me every day. It's great. I didn't post a single thing this summer and feel perfectly fine about it. But if this were an update, which it's not, I guess I better do a quick summary: my summer was good... Oh sorry, you were expecting more. Well I spent all my money before the summer started when I went to Mexico so the actual summer was uneventful. I was going to talk more about this Mexican experience of mine, however I realize it should probably be it's own blog post so I'm not going to tell you all the fantastic things I learned in Mexico right now. Instead I will write a blog post called, "All the Fantastic Things I Learned in Mexico."<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vsaj99DIpcU/VDc9NyXU2wI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/JXRYUNckqC0/s1600/tumblr_mrtzhhxqUz1soojiro1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vsaj99DIpcU/VDc9NyXU2wI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/JXRYUNckqC0/s1600/tumblr_mrtzhhxqUz1soojiro1_500.jpg" height="217" width="320" /></a>Later in the summer I forced my family to go camping which was also pretty great (no one died!). I promise you they thanked me for forcing them later and I gloated lots. And then they took it back. At the end of the summer - per usual - I went to Camp Imadene and had a love-ly time: loving people and loving God and loving life. And I've been going to an amazing woman's Bible Study for quite a few months now called Ladies Night where we cry and stuff and don't even care. I even have a shirt: "I cried at Ladies Night." Most people get confused when they see this and think I had a desperate clubbing experience at 919 and don't understand why I wear the shirt with such pride. Because of this I've mostly stopped wearing it in public. Also it's a tank-top. So only my summer self has to suffer the confused stares and too-personal questions. But these women in my Ladies Night, let me tell you, these new (and many not new) friends... they are amazing. I am amazing just by being part of them. I'm serious, you come to this group and just by being in the same room <i>you become amazing too</i>. You could be the most annoying person on the planet - don't sweat it! We'll make an amazing woman out of you yet! And if you are a man? Too bad! You're a woman now! Embrace it! We learn about God together and talk about how wonderful He is and just generally enjoy being in His presence together and being in each other's presence, which is a lot like opening presents. Every week. And I like presents. For example, for my birthday I asked for a pony. I didn't get one (AGAIN), but I mean I'm not giving up yet. It's been 27 years of persistent birthday lists with the first item stating: PONY, so why stop now? Plus that way no one can ever say that annoying line people love to say when they can't be bothered to think what to get you for your birthday: "You're so hard to buy for." My answer is, "No I'm not. I make it real easy for you: I've asked for the same thing for 27 years. Simple. A pony." And then they say, "A pony is not a simple present." And I say, "Have you been talking to my dad? Was he saying ridiculous things again like "Faith you can't afford a pony," and "Faith, you don't have a yard" because when he says those things just say to him, "Dad, don't be a dream-buster. Sure, be a ball-buster all you want - go ahead, bust those balls, I don't care, I don't have any - but for the love of ponies, don't bust my dreams." " And that is usually the end of that conversation.<br />
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So IF I was giving you an update - what I mean is, if the entire point of this blog post was just to give you a stupid update on my life (which it's not, obviously), but even if it was - I don't know why anyone would want one, let's be honest here - it would all come down to this: I have some friends, and my mom likes me. The end.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-18821023425069189342014-04-25T18:55:00.000-07:002014-10-09T18:16:43.056-07:00Milk, Sapiens and Sexuals: ALL the Homos!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're right, God DOES hate cigarettes. But you shouldn't be smiling. <br />
Cigarettes kill.</td></tr>
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I've felt incredibly compelled to write this blog post for a long time now. Because if the real Bible-following Christians don't stand up, the Eminem ones will. You can be as against homosexuality as you want to be, I don't give a flying fish. But unfortunately most Christians against homosexuality don't know how to separate their own personal beliefs from what the Bible actually says. What I mean is, the Bible is fairly clear that homosexuality in some form is a sin. The Bible is also very clear that lying is a sin. And greed. And that just thinking about having an affair is considered as bad as actually doing the deed. It is also incredibly clear that Jesus died for all sins because He absolutely, positively loves all people. I cannot express to you how stupid any Christian is who could even think, let alone say, "God hates homosexuals." God might hate homosexuality you silly goose (and I'm not even convinced He does), but He sure as heck doesn't hate homosexuals. If that is true, good luck getting into heaven. I talked to St. Peter and he said stupidity is actually a worse sin than homosexuality. He picked it out of a bowl at random, but he's firm on it.<br />
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Why do Christians love to focus on homosexuality? It's like some kind of bizarre fetish. Now if that doesn't sound sinful I don't know what does. Why aren't they focusing on well, basically anything God focused on? Because He sure as heck didn't focus on homosexuality. Here's what Jesus had to say about homosexuality: oh wait... nothing. Here's what He said about hypocrisy: well, it would just be easier for you to read the entire Gospels than listing all the times He told off the Pharisees. It makes me wonder, these gay-hating Christians, have they even read the Bible? If so, which version exactly are they reading? Because I feel like the translation might be a little off. How in the world do you ever plan on bringing anyone to know the love of Jesus by proclaiming that "God hates..." instead of "God loves"? I want to ask them, "Do we know the same God? Because I feel like yours is... different." But maybe I've got them all wrong. Maybe they're talking about a different god when they say "God hates gays." Like Zeus for instance. Man, I would not be at all surprised if that guy is a total homophobe. He just has anger-management written all over his face, in lightning bolt scars. Anyway, I for one want God to use me, not work extremely hard to get around me and heal the massive damage I've done to people's hearts by the incredibly stupid, ludicrous things I've said or done in the name of God - who is Love itself. I was going to post all the times God mentions homosexuality in the Bible (which I could, because there aren't that many) but seriously just read your freaking Bible. Now, I know there are a lot of Christians who agree with me for the most part, but they think that as long as they sit there and don't do any damage, they aren't part of the problem. Is that really all you want to be? You see, there are always going to be crazy Christians out there doing so much damage that unfortunately the rest of us can't just sit back and keep our heads down. Instead we need to love so much and so loudly that we counteract the idiots flailing around with Bibles they have obviously never read. Don't get me wrong, I love those idiots. Their parents were probably idiots too and passed it down to them. It's a vicious cycle of idiocy.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n2u0C911_68/U1sBZRhSx5I/AAAAAAAAAzo/kJSk09mdtt0/s1600/01homosexuality1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n2u0C911_68/U1sBZRhSx5I/AAAAAAAAAzo/kJSk09mdtt0/s1600/01homosexuality1.jpg" height="320" width="287" /></a>I personally used to have a problem with homosexuality. It made me feel really... weird. And then I met people who said they were gay and heard their story and I knew they were absolutely no different than I was. So why did it make me feel weird? Because the only way I could try to understand was by imagining what it would be like to be in love romantically with the same sex. And that felt really weird... and revolting = I'm straight. Yay! Life is easier for me! I was also weirded out as child even thinking that I could have been created by my parents having sex. I still am... in fact I'm convinced a stork brought me. That would explain a lot. Children delivered by storks are bound to be a little... odd. One thing that made me realize I needed to get over my weirdness was that I knew for a fact that there were men and women out there who were born with the brain/body of the opposite sex, or hermaphrodites who were born with both sex organs. If I knew this to be a <i>fact</i>, how could I ever conclude that one person fit this description and one did not? In which case, I COULD NEVER JUDGE. It no longer mattered whether I understood how two people loving each other, even if they were the same sex, could possibly be a sin. It didn't matter whether I believed practicing homosexuality was the sin, and not the sexual orientation itself. It did not matter whether it still grossed me out. As long as there was the possibility of doubt, that I didn't actually know if it was genetics, upbringing or just plain choice, I COULD NEVER JUDGE. And that let me open up my heart to realize that it was actually, absolutely none of my business. It was between them and God. Which let me trust God implicitly: I no longer had to question whether God was fair because some things in His word didn't make sense to me. He knew every heart and I didn't even know my own half the time.<br />
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People say, "Love the sinner, hate the sin" which is great, but I think as long as we continue to choose not to understand the person behind the sin (or what we consider sin) we are still going to judge them. We judge what we don't understand. So instead how about trying to understand how difficult it must be to realize at any point in your life that you are different than almost everyone around you and that most people you tell this to are going to look down on you instead of loving you as you try to not to drown in the confusion of figuring out one of the most important things in your life: your sexuality. I mean, sex still confuses me. You put what in the what with the who now??? I wonder too, if those hateful Christians know just how many homosexuals have been sexually abused as children. And you are going to tell these abused children that God hates them? Good idea! Why don't you go steal from an orphanage while you're at it. God loves that. Don't you think you might be a little sexually confused too if someone had abused you when you were the most vulnerable and impressionable? And for everyone who can understand someone being gay but can't understand people who are bisexual, don't you think it might be a little bit confusing if you were attracted to both sexes? Think about it, now your potential soul-mate could be any person on the entire planet. I mean just the anxiety of that alone would make anyone choose a side. Yeah. That's right. Okay maybe not, but the point is, these are people who are struggling to understand who they are. Don't you think, if they could simply <i>choose</i> to be "normal" and live an easier life, they would? The thing is, we don't have to understand it, we just have to leave the judging to God. And we have a pretty good idea from the Bible what He will be judging more than anything else: our hearts. Besides I would way rather spend my time hanging out with a group of LGTB peeps (who are usually very nice people because they know what it's like to be an outsider and therefore have developed that part of their brain where this thing called "compassion" lives) than a Christian who says they hate gays. In fact, you will find that most gays don't actually hate Christians. I have no idea why. I guess they are just smart enough to realize that we are not all the same.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You don't have to agree with this to see it makes some good points.</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-36983928588427111452014-03-05T19:24:00.001-08:002014-04-11T20:53:22.094-07:00New Best Friends My Mom Hasn't Paid Off<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GpM8FmUboY0/UxfhsHnjS-I/AAAAAAAAAys/hvbtpxX91a8/s1600/3-zoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GpM8FmUboY0/UxfhsHnjS-I/AAAAAAAAAys/hvbtpxX91a8/s1600/3-zoo.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It needs to be at least three times this big!</td></tr>
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My room-mate comes back from New Zealand today. Not only did she go traveling by herself (unsafe) she left me with the place to myself for a month (unsafe). Or so I thought... (not that it was unsafe, I knew that, but that I was alone). I discovered there are teeny little ants in my kitchen, usually only about three at a time, and well... I love them. At first I thought they were a nuisance - I was accustomed to squishing giant ants at my old place which made a nice crunching sound - so I flicked one of these little ants off the counter and then instantly felt remorse as I watched it's minuscule little body soar across the kitchen. I actually got depressed. You see, they look like baby ants, and I love babies. Plus there are so few ants at one time that it's hard to see them as pests and not, well, visitors. Would I flick my visitors away? (Depends on the visitor). Would I flick my baby visitors away? (No! Shaken baby syndrome, hello!) Anyway I noticed when Krista left I started talking to my ant visitors. It just happened all of a sudden, like it was completely natural to start talking to ants. I heard myself say "Hi," and felt ridiculous for a second then got over it a little too quickly for a sane person and shouted, "Oh no!" when I noticed one got stuck in a drop of water, or to them, a giant lake that came out of nowhere. I like to imagine they are the same ants each time and that they now recognize my voice and will come when I beckon them. I think I'm going insane. I feel quite fond of my ants. To the point where I feel bad when I clean the counter because then there won't be any food for them. To the point where I saw one of the ants carrying a quite large crumb and felt ridiculously proud of him. To the point where I thought I crippled one with a tub of flour and felt sick seeing him hobble away. I wonder if I'm trying to fill the void that losing my dog has left. If I am, it's going to take quite a few ants. Kezzie was a small dog, but she was at least fifty times bigger. And fluffy. And adorable. And oh gosh I miss her...<br />
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Abruptly and insensitively moving on once again, the strange thing is, I also have other visitors and <i>I despise them</i>. <i>Silverfish</i>. I see one and I instantly murder it. But can they help how creepily they run along? Can they help that they are called Silverfish which somehow seems extra creepy? (I hear Silverfish and I think, "You're a fish! You should be in water! You have no business having those extremely fast moving legs.") No. They can't. What is this hypocrisy inside of me? How deep does it go? I don't know. But I also plan on continuing to kill my Silverfish without remorse and I plan on saying "hi" to my ant friends when I get home and maybe making a mess on purpose to help them feed their massive family. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gtN7fPEzTUE/Uxfjs04TQWI/AAAAAAAAAzA/EMsc2nPHWgc/s1600/little-blocks-mod-letting-silverfish-play-minecraft-since-2011_o_2047159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gtN7fPEzTUE/Uxfjs04TQWI/AAAAAAAAAzA/EMsc2nPHWgc/s1600/little-blocks-mod-letting-silverfish-play-minecraft-since-2011_o_2047159.jpg" height="320" width="280" /></a>Now, I haven't really wanted to blog, because I often feel that it is quite self-centered, and I question whether I only enjoy it for the attention (I am a notorious attention-seeker). I mean, why else would someone write a blog about their own life? Who cares about the crazy things I think and say and do? And yet there are people who actually do, and that amazes me. So I'll keep writing them, but they will be peppered with confessions of my failings and examples of how when Faith tries to bring attention to herself, she fails. Just think of it this way, Faith = failure. Oh no, that won't work. Dang you real-word names, always confusing my identity! As a child I didn't even know what gender I was, I thought I was just a spiritual concept. No wait, that's not it, I thought I was going to turn into a boy. Close though. Anyway, the point is when I try to bring attention to myself I fall on my face, which works really well for the attention-seeking aspect, but when I try to bring attention to God, I always succeed, even if it isn't always obvious to my short-sighted eyes (I'm not actually short-sighted, my vision is fine, it just happens to be stuck in a seriously limited human body). So here goes, I've noticed I've been careless with my words lately and
hurting people's feelings that I had no intention of hurting. I felt
like I was getting better at taming my tongue and it is always
discouraging when I back track and need to apologize, which I always try
to do. It's usually in an attempt to be funny; words that seem harmless
at the time but only end up tearing people down instead of building
them up. I want to be a builder. God isn't calling Bob-the-Crushers, He's
calling Bob-the-Builders (wait, what? He is? Bob-the-Builder is actually a missionary called to do relief work in underprivileged neighborhoods for God? Who knew). I just finally apologized to a coworker about something I said a long time ago that has been weighing on my conscience (something
to do with sewing to which I said, "Where did you learn to do that, your
mom?" which I don't even know how it was funny at the time, but it was,
trust me.) You should have seen how happy he was when I apologized. Not
only could he not believe I was still thinking about that but that I
would bother to apologize for something so trivial. I went from making a
bad impression, one of the only ones I've made with him, to making a
very good impression and a new friend, not that you can really trust what I say
about friends. Example: the ants.<br />
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The cruelty of the world is making me think it's time for another all-inclusive vacation, I mean, it's been 26 years since my last one (the womb). Also, FUN FACT ABOUT FAITH: I have never been outside of the country. The furthest point I have been from my birth place of Victoria is Fort St. John. Yeah. Real exciting. My family didn't have money to go on vacations growing up and I went right from high school to university, amassing a fortune in debt, and haven't had money to travel since. I still don't. The difference is I'm going anyway. Hurrah! Where am I going? Pssh, where does anyone go with no money who wants to mindlessly indulge themselves and/or escape government persecution? MEHICO! This is an exciting thing for me, this travelling thing. Now when I say "travel" I mean laying on the beach in the sun and eating lots of food. I don't actually mean furthering my education of a different culture and place. The good news is this Paleo diet has made me lose weight unintentionally, so I've got some real growing room. I plan on doing legitimate travelling some day too, don't worry, just not when I'm travelling with another inexperienced young, female traveller to a country known for it's successful drug cartels and kidnapping abilities. However, apparently Mexico has launched an anti-kidnapping agency! Unfortunately the next headline on Google says, "<a href="http://world.time.com/2014/01/17/mexico-drug-war-kidnapping/">Mexico: War on Drug Cartels Leads to Rise in Kidnappings</a>." You win some, you lose some. All I know is, I'm taking some time off to do nothing, and I promised myself that the next time I go to Mexico, it won't be for an all-inclusive vacation and it won't be to travel. It will be to help people who could never in their lifetime afford an all-inclusive vacation. Of course, I won't mention that technically I can't afford it right now either, the point is that I will be able to afford it, with just a little (or, you know, a lot) of saving up, and there's people who don't even have enough to feed their families (I instantly thought of the ants. I think I really am going insane). I think I might still have some money in my piggy-bank, unfortunately I might have to use the special limited-time Olympic quarters I collected back when I thought it would be cool to collect limited-time Olympic quarters.<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-83740137542033253482014-02-06T18:32:00.000-08:002014-02-06T18:41:10.556-08:00Life Update Blog Post of Life<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZH1UYVr_Gn0/UvL7S06VmrI/AAAAAAAAAyM/SVRkOCzQXQc/s1600/funny-puppies-asleep-floor-cute.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZH1UYVr_Gn0/UvL7S06VmrI/AAAAAAAAAyM/SVRkOCzQXQc/s1600/funny-puppies-asleep-floor-cute.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a>It’s been awhile. I'm not apologizing, just stating a fact,
and acknowledging the absence of that extra bit of joy in your life that you've
been missing (my blog posts). <o:p></o:p></div>
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People ask me what I've been up to (do they? I had to think
about that for a second. Yes, yes they do) and I try to think of what I can say
besides “work.” And really when I think about it, what I've been doing is
surviving. That is my life: survival of the not-so-fittest.<br />
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I made some
resolutions for the new year, something I rarely ever do. Most people
are all about making resolutions. I just find if I don't make them, then life is a lot less disappointing. Win, win. One
of my resolutions was to write more blog posts (I actually just made that up
right now, that wasn’t one of them). Another resolution was to go on the Paleo
diet. You see, I’ve become obese in the past year and… Just kidding! Psych!
It’s not a weight-loss diet, it’s a health diet. I want to figure out once and
for all why I am chronically “bunged up” as they say (do they still say that?
They shouldn’t). Yes I admit it, unashamedly (I also wrote an entire blog post
about it so it probably isn’t news to you, you can read it here: <a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/2012/01/potty-talk.html">Potty Talk</a>), well, a little ashamedly… Anyway, I started the diet the second week of January and have only cheated twice: once when my dog died...</div>
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This is the part where I talk about how my dog died. That was sad. Really, really sad. I'm still mourning her and every day I miss her. She was the best dog I ever had (she was the only dog I ever had) and she was my baby (technically she was given to my brother and I, however she clearly preferred my mom over anyone in the world which made me jealous on many occasions and slightly bitter until I looked into her eyes and CURSE YOU CUTENESS! she relentlessly hypnotized me into forgiving her). Seventeen years of my life were spent loving that dog and I don't regret a minute of it, even if a lot of it was simply procrastinating from doing chores, or anything for that matter, and instead was spent fawning over her and talking to her in that ridiculous voice that you can't help using which is usually accompanied by that intense feeling all over that makes you clench your teeth together to refrain from squishing them to death. You know what I'm talking about. If you don't, I'm sincerely sorry, it's increased my quality of life exponentially. I feel sure I'll see her in heaven, you can't tell me I won't, you would simply be guessing (as am I), whereas all the rational is in my favor (why wouldn't God want all His creatures in heaven? They're all made unique and we know from the Bible that He cares for all of them on earth and that there are animals in heaven. What, so God is going to make new animals just for the sake of having animals in heaven and say no to the amazing animals He already made? What because heaven isn't big enough? Give me a break. Just because your mind can't handle the idea of eternity and a God who makes space out of air doesn't mean you should make the rest of us feel bad. There. I said it.) Anyway, I will always miss her. We called her "boozum spow" as kids (don't ask). I called her muffin and my dad called her Pigmaleon. But mostly I will miss just saying her name: Kezzie. The cutest, nicest, most beloved dog in the world. Me and my old BFF Chelsea used to play a game called "One puppy on the go," which consisted of us running a relay with Kezzie as the baton and said, "One puppy on the go.. two puppy on the go!" etcetera. It's like Count Dracula but with puppies. Yay! Anyway as Kezzie lay dying I whispered in her ear, "<i>One puppy on the go!</i>" and I knew she was going home, to her Creator, where she truly belonged.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SuzftFeWJP4/UvL7S2R0gMI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/3t-vwQUSmHc/s1600/paleo_food_pyramid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SuzftFeWJP4/UvL7S2R0gMI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/3t-vwQUSmHc/s1600/paleo_food_pyramid.jpg" height="320" width="300" /></a>And the next time I cheated was at my friend Erin's bachelorette party. Because, how could I not? The cookies were sailor-themed. Sorry, was that a difficult transition? Sometimes I can be insensitive. It was just too sad so out of self-defense my subconscious changed the topic abruptly before I burst into tears. But moving on a little less insensitively, after the loss of my beloved dog cheating on my diet made a lot of sense. So does cheating for sailor cookies. So far the Paleo diet is definitely working. I also wanted to rule out once
and for all that my chronic fatigue/sleep problem/LTS (Leg Twitching Syndrome,
which is actually called Periodic Limb Movement Disorder) is food-related. Something is making
me twitch in my sleep, and the only way to rule out if it is something I’m
eating and shouldn’t be is to go to extremes. Hence, <i>the Paleo</i>. It's no crazier than those people who suffered severe back pain for years until they finally decided to go on an elimination diet and found out it was allergy to wheat. What is the Paleo Diet? Well the most succinct
explanation is no grains, no dairy (which I'm already allergic to), no sugar and no processed food; basically going back
to the hunter and gatherer diet. This is helpful: <a href="http://www.nerdfitness.com/blog/2010/10/04/the-beginners-guide-to-the-paleo-diet/">The Beginner's Guide to Paleo</a>.
You may think, “But wait, she’s a vegetarian!” and I would say, “Actually I’m a
pescatarian. Like a sectarian but with a "p." " I say I'm a vegetarian because no one knows what a freaking pescatarian is and I always sound like an idiot or a pretentious hippy. Basically, I eat fish. Let me tell you, I tried being a vegan, but heck, that was hard... And that's the end of that story.</div>
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But who cares what diet I’m on and whether I am going to the washroom more frequently than I ever have since birth. I mean I do, I care. A lot. But anyway let’s
move on and talk about my sad little sleep-deprived life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Did you know that sleep deprivation is a form of torture
used alongside water-boarding? Yeah, that’s right. Every day I am exhausted. I
am exhausted right now, and it is incredibly difficult to concentrate, hence,
why I haven’t been blogging, or writing my book. Hence why I say my life
consists of “surviving.” It is much easier to not-write, to passively take in,
which comes to my other resolution. I have dared myself this year to
give up TV for X amount of months. Basically I couldn’t say how long, I was
afraid to say anything at all, so I dared myself that once I started I was
going to do it as long as I possibly could. Unfortunately it didn’t last
long as I realized it was quite unnecessary and instead I just needed to give up
TV on week nights. Now listen, I am not a TVaholic, but I
have a very small amount of time to live in, the rest of that time I am either
working, eating or sleeping, so every second counts. Especially now that I switched shifts at work and now work from 11 am - 7 pm. This means I get an extra hour to sleep and will hopefully stop missing work so I don’t, you know, get fired, and so far it has been successful: I am still employed. It has meant I can’t really do much week nights, but hey! I often made plans during week nights in the naïve hope I wouldn’t be too tired to do them and then had to cancel anyway because… I was too tired to do them. And when I say “too tired” I mean I would be a danger on the road. There’s been many times where I have driven when I shouldn’t have because I was so tired. Why? Because it is so hard to miss out all the time, and it is so hard to say no, and I hate disappointing people, so I just say a prayer that I won’t die, or kill anyone, and hope for the best. So far so good!</div>
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Anyway, calm down, it’s okay, there are many, many occasions where I do say no (or say yes then decide that's it's not safe and say no), where I do miss out and I do disappoint people. Yaaayyy… On the bright side I have an awesome job, an awesome place to live, awesome friends and family and I recently acquired a good working car for $200. Yeah, that's right. God is blessing me just like I was told He would on the Auxano graduation night by an amazing prayer warrior named Tim Parker.<br />
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And I FINALLY got another appointment at the Nanaimo Sleep
Clinic. Last year after finding out I had LTS, I mean Periodic Limb Movement
Disorder, they gave me a kind of Parkinson’s medication to try and said if it
didn’t work there were more options. It didn’t work. (You can read all about my ten years + journery here: <a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/2012/08/leg-tourrettes-or-why-im-so-freaking.html">Leg Tourrettes or Why I'm So Freaking Tired</a>). Then they changed my next appointment
date and, unfortunately, only had my home phone number, whilst I was up at
Auxano, not at home, and therefore did not get the message. It meant I drove up
to Nanaimo in someone else’s car just to find out that because I had missed my appointment
I now had
to get a new referral from my doctor, which would mean I would have to wait another
x amount of months for an appointment. On top of that my doctor never did send
the referral I asked for and I had to force them to get me in sooner. I could get really upset about this, but you can’t live that
way. It’s exhausting. And I’m already exhausted.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
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One night when I was contemplating how sad it is that my life consists mainly of survival instead of growth and prosperity, I remembered, “My grace is sufficient for you.” And I repeated it over and over in my head until it became a mantra and I wanted it tattooed in giant letters on my body. I'll let you know how that goes.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>The End</i></span></div>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-5164910097698059712013-10-06T14:24:00.001-07:002013-10-06T14:24:17.905-07:00Accomplishments: My Puny Life<div style="border: medium none;">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1lZV3qYQdis/Uk8KvED7ewI/AAAAAAAAAw4/4nnO0s5alKk/s1600/don-t-keep-calm-it-s-my-26th-birthday-i-m-old.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" closure_lm_586873="null" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1lZV3qYQdis/Uk8KvED7ewI/AAAAAAAAAw4/4nnO0s5alKk/s320/don-t-keep-calm-it-s-my-26th-birthday-i-m-old.png" width="274" xsa="true" /></a>It's my birthday! Or at least it was (the days blur into one another when you are old), and I'm turning quite old. What have I accomplished for myself? Well, not much. I did graduate from university which might actually turn out to be the only acheivement of my life, but I sure as heck hope not, because the main reason I went to university was to write books. And I haven't written any. Or published a single thing for that matter. You might say, why haven't you? And I might say, you know what? Screw you! It's harder than you think. But I wouldn't because I'm nice, and because I don't actually know for myself that it's harder than you think. I just know this information from what other writers have told me again and again and again and again and again. Yes I've submitted a couple things to contests and haven't won any, and one or two stories to magazines but wasn't accepted, but I haven't really put my heart and soul into it. Why you ask? Because it's terrifying to put your heart and soul into something you know has a ten times higher chance of being rejected than accepted. When guys ask out girls they usually calculate their chances and make damn sure the chances are good. If the chances were ten time higher that she will say no than yes, no one would ever ask anyone out. And then no one would get married and the human race would quickly die out (naiive idea of procreation). But, as a seasoned writer (not really, that's some pretty light seasoning, like maybe a dash of curry, the mild kind), aware of the trials of publishing and the hundreds of rejections that you might receive before finally making it big, do I take these rejections to heart? Are you kidding? Of course I do. It's like someone telling you your baby is ugly. Not that I know, I don't have a baby.<br />
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That's the other thing, I have no babies. And for years I was positive I would have like seven babies by now. Granted, those years were the same years when 18 seemed mature (ha, as if!), and 25 seemed like middle age (ha, ha... sad...). But I recently discovered I wouldn't want my life to be any other way than it is right now. I realized with great relief that I would be perfectly happy if I didn't have kids for another decade. Let's take one decade at a time, people. Of course, by then my womb will be starting to shrivel up, but my dad's solution to that is: have a baby now, give it to Mom to take care of, and then you have years and years to have more babies (it's the first birth that can cause all the medical problems if you're passed 35. SCIENTIFIC FACT). Now, I don't know why my dad would be stupid enough to suggest this, unless he is secretly planning a divorce, because if I'm giving my mom a baby to raise, well, um, that would mean he would also have a baby to raise. I miss my parents, now that I'm moved out, I do. And I miss my dog Kezzie (she's super old, 17, older than most people think I am when they guess my age). But I am positively loving the independent life. My roommate is fantastic and I couldn't ask for a better place to live. My job is great too. I work for Telus Sourcing Solutions, but I'm under the Alberta Health Services contract, so it's like this: big Telus outsources to India but has its very own customer service company it can't afford to actually hire, so we get hired by other companies to do their customer service. What does this mean? Big Telus may have shoddy customer service but at least they own one of the best customer service companies in Canada, so that's got to count for something. The contract I work for is, like I said, Alberta Health Services. Apparently when Alberta outsources their customer service they go to BC... so we're like Alberta's India... But what's great is the kind of work I get to do: not selling phones or pushing services, but helping medical professionals with their benefits and pay cheques. As one coworker put it, "We help the people who save the world." Or, er, Alberta. But I've never worked for a company that makes their employees feel so respected and valued. Where I work, I matter. It's probably the best thing you can ask for from an employer. See how God has blessed me with the very things I was so concerned about after Auxano? A job and a place to live? Beyond what I asked for or imagined. He does that, God. I mean, not always - sometimes He has things for you to learn and sometimes you're just plain reaping your own consequences, but when He decides to bless you, He always does it extravagantly. Now you're asking, then why aren't I a millionaire? Don't be stupid. We all know by now that money means absolutely nothing. For goodness sake, two seconds ago the penny was a real thing and now it's just pretend.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c01Cxbb0c90/Uk8eQy7EvTI/AAAAAAAAAxI/53CE_OBz5YA/s1600/funny-kid-mirror-unicorn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-c01Cxbb0c90/Uk8eQy7EvTI/AAAAAAAAAxI/53CE_OBz5YA/s400/funny-kid-mirror-unicorn.jpg" width="282" xsa="true" /></a>But it doesn't matter how many books I've written (none) or how many babies I have (also none), I have accomplished a lot. Everything I've learned, everywhere that I've grown (I don't mean like how my chin hair is steadily getting thicker and turning into a beard that is the envy of all the boys, I mean like character growth), all the people I've positively affected, my family and friends, these are my accomplishments. And what greater accomplishment than my relationship with God, which has grown exponentially and will continue to grow exponentially because at some point you learn as a Christian that <span style="font-size: large;">there is no end to God</span>, and therefore no end to how much you can grow in your relationship with Him. And that is both frightening and wonderful. And so, I don't have to feel a single year was wasted in my - really, let's be serious - <i>puny</i> 26 years of life. Besides, God can return your wasted years. Thankfully, I don't feel He has to. What more could I ask for?<br />
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Now what about my writing you ask? Well, I am going to continue to struggle to write the book I know I need to write no matter how ridiculous it is, and I won't let anybody tell me that writing about unicorns is childish. Of course it's childish, you dumb goose, it's a book for children.</div>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-7337572565121915282013-08-20T17:43:00.001-07:002013-08-20T18:04:49.163-07:00The Break-Up Post<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I recently got dumped. I know. You weren’t expecting that kind of honesty were you. The thing is, we all get dumped at some point or another, and there is no shame in it. Unless you do desperate things to try to win him back, like constantly show up uninvited where you know he'll be or pretend that you're pregnant like Kelly from "The Office" (which would be hard to explain when you're saving yourself for marriage). Then yes, there is shame. Lots of shame. But let me just tell you something you didn’t know: unrequited love sucks. Seriously, you’ve probably never heard that before. Ancient poets steered clear of that subject in the past and current songwriters find that it’s too sensitive a topic to discuss over the radio. So let me guide you from the land of ignorance into the land of enlightenment (which has the word "light" in it, so you know it’s good, whereas ignorance comes from the word "ignoramus." I know, I took Latin in university).
It’s like this, see: here you are walking along the shores of love and happiness when one day the mean, break-up fairy steals away your hopes and dreams with words like, “It’s not you, it’s the person you’re trying so hard to be. I can't stand that person.” Or, “I’m not ready for a relationship. And when I am it sure as heck won’t be with you.” Or “I decided I don’t want to have kids... with you. I don’t want to have kids with you. Sorry, was that unclear?”<br />
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Now that I have tons and tons of relationship experience, let me tell you something else you didn't know: relationships are hard. You thought walking along the shores of love and happiness was all pure sailing (wow, what a terrible mixed metaphor, it's not even practical, who would try to sail on the shore? An idiot that's who, and we're all idiots in love). But no, there are barnacles along the way and pokey rocks and sand gets in your shoes and, if you sit down to take a rest, you get punished for your laziness and sand gets in your shorts too and we all know sand in your shorts makes you <i>so</i> angry and you're probably hungry because your only food source is fish and most of the fish along the shores of love are dead (something to do with they're all burnt out from bad relationships. But why are you eating the fish you might date? Are you a fish too, and a cannibal at that? Or are you interspecies dating and also eating the species you date? It doesn't matter, I'm a creative writer. That means I just get to say things, they don't have to make sense) and at any time a giant wave could come sweep you off your feet... I actually have no idea where I wanted to go with that one. Maybe the wave is death. Maybe it’s true love... Take it as you will, it all really comes down to one thing: life can be hard. And the only way to combat it is to be content with whatever comes your way. For instance, right now, I'm trying my darnedest to soak in how much freedom there is in being single. I only knew this hypothetically before, because I hadn't really been in a relationship. It took being in a relationship and then coming out of one to realize the truth. Not that being with someone can't be freeing too, if it's the right person at the right time in your life. People are constantly deploring their singleness, like to be single is the worst state of being on the planet. And it kind of makes sense. What else in life is greater than that desire to be loved by someone? And if you don't know God, then how would you know that you are already loved by Someone far greater than any man or woman on this earth could ever love you? I would rather be single for the rest of my life than stuck in a relationship I shouldn't be in, even if it's a good one. I would rather be single for the rest of my life than be with someone who didn't want me back.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GKUg1Fkzhuo/UhQD4bRQVaI/AAAAAAAAAvw/qVFsV3oR4qw/s1600/There-are-plenty-of-fish-in-the-sea-460x688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GKUg1Fkzhuo/UhQD4bRQVaI/AAAAAAAAAvw/qVFsV3oR4qw/s400/There-are-plenty-of-fish-in-the-sea-460x688.jpg" width="266" /></a>I didn’t plan on ever going through a break-up. As strange as it sounds I was okay with the idea of waiting for my future husband until I was forty if I had to, and continuing to believe there was something terribly wrong with me (not my looks obviously, I mean my personality). I was okay being ignorant of the pain of a relationship gone wrong. It’s not like I was ignorant of unrequited love or loneliness (however if I could I would have saved myself from that too). People say that the bad things that happened to them are worth it because it made them who they are today. Did it? Or did you just become who you are despite your pretty lousy circumstances? They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. We had to go through two world wars before doctors realized that what doesn’t kill you sometimes gives you Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. That should be the new saying. One thing is for sure, bad things happen but God brings good out of every situation. God doesn’t need bad things to happen to fulfill His goodness. In fact, He’s so good that He doesn’t just bring good out of good situations, He brings good out of the worst of the worst. Just like the verse, “When you are weak, then He is strong,” doesn’t mean that your weakness makes God stronger. God is always strong, we’re just too stupid to recognize it when we're all pumped up on ourselves. As I've heard before, God is a gentleman, He stands at the door and knocks. Sometimes I wish He would ram the door in, but then for all I know I might just get offended that He wasn't gentlemanly. So He waits, and knocks, and often it's when we're at our lowest that we are willing to let Him in for tea. If he rammed the door in, He might have broken the teapot.<br />
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What else have I learned from this terrible, awful, horrible heart-break that I would never go through again even though it made me stronger? How loved I am by friends and family. The fact that anyone would cry <i>for </i>me just because they know what I went through, amazes me. Somehow we're always amazed that others would do things for us that we know we would do for others. What else have I learned? Forgiveness. Forgiving the person who hurt you most. And forgiving yourself for all the mistakes you made along the way. Forgiving them for not realizing sooner the things they realized in the end (because then you would have been saying, “Well why didn’t you realize that from the beginning?” which would take a lot more prophetic power than my coffee at work has). (If that didn't make sense to you, you didn't read my previous post so shame on you for reading this one). (If you did in fact read my previous post and it still doesn't make sense, then I completely understand and I'm sorry. Besides, this isn't a TV mini-series, you really don't miss much when you skip an episode). Forgiving the person for not giving you time to realize those things too. Forgiving them for making promises they had every intention of keeping. Forgiving them, and yourself, for believing things that weren't true. Forgiving them for changing. Forgiving yourself for making anyone's life harder at a Christian camp program for eight months where you were the leader and he was the student and it made everyone else feel super awkward and created unnecessary tension. Oh wait, no, that was just me. That doesn't apply to anyone else.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WN1dxUd1zw8/UhQNwpqJFiI/AAAAAAAAAwI/dWy90hTUw5o/s1600/single-ladies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WN1dxUd1zw8/UhQNwpqJFiI/AAAAAAAAAwI/dWy90hTUw5o/s200/single-ladies.jpg" width="200" /></a>So what do you do when your heart is broken? You give your heart to God and know that He will heal it. You entrust it to God and know that He will never break it. And in the end anything that brings you closer to Him <i>is</i> worth it. It doesn’t mean it had to happen to get you there, that there was no other way for you to be closer to God (although it could mean that, I don't know); it doesn’t mean you would do it over again; it just means that the entire purpose of your life is to bring you closer to God. How you get there is called life. And life is sometimes hard. God knows - seriously, it’s called “The Incarnation” people. And that's my twenty-three cents on relationships.<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-10574880416660836882013-08-08T20:47:00.002-07:002013-08-08T20:47:47.386-07:00Unprophetic Coffee<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Donut Shop. That is the name of the coffee we have at work. That or Arabica. “Arabica” brings to mind coffee from the exotic land of Arabia, such as Saudi. The Donut Shop brings to mind a frightening wannabe version of Tim Horton’s. When people see Arabica brewed they think, “Oh good! Coffee!” When they see The Donut Shop they think, “Oh look, coffee. Well I’m going to die some day.” The thing is, they are both terrible coffee (coffees?). And coffee tastes terrible to begin with. So it’s not like you’re expecting liquid chocolate. The problem is, whether it’s a Donut Shop day or an Arabica day doesn’t actually signify anything. You’d think if it was an Arabica day, it would be a good day, and if it was a Donut Shop day it would be a bad day. But they are just different levels of bad. And besides I have proof that it does not predict the kind of day you have. <br />
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I moved to a place in Gordon Head, right next to Mt. Doug Park. The bus stop is close and I made sure I was there early. EARLY. Do you know what that means to me? Well, in this case, only a couple of minutes, but that’s besides the point (I know for a fact that the expression is “beside the point” but I have been saying “besides the point” for so long that I just plumb refuse to change, for the sake of consistency alone) (I also like the expression “plumb.” I like expressions that I can also eat, I call them “edible expressions," like "don't have a cow" or “good gravy.” Just kidding! I'm a vegetarian). You might be surprised by this but I am not known for my earliness (see post “<a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/2010/12/tardiness.html">Tardiness</a>”). I am not even known for my on-timeness. Well I waited and waited for the bus but it obviously wasn’t coming. I had already been late to work twice. The first time I was late was because I decided to ride my bike to the Royal Oak Exchange from my old place. Well, I’d done it before, so you’d think it wouldn’t be a problem. But this time I decided to take the highway. Which was also the long way. I’m leaving out the part where I never meant to bike all the way to the Royal Oak Exchange, or to even bike on the highway - I was trying to find where the closest bus stop was. Apparently I passed it unawares and just... kept going. If I didn’t die of heat-stroke (it was the hottest day of the summer so far) and pure exhaustion, I nearly died on the highway. I do not recommend it. Some people do it, but they are obviously depressed. Because when those semi’s go by your entire life flashes before your eyes... and you realize what a horrible movie your life would make. The storyline is just totally out of whack, you pretty much live a cycle of repeated mistakes and unassuming joys, and if you don’t get pancaked by a semi, you nearly die of boredom, flashing your life before your eyes AGAIN only this time at least it includes a close shave with a semi (exciting). So, just like I was telling you, that day I didn’t even <i>have</i> coffee, so it didn’t predict anything about how bad the day was.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eF57WKZOITo/UgRlxf-g9tI/AAAAAAAAAvg/HeZKHqPbrYU/s1600/funny_coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eF57WKZOITo/UgRlxf-g9tI/AAAAAAAAAvg/HeZKHqPbrYU/s320/funny_coffee.jpg" width="320" /></a>The second time I was late was because... I can’t remember. Oh wait, now I remember. Because I was early for the bus. Yep. Once again, I was early (and once again that actually only means a couple of minutes) and the bus must have a cruel sense of humor and have come even EARLIER than a couple minutes. Probably three. That day I did have coffee and it was Arabica, which should have proved that it was a good day. It wasn’t. So coming back to my story about being early for the bus yesterday, I waited for that bus until it was almost too late. Finally I sprinted home, tried to wake up my new roommate (Krista) and pathetically plead for a ride to work. I couldn’t do it, I tried and when she didn’t wake up, I felt a great sense of relief and panic at the same time, which was interesting. I grabbed my helmet and hopped on my bike in my sandals and work clothes and pedalled as fast as my little out-of-biking-shape legs could take me. I didn’t think it was possible. I had fifteen minutes to get to the Royal Oak Exchange to catch the number 75. And somehow I made it. Granted I had to leave my bike at the exchange because there were already two bikes on the bike rack, but God must have known, because I happened to have my bike lock still on my bike from the move (I hadn’t bothered to lock it up at my new place). That’s totally God... right? Not stupidity? Well that day, despite being chaotic, turned out to be a miracle day, because I miraculously made it on time. And if I was late just one more time I would have had it recorded as an absence at work. And <i>that </i>day I had The Donut Shop coffee, and it was disgusting, per usual. What is the point of all this? Not much. What can you learn from it? Heck if I know. I still haven’t learnt how to be on time.<br />
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I promise the next post won't be quite so useless. Actually I can't really promise that. Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-44909013059455791372013-06-03T19:46:00.001-07:002013-06-03T20:11:14.819-07:00Limbo<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o528vlSOYqM/Ua1NBJ9sOvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/ZRWoSzZhOgQ/s1600/unicorngirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="335" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o528vlSOYqM/Ua1NBJ9sOvI/AAAAAAAAAlk/ZRWoSzZhOgQ/s400/unicorngirl.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For Steve Fielding</td></tr>
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So, here I am, home alone in my parents house while they're on a cruise to Alaska and the envisioned "party time" turned out to be just a serious food shortage with no money (because no job) and a constant checking the door to make sure it's locked. Except for last night, when I forgot to lock it. My dog doesn't know what happened. You see, she was asleep on the couch when my parents left and as far as she can tell they simply disappeared and left me, the Incompetent One (in her eyes of course), behind. She peed outside my door in defiance. But Lola, my sister's little dog/hamster does that just for kicks. Matt was down from camp for the weekend so I wasn't lonely but he couldn't sleep over (because it looks bad and why put yourself in the way of temptation?), and there is something about being in a house on your own, waking up in the middle of the night and waiting to hear the comforting sound of intense snoring when all you get is silence. After a great weekend together with Matt I messed up our plans and we missed lunch with Matt's family in Duncan. We had Subway instead and I was ragging on the falseness of the "eat fresh" motto (I may have said "Eat fresh my butt" only in not as nice words) when I realized that the reason my sub sucked so much was actually because I forgot to get any condiments on it. We did get to hang out with Matt's family, who I really love, but not for long before I had to go down for a nap just so I could safely drive my sister's car back to Victoria. How much more pathetic can you get? I don't know. I would hate to see it. It might actually be right now. I'm in my pajamas and it's past dinner time and I haven't gone outside yet...<br />
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My life is in limbo right now, not just because my parents left me to go on a cruise, but because I am still waiting on a job prospect. It's been a month and a week since Auxano ended and I wish I could say I had accomplished a lot of other things, but the sad truth is I've mostly been sleeping. And watching Downton Abbey (it's so good!) and now that it's over mostly just sleeping. A little writing, trying to get some exercise and hang out with friends, reading my Bible and praying but mostly sleep, sleep, sleep and never really feeling any less tired. Despite the depressingness of that fact, I'm still dreading going back to work. The alternative to not sleeping is being awake. Oh gosh. Yes, I do hear myself. At least now when I feel like I'm going to pass out I have the wonderful satisfaction of going back to sleep. At work when I try that on my desk they think it's rude. I don't mind it though, being home alone, without a job, constantly feeling ridiculous for missing my boyfriend who is actually doing real work up at camp. I mean I'm old
enough to live on my own now, right? WRONG! I am just as capable of burning the house down
as ever. Those little pictures above the stove top are freaking
confusing. Which one is on top and which one is on the bottom????
Anyway, we're both safe and sound, my dog and I, don't worry. I put her out to pee and everything. Of course, she's constantly afraid for her
life but luckily she is so old now she has forgotten why already. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-awSPulnFP5s/Ua1UOBytbDI/AAAAAAAAAlw/QnEAjhHeQXI/s1600/gas_oven_large_BW.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-awSPulnFP5s/Ua1UOBytbDI/AAAAAAAAAlw/QnEAjhHeQXI/s320/gas_oven_large_BW.png" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For Shayla Broda</td></tr>
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So what is the point? Well, the point is, I am savoring this time. I am flat broke but God has been so good (because that's who He is: good) and provided everything just when I needed it, not that God is supposed to do that. There's many reasons why He wouldn't. Tim Parker, the amazing prayer warrior who taught us at Auxano, told me at the graduation night that God wanted me to know He saw my faithfulness up at Auxano and He wanted to reward me, but I needed to be patient and have faith, it was going to take a little while. Why did God do that? He didn't have to tell me that. And that's what makes me feel so incredibly loved. He didn't have to but He did. So I'm waiting, patiently, faithfully, trusting Him and sleeping lots. I knew I was taking a big chance going up to Auxano to volunteer, but I also knew God was bigger and I said to Him, "Well, if I go, I hope you're going to provide for me." And He hasn't let me down. Of course, my biggest, possibly naive, wish going to Auxano was that I would be able to get my chronic fatigue sorted out. That taking iron supplements or whatever I needed would finally fix my sleeping problems after going to the Sleep Clinic and finding out about my TLS (Twitchy Leg Syndrome, a name which I made up, read post <a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/2012/08/leg-tourrettes-or-why-im-so-freaking.html">Leg Tourette's, Or Why I'm So Freaking Tired</a>). I was hoping that coming back from Auxano I would be ready to enter the "real" world again (because camp is totally fake. No one is real there. They are all actually just inflatable dummies that can be used as complimentary flotation devices in the lake. Just kidding!). But I am going to just have to trust God again. Go figure. It's almost like that is what life is about. Trust that He will carry me through like He did at my previous job, where every day was a struggle. This is not supposed to be a depressing blog post, but it is real. Life is freaking hard. That's what heaven is for.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-50285990946056858862013-05-01T22:30:00.000-07:002013-05-06T23:13:57.349-07:00THE END.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1YuXLHEPFro/UYH3M9rRcII/AAAAAAAAAkE/3RbKmjX0DBI/s1600/DSC_0432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1YuXLHEPFro/UYH3M9rRcII/AAAAAAAAAkE/3RbKmjX0DBI/s640/DSC_0432.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Auxano family.</td></tr>
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So Auxano is over. The only reason I know that statement is true is because we had a graduation ceremony and then everyone said goodbye and then I went home and I can't think of any other reason for all this than that Auxano must actually be over. Hard to say. The last two weeks of Auxano were great fun. We went on an amazing surf trip to Tofino. I had a lot of fun playing in a wet suit in the ocean and being trampled by waves but very, very little success with a surf board. Most of us succeeded at what we called "accidental surfing" only (when a wave shot us forward while we lay on our board without any effort on our part other than facing the right direction). Unfortunately I tired myself out playing in the waves for an hour before actually trying to surf so by the time I got out there on my sweet board, all stoked to finally know what it feels like to surf, I paddled around five times, got washed by the waves twenty times and was pretty much done with the entire sport of surfing for life. We all looked like a bunch of oompa loompas in our wet suits or beached seals when we laid down on the shore and let the waves wash over us and make molds of our bodies in the sand. The best part was when we were lying on the shore and a big wave hit us and, when it left, everyone was still there except for Steph... who had been washed up further on the beach. Eric and Brad were like two little kids that didn't want to go home. We went the next day but only half of us surfed, and once again there was Brad and Eric in the water and all of us trying to convince them to go home after hours at the beach. Instead of surfing the second day Shayla, Matt and I made friends with a squirrel and a Stellar Jay. We also found quicksand on someone's private property and had a great time sinking and struggling to get out. I mean, no we didn't. The squirrel was one of those cute little brown squirrels too, the ones getting taken over by the big grey ones. I say down with the big grey squirrels! We need to start equipping the little brown ones with defense mechanisms and warfare tactics. I say build a brown squirrel army and unleash them on the grey ones to kill them off. Now that I'm saying this it sounds a lot like a racist genocide... only for squirrels.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ssPT2ryLadE/UYH30w_ZPVI/AAAAAAAAAkM/aMQNfR5_f4A/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ssPT2ryLadE/UYH30w_ZPVI/AAAAAAAAAkM/aMQNfR5_f4A/s320/DSC_0006.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tofino</td></tr>
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Anyway moving on, the last week of Auxano was a great end to the year. We had classes in the morning on the Bible (I know, weird topic) and in the afternoon we hung out with old people. The Spring Adult Adventure camp was up for the week and we got to help out and basically hang out with the "campers" (it was hard to think of them as campers when they could all be our grandparents). We played Scrabble, croquette, boccie ball, did crafts like permanent marker on coffee cups and painted Kleenex boxes. Katie and I ran the drinks station and made lattes and organized musical bingo from the 1920's. I think they thought that we thought that this was their actual era. There was one woman there who was 99 years old so it pretty much was. I wanted to ask her what the secret to life was but I couldn't bring myself to. What if she told me it was something I didn't want to do like you have to give up sugar? I couldn't handle the responsibility of knowing the secret to life but not being able to follow through with it. I'd rather live in ignorance. I keep getting distracted. I'm watching this creepy cult movie with Nicholas Cage called "The Wicker Man" and it keeps reminding me of Auxano, it's uncanny, like they took a camera and filmed our lives there. Just kidding! So what did I gain from these past eight months? A greater knowledge of the Bible, a closer reliance on God, really good friends, lessons in humility while still knowing when to stick up for myself, lessons in grace and forgiveness, greater discretion (I know, hard to believe), learning how to live in a community... and a boyfriend.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sbwb33sgf9o/UYH09iAbsJI/AAAAAAAAAjs/758XSdDu95k/s1600/DSC_0217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sbwb33sgf9o/UYH09iAbsJI/AAAAAAAAAjs/758XSdDu95k/s320/DSC_0217.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretending to be surferes.</td></tr>
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Yes, you heard me. This year was really hard. Really good, but really hard. I think it could have been a lot easier. I'm trying to figure out why. I think maybe if I was to advise someone else I would say probably don't fall for someone at camp while you're still up there. I don't know but I would think that would end up complicating things a little bit. Wait did I say fall for someone at camp? I meant to say fall for a student... that's when things get awkward. I kept asking myself, should I fall for a student? And at first I was like mmm better not but then I thought you know this Auxano business is pretty boring. Let's spice it up a bit! <i>Of course I didn't you moron!</i> I tried so hard not to and like usual I just had to think hard enough and <i>will </i>my feelings away... oh wait, no, that doesn't work. If only life was so easy and you could choose who you like and when you like them. If I was going to give anyone advice from this I would say maybe don't tell the student you like them? Just a word to the wise. Not that I did that of course. Don't be ridiculous. But just let's say the student was a friend first long before he was a student and let's just I'm not perfect and I'm actually a Big Mouth Betty (see blog post <a href="http://faithseptember.blogspot.ca/2012/02/big-mouth-betty-debby-downers-bff.html">Big Mouth Betty (Debby Downer's BFF)</a>) and did tell the student I liked him, then felt like the stupidest idiot in the world and had to tell the leader and admit that I was actually a real human girl with emotions and then live with the consequences for the rest of the year. Now you understand my problem. But no longer! Auxano is over and God is still amazing, fancy that. So, if you too do something stupid like that don't worry, I am a living testimony that after eight months of awkward, you CAN survive. And the weird thing is people will still love you (not all of them, but you win some, you lose some). You will never be the same, of course, and people will point and laugh at you and call you a cougar and people like Shayla will say "ew" every time you're together and your leader will tell you it's lucky you weren't sent home, but hey! Isn't that what life is about? Blabbering to a student about your feelings for them and living out the next six months living with them and knowing everyone knows? Isn't that...? No? Huh. I was so sure.<br />
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Good news! He liked me back.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I LOVE YOU GUYS!</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-37868608747766622102013-04-08T23:29:00.002-07:002013-04-08T23:31:03.571-07:00Social Justice: Modern-Day SlaveryI feel vastly overwhelmed by the idea of writing this blog post. I don't know why. It might have something to do with the fact that the stuff I want to talk about is vastly overwhelming. Yep. That's it. This week we had Randy Hein and Tara Teng teach us a class on "Social Justice." They taught us the difference between compassion, which is like giving food to a hungry person, and justice, which is like finding out why that person is hungry and trying to fix it. We are called to both, but most Christians just stick with the compassion part. Randy talked about the new-fangled idea that worship and justice should go together. And by new-fangled I mean it's aaaaallll through the Bible and yet we seem to ignore it. Justice is everywhere in the Old Testament and everywhere in the New Testament. Again and again God says, "Take care of the poor, the widows, the orphans and the foreigners," as in the most vulnerable in society and "fight for justice." But He doesn't say it like "this would be a nice thing to do, if you have some extra time." He commands it. It's as much a part of His law as "do not murder." <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-OXh-4qUlE/UWOr8Ur92XI/AAAAAAAAAjA/BAtxhuA7x8k/s1600/tara-teng-abolitionist1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f-OXh-4qUlE/UWOr8Ur92XI/AAAAAAAAAjA/BAtxhuA7x8k/s320/tara-teng-abolitionist1.jpg" width="320" /></a>Tara Teng is this amazing girl who is all about ending human trafficking (some key words we discovered in describing what she does are "ending" and "anti." It's the little words that matter) and happens to also be Miss World Canada. I can imagine as a young child when people asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up they would be quite confused to hear "I'm going to be an abolitionist beauty queen!" She travels around using her beauty pageant platform to speak against human trafficking, which most people don't know, isn't just a problem in far off countries but is a problem in Canada as well. What is human trafficking? It's defined as a "multibillion dollar criminal industry that involves the recruitment,
transportation, harboring, or delivery of people for the purpose of
slavery, sexual exploitation, and forced labor." If you were to ask most people they would say that there is no such thing as modern-day slavery. We abolished it remember? Wrong! More children, women and men are held in slavery right now than over the course of the entire trans-Atlantic slave trade. It's the fastest growing industry, second only to the drug trade, and earns over $32 billion dollars. Humans are the second most trafficked "product" on the black market. In 2008, <a href="http://www.unodc.org/unodc/human-trafficking/">the United Nations</a> estimated nearly 2.5 million people from 127 different countries are being trafficked into 137 countries around the world, but many others estimate that it is more like 27 million (see <a href="http://www.polarisproject.org/">The Polaris Project</a>), two-thirds of which are women and children and an estimated 79% are used in sexual exploitation. And what about Canada? We think we're pretty great, don't we. But Canada is a known source, transit, and destination point for human trafficking. Here are some sad statistics for Canada:<br />
<ul>
<li>According to the RCMP, 800 to 1200 people are trafficked in and through Canada every year.</li>
<li>2200 men, women and children are trafficked into America from Canada
every year. </li>
<li>In Canada a girl can be sold for $15,000 and earn her owner over $40,000 a year for the purposes of sex. </li>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bU3Vw4hbvho/UWOr7ivpPWI/AAAAAAAAAi4/I6NDe5F7JpM/s1600/prisoner-human-trafficking2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bU3Vw4hbvho/UWOr7ivpPWI/AAAAAAAAAi4/I6NDe5F7JpM/s320/prisoner-human-trafficking2.jpg" width="212" /></a>Now, this is going to be hard to believe, but it was only in 2004 that Parliament finally passed a law that even recognized human
trafficking as a crime. Yay Canada. Always keeping up with the times. And it wasn’t until 2008 that someone was finally prosecuted after earning over $350,000 by sexually exploiting a 15 year-old girl daily
for two years. How much time did he get? Three years. Minus 404 days for time already served. Canada is known for its suckiness at fighting human trafficking. You should not distance yourself from it, saying ah well, the world is fallen. Sure go ahead and say that, but not at the same time that you buy that shirt from Wal-Mart that was made by a human trafficking victim in China or that chocolate from Nestle or you know, 90% of the cocoa out there that is harvested by a human trafficking victim from the Ivory Coast. Did you know that a lot of pornography is made using human trafficking victims? Did you know that the average kid starts looking at porn between 6-8 years old? They don't know they're contributing to girls being held against their will and raped over and over again. But neither do most of the adults who continue to look at porn. And what about prostitution? Prostitution has a lot of controversy because people assume the girls have chosen that work. If by chosen you mean an imaginary debt is being held over their head and they have been threatened, beaten and raped into submission, then yeah, totally. Chosen. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oxjs5EkR0K0/UWOr-DjpVyI/AAAAAAAAAjI/dcLC6Xk_i7o/s1600/free2work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oxjs5EkR0K0/UWOr-DjpVyI/AAAAAAAAAjI/dcLC6Xk_i7o/s320/free2work.jpg" width="320" /></a>YOU AND ME are contributing to human trafficking by the choices we make every single day. YOU AND ME are the bad guys if we aren't doing anything to help. I don't know about you, but being so incredibly privileged and blessed with so much, I want to fight for justice. I want to get to heaven and hear God say, "Yeah, you did alright." What can you do? Educate yourself, educate people, buy fair-trade, start buying more from places that don't use forced labor, stop buying less from places that do (and if you don't know, start asking) don't contribute to the sex industry, write letters to our government (go <a href="http://www.canada.gc.ca/directories-repertoires/direct-eng.html">here</a>), just to name a few. Here is a cool website that rates industries by whether they are contributing to human trafficking or making efforts to end it: <a href="http://www.free2work.org/">Free2Work</a><b></b>. You can download it as an app for your phone as well. And just so you know, I have to start doing these things too, little by little, bit by bit. Even Tara Teng can do more. We all can. But make sure you do something.<br />
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I think this is the heaviest blog post I've ever written. You're welcome.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-1934257610000001262013-03-25T19:40:00.000-07:002013-03-25T19:40:26.464-07:00The Break of Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Friday before last we cleaned the camp and got ready for the crazy children who were coming for the weekend. They were Intermediate age, so grade 5-7, and slightly terrifying. I only ever cabin lead teen camps but I love children, so it's not like this should be new to me, it's just that there were so many of them, and they were everywhere. The funny thing is boys and girls at this age sound and act exactly the same - insane. They stayed up until four in the morning and then told us their crazy sugar and Cheesie induced dreams which sounded like nightmares but apparently when you are high on sugar horrible things can happen in your dreams and you will always find them funny, example your dog gets eaten by a whale. Ha ha! My dog died! I picked up an entire bag of candy wrappers and Jones soda bottles from my girls' rooms when they left. It suddenly made so much sense why they had been bouncing off the walls, literally. Despite my fear of them (and you could tell I was nervous because I was trying way too hard to be funny) they were adorable. My favorite part about that weekend was the fact that Steph and Brad were the head cooks. I don't really know how this decision came about. I think maybe Andy drew names from a hat. I really cannot think of any other reason. There were two girls in my "cabin" (we all stayed in the lodges) who weren't Christians and were terribly afraid of offending anyone for their pagan ways. They knocked on my door near the beginning of the weekend with concerned faces and said, "We don't have Bibles." I assured them it was okay. But they weren't done. "It's not that we don't believe in God, we do, we're just not Christians and don't want to offend anyone. And we don't know how to pray, are they going to ask us to pray? I just know you say 'Amen' at the end," and, "What time do we go to bed? The schedule said eleven but I thought that because it was a Christian camp we would have to go to bed at nine." I wish. So cute though.<br />
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What an exhausting weekend right? Time for a break! WRONG! YOU MUST WORK UNTIL YOU DIE! That is actually the Auxano slogan. Andy spoke at the Spring Break camp and ended up comparing camp to a prison, which the kids found hilarious. I, on the other hand, know it to be true and wept inside. The weekend came to an end and the kids left and we then had a few hours to clean the entire camp before the Youth Work Week campers came up that night. We then spent the next three days working our butts off doing projects around camp along with the campers. The Auxano students were pretty upset that the RA's got a day off and they didn't. I <i>almost</i> didn't take my day off on Tuesday to show my solidarity with the students, until I got some sense knocked back into me (again, literally, I'm turning over a new leaf and trying to be a very literal person) and I realized being so exhausted I hurt myself wasn't doing anyone any good. We were picking up all the branches Paul was trimming off the trees and taking them to the giant bonfire we had built to burn them. I had been fighting negative thoughts all day, one second completely miserable and hating myself and then quickly reminding myself how blessed I am in a giant bipolar cycle that would seriously make anyone question their sanity. Not me, though, obviously. Then, because I was so tired, I made the poor decision to walk underneath the lift Paul was using to cut branches. I saw the branch hanging on the lift and I thought, "Maybe I shouldn't walk under the lift in case it falls off." Then I thought, "Nah." Well it wouldn't have gone anywhere, except that Paul who has been secretly trying to murder me for decades pushed it off just as I walked under it. Hmmm. He says he didn't see me. Do I believe him? No. He's just lucky I don't sue camp. It would be really awkward though, to sue camp and then not leave because I love it too much.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QP9WNVpBfTg/UVEE_8aOJuI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/pA1oGyqVZLc/s1600/tumblr_m9cjsipGSW1rroql3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QP9WNVpBfTg/UVEE_8aOJuI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/pA1oGyqVZLc/s320/tumblr_m9cjsipGSW1rroql3.jpg" width="268" /></a>We had to get up at 6:30 am on Thursday morning to head to Victoria and serve more time in an out-of-prison field trip. Jim took us to Woodwynn Farms which is a farm for homeless people, as in homeless people go to live there and farm, not that they farm homeless people, which would actually be the opposite of the reason for their existence, and we worked our butts off again turning soil and making vegetable rows. I had a bit of an emotional breakdown on the ride going up there because I was so tired. During the morning meeting we sat in on with the staff and volunteers I tried really hard and failed to act like I was happy to be there. The guy next to me kept talking about positive energy and smiling at me. Maybe he could see the negative energy poring out of my eyes. Then he did a thankfulness dance and made us all do it. They kept going around the circle saying things like, "What are you most thankful for this morning?" and "Let's describe our word for the day: Celebration." I wanted to die. Then they asked us, "In two words describe how you're feeling." One would say, "Happy and content," another would say, "Peaceful and curious." I wanted to say, "SHUT UP, EVERYONE, FOR GOODNESS SAKE, JUST... STOP TALKING." Buuuuttttt I didn't. Instead I just kept praying over and over that God would take my mood and turn it completely around. Eventually he did, but not before I nearly cried in the meeting like five times. It's not very often that happy people make me feel worse. I'm usually the one making people feel worse. I mean happy! Making people feel happy... Fortunately I wore my overalls with a plaid shirt and gum boots to Woodwynn Farms so I at least looked adorable, angry but adorable, like a little angry farm elf. I also found out pigs are disgusting creatures that actually probably should be eaten, just to put them out of their misery. I'm a vegetarian and animal activist. They are huge and ugly and could easily kill you just by sitting on you. The pigs there were 600 pounds. I was expecting to see Babe. But the other pigs ate him.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--_Bvq4QuwNU/UVEFJF80DdI/AAAAAAAAAiY/an5zX7erxQ4/s1600/LEVEL-GROUND-TRADING.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--_Bvq4QuwNU/UVEFJF80DdI/AAAAAAAAAiY/an5zX7erxQ4/s200/LEVEL-GROUND-TRADING.jpg" width="140" /></a>I wrote an email to the Mayor of Saanich afterwards that ended with, "I think Woodwynn Farms is doing something that could drastically change the face of Victoria for the better, even you don't care about helping people. My guess is you do. You're the freaking mayor for a reason." Only in the original I didn't say freaking. You know, cause he might not appreciate how wonderful that word is as a substitute for the f word. The next day we toured Level Ground Trading where they make their amazing coffee. The owner Stacie taught us so much I could never begin to explain it all. Plus I'm sick of hearing my own voice. Check out their website! <a href="http://www.levelground.com/about/direct/">Level Ground Coffee</a>. They are so amazing and stand for everything that I believe in that just after one tour my new dream is to eventually work there, and I don't even like coffee. It is like a mean joke drink - it smells wonderful and then you taste it and it sucks.</div>
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-6134113109087424022013-03-04T17:27:00.000-08:002013-03-04T17:27:04.180-08:00PEARL <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I got a new name. Pearl. I like it because it reminds of an old lady and I took up knitting not that long ago and then knitted for three hours and put a kink in my neck that is still healing. Also, the students like to pretend I am old. They're all just waiting for me to fall over dead. And I don't blame them, a couple days ago I popped a rib in my back along with my sore neck and had to go to a chiropractor appointment in Lake Cowichan, so it's probably going to happen any day now, the dropping dead thing. I've had to sit out on a lot of work but I'm not going to sit around crying about it (that would be stupid, I got out of work). I also like my new name because I love the comic "Pearls Before Swine" which I can relate to, because I find myself frequently throwing my pearls of wisdom before swine (everyone else). Just kidding! The real reason they gave me the name Pearl is because I'm like a clam. You know, clammy hands and stuff. I mean because they <i>want</i> me to be like a clam, like a clam is my spirit animal. Maybe I'm not explaining this well. They want me to be able to turn the irritants in my life - grains of sand - into pearls. At one point it definitely sounded like they were saying there were a lot of irritating things about me but they eventually clarified that these things in my life were irritating me like chronic fatigue and depression and digestive problems. This was an area they wanted to see grow in me, something they already saw in my life and wanted more of. I found it really encouraging, especially to hear how they already saw that happening. I was definitely expecting to be ripped a new one (because they're all really just savage beasts up here) but instead it was all encouragement and simply confirmed my old lady persona. Right after they prayed over me Steph suddenly went to her room to get something and came out with a pearl necklace to give to me. She didn't know before hand what my name would be, she just remembered the pearl necklace and decided it should be mine. It meant so much to me I could cry just writing it.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EViU7kRSKi8/UTKfHhKNHyI/AAAAAAAAAh4/tB9zwGzWZXc/s1600/tumblr_lgphkmrQNy1qakpeto1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EViU7kRSKi8/UTKfHhKNHyI/AAAAAAAAAh4/tB9zwGzWZXc/s320/tumblr_lgphkmrQNy1qakpeto1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a>THIS JUST IN: two of the girls were shrieking in the bathroom after waxing their legs. They decided they were sick of shaving and would finally try this other torture tactic called "waxing." My favorite was when I heard one of them say after yelling in pain, "Who decided this would be a good idea?!?!?!" On another really important note, some of the boys started playing Pokemon and the girls were getting all in a huff. It became a big problem, but not before I decided I would join in and play Pokemon too. Here was my thought process: instead of harassing them for playing so much, I would <i>make</i> them play with me and teach me their Pokemon ways, and only play a little at a time. Am I a genius or what? Turns out I just got slightly addicted and now want to play Pokemon all the time. The point is I don't. At first I decided I would read the Bible and then reward myself with some Pokemon until I realized how backwards that was, Pokemon being the reward for reading the Word of God. So I stopped and just play every once in a while. Gotta catch 'em all!<br />
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The week before last we learnt about First Nations Reconcilation. Mark Buchanan and Shane Woodlief, the pastors of the church we go to in Duncan, taught us. New Life Church has been building a relationship with the First Nation's community in Duncan for years and there is now a respect and trust growing that is beautiful to see. A bunch of us in Auxano go to Kidzone and play with First Nation's kids on the reserve. I feel so privileged to get to be a part of something that a few people at the church have spent years patiently pursuing in faith and prayer. We learned more of, or were reminded about, all the atrocities the church did to the First Nation's people and how spiritual damage requires spiritual healing. It makes perfect sense that the church should be the ones healing the damage they did, and yet here we have these incredibly broken people damaged by Christians in the past and now seemingly ignored by Christians in the present. Mark taught us about how the First Nation's people are our Samaria. Before Jesus leaves He says to be His witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth. To the Jews the Samaritans were their close neighbors, but totally looked down upon and ignored. When Jesus came along He focused a lot on witnessing to and healing the damage done to the Samaritans and tells His disciples to do the same.<br />
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Last weekend we had a "Ditch the Girls/Ditch the Guys" time. The girls stayed at Gussie's house in Sidney and the guys stayed at Matt's house in Shawnigan Lake. The guys did something really spiritual and watched "The Passion of the Christ." The girls spent almost the whole day talking about, but not really accomplishing, making a funny video of the random things we did. We went downtown in Victoria and had some fun in Value Village trying on crazy outfits, had some Bubble Tea in Chinatown then explored the top of Mt. Doug, headed to Gussie's beautiful house in Sidney for dinner then went to see Jen's sister Sarah perform a show at the Spiral Cafe in Esquimalt. Needless to say, a lot of driving. Gussie's house was beautiful. We felt like we were at a retreat, a big new house with lots of windows surrounded by the forest. I could have stayed there for a long time. It was a lot of fun, even if we were kind of exhausted and had to wake up the next morning to get to church at 8:30 where we were putting on the church service at Parkdale. The musically talented ones did the worship (AKA not me), a few of us talked about what we'd been learning and Brad gave a sermon on our First Nation's class. Then we ate lunch and hurried back to Duncan for Kidzone! We like to fit a lot of things into our days. YOLO, right? (You Only Live Once. Brad likes to say this about twenty times a day and no matter how much we fight it, it's caught on.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls on Mt. Doug. From left: Katie, Steph, Gussie, Shayla, me and Jen</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-74698347328957709802013-02-16T21:35:00.000-08:002013-02-16T21:36:20.105-08:00Adventures in Missions, Compost and Snow-CavesThis is an awesome videoWe've had a few adventures lately and I'd like to share them. They might make you feel like you have no life, so if you tend to feel that way better not read this. I'd hate to make anyone feel the way I usually feel just looking at Facebook for five seconds.<br />
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<u><b>Mission's Fest </b></u><br />
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We went to Mission's Fest three weekends ago. Most of us in Auxano are so deprived that we were more excited to go on the ferry than we were to go to an amazing Christian conference. We did have a pretty exceptional ferry ride. Brad and Eric played their guitars on the ferry deck and we sang songs and pretended we were in the Auxano band. <i>Wait, you didn't do that guys? Oh. Awkward.</i> Anyway, they're lying. They totally did that too. We sang and played under the overhang where the smokers and drinkers were sitting. They seemed to be enjoying it a lot, especially one guy named Kelly who was just eating it up. We were playing mostly secular songs or else Christians artists that were not overtly Christian but through conversation it got out that we were in a Christian discipleship school. Darn! And here I was trying to keep it a secret. Kelly kept inserting "Give me beer" after the line, "What do I gotta do to make you happy?" which is from the chorus of a song the boys made up about the girls. The next line is, "When everything I do just makes you snappy." The song is called PMS... As you can imagine the song did not go over very well with the girls. A couple of times Kelly almost teared up when we were singing about love and grace and Kelly's drunk cousin kept saying we were making Kelly want to go back to church even before we sang anything overtly Christian. You never know how God is going to work.<br />
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We went to a lot of seminars at Mission's Fest but the ones I was really interested in had to do with human trafficking and combating the sex trade. Gussie and I have been researching it and find we both feel a passion to do something about it. We're planning an informational night at the church we go to in Duncan to show the documentary "Nefarious" and write letters to the government. It was fun to help out a bit at the Camp Imadene booth in the exhibits room and wander around talking to people with different Christian organizations. I loved two of the speakers at the general sessions where a few hundred people had church together like it will be in Heaven: believers from every tribe, tongue and nation, and even more unusual, every denomination. One was Luis Palau who was British and hilarious and another was Ajith Fernando who was Indian and so passionate. I also loved taking naps on one of the couches up where the seminars rooms were. I even had ear plugs. At one point Brad and a few others came to where I was and were eating their lunches. Bard decided to put his cheesies on me while I was sleeping so I would wake up with them falling everywhere. Thankfully Jen took them off after he left. The last day there we were waiting for Vern, our van, and a bunch of Capenray students were playing this game called Ninja where you have to try to hit each other's hands in one move. We had started playing Ninja earlier in the year and Brad, who had never actually played before but only watched us play, decided to jump in to their game and start playing with this huge group of people watching. Probably one of the funniest things ever. Eventually four of us (not me, I suck too much at it to want to humiliate myself in front of that many people) joined in and Matt was stoked out of his mind when he won the round.<br />
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<u><b>A Rocha</b></u><br />
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We were staying at the Johnston's (Eric's house) for Mission's Fest who were so nice as to host us and feed us and send us on our merry way to our next adventure: A Rocha (pronounced ah rosha), a Christian environmental stewardship centre that is all about taking care of the earth and educating others on how to do it. As an avid environmentalist and total hippy I absolutely loved it there. Going in I was really hoping it was a commune that I could secretly just join and stay there forever and everyone in Auxano would be like, "Where's Faith?" and someone would say, "She's staying behind," and they'd say, "Why?" and someone would say, "Shhhh, she's with her people now." The farm is on this old estate called Brooksdale in the boonies in Surrey, so close to the US border that my cell phone kept trying to give me roaming charges. I kept yelling at it, "Eh! I'm in Canada, you idiot!" but it didn't seem to make a difference. The estate has this great big Tudor style house and a couple other buildings and the old farm house and it looks like the classic little country manor from the 1800's. It was a present this guy bought his wife as a summer home for riding horses. Pretty nice guy I guess. I felt like I was in <i>Pride and Prejudice</i>
and Darcy was going to come around any minute and say something that he
meant one way but I took the wrong way but eventually marry him. One night before bed all the girls talked in English accents in one of our rooms and couldn't stop (it's like an addiction) and Shayla tried to tell us a story about a "magic rainbow unicorn mountain." We visited the llama, the sheeps and the chickens, but I was sad to hear they used to have pigs. I was really hoping to steal some piglets. It's probably for the best because the boys (and Steph) would just eat them. To them pigs = bacon. Apparently when llamas are brought up with sheep they think they're one of them and being the biggest of their fellow sheep (because it's actually a llama...) they guard their brothers and sisters. Stupid llamas. When we paid him a visit Steph and Shayla sang a song to him but he must have yawned more than ten times so obviously we were really boring. I tried to befriend the sheep by saying, "Baa ram ewe! Sheep be true, sheep be true!" (I literally said this many times; anyone who hadn't seen <i>Babe</i> didn't understand) but they weren't having it. I assumed it was a universal code of acceptance into the sheep community. Apparently not.<br />
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Our days were full of helping around the farm, learning about environmental sustainability and our relationship with creation, praying and praising the Creator and eating amazing home-grown and home-cooked food, almost all of which was vegetarian because they ate what they had, lots of veggies, bean dishes and delicious soups. I was in heaven. One day we turned compost for hours and picked carrots and ate them with the dirt still on them and Jim told a joke about a dyslexic, agnostic, insomniac who stayed up late wondering if there was a Dog and when Shayla finally got it she laughed for the longest time anyone has ever laughed at a joke. Another day we raked leaves for hours and shoveled mole hills (I get it now, the whole "don't make a mountain out of a mole hill," because mole hills are small but freaking annoying and the next day there were already a bunch of new ones. Stupid moles) and another day we replanted baby trees into bigger pots and Matt gave them really annoying voices as they were being torn from their roots and transplanted to a different land. Because of A Rocha we have new zeal for composting and the 3 R's: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, and have painfully tried to take on the challenge of eating meat for just one meal a day. Not me, obviously, but others.<br />
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<u><b>Mt. Washington </b></u><br />
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We came back to the Auxano house just for the weekend and then headed up to Mt. Washington to this beautiful chalet owned by the Tenant family in a winter wonderland. The week up in that chalet was one of my very favorites. We were there from Monday to Thursday, hanging out together, reading<i> I Spy</i> books, knitting, playing Settlers, reading our Bibles, building a sweet snow-cave and every night we would have a naming ceremony (we've just been learning about the First Nations people so it seems even more fitting), names that we wanted each other to grow into. We named Eric "David, <i>the lamb</i>" (you have to whisper the lamb part because he doesn't like it) to grow in meekness and Jeremiah "Moses" to grow as a leader and Brad "Bear" like bearing fruit, not like the teddy kind. We named Jim "John," the disciple of Jesus, to grow in grace and Gussie "Rapunzel" ...the Disney princess, to come out of her tower, and Katie "Lucy," from the Narnia Series, to grow close with God. I've been named since but you'll have to wait for that one. It didn't matter that I couldn't go snowboarding. Only half of us did
and only for a day. It was enough just to hang out. In fact, I was
so happy sitting in the warm chalet looking at the snow NOT getting the
crap beaten out of me down a mountain that I'm not sure I
would have wanted to. The day after we arrived we went snowshoeing into the forest into the kind of place where snow-murders happen and you don't find the body until spring. Uh, sorry, that was, weird. Anyway we learned how to build a proper snow-cave that you could survive in if you were lost in the snow and had a snow fight. We didn't get to finish our snow-caves so the boys decided that they wanted to build another one back at the chalet. They worked on it for hours. In fact, I've never seen them more driven. They built benches in it that seated almost all eleven of us and a slide that came in the other side. Everyone loved <i>I Spy</i> so much that the next weekend when I went home to Victoria I brought back up with me all my old <i>I Spy</i> books from when I was a kid. Brad is now so enthralled by the Treasure Hunt edition that he has declared it to be the greatest book ever written. I didn't want to inform him that I doubted whether a list of things to find on each page, even if it did rhyme, constituted the greatest book ever "written," but I couldn't do it. I had to agree.<br />
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This is an awesome video we watched at A Rocha:<br />
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-22688873665964687542013-02-03T20:06:00.000-08:002013-03-02T11:53:38.889-08:00What We're Learning at Auxano Skhool<br />
This blog post is going to hark back to the first three weeks in January and all that we've been learning up here at Auxano in our classes. It's pretty awesome, so if you hate awesome, stop reading.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FL9rvEtDqDw/UQ8yTNPbxFI/AAAAAAAAAgc/hcmx9znGWb0/s1600/isaiah222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FL9rvEtDqDw/UQ8yTNPbxFI/AAAAAAAAAgc/hcmx9znGWb0/s400/isaiah222.jpg" width="400" /></a>The first week back we did a study of the book of Isaiah with Pastor Rob Filgate. Isaiah is one of the Old Testament prophets and the there are ten prophetic books in the Bible. Isaiah is full of prophecies about Israel and, my favorite, prophecies about Jesus. It was amazing to read through the entire thing in a few days and look at what God so clearly said was going to happen to Israel if they didn't come back to Him. Isaiah describes in detail how they were going to be defeated by the Babylonians, Egyptians and Assyrians. It's amazing to see how clear God is, how specific, long before the events had happened. It's not amazing that He knows the details, it's amazing that He let us in on them. God tells them exactly what is going to happen, why it is going to happen and even what they can do to make it so it doesn't happen (all they have to do, at any time to keep it from happening is repent and follow God) and then for three years He gets Isaiah to prance around without clothes proclaiming these things just to make sure they heard it. Apparently they weren't taking Isaiah seriously so God decided they would take him more seriously if he were, you know, naked. Then when the massacre and captivity actually happens they're like, "Whaaaa....????" as if they didn't know. The prophecies about Jesus are my absolute favorite. Again, God is so specific in His descriptions. I love reading in the New Testament in Luke about how Jesus explained all the Old Testament prophecies about Himself, most of which were from Isaiah. They had gotten the privilege of finally witnessing all the things that centuries earlier had been prophesied about. I can almost see the *click* that would have happened in their little minds. Because it happened in mine the first time I made the same connections.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KjOKH7otpCw/UQ8ySZWSxGI/AAAAAAAAAgU/lUSoSkJHISs/s1600/life+together.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KjOKH7otpCw/UQ8ySZWSxGI/AAAAAAAAAgU/lUSoSkJHISs/s320/life+together.jpg" width="211" /></a>The second week was our class with the wonderful Andy Renton, a book study on <i>Life Together</i> by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Or as we like to call him, The Diets. We don't actually call him that. This book was written while Hitler was persecuting and executing the Jews. Dietrich was part of a sweet underground church and anti-Hitler movement. The book is full of information on how to live as a Christian and the importance of living together in community with other Christians. Granted, it's translated from German into English and written eighty years ago, but it's the kind of book you have to read each sentence five times over before you get it, or read it five times over and just pretend to get it, nod and smile and say "Amen!" And if they ask you a question, answer, "Jesus." It works every time. I love the joke about a Sunday School teacher who asked her class, ‘What’s the animal with a long, bushy tail that eats acorns and lives in trees?’ All the kids look confused and one of them finally answers, ‘Teacher, I know the answer is Jesus, but it sure sounds like a squirrel.’ We read <i>Life Together</i> on our own before and then the classes were basically made up of reading it together again out loud, stopping every so often to talk about it and clarify what the heck he is saying. It's definitely one of those books you could read many times throughout your lifetime and get something from it every time. Or a few thousand things. Give or take. Our favorite part was about the all-critical singing in unison of which Dietrich says, "There are some destroyers of unison singing in the fellowship that must be rigorously eliminated." Diets wasn't a big fan of harmony. What he was a big fan of was getting up early to read the Bible, sharing the Word of God with fellow believers, being quick to listen and slow to speak, worshipping God while we work, eat and sleep, being thankful and responsible with the little things God gives you if you want Him to trust you with the big things, intercessory prayer, which means not just praying for yourself but praying for your fellow believers, ESPECIALLY the ones you have a hard time with. He said if you are gossiping or harboring a grudge against a fellow believer it means you are not praying for them.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0ZO8069mkw/UQ8yOxqupAI/AAAAAAAAAgM/EA8mNtelvXg/s1600/forgotten-god.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T0ZO8069mkw/UQ8yOxqupAI/AAAAAAAAAgM/EA8mNtelvXg/s320/forgotten-god.jpg" width="214" /></a>The third week we had our class on the Holy Spirit with the lovely Joyce Hilchie. It was a book study as well, on the book <i>Forgotten God</i> by Francis Chan. I really loved what Francis had to say, though I found he took a long time to get to it. He said how the Holy Spirit is often overlooked with Christians today. We talk about Jesus and God a lot, but what was it that Jesus said He was going to give to us after He left? The Holy Spirit. In fact He said it was better for us that He left so that we could get the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of God, who will not just live with us like Jesus did, but actually dwell inside of us, helping us, comforting us, guiding us, revealing the things of God to us and speaking to God on our behalf. Instead we often ignore the Holy Spirit, or start taking advantage of Him and doing unbiblical things, getting as out of control as the church of Corinth that Paul writes to. Then not only the non-Christians are freaked out by even the mention of the Holy Spirit, but the Christians are too. For good reason. Because those holy-rolling, tongue-babbling Christians are freaking scary. If you are of the impression that the Holy Spirit is supposed to be this crazy, out-of-control maniac, please read 1 and 2 Corinthians. And if you are of the opinion that the Holy Spirit never does amazing, supernatural things today, please read Acts. Or even better, if you think that God is just some distant God and doesn't really work through His Holy Spirit here on earth please read Genesis through Revelation. A major point Francis Chan makes is that the church should never be operating by it's own strength but by the power of the Holy Spirit. But so often they do. Why? Because they aren't coming from a place of desperation. They have everything they need: money, power, resources. Who needs the Holy Spirit? And, because as the saying goes, God is a gentleman, He won't force His Spirit on them. Just like the invitation to choose Jesus, the Holy Spirit is an invitation to believers. If you haven't chosen Him, you don't know what you're missing. Or maybe you do and you just despise love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, because you hate fruit and you've decided that the fruit of the Holy Spirit is probably just the same kind of fruit as an orange.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow;">COMING SOON: a blog post about our amazing adventures at Missions Fest, A Rocha and Mt. Washington.</span></span>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-62770197992180843952013-01-16T22:10:00.002-08:002013-01-16T22:20:22.694-08:00Back to Reform School: Auxano Round 2<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-otWyf_SHWn8/UPeULpcl-RI/AAAAAAAAAfU/90EiwXqhT0w/s1600/DSC_0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-otWyf_SHWn8/UPeULpcl-RI/AAAAAAAAAfU/90EiwXqhT0w/s640/DSC_0676.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim told us to kill each other.</td></tr>
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So I came back to Auxano after Christmas break and it was like, really? ANOTHER semester with these amazing people, learning about my favorite subject (God) in this beautiful valley and going on adventures? We were talking to the Kaleo students who go to a similar program at Camp Qwanoes and they were telling us about a big paper they had to stay up late writing and all the exams they had to cram for. It was hard not to feel anything but pity as we don't have any papers or exams. I spent days and days of my break staying up late and sleeping in. I am not ashamed of those days. I mean, yeah, I'm a little ashamed, but not a lot. I helped my parents at home, but not as much as I meant to or should have. I hung out with friends but not enough to really contribute to them in a significant way. I ate a lot of cookies and drank a log of eggnog of the soy variety but not a lot... oh wait. Yeah. A lot. Like an excessive, disgusting amount. I saw <i>The Hobbit</i> and loved how even with the things they added from Tolkien's edits everything was still excessively drawn out, just so they could extend the novel into three feature length films and steal your money with the extra frames per second thingy and the fairly unnecessary three-dimensional aspect. Otherwise I loved it.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TPr6VuVt-1E/UPeUiGZ-ndI/AAAAAAAAAfk/bmhFfIwZoqE/s1600/DSC_0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TPr6VuVt-1E/UPeUiGZ-ndI/AAAAAAAAAfk/bmhFfIwZoqE/s320/DSC_0707.JPG" width="320" /></a>This week started with, well, first my day off on Monday, and then an adventure at Botanical Beach on Tuesday. It was my first time to Port Renfrew. I didn't understand; I had heard of Port Renfrew so many times. I imagined it was a city. I can't even be sure it qualifies as a village. Maybe a hovel. All I know is I thought we were going to die on that sketchy road getting there in the Auxano van. Logging trucks seemed to speed toward us (I say seemed because when you get behind one they don't seem quite as fast as you thought) and some parts of the road are single lane which gets really awkward when you have to play chicken with a logging truck. Twenty minutes into the trip Jim remembered he needed gas: Vern was running on empty (we named the van Vern). We had to turn back and head to Lake Cowichan as Port Renfrew doesn't have a gas station around for miles. I think that might be why it stays in "hovel" status instead of becoming a legitimate town. But it was all worth it for the beach. I love the ocean. It seems silly but just being away from it for a few months I already missed it. We found a sea urchin shell for Shayla who was sick and couldn't come with us and brought her home a collection of pretty rocks. I especially loved the tidal pools with their miniature Little-Mermaid-esque worlds. I tried to get Steph and Matt to put their fingers inside the sea anemones that suction your finger with their little suckers (it's the best feeling) but they were total wusses. I was disappointed in Steph until I saw her freak out at a teensy orange starfish the size of your finger and realized her fears had gotten the better of her sanity. That left Matt. What a wuss.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Sti2bRodMg/UPeXbZO1tMI/AAAAAAAAAf4/PjsTMwhKhZA/s1600/DSC_0639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Sti2bRodMg/UPeXbZO1tMI/AAAAAAAAAf4/PjsTMwhKhZA/s320/DSC_0639.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremiah and The Whale Spout.</td></tr>
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We hiked across a beautiful rocky landscape. You could see where the sea and wind had eroded the softer rock and the different colored layers that some genius could probably tell geological time from. None of us were geniuses so we just knew the layers were old. There were long stretches of shale with a zig-zag of quartz. I now know where I am going to get my future roof shingles and floor tiles. Trekking across those rocks felt a lot like Frodo and Sam Gamgee on their journey to Mordor. And I'm not even saying that just because I watched <i>The Hobbit</i>. I managed to not get my runners wet during all the times it would have been reasonable to get them wet. For example, at one point we were watching the waves break against the rocks and one came too far so to try and save myself I pulled Matt into a puddle... At another place the waves broke against an alcove and shot up like water from a whale spout and soaked Jeremiah. Another time Brad, Eric and I climbed a ridge on the shoreline and Brad slipped down it like a slip and slide and fell up to his knees in water. No, all those times where I should have gotten wet, I didn't. I managed to get wet at the very end of our trip when all the extravagant displays of the ocean were over. When you are concentrating hard on skipping rocks sometimes you forget that after the waves go out on the shore they come back in again. Finally, after our Botanical experience in Port Renfrew we drove to the Honeymoon Bay Resort and went in the hot tub, which was partially outside and surrounded by snow. To get to it you had to walk through Aslan's Garden and pass the Toadal Fitness room where, if you wanted, you could work out before going in the hot tub. But you didn't see Frodo and Sam working out after their long journey to Mordor. No, they did exactly what any Hobbit would do, they went hot tubbing in Rivendell.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4TpEC2NV_wQ/UPeUA70P0zI/AAAAAAAAAfI/mju6EnfWf8Y/s1600/DSC_0655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4TpEC2NV_wQ/UPeUA70P0zI/AAAAAAAAAfI/mju6EnfWf8Y/s640/DSC_0655.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On our way to Mordor. Jim was sick of us already so he wanted to throw us in a mountain of fire.</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-46468731815505286942012-12-18T19:41:00.001-08:002012-12-18T20:16:23.734-08:00Auxano Christmas<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TWcKA2KPk2o/UNEtFkhxwoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/3frt0KPTu2U/s1600/Auxano+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TWcKA2KPk2o/UNEtFkhxwoI/AAAAAAAAAd0/3frt0KPTu2U/s640/Auxano+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Left: Eric, Brad, Jen's face, Shayla (lying down), Me, Steph, Katie, Jeremiah, Matt and Gussie.</td></tr>
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I know, I know. I'm a total slacker. It's been almost a month since I wrote a blog post and I know you have been eagerly anticipating my every word. Or not. Maybe you didn't know this about me, but there are three things I'm really good at: puzzles, slacking and not getting around to things. I'm not even very good at puzzles. <br />
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The last few weeks before Christmas break have been a lot of fun. After the Annual General Meeting at Camp, Eric and I drove down the road to where a bunch of trees had been cut down and stole one. Best way to pick a Christmas tree ever. We had to cut off the bottom and a large section of the top just to make it fit in the living room, so it looked like a tree was growing through the floor and ceiling. It would have made Charlie Brown cry. We had classes with the wonderful Pam Welle on
Spiritual Formation and she taught us how important being alone with God
is. God and I
went for walks together and may or may not have napped together. The key
idea I got from that week was that you will know that your being alone
with God is affecting you by how much more loving you are to people.
That week was our family Christmas party at the Rentons and we had a gift exchange made up of either funny or useful unwanted house items or something under $5. There were quite a few gifts from previous years - an old Snuggie, a Darth Vader toy - as well as some joke gifts like a board game all about cats, called, if can you believe it, Cats (when I looked inside, it had first, second and third place ribbons that said things like, "You are a cat lover!" and "You know a lot about cats!" What they should have said was, "You are a freaking cat psychologist!" or "You know a lot about cats! You probably have too many of them," and for first place, "You know waaaayyy too much about cats. There is something wrong with you. Please get your cats spayed or neutered, they are probably a fire hazard.") My night was made when Rachel Zalinko bequeathed me her ugly Christmas sweater. It's pink and has reindeer on it. I don't know why she didn't want it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F9iH_2-yO3E/UNEvCL2mQHI/AAAAAAAAAeI/kG_iUMDRnhs/s1600/worst-nightmare-112210-m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F9iH_2-yO3E/UNEvCL2mQHI/AAAAAAAAAeI/kG_iUMDRnhs/s320/worst-nightmare-112210-m.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My future husband.</td></tr>
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Then we had our classes on Romans with David Banks, a fantastic man who
knows a lot but is super humble about how he shares it. The last week of Auxano was practically a vacation, other than some
work we did at camp. We had a fun DTG (Ditch the Girls, Ditch the Guys).
The boys went out in the woods and had a manly adventure. The girls
painted ceramics in Chemainus and baked cookies. We are trying really
hard to break stereotypes. No actually. To break them the girls decided to have a
secret wrestling match downstairs because that's what the boys always
do, but it turned out to be not so secret as the boys knew what we were
doing right away just by the crazy noises we were making.
That actually happened. We had Christmas morning at the Auxano house on the last day. It was such fun! I woke up the girls and Jeremiah woke up the boys with a cup of hot chocolate. The hot chocolate didn't wake them up, we did. That would be bad ("Merry Christmas suckers!" - hot chocolate to the face.) We did Secret Santa and I got Matt the greatest present ever - according to his standards of the greatest present which you will probably not understand because you are not childlike. It took me a long time to figure out the difference between being childlike and being childish. You probably haven't figured that one out yourself but as I keep being reminded, I am quite old (25). I will explain it to you: being childlike means you have the faith of a child, which Jesus says to have, whereas being childish just means that you are stupid and annoying. Anyway the gift I got Matt was a "Thomas the Tank Engine" coloring book and crayons. He's British. Gussie gave me the most thoughtful gift ever: a little tack board with her favorite Scripture verses on it and a framed picture she took of me and Leilani, the Rentons little girl. We had a feast that the amazing Kelly Watt provided for us and Eric made us pancakes. It's just what he does.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6yyBDhaN1Xs/UNEtEL9IIkI/AAAAAAAAAds/qE8-ijsN1-E/s1600/Auxano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6yyBDhaN1Xs/UNEtEL9IIkI/AAAAAAAAAds/qE8-ijsN1-E/s400/Auxano.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeremiah and I thought this was supposed to be a creepy photo.</td></tr>
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On December 6th we all had to say goodbye to each other for our month of Christmas vacation. This is how it went down:<br />
Me: "Guys, guys, stop crying, I'm only going for a month."<br />
Auxano students: "But Faith what will we do without you and your wise advice? Who else will advice us in our residence as our very own Resident
Advisor?"<br />
Me: "Beloveds, this is your time to rely on God, not on
mortal (wo)man. Man cannot live on bread alone but on the word of God,
Deuteronomy something something."<br />
Steph and Matt: "She's so spiritual!" (waving the little spiritual flags Steph made. No really, she made those.)<br />
Me: "I know. It's ridiculous."<br />
Auxano students: "Will we ever see you again?"<br />
Me: "What are you, illiterate? I'll be back here January 6th. So will you. Don't ask stupid questions."<br />
Katie: "I'm going to miss you so much!"<br />
Me: "I see you every Sunday at church. What's wrong with you."<br />
Auxano students: "Our prayers are with you, oh wise one."<br />
Me: "Save your prayers. I don't need them. I'm already too spiritual."<br />
Pastor
Tom: "Faith, are you paying attention? You look like you've been day
dreaming about something ludicrous during my very important class on the Pentateuch."<br />
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Of
course, this conversation is completely fabricated. For one, Mondays
are my day off so I don't get to sit in on Pastor Tom's classes.
But I think it paints a pretty accurate picture of how important I think
I am to the program, AKA my self-delusions.<br />
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Merry Christmas! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M8475U2WlXM/UNEy91mnSgI/AAAAAAAAAec/GNr58xkpZKQ/s1600/brad-eric-faith-jones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M8475U2WlXM/UNEy91mnSgI/AAAAAAAAAec/GNr58xkpZKQ/s640/brad-eric-faith-jones.jpg" width="531" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We got Auxano versions of Jones Soda bottles for Christmas. Every detail is packed with awesome! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-44221744639221673702012-11-19T21:28:00.001-08:002012-11-19T21:28:32.139-08:00Adventure in Homelessness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--bYkJ7Np_r8/UKsLnTLGA2I/AAAAAAAAAc8/eQkEztjqIIw/s1600/Homeless-2-Ian_Spence_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--bYkJ7Np_r8/UKsLnTLGA2I/AAAAAAAAAc8/eQkEztjqIIw/s640/Homeless-2-Ian_Spence_large.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Last week was quite the adventure. Auxano took it to the street! Word up! Not quite so gangster as that unfortunately but we did go to Victoria for a week of outreach. We lived at the Mustard Seed which is a church and food bank and multi-function community center in one and we did have a so-called "homeless" twenty-four hours on Thursday. The girls slept in the family centre for the week and the boys in the board room. At first I pitied the boys because all they had was a fax machine whereas we had a puppet show, but it turns out there is no time for puppet showing when you are working your a-double-snakes off volunteering (an expression we found hilarious that week). Surprisingly there <i>was </i>time to read most of <i>The Christmas Pony</i> out loud in different voices until it got so wearisome we couldn't continue. The week fit well with my radical experiment for the year: to volunteer in the community, so as you can imagine I was incredibly happy and felt like I was right where I was supposed to be. Steph was just talking about that feeling on Sunday when we led the church service at Saanichton Bible Fellowship and talked about our experience. I agree. It is a pretty great feeling. You should try it sometime but I warn you it probably means doing something outside of your comfort zone to help someone else. We helped out in the back of the food bank organizing all the donated food. I couldn't believe how much food the Mustard Seed gets every day. Most of the Mustard Seed's clients are low-income families, not homeless people, which just goes to show you how many there are. I found out there are around 1500 homeless people in Victoria, but there are thousands more who are living under the poverty line, especially because the cost of living in Victoria is so high. Apparently the issue in Victoria for the homeless is not food but housing.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMCuwIrtKNU/UKsNE_vbmsI/AAAAAAAAAdM/OHfB5EOHneI/s1600/our_place.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMCuwIrtKNU/UKsNE_vbmsI/AAAAAAAAAdM/OHfB5EOHneI/s320/our_place.png" width="320" /></a>We also volunteered at Our Place. They offer free meals to 1200 people Monday to Friday (they don't have enough funding to be open on the weekends) and they have 45 rooms for transitional housing that help the homeless get off the streets and give them a chance at, well, life. We helped out in the kitchen making meals, at the clothing exchange and cleaning the showers, which I especially loved. Don't get me wrong, I don't enjoy cleaning showers but I do enjoy giving people access to something so simple being clean. We all just want to feel clean. For many of the people living on the street it is not a choice, though for a small few it is. We like to think that so we don't have to feel bad for them. The saddest part is that for so many of them who didn't have a choice, in the end they had no choice but to take substances to keep them warm and make them feel something better than what they were feeling. So we think it was their fault that they got addicted to drugs or alcohol and now have to pay the consequences, but for most of them it's just not true. For a few nights we got to volunteer at Sanctuary Youth which is run out of Church of Our Lord and offers a place for youth under 19 to hang out, to feel accepted regardless of who they are or what they have done. The first night we walked past a few young people begging on the street and invited them to Sanctuary Youth for pizza. We walked past this guy wearing a joker's hat and a mask playing his digeridoo, and who turns up at Sanctuary Youth but Mr. Digeridoo himself? We found out he's a pretty cool guy, a complete hippy, and when we saw him the next night happily playing his digeridoo we said, "Come on out to Sanctuary! There's cookies!" It was interesting to go there and hang out with kids who were obviously stoned. How could we judge them when we had no idea where they were coming from? Or better yet, we knew exactly where they were coming from and it made perfect sense that they would rather go through life high than live without the security of a home, the satisfaction of a job, the love of a family and the support of a community. It was here that I felt most aware of how close I had come to being exactly where they were. Growing up my family was the grateful but humiliated recipients of many a food hamper from the Mustard Seed and we lived in low-income housing for most of my life. There was nothing separating me from these kids but the grace of God. Nothing.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fbc-W5tgTn8/UKsNEWlYelI/AAAAAAAAAdE/0wVmRYhrhGo/s1600/hope-farm-sign-600x505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Fbc-W5tgTn8/UKsNEWlYelI/AAAAAAAAAdE/0wVmRYhrhGo/s320/hope-farm-sign-600x505.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hope Farm is a rehabilitation centre run by <br />
the Mustard Seed in Duncan.</td></tr>
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Thursday afternoon we started our twenty-four hours of being homeless. Even though we weren't able to sleep on the streets like we were hoping to do we still hadn't showered in four days and all we had was a handful of change and no place to go - just a little taste of what it would be like. After sleeping in the same clothes on the hard ground we stood in line for mediocre but much appreciated free breakfast Friday morning at Our Place. We were able to talk to quite a few homeless people, hearing their stories and telling a little bit about what we were doing. Brad and I talked to a guy named Jo we had met at Sanctuary Youth. He was high. He was also hilarious and we all laughed a lot. When we asked where he got the crazy fur coat he was wearing he said he killed a Yeti in the Himalayas with his guitar and I for one believe him. It was clear he enjoyed just having someone to talk to, that feeling of loneliness set aside for a short moment. Friday night we helped with something called Drive-by Cafe through the Mustard Seed. If they have enough volunteers for Street Cafe they take a table downtown and give out free food to whoever comes by. We each got a stick of chalk and went down a few different streets writing encouraging words on the sidewalk. I had a lot of fun writing out the lyrics to the song "Dark Horses" by Switchfoot. And yes. It took me a while. I probably looked like a crazy person squatting on the sidewalk with my sidewalk chalk but a little crazy is good for everyone. The song is about the street kids in San Diego and had become a really special song to all of us. It was pretty breathtaking to praise God on the streets of my hometown with such an awesome group of people after volunteering all week and having our eyes opened. I highly recommend it. But FYI you look really weird. </div>
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We all felt very grateful after that week. And humbled. Most of us plan on volunteering at one of those places over the Christmas break and hopefully it will become a life-long passion helping people who need it most. We might not be able to do anything about the substance abuse or the housing problems but we can certainly make their lives a little better, give them a little bit of love and share a little bit of humanity. These people are not just children of God, they are also just someone's children. Wouldn't you want that for your own?</div>
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-84036691917140139072012-11-06T22:10:00.002-08:002012-11-06T22:21:56.885-08:00Radical Times<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rCr4s9ZmY4k/UJk7F-qeKRI/AAAAAAAAAb8/NmYWtTiGKpA/s1600/dscn8299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rCr4s9ZmY4k/UJk7F-qeKRI/AAAAAAAAAb8/NmYWtTiGKpA/s400/dscn8299.jpg" width="400" /></a>I'm all grown up now. I am not only 25 and no longer living with my parents (whether I am going to be after Auxano is besides the point), I now have my full license (the fact that I still had my N is also besides the point). I'm sitting in my room eating a watermelon lollipop as a reward. And no, I do not see a contradiction between the first sentence and eating a watermelon lollipop as a reward. I tried to do the grown-up thing and get something from Starbucks but my tea just ended up burning my tongue for two days. So there you go. Lollipops beat Starbucks. I'm surprised I passed my road test - I was incredibly tired, plus it was raining like the dickens and I wasn't used to the brakes on the car I was using. Luckily I know the universal braking system (put foot on brake and press down) so we didn't die. I told the examiner all about Auxano but I wasn't quite willing to go into detail about why he needed Jesus because you know, I wanted to pass. Is that wrong? He put a smiley face in the notes section on my test. I'm guessing a sad face meant you failed but I can't be sure.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span">A lot has happened at Auxano. For instance, on Halloween I dressed up as a fairy godmother and Shayla and I pranced around
camp saying, "I'm a beautiful
butterfly!" with a British accent. Then I granted everyone a wish with my tinfoil wand. I think
it was obvious to everyone that a tinfoil wand was not going to be doing anyone any favors so some of the magic may have been lost, but
you have no idea how happy it made me. Or maybe you
do. It made me really, really happy. </span>We recently read the book <i>Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream</i> by David Platt. Mr. Andy Renton himself, camp director and road-test-car-loaner, led the study on the book. I know, you're thinking I must be pretty important to have such an 'in' that the camp director would let me borrow his car to take my road test, but that's just because you are forgetting my important title up here, "RA," which as I was recently informed stands for "Really Awesome." I don't think that's true though. I think it's supposed to stand for "Real Advisory." The book<i> </i>is pretty challenging. David Platt has a huge church in the States and has started a movement in his church to live like Jesus actually says we should live.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> All the Auxano students including the RA's (the "Really Awesome's") came up with one radical thing we are going to do for a year, along with</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> reading the
Bible and praying for the world one country at a time (you can follow along with the other thousands of Christians doing the same thing here: <a href="http://www.radicalexperiment.org/home.html" target="_blank">The Radical Experiment</a>). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Some of our radical things are not buying clothes for a year and giving the money to a charity, or for every dollar we spend giving the same amount away; some of us are starting a specific ministry we feel called to - whatever it is, we have been challenged to give what is <i>uncomfortable</i> to give. It is easy to give out of your excess. It's when you give like the poor woman who gave all she had that at the end of your life God will say, "Well done, good and faithful servant." I don't know about you, but right now I'm afraid God would probably say something more like, "Well, you know, better luck next time. Oh snap! There is no next time. Because you're dead." </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I can be a bit callous.</span><br />
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What else? We go to a church in Duncan called New Life and after church we volunteer on the native reserve at a program called Kidzone. An inspiring young couple lead it
and they've seen some pretty amazing results. The parents and grandparents who once wouldn't let their children go have started trusting that they really are there for one thing only: to show love to these kids. Not only that but the police have confirmed that the incredibly high number of calls they receive from that area for gang violence, drugs and abuse have gone down. I feel so blessed that we, the Auxano students and I, get the
opportunity to take part in something so special. The kids
we get to play with are amazing. I have this feeling when I'm there
like, "This is what I was created for." Plus, I get to basically play and color pictures. Mostly I
go for the coloring. I've been making friendship bracelets for the
Auxano students and it brings me a lot of joy to see my masterpieces on
their wrists, especially when I know the truth: they are not actually
masterpieces. But they wear them anyway. Why? Because they were made with
L-O-V-E. And love beats lollipops. And Starbucks. And Battlestar Galactica<br />
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P.S. You wouldn't believe it but last night Matt and Shayla let me cut
their hair. I somehow managed to convince them that I was a skilled hairdresser (I've cut
my dad's hair once or twice and my friend's hair once). For some reason I
felt bizarrely confident, or incredibly uncaring I don't quite know.
Either way the fact that an important part of what they look like was in
my hands didn't seem to phase me.
Except for that one point when I actually thought out loud, "I have no idea
what I'm doing." You don't want to hear your hairdresser say that. Two beautiful haircuts later, I don't know what in the
world I was thinking. More importantly, I don't know what they were
thinking letting me handle scissors near their face<span class="Apple-style-span">.</span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nu5nVpMzxWk/UJk9GX_eLFI/AAAAAAAAAcU/GgV1K0jsq_4/s1600/fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nu5nVpMzxWk/UJk9GX_eLFI/AAAAAAAAAcU/GgV1K0jsq_4/s400/fall.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Gray and I when she came to visit me!</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-7084696837806424262012-10-23T21:38:00.002-07:002012-10-23T23:06:26.686-07:00Fall: Summer's Glorious Death March<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Auxano crew at Fall Teen Retreat (with a couple of last year's Auxano students thrown in for good measure.)</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A lot of this blog post feels like old news. Time goes by so quickly out in the bush (Lake Cowichan) and at the same time there is no time or else there is not enough of it and you start going crazy and asking questions like "What is time?" and "If God created time does that mean he could create time travel?" and "If time is based on the rotation of the sun does that mean there is no time in outer space?" Really important questions that we're studying up here at Auxano. Just kidding. We don't have time to study such deep theological things. We are too busy studying Jesus (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the default answer for every</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> question in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sunday School</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">), who is only the most important person of all time, the Son of God who existed before time began. He's kind of a big deal. Anyway I went for a walk around camp the other day and appreciated the plethora of multi-colored trees and took some pictures, a couple of which I included for your viewing pleasure. They are terrible pictures taken by my cell phone but beggars can't be choosers. Plethora is one of those words you want to use as sparingly as possible so that when you do use it it makes everyone happy. So Fall finally decided to show up, huh. Tardiness is so unacceptable. I know because I am always tardy and it is always unacceptable. I'm hoping some day that will change (that tardiness would become acceptable, what did you think I meant?) I gave Summer a talking to in spite of how much I love her because I felt she was getting a little carried away. I said as gently as possible, "Get over yourself already." So she did and then we nearly drowned at Fall Teen Retreat when it rained pigs and chickens (if it can rain cats and dogs, then it can rain pigs and chickens). It was wonderful. I wore blue polka-dot gum boots. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PidExTnnnjE/UId6J3WNbbI/AAAAAAAAAbM/sM-rYZ_85GM/s1600/2012-10-17+15.08.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PidExTnnnjE/UId6J3WNbbI/AAAAAAAAAbM/sM-rYZ_85GM/s320/2012-10-17+15.08.02.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3UX5vhQppDI/UId55wWF19I/AAAAAAAAAa0/hGeJO9BeqO0/s1600/2012-10-17+14.23.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3UX5vhQppDI/UId55wWF19I/AAAAAAAAAa0/hGeJO9BeqO0/s320/2012-10-17+14.23.47.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before Fall Teen Retreat Chris got me to fix up the cardboard maze that we have in the dry shed as part of the carnival we put on for the retreat. He basically gave me a drill, some zip locks, a staple-gun and a roll of tape and told me to crawl around in a confined, dark maze with the purpose of making it even darker by fixing up the holes. It was quite entertaining dragging around these tools, on my hands and knees by myself in the dry shed. I felt a lot like a Neanderthal fixing up his cave. Funny thing happened: no one knew where I was so they left without me to get their stuff back at the house. When they asked, "Where's Faith?" they should have known I was in the cardboard maze with a drill and staple gun. I mean really, what else would I be doing. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fall Teen Retreat - what great fun. Singing and dancing and playing games and whatnot. I can't remember. I was really tired. I had Restless Leg Syndrome the second night and decided to get up in the middle of the night during Hurricane Imadene (AKA it was very, very windy). I put on my gum boots and rain jacket and went to the camp kitchen to read because I couldn't handle feeling like I was going to pass out from being so tired but not being able to sleep because of my legs. Sleep deprivation is a form of torture in times of war you know. I then found a box of Tim Horton's donuts in the kitchen and proceeded to eat an apple fritter and have some tea and read my Bible. It was pretty fantastic despite how tired and annoyed I was and the feeling of satisfaction overwhelmed any shame I was feeling for stealing a donut that was probably for a kitchen staff member. In the morning I was telling people at my table about my late night adventure (because I don't know how to not tell things I should keep to myself) and the speaker John was like, "Wait, the box of donuts in the kitchen? I bought those for the kitchen staff!" Supes totes aux ("super, totally awkward.") It's a good thing John has a good sense of humor or he could have stood up in front of everyone during chapel and used me as an example of a wolf in sheep's clothing or something like that.</span></div>
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I had a good conversation with my parents the other day where I realized that I am not up here to make friends. No, I am up here to be an advisor, someone the students can look up to, a leader, to show God's love in an extraordinary way. I have no idea if I'm doing this. I hope I am, but remember when I said attention-seeking Faith would have to take a seat on the back burner? She keeps coming out! I think I need to drug her and ship her to a foreign country. It's the only way. You see, like most people, I want to fit in, to be like one of the "cool" kids (well, no, we all know that is never going to happen). I have this fear of being left out which means I'm not spending enough time on my own. For some people that's not a big deal. For me, I can't survive without it. If I don't take the time to recharge then how can I be there for these amazing young people? The dilemma is that I miss out on a lot already because I have to go to bed early like the old woman that I am, but that <i>is</i> who I am! Not the old lady part, but the person who has to go to bed early. I can't change it and in many ways I don't want to! It's always been important to me to take care of myself and having these limitations has made me the person I am: thankful for what health I do have and so aware of the health struggles of others. Nothing in this life is easy. If it is, it probably means you are not living properly. Otherwise I'm doing really well and studying this amazing book called Radical by David Platt which makes all of us want to sell everything we have and actually listen to Jesus when He tells us to make disciples of all nations. Imagine, listening to Jesus.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally children are not swimming in the freezing cold lake just because it happens to be sunny in October.</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-86921083193625384182012-10-15T21:22:00.003-07:002012-10-20T16:53:07.338-07:00Mind Blown, Soul Satisfied<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a short blog post. So much has happened since my last one. My birthday. I turned 25 and I had planned this amazing party to celebrate being a quarter of a century before I spontaneously quit my job and ran away to Lake Cowichan. Things change, and thank God for it. All the students make me feel really old, something I thought I would never feel at 25. I just made a comment about remembering something when I was young and before I could say what it was they said, "You remember being young???" Thanks guys. Thanks. Speaking of thanks, I went home for Thanksgiving and spent a really nice weekend with my family - so much to be be thankful for! And last week for Auxano we finished our classes with the amazing Francois Blouin creator of the <a href="http://www.theswordministries.org/" target="_blank">The Sword Ministries.</a> Francois teaches the Gospels from a Jewish perspective using "A Harmony of the Gospels" which looks at all the events in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John side by side. IT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND. You wouldn't think so because it sounds like the most obvious thing in the entire world to teach the Bible in the actual context it was written in. You know. Like if you read a historical account about a different culture and a different religion than yours you might want to know what it is talking about when it refers to that culture and religion. And, odd, isn't it, to think you would miss things if you didn't. Yes, I too am feeling the sarcasm is a little thick. Kind of sickening. I am going to go throw up now. But I am so thankful I am learning it now, before I am an old lady who is stuck in her ridiculous notions about the Bible and far too stubborn to change her mind no matter how unfounded the belief. Especially since I have already decided that when I am old I am going to refuse to believe anything that is contrary to what I already believe just because I can (because I am old) and it will drive everyone crazy and I will laugh in my wheelchair, old and senile and happy.<br />
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Francois is a miracle who came out of French-Canada (like Canada but French) and loves Jesus so much he decided to find out what the crazy things Jesus was talking about actually meant. Fascinating. No really. It is so fascinating I came out of the class every day with a permanent smile on my face because I was blown away by how good God is and how much He is in control. I came out of that class having so many ambiguous things explained and feeling like I can trust my Bible more than I ever knew possible. That I can trust that God knew and knows exactly what He is doing down to the very "tittle" (that's a new word we learned in class meaning the small part of a letter in the Jewish alphabet. We may or may not have giggled during class. You see, Steph taught us an affectionate name for someone that the girls think is sooooo adorable but for some reason it makes the boys cringe. Instead of saying kitten we say, "titten!" It is the cutest thing ever and boys love cute things like cute little baby clothes and pictures of puppies with hearts and cartoon animals with big eyes so I don't see why they wouldn't love the word titten. You're making a frowny face aren't you. I will pray for you so that the next time you hear someone say "Awww, titten!" your insides are filled with love and joy and rainbows.) Oh cutest thing ever: I phoned home today finally (it's only been a week since the last time but it felt like a lot longer) and when I ended the conversation with my parents my mom said, "I love you to pieces" and my dad said, "And I love you back together again!" If that doesn't fill your heart with love and joy and rainbows I don't know what will. There is no hope for you.<br />
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I'm going to be writing another blog post very soon as it's been quite a while. For some reason I am finding it very hard to take time on my own when living with eleven other wonderful people. I have no idea why...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tDQpy1kVpkQ/UHzcnfIfu3I/AAAAAAAAAY4/uMLTNH_peK0/s1600/Auxanos-students-plus-Francois-and-Ana-Alicia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tDQpy1kVpkQ/UHzcnfIfu3I/AAAAAAAAAY4/uMLTNH_peK0/s640/Auxanos-students-plus-Francois-and-Ana-Alicia.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Francois and his wife Ana Alicia with Auxano!</td></tr>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3117582596991059168.post-76304829645144923642012-09-25T21:49:00.001-07:002012-09-25T21:49:23.231-07:00Ghetto Camping on Pineapple Beach<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going up Bald Mountain</td></tr>
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I live in the little town of Lake Cowichan now. Can you believe that? If you say no that makes sense. It makes a lot more sense that I don't live in Lake Cowichan. Except that God wants me in Lake Cowichan and fighting God is like fighting your own fist times eternity in Pandora's box. That makes about as much sense as me living in Lake Cowichan. But guess what? I love it here. I love living in a beautiful house on River Road with eleven beautiful people: Jim leading us, Sarah his wife supporting us, Jeremiah the male RA, the girl students Katie, Shayla, Gussie, Jen and Stephanie and the boy students Matt, Eric and Brad. Of course, this is only the beginning of the second week of eight months with these people. And what's even more disconcerting, they <i>like</i> me. Which means it is only the end of the first week of eight months of having to keep these people liking me. I don't know why they like me. I have this beautiful room with a bed twice the size of the one I have at home while the five girls share two rooms and live in bunk beds. But I don't feel too guilty because I am living in a house with a dog. I am allergic to it. I have quickly found out that living with the embodiment of what I am allergic to gives me allergies.<br />
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This is how the first week went: we hiked up and repelled down Mesachie mountain on Monday and then cleaned the camp on Tuesday and then canoed to Pineapple Beach to camp for two days on Wednesday and then decided it would be a good idea to hike up Bald Mountain (which is three times the size of Mesachie mountain) on Thursday, canoe home and spend all day cleaning the camp again on Friday. I'm telling you, these people mean business. It's Jesus' little boot camp over here. And yet there is nowhere else I'd rather be or anything else I'd rather be doing than going on amazing adventures with these amazing new friends and serving an amazing God with joyful hearts. We are all learning what servant leadership is all about and can't wait for what God is going to do this year in us and through us! FYI Bald Mountain like Pineapple Beach is a misnomer. It is not nearly as bald as you would think it would be, but a lot higher than you would think it would be and a lot harder and scarier than my definition of a delightful hike through the wilderness with the fairies and leprechauns should be. <i>And yet</i>... there is that satisfaction of having hiked up a mountain that no one should ever hike up to see a view that no one should ever see. And you know, the bonding experience and all (they say danger brings people together).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BKW9DbkFT3o/UGKCEmZ2POI/AAAAAAAAAYc/F1xEGPTCdA0/s1600/way+back" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BKW9DbkFT3o/UGKCEmZ2POI/AAAAAAAAAYc/F1xEGPTCdA0/s640/way+back" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming down Bald Mountain. As you can see, some are more enthusiastic than others. Some are pretending to jump...</td></tr>
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My greatest memory of that camping trip was washing dishes with Jeremiah and Matt. No one knew what they were doing but we all thought we knew what we were doing and we ended up washing the dishes in three different contradictory ways trying to figure out the most sanitary way, without leaving food in the water to encourage the bears to eat us and without putting all the soap in the water to pollute the planet but also rinsing the soap off the dishes enough that we didn't give everyone diarrhea yet keeping the dishes clean from the lake water which we were told was not clean enough to wash our fruit and vegetables in but was clean enough to wash our hands after going to the washroom. Are you confused? Just imagine how confused we were. All I know is there was way more laughing than is generally acceptable when doing the dishes. At one point Matt rudely asked me for the soap which I told him was no way to speak to an RA and ended with Jeremiah telling him to take out his anger on the lake. At which Matt turned to the lake and yelled, "FAITH, PASS ME THE SOAP!" a la Batman voice. Life doesn't get much better than that.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9u7VLm-nMxw/UGKCjA8qrYI/AAAAAAAAAYk/qK7pNr3HzpQ/s1600/jumping" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9u7VLm-nMxw/UGKCjA8qrYI/AAAAAAAAAYk/qK7pNr3HzpQ/s400/jumping" width="400" /></a>We call ourselves a family. You know you are a family when you can pass wind in front of each other and everyone feels a little grossed out because let's face it, a fart is a fart (there's no getting around it, only through it) but you still have love for the person that did it. That is the definition of family.<br />
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If you want to see more pictures you can look at our Auxano facebook page <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/groups/auxano2/%20" target="_blank">here</a>!<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435868762139384039noreply@blogger.com0