I Wonder If I Argue Too Much…

Sometimes I take a minute to sit back and reflect over what I do, whether it’s the direction my life is going in, or the way I handled a situation.

Recently, I’ve started thinking about my part in online discussions or arguments. In the past, I was the child who never spoke out. It was so bad, I would even have my younger sister go to the counter of a restaurant to get something they forgot to give me (even something as small as ketchup!).

When I first became (seriously) Christian, it was the same way. I was too scared that I didn’t know enough to speak out, or that I would be ridiculed because of information I didn’t have the answer to.

When I became vegan, it was the same thing. I didn’t feel I knew enough to speak out because I wasn’t the most “educated” or didn’t know “all the right answers”.

But as I continued to watch everyone else, I realized that you will never know everything. And besides, the best argument you have is your personal testimony, no matter whether it’s veganism, Christianity, or anything else. Nobody can argue what you’ve experienced. They can only argue facts and somehow even opinions (though I think everyone should be allowed an opinion).

The very first argument I ever felt brave enough to enter was between an atheist and a Christian. I couldn’t stand the picture of Christianity that the Christians were displaying that I felt compelled to go in and clear up the awful view. No, I was not trying to convert the atheist, I simply was explaining things she clearly had questions about and had been given a bad taste and picture of previously. By the end of the hour+ long conversation, she actually thanked me, and though she said she would not be considering becoming Christian at the time, she thanked me for being so understanding and being patient with my answers while explaining things in a different light than she had previously been shown.

To me, that should be the point of an argument or discussion. It shouldn’t be to fight or to prove one side better than the other. Of course I believe Christianity is the way, but I’m not going to force it down other peoples’ throats. God gave me my freedom of choice, so who am I to take it away from others? I can only present information and leave it up to them.

The next argument I ever went in on was not the same way. In fact, I got told to go take a nap along with being called many names. My whole point in that argument was that you can love people without supporting their actions. For example, you can love your child without supporting their drug use. You can support them for the good things, show them outwardly love, and even include them in normal things. But when an action they are doing goes against your beliefs or causes harm to either them or others, you don’t have to support that action. In no way does that mean you stop loving that person. But the group, or at least some people in that group, couldn’t accept that. I don’t know if I didn’t explain myself well enough, but I was in that conversation for several hours. It came to the point that I understood Christians were not going to be supported in that vegan group, and I respectfully excused myself from the group.

I don’t intervene in everything I see on the internet that I disagree with, but when it comes to things that harm others, when it comes to peoples’ health, or when it comes to slandering Christians, I try to go in and paint a different picture. Some people are accepting, some people will never be kind no matter what you say. I’ve been called a heap of names and been criticized against sometimes it seems like anything I say. Even when I’m remaining as polite as I can and stating again and again that nobody has to believe the same as I do, and that I will respect what they believe just as I would expect them to respect what I believe. It is possible to live in harmony without believing the same things (just look at the conversation with the atheist and I). But for some reason, I’m finding more and more people who cannot leave it that way.

I had a fellow Christian follow one of these conversations and eventually tell me that I should just end my conversation because the others (the main of which was apparently Hindu) was just going to keep coming up with every slandering thing and continue saying the worst possible portraits of Christianity they could. I just found it so sad. Sad that first of all, someone had views like that of what can be the most amazing faith. I know a lot of Christians call themselves Christian while living a very different life. Sad that also, someone who was a self-proclaimed “vegan” that is supposed to be filled with so much love could be so hateful towards Christians who honestly had done nothing wrong in this conversation but speak of the original diet in the Garden of Eden (vegan diet!). But as the other Christian woman suggested, I quit responding, despite the fact I continued to get blamed for things and called names in further comments.

I think about that conversation, and I continue to think of how I could have done it differently, what I might have done wrong. But the thing is, in every comment, I approached it in a very much “my experience was…” manner. I didn’t say that her beliefs were wrong, and I never discriminated against her, even telling her that I would continue to respect her and her choices. I don’t really want to continue the conversation, and I won’t, even though it’s hard to know that my name has been continued on in the conversation very negatively. I just don’t get it.

It makes me think… is there a point to me joining in these conversations? Is there a point when I’m just going to be downgraded and slandered by so many people? But then I also think of the vegan community who promotes standing up for those who are voiceless. I do think if you’re passionate about something, you shouldn’t just remain quiet about it, whether through actions or words. So do I just hold back my passion now that I finally feel brave to stand up for people? I mean, Christians in some of these groups literally get POUNDED into the ground by others, called every name in the book, their faith literally ridiculed up and down. I guess I feel like just by saying something (though again, not in a forceful way, often in a soft, from experience type of way) that they at least know someone is in their corner with them. I’m not afraid of being Christian. I’m not afraid of being vegan. I’m not ashamed of the things I believe. So if I get called names, it really doesn’t bother me. I don’t get as “heated” about these things as clearly others do. Temper control is not an issue for me in these conversations and part of me wonders if that’s what makes some people so mad. I don’t swear, I don’t believe in calling people names, I’m not that kind of person.

I don’t know… is it worth it or is it not? I guess I have just come to a place in my life where I’m content… maybe even more than content. For non-Christians, I know they won’t understand this, but for Christians who have experienced God saving their lives, they will know what I’m talking about. I can honestly say I’m filled with the joy of the LORD which makes everything surmountable. Months when we have less income, I don’t freak out anymore, because when I had no idea how we were going to survive before, God provided the money. I’ve totalled 2 cars, one that I in no way should have walked away from, but God protected me. I used to be so scared to face my mistakes and of punishments I may receive, but through God I know I have the strength to face whatever comes my way. I use to be so OCD about making sure everything was a certain way, but now I’m ok if things change. Even at work, when a wrench gets thrown in my plans, I don’t care. I’ve learned that nothing can be set in stone, but whatever may happen, God always provides. There is honestly little that upsets me. And why wouldn’t I want others to know that same feeling? Can you imagine a world where there was no stress, no worry, no panic? Can you imagine how much happier everyone would be? Can you imagine the amount of stress-induced illnesses that could be prevented? How can people not want a life like that?

Again, I’m not trying to force my lifestyle and faith down peoples’ throats. I always approach it in a way that I can share my experience and they can make their own choices past that. If that’s so wrong, then I don’t know how any conversation can take place. So I don’t know… what do you guys think? Is it worth the interjection in hopes that two fighting groups can maybe be a little more understanding and live in harmony? Or is it just a waste of energy? Maybe I try to play the “peacemaker” a little too much… I don’t know. Tell me what you think in the comments below.

A Maritime Way of Life

Recently, I have returned from my vacation visiting my family in New Brunswick for almost two weeks. I love returning home. There truly is no place like home. ❤

Going home is so important to me each year because it’s a break away from my daily “big city life”. Home, is a wee bit of redneckville mixed with a slow-paced existence. It’s the perfect combination.

In New Brunswick, it is totally and regularly possible that you may be the only car on the highway at any given time. Let me repeat that: At any time, you may be the only vehicle on the highway. That NEVER happens in the city.

Famous Hartland Covered Bridge. The longest one left standing!

New Brunswick is full of trees and rivers. Not just any trees either. New Brunswick is called the “Picture Province” for a reason: it has the most BEAUTIFUL variety of autumn colours you’ll ever see. And since the forests are everywhere with gorgeous lakes running through the province, the view is breath-taking. One day my mom and I even played “tourist” in our own province because it was such a beautiful day and the scenery along the drive overwhelmed us. It’s amazing when your own province can cause those awe-inspired feelings inside of you. I can tell you certainly the city does not do that for me at all.

In New Brunswick, nobody ever seems in a hurry. I’m sure people may be rushed for appointments or work in the morning, but honestly, you never feel a sense of rushing around. There seems to be so much time, so much laid-backness that you don’t get that crazy time-strapped feeling. Can you imagine life that way? I think it’s definitely something I used to take for granted when I lived there. I would give anything not to feel that way here in the city… the city that never has enough time for all that you need to do. And maybe that’s just the point…

In a smaller province, you don’t see as many people working themselves to death. New Brunswickers know how to have fun and how to get work done in a smaller amount of time. Families have time for families. Now, granted, a lot of people are on welfare because the economy is not the greatest, but even the people who do work still get together in LARGE groups of friends and spend time with their families every day. I can tell you as a big city teacher, this is something I don’t see often.

Now, why did I put LARGE groups of friends above? Well, when you live in smaller places, you know more people, and generally, in smaller places, all of the people get together. If someone’s having a party at their house, feel free to stop in. It’s an open door policy. Everybody knows everybody, and if you don’t know someone, know that you will be going through the stages of figuring out whether you’re to be trusted and accepted in the group or not.

It truly is an open door policy. People have less places to be, and more time to be home. So if you feel like visiting anyone, there is rarely a chance you need to call before going over. In fact, people LOVE when you stop in to visit. All the time I just go over to whoever’s house and knock on the door and never once will you be turned away unless of course someone is busy which of course, as stated above, doesn’t usually happen. And even if they are busy, they will stop to talk. It’s just the way they generally are.

Four-Wheelers (also known as ATVs or Quads) and snowmobiles are accepted methods of transportation and are regularly used. Due to the economy in the Maritimes, New Brunswickers use four-wheelers and snowmobiles as cheap methods of transportation. Most places in the country areas or small towns are accessible by these methods, and thus save on money. Gas is also more expensive in NB so it saves on gas as well. They are also a form of recreation. I basically grew up on a four-wheeler; it was the first real thing I learned how to drive on my own. I LOVED when my entire family would go on day trips. We’d make a stop at the local convenience store for gas and some snacks (all 8 wheelers of us) and then head out for the day. Most of NB’s railways have been dug up, so the trails that are left are super easy to travel on, not to mention the off road trails we’d venture out on. In the city, you don’t even have a chance to do this unless you have a truck to haul your machine outside the city to some acceptable place. In NB, go out into your back yard and begin.

There is rarely a person who will walk by without saying hello to you, nor a car that will drive by without waving at you. The reason for this? Most NBers are just friendly people. Definitely not a city thing…

Snowmobile parking lots truly exist in the winter.

New Brunswickers aren’t worried about the newest and greatest things. They could care less if they owned everything designer or if their house was brand new. In fact, that’s one thing I love about New Brunswick. They maintain houses that are hundreds of years old, some that are still cared for and lived in by families. You don’t get sick of seeing the same house after the same house as you do in the city. You actually get to see real architecture, large mansions of houses from people of old, molded tin ceilings, stained-glass windows, etc… The houses are simply beautiful! And even some houses that aren’t as grand that are 50+ years old are still loved and lived in, in New Brunswick. People (mostly) have respect for items. It’s not a “Oh I’ll just wait until the next one comes out… ” or “I need a new _________ that’s bigger and better.” They simply live for what they can afford and don’t lay around complaining about what they don’t have. I mean, here in the city, people complain, there are massive line-ups for items to come out the next day, people are throwing away perfectly functional items just because they’ve become “outdated”. It’s such a breath of fresh air to go to somewhere that people aren’t completely consumed with consumerism. People know and can appreciate a good find at the DollarStore. People know how to hunt for bargains that will keep them going. Brand new cars? Aside from my mother, my step father and myself, I can’t really tell you anyone else in my family who has ever bought a new car. They always buy used because it’s cheaper and it gets them by. I love the whole mindset. In fact, in this recent trip, my father quoted me this, “I don’t look at things as how long I can afford them; I look at things as how long can I keep them.” Amazing.

It’s so much more family-oriented. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but it’s rare for a family not to spend regular time together. And I’m not talking just the parents and kids, I mean aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins, etc. Everytime I go home, I spend the majority of my time visiting relatives because that’s who I grew up with and was close to. My great aunts and uncles, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, my parents and siblings, my great grandmothers, everyone. I grew up in a close but large family, and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. From what I gather from most of my students, many of them rarely see their extended family. In fact, it’s usually only for family reunions. I love that I don’t have to wait for a reunion. I just get up and go, knock on the door, and then sit for hours talking. It’s seriously the best.

I’m sure I could keep writing on this topic and all the things I love about the Maritime life. And of course, these won’t apply to everyone. But being born a small-town, Maritime (NB) girl, I still feel this way about my province every time I go home. In fact, my dad commented how I still call NB home, but that’s because it always will be. I love the way of life there and it will always be my breath of fresh air.

When I Realized My Grandfather Really Wasn’t Coming Back

Something happened today that really jarred my memory and brought me to write this post. I saw the following picture on Facebook and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

It took me right back to the moments where I can remember thinking about him and instantly started crying. Even now writing this, I can feel the water filling up in my eyes. I know many of you will say that you have/had an awesome grandfather to, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about mine, and how special he truly was.

I guess it starts when my mother became pregnant with me. My parents were not married. I guess my grandfather liked my dad, but he was very upset about the whole situation and didn’t talk to my mother for days. However, being the man that he was, he still bought her a crib and everything she would need for me, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He was always that way, taking care of things even when he was upset.

Of course, as soon as I was born, he was completely smitten. My mother is a child of two, but lived very much a single child’s life. She never met her brother as he died on a surgery table a few months after he was born. That meant, I was the first and only grandchild.

My parents didn’t stay together very long. They did get married after I was born, but separated when I was about 4, officially divorcing when I was around 5. Where do you think we went back to? My grandparents. In fact, their home was very much “home base” my entire life.

My grandfather always spoiled me (and later my other siblings). I have pictures where my toys barely fit in the picture with me. My father told me that I would get tired of opening gifts because there were simply so many. I had this 6″+ man wrapped around my tiny finger. There’s no denying he loved me.

My grandfather was a used car salesman. In fact, it was my mother’s company that he worked for her since she dropped out of college to be home with me. The company was even named after my sister and I. But eventually he took over the company and changed its name since he did become the only one running the business.

I used to love visiting him at his office. My grandmother and I would get lunches for him, he would let me sit in his office chair, I would be called his “Number 1 Dudette”, and I loved the fact that everywhere we went, people always knew and respected my grandfather, and thus treated me as if I was a special person. I had never met anyone who didn’t know or like my grandfather.

If you could imagine the biggest realistic playground in the world, that would be my grandfather’s car lot. He gave me access to all the keys and vehicles in his lot. I can still remember the amount of fun we had pretending to drive the cars, and especially in exploring the only RV I remember him having. Only once did he ask me to backup a truck into a corner spot. My mother sat in the passenger seat with me, and I remember learning really quick to use my mirrors. I was so scared I would mess up his vehicles in this tight spot. But I did it! I still can’t believe he trusted me…

If I could compare him to anything, it would very much be the godfather. I’m not joking when I say that everyone seemed to know who he was. He was an amazing man when he was happy, but he was always a man you feared when he was unhappy. I don’t remember him every getting mad at me, but it was a general rule that when he came home, the remote control to the television had to be in the right spot for him to lay on the couch and watch what he wanted. He became upset if the remote went missing. There were just certain things you knew not to do.

Sometimes, my grandmother and him would fight. I’m sure there’s not a couple in the world who has not at least had one argument. Sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, this meant he would stay at his office for the night. It was a conveniently built, small building that contained 3 rooms and a tiny hallway. One room was “the office”. The second room was of course a washroom. And the third room was his bedroom. It contained only a tv, a bed, and a mini fridge. It pretty much had everything he needed if he needed a night away. So it was a fairly normal occurrence for him not to come home sometimes.

The best thing about my grandfather was that he was always there for us. There was a time when we didn’t have the most money, and work was slow. My grandfather always provided what we needed, and then some. Most of you know that I have moved like 20 times with my family, not including on my own. The one person who was always there, regardless of where we were, was my grandfather. He never missed an opportunity to come and stay with us. (Of course I should say my grandmother always came with him as well, but I will dedicate a post to her another day.) He was honestly one of the biggest constants in my life.

When my family made the official decision to move from the east coast to the west coast, my grandparents offered to bring my sister and I out at the end of summer so that we could spend the extra time with our father. It was a fair bit of a long drive, but even then my grandfather trusted me with reading the map (before GPS systems). I almost think his belief in me helped me grow to the independent woman I am today. I have a lot to credit him for.

They stayed with us at our new place for a few days. Early in the morning, him and I would get up and drive to a hotel or another homey restaurant to eat. He was not a chain-restaurant type of person. Even back in the town he worked, he had one particular restaurant he preferred to eat at, and everybody knew his specials and what he enjoyed eating. He always preferred the homestyle cooking. In fact, he met my grandmother while she was waitressing at such a type of restaurant. My family and I have visited that restaurant a few times and imagined what it must have been like. They still have the juke boxes and the old stools. Sometimes it’s nice to preserve history rather than to embrace change.

We then took a trip to the “big city” so my grandparents could see it before they left. We had a lot of fun. At one point, we lost my grandfather in the big mall. I’ll never forget him driving around on those motorized scooters for people who can’t walk well. He had even gotten an orange smoothie and I guess spilled it all over the machine. If you knew my grandfather like I did, you would picture him using colourful language for the time he was mad, then acting like nothing ever happened.

I don’t remember how we ever found him, but I can tell you it was one of the hardest good-byes of my life.This wasn’t just moving a few hours away, this was a four day drive across the country. Of course they would come visit again, but the visits would never be as frequent as before. What I didn’t know was that my tears would get worse before they ever got better.

Literally two or three days after we returned to our new home, I got a call from my grandmother. It sounded like her for sure, but something was a little different. She asked to speak to my mom pretty much right away, so I gave my mom the phone and sat on the landing of the stairs. My mother took the phone into her room which was at the top of the stairs. The next words I heard told me pretty much everything I didn’t want to hear. She said, as she began crying, “Oh Mom!”.

My grandparents had been involved in a car accident on their journey home. An impatient driver went in their lane to pass a semi-truck and didn’t see my grandparents van coming at them. My grandmother was in the hospital, a little bruised but otherwise ok (she would later need nose surgery to correct the alignment). My grandparents’ friend who was helping them drive home had so many broken bones, including ribs and shoulder, and would also need counselling for what happened (he was driving at the time – completely not his fault). But my grandfather didn’t make it.The speed they were traveling on the highway, and the impact of a completely head-on hit left the vehicle in shambles and took my grandfather with it.

Immediately, we packed and drove back to the city. I thankfully had a great aunt and uncle who lived just outside the limits and welcomingly invited us in until we could all make arrangements to fly home. My mother was able to fly right away to be with my grandmother, but there were 4 more of us to fly, and we had to wait for a cheaper ticket to afford it.

It was so strange when I got home. Being in my grandparents house seemed so normal. I mean, I was only at my “new home” for less than a week. I had no attachments to it and didn’t even have to act like it was supposed to be my new home. I had come home and it felt like life should be normal again.

I know I cried a few times, but I remember just having the attitude and thoughts of “My grandfather is just at his office, staying the night like he usually does. Sometime he’ll come home.”

I still remember it as clear as yesterday: My mother and I were sitting in the living room, on separate couches, not talking much as we didn’t for a while, and her saying the exact same thing that I felt – that Grampy was just at his office and sometime he would come home. And it hit us right then that we had to realize it was wasn’t true, that Grampy really wasn’t coming back. I broke down (just like I am again now) because he was always there, for everything! How could he not come back this time! How could the one stable thing in my life not come back! It was so hard to accept.

Sitting in his house, seeing all of his old stuff, going to his office, it was all so hard to do when you realize the person who has always been there for you, the person who has loved you your whole life was suddenly gone. My nickname would never be used again, except when telling stories of him. My promise from him of giving me my first car would never come true. My life was drastically left with an empty hole that I’m not sure was ever filled again. Nobody could take his place, and I could never have been prepared for that instant change in time.

Life is not fair, and it never will be. The devil is waiting for any opportunity to attack and make a mess of things. He knows which strings to pull and he knows how to make things hurt you more than anyone else. He knows he can damage us and take away everything that means the world to us, which is why it’s so important to turn to God when you’re hurting, to let Him hold you and tell you that everything is going to be ok, because one day, it will. One day, when Jesus returns and we are taken to Heaven with Him, there will not be anymore pain, there will not be anymore death, there will not be anymore tears. I don’t know what my grandfather’s relationship with Christ was like. I know he sort of had a falling out at one point, but he insisted my mom make sure she took us to church. So I only hope and pray that he had a good relationship with God, because it would be so nice to run into those loving arms I miss so dearly, the loving arms that were missing during both of my graduations and my wedding, the loving arms that were taken away from me way too soon.

I miss this man more than anything, and truly just thinking of how much I miss him brings me to tears almost instantly. Hold your loved ones close and make sure you let them know how important they are to you. You never know which instant will take them away.

Anniversaries-Milestones on a Journey for Two!

So my husband and I have only been married for one year. But I can honestly tell you, that one year has presented some of the hardest and biggest challenges. When friends and family begin telling us things like, “I don’t know how you’re doing it!” and “What is it ever going to end?”, you can begin to see the sincerity of my statement. It has been quite the year.

To start off our married life, we had a gorgeous wedding. My mother put in an amazing amount of work as the wedding was where she lived, and nowhere near me. We basically communicated by Facebook and e-mails so that I could see pictures of what she was getting. But in the end, it was such a pretty place. In fact, we got married in a park. The river, trees, and a light breeze would compose of our background. And our reception? In a basketball court! Now, I played basketball for one season of my entire schooling-career. But did I want my reception to look like we were in a basketball court? Hardly! But what my mother did to that basketball court was amazing. In fact, here’s a picture of it:

Magical. I was so impressed. It was seriously amazing. And not to mention this is after the tent had been put up and then torn down by the wind. So although you can’t see it in the picture, there was a place on the front of the tent, thankfully on the outside, where duct tape was used to fix the “tear” from the wind storm. But all in all, we were blessed with the ceremony coming together on the day of our wedding!

Now I’d like to say that it was at least easy from the ceremony throughout the honeymoon. Don’t get me wrong, we definitely enjoyed our honeymoon, going from place to place as we wanted. But, I got a phone call the very next day from our pastor saying we were missing a very important piece of paper: the one that would be submitted to the government to prove that we were married. Oh boy! You see, by this time, we were away from our wedding people who had to sign it, some of them had already gone back home (way far away), and so begun the e-mailing and faxing of a piece of paper to get all of the signatures required. Submitted.

Along we went with our honeymoon, and yet, another phone call. The government will not accept that piece of paper as they want originals of the signatures. So let me just explain that by then, we were home, which means there were only two people, aside from us, in the province we were in, that had attended the wedding. That meant that if we missed these two people or somehow couldn’t travel to them, we were in serious trouble! Fortunately, God had prepared it so that we were able to get ahold of these two people, and they were able to sign. Finally, we were married “legally”.

Sound like quite the beginning to a marriage? It was. But that was just the beginning. At first, my husband was working 12 hours away from me with no promised schedule of when he’d be allowed to come back home, then he quit his job to be home with me, and had a terrible time because he’s from the states, and I’m from Canada, so he wasn’t allowed to work in Canada. So then came the MOUNTAINS of paperwork. Eventually it was finally finished for Canadian Permanent Residency, and to this day, they will tell me no more than “It’s processing”. So frustrating.

So not only was my husband depressed to not be able to work and provide for his family (me and the dogs and Dolce), we had a car accident (my fault). There went my second brand new car. Fortunately Greg had bought an old car that was AWD (those of you who live in Canadian winters know how important this can be!). We got that ready to go, and yes it worked for awhile, but then it too kept having problem after problem. Don’t get me wrong. At the same time that we’ve sunk endless amounts of money into that car, and it again is not running, God just knows what you’ll need. I made it through the whole winter between bus and that sometimes-working car. When the biggest storms hit (police telling people to stay off the roads, 150+ car pile-ups), that was when the car was running so my husband could come get me from work. I mean, I cannot begin to praise God enough for knowing exactly what we’ll need and when we’ll need it.

I had to rescue my sister once from a situation she had gotten into. And I already hated to drive in this car because it felt so funny to me, so shakey. And we didn’t have the money at the time to get it looked at. But when my sister needed me, I told my husband we had to go. We drove so far in that car and got back home. Eventually my husband did take it in, and the mechanic looked at him in shock. He was able to move the tire a full 3 inches in and out, effortlessly. He said it was incredibly amazing for the amount of driving that we did that the tired did not just fall off on the road somewhere. Seriously, praise God! I don’t know how we survived anything without Him, and it was truly all Him.

So aside from car problems that made travelling slightly difficult throughout the year, I have never become more thankful for bussing systems. Don’t get me wrong, it takes me 3 times as long to get anywhere, and standing at a bus stop in pouring rain or freezing, windy temperatures is no fun either, but where would I be without the bussing system today? Another source of blessing in a very difficult time.

We were not able to travel for Christmas, and although we had the tiniest little Christmas tree, we at least had a tree. And our wonderful family sent us their gifts by mail and by plane through my father. Family support is amazing.

During the year, to top off my husbands depression, he had three surgeries completed. Talk about shock. One thing I’ve come to learn that in the states, surgeries, hospital procedures, and even regular doctor visits cost a pretty penny. So explain to me, how even though none of them were pleasant, but that he had them all happen in the same time that I was able to cover him under my medical coverage through a buy-in program for non-working spouses? I mean, it is incredible! What God sees, let no man question. He saved us probably from going bankrupt so easily. And then my husband needed some serious dental work when one of his teeth lost a filling and broke a piece off. All of that saved so much money because he was with me and my medical coverage covered him. You never know what God has planned, but He has it all in His hands, and that’s the incredible thing!

Essentially, all year I was living from paycheque to paycheque. I live in a big city, so rent is crazy. And of course both of us had to live off my paycheque. There were some months, we had to seriously just stick to those foods that forever linger in your cupboards, like pasta noodles and rice. It was hard and there was never any “extra”. But we did it, we definitely did it. We’re still here, and we’re all fine.

I have so much to thank God for, and the very fact that Greg and I are still here, and still in love, is incredible. It has just been one thing after another, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen in this next year because even now, he still doesn’t have his paperwork and I’m not sure he’ll even be allowed to return with me. So it’s going to be a year of who-knows-what.  But one thing I am certain is that God will provide the same way He has, and it’s up to Greg and I to do what we can as well. We’ve had such a rocky path, and I’m hoping by the end that we’ll just be an unbreakable pair, ready to take whatever the world throws at us, and more in love and stronger than we ever were.

So when we were able to celebrate our first anniversary, we celebrated. We went to Santa Fe, New Mexico, found a deal online for an amazing hotel, and ate at amazing places, including Luminaria where an award-winning chef, Andrea Clover, who also won the latest season to Sugar Dome, worked and provided our incredibly delicious desserts. I am thankful for this one year of craziness, and I am ever so thankful for my husband who has been with me through it all. Incase he ever reads this: I love you!