a novel

there is a moth fluttering around on the floor beside me. i hope it finds a way out side sometime soon. it is struggling to get back to where it will flourish. i doubt that is the recently vacuumed (though not super recent) carpet of our living room. sometime i find that only good conversation and cuddles and spontaneous pillow fights will flourish there. i have doubts as to why i choose this space to spread my homework out around me and attempt to be studious. most times i feel like the moth who flutters around and can not be sustained. scattered thoughts clouded out by facebook status updates and the anticipation of random visitors who rarely arrive on schedule even though they are unexpected. knowing when to hide away with a book, when to feel guilty that i have not done much today, and when to admit that: yes, this is actually rather a light semester and i am bored by it. i find myself waffling between feelings of inspiration, depression and the hope that inspiration will find me. ...

Country World God/Deity Self Friends Family My professor put this list of items on the board in my International Relations class. Today we were looking at the concept of ethics in the global world. He asked us to put them in order of our priorities. I thought such a thing would be easy to do. I know what I believe and why I live the way I do, don't I? I floundered. I know were country goes: dead last. I carry two nations passports, but i'm extremely critical of both. And besides, I'm a citizen of a different kingdom entirely. So that was easy, but what about the rest? God should go first, right? But... i often fail at keeping God there, sometimes God slips down the list, is God really first in my life at the moment? If not what is? Friends trump family at this point in my life, and that sucks. Not that I don't love my friends, but I miss my family. And hard as it is to be honest, my friends might not stay in my life forever, my family will. And now we get to the tw...

my noise is stuffed and my head hurts a little. it is Sunday morning, and something inside of me did not want to go to church. I don't know where the lethargy comes from. The past few days i have dragged myself out of bed after 10 hours of sleep. And then dosed off later while reading textbooks. the weather is beautiful, but to enjoy it takes the energy of opening the door and stepping out. courage. oh courage, where have thoust hidden thyself? i simply want to curl up with someone, i really don't care who, and watch movie after movie so that the desire to make sense of myself and my life is mummified under pretense of pleasure. i want to disappear for a time, to step off the earth with someone who is dedicated to loving me first, but i have a hard time finding, or believing i deserve, that someone. i want to sleep until i have energy to sing and dance and shout. and read. and research. and write wonderful papers and articles. i think i'll take a walk.

I have had a lot of emotional energy this weekend. I have had a few dance parties, random giggleness, a pillow fight, a door slamming party, an attempt to do homework that end up with a page full of frustrated notes and a random collage, a movie on the porch, a lot of random noise making, a lot of tea, a game of settles, and an hour this afternoon where i sat down and simply wrote out my questions. Here are some of them: What am I here for? What am I doing? Am I being called to more than I am living? Can I do more than ask questions? Do I need to do more? Will God use the questions? Why do all the questions add together? Am I really living or am i just pretending? Why do I feel the need to be validated? Why can't i sing alone? why can't i make the story be about others? why do i always try to steal the spotlight? Where is God working? Have I also been working on my life? Why are there so many questions? Where is God in all of this? If I were to believe what I want to believe, w...

it's honesty time. i'm scared of my blog. i feel pressured to write meaningful things for my readers. i've forgotten that it's my blog, and though i dearly love having people read it, that is not its purpose. its purpose is to document my life. and to give me a place for self expression. i wanted someplace that would help me find and express meaning for myself. and perhaps translate that meaning to other people. but i never wanted to feel pressured to be profound. that's what my editorial is for. and so i'm going to try to start being honest. blogging for me as opposed to for others. and it feels really selfish (i guess i have to thank my strong 2 wing for that one). and so, life is good. i can see it all around me. the beauty of the rain and the sun,the honors kids who played the screaming ninja game on the hill just because, a cup of warm tea in my lap last night as i read about human rights, a cuddle puddle on the floor of our apartment, falling asleep doing ...

god has given me community. i am going to love in that. i have wise people in my life. for that i am immensely thankful. one of those wise people sleeps in my room. and yesterday afternoon she reminded me that i don't have to get everything done at once. she was able to look at me, and to see through the stress i was constructing for my life, and tell me that i needn't be so stressed. it is nice to be around someone who knows me and can tell me when i am being ridiculous. especially when that person has the wisdom to sit me down and make me realize it. i have solid people in my life. a friend who sat with me and simply listened as i poured out my fears, my anxieties, and my confusion. a wonderful man who sat with me in companionable silence as i cried. others, girls,who surrounded me with prayers and arms of love as i continued my processing and confusion this morning. i have wondering people in my life. an amazing woman who spent a few hours processing all the cares of ou...

change is coming. i feel it in the wind. in the nights of confusing and jumbled dreams. in the last minute errands. in all the sad, heartfelt, and awkward good byes. in the laundry basket that needs to be empty and the suitcase that needs to be full. i'm at peace. i'm nostalgic. i'm nervous. and of course i'm terrified. terrified of the courses that will challenge me, the responsibilities that will demand so much from me, and the relationships that will have changed. i'm scared that the community i have been planning for, dreaming of, and imagining in my head for almost 12 months will fall short. that others will have different expectations. i am terrified that i will not be content with what comes. i'm saddened that i must leave this place where i have been at home for the past 4 months. the relationships i am building here. the church community that is much bigger and stabler than the one i hope to be apart of at school. the garden produce i helped to plan...

this past week i found myself volunteering at a day camp in Winnipeg's inner city. While i have in fact been working with kids for the past month, i was almost terrified when anticipating the events of this week. the stories from the extremely challenging and draining experience the rest of my coworkers remembered from two years ago didn't help matters much. and so i approached the week with a mindset of prayer. i knew that i would need it. and the devotionals led each morning by one of the day camp's staff where all about letting god work through us. though the theology was a lot more charismatic than i am used to, i tried to take the message to heart. i was placed in a group with three amazing aboriginal girls: 6, 7, and 8. they loved to cling to me, and i much appreciated the love they poured on me, but they also loved to run off and challenge my authority. i spent a lot of my time chasing after them and trying to keep them from fighting, complaining, or getting hurt. un...

I’m a puzzler. Dump out the box and show me all the little pieces and I get hypnotized. Usually for hours. Watching the transformation of individual, incomplete pieces into a single image inspires me. So sometimes I find the illusion of a puzzle helpful when I think about life, especially my own life, and how all of my experiences fit together into a story of transformation. At times puzzles, and life, come easily: pieces of the same color and shape seem to fit together. There are coherent themes that guide me and life lessons that seem to run through and between different experiences, relationships, and adventures. The whole image forms fast and clear. And at times you find the puzzle pieces that, no matter how hard you try, don’t seem to fit the puzzle. The ones that seem to come from a different puzzle box entirely. Sometimes my life feels like puzzle pieces that don’t always fit together. This past year, for me, has been full of different pieces, each with rugged edges, in differen...

i joined the red and white throngs who celebrated canada yesterday. 144 years. people screaming, people singing, people with another excuse to get drunk. i wore read. red reminds me of another patriotic event. red, blue and yellow cloth blowing in the wind. the same cloth sticking to hot, sweaty, black bodies pressed tightly against the only white people in the crowd. the cinquantenaire. t'chad's 50th birthday party. January 11, 2011. an overwhelming display of military might: on foot, on tank, on horse, and even on camel back. an extremely sobering display of disparity and economic (and to my eye moral) discrepancy. flat screen tv's and bubbling fountains in the middle of a starving city where the majority of the population is without clean water or reliable power. memories like this made me sick to the stomach as i watched 'patriotic' canadians celebrate their freedom with alcohol and frivolity. and i wonder about sobering up our own drunken arrogance. i don't...

one day, about twenty years ago to the day, two people i love very much carried a lively bundle of pink flesh (one that, i have on good authority, cried to echo the scream of the seagull)home to a house full of boxes and a slightly jealous, almost two year old, blond headed tyrant of a brother. they loved her, challenged her, prayed for her, inspired her, and even provided her with another, this time brown haired and female, sibling to torment her, shower her with blessings, and prevent her, by portraying a visage always more beautiful than the one in the mirror, from ever becoming too vain. they dragged her around the country (with her and her rambunctious siblings' consent of course), watched her grow and change, embracing the world with all its beauty and heartache. and now, twenty years later, i sit and eat left over birthday cake. i want to reflect on the meaning of my particular yesterday, contemplate the complexity of moving from teens to twenties, give a somewhat anecdotal ...

as part of my role as senior counselor at day camp, i am commissioned to write skits for each morning's devotional. i just finished writing one about unmet and exceeded expectations. so today i'm thinking about expectations and how god always seems to challenge mine. in april, when people asked me what i was excited about this summer, i couldn't give them a reasonable answer. because, honestly, i wasn't excited about very much. i came to winnipeg expecting to have a so-so summer full of missing community and waiting for the fall. i was ready to be patient for life to start up again in august and simply work in the mean time. i was here to pass the 4 months and to earn enough to enjoy my real life at school. funny how god shakes things up. since being back in winnipeg, lots of unexpected things have occurred. not all of them good, but all of them stand collectively as a challenge to the way i visioned my summer back in april. here, i have worked a physical job which i re...

my finger is starting to itch (i recently hurt it pretty severely at work and the skin is starting to grow back in). my soul has been itching for quite some time. i've been taught that itching is a healthy sign. it signifies healing. it means that my body is reconstructing itself in the way it was made to. but it itches. i think about itchy and scratchy. that horrifying simpsons cartoon. and about which came first: the itch or the scratch? my finger itches because it was gorged and crushed,both too extreme of actions to be classified as a mere scratch. and then mosquito bites: the anticipated horde of itchyness that will descend in a few short weeks. they itch before scratching as well. and then more so afterwards of course. but in terms of my soul, i wonder if the paradigm is not reversed. i wonder if my soul itches because it was scratched. i wonder if my time in Chad, my small african adventure, did not scratch my very soul? and hence, my soul began to itch. to desire wholen...

did you know i am a lucky person? there is a wonderful woman out there, one who loves me more than anything and will even wash the diahria off me in the middle of the night. this woman is my mother. she is always there for me, and has always been one of my best friends. i am so amazingly blessed to have such a mother. the only thing that troubles me about our relationship, is that i am so far away on the day dedicated to celebrating her. this past year i have been honored to renew my relationship with her. i have been awed by her resilience, her determination, and her courage. her love for the world and the joy in her soul have inspired me. i have been encouraged by her persistance despite obsticales and her endless compassion. this woman has taught me so much and i'm so thankful and proud of my mother. there is no one else like her. as i go cutting my own path through the woods of this world, i strive to live up to her example and to heed her many words of wisdom. i thank God dai...

Since coming back from Chad I’m really uncertain about where I’m heading in life. I haven’t rediscovered the passions I had before leaving, but I find myself searching more and more after God. I am waiting on the Lord to help me discover what I am passionate about and where I am headed. My theme for the past while has been to let God do the planning. And the more I wait on God, the more excited I find myself for what She has in mind for me. This summer I will be in Winnipeg. I will be working full time, maybe extra. I will be reconnecting, staying connected, and building new connections. I will be reading. I will be riding the bus. Through all of it, I hope to be waiting on my Christ, and searching after my King.

i'm excited to share. i want to let people know what life was like. but i don't know where to start. people ask me questions like : "how was Chad?" or "what did you do?" or "tell me what you learned?" and i feel like i'm telling a single tale over and over again. there is so much more i want to share, but sometimes i feel like there is no way to bridge the gap. how can i talk about my experiences like getting accosted by shoe sales men, having my head fall off in class, or ripping my panier while teaching? so many good stories that are not getting told because they are so different. i don't expect people to make the jump to N'Djamena easily. but sometimes it would be nice to be able to talk to people without having to build that bridge first. sure i like to be exotic. i like it when people stare and comment about the yards of fabric tied around my head. but when people understand boule (like taylor), or know what it's like to fit th...

sometimes i scare myself. I read through what i have written, looking at my philosophical and theological questions, and i wonder: who is this girl? i know i'm beautiful, smart, passionate, and usually try to be pretty loving/compassionate. those are things i've come to accept. I'm learning that i will never fit the mold and that i had better stop trying. and sometimes, when i'm not thinking about it too much, i am trying my hand at simply being me. and then i get distracted by the lists of things i should be doing. this week i have taken a time out. i have restrained from too much thought, i have read 11 books of young adult fantasy (Tamara Pierce), and i have caught up on tv shows. i have enjoyed the afternoon sunshine and the comfort of curling up with a blanket in the evenings. i have been at peace. and i wonder that i do not feel overly guilty for my time of solace. today i will confront the me i was 4 months ago. the me i can see in the blog entries from my fall....

Today was a different day. Here are a list of things i did that i hadn't experienced in four months (and by the way, that sentence is negative past perfect): i spoke english in a coffee shop. i walked into a coffee shop. i asked someone to turn on the heat. my feet are cold. i slept without a mosquito net. i'm wearing a sweater and long fleece pants. i'm cold enough to need tea. it's cloudy and wet outside. there is green grass instead of sand. people drive more than 30 mph. there are no mottos or donkeys or people on the streets. i had strawberries and prepackaged chicken breasts for dinner. the dog's food comes from a can. the milk comes from a cow and needs to stay in the fridge. the internet moves faster than i do. my computer can stay plugged into the wall without fear of a power serge. i don't have to worry about power or solar or running water. i talked to people in real time online. i had to explain how to tie a panier on your head. i didn't shake so...

I write to make sense of the world. In reality, Jane Austin is somewhat full of it. There isn’t the choice between sense and sensibility, sense is simply an illusion. In the words of my students “I am comprehending nothing”. The world is a mess, and somehow we are all under the illusion that we much make sense of the incomprehensible. And romance, the largest illusion of all. The authors, the playwrights, and the directors make us believe that is we wait long enough, try hard enough, etc life will be a romantic fantasy. The harder, and more realistic mission is to accept the illusions. I came to Chad with hopes and dreams, and romantic expectations. Accepting that most of these were illusions has been a challenge. I am not going to make a noticeable difference in the world. My language skills will never be up to par before I go. Life is going to be boring. I am young, and immature, and romantic. My family is not, and has never been, the be all and end all of life styles. Humility is my...

patience. i will adapt. i will learn. i will speak. i will teach. i will trust. i will become. god has a plan. courage. no need to fear (except the cars and mottos on the goudron). no need to shy away. dig in. be you. feel deeply endurance. live. keep living. keep trying. pick yourself up and get back at it. sleep. that's the key. but not too much of it. and now, yoga... maybe that will help love. everyone and all of you. take extra breaths and remember your cloud of witnesses. and then sing a sweet song unto the lord.

The Chadian French does not use segues. It took me two weeks to realize that. For awhile I thought my French comprehension was so poor I must have been missing some important transition language. But it’s true, the Chadian’s don’t use segues. At times they jump from one conversation to another and back again so fast, if you blink, you’d miss it. Fitting then, that I jumped from snow to sand, from English to French, from wealth and development to poverty and trash, from single life to family living. No segues for me either. No nice time of transition, just a huge jump from one side of the ocean to the other. Something like the philosophy of sink or swim. I hope I’m swimming. I walk out the door in the morning and remember to tie my piece of Chadian cloth, or sometimes a whole pannier (yard of fabric that you can wear as a wrap skirt), around my head before stepping into the heat of the Sahel. Pants are taboo and sunglasses a must. As I walk down the street I avoid both the puddles of s...