Club Jesus

Everyone is strugging. You just don't know it.

Can you walk down the main street of your city and tell me that everyone that you see is happy?

Can you tell me that they're content?

If you can answer either question, how are you so sure?
I truly believe that everyone is lonely. In some way, shape or form.

But Megan, you can't know for sure. You are not every person, are you? 

Be that as it may, I'm still quite certain in my theory. Allow me to elaborate.

That successful co-worker you see everyday. They're always well dressed and holding that cup of Starbucks. They have loads of photos of their family scattered about their office space. They smile and laugh a lot, sharing travel plans and family stories. Truly, they must be the epitome of happy. 

Not true.

What you don't know is that they struggle with a child with special needs. Or that they struggle with debt and money troubles. Or deal daily with emotional spousal abuse. 

That's not always the case, Megan. They could really have it together. They could really just be that happy. You can't know for sure.

Very true. I can't.

What about that friend you have? The one that's shy, quiet, but always gives of their time and heart to help you out with whatever you need. They rarely talks about themselves, instead they always talks about others, or asks about you. They give and give, having so much to give it seems.

Not true.

What you don't know is that they struggle with loneliness, and emptiness. They give and give of their time and resources to validate their own existence. They live vicariously through others because they're too scared to live outside of their safe zone. 

That's not always the case, Megan. They could really have it together. They could really just be that happy. You can't know for sure.

Very true. I can't.

Then there is that parent in the grocery store. Their baby sits in the car seat in the cart, sleeping quietly. Their cart is full, and they made it to the line in front of you. They wait patiently, humming as their items are scanned and totals added. 

Not true.

What you don't know is that they struggle with single parenthood. They live with their parents to make ends meet and be able to afford food. They struggle to juggle a baby and a job, feeling all alone in their endless nights. They're not sure how they'll ever change their circumstances and be able to provide fully for their child.

That's not always the case, Megan. Some they could really have it together. They could really just be that happy. You can't know for sure.

Very true. I can't.

But what I do know is that at some point in our day, we feel very very alone in our struggles. Whether it's in our workday, our home life, or our day-to-day activities. We feel alone somehow, some way. 

Sometimes, we miss our partner or parent. Sometimes we struggle with our jobs, or the lack there of. Sometimes we struggle with financial problems, or debt. Sometimes its depression, poor mental health, or physical limitations. Sometimes it's a lack of friends, or a lack of a partner. Sometimes it's illness, or the illness of others.

There is always something.

Everybody Hurts - REM

Well, that's depressing.

Yes, I know it is.

Why did you have to share it then? Why are you talking about it like this?

Because it needs to be out there. In the open. We need to admit to feeling this depressed. We need to admit that we don't always have the Perfect American Life. We don't have it together. We never do. No one is that perfect.

...

Except Jesus.

Well, yeah, but we're not Him. And we can't be. How is that comforting?

Because we can lead by example. We'll never be as perfect of him. But if one takes a close look at the lineage of Jesus in the Bible, you'll find that all the people there were not perfect either. They were prostitutes, tax collectors, adulters and adulteresses, sinners and poor people. The suffered with illness, depression, and being outcasts. Yet God still took each and every single one and used them for a more perfect purpose. Jesus. 

Good point. But what does that have to do with my current life woes?

Jesus was perfect. No one else in the bible was. They all sinned. Every single one of them. Before Jesus and after Jesus, all those names in the Bible were names of sinners. Jesus was a turn around point in our lives and our salvation, but not a whole lot changed in the big picture.

Isn't that a bit sacrilegious? And how is that a comfort?

It may be sacrilegious to say so, but it's also the truth. But here's the comfort: Jesus still used those imperfect people in the same imperfect world.

Yes, I know. For the lineage of Jesus.

No. For the lives that continued on after His death. For the people left in the imperfect world that has been turned around by Jesus. We still had the imperfectness, but now there was perfect salvation. Those imperfect people were changed by Him, by His time on earth. And they taught their neighbours the importance of Jesus. And those people taught their friends and neighbours. And so on. And many generations later, here we are.

Yeah. Here we are. Still imperfect, in case you hadn't noticed. 

Oh, I noticed. I'm one of them, too. But Jesus still uses me. He uses me to teach others that it's okay to be imperfect. Through me, Jesus teaches those that don't know Him that they really do need to know Him. He teaches that we're all loved for our imperfectness, not for our perfectness. And yet, even though we have that imperfectness, He still uses us. Every day. In every way. In most ways that we'll never truly know. Every day, He is using us as an example.

You're not helping the weight on my shoulders, you know. If anything, you're only adding to it. Now, on top of struggling alone and imperfect, I'm also expected to be God's example with that struggling and imperfectness. Exactly how much failure do I need to see in my life today?

None. Not a single bit. Jesus doesn't see that loneliness in struggles as failure. He sees it as opportunity. He sees it as a chance to connect you with the resources to take away your pain, and by your example, help those around you that still struggle. All we need to do is admit that we have that loneliness, and Jesus takes it away. He gives partners to love, friends to treasure, families to adore, and stability to grasp. All we must do is put our troubles in His big hands, and leave it there. Then He says, "I got this, little one. You need not carry that loneliness any more."

But what if that loneliness doesn't leave? What if he doesn't take away the strugglign?

He always does. He always does. We just need to truly let go and allow God to change that loneliness. 

But even if I let him heal that loneliness, I'm still imperfect. I'm still a failure.

Never. Jesus never uses us for failures. Failures are something we hold in our eyes. That failed interview. That failed marriage counselling. That failed debt consolidation plan. That failed child's party. We see failures because we chose to view them as failures. For Jesus, a failed interview is because that's not a job where He can use you. Failed marriage counselling was so that you could move onto someone else. Failed finances was so that you could learn to appreciate money and use it well next time. Failed children's expectations are to teach them valuable life lessons that can't be taught in any other way. 

So for Jesus, crying children and dying puppies are successes?

Not exactly. Jesus never gives us struggles we cannot handle. We're given these failures to realize that we need to do better for Him. And to keep Him as our focus. These failures teach us to lead better, to act wisely, and to trust wholly in our God. Hurts give way to bigger plans, better things, and happier times. We just can't see that because we're not quiet up the mountain to the sunset yet. 

You see, none of us are failures. None of us are perfect. We simply are Jesus' children, doing the best we can with His help, waiting until He takes us home to eternal life in heaven.

So I don't have to be lonely. And I'm not a failure.

No, you don't. And no, you're not.

And I just need Jesus?

Just Jesus. 

That seems so... easy.

Ah, but nothing in this life comes easy, does it? Jesus does ask for something in return.

I knew it! What is it now? Mortgage my house again?

No. Simply this:

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”He answered: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.' "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." 

(Luke 10: 25-27)

You see, its quite simple. Love the Lord your God. Wholly. Entirely. Completely. With your heart, soul and mind. And love your neighbour as you love yourself. That happy co-worker, the shy friend, or the single parent. Love them as you would yourself.

Doesn't seem like a tall order.

You'd be surprised. Sometimes we get caught up in our own world, that we forget that we're not alone on this planet.

Hence the imperfect part, right?

You bet. And yet we're still loved. We're no longer lonely. We're not longer imperfect to all. As such, we have such peace that we can only share with others in hopes of sharing in that peace and love with them. 

Are you lonely? Are you imperfect? 

Come join the club. Club Jesus. It's a hard life, but the benefits are amazing.

xo <3 p="">

News Flash #6

I owe the motor vehicle-utilizing world an apology.

I'm sorry!

Let me explain....

I love to drive. My little car and I have had some good times together. My car is nicknamed The Precious. The Precious is a spiffy little orange '06 Chevy Cobalt. She gets great mileage, and I haven't had put much money into maintaining The Precious. She's been good to me, because I have been good to her.

We've taken many a road trip together too. To see family, friends, and new sites. She's taken me to job interviews, parties, and celebrations. I've taken her to gas stations, car washes, and garages. We've been good to each other.

So, I need to apologize. My car and I have committed a big no-no.

We sing. Loudly. To the radio, the CD, or whatever comes to our minds. There is obnoxious singing faces, bizarre actions, and obscure dance moves.

So to everyone on the 401 who sees me and The Precious rocking out on our travels...

We're sorry...

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Notttttttttttt really, actually. It's too much fun to stop. And for that we're sorry. Really.

xo <3 p="p">

Sniff?

Close your mouth and suck a lung of air in through your nose. Now exhale through your mouth.

What did you smell?

I smell orange/cranberry candles, red wine, fabric softner, chocolate, and a dusty heater. Glorious.

It's funny how smells can trigger a mental image of loved ones, isn't it? A sniff of dropjes (black licorce) and cigarettes makes me instantly warm and happy as I think of my Opa. The smell of coffee and spiced chocolate cake makes me think of my Oma D. Channel No. 5 perfume makes me think of my mother, and the smell of leather makes me think of my Dad and his leather gloves. These are all smells that have been built into my memory from a young age, irrevocably reminding me of elders.

It's not just people that smells can connect to. The smell of turkey makes me think of Thanksgiving. The smell of pine trees triggers the memories of Christmas. The smell of salt in the air brings back memories of the ocean. The smell of smoke reminds me of the cottage and campfires.

There's also those super pleasant smells. Flowers, strawberries and trees. Lakes and moss. Coffee and freshly baked cookies. Apples, cinnamon and steak. Bacon frying! Cologne, fresh sheets, cut wood, new cars and lemons. Scents and smells like these are enough to make your toes wiggle and your spine shiver. Admit it: you can't help but smile at the thought of these scents, let alone smelling them yourself!

Of course, there is also those smells that make you wrinkle your nose and shudder. Skunk spray, or sulphur. Burnt toast or popcorn. Spoiled milk or cheese. Smelly feet. Rotting compost. A backed up well or toliet.... You can stop making that disgusted face now ;)

The sense of smell is a powerful and suggestive device to have in one's body. My nose can detect a skunk two kilometers, and fresh baked cookies at five kilometers away. No only does the nose affect one's mind and appetite, it also affects one's emotions. I can't count the number of times a scent tied to a lost loved one has brought me such warmth and yet sadness in the same moment. Likewise, those happy smells of those I still have with me bring a rush of happiness to which nothing can compare.

I do believe we take for granted all that we have in the human body. We are truly fearfully and wonderfully made. And yet we don't always know what our body can do until we lose that ability. Imagine not smelling the scent of your lover in bed next to you. Imagine not smelling that new baby smell of your newborn. Imagine not smelling the food cooking on your stove or the flowers in your garden. Do you not think your day would be less fulfilling if you couldn't smell and experience such wonderful scents that are around us?

I for one will take great advantage of my abilty to sense scents. Take a deep breath of winter air tomorrow morning, and feel your boogers freeze instantly!

xo <3 p="p">

Yep.

Irony...you cruel witch

Have you ever stopped and realized, to your horror, that the following sayings are true?

1) Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people;

2) Only the good die young; and,

3) No matter how hard you try to make your own happiness, it doesn't work. Happiness just seems appear on it's own, when you least expect it.

Perhaps, this post should not be titled 'Irony... you cruel witch', but instead be arranged something more like 'Life... you cruel witch.' Because it is true: life, in all her pleasantries and horrors, can be a cold heartless wench.

At this point, some people will point out that not everything ends that way, not everyone turns out that way, and there's always a stupid silver lining. But I do believe that some people have seen too many Hollywood romances to really understand that sometimes, the guy doesn't get the girl, the adorable dog dies, and not every prince and princess ride off into the sunset. Life just isn't like that.

Now, I'm not trying to be depressive or pessimistic. I'm just making a point: not everything in everyone's life is roses.

But that doesn't mean we can't change it.

I truly believe that if we want something to be different, we have the power to change it. Through patience, a bit of hard work, and more patience, we can make our own happiness... by know when to stop trying and just wait for it to happen.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking: Easier said than done. No kidding. No one, especially me, said it would be easy. Relinquishing control and just letting it ride is hard. You're afraid that life is going to gallop out from underneath you. But hey, you still got the reins. You're just not yanking on them every five seconds.

I say all this because, well, I should really be doing just that.

So by writing it down, I'm hoping I can get it through my thick skull.

xo <3

My Father's Shop

This is a continuation from the blog post from years back, titled 'My Mother's Kitchen'.

Before my family moved to a new, larger home four years ago, we lived in a small semi-detached house in the north end of town. It wasn't very big, maybe 1300 square feet. 3 bedrooms, 1 bath (It was a long 17 years), a kitchen, dining room, and living room. However, our basement set us apart from our neighbors.

When we first moved in, the basement was renovated to have a laundry room, a pantry, and a full apartment. The apartment was rented out to students who attended the college/university in our town. It had a bedroom, another bathroom, a sitting area, and a very small kitchenette. When we stopped renting it out, it became a play room and a spare bedroom.

Tucked into a wall of the small hallway from the stairs to the laundry room is my dad's work shop. It was really more of a bench. It had a wide wooden counter for the vise grip, various pieces of wood and metal; a peg board with hooks for wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers and tape; and cupboards/drawers beneath the counter that held old paint cans, rags, and drill bits.

Inevitably, there was saw dust and wood scraps littered on the hallway floor. Pieces of metal pipes, nails and screws litter the top counter, along with busted doorknobs, broken necklaces, abused toys, borked appliances and malfunctioning electronics. Some objects sat there for a long time, waiting for repair pieces; other objects didn't linger there long, as they were quickly repaired by my dad.

My dad's dad was a auto-body specialist. He opened a joint business with a friend. It still runs to this day, under the efficient management of my uncles. In high school and between courses at university, my dad worked with him in the shop. Every time I'm in town, I visit the shop, see my roots and heritage.

I'm pretty sure that he picked up his tool-savvy and careful repair skills from his days in the shop with his dad. Anytime something does not work, it goes down to the workshop.

Now, however, the workshop has expanded. When we moved, dad's workshop became a whole room. The same bench traveled from one house to the other; and was it ever a job of moving that thing! There is now a counter, a few wall cupboards, a bookshelf, rolls of carpet and bags of bedding, and scrap pieces of wood. Whenever something is broken, or when we needed to make something for a school project, we inevitably troop down to the work bench for glue, wood, hammers, nails, and wire.

The workbench isn't needed for every repair. When my computer becomes finicky, when the DVD player skips, when the car needs washer fluid, it's not the workbench I visit first. It's Dad. Dad is the Fix-It-Man. Always. Even if we weren't sure the item was fixable or out of dad's knowledge (rarely possible), we'd go to him. He'd study it, ask questions about what happened, question what we'd already tried to fix it, fiddle with the various pieces or buttons, and then give the official ruling of "Yep, we can fix it" or "Sorry, sweetie, it's done".

Regardless of the answer, Dad would come with me and fix it, or he would look online at new/improved pieces. In situations of broken objects that come with broken hearts, Dad is always comfort when there is panic, reassurance where there is uncertainty, and calm peace where there is fear and doubt. Dad is the constant through broken walk-mans, busted favourite electronic games, and dying computers. He's always there, always up to the Fix-It challenge, and always supportive when things take a turn for the worst.

Thanks Dad. For being there for everything from broken toys to broken hearts. The one man I will always depend on for everything. I love you.

xo <3

Oh hi, this blog thingy is still here...

So, I realize that, yes, I have forgotten about this blog. I apologize.

Sometimes, life happens. And you just can't do a damn thing about it.

So what has changed on my end? Relationships, friendships, and work. Shit loads of work.

How about you? How's things? ;)

I've really been meaning to reopen this blog: let the creative juices flow and release the inner muse; find myself again and yet lose myself again in deep thought and endless speculation.

On top of that, I'm pretty sure without writing something down regularly, my emotions have become clogged; a very big mess in the area that is my heart, soul, and brain. I mean, that is what this blog was supposed to be all about for me. "Some days you are blue like the bottom of the sea. And other days, you're streaking across the sky like the sun. For every other day, there is this..."

Seriously, we're talking about that mess you get when you pull all the tape out of a cassette and try to put it back in. Nearly freakin' impossible to restore. Nearly.

So although August is no time for New Year's Resolutions, I'm resolving to get my blogger rear in gear and put SOMETHING up here in the next couple months.

So keep watching. I promise not to disappoint ;)

xo <3

I need a million copies of this image for several coworkers, family members, and friends...