Two Lenses

You know those people?  The ones who just hold to an opinion or point of view because that's just what they think or believe and there ain't no way 'round it?  The ones who are usually wrong?

Yeah.  Those ones.  I don't understand them.

I mean.. well, not that I can't exactly.  I can sometimes comprehend what caused them to think that way.  Perhaps they were exposed to information or experiences that caused that opinion.  But things have changed now.  Situations have gotten better, or disappeared, or what have you.  Now, it's time for them to change, too.

I blogged about my wrongful opinion of buses about a month ago.  Relevant, yes... but now I'm moving on to something bigger.  Something better.  Something a lot more important.

People.

I have this one friend.. at least, I think we're friends right now.  I haven't talked to her much, but the last time I saw her we seemed to be on good terms.  However, as far as I could perceive, that wasn't always true.  I've known her for I'd say a good four or five years, and every so often something would happen... a word or look directed at me that would just have "I don't like you" written all over it.  I don't know why.  I've searched my brain for a reason, but I can't recall anything I've done.  I just get that impression that she dislikes me - and I have no idea why.

I have some other people I know who I've heard say similar things.. "I don't like so and so." "Why not?"  "I don't know, I just don't."

I know I also blogged on this once before.. but I was focusing then on the way that the disliked people feel when they are shunned for no good reason.  Tonight, I'm on the other side of the line... if you don't have a reason, why are you continuing to shun people?

As far as I'm concerned, it's all about changing yourself.  Changing your own opinion.

Even if you have a reason.  Things don't always change, but that doesn't mean they can't.

Good example:  fight between friends.  Regardless of the reason, they no longer like each other.  Both feel wronged, angry, hurt.  However, what happens if a little time passes, some thoughts enter one of their heads, and they decide that they're going to apologize for their end of the argument?  Or some new information comes to light, and things turn out to be considerably different?

What if someone tries to make it right, but the other persists in disliking them, and rejects their advances toward repairing and rebuilding the relationship? 

My own personal example:

When I was younger, I had a substitute teacher for one of my elective classes.  She was younger and although great at what she teaching, as far as I know wasn't an actual teacher.  That doesn't matter so much.  What does matter is that one class, I got there just in time for it to start, according to the school's clock.  However, said teacher pulled out her cell phone and said, "You're late."  My friend looked at her watch, and according to it, I was early.  I tried to explain that the clock in the school, as opposed to the one in the room in the church we were using, said I was on time, as did my friend's watch.  I probably wasn't as polite as I could've been, but I generally try to be respectful, and I remember being angry but trying to communicate without being rude.  However, according to Teacher, I was late and therefore was punished with lines. 

I was furious. I moved to the corner of the room, finished writing them out, and stretched by myself - refusing to rejoin when I was asked to; not until I was ready.  Although, I don't think I was ready.  I think I just sucked it up and did it.

I never did like that girl again.  She was quite young, early 20's.  I never saw her for years, but whenever someone mentioned her name (she was an attendee of my church and quite popular among some of the older students and graduates of my school), I felt a repugnant shudder course through my body and streams of hate burst forth; that one incedent ruined any relationship we might've had.

Years later, I meet a guy in my Bible school class. He seems pretty cool, and although it takes a little while to get him to talk, we strike up a friendship.  Imagine my dismay, then, when I find out he's married to that woman.  THE woman.  That young woman that gave me punishment I felt I didn't deserve.  That woman I disliked probably more than anyone else.

Great.

However, he was cool, suave, chill.  I learned that they were fairly newly married.  I was confused, but I didn't tell anyone.  How could someone who was that cool marry someone like her?  Believe me, I thought about it a LOT.  The idea slowly presented itself to me.  She couldn't possibly be as terrible as all that, if this man I respected liked her, LOVED her, enough to marry her.

Fine.  Maybe I was wrong.. she probably wasn't the witch I'd made her out to be in my own mind.  I could handle that idea.. it didn't matter anyways, since I never saw her and didn't expect to.

Guess what.  Wrong there, too.  Who do you think was the person selected to teach us our drama for Africa?  Horrible-memory-teacher-lady.  Yeah.

However, I'd hope to say that I've grown and matured some in almost ten years.  So, even though those disturbing feelings returned, I bit my tongue and made the effort to get to know her.  Nobody else I knew disliked her.. she was friends with people I knew, and again, this dude I considered an older brother, wise, energetic, helpful, kind.. married her. 

I had to change.  And you know, I was right.

She isn't a witch. 

I will admit that I can see traces of what made me dislike her that day, so long ago.  However, if I choose to look at her as a friend instead of an enemy, they really are insignificant.  There's a pretty decent age gap between us, so I've had a bit of a challenge in getting to know her.  I'm still trying to set up a time to hang out with her and her husband, because I don't want to lose the friendship with the one, and I want to finish that cycle of rebuilding an opinion with the other.  I want to fully and finally prove to myself that first impressions aren't always correct.

What would it take for you?  Is there someone you just can't stand, or simply tolerate because you have the same circle of friends?  Would changing your perspective... looking for something in common with that person... pointing out their positive traits... would that maybe gain you a friend you never thought you had?

Maybe it would even make life better for other people in your life.. nobody likes those awkward situations where two people who would rather not be in the same room get invited to a party or something similar.

Maybe you can be the bigger person today.  Maybe you can change your world by changing the way you look at it.  Pick someone.  Now go try.

Double Sided and Dual Minded

The past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot about duplicity.  It started.. well, I'm not too sure how it started, actually; the thought came to a head when I went to update my other blog the second time.  (Didn't know I have a second blog?  Check it out: http://www.onionsandotherthoughts.tumblr.com/ )

This second blog was fairly recent in starting, and I update it much less regularly.  It has a different purpose than this, and I have separated them entirely because of it.  The other blog is comprised of quotes and passages that have made me think or mean a lot to me; it's got a different layout, different material, and a different webhost altogether. 

This thought, duplicity, came to me, as I said, when I went to update Blog 2 a second time.  I'm not too familiar with Tumblr on the whole, and I was having issues figuring out how to customize the look of the page, etc.  Onions was beautifully color-coordinated (have you ever noticed it's roughly the color of onions?), the posts were nicely separated by title and easy to access, etc.  The other was a bland, basic white page, with black words down the middle.  Squished together and running into each other.

I felt like I was living two different lives when I saw this.

Imagine with me that someone visits this page, Onions, that you are currently reading.  They don't know me at all, but they see a page built by someone who seems to be well known to the world of Blogger and posts often.  There are comments throughout, posting thoughtful responses to thoughtful articles.  (At least, I think they're thoughtful.. they take a lot of thinking through for me before I sufficiently know what my opinion is before I post it!)

Then, they somehow stumble, through a link on Facebook or something, onto the other Blog, Other Thoughts.  While still having some good content, this person's opinion of the writer of both has just dropped a few points, because while Onions is well laid out and easy to navigate, this page, Other Thoughts, is devoid of color, personality, and any medium of organization.  It's like I'm putting up a front on Onions, whilst Other Thoughts reveals the reality of a slovenly and roguish person who doesn't care enough to fix up the page that people don't visit as often.

That may not be true, but that's how I feel.  Even after learning a bit about how Tumblr works, and changing my theme and appearance, the page still looks terrible to me in comparison with this.  I feel like I'm somehow living a lie, one that I've created.

I know it seems ridiculous - but then again, does it?  A blog might not be so crucial to your opinion of me, but it's not the only example of dual mindedness I've recognized in the past weeks.  Two others, very common, have struck their notes in my sheet of music.

The first is that of the workplace.  I posted a few weeks ago about how one of my coworkers may have left his family.  Turns out it's true.  He's reminded me of that on days when I'm not smiling and seem to be down, or just not the usual happy-go-lucky personage I've displayed for them.  He's told me, "I don't know who I'm seeing... this is not Ashleigh."  We've had a few conversations about leaving our outside life baggage at the door when we come to work.

In a way, it's true.  The Ashleigh that strides through the door nowadays is not the same Ashleigh that did when I first started - but it's also true that I really have nothing to leave at the door.  It simply is that the novelty has worn off for me.  I still like my job and I love the people at work, but I'm just not as excited to go anymore, and it takes more effort to find something to make my day as enjoyable and exciting as it was before.  It doesn't come as often, and for that reason, they don't see the me they used to see nearly as much.

Second example is that of Christmas itself.  I'm sure you yourself are a little more stressed out about gifts, money, family plans, and all the other details of the holiday season than you probably let on.  It is our habitual cultural norm to smile through clenched teeth when asked if we're looking forward to Christmas and say, "Why, of course! Who isn't?"  You may actually be looking forward to it, and I hope you are, but Christmas is never simple enough to allow for the stress free answer that the television paints as reality. 

When Christmas finally does come, so do the subtle untruths about gifts received that really don't do much for you, but you can't offend the giver.  Or that family member you're upset with and have to pretend you're their best friend when seated beside them at the Christmas dinner table.  Or traditions that clash, because half the family doesn't believe in Christ, or opens their gifts before breakfast as opposed to after. 

I'm aware that this isn't Christmas for everyone, but I'd be willing to bet that it is, at least partially, for more than just two or three.  If this isn't you, you are blessed - give thanks. :) For the rest of us.. what can we do about it?  That's what I've been wondering.

These are my thoughts.  What counts as duplicity - and when is it okay?  There are moments where we have to withhold our opinions, to fake it until we make it, whether it be Christmas, a barbeque at the boss' house.. we all have times where it just won't do to say what we're really thinking.  But some days are embossed in shades of grey.  What draws the line?  When it is safe to really be the people we feel like?  If we don't, does it mean we're lying, scheming, underhanded ruffians; or are we just trying to save face - both ours and others'?

Will it change your opinion of me to find out that I have a second blog that isn't as pretty as this one?

I don't know.  Tough questions usually require even more difficult answers. 

Patience Is Practiced

Twenty seven minutes. 

That's the length of time that must transpire before my life changes permanently.  It's not really a big change, but at the same time, it's a huge change.

I am celebrating my twentieth birthday in twenty seven minutes.  Actually, make that twenty four, now.

For my birthday, there is a card in a washed-out peach color sitting upon my bookshelf.  It catches my attention every time I look at the shelf, which means every time I enter my bedroom; the light, solid peach contrasts starkly against the blackened plastic covering of the particle boards from which my shelf is constructed.

On this envelope, there is writing.  My name, on the one side.  Ashleigh LaPlante.  (Note, in passing, that my family usually does not capitalize the 'P' in my last name.)  On the other, written on the edge of the triangle piece that opens the envelope, is written, "Do not open until Dec. 12th. :P " 

This envelope has been occupying its space on my shelf for four days.  Likewise, for four days I have been tempted, sometimes sorely as the day grows ever closer, to open it.  I am quite sure it contains a birthday card; the question is, from whom?

I have my theories, but nothing is proven because the envelope remains unopened.  I was telling my brother about it, and how excited I was to see the contents, and he suggested I just run downstairs and open it.  Which I have thought about more than once.

But what should that tell about me?  That I had not the patience to wait until the designated day, that I did not respect the wishes of the sender, whomever they may be?

I thought long and hard about why I wasn't opening it, and this is what conclusion I've come to.  If I open this envelope, I have let my impatience overpower me.  I have let a piece of paper dictate what I will do and when, because I couldn't stand to wait just a few days. 

That is intolerable.

If I can't force myself to wait four days to open an envelope, what will happen in the future, when something comes along that I must exercise patience for?  What if an opportunity presents itself, but because I haven't practiced patience and been faithful in the small things, I am not in the large?  What happens if I lose said opportunity because I did something too fast, if the situation changes because I chose not to wait? 

No.  I am not one to allow a mere envelope to control me, to defeat my willpower.  Better I practice now, with something small.  Although important to me now, and exciting, it is relatively insignificant in the large scheme of my life, if you understand me.  I will wait.  I will be faithful in the small, so I can also be faithful in the larger. 

After all, it's only eight minutes now.

Misconceptions

This may sound rather bigoted of me.  As a fair warning, I expect as much.  However, that's what this is about, so let's just barge ahead and roll with it.

Last week, I began taking the bus home from work (at the University, UBCO).  Before that, my parents were picking me up. 

Before that, I had an opinion on the bus. 

I thought buses were dirty, despicable things; vehicles to be used only by what I considered city 'slum dwellers' for lack of a better term...  people who couldn't afford a car, could barely afford a house, and had no other means of transport for traveling distances longer than walkable.

I had a picture, (in my defense, partially brought on by news stories about bus travellers) of creepy people who hadn't bathed in days, and ignored by and ignorant of the people surrounding them; tuned into music, absorbed in their books, asleep - people you generally wouldn't want to talk to.  Not respectable, hardworking, regular folks.

Even buses themselves didn't escape my judgment.  In my head, they were simply an effort by the city to help clear up congestion and give poorer people an alternative to walking.  Hardly ever cleaned (who sees a bus that doesn't have mud and dust all over it when it's owned by the city?), inside or out.. to me, they were little better than filthy deathtraps filled to the brim with society's less than privileged classes.

Don't ask me where I got this image.  As I said, it's been partially instilled from news articles, but I can't blame it all all those.  Before last week, I'd only ever been on a bus twice that I can remember, so experience wasn't to count for it.. although stories from friends and aquaintances who were experienced busers certainly helped fuel the fire.

Regardless, given my beastly preconception of what a bus was and what kind of people partook of their services, I was naturally in for a rude awakening. 

I was terrified the first time I rode it home.. and I turned into one of those people I abhorred in my thoughts.  Staring at my cell phone as I surfed Facebook with it, refusing to look up and make eye contact with anyone, and desperately wishing for the ride to be over, I cowered and I'm sure everyone noticed.  Luckily for me, I had unknowingly sat beside a coworker, and she deigned to speak to me, even though I was ignoring her (and everyone else) as hard as I could.  Nothing has ever been so welcome in my life as the realization that I wasn't alone on this horrible bus on this terrible first day. 

She readily answered all my bus-related questions and showed me how to make sure I got off at the right stop; in hindsight, as many of you probably know, it's not very hard.  To one as frightened and uncomfortable as myself at that moment, though, it was as if a golden nugget had been presented to me. 

I've now been riding the bus home for nearly two weeks.  You have probably already seen that my perception of public transport has changed, and changed drastically.  Firstly, the bus is not a germ-breeding ground.  Although not as clean and comfortable as a personal vehicle (which would be nearly impossible) it is as clean as one could expect a large vehicle to be when hundreds of people get in and out every day and it travels all over the city.

I have met some interesting individuals, but none I'd consider especially weird or scary.  I was duly surprised to see a woman dressed in a business suit and heels board the bus the other day.  The piece of information that smacked me straight up in the face?  People don't always use the bus because they have to, and they're not all poor and uneducated social outcasts.  There's no parking at the university.. 2,500 spaces and 7,000+ students, faculty, and staff.  Many of them are, like me, just trying to save money in parking passes and subsequent tickets because the passes are sold out.  You probably just noticed the italics.  Like me.  That was the clincher. 

I am not a uneducated, disheveled social outcast, and I'm riding the bus.  That must mean that there are others who also aren't city gypsies, and simply find the bus a better option.

See?  Told you this might be considered bigoted.  But I'm not arrogant enough to refrain from admitting it.

I was wrong.

In so many ways.  The worst of which being that I formed an opinion of something that really had little basis in fact, and a lot more in hearsay and imagination. 

Do you have a similar picture in your head of something?  A conception that you really haven't checked out, a something that you don't like, but don't really have good reasons to answer that question, "Why?"

I challenge you to challenge yourself to change the way you think about the world you don't know.  You might be just as surprised, and just as wrong, as I was.

Conflict Resolution.

Conflict.


con·flict   /v. kənˈflɪkt; n. ˈkɒnflɪkt/



[v. kuhn-flikt; n. kon-flikt]


–verb (used without object)


1. to come into collision or disagreement; be contradictory, at variance, or in opposition; clash



2. to fight or contend; do battle.
 
Conflict.
 
It drives us.  It hurts us.  It builds us.  It destroys us.  It teaches us.  It breaks us.  It makes us. 
Without conflict, our skin remains pasty and weak; the muscles of the brain are decrepit from want of use.  Skills vital to continued and successful life are passed by; we learn not the importance of teamwork, problem solving, conflict resolution.

Conflict.  Resolution.

Resolution.

res·o·lu·tion   /ˌrɛzəˈluʃən/


[rez-uh-loo-shuhn]
–noun

1. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.


2. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.

3. a solution, accommodation, or settling of a problem, controversy, etc.
 
Resolution.
 
It heals us.  It strengthens us.  It reconciles us. 
Conflict and resolution are linked - but conflict brings what resolution is not capable of - negativity.
 
I had my own opportunity to practice my skills at conflict resolution this week.  A friend of mine texted me about my birthday and said some things about my idea I didn't appreciate.  So I facebooked back with this message (word for word, nothing edited):
 
Hey.
I just wanted to let you know that I am feeling angry about the way you spoke to me over texting earlier today. I don't understand what made you do so, but I don't think it was necessary and I feel very disrespected, and I don't feel I did anything to deserve being treated like that.
Perhaps we had a misunderstanding. Could you explain to me what you were thinking?
 
Friend turned around and emailed me back with an apology and an explanation:
 
I'm sorry. I just think its kinda dumb inviting people like my dad and all the people on cheer. Those are my thoughts though. I dont really want to go if tons of people are going to.
 
I replied and explained why I made the plans I did, and invited so many people.  To cut a long email short, I gave him three basic reasons.
 
1) I chose to go skiing because I love the outdoors, and because I don't care much for regular parties or dinner outings as forms of celebrating.
2) An open invite was a good way to ensure I didn't miss any of my friends, and gave them equal opportunity to see me, or to request a different time to get together.
3) An open invite also allows people who know me, but don't know many other people who may be there, to bring a friend if they should so choose.  As well, by going skiing (where people naturally  break up into smaller groups on trail), the situation is less awkward and stressful and more inviting for new aquaintances, and possibly friendships, to start. 
 
He replied with a very simple and adequate, "I understand :D."
 
Yes.  Point for conflict resolution.  Which, in a word, is communication.
 
Communication.
 
com·mu·ni·ca·tion   /kəˌmyunɪˈkeɪʃən/
[kuh-myoo-ni-key-shuhn]
–noun


1. the act or process of communicating; fact of being communicated.


2. the imparting or interchange of thoughts, opinions, or information by speech, writing, or signs.


3. something imparted, interchanged, or transmitted
 
The only way to solve a problem is to communicate - to share thoughts, opinions, and information.  To know what others are thinking, and feeling, and why.  To let them know what you're thinking, and feeling, and why.
As I quoted to another friend this evening, "Understanding breeds empathy."  And a resolved conflict.  Or, at the very least, it starts you on the road to resolution.
 
So practice up.

Musings From A Fruit Fly

On Monday, at work, I was sitting down to my lunch in a small recess in the hallway, containing the elevator access, some lockers, and another door leading to a stairwell.  As I do every day, I sat by the lockers, facing the hallway, back against the wall.  I sit here, alone, for half an hour, because I relish the relative quiet it offers, as opposed to sitting and eating with the student population.

However, on Monday, it wasn't quite as peaceful as normal.  There was a very aggravating fruit fly that was grating on my nerves.. which already happened to be stressed.  It buzzed and flew around, but didn't leave.  It could smell the apple core, recently abandoned on the floor with the other trash from my lunch, to be disposed of when I was finished... and it evidently wanted it as much as I wanted the fly to leave.

I raised my hands into the classic hand-clap position to kill the miniature annoyance - and then paused.  The question flashed through my brain and seemed to cut to my very soul: "What right to you have to take life, even if only an insect's?"  It occurred to me that even though I knew the layout of the niche in the wall we were currently sharing and well beyond it, that fly's entire worldview was comprised of the few centimeters in front of its pin-prick sized eyes.  I remembered that although it knew there was food near, it hadn't any idea where, and was simply doing its fly-like best to find the thing that would give it sustenance. 

The longer I sat and thought, the more I felt like I knew exactly how that little fruit fly felt.  It was lost in its world, with nothing to guide it except a smell - one small hint, one small nudge in the right direction, to help it find its way amongst the huge airspace it was trying to navigate.

Likewise, I felt lost.  Earlier that morning, the fellow who trained me when I was first hired came in to help me 'catch up'..  and he proceeded to tell me how I should be doing things, what was taking too long when I did it, and pointing out things I was missing.  He was nice about it, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn't ever been there before.  In the space of 15 minutes, he managed to reduce me to tears (I didn't cry, but my eyes watered when he left).  He had made some good points, shown me some things I didn't know.. but I was also upset because I felt he was in the wrong in some ways.  For example, the pace he set for loading and washing I feel to be much too quick, because the attention to detail is lost in the process, and in the six or seven racks of dishes he washed, I had to redo about 60-70% because they weren't clean to standard.  I pointed out the first two or three things, and he simply said, "Rinse them off and throw them through again."  I was dismayed and rather distressed about this method.  To me, it makes more sense to go through a bit more slowly and make sure it's done right the first time.  He has a small daughter, aged three and a half, and I felt like saying, "You wouldn't want to give your daughter a bath, but do it so quickly you had to bathe her again directly afterward."  Obviously I didn't, but I was very unsettled as to how I should do things (do it his way, or keep going with mine), and as I said, I was upset. 

As is my custom, I didn't react right away.. I like to think about things, and try to gain insight from as many angles as possible before I offer advice or make a decision.  So, when lunch came, I went out to my little corner and met the small fly that changed me.

Tuesday came.  I found out that the same fellow had moved Sunday, into a house a little over two blocks away from me - and had possibly left behind his common-law wife and small daughter.  I didn't know that Monday, but hearing it on Tuesday made me glad that I didn't speak what I wanted to.  Obviously he was under a lot of stress, and even though he tried to be nice and for the most part succeeded, I felt that frusteration with other situations in his life in his voice as he spoke to me. 

After he told me that, I thought a lot more about that little fly.  About how it only saw a very small percentage of the big picture.  I knew how to get to the apple core, but to him, it was miles away and presented a huge challenge.  Likewise, with my coworker, all I saw was a portion of the whole on Monday.. but I learned more on Tuesday. 

It's like life.  I have the opportunity to go to Europe in March, but it would mean collecting and spending $3,500.  I want to go to Europe; I also want to go to school.  I can't see the big picture of my future, but I know that the nudge in the right direction is there.  I've decided to save the money for school - to me, that's more important and will open more opportunities.. maybe even a trip to Italy and Greece, to see the great landmarks of society past.  Maybe I'll be presented with a different opportunity to see more and go for a longer time.  Who knows?  Certainly not I.  However, I do know that every day I live will reveal a little more of that henceforth hidden painting titled, "My Life".  I just have to keep trying, like the fruitfly, and not let the crushing hands of life's challenges crumple me - or my drive.

You have a life painting, too.  Nobody can see the entire picture.  Someday, however, it will become clear.  Someday, you'll come to a point and just know that this is why you're alive, that this is why you've lived your life, this is what your purpose is.  You'll only reach it, though, if you live like a fruitfly.

(And in case you're wondering, I compromised on my technique at work, incorporating some new things, and keeping some old.  So far, I'm going faster AND the dishes are clean :) )

The History Of Us. Onions. Me.

I have a confession to make.  Sometimes, I hate this blog.

Not all the time, though.  Usually, we get along just fine.  Sometimes, though, like tonight.. I don't have anything that I feel super passionate about to blog on.  Sometimes, like tonight, I forget to blog at all.  Those two reasons are why the blog is late half the time.. my goal is to publish every Saturday and Wednesday.  And I feel like I've failed to some degree if I don't get them done by those days, even if there's a good reason.  Which makes me dislike it more.

I feel like I'm bound to this blog, as a prisoner is chained to the next man in line.  I can't get away from it.  Sometimes, it's good to have the help and conversation the person beside you can give, but when you see that person every day, sometimes enough is enough.

Many of you don't even know why this blog originated.  I thought that you might be interested in that story, since I'm more than three months into this journey of writing.  I also figure you're probably wondering why I still write it if I'm not loving it all the time anymore.. I plan to explain that, too.

I was in Bible School last year.  Our final assignment was a project that incorporated a goodly percentage of all that we'd learned through the year, especially the information imbued upon us in a class called Research Methods. 

For my final assignment, I wrote a story, called Forgiving Jack.  It's a short story, written about an uncle's perspective on the effects on his young nephew of his parents' divorce.  Our project was marked by the dean of the school and one of the church's pastors.  Both judges gave each presentor a mark based on how well they implemented their gained knowledge into the project (projects ranged from a painting, to my story, to mock leadership retreats, to Bible studies, to essays), as well as creativity and content; they also offered ciriticism and praise to each presentor after they'd been up.

I had printed out copies and distributed them previous to the class I was scheduled, and asked them to read it and think about some discussion questions I had written out.  During my presentation, which I formatted after a high school English short story discussion class, we talked about the questions and my own experiences with divorce, as well as advice given and received, and conversations I'd with others.  After I was finished, the pastor (who usually went first) turned to the dean and said, "I'm gonna hand this one over to Trudy," and proceeded to say nothing else.  Trudy, rather caught on the spot, said some things about how mine was a little harder to mark because of its being a narrative, and how it was obvious that I had learned something but how it's hard to incorporate that into a story, but she liked it, etc.  Similar comments to what the others had received for their projects.

So I thought I wouldn't get any comments from Pastor Ed, but after Trudy was finished, he turns to me and starts talking.  I don't recall all that he said, but I remember him asking, "Do you enjoy writing?" To which I replied, "I feel like I was born to write."  Which isn't exactly true, but what is true is that I do enjoy writing more than any other form of communication save direct conversation, and that I do think I'm decent at it.  He said he thinks I write well, and the conversation ended with him telling me, "This is what I think you should do.  Start a website, and put your story on it.  Get it out there, because I think there's power in this to heal people."  He told me to go talk to the church's staff counselor and see what she thought and if she had any ideas.

Enter a momentary break in my thoughts here.  That scared the crap out of me.  I didn't say anything, but I was like, no, absolutely not, I didn't write this for the public, I wrote this for this class.  I don't want people asking me for advice.  I'm not doing it.  And I didn't.  After that class ended, I kept on with my life, getting ready to finish the school year and prepare for a trip to Africa.  But it didn't leave my mind.

I thought about it all summer, and didn't do anything till about halfway through.  Then, I finally made an appointment with the counselor, Linda.  She wasn't really sure what to tell me, but we talked and I told her what Pastor Ed said, and she gave me some ideas.  One of which was to blog.  Again, I walked away from that and did nothing right away... but it 'percolated', ideas slowly dripping into my brain as coffee does into the pot. 

One day, I was supposed to go see a movie with my brother..  and he ended up sick that night and I ended up going alone to a different movie.  Afterward, the emotions I felt and the things I was thinking provided the last push I needed, and when I got home, I finally decided to start this blog.

So there you have it.  Originally, this blog was going to be me sharing my stories and my experiences through divorce and how I've handled it and healed past hurts.  It turned into me blogging about all of life. 

As I've said, sometimes I hate it.  Sometimes I forget about it.  I can't really decide if I like having what is basically a public journal, more or less.  But I haven't quit.

I haven't quit for two reasons.  Firstly, because I miss writing.  This is good practice.  This keeps me accountable to produce something on a regular basis.  It's keeping me in literary shape, so to speak.  It's a challenge - to try to get my ideas across, to explain them in a way many people will understand.  Sometimes, just to have an idea at all.

The second reason is this.  Perhaps this is bigger than me.  Perhaps, in my weeks of avoiding this, I didn't forget about it for a reason.  Maybe I was meant to write that story, to get those people to tell me to do things I wasn't into doing when they told me, to start this for something I'm not aware of.  Or maybe I am.  How am I to know?  The thought that keeps me going more often than not is that maybe, this blog will change someone's life.

In turn, your comments mean the world to me.  They keep me motivated, and help me to know whether I'm on track with what I think about the world and life.  All of my Onions fans are so awesome, and it's such a blessing to know I have more than one regular reader.  You guys are so encouraging.  Thank you.

So my challenge to you today is to keep on.  Live your life the best you know how.  Accept challenges, new perspectives, and other ideas.  Learn from those who know more, and share what you know with others.  Because maybe, just as I might be changing lives without knowing it, so too may you be.

Centuries of Fire

This year, my family installed a new wood stove to aid in heating our house.  It's grand.  Fantastic.  Beautiful.  Most importantly, it's VERY VERY VERY WARM!

Last night, I was sitting in front of said wood stove, enjoying the fire, and texting my friend.  Turns out he was participating in a similarily warm and cozy activity, but with a rocking chair instead of the floor :P

It seemed rather... ironic doesn't feel right, but that's the closest I can come up with.. that we could be doing the same thing miles away from each other (he's in Alberta), but we're looking at the same thing, feeling the same heat, seeing the same colors, and so on and so forth.

Which got me thinking.  I'm currently reading Les Miserables (by Victor Hugo), which is set during the years after the French revolution and tumultuous periods of government proceeding and succeeding it.  In that book, there's a bit about a house some of the characters live in (Thernardiers), and how they are dirt poor, but because the room they rent has a fireplace, it goes for forty francs a year, even though it's dirt floors and broken walls.  The emphasis is placed on the possession of fire.

Fire has, since the day it was discovered, represented many things to mankind.  On the one hand, it is warmth, strength, family, love, safety, protection - but on the other, it is a destroyer, a danger, something to be feared.  As my text to my friend said, "How it has built us up, then destroyed us.. how it allows us to live, and then kills us."

These, then, were the foremost of my fiery thoughts.  However, as time and conversation progressed, and I again thought about how my friend and I were in the same position with huge distance between us, I thought about all the other people who have also, like me, sat and stared at a fire. 

People like Queen Elizabeth.  Robespierre.  David Thompson. Caesar Augustus.  William Shakespeare.  Jesus Christ. 

A hundred thousand faces from history flee through the mind in seconds.  Also, the millions who forever shall remain nameless to us... the victims of the Irish potato famine.  London's child workers.  African families.  Even the Okanagan's firestorm several years ago.

Millions of people, through thousands of years, all connected in a strangely tangled web of experience united by something common and familiar - flame.  High and low, white and black, rich and poor, every single person on this earth knows fire and has experienced it in some way.

So as I was sitting there thinking about this, a new thought struck.  What were they thinking about as they sat in the same place I am now?

I can't tell for sure, but I can certainly guess.  Maybe David Thompson was thinking about home, his family, and getting back there safely as he shivered in the snow of the American North, inching closer to the flames to keep warm.  Maybe Queen Elizabeth was staring at the fire, drinking a glass of wine and doing her best to weigh the options for dealing with her errant and troublesome cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots.  The children of Africa gaze at the flames and wish they had something to cook upon them.  Jesus peered at the crackling logs and prayed for the sacrifice he was called to give, and the race he was giving it for.

And I bet every one of those people thought about the past, present, and future as they sat.  I think about whether my children will have gas or electric heating or something entirely new and yet uninvented when they're adults.  I think about whether fire will ever be used to heat the home as time goes on.  I think about whether they will think about their ancestors and all the struggles hundreds of generations have had to overcome to be at the place we are now.

And I think about my own ancestors.  Whether they ever sat by the fire and thought about me, even though they didn't know my name, or who I would be, or what I would do.  I wonder if they ever prayed for their children's children and future generations.  I wonder what each generation sacrificed in turn, so the next would be happier and healthier; so their children would be able to live longer and better lives.

I am curious as to whether they would be happy with how I am living my life.  If they were able to look at see how I am handling my own situation, how I treat people, how I steward the earth I live on.  I wonder if they would ever see the things I get upset and complain about, and say, "Look, though - this is what I did for you.  I sailed across the ocean so you would have opportunity.  I built this house with my own hands so you would have somewhere to live.  I killed a man so you could live freely."

This is what fire has inspired in me.  This is what I've been thinking about.  All of the people who have stared into flames before me, and all of those who will after I die.  How much they've sacrificed, how far they came, so that I could have a better life. 

I think I owe it to them to live my life as they did. To be thankful for what I have, and to always try to do better.  To take opportunity, to educate myself, to change the world. 

If they hadn't done it, there's no telling where we'd be today.  If I, and others in this generation, don't take a stand, where will we be tomorrow?  Only the fire will know.

Verbs Mean Actions.

I'm subscribed to the "Thriving Family" magazine from Focus on the Family Canada.  I think it's the most beneficial thing I've ever signed up for.. I don't even remember how I ended up getting it, but I've been getting Focus on the Family Magazines and I think they ended the one issue and started the second.

Regardless, Thriving Family is chock full of funny stories, parenting advice and ideas, marriage articles, and everything else you'd expect to find in a family-oriented magazine - and it's good.  Highly recommended.  To anyone.

It's a bimonthly issue, and I received the Nov/Dec issue last week.  I was busy though, so I just read it today.  It's the Christmassy issue, full of ideas for helping to teach your kids about giving and sharing, and incorporating Christ into your Christmas traditions.

There's an article on staying in love after the honeymoon stage of marriage.. and although it's meant for couples, it's so good for everyone that I thought I would share some of it here.  I quote directly.

Make Love A Verb

For many of us, the concept of love is difficult  because we never learned the right form of love.  We focus on the external qualities of love and ignore the internal.  We treat love like a noun.  It's an experience that happened.  A moment.  A thing.

But in John 13:34, we see a different side of love.  John says, simply and honestly, "Love one another."  It is not a one-time event.  It is not a fireworks feeling or a field of flowers.  It's an action.  A verb.  It's not just about choosing the right person; it's about becoming the right person, the type of person who loves the way Christ loved us.

Pay Attention To Your Heart

Imagine you are a mug with thousands of tiny beads inside.  Each bead represents a negative feeling or painful experience or unfulfilled expectation.  You are careful to keep them inside.  Then you meet someone and think she just might be the future Mrs. Mug.  So, you are gentle and thoughtful around her.  You make certain that as few beads as possible spill out on the road to the alter.

But a month or a year later, suddenly there's an issue.  She gets upset for no apparent reason; or you don't call, though you said you would; or she feels ignored.  Your mugs bump into each other, jostling your beads.  Jealousy spills out.  Anger overflows.  All the stuff that was hidden during the courtship is on display.

This is the type of situation the Bible anticipates when it implores us to guard our hearts.  When your emotional 'beads' get bumped, stop and think about what you are feeling before you speak.  Name what you are feeling with specific words: "I feel jealous" or "I feel angry,"  When you name your feelings, they lose their power.  If appropriate, tell your spouse what's going on in your heart. Healthy people stop doing hutful things when they learn what the issues are.  And they stay in love by paying attention to their hearts.

-

There's more, but it deals more specifically with marriage.  The article ends, however, with a poignant phrase:

"It is possible to stay in love, but it does take more than fireworks and moonlit beaches.  Falling in love only requires a pulse.  Staying in love?  That requires a plan."

I think it's fairly clear how this can be applied in one's life, married or not.  Granted, marriage requires a lot of work... but that doesn't mean other relationships are cake walks.  If you focus on acting in love instead of feeling in love, your relationships are bound to strengthen.

Feelings are futile.  They are great indicators, but nothing more.  They can be overcome by willpower.  It happens every day... everyone gets up to go to work, or to school, and ignores the feelings of irritability and tiredness.  We don't hit people we're angry at.  People have more self control - they rule feelings.  As it said in the article, acknowledging feelings and taking control diminishes their power over us.

Actions, however, are physical.  It takes more effort to smile and greet someone you dislike than it does to just stifle the feeling and move on.  A plan shows effort.

I don't think I could say it any better than the article author does, although I just tried and pretty much failed.  But that doesn't matter - I think you get the picture, rambling aside.

I've heard often that love is a more than a feeling, and you probably have too - but it's good to be reminded.  And I don't think you could be reminded any better than the way those two points explain things.

So. Show it on the outside; wear it on your sleeve.  How will you act out your love this week?

"Do You See It?" "See What?" "A Sparkle."

My mother says my eyes sparkle when I'm happy.  She also says it's easy to tell when I'm not happy because the sparkle is gone.  I don't know if that's true or if it's just her perspective, but I suspect it is because other people have made similar comments.

For instance, one time in Bible School last year, I walked into class tired and grumpy.  I didn't really do anything different, I just said good morning to everyone (with a little less enthusiam than normally), and sat down to listen to my iPod.  It wasn't that I never did that... just not often, but it wasn't super abnormal.  At least not to me.  However, to the two boys in the back row, something wasn't aright.  The younger one looked at me and said, "What's wrong?" I, of course, said, "Nothing."  He came right back with, "Something's up.  You're not happy.  Where's your joy?"

That hit me hard.  It wasn't just a 'where's your God-given good attitude' kind of question.. he was wondering what happened to dampen me, to out my light, as it were.  It hit me because there wasn't really a reason.. I was just all harumphed.  [Please, don't try to figure that out.  There isn't a good explanation.]

I realized that there was a significant lack of reasons for being in the attitude I was in... my classmate showed me, in the span of one sentence, that attitude is everything and that I have control over it.  The question to me wasn't so much about where the joy was - I knew it still resided within me.  It was more about why I was choosing not to show it and to let my bad, but largely unbased, mood rule my morning.

It didn't seem natural that people should so easily read me.  However, as I've learned to pay more attention, I'm finding it's not nearly as weird... or as hard... as it would at first seem.  One of my best friends is a good example.. and don't be creeped out, I don't stalk him.  I just spend a lot of time with him. :)  Anyways, when said friend is happy, the skin on his face shines with an almost pinkish glow, and his eyes are clear.  However, when angry, it's as if someone took some smoke, or something similar, and rubbed it in (if that was possible).. you may have heard the expression "clouded over"?  Well, I've seen it live.  His face clouds over.  The skin gets pale and darker, and looks almost pasty, similar to the consistancy of cookie dough.  His eyes dull and get a red tinge as if he was tired.  It's crazy.  I can always tell when he's in less than a good mood by his face... even if I don't know exactly why.  I suppose it's similar with my own person.

It used to bother me - a lot - that people could read my moods so easily.  It's hard to fake being happy when you're upset, or vice versa, or whatever you want, really, when people can tell how you're feeling by your body or the way you carry yourself.

However, ever since I started my job, I've realized that this is not something to be annoyed by.  Better than that, my mood, and however my body chooses to communicate it - whether by starry eyes or uplifted step -  is a tool.  It's a tool to teach and encourage others to be happier themselves.

You see, if people can tell that I'm happy, natural law says they should in turn be happier, even if it's only a little.  Think about it.  If you see someone laughing and enjoying themselves, you smile a little more inside, even if you're having a horrible day.  Because joy creates joy, and it's natural to feel a little better when you see someone else having a great time.

So, whatever if my eyes sparkle.  If that proves that I'm happy, bring it on.  They'd better be sparkling, because if they aren't, I'm not having a good time and enjoying my life.  And I don't want that.  I'd rather be happy, eyes sparkling or not, I don't care.  But since they apparently do, I'll embrace it. And I'll sparkle my way into others' hearts and lives, throwing out sparkly eye pixie dust and hopefully making their eyes a little more sparkly too.

What about you?  What would you rather communicate with your body?  It's not hard to tell whether most people are happy or not... what do you want them to see?  More importantly, what do you want to feel?

Think about it.  Do you sparkle?

Hearts of Glass

Today I finished the book The Betrayal by Beverly Lewis.  It is the second in a five part series about an Amish family with five daughters and the trials they go through from the point of the eldest's Rumschpringe (or the period from the sixteenth birthday until a young adult chooses to formally be baptised into the church or to leave the community and is a 'running around' period meant to allow Amish young adults to experience a bit more of the world and to find a suitable marriage partner within the faith) and continues throughout the next few years with excerpts from each daughter's point of view.

The books are good, easy reads that give you a fairly decent picture of traditional Old Order Amish lifestyle, and I own several of Lewis' works.  The Betrayal mostly tells the story of the second oldest daughter of the family, Leah, and her beau, Jonas.  At the beginning of the book, they are madly in love and participating in the traditional routines of Amish courtship practices, which include going to barn singings with other young folks, and horse and buggy rides late into the night. Over the course of the book, Jonas gets offered a wonderful opportunity to master a trade in another church district, in another state altogether, and ends up taking it.  Meanwhile, another youth at home, Gideon, is the young man chosen to marry Leah by her father.. but everyone knows Leah loves Jonas and Gid refuses to destroy it. 

Gid gives Leah a German Shepherd puppy, and one day some months later she gets lost in the wood behind her home, and together, Gid and the dog King end up rescuing her and bringing her back.  Leah's older sister Sadie espies them holding hands on the way home, but doesn't ask for an explanation and begins to jump to conclusions.  Near the end of the book, Sadie moves out to Ohio where Jonas is working for a change of scenery, and through a myriad of misinterpretations, destroyed or discarded letters, and hastily made phone calls, Leah and Jonas both end up believing that they've been cheated on weeks before their planned wedding - Leah with Gideon, and Jonas with Sadie.  The wedding is called off, for reasons that had they spoken directly, would've been easily and swiftly dealt with.  However, because of the patched together information from other sources and the strict rules of the Amish church regarding courtship before marriage, neither Leah nor Jonas know the truth until it's too late.

I can't tell you what happens beyond that, because I only have the first and second books.  (I will be visiting the library shortly!) But reading that today, it kind of struck me in a new way how fragile relationships are.

Think of the person you would consider your best, or at least a very dear, friend.  Someone you know inside and out, sometimes better than yourself.  Now think of someone you met in the past week.  You have relationships with both these people... but they're obviously not the same.  What's the difference?  The answer should be jumping out at you right now - time.  You've spent time with one and not the other.

It takes hours, days, weeks, years.. you get the point.. to build a solid relationship.  Those hours can't just be idle chatter all the time, either... they must be at times be spent in earnest discussion, at times in laughter, at times in tears, at times in silence. 

However, despite all those hours invested, it can take but one wrongly worded statement, but one lie, but one bit of gossip to destroy in one fell swoop every iota of trust that exists.. er, existed.

And once gone, it is possibly gone forever - and you're gonna have to work hard if you want it back.

I think, though, that the most powerful relationship repairing tools are the words, "I'm sorry," and "I forgive you,", of course, provided that they're meant sincerely and one makes an effort to remedy and not repeat one's mistake.

Recognizing and taking responsibility of one's erronous ways and mistakes goes far in repairing a hurt relationship, but sometimes it takes more than just words of apology.  Sometimes it takes actions.  And sometimes, it takes time.  Sometimes, there is nothing one can do except offer their most sincere apology and walk away knowing one did one's best.

After reading that book, and knowing things from all perspectives, it was very frustrating to see the characters struggle in the ways they did because they chose to obey the laws of communicating only by written word, even when important letters (which were tampered with by other people) never seemed to arrive or be delivered, or even worse, were never written because of one three reasons: i) they were afraid to write, b) they assumed things, or c) they listened to others who themselves had only partial pieces of the puzzle.

Which made me think about how much I'd stake to save a relationship I cared about when it was on rocky ground.  Would I rely on what others said about people involved and what they saw or heard?  I think I would be interested, but they're subject to their own opinions and biases too.  I've learned too that jumping to conclusions and assuming things is never the route to travel either..

I once had a friend text me and say how he felt betrayed by some people he knew and didn't feel like he could associate with them anymore.  I encouraged him to aquiesce to their request to talk, however, and I told him exactly this: that as long as he didn't talk to them, any answers to the questions he had were merely guesses.  He may have guessed correctly, but there was also the possibility that he had not.  I told him that simply for his own eventual peace of mind, he should go speak to them, instead of making assumptions.

He did speak to them.  Most of his guesses were correct.  However, some apologies were given and issues dealt with, and they are still close friends today... even after a deep hurt. Because the words "I'm sorry," and "Will you forgive me?" came into play, and because he overcame his anger and pain enough to at least hear their side.

So what will you do?  We all have been and will be hurt by someone we love.  What are you willing to put at stake - your relationship, or your pride?  What's more worth saving?

Wasted Time

Today is Remembrance Day here in Canada (in case any readers aren't Canadian).  It is a day when we remember fallen soldiers from any war in the last 100 years, or in other words WWI and on.  Sometimes we make special mention of fallen police, fire, and other emergency personnel as well, and also men and women who gave their lives during battles before WWI that were integral in securing the country we so dearly know and love as today's Canada.

In note of that, I would like to make mention of and thank every person who has or is involved in the Canadian armed forces, both at home and abroad, for donating their resources and risking their lives in order to keep Canada free.  You are greatly appreciated and respected nationwide.

It being Remembrance Day, and myself working at a university cafeteria, and the holiday being so close to the weekend, the store was unusually dead today.  All the university midterm exams finished yesterday, and the student body was basically nonexistant - everyone took a four day weekend.  I hardly saw ten people the whole time I was there.

Because it was so dead, everyone (especially me, because I don't do any cooking) had next to nothing to do.  Around 9:30, my boss came into my area and said that sales were much lower than expected (even for the holidays), they didn't need to keep nearly as many people around and I could go home after three hours.  I normally do six per day, with a half hour lunch.  So today, I went home, after three hours, excited because I could now watch the Remembrance Day ceremonies on television (I was too late to attend an actual service as I usually do).  Around 2pm, my boss called me at home and said that they expected the same tomorrow, and because they only needed one dishwasher, for a few hours, to keep up with the demand, my shift was cancelled.  They chose the night guy to get the hours for tomorrow on account of senority, as he's been working three weeks longer than I have.

I was excited about today and neutral on tomorrow, but I conceded it would be nice to have such a long weekend.  I posted about it on Facebook, just because I was excited about not having to get up tomorrow and such.

My friend commented and was like, "Why would you want your shift to be cancelled?  If it was me, I'd be furious." 

Which made me think about, again, how much time people waste being angry or disappointed over things that can't be changed.  Like, actually. cannot. be. changed.  No matter what you do or try to do. 

Things like today, and tomorrow.  I might've been able to stay a bit longer today, but with nothing to do.  Plus, he said to go.  So whatever.  Tomorrow though.. well, boss is boss.  He says no, I don't go. 

And like my friend said, I could be furious.  A lot of people would be.  But I'm not.  I can't do anything about it.  The way I see it, he's right.  The other dishwasher has more senority.  Plus, the other dishwasher also has a child he's supporting and needs the hours much more than I do.  Plus, I now have time to do things tomorrow that might not otherwise get done in a busy weekend.  Plus, I don't have to wake up at 6 if I don't want to.  It really depends on how you look at things.

To me, being angry at something I can't change is wasting energy that could more wisely and prudently be invested into something else, something which would see a result.  For instance, I had two conversations within the last forty eight hours that, in my opinion, justify anger.

One, my mom's friend's daughter, approximately 15 years old, recently asked her mother to purchase some things that were simply outside of the limits of the mother's budget.  The mother, trying to exercise prudence with her funds, said no.. to which the daughter replied that her mother should buy her said things because, as the parent, it is her responsibility to keep the daughter happy.  (Should mention that daughter has a job and is capable of saving for wanted things).  To me, the mother's resulting anger at her daughter's lack of respect and disregard of their financial situation is justifiable.  It is a situation which could be changed, depending on the way mother chooses to answer her daughter, and what she teaches her about money and wise spending and saving, and respecting her mother's decisions and efforts.

Second situation involved a friend who was helping her boyfriend out temporarily with funds, but felt that she was giving him too much, and wanted to retain more for herself and her own expenses.  As often happens with couples when talking about major issues, they disagreed and she was angry that he wanted so much.. but they talked about it and settled it suitably for both. 

I don't think either of the subjects in those stories wasted their time being angry, because both situations were legitimate and things needed to and could be changed.  Nor do I think being angry about cancelled shifts would be pointless if they were routinely being cancelled.. however, one shift, to me, is not worth it.  I'm not losing the job and I know that this is just because of a holiday. 

Similar situations I've run into include being angry over the weather, that one fell in the mud.. you know what I mean.  Things that seem insurmountable like taxes and laws aren't always.. stand up for what you want, be angry, vote on it, write letters.

I hope this makes sense to you.. it's one of those things where it changes with every situation.  But there are a lot of people who spend thousands of minutes upset over things they can do nothing about and that can't be changed.. minutes they'll never get back. 

If you hypothetically had one million minutes in your life, and would die the second the last minute was up, how much of that would you want to spend mad, upset, or disappointed that you didn't have to?  There's such a thing as righteous anger, but I would say that most of the time, anger isn't worth it.

Think about it when you find yourself getting angry.  "I only have this minute of this day of this year once.  I'll never have it again.. do I want to spend it joyful and appreciate the life I have, or angry and clouded because I refuse to see the good side of things?"  Practice changing your perspective, and then do it as often as you can.. you'll find life gets lots more enjoyable.

"If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it."
~Mary Engelbreit

Keep Trekkin', You'll Make It There. Trust Me.

Yesterday, (Friday), I celebrated the completion of my first two weeks at my new job. (I even bought myself a pudding as a reward!).  I am very proud of myself.  Not only for sticking with it for two weeks - and no, I'm not stopping there - but also for learning a brand new skill set and also some life lessons.

Yes.  I said life lessons.

You're probably wondering what kind of crazy job I have, that two weeks would teach me something.  I am a dishwasher for a university cafeteria.  I love it, and I'm proud of what I do.

I've come to realize, with some help from others, that I have THE most important job in the place. Nothing happens if there's no clean dishes.  I'm busy all day, and there's never nothing to do.  I don't consider my job to be purely washing dishes, however.. in my opinion, and the goal I aim for, is to make every person I come in contact with happier.  A lot of time, that simply means having clean dishes.  But, if I put a little more effort in, the level of happiness actually, legitimately increases; instead of them just being 'happy' (read - satisfied) by the work that I do.

So, enter life lesson Numero Uno.  If you're happy and upbeat, your day will go better, and everyone else's mood immediately improves along with yours.

Like I mentioned a couple of posts ago, smile everywhere and at any opportunity.  I smile at everyone I meet, every morning, and usually it's accompanied by a very loud, energetic, and cheery "Good morning, _______!"  They usually play music in the kitchen.  We have two Jamaicans working with us, and often it's a Jamaican station from satellite radio.  So, I dance across the floor.  I give hugs away like they're a disease, unstoppable and spreading to every individual.  I say please, excuse me, and thank you... even the people who bring me dishes get thanked.  (Note.  Kind of funny to do that.. they always look confused.)  Part of my job is to collect cardboard and take it out to recycling, and also to help put away shipments of food every morning.  I try to make everything I say positive.  I say, "Yes sir," and "Yes ma'am," all the time.  I don't think about having the 'lowest' job in the place.  I think about how much I'm making their lives easier and better because I'm saving them time. 

And it's working.  Almost everyone smiles back.  They tease me a lot... partially because I scare easily, and they think that's funny.  I've got a few nicknames in two weeks.. including Princess, Little One (I'm pretty much the youngest), and this one fellow calls me Stretch.  No idea why.  They give me hugs.  Someone gave me a cookie.  Another offered to pay for the pudding I got yesterday.  They apologize for bringing me dishes constantly and making messes. 

Which brings to life lesson Number Two.  The constant dishes.

See, my goal since starting has been to clear the racks and washing area every day, so I have nothing to do.  It did happen Thursday, because the night washer had help Wednesday night.  It was great.  I kept up with everything right away, and I had time to Comet and scrub the entire place down and mop the floors.  I was so proud of my pretty, clean, shiny dishpit - which I like to call my "haven" - and I let EVERYONE know.  But, as I'm sure you can guess, it doesn't happen often.  New dishes always come.  It's cyclicle.  Even on Friday, I couldn't fully keep up, even though it was spotless the day before.

At first, it bothered me.  I wanted to be the best dishwasher they ever had, to keep up perfectly, to have it clean for the night dishwasher every day.  I was discouraged when I had more than I could handle during my shift.  But it didn't take long for me to realize that sometimes, even my best efforts won't fully clear away the mess.

So I was thinking long and hard about that this week during work, because I really don't want to get discouraged and disappointed every day I don't get absolutely everything done.. because that would mean 95% of the time I wouldn't be reaching my goal.  There are ALWAYS new dirty dishes to be done.  Thinking about that, I realized something.

It's not how much you have to go that's as important as how much you've already come.  Although the dirty dishes matter and have to be washed, they really aren't what I should be focusing on.  They're a goal to work towards, but that's all they are.  What really matters is that I'm putting in my full effort and focusing on what I've accomplished- the dishes I've washed, the things I have done.  Because I'll never be fully done, so if I keep looking at how far I have to go, I'll never realize how far I've already made it.

One of my favorite missionary stories involves Amy Carmichael.  I read once about a story where she had to lead many children on a journey of several days, traveling on foot.  Understandably, the children became tired and slightly less than agreeable.  To encourage them, whenever they asked how much farther it was to their destination, she told them, "Every step you take is one step closer!"  Meaning = There may be a lot to go to your goal, but as long as you're still moving forward, you're getting closer. 

I had my own Amy Carmichael experience approximately two years ago in Guatemala.  We had a day trip in which we were lucky enough to be able to climb an active volcano.  I paid to ride a horse about halfway up, mostly because I love horses and take any opportunity to ride one.  However, I was soon glad I did.. because when we hit the volcanic shale, I felt like I was going to die.  If you've seen the Lord of the Rings, imagine the scenes of Mount Doom - foggy, desolate, and full of small, sharp rock chips that make walking difficult.  That's pretty much exactly what we had for our walk up the latter half of the mountain.  I made it fine for awhile.. mostly flat parts, I'll admit, but as soon as we hit some intense uphill I was done.  Especially because I'm diabetic and my energy stores work a little different than other peoples'... since my body can't convert sugar on its own, once my energy reserves are depleted I'm practically useless.  Eating helps a little, but it takes awhile and unless it's a substantial snack with sugars or protein, all it does is put me back to being stable. 

Anyways, point of information and story is that my blood sugar was lowering, I was tired, emotional, and to make it worse, I kept tripping and falling.  I was at the back of the pack, and far behind the next last person.  But one man taught me an incredible lesson that day.  And it's the lesson that came back to me in these last two weeks.  It's not about how far you have to go.  It's about how far you've come.  Steve Smith (our head chaperone), stayed with me, encouraging, demanding, yelling, pushing, pulling, sharing his own water, and pointing out the way when I couldn't make it out anymore on account of sweat and tears.. and I made it to the top.  Slowly, but surely, one step at a time, I walked those rocks.. or more like monkeyed over them, using my arms and my legs.. but I made it. 

On the way down, I fell on a large chunk of volcanic rock and ripped a huge gash in my left knee.  It bears a scar today.  Add to that, we lost our guide for a while and ended up having to backtrack when we did find him.  We had to zigzag up a portion.. and I was low, tired, somewhat disoriented, and now bleeding.. but I made it, because I set small goals and focused one step at a time.  There was one boy in our group, and he was kind enough to stay with me.  On the way back up that trail, I had him travel to the next turning point in the zigzag, and I walked to him.  I didn't think about taking the whole trail on, or the rest of the walk down.  I focused on twenty foot sections at a time, on making it to Tobyn, and then looking back and being proud of every twenty feet I accomplished.

Together, my job has reminded me of those two things and made them more real for me.  We've already talked about making our world a better place with a better attitude in previous posts, so I'll leave that be... but I want to encourage you to, as Dory the fish says in Nemo, "just keep swimming".  Don't look so far forward that all you think about is how much you have to go.  Don't look back and spend your time thinking about when things weren't so hard, either.  Doing either of those is bound to bring depression.  Focus on what you're doing now.  Small goals, one step at a time.  Look back and be proud of how far you've come. 
I was reading Chicken Soup for the Soul earlier today and I came across this quote: "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow."

So do that.  If today doesn't work out, promise yourself you won't give up and you'll try again tomorrow.  As long as you're moving forward, nothing else matters.

Just For Jody

I was personally requested to write another tonight.  This one's for Jody.. but hopefully the rest of you will like it too :)

On Halloween, I volunteered at our church's event for children, as I have been doing for almost 10 years now.  Right when I got there, the dean of the Bible school pulled me into her office for a few minutes to give me back some assignments from last year (teacher took awhile to mark them :S)

Anyways, the stuff received was from our course in Authority.  The ending assignment was a paper on said subject.  I took mine home after the event, and reread it - and you know what?  It might be wrong to say, but I was impressed with myself.  I really think I did a good job on that paper.. and I got 90% on it, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say maybe the instructor did too.

I also thought it tied in a little with my last blog.  So, I'm going to copy and paste the first half for you to read (second half is personal example, which I would share but I think it would make this way too long and although it's good, it's not necessary to add for my point)

-------
Authority


Everyone agrees that authority, both as a cultural idea and in physical examples, exists. Most would also say that they’ve encountered both good and bad examples of authority. However,for us to further explain this idea of good and bad authority, we must fully understand exactly what authority is.

http://www.dictionary.com/ defines authority in this way: “The power to determine, adjudicate, or otherwise settle issues or disputes; jurisdiction; the right to control, command, or determine.” Wikipedia states that the word authority is derived from the Latin word “auctoritas”, which means “invention, advice, opinion, nfluence, or commands,” which come from an “auctor” – or in English - a master, leader, or author. Authority, therefore, is in essence the ability of one person (a superior) to impose his will and direction on another (an inferior). This usually involves force of arms, called structural authority or compulsion, or by force ofargument, called sapiential authority or persuasion.

Authority is not the same as power, but these terms are often exchanged freely for each other, especially in common areas like policing and government. However, power is force, compelling someone to do something that, without the abusive power of force, he or she wouldn’t or couldn’t do.

To better understand this idea, consider a very common illustration : a parent and a child. When the child respects his parent’s wishes and therefore does what the parent asks him to do, he is respecting the authority his parent possesses. However, let’s say the child is of a bit younger age, and today happens to have missed his nap. He is tired, upset, and refuses to put on his jacket as requested. At this point, the parent moves past his or her authority and into the medium of power, and dresses the child themselves. Although it may have been necessary to use power (perhaps it was cold outside), the parent essentially forced the child to do what he did not want to do himself. This is the difference between authority and power – one asks for obedience, and the other requires it.

Of course, this is a situation where the use of power would be considered appropriate by most. Like every other situation in this world, the opposite could be and sometimes is true. A common example that many people are familiar with is Adolph Hitler’s Nazi regime. Some are not aware of the fact that Adolph Hitler actually had legitimate authority as the German potentate. He was appointed to the German government as Chancellor in 1933, and then Fuhrer in 1934. However, Hitler, as we all know, abused his authority and used his power as Germany’s ruler to decimate Europe in a personal quest for absolute power over the earth and all within it.

Sometimes the people or groups wielding the power and authority aren’t the same. For instance, the Boston Tea Party was a rebellion of the citizens of Boston, Massachusetts against the British government in 1773. In that situation, the authority was held by Great Britain… but the power was in the hands of the Bostonians themselves.  Authority also has a time frame, and it doesn’t always have to be a person, specifically – it can be nearly anything that requires you to do or be something. It can last forever (like God’s authority, or the authority of food and water over your body), many years (a king’s authority lasts as long as his life does), a few months (school asts ten months out of the year), or even two minutes – such as a traffic light.

Authority is a touchy reality and one that is subject to much debate and disagreement, simply because of what it stands for. People always have resisted and always will resist someone or something domineering over them, whether it’s legimate or not. This means that people in positions of authority must be very careful in how they deal with their respective areas of leadership.

This course on authority has shown me how I should uphold and respect all authority, whether I consider it good, bad, right, wrong, or otherwise. What I’ve discovered and deciphered out of everything I’ve learned in life until this point about the subject of authority = obedience is a journey, and we all take it.


----------

The reason I thought this tied in to the last post is probably obvious.  We will all, at some point in our lives, be placed in authority over someone.  Maybe more than one someone.  And we will all, likewise, be placed in a situation where we have to submit.  The key is, how will you handle it?  Nobody likes to be bossed around, but sometimes it's necessary.  If you can't follow, are you sure you can lead?  Humility goes a long way.  Often, we say we can do it better.. but maybe, just maybe, that's why we're not doing it.
So here's the question.  When you're in a leadership position, will you move into the medium of power by using force to accomplish your will?  Or will you stay stay in an authoritative and respective mode?  When you're in a situation where you have to obey, will you do so without question or complaint? 

The greatest leaders in the world are also good followers.  What are you?

“If you wish to know what a man is, place him in authority.”

~Yugoslavian Proverb~

No "Ridin' Solo"

I don't know about you, but I live in Kelowna.  In Kelowna, there are about 106,000 people at last count.  That's a lot of people.  That's a lot of opportunity.

I've just been realizing this in a new way so often over the last month.  I was volunteering twice a week at my chiropractor's office, helping out with front desk and some random chores.  As such, I put away and pulled files several times a day.  Each of those files belong to someone.  Each of those someones has a name.  It was very rewarding for me, personally, to be able to match file names with actual people and to put a name to a face.. even though I hardly ever saw them again.  There are probably over two thousand files in that office.  When I was putting files away, or grabbing them for the doctor, it struck me every time that each of those files represents a real person, with real goals and dreams, real problems - each of those file people mattered to someone and somebody loved them, even though I might not know them personally (and usually didn't). 

The same thing happens when I walk into the mall, or my sister's school, or any busy, public place.  To look up and see people... but then to pay attention and change the way you think, and instead of seeing people, you see individuals.  To look at the man in the trenchcoat who's walking quickly, and to wonder where he's hurrying to.  The young, pregnant lady with a toddler... to wonder if she's on her own or if she's got a loving husband to go home to and help her with her little ones.

I've heard people call this kind of thing stalking.  I would have to disagree.  I'm not actually asking questions, following, or even looking inside the files as I put them away.. I just pause and am reminded that each one of these people have value.

 I was walking to cheer a few weeks ago with my brother (aka close family friend), and we were talking.  He often mentions frustrating situations at work, where he deals with customer service a lot.  I always tell him to keep smiling, and that by smiling he may change that person's day for the better.. or maybe even their life.  I tell him that every time he trains a new employee, even though he has to do everything slowly and perhaps more than once, that maybe he's training the best employee that company will ever have.  Maybe that new guy will revolutionize the way this company works and bring them millions.  And maybe, just maybe, it's all because of the way and manner he was trained in when he first started.  On that particular day, on that particular walk to cheer, we were talking about all the students we'd passed on the way.  And it hit me again. 

There are 106,000 people in Kelowna.  That's 106,000 people that I interact with every day.  That's 106,000 people whose lives could be changed by me, if I take care and produce the effort to make it so.

The big word for me in the last couple of weeks has been COMMUNITY.  I don't think I've understood better than I do now how important community is.

Community is life.  It's protection.  It's comfort, and it's love.  It's provision, it's education, it's opportunity.  It's everything we've ever needed, but we so often choose not to utilize it.  We stick with our small circle of friends and rely on them for everything.  And you know, that's great.  Sometimes, that's all we need.  But the world is big, and there's so much more out there.  All we have to do is step out the front door and look, and we will meet people and have experiences that will change our lives, right in our own city.

Kelowna, especially, has had a strong sense of community in the past because of our forest fires.  People here opened their hearts and their doors for other citizens of the city and surrounding area.  It was amazing. 

But I think it's fading.

A few weeks ago in church my pastor told us a story.  He said that in ancient times, no army would attack Sparta, and that people marveled at the great city because of its strength.  He said that the walls were so high, no arrows could fly over them.  They were so thick, that no battering ram could penetrate them.  They surrounded the city at such great distance that it would be impossible to march around it. 

However, when visitors came looking for the famed walls, they found nothing.  Sparta was an open city with no barriers of any kind at its perimeters.  Confused, they would ask for an explanation of why there was such fame for the walls of Sparta, when clearly none existed. 

The answer they would receive was this.  When we are attacked, every able man helps to defend our city.  Our walls do exist, but only when they need to, only when we create them.  The famed height is because in every row one man stands on another's shoulders.  Battering rams cannot defeat us, because behind every man stands another, and another, and another, all with shields at ready.  They surround the city easily and cannot be penetrated because every man links arms with the one next to him.  Together, Spartans form the walls of Sparta, and we are not easily defeated when we are fighting for our homeland.

I don't know if that's true, but what an amazing story and concept.  To have such a strong community bond that its fame stretches for miles beyond the community's borders.  Obviously, the people of Kelowna aren't going to protect the city from literal invaders... or are they? 

Poverty is an invader.  Sickness is an invader.  Loneliness.  Depression.  Stress.  Even natural disasters like fire.  There is so much we can do to strengthen our community, to build up a network of contacts and a web of people that we help and in turn can be helped by.  Donate to the food bank.  Give blood.  Clean up the streets in your neighbourhood.  Even something as simple as calling a friend and saying, "Hey, how are you doing?  Do you need help with anything?"  If you're not into volunteering type things, try involving yourself in sports.  Don't litter.  Let someone into your lane when you're driving.  Try and make a new friend.  The most easily accomplished and never used community building tool = smile. 

There are 106,000 people in Kelowna.  If you don't live here, I'm sure there are people in your city too.  Look around you.  How many lives can you change today by simply being a better neighbour?

No Pain, No Gain

A long time ago, I was taught to never leave blank spaces.

You know what I mean.  In art class.  I'd be drawing.  There would come a point where I would have no more ideas and therefore considered myself finished.  Then the teacher would come along and look.  If she saw white, she would say, "You're not finished.. there's still space.  Fill it up, Ashleigh - use your imagination and draw whatever you want.  There's no right or wrong, as long as you fill the page.  I know there's more inside of you... fill the page, sweetheart."

So I did.  I learned to fill pages with my emotions, my thoughts, my ideas, my plans.  I reached a level in my artistic ability where there was never a problem with using the space.  But tonight I realized that somewhere along the line, I've forgotten that most simple of lessons - to not stop at what you think is finished, but to reach out and push yourself, to strive, to create.  Until you've filled the space.

Tonight I'm babysitting.  The boy is three years old, and there are crayons and paper on the table.  I filled the space with color and emotion, just as I'd been taught.. but about halfway, I almost stopped.  Because I wasn't sure what to do or where to go next.  That's when it hit me - this piece of paper is just like my life.

So much has happened to me in the last week that my head is still spinning.  Even tonight, I wasn't sure what to blog on... my planned idea seemed so unfit for the way I feel right now.  So, instead of blogging, I drew.  And through that simple, childlike experience, I grew.  And so I knew then that that's what I would tell you.  So here's the spew. ;)

Basically, that page is my life, the crayons are my experiences, and I am the artist.  This summer I was stuck.  Blank.  Left with white spaces.  I had no idea where to go or what to do.  I was getting depressed.

Let me say that I don't think I wasted my whole summer.  I put a lot of time and effort into growing some newer friendships and I'm glad I had the time and opportunity to do that.  But my plan after getting back from Africa in May had been to work all summer, fall, winter.. and then see what happens.  I was going to revert back to where I had been at after I graduated high school. I had three plans.. a) go to university, b) travel abroad, or c) go up north and apprentice to a musher.  It didn't work out that way.

After Bible school I lost any motivation for education.. I needed a break.  Going up north didn't appeal to me any longer.  I wasn't finding a job, even though I put effort into searching.  I decided I wanted to go to Europe, and started looking into options to get there.

Nothing worked, and I sat at home for weeks on end, doing nothing with the majority of my time.  I was bored, frustrated, and sinking deeper into the depression that had already started.

A few weeks ago, I looked up.  I knew I was depressed because I was choosing more and more to sleep my days away, and I wasn't okay with that.  So finally, I asked God - "What's the plan?  Nothing I want is working and I've lost all my drive.  I know I'm not useless and that there's a place for me... what is it?"

Nothing happened right that second, but I was driven back into my Bible, searching for answers.  It was encouraging, but it still wasn't fixing my problem.. my future was still a huge, blank space.  I posted about how my dreams seemed to be crumbling on Facebook, and my friend's mother offered to meet me for coffee and a chat.  She's not exactly professional.. but she is amazing at planning things and setting goals, and I knew that's what I needed to do - so I said yes.

The first time was a few days after the post, and my mood had lightened considerably, and I REALLY didn't want to go.  That made me sure that I had to.... because for me, there are two types of "not want" feelings:  1) the regular "I don't really mind if I miss this and it won't affect my life too much if I do (for example, watching Survivor or sometimes missing an event), but then there's b) I really don't want to go and can't get it off my mind, and all I can think about is how much I don't want to go.  This meeting was defnintely not want to B.  I know from experience that whenever feeling B shows up, that whatever I want to avoid must definitely not be avoided.  I went.

She hasn't shared with me a ton that I don't know.  I'd say 70-80% of what she's told me in two meetings I knew already... but the difference comes in when you are pushed to apply it to your own life, instead of just spitting it out from memory like you would facts on a test.  That was what I wasn't doing - applying it.  Coloring the spaces.  In fact, I would have to say I was running from it.  Leaving the spaces blank because I was too discouraged from past attempts to make things work that failed.  She changed that for me.

I am inspired again.  I'm learning how to set goals and keep them - something I've never really done.  I'm an accountability person.  Being accountable to this lady, to be accountable to myself, is the best thing I've done for me in a long time.  In the Bible it says clearly, "Without a vision, the people perish."  Another common quote says, "Fail to plan, plan to fail."  I still had my ideas, but I wasn't applying them to the paper of my life.  I wasn't planning, and I was failing.. and miserably, too.

Since that first meeting two weeks ago, when I decided that my life had to change and I had to remotivate myself to move forward, several things have happened.  I got a call from a job I had applied for.  I went for the interview.  Yesterday, I found out that I have the job.  I start Monday.  I've looked into university again, and I'm seriously considering reapplying.

I reviewed my colors and I'm excited about the prospect of blank space to be filled.  I took my ideas and former goals that I ditched on a shelf in the back of my brain and dusted them off.  I have a plan once again, and this time I'm not trying to set things up on my own.  I've learned that staying motivated, even when ideas don't work out the first time, is way easier when you firstly give it up to the Master Artist and say, "I need a little nudge... can you show me the way?" and secondly when you surround yourself with people who encourage you to push yourself and applaud your successes along the way.

Even this blog has renewed life within it.. I've wanted to quit, but one very dear friend of mine texted or facebooked me every Saturday to tell me she loved my writing and to keep going, to not give up.  There would only be about 5 posts if it weren't for Kira Machek.

And there would still be a very sad and bored Ashleigh if God hadn't nudged me in Jody Wielgosz's direction, and through her shown me that my goals are worth keeping and accomplishing.

I know you both read this, and I want to publicly thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you've done for me.  I love you and I pray that God blesses you richly for the help you've been to me.

This is a really long blog, and I'm sorry for that.  But that's where I am tonight.  I'm the artist of my own sheet of paper, and I've new ideas and a new excitement for the blank spaces.  I hope this encourages you to start drawing again, to begin to fill up the white spots on your own sheet of life paper - because your goals, dreams and ideas are worth saving, too.