:: a photo every so often keeps the doctor away #004::


i have no clue who this kid is. he was at my church on Saturday night, and since i'm new, well... i have no clue who anyone is, really. But he was just SO cute, i snapped up multiple pictures of him. I'm really enjoying shooting kids lately. There's just something so innocent and joyful about the way they interact with the camera.

letters to five or six people in no particular order.

05. i don't really know you, but tonight my heart is breaking for you. i wish you knew that his heart is breaking for you too.

04. i wish i could get past this.

03. i miss you, but i feel like it's too far gone for restoration.

02. i love the two of you. i love that despite my far away-ness, we are still friends.

01. come home soon.

::a photo a day keeps the doctor away #003--hear no evil, speak no evil::




I feel like in posting a picture a day, the pressure causes the quality of my work to decline. I'm not sure if i'll keep on doing this.

::a photo a day keeps the doctor away #002::


well, it's late...but better late than never. i'm so tired though, i can't do edits tonight... so... enjoy what there is. There's a good deal of camera shake, but it'll have to do. have a good night and sweet dreams, if you're not already there.

jehovah's witnesses.

i don't know if it's just me...or are they swarming about montreal in packs?? In the past month i've met more jehovah's witnesses than i've met in...all my time in Toronto (there seemed to be more mormons there).

they came to my door today. my linoleum is cold downstairs by the door and i was barefoot. so when she proceeded to keep talking to me, i was kinda grumpy, seeing as my feet were cold. Even after telling her I was a Christian missionary, she asked me multiple times if I knew what Jesus dying on the cross meant for my salvation.

i told her i did. i wish i had told her she probably did not. but i applaud her boldness and her perseverance. it's cold outside. and it's not easy to convince someone of something especially when you have a creepy smile on your face.

mental note: when you go out sharing, Lydia, make sure you do not have a creepy smile on your face.

now my feet are cold.

to prove the shutter is still opening and closing.


My dad says he hasn't seen my pictures in awhile. "Are you still using your camera?", he asks.

Yes, yes I am. I go through phases of creative inspiration and phases of drivel-driven nonsense. I have some friends (see JAlm) who seem to just CHURN out the quality...but I can't seem to be consistent like this. Maybe it's because I don't force myself. I'm not sure. But, with a new lens in hand, I have resolved to try taking a picture a day, because, well, as the last page of the four laws explains, we shouldn't rely on our feelings. Way to take a spiritual analogy and turn it into another form of drivel, Lydia.

Meh. Same idea applies. Let's be honest though. Resolutions rarely last more than 26 days, and thus, no promises will be made as to when my photos will materialize on the web. But, there's a photo for today at least. And...as usual, if you desire to see more, there's always shutter release... a collection of old and new shots.




::a photo a day keeps the doctor away #001::

Colds.

Today, I am sick with my 3rd cold of 2008. If you include the flu, I've been sick 4 times since January 1st. Oh, and don't forget the ridiculous cold that lasted all of December.

This is getting ridiculous. IMMUNE SYSTEM.... COME ON!

Long week.

It's been awhile since I've posted something open and honest here.

but tonight will be no different. It's only Tuesday and I feel like this week is long and has been dragging on.

so, to bed I go. perhaps tomorrow will be a new day.

but here's a question:

why not me?

because i don't look back.


i'm not looking back.

beloved Queen Street.

Because we don't have cable, and because i've been to lazy (cheap?) to buy an antennae, I'm often behind on national news. But today, I heard about the fire on Queen Street West, and it breaks my heart. This was an area that I frequented often, and one of my favourite perusing shops, Preloved, has been destroyed. Hopefully something good will come out of this tragedy.

bizarre afternoon.

Today, I had a bizarre walk home from campus. I just felt this sudden swarm of compassion for the broken and hurting. I cried for a coworker out east whose baby has a chromosome defect (a deletion of chromosome 7Q). I cried for a guy I have never met, but whose blog I read on a constant basis. I cried for all the suffering that is so prevalent in our world and all the trials that people go through.

It was a weird moment. I'm not sure what brought it on. I just felt this sudden surge of compassion and urgency to pray.

And I thought to myself, "Wow, when His kingdom comes, what a sweet day it will be."

on crafts and valentine's day.

Well, happy valentine's day, all ye faithful blogstalkers/blogroll buddies! Hope it was a good one! Mine turned out to be quite the packed day.... but with nothing remotely romantic....and not even ro_ _ _tic (romantic without the man)!!

A couple of highlights.
1. i saw a guy come to Christ today!
2. i got a five and a half journal in the mail today!!
3. i made gocco valentines day cards.

Expound:

1. i hopped over to McGill today and took a girl who had only been sharing once before out on the campus. We talked to a guy, who had grown up "Christian" but didn't really GET it. When we went through the four laws, he kept nodding. Initially, he didn't think someone could get to know God personally. But at the end, he said he had never prayed the "sinners prayer" before....and that it reflected the desire of his heart! Cool beans.

2. Every month, I treat myself to something nice. I really like supporting independent artists/crafters/businesses. Last month, I saw the five and a half journals and i just FELL in LOVE with them! So this month, I put in an order for one. It came within two weeks! And the wonderful owner, and journal maker, Judy, even put in an extra postcard AND handwrote me a little note!! if you're ever looking for a blank journal guys, seriously, order from her! This little journal feels FANTASTIC in my hands.

3. Instead of going out tonight, like I had originally planned, I stayed home, reveled in sweet aloneness and made Valentine's Day cards. Yes, late, I know. But everyone loves a random card, even if it is months late. I figure, i still owe some people Christmas presents. DISGUSTING. I know. I love my gocco!!! I hope my bulb and filter order comes soon! I'm completely out of materials. (If you're wondering what the picture is.... It's a girl standing with a smiling heart (a human heart, not the shape of a heart) in the palm of her hand. It says happy heart day. Which is....quite punny. Props to my friend Shelly, who thought it up.

j-mies.

this post is dedicated to my friend (and little brother) j-mies (pronounced m-eyes) who reads this blog but does not comment. like ever.

blogging community: this is called stalking.

yes, j-mies, you are a stalker.

hmmm...

i needed a picture for my monthly (or not-so-monthly-of-late) newsletter. I wanted to use this one.


sadly, i needed a portrait (vertical) picture, not landscape...and this one did not fit. Additionally, there was a lot of dead space in the centre of the picture, subtracting its effectiveness.

So.... I loaded the picture in photoshop...and.....cropped Imanzi out..and pasted him in the centre, and then cropped the picture:my roommate thinks this is a bit of a lie..... so the question is...

creepy? non-creepy?
legit? non-legit?

am i a liar for using this "created" picture in my newsletter?

happy chinese new year!!

***
On Saturday a really cute girl from the church i've been going to, here in montreal, came up to me, hugged me and exclaimed, "I LOVE YOU, LYDIA!"

Since this was maybe the 4th time i'd met her, i was caught off guard. So... i said...

"Thank you."

actually, i said...

"Aww, you're nice. Thank you."

Somehow, i don't think you're supposed to reply with a thank-you in this scenario.

some days are just bad, confusing days.




and though i drew this off the top of my head, it looks very familiar. i'm pretty sure i've ripped off someone's stick drawing style... so if you know who, let me know. it's vaguely salad fingers, but not quite.

home.

i'm pretty sure i had a small panic attack walking home today. i couldn't breathe and had to take in large gulps of air, i felt nauseous and wanted to vomit, i was sweating even though i was outside and i felt like the world was closing in on me.

i hate my house.

sometimes, after a staff meeting, i'll sit and dawdle around at my director's house, because i don't want to go home. i hate the darkness and the red walls. i hate red walls. they remind me of blood. i really like baths, but i hate taking baths in this house; the water stays yellow, no matter how long i run the tap for, and it reminds me of urine. the carpet in my room grosses me out. i don't even know what makes brown stains like the ones on the dirty grey carpet. The toilet never flushes properly and there isn't enough water pressure to run more than one tap at a time.

i hate how the house is dirty, and i never feel like cleaning or improving the house, because let's be honest, why clean when the place is already disgusting?

i hate knowing that in the 3 months i've lived here, there has been a break in, and a man who has seen me fully naked. i hate having to look up into my skylight to make sure no one is there before i use the toilet. i hate turning onto my street, and having to hold keys between my fingers, wondering if i'll make it to my house without getting mugged.

buying a place probably won't happen. with my current salary, i don't qualify for much of a mortgage, and the only way i can qualify for an increased mortgage is if i got my roommate to sign a lease agreement with me. she doesn't want to move. i also don't want to take handouts from my parents.

i could move out into a different place, but i'd have to live alone and i kinda like my roommate.

i feel trapped whenever i sit in this house. It's like the walls close in on me.

shortest blog ever.

i think i am slowly making friends. trying to engage.

the end.

crafts.

So..i tried out the gocco today. It arrived in the mail on Monday. I made a little drawing to test it out.

Hmm...initial thoughts.

It's WAY easier to use than screenprinting! The cleanup is next to nothing and it's FAST. It's kinda pricey though. The starter kit comes with four bulbs and two screens, and it requires two bulbs (one-time use only) and one screen to make the screenprint. This means that you can only make two designs before having to order more materials from Japan. Thus, to make a t-shirt, it costs around 39 dollars ($20 for the shirt, $14 for the bulb+screen, $5 for the amount of ink). Despite these drawbacks, it's a REALLY great system!

I did some test runs and they went smoothly! Then, i progressed to a little coin purse/wallet thingy I had made this summer. I had botched the lining inside the wallet thing, so I wasn't afraid to use it as a trial for my print. It turned out relatively well. So, i decided to try it on an american apparel t-shirt I had gotten, specifically for this inaugural event.

TRAGEDY!!!!! i fully botched the t-shirt. it's quite DEVASTATING!!! This is my sad face:


I have an idea though, to redeem the t-shirt. I'll try it out tomorrow once I assemble my materials.

In the meantime, here are some pictures of the little wallet I made. Not bad for a first run, i suppose. (p.s. if you don't recognize it, the skyline is the Montreal skyline.)



*edit: okay so I tried out the t-shirt today. I'm realizing that the right fabric choice is important in the process...but i think i'd still wear this t-shirt out of the house. maybe.

on cereal and other things.

you know you should eat healthy. based on this knowledge, you will choose one breakfast food--let's say, cereal-- over a myriad of other potentially good choices, say, maple smoked bacon and eggs. within your choice of cereal you can choose something like count chocula, which, realistically means that you could have eaten maple smoked bacon and eggs, because let's be honest, the calorie content is probably quite equal. or, you could choose wheaties, because they're marginally tasty and good for you. the calorie content is probably vastly low in comparison to either of the former choices, and hey, flush out those bowels while you're at it.

so you wake up in the morning, shower, brush your teeth, make your clothing choice, eat your wheaties and so forth. the novelty of wheaties is sure to wear off after the first day. after all, they are wheaties. so the next day, you wake up in the morning, shower, brush your teeth, make your clothing choice, eat your wheaties and run out the door. you have good bowel movements.
but the novel has long since become the mundane, and it needs to become a conscious choice to keep on eating those wheaties. you may choose to do this for a variety of reasons. richard simmons has perhaps been emailing you since the 80s beseeching you to eat your wheaties. obedience. or maybe they've what you've been eating since the 80s. tradition and habit. or you know it's good for you and you know that it is the best possible thing for you to eat and will yield the best results. conviction stemming from choice. with this latter choice, you can rejoice because you know that the mundane will not come back with nothing. you can fix your eyes by faith knowing that though you cannot see immediate wheatie-eating results, the certainty of the hope set before you is reason enough to keep on eating wheaties rather than fruit loops.

someone recently told me that i'm really hard to get to know, and that i'm a really closed person. at first, i was inclined to disbelief, because i used to be a pretty open person. i used to share life readily and easily. i used to cry without excuse.

upon reflection, i realized that that person was right.
i talked to another person today and realized that i'm not fully engaged with anyone anymore. i'm not fully engaged with Jesus and i'm not fully engaged with others. i'm finding myself in a time of restlessness. i eat my wheaties because i know they are good things, but i'm unwilling to take things a step further, to savouring the wheaties and enjoying their effects, because i'm constantly dreaming of a better cereal to eat.

i do a lot of things out of tradition and out of obedience. but i'm slowly realizing that this isn't enough to sustain life. the pharisees did a lot of things out of tradition and obedience. i'm sure they probably ate some derivation of wheaties for breakfast. but they lacked faith to make the leap from obedience to an engaging attitude with God.

my life is marked by a lack of understanding about grace and faith. i live it in the mundane, obeying, because i know i should. because i don't want to let people down. because i don't want to let God down. because i'm fearful that if i don't, i'll fall away instantly. but doing things just because i should and living life in the mundane isn't cutting it anymore.

i don't just need to eat the wheaties out of obedience. i need to eat them by faith.

chow mein and green tea.

I remember. It was a silver thermos--the kind you heat up, then put food in, then seal to keep the food warm. Inside: the previous night's chow mein (fried noodles). They were a golden yellow, and green leaves of bok choy and slivers of char siu (or was it chicken?) peeked out from underneath them. Dessert was in a little tupperware container. Peeled lychees floating in their juice. I always liked my lunches. I secretly thought they were better than the soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my friends would pull out from their lunch boxes.

It was grade four. A voice amongst the throng of students yelled out, "EEEW, Lydia eats worms and eyeballs for lunch."

That was the day I started hating my culture. I asked my Mom to pack me a sandwich for lunch the next morning.

Somewhere along the way, ever since then, I've held a bizarre resentment for Chinese people. Maybe it's because I never felt Chinese enough to integrate with the culture, but my skin dictates that I am too asian to fit in with "white" culture. Maybe it's because I never had the brand names to wear like my Cantonese friends did. Maybe it's because I hated the "tsk-ing" and looks of disapproval when I'd go over to their houses and their parents learned that I didn't speak Cantonese.

In the past while, I've come to love my culture. Partly. There are so many good things, that I really enjoy. I enjoy feeling at home in a chinese supermarket, or sitting and stretching noodles out to prepare them to boil. I enjoy sitting with a bowl of noodles and slurping them up, with my chopsticks guiding them into my mouth. I enjoy the slurping sound. I enjoy (though I make fun of it a lot) the culture of honour and yet, I hate it at the same time. I love sitting with a bowl of red bean ice cream and thinking about how great it is that even in Montreal, my people are here and have the opportunity to freely hear the gospel. (hmm, a lot of this revolves around food.) I love the close-knitted idea of family and community.

As an only child and a chinese child, I know that the responsibility for caring for my parents will fall on my shoulders someday. I once talked with a caucasian friend of mine, and he said he wouldn't even think of caring for his parents when they're old. He sees nothing wrong with a nursing home, and doesn't think that much about supporting them financially. While I know that not all of my Caucasian friends think this way, a vast majority of them do. I can't imagine thinking like that. It's not as though one way is better than the other. At least, that's what I ought to say. So maybe it's the confucianism talking, but I really can't imagine ever sending my parents to a nursing home, unless that home could provide better medical care than I could.

I think about these things a lot. I think about what will happen when my parents are old. What will happen when they can no longer feed themselves. What will happen when they die. I think I will be very lonely. I worry more than I think I do, and I rarely let it show.

My dad has accepted a job in Calgary. I'm apprehensive about this. I don't think it's a good move and I worry a lot. Mostly about my mum. I feel as though she will be feeling very lonely and very alone for the next while, and I wish I could be there to be with her. I know my dad can take care of himself, and that this is probably a good move for him. I don't want his life to be stagnant.

And it's times like this when I wonder how I can rectify how I was raised and the principles of taking care of my family, with my present reality of being almost 4000 kilometers away. It is one thing to embrace my culture, and make a decision to go to a Chinese grocery store so that I can make chow mein and eat green tea ice cream. It is another thing to think about how I can honour my parents and ensure that they are okay when I live so very far away. I wonder how the teaching of letting the dead bury their own dead applies to my life, and the teaching to honour my parents concurrently puzzles me.

I think I am more Chinese in thinking than I realize.

Today, I came home from church. I stretched some noodles and fried them till they were a golden brown. Green bok choy leaves and slivers of meat peeked out from underneath. As I ate, I remembered.

i should know that....

whenever i experience writer's block...it can't possibly last for long, because the phone will inevitably ring and wake me up--i guess i shouldn't be sleeping at 9:30pm anyways-- and some sort of life-changing news will be told and i'll have to think about it and process.

so much for sleeping early.

writer's block.

have i run out of things to say?

i can't even begin to describe....

how great i think this is. (wynja.... haha there's even a section denouncing comic sans!!)


+ 5 good things that made for a good day.

1. i went to wal-mart today, and found out that they sell pocky, vitasoy, vita lemon tea drink and vita mango juice. ASIAN CENTRAL!

2. i just finished a long, overdue christmas present for a friend.

3. having an adventure with my friends Sha and G Michael.

4. splitting a Toscane and Perogy epicee pizza at Boston Pizza with my roommate.

5. now being equipped with Adobe CS3 Design bundle.

6. white people chocolate soy milk. SOO rich!

drool.

yeah, i'm not gonna lie. i'm fully drooling over this journal.



(click image to be redirected to shop)

fonts.

I'm kinda irritated. Just semi. Not full out. Not angry. Just a little bit irritated. I REALLY like fonts. I REALLY believe that just changing a font can turn a full out crap newsletter/magazine article/website/poster/cereal box/ (insert any print media here) into crap or even semi-decency. If I spend an hour of my own time choosing fonts for work that I do, it's because I know it means the difference between a good piece of work and a great piece of work. People didn't invent fonts other than Times New Roman because they thought print was fine with JUST one font. Graphic Designers with a specialty in typography don't just sit and invent fonts because there's nothing else to do. There's a reason why companies choose different fonts for their logos and even go as far as hiring a graphic designer to design them an original font JUST for their letterheads.

Now of course, there's more to design than just fonts. But often time, the reason why posters that untrained individuals put out are crap is because of poor choices. Poor colour choices. Poor font choices. Poor alignment choices. At a certain point, it becomes a difference in stylistic opinion. Yet, there are STILL some rules that, for the most part, should be followed. I strive to not make poor choices. I'd rather spend the extra hour knowing I've made good choices.

So it
a) irritates me when people make fun of me for spending that time choosing fonts or colours.
b) irritates me when people who don't give two hoots about design ask for advice, then make FUN of me for deliberating over things and then don't take my advice.
c) irritates me that in the Christian community, so often, crappy work goes out because of "pleasantries" and "niceties". Because we want to value the person's work, we rarely do proper critique like in the secular world.
d) irritates me when others will not critique my work because they're afraid of offending me. How can one improve without criticism?

Anyways, this is my rant for today.

Addendum: CLIP ART and WORD ART are from the 90s. There is RARELY, if at all, an excuse to USE CLIP ART AND WORD ART.

no skylight.


the roofers started yesterday.
i just went into the bathroom to fix my hair. i looked up. our skylight was gone. There is now just a hole opening to the sky.

i have an INTENSE need to go pee.

some may suggest covering the hole... which is possible now....but i am too embarassed at letting a whole crew of men hear me urinate.

alas, i do not know my neighbours, and i cannot wander far,the long awaited sofa is arriving today between 9-5 and i volunteered to wait for it.

hmmm...difficulties.

addendum: errr, i knew they were working on my roof...but i didn't know they were allowed INSIDE my house........

***

oh, and i bit the bullet and bought myself a gocco printer....i'm so ridiculously excited.

enjoy.

Today was one of the first days that I've really enjoyed being on staff since being here in Montreal. I'm not sure what has happened. There haven't been any astonishing revelations of late. But I walked off campus today, and the sun was shining, my ipod was on and I thought to myself, "Today was one of the first days I've actually enjoyed being on campus."

I don't know what plans He has. I don't know where I'll be in five years. But being here isn't so bad, after all.

anticipation III.

so i wasn't home at all today, thus unable to keep up with the live blogs covering mac world...

but when i got home, i made sure to check them out...


and if you haven't already...

you need to check out Macbook Air.

it's hot.

mmmm.

anticipation II.

Today is macworld. One has to wonder.... what could they possibly come out with this year that could top last week's coming out of the new mac pro towers.... mmm, penryn octo... or last year's iPhone?

i know that i'm waiting in window-shopping anticipation.

anticipation.

there is something about the feeling of waiting in anticipation. Something about dropping off a roll of film and waiting for it to be developed. Something about holding the tiny envelope package and opening it to discover what's inside. Or something about putting the negatives in the developper and waiting while you shake the tumbler, hoping that the negatives will turn out. Or burning a contact sheet.

There's something about waiting in the unknown that is magical.

lovely, dainty pictures.

remember this?

Well..this is what it looks like in my housemate's bedroom now....






oh, and today, when i got home, there was a massive yellow puddle on my computer chair and on my desk (narrowly missing my computer by 2cm).
i thought to myself, "hmm, i never peed my pants this morning."

and looked up.

apparently..it is now leaking in my bedroom too.

i'm moving out in July. final decision made.

***

In other news, I feel like moving really just had a dampening effect on any creative spark I had in me. The online arts&craft world seems to be so much more robust in Toronto (just try googling it!), but in Montreal much digging needs to be done. However, I feel this weird surge of creative energy flowing in me; last night, I spent a good hour tossing in bed, thinking up simple shapes I could screen print on t-shirts this weekend. I am also in love with gocco printers, and I cannot tell you how much I want one, and how much I am going to save up to buy one. I also realize that a revamping of my blog NEEDS to happen, and oh, how often I have been desiring to do so...but I also feel like my CSS skills have flown out the window and beyond!

Tomorrow, the start of a fresh wave of creativity will begin! I feel its commencement already! I start my first course towards a Photography certificate, and I have an appointment to go shooting (pictures, not guns) with a friend right after class! On my way home, I think I'll pick up a t-shirt from american apparel, and if i'm not tired, I'll get started on my screen template.

Oh, and I'm also VERY ready to use these:




That's right a set of 19 DIFFERENT FISKARS SCISSORS, fresh from the Christmas haul. And yes, they ARE on a little turntable!! WONDERFUL? BEAUTIFUL? YES!!!! I sense a little card making action on the go as well!

Life is good. Ministry is getting to be good. I've been looking at a place to live come July, and it is sweetness, let me tell you. Friends are beautiful, both new and old. I'm sitting here and thinking...I am ready to explore!

the two lines that made my day.

"I can meet, maybe, a Christian boyfriend!"

She shuffles to the left, to sign up for a discipleship group.

"Oh wait, they aren't co-ed?"

***

Poor girl. She doesn't know that I've been going to church my whole life, minus a couple of months during my rebellious stage, and have been in a co-ed DG and have been on multiple projects....

and i STILL have yet to find a boyfriend.

haha.

Though, i think she wants one more than i.

streams of water.

I step out of the house, heart not heavy and burdened, but not light. A fine mist is building, and fog surrounding lights, making things hazy.

***
Before I left home, I had finished up a conversation with a friend, a brother who is now becoming dear to my heart. He was going to spend time with God, to receive some healing that needed to take place, but was feeling anxious.
I too was feeling the need for heart transformation.
***

The sidewalk is gritty with accumulated dirt and snow. I am walking up the hill and I cannot see too far ahead of me. It is a hard trek up. I think about how this is what my life has been like, these past few months. His voice has been hazy and I haven't been able to see more than one step in front of me at a time.

"What is your will?" I have cried out, many times.

"what is your will?"

"what is your will?"

Only echoes.

I walk and walk, ipod in my coat pocket, ear buds in my ears. A sense of peace falls. Cooling mist wraps around me. It is a feeling I have not had in months. I know things will be alright. He is here. Somehow, healing has happened. Instantly. Blind eyes made seeing. Lame legs made well. From death to life. Instant.

I go to my meeting.

As I am walking home, rain is pouring. It drenches. I see swirls of water, rushing down the hill. I watch the downpour and feel the rain on my face, dripping from my hair, dripping from the heavens.

Waters have broken forth from the wilderness. He has come. He has saved. It will be alright.

silence.

It's been months and months of silence. I ask, "Has He forgotten me?"

Somewhere, from deep, I know the answer is no. Does it come from what I've read? From what others have said? Perhaps. But mostly, the answer comes from the faithfulness I have seen over the course of years and years. From history to the present.

Sometimes, I don't want to talk. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes, I do out of obedience. It is the same with listening. The soul, it is dry.

I see miracles in my life. I cry. I know that the soul has not yet withered up. I long for Him. Sometimes Most of the time I am not diligent with my pursuit. I give up a lot. But though I know I cannot FEEL him, He is there. It is something I cannot shake. Ingrained truth.

Reading through my journal, I browsed past this:

"Where are you? Do you even hear me?

Isaiah 35
The wilderness and the dry land
shall be glad;
The desert shall rejoice and blossom
like the crocus;
it shall blossom abundantly
and rejoice with joy and singing.
The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it,
the majesty of Carmel and sharon,
they shall see the glory of the LORD,
the majesty of our God.

Strengthen the weak hands
and make firm the feeble knees.
Say to those who have an anxious heart,
'Be strong; fear not!"
Behold your God
will come with vengeance
with the recompense of God
He will come and save you!'

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then shall the lame man leap like a deer,
and the tongue of the mute sing for joy.
For waters break forth in the wilderness,
and streams in the desert;
the burning sand shall become a pool,
and the thirsty ground springs of water;
in the haunt of jackals, where they lie down,
the grass shall become reeds and rushes...."

Words that comforted me months ago comfort me now. It is not a depressing desert I travel through, but one of hope. Perhaps He is making me more faithful.

Thriving.

When I think of thriving, I think of what plants need to thrive. Sometimes just a little water is needed, and other times a cocktail of miracle-gro, fertilizer and new potting mix is needed. In the past two months I have been in Montreal, I haven't really been thriving. I guess with any transplant, there comes a time of uncertainty. Will that plant atrophy and die? Or, will it respond well to it's new surroundings? The hope is, by cutting and pruning, transplanting and even risking shock, that the plant will blossom--ugh, i cannot believe I just used the word "blossom"--and flourish. Thrive. But the threat is that the plant will wither into nothing.

For the past few months, I've really struggled to discern whether the transplant to Montreal was worth it. Was it the right choice? Would things be better, had I stayed in Toronto? While I was so immensely grateful to be finished support raising, a weird version of loneliness and boredom seemed to follow me to Montreal. It was something I couldn't really shake. I had put my hand to the plow, but couldn't help but look back.

At Winter Conference, I nearly burst into tears every time I thought about how it would soon be over, and I'd have to leave to head back to Montreal. I know that people who are still doing MPD and even others will read this incredulously. I mean, I should just be grateful that I'm here and not complain about how hard things are. I don't want it to seem as though I am complaining, but I do want to be honest about how I've been finding this transition harder than I'd expected. Atrophy has set in, in many areas of my life.

It was during Winter Conference that I realized there needed to be some changes made in my life. I realized a part of why I enjoyed WC so much this year was because I was very busy. I thrive when there's pressure and when there's a lot to get done. It's when I feel most alive. When there's pressure, it forces me to be organized, to embrace structure and to take huge steps of faith; when I don't have many things to do, I become lazy and lethargic, and that laziness leads to depression, boredom and loneliness. For the past two months, I haven't really done much. Sure, I've gone out sharing and have been discipling one girl...but that's about it. I did more as a student than I had in the past few months and I wasn't really challenged and DEFINITELY wasn't proactive about challenging myself. I sat around a lot (read: napped) feeling bored and restless, lazy and apathetic. Sitting on the train back from Winter Conference, I realized I needed to make a change in my life.

Today was the first day that I can honestly say I felt alive doing my job. There are some changes going on in our staff team, allowing me to feel more ownership on campus, and some personal women's ministry decisions i've made (i.e. to try to recruit more girls and start another study) are really starting to excite me. As well, I've signed up for an arts program at Concordia. Something to do in my spare time as a creative outlet.

I'm feeling optimistic about this coming semester, something I can honestly say I didn't even think was possible, a mere two weeks ago. I am also feeling very grateful that our God is a gracious God. I'm slow to learn and listen. But He patiently puts up with me...which is very very nice and humbling indeed.

Winter Conference 2007.

My friend Warren doesn't like the word "process". He says, and I quote, "I can't stand it when people 'process'." So, I am going to unpack Winter Conference 2007.

Heading into Winter Conference, I really didn't know what to expect. I did not have any official roles or responsibilities; my plan was to just be the go-between. The first year lackey. I arrived at the hotel on the 26th at 2am and I was completely tired out. As I was waiting in line, Ian arrived.

"How do you feel about singing?"
"I like it."
"In front of seven hundred people?"
"Sure!"
"Okay, we'll meet at 10:30am tomorrow after the staff meeting."

I'm not sure what I was thinking exactly, when I agreed to singing in the band. I mean, I love singing, and I love helping lead worship, but when I arrived at practice the next morning, I felt FULLY and TOTALLY inadequate. Here I was, surrounded by AMAZING talent, and while I like singing, I also recognize that I am fully unqualified and not very talented. After practicing almost all day,with a break for lunch and dinner, I was still feeling really ill-prepared, and I remember sitting at the front, waiting for main session to start, and crying out to God to help me worship Him.

There are few things I remember from Winter conference. Most (read: almost all) of my time was spent with the band, practicing. But there are a few moments that really stood out for me this conference:

Praying in French in front of 600 people.
Having many Quebecois approach me and thank me for allowing them to worship in their native tongue.
Hearing Eric Rose talk, and realizing, once again, the huge need that exists in Quebec.
Standing in line on New Years eve, waiting for hot dogs, with the boys in the band (I was one of two girls on our team of eight).
Hearing students from a variety of nations pray in their own language.
Hearing a girl named Sammi pray in Mandarin and bawling.
Singing on stage after midnight and seeing 500 students worshipping God.
Practicing in the early hours of the morning and singing till the late hours of the night.

It was my favourite conference, not because of a great party or great speakers or great friends (although, all three things DID add to it), but because there's nothing like standing up in front of 600 people and realizing that the only way you can do what you've been called to do (i.e. usher people into the worship of our Abba) is if you take steps of faith and trust that our God is a powerful and mighty God, whose name is the only name which has the power to save.

back from winter conference.

still processing thoughts. the most enjoyable winter conference i've ever had.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, FRIENDLIES!

If you didn't already know.....




I have a thing for birds. Just fake ones though. Or drawings. Or even better...silhouettes. I don't really like real ones. I'm always scared they'll poo on me.

My Mother's Christmas Tree/ Enough.





I've come to recognize that post-processing just makes a good/great shot even better. (For a really good example of this, check out my friend Justin.) I think I shall hop on this boat. I've held off on post processing, firstly because I really do desire to train myself to capture the best shot possible at that moment...not later, while sitting in front of a computer screen. Secondly, I really don't have any software to do so. I was on a trial version of Photoshop for awhile, but now that this trial has expired, I have iPhoto where minimal changes (i.e. colour balance) can be made. Sucky.

I've had quite a few offers for a "free" version of Photoshop (i.e. ripping it off someone else), but if I don't steal (that's right STEAL) music, why would I ever rip something worth 600 times one song (between $600 to a grand)? Soon, I'll pick up a copy of photoshop from the Ontario region C4C (they bought a license) and I'll be able to use it to do some design and such for Montreal and perhaps the Quebec region. But for now, I'll have to wait. A friend offered me to rip his photoshop program until I get a copy... I'm not sure what I think of this. It was very very very tempting... but what if I never get a legit copy? I wouldn't walk into a grocery store, steal something from a shelf because I needed it and then go back a week later to pay for it.

These are huge thoughts though... very debateable, and of course, controversial. For myself, it's easy to see the digital, internet realm as less tangible and therefore less "real" than physical products/objects like food and such. Nevertheless, they're still products, so I'm going to stick to my convictions and just hold off on Photoshop until I come by it in a legitimate fashion. Not everyone will agree with me on this. That's okay.

For now, my photos will remain unprocessed. What you see is what you get. No edits. (ha. kinda like my blog.) No actions. Sometimes, I like simplicity. Other times, I look at my friend Justin's pictures and I am jealous. I guess there is much to be said about dissatisfaction in my life and discontentedness. I am always wanting something more. A larger computer screen, a new lens, a mouse. Then, I look at a picture like this (Alfred Eisenstaedt; Menemsha Harbour, 1969) and I think to myself... in 1969 though there was no photoshop, God's creation was still as beautiful back then as it is now.

Somehow, He always says, "I am enough."

christmas prep/pickles/plane ride.







(can someone tell me why the colour fades when I upload my pictures online and how I should resolve this?)

***

I am going home today. I tend to call Edmonton home, even though there is nothing remotely home-esque about it except for the house i grew up in, and more importantly me mum and dad. I was sitting here waiting, at the clock struck four pm. I had not eaten yet. So, I went to the grocery store next door to my friend's apartment (where I've been staying) and bought a wrap that was labelled, "Roast Beef picnic wrap." How exciting. I went home...and bit into it...the first couple of bites were dull. But then...CRUNCH! I bit into something that I couldn't place...but all of a sudden the wrap tasted heavenly! At the end of the first half of the wrap, I realized that I had been eating a PICKLE! You see, I hate(d) pickles. I really do. Can't stand the darn things. Hadn't eaten one in so long..that I couldn't even place the taste. I don't know if it was my hunger or desperation...but the pickle made the sandwich HEAVENLY! I am now considering retracting my hatred for pickles.

***
update.

I am now back in Edmonton. I checked myself in early last night, and managed to score the infamous seat 12F. You know, the emergency exit with lots of leg room. I wanted to see if I'd prefer it to having a seat in front of me (which, oddly enough, I really enjoy). Just as I was settling in, a man, well over 6 feet walked on board and looked at me and said, "How'd you score that seat?" The longing in his voice was tangible. So, looking at my short legs, and realizing that other than for curiosity's sake, I fully didn't need that leg room ( I can't even reach under the seat in front of me when my legs are fully extended in normal circumstances), I offered him my seat. His gratitude and relief were palpable. Probably a good thing for me too. I ended up with no one on my right (because of the emergency exit just behind me) and no one on my left (empty seat). So I watched the Joy Luck Club in French, cried at its beauty,crocheted a scarf and worked on some christmas cards. Everytime i looked next to me and saw his legs extended beyond my seat, i thought about how nice it is to be nice and generous and all that jazz.

Boy in the moon.

this is beautiful, haunting, devastating and moving, all at once.

It is late. I want to write this memory down before I forget.

The journey with Abinoam.

"Is that the old testimony or the new testimony?" he asks, gesturing to the open bible on my lap.
"It's both," I say, assuming that he means testament.
"The old testimony and the new, they cannot go together." He has a thick Jewish accent.

Prior to this, I was annoyed that someone had sat down next to me. I often pray that I'll have a whole row to myself.
Coming out of Montreal, it looks like I'll be lucky. The train makes its stop at Dorval. I say a quick prayer: "Lord, please let me sit alone." I want a row to myself, but I also do not desire the onus of having to start a spiritual conversation. A man with a thick, greying beard, blue coat and beige toque sees the seat 6c and sits down. I am in 6d. I blink with annoyance. My first thought is, "I hope he's not a crazy." There is a loud, boisterous man sitting four rows up, and I pity the woman sitting across from him. I'm annoyed from four rows behind. I do not wish to face the same predicament, the same misfortune of sitting next to a loud, talkative man. I want to sit in quiet. Get some work done. Have leg room.

This will no longer happen. Thankfully the man goes to sleep. So do I.

Sometime later, I wake up and pull out my Bible. I read Acts and am busy contemplating. The man stirs and sits up.

And so the conversation begins. I reply, "I believe that the Old Testament and the New Testament go hand in hand. The Old Testament is a foreshadowing of what was to come in the New Testament."

"No." he replies resolutely.

"Even in the Old Testament, there are many prophecies about the character of a Messiah, Jesus."

"Jesus was just a good Jew."

"Are you religious?"

"I am a Jew. I am visiting from Israel."

We chat for awhile about how cold it is. About his visit. But soon, we get back into religious talk. What do I do, he asks. I tell him I am a missionary, working in Montreal. He asks me if it is my mission to convert. I tell him that I cannot force conversions, but that I hope that students in Montreal will come to know Jesus as their Messiah, their Saviour. He asks me pointedly, "So your goal is conversion then."

"Yes," I reply unapologetically, "I suppose it is."

He tells me he is a Jew by birth, but he does not believe in God. Does he believe in heaven? He says that one must follow the rules to enter into heaven. There are--he scrounges up his face in an attempt to remember-- 713 rules, he claims.

"Have you broken even one of them?" I say, silently noting his lack of yarmulke.
"Yes. I am not going to heaven."
Defiantly, he asks, "Will you? Do you fast for forgiveness? Religious Jews fast "

"Yes, I do fast, but I do not fast so that I will be forgiven."

"Jewish people fast for forgiveness," he states.

I reply that I do not fast so that I can be forgiven, because Jesus forgave all my sins, past present and future the moment I placed my faith in him. I tell him I fast out of obedience and a desire for greater intimacy with Christ.

He says, "Jesus was just a good Jew."

We have apologetics conversations over the character of Jesus. The validity of the Bible. Coffee. I share the gospel, chopped up in different pieces many times. In my head, I marvel at such an opportunity, despite my rebellious nature. A blessing despite my stubborn laziness.

The conversation continues until slightly past Kingston.

He goes back to sleep, and after attempting a Sudoku, so do I, lulled by the gentle rocking of the train and motion sickness.

We reach Toronto, and as we stand to get off the train, I say, "I missed your name." I want to know his name so that I can pray for him, without having to refer to him as "the man i met on a train."
"I didn't tell you my name."
I do not know how to reply.
He smiles, offers his hand and says, "It's Abinoam. A name from the Holy Testament."

Barak's father. Father of kindness.

The journey is over, at least the one to Toronto is. Abinoam, on the other hand, may be just starting his journey. THE journey. The only one that will ever matter. I think I will pray for him, so that at the end of the day our destination becomes the same.

push, pull.

in a little while (i.e. 2 hours) i will be leaving montreal for a good three weeks and one day. Week #1 will be spent working from Toronto and visiting friends, week #2 is Christmas out West and week #3 will be a frenetic week of serving students at our annual winter conference in Toronto and taking a photoshop course to enhance my design skills.

i woke up this morning and thought to myself, "I'm going home today!" Upon reflection, Toronto is no longer home. It's a place to visit. To see old friends. But it isn't home. In fact, apart from seeing good friends, it's a hassle. Living out of a suitcase as a guest in someone's house gets tiring. The friends make it worth it, and the city itself makes it worth it. But it isn't home. Going "home" to Edmonton will be nice. We're not a huge Christmas family, but it'll be nice to see my parents, and get caught up on making Christmas gifts. But aside from my parents, Edmonton isn't home either.

There is a tension that exists. I'm happy to be going "home" to all these places. But somehow I am dreaming of January 4th, when I'm back here in Montreal at home and in a regular routine. I am also longing for a day when I see my true home and greet my Master face to face for the first time.

holes.

This is a hole in our ceiling.


Actually, to be more correct, this is a hole in the ceiling of my housemate's bedroom. It was sagging for awhile from a leak. But when the snow started to melt on our roof.... it began sagging even more. One day, "Ploop" was the sound we heard...and..

VOILA!

a hole!

I seem to attract holes.

Luckily, my room does not have a hole.

I shouldn't speak too soon though. I mean, in the one month I've lived here, there has been a break in, and a peeping tom (who was most likely a roofer). A hole in the wall is just that little maraschino cherry on top of the cake. A bigger hole COULD happen. MAYBE someone will use dynamite and blow a hole in our wall. Now THAT would be a fantastic end to the 2464 household epic saga.

church.

I woke up this morning, with a sense of dread. I didn't want to head outside in the cold air and head to a church, seemingly equally as frigid. I'm sure it's not as unfriendly as I perceive it to be; I've met people who have been willing to help me put up my bookshelf, my boss and his wife go there, a girl I disciple goes there. Yet, the only person who has ever really reached out to me, without making me feel like a burden, is the pastor's wife. In the five or so weeks I have attended, I have met some people, but each week, I sit alone. Being new is hard. It requires a lot of proactivity. I am not a proactive person when it comes to meeting new people in an unfamiliar setting. January will be better, I tell myself. I will start going to Sunday school, and I will get plugged into a small group. Today was my last Sunday there until the new year. I was late coming in, sat alone, and left right after service. I didn't want to face the aloneness. There was a sense of relief to not have to play the 'new person role' for a couple of weeks.

As I think about this, I think about the recurrent theme of loneliness this year. Edmonton was a lonely time, and even before that, loneliness was something that seemed to follow me around. A shroud. I sat in service, realizing that this year, so many things have been stripped away, leaving me naked, exposed and confused. Somewhere in the midst, Jesus is there. The only constant. I am not alone.

He says, "Follow me."

This journey excites me.

Breathing. ~Lifehouse.

I'm finding my way back to sanity again,
Though I don't really know what I'm going to do when I get there.
Take a breath and hold on tight,
Spin around one more time,
And gracefully fall back to the arms of Grace.

'Cause I am hanging on every word you say and,
Even if you don't want to speak tonight that's alright,
Alright with me.
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing,
Is where I want to be.
Yeah.
Where I want to be.

I'm looking past the shadows in my mind into the truth and I'm,
Trying to identify the voices in my head.
God which one's you?
Let me feel one more time what it feels like to feel alive,
And break these calluses off of me,
One more time.

'Cause I am hanging on every word you say and,
Even if you don't want to speak tonight that's alright,
Alright with me.
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside your door and listen to you breathing,
Is where I want to be.
Yeah.

I don't want a thing from you.
Bet you're tired of me waiting for the scraps to fall off your table to the ground.

'Cause I just want to be here now.

'Cause I am hanging on every word you say and,
Even if you don't want to speak tonight that's alright,
Alright with me.
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing,
Is where I want to be.
Yeah.

'Cause I am hanging on every word you say and,
Even if you don't want to speak tonight that's alright,
Alright with me.
'Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside Heaven's door and listen to you breathing,
Is where I want to be.
Yeah.
Where I want to be.
Where I want to be....

from training to...youtube.

this dude is amazing.

snow.

It is snowing outside. Not just snowing, but like, hardcore snowing! There is a car parked next to my house. I do not think it'll be going anywhere, anytime soon. If I weren't heading to Ontario for training today, I'd probably go snowboarding RIGHT away. The pow would be AMAZING.

However, since I am going to training... i feel like the next best thing to snowboarding....will be... going shooting. So i am going to load up my camera and head outside!

Toodles for the week!

P.S. Today is my friend Warren's birthday. If you see him, tell him happy birthday. If you do not see him, tell a random stranger on the street that it is Warren's birthday. DOO ITTT NOW!

Vespa Vagabond.

On a much less creepy and much more fun note..


AHHH THIS IS AMAZING!!!!!!!

Butt Naked.

I was standing in my bathroom, undressed, with my arm under the shower, waiting for the water to heat up, when i looked up at the skylight and saw a man standing, staring at me, whilst i was butt naked.

i am going to choose to believe that he was a roofer. Because if he was not a roofer, and just a sketchy man, I would probably desire to move immediately.

Yield.

Transparency. People have been telling me I'm a transparent person. I guess I am. I generally don't shy away from saying what I'm thinking or feeling. But if you've been following my blog, you've probably noticed I've been a bit more guarded this month. Probably still more transparent than most people, but guarded nevertheless.

People always ask me how I'm doing. And in my head, I've had this misconception that life as a missionary is going to be full of adventure and glory. They'll ask, and I'll respond, "I'm doing good," "Just adjusting, but overall good."

"Are you having fun?"
"Yeah I am."

I do not elaborate. To my ears, my words are flat and dull and lacking truth.

Truth is, this month has been hard. I dread certain days more than others, and I've spent this whole month pondering the idea of not returning to staff and full-time missions/ministry next year. I spend some days feeling bored and unchallenged. Other days, I'm bored because the challenge is so crippling, I feel I can't rise to it and take hold of it by the horns. Approaching the 5th week of being here, I'd really been questioning my calling, spending time dwelling on how much I miss Toronto and how much I'd like to do other things like design or photography or both. On Sundays, I'd head to church, tired after a full week of meeting all new people, and feel lonely and tired upon my return home, having met a host of new people, but not really clicking with anyone. The inundation with French, a language that I know but yet do not know, the loneliness of being apart from family and my church family, the frustration of not knowing my way around and wanting to reach certain goals but feeling crippled by my situation, makes me realize that missions isn't full of glory. It isn't an adventure. It's hard. A lot of the time, it requires plodding away, diligently at mundane tasks. And the more I stay here, the more I realize things I've sacrificed to be here. For the past few weeks, the thought that has kept me going hasn't been a compelling vision of reaching Montreal, but the thought that I could move back to Toronto at the end of the year, quit staff and do something easier. Something more enjoyable.

Yesterday, I was in Toronto for a visit. People at church were asking me how my time in Montreal has been. My first inclination was to reply with the flat and lacklustre, "It's going well," but it became too flat for my ears, so instead, when my pastor's wife asked me, I replied, "It's hard." No elaboration. Just that. She turned and pointed to the powerpoint slide, which contained the title of the message that the guest speaker would preach on.

"Following God is not always easy, but it is always good."

I told her that I was not ready to hear a convicting message.

But hear, did i ever! A missionary on furlough from Kazakhstan shared three points.

1. we need to yield control of our future and our work to God.

As soon as I heard this, I knew God was speaking to me. Though I know God has called me to Montreal, I've been living with the idea of controlling that final decision come June. I've been stubborn and unwilling to consider staying here another year, and desiring to find different work, despite knowing that God has called me here.

2. we need to yield our priorities.

The speaker then went on to describe how God has certain priorities that need to take place above ALL other things in our lives. Namely, His glory and His glory alone. He talked about how the gospel NEEDS to be preached. He said these words, "We talk of the second coming. half the world has never even heard of the first. The question isn't 'Is God going to be building his kingdom?' but rather, 'Are we going to join Him and allow Him to use us in this endeavour?'"
As I thought about this, I realized that for the past 5 weeks, life has been very ME centered and not very GOSPEL centered. I've lacked joy because MY "needs" haven't been fulfilled, when all along, Jesus has been saying, "YOUR greatest need was fulfilled on the cross. But those around you in Montreal, don't even REALIZE they have a need."

3. We need to yield our pride.

"The axe cannot boast of the trees that it has cut down. It could do nothing but for the woodsman. He made it, he sharpened it, and he used it. The moment he throws it aside, it becomes only old iron. O that I may never lose sight of this."
~Samuel Brengle.

In the service, a voice spoke to my heart saying, "Montreal is where I want you to be. Will you yield to me? Will you yield your control, your priorities, your pride and your desires to me?"

After the service, I was asked to share a bit about Montreal. I broke down. I cried in front of my whole english congregation. How mortifying. In sharing about Montreal, my heart of frustration and loneliness spilled out. In sharing, I realized, for perhaps the first time, the condition of my heart. I cried and begged for prayer, seeing the depravity that exists in my heart. Truth is, at this point in time, I KNOW Montreal is where God desires me to be. But I myself do not feel much as though I want to be here. Don't get me wrong, I love the staff team and the students are just so kind and gracious. But it is SO much easier to think about how I could be doing other things, in a city where my church family, whom I love so dearly is, and where some of my best friends are. It's so much easier to think about waking up in a place where language isn't a frustration, and where I don't need to constantly be reading maps or meeting new people.

Following God isn't easy. I'm not wired to follow Him. It's a choice that is made each day to continue pressing onwards. I'm realizing that missions isn't always a happy thing, full of fun and blue skies and sunny days. It's hard. It's depressing. I'll be honest. But Jesus never said things would be easy. In fact, He tells those who desire to follow Him, to pick up their cross. A cross is an excruciating, painful, heavy beast of a thing. What DOES ensue, however, from yielding control to Him is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

I want those things.

May I yield over my control to Him and say, "Yes Lord, I will follow You in this endeavour, as you build up your Kingdom, person by person, here in Montreal."

ridiculous.

it's ridiculous that i'm up at 3am because i'm scared someone else is in the house. someone unwanted. i'm not usually this jumpy, but tonight i'm so paranoid, i'm seriously typing slowly so that the clicking of my keyboard is unheard.

When i was on the phone at 11pm with my friend Jesskah, I kept telling her I thought someone was in my house. Eventually she told me to shut up or go check. The thought of me being unarmed and facing an intruder......i shut up. Concurrently, my friend Francis had to convince me to go pee because i was scared to leave my room.

i've gotten altogether about 1 hr of sleep. Restless sleep. I just woke up because i heard a huge BOOM come from outside my room. But, i don't want to go check to see what has happened...I'm sure something has fallen or something else..but i don't want to check because....see above paragraph.

as i said..i'm not usually this jumpy when i'm alone. I've never felt this anxious. I don't know why tonight my sympathetic NS is going up the wazoo. Maybe it's the week of bad dreams I've had that there's an intruder in the house.

woo. i know my roommate doesn't want to move. and i really like living with this roommate. But next year, i think i need to move somewhere where there's security.

i'm gonna crash tomorrow during all the meetings.

thoughts in my head.

for how long?
why?

there are so many thoughts, going round and round.
this isn't easy. but it's not hard. at least, not in the way i imagined it would be.
it's not what i thought it would be like.

i feel unchallenged, but at the same time unmotivated. ineffective. no one's fault but my own.
i wonder a lot, but feel trapped. stupid. when i voice my thoughts.

i'm bored. i feel like i should be really excited. like i should power through the day, grateful to BE.

but now that i am in such a place, i wonder...is this all there is?

there are great things. people. place. time. but the restlessness continues, and i don't even know what i am yearning for.

a picture of a man falling 60 feet, dying, and not knowing Jesus continues to haunt me. a man i did not know. i cry for him sometimes.

shopaholic? (for a limited time a.k.a today only)

Today, was a brilliant shopping day. I LOVE matt and nat, and it's made my blog a couple of times. Well, it's making it again, simply because, today I became very metropolitan, and along with some friends attended a Matt and Nat sample sale!!!!! I am now the proud owner of the largest bag ever.... a $135 dollar bag reduced more than 50%!

I also purchased a fall/early winter jacket, because the girls here in Montreal are way too hip... and I desire to be hip too.

This post is highly superficial, and I'm feeling the superficiality. Ah well. Jess Wynja, you are probably the only reader who will appreciate this post.

week 3.

I've been doing a lot of wrestling in the past couple of weeks. I haven't come to any conclusions. I don't know if what I'm hearing is of me, or of God. It's been confusing, and adjusting while confused is tiring.

But today, while I was sitting and talking to a girl about what she thought of Christianity, I distinctly thought to myself, "This is what I love doing."

And the girl said, "What must I do?"

"Believe."

I don't know if she'll "choose" to believe or not. But I do know that when God calls, He is irresistible.

May He be irresistible to me too.

Then he brought them out and said, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" And they said, "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household." And they spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. And he took them the same hour of the night and washed their wounds; and he was baptized at once, he and all his family. Then he brought them up into his house and set food before them. And he rejoiced along with his entire household that he had believed in God. ~Acts 16:30-34.

Random thoughts while I wait for my bagel to toast.

• One of the things that drew me to my church in Toronto was that I could have a stalled car in the parking lot, not belong to the church at all, and someone would still come out and help me. They're just that friendly. Coming to Montreal, I prayed that I would find a church where people would be caring enough to help a stranger. Last night, two people I had met just hours before, came to my house to help me assemble my bookshelf even though it was already 10pm and dark out.

• Yesterday, I started unpacking. I set up my bookshelf, set up my bed (finally!), and took some of my clothing out of their boxes. For the past week and a half, I've been really tired, in part because of huge changes, but also because of the huge disorganization in my house. A disorganized house, for me, is unsettling. This morning is the first morning I've woken up not feeling as though a truck had run over me. My room is far from unpacked, but even just getting the major things up and tidied is such a huge relief! I feel energized! A neat and tidy home is a happy home!

• Yesterday I had da been lo (Chinese Hot Pot). Miam miam!

• Last Tuesday, when I was on campus at UdeM I was petrified of approaching people with my horrible anglo french. But this week, I was reminded that I'm in a war, and that in a war, you get muddy and you gotta stop caring about how your hair looks. I'm a hugely prideful person, and I hate being humbled. Speaking French is humbling. It is a reminder of how inadequate I am. But, I took a faith step, and approached some people (with a Francophone right by my side, mind you) and loved it! I have a feeling that I'm going to come out of every Tuesday being fried...but I'm excited. Wars are devastating...but kinda exciting too. Especially when you know that in the end, the War has already been won.
  

• Today is my dear friend Aban's birthday. She is the cutest girl ever, and I miss her muchly.

• I organized the books on my bookshelf by colour. It is very rainbowesque.

Time to jet. Gotta do some final prep for my discipleship group today and then head out the door!

introvert. extrovert?

You know, when I was in Edmonton, I always felt really tired. I'd wake up at 9 or 10am, and 2 hours later, I'd be tired. The only time I felt alive was when I met up with friends-- something that only happened once, maybe twice, a week.

Now, I'm here in Montreal, and this week has been exhausting. Most mornings I've woken up feeling like I've been hit by a truck. No joke. Meeting new people every day has been draining--I hate small talk-- and coming home and spending my free time painting walls instead of reading or sleeping or crafting or playing music hasn't alleviated any tiredness.

I realize that I'm not a full out introvert, but neither am i a full out extrovert . I love people, but I need the right kinds of people to recharge and I also need to be okay with being alone sometimes. A lot of the time, I say yes to doing things with people because I feel that if I don't, I'll miss out on some cool adventure. Truth is, I need to establish boundaries so that I can stay a happy person. Sometimes it'll mean I need to find people to hang out with. Other times it'll mean that I have to say a firm NO, so that I can be alone.

Moving is hard. It's a lot of small talk. Don't get me wrong, the Montreal staff team is absolutely amazing, and all the students I've met have been so great. I'm so excited to get to work with them. I know I'll love hanging out with them and that eventually I'll find the right people to recharge with. But this whole week, I've said yes to every invitation to hang out with people. In part, this has been because I am fearful of feeling lonely, like I did in Edmonton, or that if I say no, people won't ask me to hang out again. Also, I really want to get to know people, and I know that I need to hang out to do so.

Despite the great times that have been had (and there have been MANY), this past friday night was probably the most relaxing time of the week. I sat in my kitchen, read blogs, talked to some friends I hadn't talked to in a long while on msn, and basically did nothing, all alone. It was so nice to just be ALONE. This is something I never thought I'd say, whilst I was in Edmonton.

Anyways, it's late, and I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired. This blog feels very piece-y and kinda jumbled.


going...



going...




gone.