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!