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!

Judgment: I’m Guilty of It Too

I’m going to make this post a lot shorter than I originally  intended. Mainly because I’m not quite as heated up about it as I was at the time I wanted to write about it.

A student asked me this week if I would rather have 15 hour days or 34 hour days. I have no idea why those two numbers were picked, but I would definitely rather have the 34 hour days because then I would have more time to do things AND more time to sleep. I see it being a double win!

Anyways, I was part of another conversation on Facebook, a couple different ones I guess. And one thing I noticed is that people were very quick to judge who I was, especially if they didn’t agree with my opinion. I got called a hypocritical vegan, racist, a selfish person, etc. And that’s fine if it were true, and maybe somewhere in my actions, I don’t realize I am slightly those ways, but here is what the people didn’t know, and I called them out on this.

They didn’t know that I’m not a hypocritical vegan. I grew up eating meat. I was vegetarian for many, many years and only went back to eating meat because of getting into bodybuilding and fitness. I then became so miserable that I went to what I thought was only natural and the best for you – vegan. Since then, I’ve educated myself and now refuse to buy anything related to animal products. I research everything and to any of my knowledge do not buy animal-based products, even to the extent I refused to buy a new vehicle with leather in it! I only buy vegan make-up products, self-care products, and even now that my blowdryer just died after 11 years, I’m researching vegan blowdryers. Hypocritical? I really don’t think so…

Now racist and selfishness came in the same conversation with the ever trivial topic of the Syrian refugees. My point was to be careful with who we let in. I wasn’t saying to never let any Syrians in, I wasn’t saying to ban all Middle Eastern people, I was simply saying to be careful. It’s no different with any other race in any other country. I mean, there are WHITE people from North America that have joined ISIS. Am I going to say we should let them come back to our country just because they’re white? Absolutely not. My entire point was to be careful, to do the proper screening so that we can assess who really needs help from those that are actually terrorists that are trying to sneak in, because regardless of whether we like it or not, we live in a time where things like fake passports are easily available, some that are not even distinguishable from real ones. But back to what they didn’t know.

They didn’t know that in high school, I willingly gave up Christmas to go to Peru on a mission trip and give my time, my labour, and gifts to other people much more needy than myself. And no, my parents did not pay for that trip. They may have helped some, but most of that was fundraising and my own high school job that helped pay the thousands of dollars to go and give some more. They didn’t know that throughout high school and university, I spent extensive amounts of time gathering things for those less fortunate, and serving the homeless through things like soup kitchens and simply setting up tables in the middle of the homeless areas downtown for them to come get coats and other warm items to wear. What they didn’t know is that when I see people begging outside of grocery stores or gas stations in need of food or gas money or whatever, I stop and ask what it is that they need and pay for things for them. What they didn’t know was that in university, I was on a Choir trip to California, and the group of us (50+) were walking the streets of San Francisco where a homeless man was holding out a hat for money. Some rude boy walked by (not from our choir) and threw the money all over the ground. The homeless man was disabled and was having an extremely difficult time trying to reach the money. So regardless of how many countless people I saw walk by him, I stopped and picked up the money for him to which he was extremely grateful for and ended up handing me a Christian pamphlet. I will never forget that. What they don’t know is that even though I’ve become much too busy in my life to do as much as I want to help others, my heart aches when I see the disasters and injustices going on in this world. I cry about it. I pray about it. I cannot wait for God to return and wipe out all of the evil there is. Yes, things are not fair and I hate that it has to be that way.

But these are all the things these judgmental people didn’t know about me because they didn’t take a chance to know where I come from. Am I guilty of this sometimes? Absolutely. I will never profess to be perfect because sometimes you make judgement calls in the heat of the moment. But more and more I am consciously trying to take a step back, learn abut the person or situation, and then take a stand. Too often we are too quick to jump on something that we think is right without knowing the whole truth at all.

Take the time to be educated before jumping to conclusions.

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.

The Penalty of Standing Out

I hate the way the world works sometimes. I hate seeing people in pain. I hate watching people getting picked on or bullied. I hate sin and wrong-doings in this world.

When I was going through my university years, completing my education degree, I had a desire to work with special needs children. It wasn’t because I looked forward to the extra work that often comes with special needs children, but because I wanted to make a difference. I knew special needs children were often put down and sometimes stared at as if the were a circus sideshow. I knew I could step up and be the voice of those children, and I knew that I could help those children feel as important as they are. But that’s not what happened.

At first I ended up teaching at a Native School. It took me awhile to learn the different dynamics needed to teach students who come from a history of anger. It was a definite learning curve in understanding the culture, the behaviours, and the thoughts about different things. But one of the things I found is that my classroom was often their safe place. My classroom was the one place they could count on someone being there to love them. I was a safe place for these kids.

Now as much as I loved being in that position, time would have me change again. This time, to a place where I wasn’t such a safe place. These kids did not need me (or at least felt like they didn’t). The attitudes were indifferent, the gratitude was gone. I really struggled at first to see how in the world I could make a difference when my students were convinced they had everything the needed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t my first year that I figured it out. It was my second and my third that really opened my heart. I realized that maybe I wouldn’t be able to reach all students, even though I try. But there is at least one in each class who needs someone they can trust; someone they can break down their barriers and let them truly see the inside that they keep.

It broke my heart when the first student really let me in their life. The amount of background some of these kids hide is disheartening. It sometimes makes you wonder how they even function. It’s no wonder some of them put up a tough-front at school. Some of them are simply caught in that worldly struggle: the one where they are fighting between being good and doing what they know is right, and doing what the world expects and wants them to do. Absolutely the struggle gets worse as the generations get older. It’s sad in the very least, but it does, unfortunately, exist.

I witnessed something that brought this whole thing up in my mind. A situation that brought up a whole slew of memories.

One of my students is running for class rep in the upcoming school year. She’s an awesome student, wonderful in both academics and her Christianity. Unfortunately, she is one in very few that does not struggle with desires to be popular. She will not swear because others are doing it. She does not talk about inappropriate things because she has no interest. She knows what she believes and she sticks to it. She knows what is right, and that is what she does. And it has made her unpopular in her class.

Today, the vote was completed. And though she almost perfectly fits the description of the position she is running for, more votes were left blank than were voted in favour. My heart sank and my blood boiled a little. If there were legitimately good reasons for not letting her have the position, then I would accept that. But I know it’s because they are upset the one person they wanted to run wasn’t able due to his grades. Whether it’s an expression of bitterness or anger, is it right to decline someone that not only wants the position, but is ready, willing and capable of doing it well?

I don’t know what the right solution is. After all, voting is an expression of your opinion. But my heart aches in knowing that the reasons behind the reactions are wrong. And that bothers me. Someone who perfectly is capable of doing something so well, being held back by unpopularity, is wrong. It takes me right back to my whole philosophy of teaching, and that is that students are capable of more than they are doing, and standing up for those who don’t have as much of a voice.

I grew up in public schools where situations are much worse than I have ever experienced in my years of private school. I have seen “losers” beat up for simply not being good enough for others. I have seen the separation and isolation of those who needed the extra pull-out help and did not think like the others. I have seen students dragged from classrooms because they were acting out in anger about their situations. It’s not pretty.

One year, we did a fundraiser where the boys provided a lunch, and we bid on these “anonymous lunches”. When the bidding was done and every girl had her lunch, then the boys would reveal themselves and we would share lunch with them. I just happened to get one of those classmates that was always taken out for extra help, and who had problems with his anger, reacting from the situations he was in and the way he was treated.

I will forever regret the way I treated him.

I didn’t say anything mean, but that’s simply because I didn’t say anything at all. I was silent the whole time. And now I cannot even go back and apologize for being “snobby” because he was killed in a car accident several years ago (I think I was still in high school). That’s guilt that I have to live with, and guilt that started to change the way I reacted to people.

The one girl that was dragged from our classroom was probably the lowest person in our class. She didn’t always take showers, and she didn’t come from the most well-off family. In fact, I actually don’t know how she was treated at home. But what I do know is that people didn’t like her and daily made fun of her. I will never forget the one day she came up to me and told me that I was her role-model. I didn’t try to be anyone’s role-model, I just tried to talk to her and be nice when others wouldn’t. And look at the difference that made on her life. The simplest of acts I could have done, and it literally changed her world.

Now I’d like to say others followed, but they didn’t. I’d like to say her life changed for the best, but it didn’t. I did manage to get in contact with her again during university, sadly to find out she was pregnant and the baby’s father wanted nothing to do with her as soon as she became pregnant. As a matter of fact, he ran out with another girl and married her very shortly afterwards. And to make matters worse, he called social services claiming she was an unfit mother and had her baby taken away. In no way did her life get better.

I’m sad to say I’ve lost contact with her. My only method of contact no longer seems to work. I do pray for her, that things work out and she’s able to have her baby back in her life. I know she was fighting hard for him. But I pray God’s love surrounds her and God-willing, I will be able to connect with her again.

I truly, truly do hate the world treats people that are different – people that stand out from everybody else. I had the position of popularity and I misused it once. But I promise to do my best to never misuse it again. When a situation arises where someone needs a voice, I wish to be that voice for them, to stand up on their behalf. Just because you don’t think the same as everyone else or do the same things everyone else does is not a reason to be treated so badly. Stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Make a difference in someone’s life. Even if it’s just one person you’ve helped, you’ve literally just changed a person’s entire world. Do what you can and don’t delay. You never know the good you can leave behind.

Why Go Vegan?

Hello everyone!

This is a huge decision, as you can imagine. I want to explain myself as to why I’m choosing this venue. Let me explain my history.

My father was very young when his family went from Quebec to New Brunswick. Speaking little to no English, they struggled for awhile to because accustom to the new province. My grandfather was a woodsmen complete with a team of horses and later big machinery. My father quit school after grade 9 to work with my grandfather. And so the lifestyle of “meat and potatoes” began. Whatever they shot was their meat, and whatever my grandmother grew in the garden was their produce. A very simple, carnivorous life.

Naturally, I grew up eating A LOT of meat. Not because we didn’t go shopping, but I was still a hunter’s daughter, and meat was a regular, every-meal thing. When I was young, it would be no big deal for me to sit down to a pound of bacon myself. It’s a miracle I wasn’t obese!

When I met my first vegetarians in grade 8, I was amazed. This concept that I believed to only belong to celebrities belonged to real life people! I was the only vegetarian in my area, and the lack of knowledge was evident in a quick trip to a hospital with extensive stomach pains. The doctor then informed me of some vital nutrition I was missing, and instead of telling me to eat meat again, told me some vital vegetables I needed to be sure I ate daily.

I was vegetarian for around 10 years. I quit meat cold turkey. My grandfather of course was convinced I was going to die, and was continuously trying to feed me meat. My only family was shocked, but my grandmother on my mother’s side, who has always had an interest in health, was happy. She basically went vegetarian with me! (She never was much of a meat eater).

When I met my husband, he was vegetarian and had been his whole life. My university graduation had led my brother to convince my future husband to try the “real stuff”. From then on, he was hooked.

Eventually, it was the smell of beef jerky that won me back. That smell in my very house all over again won me in. In fact, it opened up the whole new realm of macro counting with my interest in fitness peaking too. With the high levels of protein “needed”, it seemed as if I couldn’t survive without meat. And so I ate meat again for roughly 4 years.

Now, I’ve done so much research. And to keep it short, there is so much evidence that a plant-based diet is the way to go. I would like to think of myself as “getting back to the basics”, naturally. The world of fitness and diet will continuously battle itself. All information can be conflicting. But nothing can deny the way you feel both mentally, physically, and spiritually. Mentally, I’m not hating my food, I’m not worried about going over my “macros”, and I’m not worried about having to stop myself from eating while still feeling like I’m starving. Physically, I feel better. I don’t have to worry about eliminating things to figure out what’s wrong with my body, I get to look forward to younger, more flawless skin. And spiritually, I can feel good about being accountable for selecting the best foods that I can. I can also feel good about my choice not to inflict pain on animals that I myself could not kill. If I couldn’t do it, why do I take part in the process at all?

Some things I’m going to be doing are:
-Trying to buy as much organic as I can
-Continuing my workouts
-Drinking 3L of water a day
-Learning more about, and sticking to food combining rules
-Cutting processed sugar 95%
-Eating mostly fruit until supper
-Eating raw 90% of the time
-Eating until I’m full!

I will keep you posted on my journey! I’m excited for this new phase 🙂

My New Experiment: Fruit

I think it’s time for a little background:

I grew up a hunter’s daughter. My father grew up a lumberjack’s son. He learned quickly in life that there was not a ton of money, and so my grandmother grew a vegetable garden, and whatever my grandfather was able to hunt was the meat they served (rabbits, deer, moose, partridge, etc…).

Thus, I grew up a heavy meat eater. In fact, stews or beans with biscuits, and the typical “meat and potatoes” were quite frequently a supper meal. Of course with the younger generations and slightly more money, pizzas and junk foods made their way in the diet as well. But it would not be uncommon for me as a child to sit down and eat a pound of bacon myself. That’s just the way it was.

I remember when I met my first vegetarians. They were like celebrities to me because the only people I ever knew of that would even think of not eating meat were celebrities. Nobody in the “real world” would ever think to live without eating meat. It must surely be a way to die!

However, seeing these people live, and healthily, gave me a spark that continued to grow. One morning, in my teenage years, I simply woke up, and told my mother never to make meat for me again.

Did I exactly know what I was getting into? Absolutely not. In fact, eating some vegetarian junk food without learning the proper way to eat healthily vegetarian landed me with intensive stomach pains and a visit to the hospital where the doctor informed me of some key staples I should be eating to be healthy. Oops. Learned that lesson the hard way.

And so it began. A somewhat healthier 10-11 years of being a vegetarian. Cold turkey. No going back.

It wasn’t until I met my husband, and found out he had grown up vegetarian that I went back to eating meat. Sounds weird, I know. But he met my family at my university graduation weekend, and my stepfather is notoriously known for his bbqing skills. My brother convinced him to try a “real” burger, and he was hooked. Of course, eventually it got to me, and I began eating meat again.

Of course, since I had been studying the Bible more and learning about healthier ways of eating, I still did not eat pork or animals considered “unclean”. I stuck with the basics of chicken, turkey, beef, and some fish. I am an Atlantic girl, and fish (specifically Atlantic Salmon) has always been a favourite.

Now recently, I’ve been reading and studying more into health. I’ve been looking at vegan diets, raw vegan diets, the details of what is going on with the meat that is served to us these days, the packaging, the handling, the processing, all of these things that are completely vital for us to know truly what we are putting in our bodies. And I’ve come to a conclusion: I need to get rid of the meat and animal products.

I could go on forever and ever about the toxins, poisons, and everything that is being put into animal products. I could tell you all about the fact that the majority of the meat we buy in stores has already gone bad and we don’t even know it. I could go on and on about how safety inspections are unrealistic, and how really, at the end of it all, we can only do the best we can with what we’re given. A hot topic, especially for someone who works out is of course how you get in enough protein.

But I’ve decided, the only true way to convince people is not a lecture, but to simply be a living example. And that is what I’m going to do.

Now, my husband is not quite on board with me on this, and I have promised to never ask him to change. If my life leads a perfect example, I figure that should be proof in and of itself. But little by little, he seems to be a little more supportive, though maintaining zero interest in it for himself, which is totally fine.

My plan is to still workout, to still continue researching how to eat properly, and to still continue on with everything else the same, except for how I eat. One difference. I’m getting the junk out of my system!

If you’re interested in this topic and wanting to know more yourself, the following are some of the links that I refer to frequently:

1. http://thebananagirl.com (she has other links from this site as well)

2. http://veganbodybuilding.com (some athletes even provide examples of their daily meals in their profiles)

3. http://www.thefrankmedrano.com (a man who chose to become vegan)

There are many more, but those are just a few to get started. I will keep you posted on how this goes!

#onajourneybacktoEden

Week 12 Day 3

I drove myself to work today. What a good feeling! I still got up at the regular time, but had so much more time to get things done and still get to work on time. I actually enjoy not feeling rushed in the morning!

The school day went well. I kept in all of my students during morning recess to write lines about how important it is to be quiet in class. I also had some boys scrub a few cupboard doors with toothbrushes (I have a cleaning stash under my sink) from throwing snow outside (an absolute no-no).

Now, the crazy part about this, is I was filling out a graduate survey for my university, and one of the questions it asked was: How would your students describe you? I’m the type of teacher that talks straight to my students. We work together and we figure things out together. Then, if necessary, I will step in to solve problems that they are not solving on their own. And because I’m very straight-up with them, I told them what I was doing and asked them to be completely honest about their answers. Keep in mind the trouble they were just in. They completely poured out these amazing descriptions, one being, “a good disciplinarian”. I wasn’t sure how to take that at first until they told me that my punishments were good and fair. Wow. I love my class!

After school, I had to leave right away because I was getting my next size of trays for Invisalign at the dentist. The roads were terribly icy, but I managed to make it there safely. I then proceeded to sit for an hour because of how behind they were. However, I couldn’t leave and come back the next day because my dentist only works on Tuesdays. So I waited, and then got my new bottom plate, as well as a maintenance top plate. It hasn’t started hurting yet, but I fear it’s coming.

I went home, got ready, and my husband and I went to the gym. I had a very good back and biceps workout. I was stronger, felt solid, and took a little more of a leisurely approach by slightly longer breaks since my workout was a little shorter today (7 exercises). I even was able to complete 25 minutes of steady state cardio on the stationary bike! It was just a good time at the gym.

I noticed something at the gym tonight though. Standing in front of the mirrors, I realized that my back shape is nice (from a side view). But it’s almost like my stomach is somehow getting flatter and yet sticking out more. I guess I can best describe it like a thick, smooth curve. I haven’t quite settled on how I feel about this. But I chose to leave it as a realization that I am stronger, I feel better, and regardless of the fat percentage, my muscles are showing more than they ever have before, and that’s a feat in itself. So I’m going to keep waiting and see how my body continues to take shape.

Week 9 Day 7

Man, today I feel good! I woke up feeling amazing. In fact, I jumped right out of bed, walked the dogs, did some laundry, picked up some things around the house, was even going to dishes after I ate a hearty breakfast, but my husband woke up and so we got ready to go to church first.

At church, we had such an amazing sermon about true villains and heros, comparing the story of Ahab, Jezebel, Naboth and Elijah. It was about how we so easily pick out every else’s problems, yet we have enough of our own to fix. He mentioned how if you look throughout history, God did not keep people from making their own choices, but He did warn them about choices they made; that they would have to face the consequences of their choice. And yet, how truly in the end, we are the villains, the ones who do not deserve to live, the ones who are almost drawn to the bad things of this world, and how Jesus is the only true hero. It was so well presented. This pastor is still in training, not quite done his university career and yet he is so talented, so gifted. I’m so glad we went!

After church, we came home and took a nap. Yes, I know. My body felt so good, but I know I did damage this week, so if it wanted sleep, it got it!

Following our nap, we got up and went to the gym. I did not have near enough time to do the workout I was behind on, plus the workout I didn’t finish the day before, and so for this week, I’m a workout and two cardio sessions behind. It’s ok, it just means that this week, I’ll have 6 training sessions and 6 cardio sessions to do. Basically, I’ll be at the gym everyday. But hey, I love the gym, so that’s ok with me!

After we worked out, we came home, changed our clothing, and went out for a nice supper. Supper was absolutely delicious, but our night was semi-ruined when we came out to find someone had smashed the driver side mirror out of my husband’s truck, only to find it laying on the ground. We parked in a large parking space, beside a tiny car. It was obviously done by human contact. And the glass does not have any cracks in it, so it’s almost like someone pried it out. I don’t get it. I really don’t understand why people have to do these things. So now we need to see how much it will cost to replace and how much of the whole mirror area that we need to replace. My dreams of flying home for Christmas are going further and further away.

Following this, as you can assume, we went straight home and didn’t do much of anything for the rest of the night. We just took it easy, calmed down and tried to find something positive to think/talk about.

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.

Sleep Walking: What’s Your Story?

I am NOT a habitual sleep walker, at least I don’t think so. But I do have some instances where it has happened.

Reminds me of Robert Munsch’s 40 Below where the dad went sleepwalking outside in 40 below.

When I was little, and I mean really little, like 4, I can remember living at my grandparents house with my mom and sister (1 at the time). My parents were just going through a separation leading to divorce and so mom had moved “home”. I remember my grandfather informing me of a little event that happened the night before, something I had no recollection of at all. This is what he told me happened:

My grandfather was in the kitchen making a late night snack. Our kitchen was designed as a square with an open rectangle on the edge of it, a mini entrance hallway that opened into the kitchen. So if you were at the sink/stove/cupboards, you could not see the front door. You would have to walk around the wall to look at the door. However, the table was on the opposite wall of the stove so you could easily see both sides at the same time.

Anyways, my grandfather was facing the cupboards, using the counter to make his snack. All of a sudden, he heard the door open, so naturally ran towards the door to see what was going on. Nobody was breaking into the house, his little granddaughter was leaving the house, in the middle of the night! He called my name and asked me where I was going, and I apparently told him I was going to walk the dog. I don’t even think we had a dog at the time. My grandfather told me it was the middle of the night and I needed to go back to bed. I easily complied and walked myself back up to bed, asleep the whole time.

Now, something important to note here is that it was not an easy walk from my bedroom to the kitchen and back. I would have had to go to the stairs, go down the first set of stairs, turn on the landing, go down the long set of stairs, turn, walk down the hallway, turn again, walk through a zigzag hallway, through the doorway into the kitchen, walk around the table but not too close into the cupboards so my grandfather didn’t notice me, around the wall, down the hallway, and open the door! And of course, do all that in reverse on my way back up. Can you imagine this?

After that, I don’t have many stories of sleepwalking until I hit university where my sleep-functioning was due to such extreme lack of sleep. From conversations where people couldn’t even tell I was sleeping, to looking at people in my sleep (they said later the only thing they noticed was that my eyes were red, but honestly had no idea I was asleep), to grabbing the control for the fire place and trying to turn down the tv, to who knows what. That was a time my night-functioning was at an all-time extreme.

Sleepwalking almost always comes with an interesting story. I’m curious to hear yours! Leave your story in a comment below!