How Did I End Up Here?

Guys, I’m going to be very open and real with you in this post. It is very early in the morning, and I’ve already been awake for over an hour. I can’t sleep. I woke up from a terrible dream. …

Something Happened Today…

Something happened today that has evoked a whole bunch of emotions and thoughts. I feel this is something that should be shared and not kept internal for it is a true display of the vast differences in humanity.

Since becoming vegan almost a year ago, I have followed so many vegan YouTubers, Instagrammers, and joined several vegan FB groups. Though these groups have encountered their fair share of trolls sabotaging the pages, what I saw today has troubled me the most.

Personally, I cannot stand to watch the animal cruelty videos. I cannot stand violence. I know I couldn’t sleep, eat, or do anything if I were to sit and watch these videos, so I avoid them. If a YouTuber is playing a clip in their videos, I tilt my computer screen down or skip ahead in the video. I simply cannot handle it.

Today, I refreshed my NewsFeed, and the post that greeted me was the most gruesome picture of a cows head being held by the horns by a human. Blood was everywhere, sprayed all over the walls and poured all over the floor, obviously showing a slaughterhouse. It was violent, it was gruesome, it was gory, and it was unnecessary. While in shock, I first thought somebody must have had an awful story to go with it, but instead, the caption stated, “This makes me want a steak.” My heart broke.

This poor creature, his death being displayed as if his life was a joke. The murderers proud of the work they had done in bringing this living being to his brutal death. It was a scene from a nightmare.

Of course, people had already called out the admin of the group, and people had begun yelling at the poster with a variety of tactics which of course simply entertain the poster. I will never understand how people have fun causing others misery. But as I was sitting here tonight, thinking of how I may have responded in the situation, I don’t believe it would have been as the others. Because as angry as it makes me that somebody would do that to purposely instigate drama, the action speaks loudly about who that person is. Getting angry is only what the person wants. Retaliation is what the person is seeking. That speaks so much about the person’s character.

To me, this picture and comment is heartless. To do it purposely in a vegan group shows such unbelievable ignorance. It’s disrespectful, it’s selfish, and it’s menacing. It paints a terrible picture for this person. The thing is, I often wonder how much heart people actually have left. To me, you would have to be fairly hard-hearted to do something like this, to cause so much pain to so many people. To me, only someone lacking heart could look at such a devastating picture and feel that way. There is no sympathy left. There is no compassion left. Simply stated: heartless.

What is wrong with humanity? How have some of us become this way? Why is violence something we enjoy? Dog fights, cock fights, animal abuse, domestic abuse, violent video games, even as far as the UFC. Young, elementary students are playing adult-rated video games as if it’s no big deal. And yet we wonder where our society gets some of their ideals from. Why are we so disconnected from reality?

To me it all comes down to love. That’s what our purpose should be. We should love one another. We should love and care for the creatures of this earth rather than treating them like objects. Seriously, we have to stop being so selfish. We endanger the lives of so many just to get what we want. I can’t help but shake my head. Maybe if we put ourselves in the shoes of others, in the shoes of the animals, we would for once realize the effect we have. Maybe society would realize the horrors that these fully aware animals and people are living because of us. Maybe, just maybe, then we could live in a much more caring world where violence would finally be realized as an intruder rather than an accepted friend.

Think before you act. Reflect when you’re done. Make changes for the good of all.

From Feeling “Trapped” to Feeling “Free”

My husband and I (and our pups) just spent the last two days driving back up to Canada from the states. The past two weeks in the states have been phenomenal to say the least. I’ll write a post stating more of what we did later, but I experienced something tonight that I needed to feel, something I didn’t know would be possible for a very long time.

In high school, I lived in the “big city”. It was nice for the duration I was here, but when I left, I swore never to move back. I am a small town girl, and the big city is just not my scene.

When I graduated from university, I was able to get a job for the first year in a small town. Bingo! But when that maternity leave position ran up, so did my other plans.

I received a phone call from my superintendent that I had an interview scheduled in the “big city” on such-and-such a date at such-and-such a time. I hadn’t even been asked, I had simply just been told.

On that day, I drove to the city, did my interview, and of course, got the job. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The one place I never wanted to end up was the one place I was being told I had to be. I was angry for a very long time.

Eventually, I got to the point where I simply went around saying “God certainly has a sense of humour!” But my one year employment turned into two, then three, and currently on year four.

Reflecting on it, I knew God wanted me to be here. There were certain situations I had to encounter as a teacher to grow. There were painful moments I had to experience to become wiser. There were children who needed someone to advocate for them, and there were relationships built with students who just needed someone to listen that wouldn’t judge them. I was able to fill that place. As much as they think they have learned from me, I learned ever so much from them.

This year, when my big change from 6th grade to 2nd grade came, I couldn’t believe it was happening. As much as 6th graders stressed me out, I loved the counselling aspect; I loved the difficult questions. I felt like a stranger in grade 2. But of course, as time went on, it became easier and I was able to find aspects I liked. But I couldn’t help thinking, is this really where I’m supposed to be? Is this really what I’m still supposed to do?

I can’t really say it’s teacher’s burnout (though I’m sure some things are similar). It’s just the feeling of being “stuck”. No matter how many ways I looked at our situation financially, I could see no better opportunity to survive than where we were. We both hate living in the city, though I’ve come to see good parts about it and don’t hate it as bad as I used to. But when I can hear parts of my neighbour’s conversations, when my neighbours that I strive to be so nice to turn around and stab me in the back, and when I no longer see a way that Canadians are nicer than Americans anymore (sad reality from what I see here in the city), I know we aren’t really happy here. It’s not where either one of us want to be. So that’s when I realized something this weekend.

When we were finally finishing our drive, doing the same maneuvers through the city as we had done for years, we had come to the house, walked in, and I suddenly felt like I was in someone else’s house. I felt like a stranger walking into someone else’s life. It was a strange feeling. My husband did not experience the same thing, but for some reason, it was like I was that “spirit” looking at someone else’s world, an outsider looking in. Of course that feeling is over now, but that wasn’t the only feeling that came.

After driving for 2 days, we absolutely did not have the energy to go grocery shopping. So we went out for supper (our fridge is bare). On the way home from supper, it hit me. This city is no longer my jail. I no longer feel like I strapped to this city, unable to move. I no longer feel like the city is the pit that is going to swallow me whole to keep me here with no escape. I suddenly realized, with options my husband, my mother-in-law, and myself had talked about after Christmas break, the world is at our fingertips. It may not be a fun ride to make change, but to get out of the rut of tiredness, depression, and feeling “stuck”, a few months of painful change would be so worth it. It’s no longer an impossibly large, looming, unattainable vision, it is now a totally possible, difficult but doable task. And taking those chains off was the best feeling I could have ever experienced.

I know this post is kind of vague, but this year is a huge year of change. I cannot leak more information than is timely, but I can assure you this year is going to difficult but good. Stay tuned!

Farmers Do Not Love Their Cows

I apologize that the title of this blog sounds hateful. I can assure you I don’t have farmers. For 2 years of my life, my family had our own farm. My best friend in university’s family had a beef farm, and for two years, my hairdresser and her husband had a beef farm. I don’t hate farmers in the least. But here is an argument I was part of this week.

Now, normally, I’m not such a vocal person. I’m not the kind of person who just looks for a fight or who believes everyone should think the same way I do. In fact, because of my Christian beliefs, I believe that God has given everyone the gift of free choice, and so I am not someone to take that away. Of course this gets bordered when it inflicts pain on others, but that’s a whole other topic. The fact is, in Exodus, God gave permission to eat certain animals, one of them being cows. So if you want to eat beef, I may not agree with it, but you have total right to do that. So that’s not where this argument is coming from.

What I saw this week was a picture of an almost frozen calf in a farmer’s truck. This is a typical appearance. In my two years of farming, we were up in the middle of the night to help our animals sometimes. I get the work it takes. I see the dedication farmers have. But the caption of the farmer is how much they cared/loved their cows. That’s where I had a problem.

Now, this world has problems enough with understanding what love really is. All too often we see people throwing around the “love” word without really meaning it. People date people and still keep their own needs above their partners. People get married, and stop caring for each other. This is an awful view of love. There are so many terrible views of love. One of the pure views of love that are left in the world is when I look at mothers who truly love their children. They will do anything to protect them and give them the best lives possible. That’s what love should be. Fighting for the one you love, willing to die for that person, that’s love.

Now, I know we are talking about animals and not humans, and many people do not consider them on the same level, so that’s fine. Let’s go with that. But love, in no sense of any manner, means killing the thing you love. Think of a child’s favourite toy, or an adult’s favourite car. You love that toy/car. If that object were to “die”, you would be incredibly upset and angry. These objects aren’t even alive. Yet the cows are. (This also goes for pigs/sheep/chickens, etc…)

So these ALIVE things that farmers are claiming they “love” are raised to be killed. Does that still seem like love to you? Is it caring to kill them?

I had someone tell me that ranchers and farmers are different. That’s cool. I can see they are different. That’s not a big deal to me. The ranchers say they are animal rights activists and they do what they can to give the cows the best lives they can. Well, although it does seem like a very nice gesture to give an animal the best life possible for their short lives, do you think they would call it a “good life” to live for a couple years then be killed? Would you call it a “good life” if you were raised to the age of 2 or 18 (2 year old cow = 18 years as a human) to know you would be placed with a bullet between your eyes and then cut apart for others to eat? Would you call that loving? Is that caring? Knowing you were only born to be food? I don’t think so.

I think there is such a disconnect in this world! It’s crazy! If you are willing to put all that care into an animal, taking a cow into your home to warm them up, saying that you “love” them, well, I will agree you are acting that way. But why do you stop loving them? Why does it change from this seemingly “love” feeling to a feeling of “get on my plate! Die!” Is that how you feel about your dog? Is that how you feel about your cat? Is that how you feel about your children? They’re only worth loving for so long before you get rid of them and don’t care what happens to them?

Some of you may be wondering why I have such a big deal over a simple word. But here’s the reason, people are not owning what actually happens. Sure, the cow may have a “good life” before its death date. But here’s what happens to this “beloved animal” on it’s death date. It gets taken on a usually overloaded cow trailer where they are not given water or anything of substance on the way to slaughter. Once they get to the slaughterhouse, they become terribly frightened. They hear other cows expressing their fright and just as a dog has amazing senses in the personality of humans, cows are no different. They can sense fear and know something is wrong. The “beloved” creatures are as scared as a child in the dark except darkness is easy to fix, death is not. So not only are they unloaded to this terrible place, many people abuse these animals while they are still alive, fighting with creatures who are only scared and reacting as such. Do you go in and punish your child for having a nightmare? These cows are LIVING their nightmare and being punished for it.

When the time comes to be killed, a bullet is put between their eyes. Now, according to government regulations, it’s ok if they’re not killed by that bullet as long as they are stunned and unable to move. Now, I don’t know about you, but it’s almost like a totally functioning person in a coma. These people, when out of the coma, are able to tell you things that people said because they were totally there, just not in control of their body. That’s how these cows are except they can’t tell you what people are saying, but they can tell you about the hooks that were painfully shoved through their legs. Would you like to be alive with hooks piercing your body? I’m going to guess not. Of course, the hook is not enough to kill the cow. So the next step is being sliced open down the middle of their bodies and through their neck. Mmm. What an awesome feeling while you’re still alive. So humane. Such a “loved” and “cared about” animal, right?

So here’s the thing. If you can accept what you do, and you have no problem saying cows are just money to you, that you don’t actually love them and don’t care about the violence you put them through, then by all means that’s at least not hypocritical. Again, I don’t agree with it and think it speaks volumes about the kind of person you are, but I at least appreciate the honesty. But if you advertise to the world that you are such a caring and loving person to these animals, you are so hypocritical and maybe even lying to yourself! I’m asking farmers and ranchers to take responsibility for their actions. You’re not really an animal rights activist when you’re still sending them to a bitter death. So that’s the part I have a problem with. Accept the realities of your job. Don’t just pretend that you’re doing something good for them because for all the good you did before, I guarantee the cows would choose a little less cozy life in exchange for keeping their lives. Nobody wants to die, not even animals. They are alive, they have thoughts, they are just unable to communicate to us the way we need to understand. So start thinking and accept what the truth is. That’s it. If you choose to continue to eat meat, like I said, that’s your choice. But know where that meat is coming from and what that animal is going through to get to your stomach when the world over knows a vegetarian/vegan diet is a way to thrive. You don’t need meat, you don’t need dairy products. But make your choice while being educated and not hiding the truth.

Know the truth, own your choice.

Why the Name “Christian” Can Cause Such Anger

I’ve delayed in writing this blog post. The past few days have been a whirlwind for me. Not because I’m cleaning up my classroom, preparing for a new grade, but because the world has changed ever so quickly, and I needed to make sure my own emotions were not mixing and leading my thoughts but that rather my beliefs were the driving force behind my words.

When I decided I wanted to turn vegan, I thought what better place to learn than to join vegan groups on Facebook where people are continuously discussing ways of doing things better and on improving lifestyles. What better place would you get a mix of people who are starting out in their vegan adventure, as well as though who are tried and true veterans to the lifestyle. I did enjoy these facts, but I wasn’t prepared for what was coming.

As many of you know (and if you didn’t, I don’t know how you could have missed it), but the states have just legalized same sex marriage. To some people it’s no surprise, to some people it’s a reason to lash out, and to some people it’s a reason to celebrate. I was prepared for those reactions. What I wasn’t prepared for was the anger backing people’s responses. And it took a few days for me to truly understand what was going on.

Unfortunately, one of my vegan groups posted about this legalization and stated that you will never find a “homophobe vegan”. A man simply stated (though not in words I would have used) that he was not a “phobe” by the meaning of the word “phobia” as in being scared. He simply was using Biblical pieces to back-up the point that he did not support the movement. The backlash he received was incredible. And as I noticed he was the only one defending his beliefs, I decided to try and approach the conversation in a loving but understanding way. You see, I’ve noticed people are very quick to criticize Christian beliefs as being old and not modern day. But I knew that this is often because Christians have made a bad name for themselves.

I once saw a conversation where Christians were attacking an atheist. I could see where her comments and attacks were coming from. I couldn’t stand Christians reacting in this kind of way so I entered the conversation as well and simply responded to her questions and comments in a loving, non-judgemental way. It took quite awhile, but believe it or not, she thanked me for talking to her the way I did and explaining things the way I had. Of course she assured me she wouldn’t become Christian anytime soon, but that wasn’t the point of my discussion. The basis of my discussion was love.

So I figured that maybe if love was presented the right way in this vegan conversation, then maybe the hatred I was seeing would dissipate and the group could go back to the original purpose of becoming vegan and standing for animal rights. However, I’m sad to say it did not work that way. No matter how many times I reassured that none of the Christians in the conversation weren’t hating them nor judging them (all 2 of us), they served critique after critique back. No matter how many times I assured them that Christians should be focused on loving and loving all people, hate was served back. No matter how much love I tried to show about loving people but not supporting decisions they make, I was not supported. I even told them that the God of the world, Himself, has given us the power to choose what we do, regardless if we choose sin or not, and thus everyone in the world should have the power to choose what they want without anybody telling them otherwise, I was still considered judgemental. I brought up how I have a great uncle who has been a married gay my whole life and how I love him dearly and will never treat him otherwise, but that I do not support his lifestyle, I was still considered a “homophobe”. I was called a jerk, ingenious, told to take a nap, told I have mental sickness, that somehow someone loved me but in the same sentence told me everything I am is a sin, that God was going to send me to hell to burn for eternity, etc. And I was reminded again and again how listening to a 2000 year old book is so wrong.

I was not prepared for the hardness of hearts I was presented with. This is why I did not write this blog when I first thought of it. In fact, it’s been sitting as a tab for the past however many days since the law was passed. I’ve changed the name 3 times. I needed time to sort through what was going on, and to make sure my emotions were in check. And now I think I’m ready to help explain where I think things have gone wrong.

There happens to be a girl many years younger than I who was feeling the same way I was – being attacked by so many people, being pushed with no rest, exhausted from having to defend herself. The message came clearly in her Facebook post and the response from someone questioning the selection of beliefs, specifically pertaining to the lack of support on the same sex marriage issue.

I really thought about it before I posted this time, and I provided a very prominent issue among different Christians about the “clean” and “unclean” foods. I stated it as the fact that many Christians don’t support eating pork. Some claim that because it is an Old Testament law, that we no longer have to follow that distinction. Although many Christians disagree on this issue, we don’t hate our own family members just because they eat differently than ourselves. The best way to influence anyone in a positive way is through a loving manner. I also added that I grew up as a hunter’s daughter. When I turned vegetarian, my grandfather was convinced I would die. In fact, for the almost 10 years I was vegetarian, the very first question he would ask me is if I was healthy and had gone back to eating meat yet. The amount he would try to sneak meat onto my plate was crazy. He did not support my eating habits whatsoever. But he never stopped loving me. In fact, I can’t recall a day in my life where I did not feel loved by my grandfather, and that’s the way it should be.

To go a little further than that, she said she was going to put it bluntly and ask how same sex relationships is one law we believe from the Old Testament, but there were a host of others such as wearing jewelry, having tattoos, and premarital sex were things most Christians don’t follow anymore, yet we can choose to not stand for the same sex marriage issue.

This is where it truly sank in. The reason I believe that most people are so angry with Christians and our beliefs is because we have compromised on so much! Seriously, look around at your churches. I know for a fact that people drink, do drugs, party, have non-marrital sex with people regardless of being married or not, have problems with pornography, steal, cheat people out of money, etc, etc… There are people in almost every church who are the kings and queens of gossip. Churches are seen as judgemental because they’ve become that way. What have we done to ourselves?

Now, I’m not saying that all churches or even all people are this way. I do believe we have the sweetest, loving Christians still on this earth, and unfortunately that’s something we desperately need more of. But when Christians in themselves are out in the world claiming to be Christian and yet are caught in such horrible acts, what else is the world to think of us? Can you really blame people for hosting anger when they grew up in a church but like my sister, left because people were judging the clothing she wore? Do you really think that made her feel at home rather than winning her over with love? Personally, I’m ashamed at some of the things we’ve done to people. We should be opening our doors and welcoming, not just greeting, but truly welcoming people into our midst with the goal of letting love take over. When Jesus saved the prostitute, or sat with the tax collectors, you don’t see Him attacking them. He loved them and that’s what created the difference. Why can’t we do the same?

Of course I’m not saying we should kick out all of the people who are having problems either. What better place to receive help with healing than a church family, as long as we are being just that – a loving and supportive family.

Now, I know my beliefs may differ from yours, and that’s ok. Like I said, I have no judgement. The Bible, unfortunately, is not the most easily understood book at times, and some is left to our interpretation though hopefully somewhat unfolded with divine help (always pray before reading the Bible!). So yes, topics like jewelry and tattoos are a little more difficult to defend for some. However, I know the Bible clearly points out that our bodies are the living temples for the Holy Spirit, and we are to take care of them to the best of our abilities. Putting needles unnecessarily into my body, causing a stain that God did not put there in the first place that is ridiculous to remove, and putting holes all over my body does not seem like preserving the “holy temple” as God stated it. To me, that is clear enough definition as to why those are not the best idea. Jewelry that does not require holes (such as necklaces, rings, and bracelets) are a little more in the grey area. However, if you look at history, you will see that only the rich, and those who placed themselves above others wore jewelry. So at the time, it made total sense that jewelry was a way to separate the classes of people, and as far as I’ve read in my Bible, God doesn’t view us that way, nor does He want us to develop an attitude of being better than others. So to me, that makes sense. When it comes to premarital sex, it’s a no-brainer to me. You don’t need a Bible to tell you it’s not the best idea. Look up science reports and the reactions in the brain with sex. Look up psychology reports. The more sex you have before marriage, the less you are bringing to your marriage. Imagine if everything was brand new coming into your marriage. No past relationships to discuss, no past comparisons to make, nothing bad to bring into your forever relationship. I think in a way, we’ve lost sight of how sacred and special marriage was supposed to be. It was a union, a joining of two people. And in Mark 10:9, it states clearly, “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” We say vows, vows that are actually supposed to mean something. God blessed the union between husband and wife and specifically said that NO MAN (that means nobody on this earth) should be able to separate that union. I don’t know about you, but there are an awful lot of divorces going on. A lot of “man” separating what God told us not to. And that’s in the New Testament, not even the old.

Again, I hope you are not taking offence to this. I am the product of a divorced family who married other divorced people. Divorce is around me, and although I love my family more dearly than anything, I will fight with all I have to preserve my marriage union because I believe that is what is right. (I may continue this conversation at another time. It’s a whole separate Bible study.)

So those are my thoughts. I’m not sure if Christians will ever recover. If we’re going to stand for our beliefs, we need to learn not to compromise. No, it’s not easy being criticized. If anything, becoming vegan has opened my eyes to a whole new way of being criticized (not enough protein, not losing weight fast enough, not going to be healthy, etc…). But if you truly believe in something and seek to receive the rewards at the end, then you need to stand for whatever it is. But remember to stand in a loving way. Hate is fuel to the fire, but love (usually) softens the hardest of hearts. So speak to and treat each other in love, regardless of what a person chooses, but stay strong to yourself and don’t compromise on the beliefs you hold. Nobody in this world has the right to force their beliefs on people. But rather, keep an open ear and seek to find the Truth, and once you have the Truth, hold on to it. As humans, we are master justifiers, master liars, and master convincers. Don’t let someone talk you out of being yourself and believing what you’ve sought to be true.

For another pastor’s perspective, I found this to be a good, well-written, loving read with Biblical back-up.
http://todaychristian.net/a-detailed-explanation-of-why-christians-dont-accept-gay-marriage/

Week 6 Day 4

I finally got it last night on the treadmill. I finally thought up a few examples that really showed me things that were very difficult to forgive, but I have forgiven. As I reviewed my list, I realized these things hurt me more than they have ever made me angry. I narrowed my list to four things as I only wanted to summarize yesterday’s topic before presenting what I had prepared for today. My list consisted of the following: My father did not attend my high school nor my university graduations, my sister almost died due to the doctor’s mistake of putting latex elastics (of which she’s allergic to) in her mouth following jaw surgery causing her to near death, my friends burned down my family’s camp in a drunken stupor one Halloween night which contained years of memories that will never be replaced since my family was in the middle of renewing the insurance, and finally, the one that is still able to make me cry at any moment, is the fact that my grandfather died when an impatient driver went to pass a semi-truck and ran head into my grandparents’ vehicle coming in the opposite direction. Four extremely difficult situations I had to go through.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that yes, these things cause me sadness, but I don’t hold grudges against the people who were guilty. And here is what I figured out:

1. My life philosophy: Hate what the person did, but don’t hate the person. The truth of the matter is, if sin did not exist, the person would not have done what they did. God did not design us to be this way, but we all sin because of the fall in the Garden of Eden. When Jesus returns, sin will no longer exist. Therefore, just as we reflect on ourselves being sinful, hate the sin but not the person.

2. Allowing someone to suffer what we choose to be consequences for what they’ve done is a method of passing judgement. We are not the ultimate judge. Yes, Earth has judges for major sins that are here so that hopefully less sin will be created, but who are we to gossip about those who have made mistakes against us? We cannot claim to be the judge that God is, and thus should not carry out such punishments.

3. I thought of the story in John 8 where the people brought forth the prostitute expecting Jesus to agree that she should be stoned. However, Jesus responded in a way they didn’t expect, and that was that whoever had not sinned should be the first to cast a stone. Yet, nobody could because everyone had sinned. In this same way, how are we to again, punish others in such a way yet expect forgiveness for when we do something?

4. In a way, Jesus became the person you are upset at. Jesus did not just die for one person’s sins, He died for ALL of humanity’s sins. Think about that. In order to truly die on the cross for us, He had to essentially become all the bad things that we are. He became the bad in all of us. And I thought if I were to see the face of Jesus in the person I’m upset at, would I really be able to stay upset? This is a hard one to think of…

With that being said, I quickly summarized and prayed that those ideas would stick for anyone having difficulties with forgiveness. I then proceeded to continue with my topic for today.

Today’s School Spirit Week day was Tacky Day. Quite frankly, I hate this day. I don’t find “fun” in dressing tacky. But I do it to support my students. So tacky it was. When trying to think of a topic associated with dressing tacky, it quite easily came to me that the topic should be on how life can get messy. And I had a great personal story about this that I was given permission to share, and that was on my step-sister, Natalie.

Natalie was a child with a free spirit that did not easily get along with my dad. Quite understandably, it is hard for a man to come into your life that in a way seems to be taking place of your dad. I can completely relate to that. But she was encouraged by her true father to move out early. She moved out with her boyfriend at the young age of 15. She then proceeded to get involved with drugs which eventually led to many (I believe up to 15) times of being in and out of rehab. Then, the fearful happened. She became pregnant.

During her pregnancy, she seemed to come clean. She moved back in with her mom and my dad, and although there were still some arguments between my dad and her, she seemed to be doing alright. Several months later, twin boys emerged. They were premature, but healthy. I sing my praises to God that those boys were and still are healthy. So many things could have happened. But as they were now born and she fed from a bottle, it was becoming noticeable that she drank.

One Christmas break, my sister and I were at our dad’s, and our step-mom noticed she was getting an alcoholic drink. And so, my step-mom locked up the alcohol in her bedroom. What came next, none of us were prepared for. She went ballistic. She was pounding on the door, screaming that it was unfair, that they should allow her to drink, and finally that she was going to get her babies and they were going to leave. This got so out of hand that it got to the point, the almost unbearable point for my step-mom, that the babies were in danger and the police needed to be called. Keep in mind, my poor dad is running three things at the same time: apologizing and trying to lighten the mood for my sister and I, trying to console and counsel my step-mom, and keeping my step-sister and her babies in the house while keeping unwanted people out.

When the police came, they gave her the option of going upstairs to say good-bye to her babies. She fought and fought them until they eventually and literally dragged her out of the house. If only I could share with you the nightmare. I have never heard someone scream and yell like I heard her scream and yell that night. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was being stabbed to death. The awful things she was yelling at her mother would definitely be carried for a long time. That’s when I really knew what addictions could do.

She was released the next day, and I expected that when she called, she would at least ask how her babies were. But do you want to know the ONLY question she asked? When her mom could come get her and take her to get her Methodone shot. No joke. I was in shock. To care about a drug replacement shot to help with her previous addictions over the care of her own children.

Later, she did move out into her own apartment with her children, but by that Friday, my dad and step-mom had the boys over for a sleep-over that they would never return from. She was not using her finances for the true care of her children but rather to feed her addictions, and so learned that she could live on her own again while visiting her children as they were kept at my dad’s.

As much as I’d like to say that she got the help she needed, I can’t. I can remember a conversation we had late one night where she was telling me that the worst thing for her was realizing that she had no dreams left. She used to want to be an actress, to be all of these big things in her life. But she realized that her addictions have drained all of these hopes, all of these goals and dreams out of her, and she had nothing left. Perhaps this was one of the most painful realizations for her. Because one night, in winter, I received a phone call from my dad. His voice was shaky, and he sounded as if he was ready to cry. As much as Natalie and him fought, she was still a huge part of his life as his step-daughter. And I believe this is what made it so difficult that the police had shown up on their doorstep the night before asking them to come and confirm the identification of the body they had found under a bridge. Upon investigation, they had come to believe that she had jumped off the bridge as there was only one set of footprints in the snow that led to the railing and thus leading to the body below. What a hard thing to accept. After years and years of drug abuse, of alcohol abuse, and of accepting that you have nothing left to live for in life, I can only imagine the pain she must have been in. She knew that rehab wouldn’t help because it hadn’t in the past. She couldn’t seem to escape the relationship abuses from men, the fact that she couldn’t find the help she needed nor the inability to escape the addictions that had control over her. This was nothing short of terrible.

Of course, the following fear came that child services would take the boys away. But my dad and step-mother fought for custody of the boys and thankfully were awarded it. And to this day, they are doing the best they can while parenting as grandparents. They boys are doing so well, I’m happy to report. But one day, and my father has talked to me about this, he knows the boys will ask where their mother is, and why they don’t have one like all of the other kids. And he fears that conversation. He fears revisiting and telling them that their father has never wanted anything to do with them and that their mother was so involved with such horrible things that she couldn’t take care of them and eventually couldn’t even take care of herself. What a hard conversation to have with children. I can’t even imagine.

I asked the other teachers and staff to think about the children we have difficulties with, to think of the things we don’t know about in their home lives, the burdens they carry to school each day. Because sometimes, it only takes one family member to make life messy for everyone else. And when especially dealing with children, those background messes need to be considered.

I had to rush through this worship a little as you can probably imagine as it got a little long. But I left people crying and with deep thoughts. Because the truth is, sometimes life sucks. Life can be unfair. The devil is at work so much in our lives, trying to tear us away from our Father who loves us, and unfortunately he uses things like drugs and alcohol that have a way of hooking us and can be very difficult to get away from. Things like drugs and alcohol have a way of consuming people and making the gift of life that God has given us seem pointless. And unfortunately, I see the devil in much of Natalie’s life, laughing and smiling at her misery. And yet in the same scene, I see tears running down Jesus’ face as He watches the destruction of His daughter, the one He loves more than anything. It’s a sad scene, not an easy one to grasp and still not the easiest one to talk about. But as my father said, it’s important to use these stories to help prevent others from making the same mistakes and if this story will help someone, then it is worth talking about.

I didn’t workout today as it was a rest day, but I do hope that you reflect on this, especially if you or someone you know is suffering with addictions. Addictions are something so incredibly unfortunate and cause so much pain to everyone. Take intervention now. Pray that the God of healing, the God that has already defeated all evil in this world will help you overcome. Because there is no power greater than God’s.

The Madness Won’t End!

You will never believe this. I can hardly believe it!

So this week started with the extremely awful government call I had to make.

Then I had a student incident that has not been easy to deal with.

Then I had another incident with another student that also not been easy to deal with.

Then as I’m home getting ready to leave, I get a knock on the door. I’m immediately questioning who it could be because nobody ever comes to visit us and it is hours too early for any delivery vehicles.

Two words: Animal Patrol

Apparently, my neighbours did not stop at calling the landlord months ago. They called Animal Patrol a week ago. Seriously? I was shaking so bad.

I have never been happier to know that one of our dogs is going to live with my grandmother in New Brunswick on Tuesday. I don’t understand these people.

I live in a townhouse. I have my own outside doors. I only work 4 days a week. Prior to this, I lived in an apartment, surrounded by more people, with the same dogs, for almost 2 years without EVER having animal patrol called for any reason. Does this not tell you something?

I’ve only lived at this place for not even half a year yet. We came just before the summer. And yet my dogs have already had Animal Patrol called without ever coming to talk to me personally? Even though I’ve had many more people live around me for 2 years and never had problems? It’s not like I changed dogs…

And then come to find out, the officer asks me about the neighbour’s dog. The one that I’ve noticed has been gone for almost a month. I was immediately filled with a little bit of rage. Why do I have to be beside some of the worst neighbours?

Honestly, it takes A LOT to make me not like someone. I may get a little frustrated with people, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them. But I really don’t like my neighbours. I don’t like that it’s ok for them to have a ton of people out of their deck having a little party on a week night when others have to get up and go to work, but it’s not ok for me and my other neighbour to have dogs. This is a dog area. Most of the people who live in this section of townhouses have dogs. If you don’t like them, then you are in the wrong place.

So frustrated!

**As a side note, I know that I can’t stay this angry forever as it will only do damage to myself. Thus I am repeating and focussing on the prayer and verse below to help get rid of it. This is not easy…

Dear Righteous Father, I will not forget Your benefits as daily You help bear my burdens. Though I’m facing seemingly endless difficulties, I will not throw in the towel. I will set my eyes upon the hills and look forward with confidence of the future You have prepared for me; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord. Amen.

Psalm 103:2

Sometimes You Need to Let Go And Let God

Many of you know about my struggle, knowing that I have to get rid of a couple of my dogs for awhile. I dealt with anger, depression, and a series of mixed emotions for awhile. It’s been really hard. But through it all, I’ve learned something much better, much greater than the immediate situation at hand, and I’d like to tell you about that today.

I’ve always considered myself to be a Christian, though I can say I haven’t always been the strongest Christian. I’ve always believed in God, Heaven, and praying. My relationship with Christ has really gotten stronger since my senior year of high school, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Even though it felt like my world was being ripped apart, and I went through the thoughts of how many bad deals life has handed me, especially in the last couple years, how cowardly people can be, how my family won’t be the same, etc… I could easily tell you that God has a reason for this. I had no idea what it was, nor am I still certain I know, but I could easily tell you that, even though I didn’t necessarily feel good about it.

As the days have gone by, and my own thoughts of revenge were continuously being held in my head, I kept trying to focus on that same thought. God has a plan. God has a plan. God has a plan. I’ll be honest. Sometimes it was mere words and hard to believe. But as the days went on, I noticed a slight change in my mood.

Eventually, I realized, maybe this is my cue to leave where I live. I never wanted to move here in the first place. It was another unfortunate situation where I had already picked where I had wanted to go, was lied to, and put where my employers wanted me to be. Yes, I’ve learned a ton over my past two years here, but I don’t like the city. I will forever be a small-town girl. My husband doesn’t like the city. So why do we live here?

As I began searching other places, I began to notice restrictions depending on where we go if we planned to keep our whole family. It wasn’t as easy as I hoped it would be. Again, I don’t have a definite answer to this, but this whole experience has allowed me to see how truly unattached I am to where I live, how endless the possibilities could be if I’d step outside my comfort zone, to get out of the trap I feel like I’m in.

To be quite honest, my mood has improved quite a bit. I know God is trying to teach me something, though I may not know quite what it is yet. I don’t know the end results, but I know God does.

For a moment in my time, I considered just keeping them all anyways and fighting for my family, no matter what it took. But the more I concentrated on this thought, the more I had this feeling of making a mistake. I continued to pray about it, and realizing the feeling was only getting worse, decided I needed to do the best I could to remedy the situation. So the plan remained intact.

So here I sit today. Taking my girl to a vet visit, buying her the travelling things that she needs, and spending my last weekend I’ll have with her in awhile. She’ll be flying next week, but I have faith she’ll live with me again. My mother will take good care of her, and I will be searching hard to find the solution God has in place for me, the solution that will allow me to have all my babies at home with me in the place where they are loved beyond imagine.

Have you been holding onto something? Angry about an unfair situation? Take a minute to pray. Take a minute where you try to put away those feelings that you have, and think upon the fact that God has a purpose for this exact moment. Let go, and let God.

I’m About to do This My 27th Time and I Still Don’t Like It!

Doing something 27 times that you don’t even like seems crazy, doesn’t it? That’s because it is! Especially considering I haven’t hit my 27th birthday yet! And you would have total rights to call me crazy, if it had all been in my control. You see, these 27 same events spanned over my lifetime, starting from my newborn year. These 27 events are the amount of times I’ve moved. And yes, the 27th time is about to happen in less than a week. And no, I’ve never learned to enjoy it. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I quite detest it.

I’ll take you on a little history ride since it’s the only thing that seems to make sense to me. Whenever I look back on my life, I’m only able to recall the years and ages that things happened because of where I lived or what grade/school I was in at the time. My life has been compartmentalized in my mind because there are so many things involved that it only made sense to tie them to the place I was since those are the smallest divisions I could make. So here we go!

When I was born, my mother took me “home”. Now I call this place home because it was the first place I had known as home and we still own this house today. My mother in fact has done many amazing renovations to it (magazine-worthy kitchen) and is living there now. At the time I was born, my grandparents (her parents) were living there and so she herself went “home”.

Very shortly after, my father had arranged an apartment for us to live in. This was about an hour away from “home”, but it was my mother and father’s first home together. We didn’t stay here incredibly long as my father was looking for a permanent house.

My father did in fact find a permanent house of which he still lives in today. Of course he has done renovations to his house as well, but he is situated on a nice hill where you can eat your supper, look out and see the city lights twinkle in the night. Great location, and I distinctly remember having a blue sign on top of my bedroom door with my name followed by the word AVE. My room was named after me!

Things did not go so well between my father and mother, and after a couple years, my mother went “home”. I can remember my father visiting us sometimes, but they were unable to patch their relationship. By this time, my sister had entered the world and she was a very sick baby. My grandmother and my mother would take turns driving, walking, rocking, etc… all night long because she would cry and cry. My parents of course headed to divorce.

Not too too much later, my father met the man that would become my step-father. This of course meant that we would not leave the town we lived in, but we would relocate to his place. As convenient as it was to go to his place, I loved being able to stay in my hometown. Of course I wished my father and my mother would get back together, but after some hateful months, my step-father did become my friend. The best part about the town is that my family was where. My dad’s parents, his brothers and sister with their families which meant my cousins and I all went to the same school. My mom’s parents were obviously still there. Basically my family was all there except my dad. And I looked forward to the weekends I had with him.

After several years of being “home”, we had to leave my family behind, the only school I had ever known, the closeness I had grown up with (to this point). I was sad, there’s no denying it. We moved roughly 2 1/2 hours away into a rental farmhouse (no barns but lots of land). The house itself was pretty nice, and we were so far in the country that instead of a school bus picking you up, there was a man with a boat of a car that made several trips picking up students along the way. Talk about interesting! I can even remember a lady with baked goods coming to our door as she did once a week to sell her baked items. Talk about country living at it’s best! I made friends fairly easily here, although I missed “home” very much. The reason for this move was due to my step father’s job relocation as he drove truck at the time and had switched trucking companies.

After a year, it was time to leave again. Again my step father was getting closer to his trucking work, and so I lived in my first city. We lived in an apartment, in a school that was ok but that I didn’t feel like I quite fit in. We were required to play the ukulele and I had never seen one before. The other students had been playing for years and so I was expected to pick it up right away. I struggled, but we only remained in this place for a little over a month before we left again.

My step father was again relocated. I believe this next place was called a city, but it was indeed a very small one. Again we were in an apartment building in the basement. It was small, but we had the police department outside our front door. If anything, it was a safe place to be. I quite liked my school here, and although I had missed the first month, I jumped right in (no crazy musical requirements) and made tonnes of friends. I loved being here. Sometimes between this move and the previous two, my brother also joined our family which of course made a 2-bedroom apartment a tight fit with 5 of us in it.

But of course, once again we had to move when the year was over. This time, we returned to a farm. My parents had been looking for one, and they found a beautiful, old farm that had land reaching down to a large lake. So large you would almost second guess it was the opening to the ocean. On our property we had fields, forest, a pioneer cemetery, we owned half of an open pond, and all of a pond that I considered “magical”. It was surrounded by tree and you only knew it was there if you walked into that circle of mini-forest. The pond was spring-fed and little streams of trickling water would run through the forest from it. When you were inside the circle by the pond, the rest of the world would fade away and you were left in this magical place. This place will forever hold my heart. We stayed on the farm for 2 years. We had everything from cows, horses, pony, chickens (both meat and egg-laying), turkeys, quail, rabbits, dogs, cats, goats, etc. We had never been farmers in our lives and we jumped right in! It was fun and at the same time, so laborious! Here, I made one of my best friends. We spent so much time together that we became like sisters. We were the 3rd and 4th stops on the bus which meant it usually took us an hour on the bus to get to school in the mornings and an hour to get home. But we loved every minute. However, as work would have it, this is the time when my step-father no longer had a job and had to go west, and travel back and forth. So the decision was made to go west with him when school concluded that second year.

We sadly sold all of the animals on the farm, and packed up. My mother and brother right away left to go west with my step-father, but my sister and I stayed with our grandparents so we could spend more time with our father. So for the time being, our belongings were placed back at “home” and we travelled between the two places. I had never seen my dad cry in my life until the moment he found out we were leaving not just to another town or city, but to the other side of the continent. This was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced.

At the conclusion of the summer, my grandparents, my sister and I packed up the van and hit the road. It was a 4-day journey to cross the continent. I was ever so glad to be off the road when we finally made it. Our new place was a townhouse, again with only 2 bedrooms. We had a very short amount of time in this house as after 2 days, we decided to travel to the big city to show my grandparents around before they made their journey “home”. We had a great time with them, but I was extremely sad to see them leave. That was my last little bit of “home” that I had with me. And these were my mom’s parents who no matter what, no matter where we went, made sure they always came and saw us and always made sure we had what we needed. We drove back to our place while they took off for their next 4-day journey. I think I had a total of 4 days in this new place before we got the phone call, and my grandfather had died in a car accident on his way “home”. My grandmother had called from the hospital. She would later need surgery to re-align her nose. The friend they had driving with them broke several bones. My grandfather had simply not made it. This was probably the hardest thing that has ever really happened to my family. This is the man I had spent most of my life with, the man I knew would do anything in the world for me. I was his first grandchild, my mom was an only child. He took care of us more than any other person, he was always there. I went into severe denial over this. I mean, the man who has chased us his whole life, no matter where we moved, is gone? That just can’t happen! Of course, we immediately went “home”.

My mother jumped on the first plane possible. I remember her falling onto the ground as I was trying to hide around the corner and hear what the conversation was about. The only words I remember was right before my mom started crying, she said “Oh… Mom… “. I knew immediately what that meant. Nobody had to tell me anything. I just went into mental shock. So she jumped on the first plane, while we stayed at my great aunt’s farm for a few days until plane tickets were cheaper to fly the 4 of us home. I started school late that year which ended up being ok because it was the school I had started my life in and I still knew everything there, including my cousins. But the manner in which I started school again that year was different. I was now back to living in my “home”, but it was just my grandmother and I. The house held an empty void, one that took forever to sink in. You see, my grandfather had an office in “town” for his used car business that also had a bedroom in it for the nights he didn’t feel like coming home. It was so easy for me to just think that Grampy was at his office, and sometime he would come home. The rest of my family had moved back to my step-dad’s place as we have never sold that either. But I knew my grandmother needed someone to be there. I wanted to be there. It was so hard to accept he was gone. Even now as I sit here and remember this, tears fall freely from my eyes. A loss that was not and still is not easy to accept. But I was “home” where I definitely needed to be for the next couple years.

At the close of the 2 years, my family met to discuss the problems. My dad had run out of work options (as an electrician) and after talking to his boss, there would be no other options for quite awhile. My mother did not work as we were joined by my second baby brother. We had to move west again. We literally had come back from a campmeeting, and had one week to each pack a garbage bag with clothes and whatever we wanted. That was it. And we made the journey west again with 6 people in a 6 person car. The arrangements were made ahead of time for us to have a place. However, when we got there, we were told that nothing was arranged for us, and so our first living space became a suite at a local hotel. As exciting as this might be for a kid, it was not for us. Try going to school and having your new friends ask you where you live, and you say a one-bedroom suite at the local hotel. Not the greatest.

Thankfully, my mom met a couple at church who had divided their 3-level house into 3 living spaces. Their parents had owned the middle floor, but were on vacation and had no problems letting us use it. We were into a 2-bedroom which was better than 1, but it was still pretty full.

The top floor was being rented by an actual tenant and we were promised her place as soon as she left. She did leave, we moved up a floor, but this is where the problems began. My dad was travelling back and forth for work, and so my mom was left to deal with the issues. The issues were things like mice, bats, bugs, etc. And the landlord would yell at my mom instead of offering to fix the problems.

Thankfully, a friend of my mom’s told her that she could get out of there right away and temporarily we could live in a spare basement bedroom she had. Although this was a good gesture for getting us out of our current problem, can you imagine the 6 of us all living in 1-bedroom with all of our belongings? I don’t have to tell you that this did not last long.

I was in high school at the time, and my mom came running into the school one day with the intention of pulling me out of class. She was so upset that we couldn’t keep living the way we were, and with my dad working away like he was, I very quickly had assumed role of second adult in the family. My vice-principal pulled her into his office before she could get to my class. He very kindly asked her why she was crying and she told him everything. Fortunately, his twin brother was head of the university that shared the same campus, and said he would call and see if we could have one of the college apartments. And this became our next living place. It was right on campus of all of our schools which was easy for us to go to school and easy for friends to come over. We made friends very quickly and I even had some that lived right on campus in the dormitories which turned out to be a great arrangement. Of course, when we first moved in, we had no furniture and so we ate, slept, and did everything on the floor. Eventually, my dad had been working enough that we were able to afford the necessary items, beds, table, etc…

Although that had been a pretty good place, it was a college apartment and we were not a college family. Plus, we had an option to move about an hour away from this place and Dad would actually be able to come home every night from his job placement. At first, we did not have a house arranged, and as crazy as it sounds, we put most of our belongings in a storage unit and bought a fifth-wheel trailer. Yes, the 6 of us lived in a fifth-wheel trailer. The front of the trailer had a master bedroom, and the back of the trailer had 2 sets of bunkbeds, so the 6 of us did indeed fit. We were kind of outside a small city, of course in a campground. And as fun as this was, this did not help us get into school. We instead started homeschool for the first time ever as we lived in this trailer for approximately 4 months before the campground closed.

We did buy a house finally! We moved to the big city, had a nice house. We lived here for just about 2 years, and after I finished homeschool for that first year (and held my first full-time job), I then went back to an amazing school for my graduation year (and of course was forced to drop back down to part-time).

By the end of the two years, my oldest younger brother had been diagnosed with epilepsy which was hard on the family. They had him on so many different medicines, some that left him so angry he’d punch holes in the walls. My father’s job ended for him being able to come home every night, and was forced to go further away so he’d travel back and forth again. My mother needed the extra help, she needed to have more family. And so the decision was made. I would have to decide what university I was going to attend because my family was going back “home”. And to get our house ready to sell, we moved back into the trailer, into a different campground, where we lived for another 2 months. Camping, to me, has developed a totally different definition.

When my parents left, I decided I wanted to go back to the campus we had lived on before. Most of my friends would be attending that university, and I knew the teachers and the dorm supervisors and everyone pretty well. Of course, since they had both university and high school dorms, they decided my sister would stay with me, which meant we had to split a room. Now, it’s ok for a university student to stay with a high school student IF they are in the high school dorm. But not for a high school student to stay with a university student int he university dorm. This is something I struggled with. This meant I had to adhere to ALL of the high school rules. I had to be in the dorm by 7:30, lights out at 10:30 (times may be slightly off, but close). Room checks once a week (maybe even once a day). It was totally restricting.

After Christmas, they said that they were expecting an influx of high school students, so they asked if I would move to the university dorm. Of course this meant I could have some more freedom, but I also had to find a person that was looking for a roommate and ask to move in. I did find a girl that wasn’t so bad, though incredibly interesting at times. It was only for a few months anyway and it ended up not being bad at all.

When university ended, I was not allowed to fly home until my sister was done school two months later. So then, I left the university dorm, moved across campus again back into the high school dorm, but luckily enough had my own room this time. It was so nice to finally have a room to myself.

She ended school, we ended up driving home with my step-dad, and only I came back out. They decided my sister wasn’t read to leave home yet. So this time, I actually spent the whole year in the university dorm with a roommate that had actually arrived after me, but was very studious and quiet. I spent most of my time with my new best friend up in her room anyways. All-in-all, it was a pretty good year.

The next year, I had made arrangements to move out of the dorm. I was tired of the bills, the extreme cost of cafeteria food, and was ready to make it on my own for the first time. I moved into a bedroom of one of the staff on campus. They inhabited the basement while they rented out 3 bedroom upstairs. My best friend also moved into one of the bedrooms. I absolutely loved living in this house for the last two years of my education. It was nice to have all that freedom, cook your own food, invite people over if you wanted to, no curfews, it was great!

When college ended, and I got my first job, I had to relocate as I was definitely unwilling to drive almost an hour each day to get to work. A girl I had graduated with got a job at the same school I had and so we were able to rent a very nice apartment and split the cost. This worked well for a year, but I had gotten engaged in that same year, as well as my sister was travelling back and forth from working for my step-dad, and you could tell my roommate didn’t like my people there as often as they were. She enjoyed having people around, just not the two I had and I ended up spending quite a bit of time either locked in my bedroom or out of the house walking around malls or wherever just to get out of the house.

And thus brings me to my present-day apartment. My job at the previous place was only a maternity leave, and had ended. My next permanent placement was here, in the big city I live in. I wanted to move out of my other place fairly quickly, so I looked for a place that was fairly cheap based on the size. We have had a few problems in this place, but overall, I don’t regret coming here first. This was my husband and my first home together. We have come to outgrow this place is the problem. It is a small apartment.

The next place we’re moving, next week, is a townhouse. A 2-bedroom with a large basement. It’s not the newest, but it’s pretty nice. It doesn’t have the large yard I’d like to have for the dogs, but it’s better than nothing. Right now it takes me about 1/2 hour to get to work, and it should take less than 5 minutes at the new place. When you consider big city stop-and-go traffic, it will save us so much money on gas. There will finally be enough room for our stuff. There will be a place I can have an office for my home businesses. I am so looking forward to this new place, as much as I hate moving. It’s so much work, but I think in the end, it will be worth it.

Now, the sad part is, I know this won’t be my last move. I don’t know where I want to be, but I know it’s not in this city. My husband has not yet received his papers and so I’m the only one who is able to work which means I have to maintain my job. And I do love my job, but I don’t love this city. I will always be a small town girl at heart. And someday, I’ll figure out where that place for me to be is.

When It Rains, It Definitely Pours! Smile Anyway!

Hello everyone. It has been an incredible journey (you can decide whether it was bad or good) since my last post. This is probably one of my first “down-time” moments I’ve had in the last month. Crazy!

So last time I wrote, I was in the Phoenix, AZ airport, awaiting my plane to Los Angeles. Tired. My plane to Los Angeles was on time and absolutely fine. However, according to the new tickets they had given me, I was supposed to change airlines. Weird, eh? So I was now switching airlines (of whose names I will not post to avoid hard feelings). I quickly found out that the LA airport is HUGE and of course the two airlines were in different terminals. For those of you who don’t know, the airport has 9 terminals. It’s crazy. They have their own bus shuttle service to get you around to the different ones.

Anyways, so I jump on the shuttle, he takes me to the new terminal, and I wait in line. I get to the counter, show them the computer printout I had been given, and the nightmare began. I was told I had a reservation, but there was no ticket in my reservation. Of course this sounded absolutely ridiculous but I asked what I needed to do. She simply told me to go back to the other airline and just request for them to do it again. So back I walked.

When I arrived back at the original airline, I told my story. The lady looked at me like I was ridiculous but complied and did the whole booking process again and also gave me printed out ticket vouchers that stated the exact plane I was supposed to be on. Seriously, they looked just like airline tickets, except for the word coupon on them. This was supposed to make the process easier.

So once again, I walked over (I had given up on waiting for shuttle). Mind you, the walking is significant as I had packed all of my new books in my carry on which made it weigh my shoulders down, as well as my purse which people tell me I must pack bricks in. So I am tired AND worn out AND frustrated.

I get back to the other airline only to notice the line has doubled. I think I waited close to half hour before reaching the counter. Possibly even 40 minutes. I got to the counter, explained the whole story again, and wouldn’t you know, I now have THREE reservations, and still no tickets. So I took a deep breath and handed her the the coupon tickets that I had received and showed her that I’m supposed to be on the next plane, the $300 was covered by the coupon, etc… She told me to hold on one minute, got on the phone and did whatever she did. Only to get off the phone and hand the coupon tickets back to me and tell me there was nothing she could do. I seriously think my jaw dropped to the floor. Then I told her that even I could read the coupon tickets and tell her I’m supposed to be here right now and getting on the next flight. She told me that yes, I should be there, but there was nothing she could do. I would have to go back to the original airline and tell them to get me a different flight.

Can you imagine? I was ready to just bawl my eyes out. Stuck in the states, not with my husband, can’t get to Canada, maybe not even make it for the wedding, and almost no outlook of getting out of Los Angeles. But I got myself together and walked back to the other terminal; to the original airline.

When I reached there, the lady from the counter saw me and asked why I was back. I told her the whole story, still trying not to burst right out in tears. She actually told me that I had the actual ticket and that I needed to march back there and tell them to take it. And I simply looked at her with a painstaking (and probably horribly tired-looking eyes) face and told her that I wasn’t going back there because I was going to miss the flight anyways and there was no way they were going to take it.

The lady looked at me and told me to hold on before disappearing behind a grey door. And there I stood, for close to 20 minutes, not knowing how this day would turn out. Not knowing where I would go.

The lady came out and basically insulted the other airline, telling me that she wasn’t sure what their problem was and that they were “playing games” and then took a very sympathetic tone with me. She gave me two options, one of switching to another airline and making it home by 11:00 p.m. or staying with their airlines and making it home by 12:15 a.m. I told her I don’t care about the hour difference, I’m sticking with this airline because I just want to go home.

I had a long wait at the airport. But eventually I was back on a flight to Phoenix (never should have left there in the first place) and then on the flight to Edmonton.

Now of course I was relieved just to make it back, even though I was 24 hours late, super tired, and worn out. But it hit me that I had no idea where my checked bags would be. I already knew they would not be on the belt when they unloaded the suitcases. I hadn’t seen mine since I had left Colorado.

I waited at the belt to be sure, but of course they were not there. I casually walk over to luggage services, and they trace my bags back to Los Angeles. I told the lady that it would make sense and gave her a brief overview of the story and signed papers for them to be delivered and authority for a customs check.

As I’m almost out the airport doors, the luggage lady runs after me and says to hold on and that they found one of my bags. So I said ok, and she took me back through customs to claim my bag.

Then as I’m leaving the airport a second time, the luggage lady runs after me again asking if I didn’t mind sitting because she had one more place she’d like to check. So I sat, knowing that late night/early morning hours don’t really matter at this point anyways, and there she came, rolling my other suitcase! Hallelujah! One thing down!

Then I took a taxi to my sister’s place, had a quick shower, packed her belongings as well as mine, and took a taxi to my place as she is moving in.

I don’t like the situation she was in at the place she was living in. There are a great deal of things that I don’t agree with that her boyfriend does and the way he treats her, and her life is somewhat a mess. So she is here temporarily to get her feet back on the ground, get a job, get her ID so she can get a job, and hopefully see the destruction in her relationship. Please, please pray for her. The relationship is not a healthy one.

So we get here, and I get a total of 2 hours of sleep before I have to get up. Because I was a day late, that gave me less time for the appointments for the wedding, less time to get my sister settled in, and really less time for anything and everything.

So I began with a trip to the mall to get my sister a bus pass. She would need it to get around the city and I would have to teach her how to use the busses. As we went around and I completed my nail appointment that day, before I knew it, it was time to go to the rehearsal dinner. Oh boy.. I hit the ground running.

The rehearsal dinner went fine, and of course everyone was asking me about why my husband wasn’t there, my flight story, etc.

That night, I had 5 hours of sleep before I had to get up to SQUEEZE in an eyelash appointment, and a spray tan to try and cover my horrible tan lines (didn’t work) as well as continue teaching my sister how to use the bus system. I literally got home and right away had to go to my friend’s house to get ready for bachelorette evening. No time, no time.

Bachelorette evening went off without too much of a hitch. I stayed the night at the bride’s house since it was late, got up with them Saturday morning, and went to church. After church we had a family potluck, and then the bride’s father (who knows me very well) told me I should go home and take a nap before the gathering potluck later because he could see I desperately needed sleep. However, when I got dropped off at home, I realized my ticket to visit my family in New Brunswick was booked for 1:30 the next night, the night of the reception! I would have not a drop of time to pack tomorrow! Needless to say, instead of napping, I spent my time emptying out my old suitcases (no time for laundry) and packing everything ahead of time for my NB trip. This took quite awhile as I was also trying to pick up a few things so my sister could feel slightly more at home and had to take a trip to grocery store so my sister had food to eat while I was gone. I was rushing and rushing and rushing with no time to rest.

I called when I had finished packing and knew it was about time for the bbq to start, so I got picked up, went over and ate, and headed to the church at 9:30 p.m. I don’t think we left the church from decorating and planning until at least 12:30 a.m. What a night…

Funny thing is, the hair lady wasn’t supposed to arrive until 9:00 a.m., but had been surprised by her husband with a surprise vacation and thus needed to arrive at 7:00 a.m. Opportunity for some extra sleep = gone!

But the wedding day was amazing, and I was incredibly satisfied with the way everything looked and how I looked despite my intense sleep deprivation, and we had so much fun at the reception. Now, the reception did end at 10:00 (not that everyone left at this time) but I had to rush right out the door, before even the bride and groom, in order to make it to my place to change and then to the airport to check in enough time before my flight. I would be so glad when this rush is over…

I did make it, my flights were fine, but I was so exhausted, hungry, and just plain worn out.

It was nice to be in NB with my family, in a small community instead of being in the large city. I was missing my husband horribly and needed sleep incredibly badly. I slept so much for a few days. I was tired all the time.

But I really did have a good visit. Spent quite a bit of time in St. Andrews. If you have never been to St. Andrews, New Brunswick, Canada, GO! You’re on the ocean, it’s a quaint little town, and even the restaurants have the option of their patios which are on the beach of the ocean. It honestly does not get any better than that. It’s a place of calm and peace with some really nice and unique stores on the main st. The food is amazing as everything is local and fresh, the fish are freshly caught and sold right on the dock in the middle of main st. Everyone is so friendly and just happy and smelling the ocean air day after day is incredible. The breeze, the sunsets and the sunrises with their reflections on the water. The botanical gardens, the whale watching adventures, the sport fishing, and even the new shark fishing are just the most amazing. (Disclaimer: you aren’t “hunting” to kill sharks. There has been a huge amount of sharks moving into the Bay of Fundy and so you are with a trained professional to capture sharks and tag them so they can keep better track. Thrill of a lifetime!)

I was able to visit all of my grandparents, including my two great grandmothers: 87 and 95!! They both still live on their own and although one has beginning dementia and the other has heart problems, they’re still both in good humour and attitude! Oh yes, my great grandmothers have their own little quirks. They got some sass left! 🙂

I missed my husband incredibly, and was drudging the idea of returning to the city. I wanted to stay in the relaxing environment and just feel the ocean breeze day after day. But lo’ and behold, it was almost 3 weeks in NB and I had to go.

Now I cried a lot on the way back as well. One reason being that my family was going through some issues and I felt bad leaving them that way. The second reason being that my biological father doesn’t always completely open up about how he feels. But this time he did and he didn’t want to see me leave. I can imagine there were tears shed, although he didn’t mention that part. So that made it incredibly hard. And the third and most dooming reason was that I knew I was returning to my apartment, my husband’s and my first home we called ours, and he wasn’t going to be there. That was incredibly hard to swallow. I never had time to face that fact until that time. Let’s just say, I was a tear-running mess.

I made it back home without and travel problems, of course it was the wee hours of the morning, and had to get up and get tons of things done. I am and was then currently starting a brand new fitness challenge, as well as being involved in a Mary Kay challenge (I’m a Mary Kay Independent Beauty Consultant as well). So I had certain foods to buy, things for school were needed since I had to be at work the next day, etc…

Monday came, I showed up at work. Got a bit done, but we had a Love & Logic meeting that took some time. If you are having discipline problems, I highly recommend the Love & Logic program. Excellent for saving you extra stress!

Tuesday came, got some work done, but sat through a very long staff meeting. Ended up with a headache and pretty much got nothing I wanted to have done, done.

Wednesday came, got more work done, but sat through a long core group meeting. *Sigh… these meetings start to wear on you.

Thursday came, got probably the most amount of work done, came home and continued with the fitness program (which I had been doing everyday). Also on Thursday, I realized that the schedules for classes, as they were made, actually wouldn’t work. They had double booked my kids for two classes they are required to take. Oh boy! Let’s just say the other teachers did not want to change their schedules that they had already finalized to accommodate. Some serious anger going around.

Thought we had the issue fixed in a very painless way for everyone, only to wake up Friday and realize that our new solution won’t work either. Another conflict for my kids. And so it was taken to official hands and out of mine. It was Friday, school starts Monday. Not looking so good. Not to mention that our field and playground are completely torn up by renovations (actually a sea of dirt, no grass in sight) and we’re not sure what we’re doing about recesses yet.

But since Friday was here, I needed to get around and get some things done. Basically everything went well and the actual working solution to my scheduling problem was found.

Now I’d like to insert a huge blessing at this point because it definitely needs mentioning. When I had mentioned switching a gym period with another teacher, it was received with frustration and anger. Mind you the teachers reminded me it wasn’t towards me but they were unwilling to change their schedules. Normally I’m a very easily hurt person, but with all the craziness going on, I just kinda shoved it off. That same day, a couple hours later, those upset teachers came to the office, passed me on the way and asked if it was solved yet and I had said no not yet as I continued walking past (on my way to photocopier). They had gone to the office, but I hadn’t seen why. Later that evening, the secretary who of course is always busy with getting stuff ready for the beginning of school, busy taking care of registrations and parents coming in and uniform measurements and ordering, sent me a message. She was simply asking if I was ok because she had seen everything going on. I can’t tell you how much I love this woman! I can seriously accredit half of my survival the last year and some to this woman. God knew I would need her, and need her I did. Sometimes it just takes someone like that to boost your spirits, and it definitely did. I will continue to sing her praises as she is one of the most selfless women I have ever met.

So then comes Saturday. I’m out walking, and seriously had to cross maybe 6 feet of grass to get back on pavement, and the grass was kind of long, probably needing a mowing soon, and before you know it, I’m down on the ground and pounding the earth with my fist. I look behind me, and my foot is straight down in the ground, toes in first and heel sticking straight up. A gopher hole of all things. Obviously this was an old gopher hole as the grass had grown back out of the hole, thus the reason for not seeing the hole and of course the grass was the same height as the rest. I couldn’t believe it. 3 days until school starts, because of the new scheduling changes, I’m on recess duty alone once a day, and there goes my foot. *Sigh… off to the hospital.

At the hospital, the doctor did the x-rays and whatever. He said that it was just a bad sprain and his advice was “Let your pain be your guide” which resulted in no crutches or anything. I had my sister wheeling me around in a wheel chair while we were in the hospital, but no crutches for home. So, the hopping began. 3 busses and a ton of hopping and tiredness on the one leg and out of breath and sweat was horrible. I was not prepared. They had offered me pain killers at the hospital but I told them as long as I didn’t use the foot, it was fine.

Well, the man’s “Let your pain be your guide” philosophy definitely was not great advice. When I got home last night, my foot just throbbed! It was the pain that is achy and not stabbing like a knife but so uncomfortable that you’re wincing in pain just to find a position that will keep it from throbbing so badly.

I elevated it, iced it, heat packed it, and eventually was able to fall asleep after some Advil kicked in.

So today I’m supposed to get groceries. I was supposed to go to the school to finish up before the kids come. I’m supposed to be doing a new workout today to continue my fitness program. I’m supposed to be up and working my Mary Kay business to continue my challenge. And I’m here on the couch with an elevated foot.

*Sigh… not sure how this is all coming together, but somehow I know God will bring me through. At the hospital I had no choice but to smile and laugh. How ridiculous was it that I was walking a few hours before, I was busy but was getting things done, and yet here I sat in a wheelchair. Suddenly immobile when I needed to be mobile the most. I have a total new appreciation for people who have to live in wheelchairs everyday. My 2 hours in a wheelchair is nothing like the endless days, months, and years that these people endure. I’m so proud of them. Seriously am. It’s fun when you’re a kid to pretend you need a wheelchair, but not when you’re older. You become so conspicuous and everything becomes more difficult. If you are reading this and use a wheelchair, I have huge respect for you and appreciation for you! You are incredible!

So needless to say, I’m still trying to work things out in my mind. Recovery is set for a couple weeks. I have recess duty in 2 days. I have school in 2 days, and I also travel on bus. It’s not a good combination, especially for someone that does not have crutches or any type of assistance. But here I go. Another trial, another determined breakthrough.

I suppose that I also should mention that Canadian VISA is on strike (found out at the wedding) and thus NO VISAS are being processed except for a few student VISAs. Which means I have no idea how long before they’ll continue working on my husband’s paperwork so he can join me once again. Just another addition to my list 🙂

So I hope you guys know, and can kinda see that yes, when it rains, sometimes it does pour! It’s never pleasant, and quite frankly, it just sucks. But God does not allow you to bear more than you can handle (1 Corinthians 10:13) and if you can manage to stay positive, even through the worst of things, how much stress will you alleviate from yourself! I encourage you to know that you can make it through what you’re going through. I believe in you. We will fight this battle of the world together. Just stand strong, look at your troubles, and smile. You will get through this!