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Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Staring at the Sun
Many people don't know that the human eye has a blind spot in it's field of vision. There's a part of the world we are literally blind to. The problem is, sometimes our blind spots shield us from things that really shouldn't be ignored. Sometimes our blind spots keep our lives bright and shiny. When it comes to our blind spots, maybe our brains aren't compensating. Maybe they're protecting us.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Jonathan "Pugsley" Close
So this weekend was pretty much terrible. It's taken me until now to actually write about it.
Writing about it makes it real.. makes it less of a dream.
If everyone is okay with it, I'm going to write this entry TO Jonathan... Because I find it easier than talking about someone... and because, well, I wish I could talk to him right now.
I'm normally pretty good with the coping, with the adapting to trauma. Taking grief in stride.
Which, if you think about it, is pretty sick. It's just the way I'd become, I suppose. I liked to think that, eventually, I'd grow out of it. Be able to mourn again. To cry for loved ones lost.
Well, I think I have. Seeing everyone this weekend changed everything. When I heard you were gone, suffice it to say, I was shocked. I didn't know what to feel, or how. It was like I didn't have those emotional pain sensors in me anymore. After awhile, I cried, but only because I felt like it was the appropriate thing to do. You were my best friend for the first seven years of my life. We did everything together, you were my constant, the one person I could depend on. Our relationship was never complex, we never hurt oneanother. When we spoke, it was easy, we laughed and we poked fun at eachother. And your parents, oh, they loved you so much... you are still their entire world. Seeing them this weekend was my breaking point. I grew up with your mom being like a parent to me. She yelled at me just like any other mom, and I think she even sent me to my room sometimes. Or everytime I entered a room, hearing your dad sing "Well, Golly Molly" (I always hated that). I grew up assuming your family WAS my family. I didn't know anything else. Seeing them fall apart was the hardest thing I think I've ever witnessed.
Having your mom collapse in my arms, hearing your dad say he was worried about her having a bath with supervision, it was like everything I knew, everything I had ever depended on, was gone in a flash. Sitting with your mom, while she sat flipping through photo albums of you, refusing to eat or tear her eyes away from your things for even a moment. The whole day is a blur of tears and prayers and having your mom whispering again and again that you were "such a good boy... never said a bad thing about anyone... always smiling".
And I met your daughter; she is so beautiful. She has your eyes. I heard from everyone that she was your entire world, that you loved her so much. That you practiced carrying the babyseat before she was even born... and it sounds just like you. She has your eyes.
It was so bizarre, being home again. I think I will always think of that town as home. Those people will always be my family. Your parents, and your brothers, Lois and John. No matter what I do in life, or where I go, I can still return and know without a doubt that there are people there who have my back no matter what, because they have since I could barely walk. It's one thing to be raised by a great family. But you and I, we were raised by an entire town. And loved. You were loved by that entire town, and even now, they are your biggest fans.
The last thing I said to your mom, was the thing I remember her always saying to me... "You're the daughter I never had, Molly" ... I told her to be strong, because she was the only mom I had left. She hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged and whispered, "thank you"... and I had hope.
You were the ultimate example of "glass half full" kind of person.
I have faith, too, that everything will be alright.
Writing about it makes it real.. makes it less of a dream.
If everyone is okay with it, I'm going to write this entry TO Jonathan... Because I find it easier than talking about someone... and because, well, I wish I could talk to him right now.
I'm normally pretty good with the coping, with the adapting to trauma. Taking grief in stride.
Which, if you think about it, is pretty sick. It's just the way I'd become, I suppose. I liked to think that, eventually, I'd grow out of it. Be able to mourn again. To cry for loved ones lost.
Well, I think I have. Seeing everyone this weekend changed everything. When I heard you were gone, suffice it to say, I was shocked. I didn't know what to feel, or how. It was like I didn't have those emotional pain sensors in me anymore. After awhile, I cried, but only because I felt like it was the appropriate thing to do. You were my best friend for the first seven years of my life. We did everything together, you were my constant, the one person I could depend on. Our relationship was never complex, we never hurt oneanother. When we spoke, it was easy, we laughed and we poked fun at eachother. And your parents, oh, they loved you so much... you are still their entire world. Seeing them this weekend was my breaking point. I grew up with your mom being like a parent to me. She yelled at me just like any other mom, and I think she even sent me to my room sometimes. Or everytime I entered a room, hearing your dad sing "Well, Golly Molly" (I always hated that). I grew up assuming your family WAS my family. I didn't know anything else. Seeing them fall apart was the hardest thing I think I've ever witnessed.
Having your mom collapse in my arms, hearing your dad say he was worried about her having a bath with supervision, it was like everything I knew, everything I had ever depended on, was gone in a flash. Sitting with your mom, while she sat flipping through photo albums of you, refusing to eat or tear her eyes away from your things for even a moment. The whole day is a blur of tears and prayers and having your mom whispering again and again that you were "such a good boy... never said a bad thing about anyone... always smiling".
And I met your daughter; she is so beautiful. She has your eyes. I heard from everyone that she was your entire world, that you loved her so much. That you practiced carrying the babyseat before she was even born... and it sounds just like you. She has your eyes.
It was so bizarre, being home again. I think I will always think of that town as home. Those people will always be my family. Your parents, and your brothers, Lois and John. No matter what I do in life, or where I go, I can still return and know without a doubt that there are people there who have my back no matter what, because they have since I could barely walk. It's one thing to be raised by a great family. But you and I, we were raised by an entire town. And loved. You were loved by that entire town, and even now, they are your biggest fans.
The last thing I said to your mom, was the thing I remember her always saying to me... "You're the daughter I never had, Molly" ... I told her to be strong, because she was the only mom I had left. She hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged and whispered, "thank you"... and I had hope.
You were the ultimate example of "glass half full" kind of person.
I have faith, too, that everything will be alright.
Friday, March 20, 2009
So today something really cool happened.
I was at work just doing my thing, when someone from my old highschool in Qualicum walked in.
Now, I recognized him right away, but I wasn't sure if he knew me.
We chatted for a bit, the way I normally do with strangers, when he looked at me and said "Molly... right? You went to school with me way back".
Now, not only did I remember this kid as one of those boys who got up to "no good" with the majority of my female friends, and would rather get stoned than ever go to class, I also remembered him as someone else. In grade nine, he broke his leg and shared a hospital room with my dying mother.
I mentioned this to him (I left out the part about her no longer being with us) and suffice it to say he thought it was a fairly odd thing for me to recall. He then proceeded to hold up a giant bible he had been carrying and told me that he was on his way to church. We spent a few more minutes talking about my impending trip to Winnipeg/Training College, and he gave me his card.
(He's some big Christian musician now.)
I just thought I'd document this story, because I love when I see such shining examples of Jesus giving true hope to those who lack.
I was at work just doing my thing, when someone from my old highschool in Qualicum walked in.
Now, I recognized him right away, but I wasn't sure if he knew me.
We chatted for a bit, the way I normally do with strangers, when he looked at me and said "Molly... right? You went to school with me way back".
Now, not only did I remember this kid as one of those boys who got up to "no good" with the majority of my female friends, and would rather get stoned than ever go to class, I also remembered him as someone else. In grade nine, he broke his leg and shared a hospital room with my dying mother.
I mentioned this to him (I left out the part about her no longer being with us) and suffice it to say he thought it was a fairly odd thing for me to recall. He then proceeded to hold up a giant bible he had been carrying and told me that he was on his way to church. We spent a few more minutes talking about my impending trip to Winnipeg/Training College, and he gave me his card.
(He's some big Christian musician now.)
I just thought I'd document this story, because I love when I see such shining examples of Jesus giving true hope to those who lack.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
We've been called up to bat... you in?
Oh, the beauty of fairytales. Underdogs win. Frogs become princes.
In the Gospels of Grace, we catch a glimpse of our dreams of glory.
In the Gospels of Grace, we catch a glimpse of our dreams of glory.
We see that fairy tales can come true. Jesus, this historical world-shaker,
claimed to espouse as his mission the realeasing of the imprisoned and the loving of the unloved.
He walked into the playground of the ancient eastern world and chose players for His team.
His choices shocked those chosen, and baffled those observing in the stands
of tradition and political correctness.
The gospel teaches, in a sense, that He has drafted each of us.
The gospel teaches, in a sense, that He has drafted each of us.
Though we stand back, awkward and amazed, He hands us the bat.
Though we're frogs, He kisses us. Though we're ugly stepchildren,
He makes the slipper somehow fit.
He came, and comes, to give life to the lifeless.
(Chris Maxwell, Beggars Can Be Chosen)
He came, and comes, to give life to the lifeless.
(Chris Maxwell, Beggars Can Be Chosen)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
No worries, today I'm going to...
Wait Wait Wait Wait a minute
Hold up
STOP
...The press
I woke up today without that 5 million pound boulder of stress on my chest and now I feel blessed and can rest.
Oh! to rest these weary extremities that have been inflicted with infirmities unseen or experienced by them before
So tell me, what does the future have in store?
I don't know
I'm just going to let today be today, I'm going to wake up this morning with a smile on my face, look in the mirror brush my teeth and not wrack my brain wondering weather shes going to call me or not because when a girl says "lets just be friends," what she really means is "I'm never going to talk to you again."
Accept it
Move on
I just did
And after that I'm going to put on my play clothes, go in the front yard and climb that pecan tree like I did last week, but this time I'm not going to get halfway up it and start debating weather morality is...
A social adaptation
A product of Evolution
Or put there, by God
I'm just going to climb the thing and have fun like I did when I was a kid
And after that I'm going to go to vertebrate zoology class and listen to my boring lifeless instructer talk about how there are 50 different species of minnow in Arkansas alone.
But I'll smile
Nod
SHOW INTEREST
Act interested
(because that really is interesting if you think about it. Think about it)
And then after that I'll go home and have lunch. The same ol' boring lunch again! Two more fricken' frozen monterey jack bean and cheese burritos with a glass of distilled water and an Orange. But I'll give thanks that I do have food to eat because so many peple don't
And after that Ill go to work and paint But I'm not going to paint that boring eggshell white on that old ladys wall like she requested...no, I'm not going to do it. I'm going to pretend I'm a juvenile Leonardo Da Vinci and paint a stick figure masterpiece of a young couple frolicking in a field of flowerswith little butterflies and gophers popping up here and there. (I'm sure the old lady will appreciate it later in life)
And after that, I'm going to have dinner with my Paw Paw and when he cries to me about how his arthritis is bad his own daughter rejects him he's sad, I'll put my arm around himand listen watch his old weary eyes glisten as he experiences my love for him.
And after that I'll go home, sit on the floor and start singing songs to the one that gave me this joy that I'm feeling, but it's more then just some fleeting feeling, it's eternal truth in which I am reeling.
And then at night I lay my head to rest without the slightest bit of fright or fret knowing I made the day the best I could
And that God truly is good
Hold up
STOP
...The press
I woke up today without that 5 million pound boulder of stress on my chest and now I feel blessed and can rest.
Oh! to rest these weary extremities that have been inflicted with infirmities unseen or experienced by them before
So tell me, what does the future have in store?
I don't know
I'm just going to let today be today, I'm going to wake up this morning with a smile on my face, look in the mirror brush my teeth and not wrack my brain wondering weather shes going to call me or not because when a girl says "lets just be friends," what she really means is "I'm never going to talk to you again."
Accept it
Move on
I just did
And after that I'm going to put on my play clothes, go in the front yard and climb that pecan tree like I did last week, but this time I'm not going to get halfway up it and start debating weather morality is...
A social adaptation
A product of Evolution
Or put there, by God
I'm just going to climb the thing and have fun like I did when I was a kid
And after that I'm going to go to vertebrate zoology class and listen to my boring lifeless instructer talk about how there are 50 different species of minnow in Arkansas alone.
But I'll smile
Nod
SHOW INTEREST
Act interested
(because that really is interesting if you think about it. Think about it)
And then after that I'll go home and have lunch. The same ol' boring lunch again! Two more fricken' frozen monterey jack bean and cheese burritos with a glass of distilled water and an Orange. But I'll give thanks that I do have food to eat because so many peple don't
And after that Ill go to work and paint But I'm not going to paint that boring eggshell white on that old ladys wall like she requested...no, I'm not going to do it. I'm going to pretend I'm a juvenile Leonardo Da Vinci and paint a stick figure masterpiece of a young couple frolicking in a field of flowerswith little butterflies and gophers popping up here and there. (I'm sure the old lady will appreciate it later in life)
And after that, I'm going to have dinner with my Paw Paw and when he cries to me about how his arthritis is bad his own daughter rejects him he's sad, I'll put my arm around himand listen watch his old weary eyes glisten as he experiences my love for him.
And after that I'll go home, sit on the floor and start singing songs to the one that gave me this joy that I'm feeling, but it's more then just some fleeting feeling, it's eternal truth in which I am reeling.
And then at night I lay my head to rest without the slightest bit of fright or fret knowing I made the day the best I could
And that God truly is good
Let me be a lighthouse
Let me be a lighthouse, shining on the sea
So you can see me showing you where to be
And row, row, row your boat to shore
And let, let, let my heart adore
you as never before
The birds that sing are the only company I keep
And the sun, as it shines, reminding me of times spent with you
When we had nothing to do
But take walks in parks, and kiss each other
And watch the sparks
And drive down country roads
And sing songs that we both know
We called them lazy days
And we found so many ways to simply enjoy one another
Can we now return to those times?
There is your hand, now here take mine
And look into my eyes, and I'll look into yours
And you tell me stories, and I'll tell you stories,
Of things that have happened in each other's absence
And we'll let our light shine across the sea
Showing others of the love now complete
And we'll make a vow, the opposite of treason
And we'll thank God for giving us another reason
to thank him for the gifts that he gives, like
You to me, and me to you
And us to the world,
And the world to us.
Bradley Hathaway
So you can see me showing you where to be
And row, row, row your boat to shore
And let, let, let my heart adore
you as never before
The birds that sing are the only company I keep
And the sun, as it shines, reminding me of times spent with you
When we had nothing to do
But take walks in parks, and kiss each other
And watch the sparks
And drive down country roads
And sing songs that we both know
We called them lazy days
And we found so many ways to simply enjoy one another
Can we now return to those times?
There is your hand, now here take mine
And look into my eyes, and I'll look into yours
And you tell me stories, and I'll tell you stories,
Of things that have happened in each other's absence
And we'll let our light shine across the sea
Showing others of the love now complete
And we'll make a vow, the opposite of treason
And we'll thank God for giving us another reason
to thank him for the gifts that he gives, like
You to me, and me to you
And us to the world,
And the world to us.
Bradley Hathaway
Friday, March 13, 2009
Awaken me from my sleep, and open up my weary eyes... Move me from my complacency, and bring my soul back to life
Tonight was such an incredible night... so I have decided to blog about it.
There was nothing special about it, really. The youth group girls had a fundraiser at Steve Marshall for Ladies Night, and we made so much money to send kids to camp from donations. It was SUCH a blessing. Shawn told us that it's a new record for money earned. Hallelujah!
After that was over, we met up with some of the guys and went out for a late meal at BP; again, nothing special. Afterwards, Chelle, Mike and I went and walked on the beach for awhile (and Mike almost DIED climbing up to the top of a 17 ft totem pole). We made a last minute decision to take a 2am trip to Parksville, but after stopping at my house for warm clothes, we lost momentum and ending up just hanging out with Shelly til 4:30 or so. Again, none of this was special or anything, but it was amazing. The night was so full of good, meaningful talks, and even more ridiculous ones. On the beach, we started discussing how we used to spend so much time there praying and just reveling in God's goodness. It's heartbreaking how much everything has changed, but I feel like talking about it has opened so many doors to us that we've been keeping closed for the past year or so. I loved having the chance to spend considerable time talking to Mike. He's such an incredible guy and I have so much respect for him.
Afterward, Shelly and I had some great roommate one-on-one time, and it was such a huge blessing.
I feel so full and sensationally blessed right now.
I just wanted to share that.
Goodnight! (er... morning)
There was nothing special about it, really. The youth group girls had a fundraiser at Steve Marshall for Ladies Night, and we made so much money to send kids to camp from donations. It was SUCH a blessing. Shawn told us that it's a new record for money earned. Hallelujah!
After that was over, we met up with some of the guys and went out for a late meal at BP; again, nothing special. Afterwards, Chelle, Mike and I went and walked on the beach for awhile (and Mike almost DIED climbing up to the top of a 17 ft totem pole). We made a last minute decision to take a 2am trip to Parksville, but after stopping at my house for warm clothes, we lost momentum and ending up just hanging out with Shelly til 4:30 or so. Again, none of this was special or anything, but it was amazing. The night was so full of good, meaningful talks, and even more ridiculous ones. On the beach, we started discussing how we used to spend so much time there praying and just reveling in God's goodness. It's heartbreaking how much everything has changed, but I feel like talking about it has opened so many doors to us that we've been keeping closed for the past year or so. I loved having the chance to spend considerable time talking to Mike. He's such an incredible guy and I have so much respect for him.
Afterward, Shelly and I had some great roommate one-on-one time, and it was such a huge blessing.
I feel so full and sensationally blessed right now.
I just wanted to share that.
Goodnight! (er... morning)
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Jonathan Close
You we're like a brother to me... a brother who actually LIKED to hang out with me.
We were the babies of our families, and the only person I didn't feel invisible around.
I still remember playing with your car track in your room for hours, or you playing barbies with me in mine. I remember how we decided we were old enough to watch "It" with Jacob and Jamie... and then had nightmares for weeks. I remember how we'd always try to sneak upstairs to Justin and Jamie's room... but always got caught. I remember a lot of things, actually. You were always around, we were always together. You were my best friend, and there was never any question. I never felt rushed to visit you, because ypu'd always been around, and you always would be. You presence in my life has always been something I can count on... since I was 2 years old.
Rest In Peace Jono... I love you, and I'll miss you.
ps. I still have the hand puppet you got me for christmas when we were 4.
We were the babies of our families, and the only person I didn't feel invisible around.
I still remember playing with your car track in your room for hours, or you playing barbies with me in mine. I remember how we decided we were old enough to watch "It" with Jacob and Jamie... and then had nightmares for weeks. I remember how we'd always try to sneak upstairs to Justin and Jamie's room... but always got caught. I remember a lot of things, actually. You were always around, we were always together. You were my best friend, and there was never any question. I never felt rushed to visit you, because ypu'd always been around, and you always would be. You presence in my life has always been something I can count on... since I was 2 years old.
Rest In Peace Jono... I love you, and I'll miss you.
ps. I still have the hand puppet you got me for christmas when we were 4.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Excerpt from my own blog - May 1st 2008
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:32-33
In this world you will have trouble.
That sentence isn't the kind ready for open interpretation. It doesn't leave you unsure of where you stand or it's meaning. It's simple and to the point.
In this world, in this life, you will have trouble. You will strive and you will fail, you will hurt and cry and mess up countless times and break hearts and have your own shattered. You will wake up some mornings and not want to get out of bed. Crap happens.
But take heart!
Do not fear! Dry your tears and rejoice!
I have overcome the world.
King of Kings, Lord of Lords. The Creator, Alpha and Omega, has overcome this world, this life, this trouble, torment and pain.
That sentence is as simple and concrete as the first.
Take heart! I have overcome the world.
I've been thinking a lot about this verse in particular lately. In this world you will have trouble.
Not maybe... You will.
Absolutely, no doubt about it.
Hold on tight.
I think back to all the times in my life when I have felt alone and hopeless and wondering if it will ever get better. The days, weeks and months after my mom passed away, I was certain that feeling in the pit of my stomach would never go away. That despair and emptiness that remained in her absence. I only recently remembered how much I used to refer to that emptiness. And only then did I notice that it's gone. I started to think back, way back, to before my mom passed away. When I look back at pictures from back then, I barely recognize myself. I was the tiny girl (yeah, yeah, still tiny) with the longest, blondest hair and the sparkle in my eye. I was the one who sat on the phone with my friends for hours telling them that it would get better, as long as they had faith.
The more I thought about it, the more I knew. It wasn't my lack of a mother that had me feeling empty for those passing weeks and months. It was my lack of faith. I'd lost my hope and my belief that it would get better.
I've had a lot of those moments since then, trust me.
Life will never be a walk in the park. There will always be trouble. But God has defeated this world, Jesus has battled the trouble and won.
Take heart. I have overcome the world.
In this world you will have trouble.
That sentence isn't the kind ready for open interpretation. It doesn't leave you unsure of where you stand or it's meaning. It's simple and to the point.
In this world, in this life, you will have trouble. You will strive and you will fail, you will hurt and cry and mess up countless times and break hearts and have your own shattered. You will wake up some mornings and not want to get out of bed. Crap happens.
But take heart!
Do not fear! Dry your tears and rejoice!
I have overcome the world.
King of Kings, Lord of Lords. The Creator, Alpha and Omega, has overcome this world, this life, this trouble, torment and pain.
That sentence is as simple and concrete as the first.
Take heart! I have overcome the world.
I've been thinking a lot about this verse in particular lately. In this world you will have trouble.
Not maybe... You will.
Absolutely, no doubt about it.
Hold on tight.
I think back to all the times in my life when I have felt alone and hopeless and wondering if it will ever get better. The days, weeks and months after my mom passed away, I was certain that feeling in the pit of my stomach would never go away. That despair and emptiness that remained in her absence. I only recently remembered how much I used to refer to that emptiness. And only then did I notice that it's gone. I started to think back, way back, to before my mom passed away. When I look back at pictures from back then, I barely recognize myself. I was the tiny girl (yeah, yeah, still tiny) with the longest, blondest hair and the sparkle in my eye. I was the one who sat on the phone with my friends for hours telling them that it would get better, as long as they had faith.
The more I thought about it, the more I knew. It wasn't my lack of a mother that had me feeling empty for those passing weeks and months. It was my lack of faith. I'd lost my hope and my belief that it would get better.
I've had a lot of those moments since then, trust me.
Life will never be a walk in the park. There will always be trouble. But God has defeated this world, Jesus has battled the trouble and won.
Take heart. I have overcome the world.
Grip
I never thought leaving my happiness behind would ever be an issue.
The thing is, I'm ACTUALLY happy. It feels like such a long time coming.
I feel like I'm on solid ground for the first time in so long.
Nothing has ever felt sturdy to me, I've never been able to rely on anyone, and now I have learned to rely on God. I have gained the self confidence to not fall back on others for protection or safety. It's like some sort of sick joke, that I'm finally growing in love and happiness, and I'm leaving. I am confident in my path here, but the future holds no guarantees. I've gone so long trying to escape from here, to reach out for bigger and better things... and suddenly my life feels like the very best thing. I'm scared to leave and lose that.... lose my security and friends and love. It's like I'll leave and everything will collapse, the world will end there, and there will be no way to backtrack. What if I turn my back for a second and everything changes? I'm in this new place in a new life, while my old life slips from my grip... my friends feel pain, or fear, and I'm not there to protect them. Lord knows I can't protect them now, but I'm HERE, I'm here and I want everyone to be able to depend on that. If I'm halfway across the country, everything will change without me, and I wont be around to help. Or what if, by some miracle everyone stays safe and healthy and steadfast... but I am not? What if I leave and my happiness stays here? I've been blessed with so many things to be thankful for, so what right do I have to walk away from them all? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?
The thing is, I'm ACTUALLY happy. It feels like such a long time coming.
I feel like I'm on solid ground for the first time in so long.
Nothing has ever felt sturdy to me, I've never been able to rely on anyone, and now I have learned to rely on God. I have gained the self confidence to not fall back on others for protection or safety. It's like some sort of sick joke, that I'm finally growing in love and happiness, and I'm leaving. I am confident in my path here, but the future holds no guarantees. I've gone so long trying to escape from here, to reach out for bigger and better things... and suddenly my life feels like the very best thing. I'm scared to leave and lose that.... lose my security and friends and love. It's like I'll leave and everything will collapse, the world will end there, and there will be no way to backtrack. What if I turn my back for a second and everything changes? I'm in this new place in a new life, while my old life slips from my grip... my friends feel pain, or fear, and I'm not there to protect them. Lord knows I can't protect them now, but I'm HERE, I'm here and I want everyone to be able to depend on that. If I'm halfway across the country, everything will change without me, and I wont be around to help. Or what if, by some miracle everyone stays safe and healthy and steadfast... but I am not? What if I leave and my happiness stays here? I've been blessed with so many things to be thankful for, so what right do I have to walk away from them all? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?
Monday, March 2, 2009
Jigsaw
It's like it's a puzzle built just right.
I have a huge group of friends, each one with their own special quirk. Some are ditzy, some are pessimistic, some have their psycho-android moments. But so do I. And we all, in our mayhem and obscurity, make up a huge bizarre, flawed, but intricate puzzle. It's never perfect, and it's always hectic, but we fit. And I am feeling so phenominally blessed right now by every little piece of my puzzle. Even those who I don't get along with, they are a part of my world, my puzzle. My puzzle feels kind of complete.
I'm not saying my life is perfect or reached its pinacle. Lots of things suck, this isn't even one of my best days. But my puzzle continues to grow and expand, gaining more and more vibrant colors and patterns.
My life feels like a masterpiece in progress.
Photographs
[Miraculously found from Dec 9 '08]
About 20 minutes ago I was sitting in my livingroom crying and hyperventilating a bit, due to a sudden realization that my mother is dead. 4 years too late? Yes. But it happens every year. Every single year around this time I remember that my life is missing something, and my mind has never quite wrapped around that. Every once in awhile I sit down and try very hard to make sense of it all. I try to remember her face, her voice, and how she smelled, and then I tell myself that the person I am remembering is gone. But it doesn't really add up. Yes, I know my mom died, and I know everything that went along with it. The facts are all there. But a few moments ago, I was looking through my photoalbum of her, and staring at her face, and it doesn't really make sense. Because I can look deep into the eyes of the photos, and remember when the photo was real, but it's a memory, and it's like that person isn't a part of me anymore, because although the memories and feelings are there, when I look into the face, that person isn't really a person... it could just as easily be someone from a movie I've watched over and over. And that scares me. Because I love my mom and I miss her every day and I have so many memories that drive me to tears, but trying to connect the person to the events hurts too much for the connection to be made. For it to really make sense. I just really want it to make sense.
However. I don't want to end this on that note.
So I wont.
Because, I found a picture.
I was talking to Chris, and I remembered the photoalbum my Aunt gave me for christmas last year. It was something she'd been working on since my mom passed away. A photo album of pictures from the time my mom was a baby, up until a month before she died.
And I found a picture I'd never really noticed before. The last picture of my mom. It's of my mom and I... and I was clearly caught off guard and I look terrible and my mom looks tired and a little too pale. But it's my mom and I. Proof that, at some point, we sat beside eachother and our arms touched.
And there are tons of photos of my mom and I. The photo album is chock full of them. But this one is different. In this photo I am not a blond 5 year on sitting on my moms lap. I am fifteen, and I bear a pretty striking resemblance to the person I am now. My mom is beside me on the couch and you can tell that before they photo was taken, we were laughing. And not mommy and five year old girl laughing; genuine laughing. A girl on the brink of adulthood (or so I liked to believe at the time) laughing with her mother, because we were friends. It was proof that once upon a time, four years ago, our arms touched and she was my best friend.
About 20 minutes ago I was sitting in my livingroom crying and hyperventilating a bit, due to a sudden realization that my mother is dead. 4 years too late? Yes. But it happens every year. Every single year around this time I remember that my life is missing something, and my mind has never quite wrapped around that. Every once in awhile I sit down and try very hard to make sense of it all. I try to remember her face, her voice, and how she smelled, and then I tell myself that the person I am remembering is gone. But it doesn't really add up. Yes, I know my mom died, and I know everything that went along with it. The facts are all there. But a few moments ago, I was looking through my photoalbum of her, and staring at her face, and it doesn't really make sense. Because I can look deep into the eyes of the photos, and remember when the photo was real, but it's a memory, and it's like that person isn't a part of me anymore, because although the memories and feelings are there, when I look into the face, that person isn't really a person... it could just as easily be someone from a movie I've watched over and over. And that scares me. Because I love my mom and I miss her every day and I have so many memories that drive me to tears, but trying to connect the person to the events hurts too much for the connection to be made. For it to really make sense. I just really want it to make sense.
However. I don't want to end this on that note.
So I wont.
Because, I found a picture.
I was talking to Chris, and I remembered the photoalbum my Aunt gave me for christmas last year. It was something she'd been working on since my mom passed away. A photo album of pictures from the time my mom was a baby, up until a month before she died.
And I found a picture I'd never really noticed before. The last picture of my mom. It's of my mom and I... and I was clearly caught off guard and I look terrible and my mom looks tired and a little too pale. But it's my mom and I. Proof that, at some point, we sat beside eachother and our arms touched.
And there are tons of photos of my mom and I. The photo album is chock full of them. But this one is different. In this photo I am not a blond 5 year on sitting on my moms lap. I am fifteen, and I bear a pretty striking resemblance to the person I am now. My mom is beside me on the couch and you can tell that before they photo was taken, we were laughing. And not mommy and five year old girl laughing; genuine laughing. A girl on the brink of adulthood (or so I liked to believe at the time) laughing with her mother, because we were friends. It was proof that once upon a time, four years ago, our arms touched and she was my best friend.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Lessons
I had such an unbelievable time tonight. Cariboo Hill Temple warms my heart.
Also, I totally pwned at Dutch Blitz... amd left my cellphone in Dan Thiessens car.
Oh boy.
My heart was also shattered a bit today when I realized how truly malicious some people can be... I can't wrap my head around the idea that someone would set out to hurt someone they supposedly care about. I have lost such a colossal amount of respect for you, and I am not sure that could ever be repaired. I learned today from a very dear friend that my devotion stretches extremely far.... and I simply will not stand idly by while you purposely try to cause someone so dear to my heart so much pain.
Also, I totally pwned at Dutch Blitz... amd left my cellphone in Dan Thiessens car.
Oh boy.
My heart was also shattered a bit today when I realized how truly malicious some people can be... I can't wrap my head around the idea that someone would set out to hurt someone they supposedly care about. I have lost such a colossal amount of respect for you, and I am not sure that could ever be repaired. I learned today from a very dear friend that my devotion stretches extremely far.... and I simply will not stand idly by while you purposely try to cause someone so dear to my heart so much pain.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Personality Tests
So I am currently at the home of my dear friend Caitlyn Spence in Vancouver after a wonderful slumber prty extravaganza... a night of tears, hugs, laughter and The Office, we somehow came to personality tests.
Defining Moments:
Molly: *reading Caitlyns personality traits* ''INFP as a lover.... ''I don't like the word lover..
Caitlyn: Me neither! It sounds too pre marital! It does not fit into my value system!
Molly: *taking her personality test* Caitlyn? Do I relate to broken, discarded things?
Caitlyn: You totally do!
Molly: I do not!
Caitlyn: If you saw a broken, discarded puppy on the side of the road, you would totally take it in
Molly: So would you!
Caitlyn: No I would feel passionate about the injustice of the depraved person who beat the puppy... I would start a group to find the person who did it and fight them... you would take the puppy home, and not even take it to a shelter.... you would take care of it and be devoted to it for the rest of its life.
I just love Caitlyn Spence to the ends of the earth.
She is such a monumental blessing on my life.
Defining Moments:
Molly: *reading Caitlyns personality traits* ''INFP as a lover.... ''I don't like the word lover..
Caitlyn: Me neither! It sounds too pre marital! It does not fit into my value system!
Molly: *taking her personality test* Caitlyn? Do I relate to broken, discarded things?
Caitlyn: You totally do!
Molly: I do not!
Caitlyn: If you saw a broken, discarded puppy on the side of the road, you would totally take it in
Molly: So would you!
Caitlyn: No I would feel passionate about the injustice of the depraved person who beat the puppy... I would start a group to find the person who did it and fight them... you would take the puppy home, and not even take it to a shelter.... you would take care of it and be devoted to it for the rest of its life.
I just love Caitlyn Spence to the ends of the earth.
She is such a monumental blessing on my life.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tradition
So right now I've been inspired to write by Evangeline's blog. Despite having a horrendous time of it in the past few days, she still had the time to bask in the glory of God and the birth of our Savior.
Christmas has been a somewhat gloomy time for me in past years, as forementioned in previous bloggings. I think a lot of it has to do with a sense of belonging, which became all the more clear to me whilst reading Vangi's blog entry about Christmastime with her family.
My Christmases as of late have consisted of celebrations on the Mainland with my extended family. Now, I love them EVER so dearly, and they (My Auntie Colleen and Uncle Ted in particular) have served as sort of surrogate parents to me over the years. However, I am also the last of my generation in a way. My cousins Ryan and Celidh (both of which I have a very close relationship with) are both married with children of their own (Isla and Ewan to Ryan, and, most recently, little Trinity to Celidh). As much as I love and am thankful for my holidays spent with them, I don't feel like I truly belong there, the outsider in the houseful of happy families, all connected in one way or another.
And now, my immediate family, which ultimately consists of my father and I, even moreso now that my brother has Dayna, as well as a little one on the way, is severely lacking.
I have excellent memories of Christmases with my family.
My family is one of traditions, you see. For instance, my brother and I had to be asleep at a certain time on Christmas Eve. We would be awoken at midnight by one of my parents, usually my mom, to come downstairs and celebrate. Naturally, we never slept. My brother and I always got along reasonably well, but Christmas was golden. We would play games and laugh and do anything to stay awake. In earlier years, I would definitely pass out by 9 or 10, but eventually I became a real trooper.
At midnight, we would scamper downstairs, and the livingroom would be teeming with all sorts of treats, mostly appetizers, and sparkling orange juice. We would eat and sing Christmas songs, and dance to "A Very Rosie Christmas" (my mom's album of choice... any time of the year, really). We would open most of our presents at that time as well, as was the tradition on BOTH sides of my family since my parents were little.
Eventually, the party of four would wind down, and my brother and I would be ushered sleepily back upstairs, to await morning, and the gifts from Jolly St. Nick.
Those Christmas parties will always be a cherished memory, along with how seriously my brother took to his duty of placing the Angel at the top of the tree. Or my job, of moving baby Jesus, at the stroke of Midnight, from the top of the manger, where he had been residing with his Angel since the nativity went up, to his proper placing inside the manger with Mary and Joseph, the Shepherd, sheep, goat, cow and 3 smiling wisemen.
In fact, that job held such importance to me, that I would practice each day in the days and weeks leading up to Christmas, setting out the porcelin characters and rearranging them in different positions several times a day. It had to be just right for baby Jesus. They had to make a good first impression on the savior of the entire world, after all.
I took particular favour in the Wisemen. I would sit there and look at the sparkling gifts in their arms, and their bright clothing and see their smiling faces. They were so happy to see little baby Jesus. Like it was all they needed.
And little sleeping baby Jesus. No matter how young I was, he always managed to fit cradled in my two hands, perfectly serine and content on the porecelin straw.
As much as I loved the Christmases when our extended family would travel out ot visit us for a giant celebration, my most cherished Yuletide memories were the years when it was just us.
Myself, Momma, Daddy, Jacob, Baby Jesus and his adoring fans.
Christmas has been a somewhat gloomy time for me in past years, as forementioned in previous bloggings. I think a lot of it has to do with a sense of belonging, which became all the more clear to me whilst reading Vangi's blog entry about Christmastime with her family.
My Christmases as of late have consisted of celebrations on the Mainland with my extended family. Now, I love them EVER so dearly, and they (My Auntie Colleen and Uncle Ted in particular) have served as sort of surrogate parents to me over the years. However, I am also the last of my generation in a way. My cousins Ryan and Celidh (both of which I have a very close relationship with) are both married with children of their own (Isla and Ewan to Ryan, and, most recently, little Trinity to Celidh). As much as I love and am thankful for my holidays spent with them, I don't feel like I truly belong there, the outsider in the houseful of happy families, all connected in one way or another.
And now, my immediate family, which ultimately consists of my father and I, even moreso now that my brother has Dayna, as well as a little one on the way, is severely lacking.
I have excellent memories of Christmases with my family.
My family is one of traditions, you see. For instance, my brother and I had to be asleep at a certain time on Christmas Eve. We would be awoken at midnight by one of my parents, usually my mom, to come downstairs and celebrate. Naturally, we never slept. My brother and I always got along reasonably well, but Christmas was golden. We would play games and laugh and do anything to stay awake. In earlier years, I would definitely pass out by 9 or 10, but eventually I became a real trooper.
At midnight, we would scamper downstairs, and the livingroom would be teeming with all sorts of treats, mostly appetizers, and sparkling orange juice. We would eat and sing Christmas songs, and dance to "A Very Rosie Christmas" (my mom's album of choice... any time of the year, really). We would open most of our presents at that time as well, as was the tradition on BOTH sides of my family since my parents were little.
Eventually, the party of four would wind down, and my brother and I would be ushered sleepily back upstairs, to await morning, and the gifts from Jolly St. Nick.
Those Christmas parties will always be a cherished memory, along with how seriously my brother took to his duty of placing the Angel at the top of the tree. Or my job, of moving baby Jesus, at the stroke of Midnight, from the top of the manger, where he had been residing with his Angel since the nativity went up, to his proper placing inside the manger with Mary and Joseph, the Shepherd, sheep, goat, cow and 3 smiling wisemen.
In fact, that job held such importance to me, that I would practice each day in the days and weeks leading up to Christmas, setting out the porcelin characters and rearranging them in different positions several times a day. It had to be just right for baby Jesus. They had to make a good first impression on the savior of the entire world, after all.
I took particular favour in the Wisemen. I would sit there and look at the sparkling gifts in their arms, and their bright clothing and see their smiling faces. They were so happy to see little baby Jesus. Like it was all they needed.
And little sleeping baby Jesus. No matter how young I was, he always managed to fit cradled in my two hands, perfectly serine and content on the porecelin straw.
As much as I loved the Christmases when our extended family would travel out ot visit us for a giant celebration, my most cherished Yuletide memories were the years when it was just us.
Myself, Momma, Daddy, Jacob, Baby Jesus and his adoring fans.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
To Build A Home
There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don't feel alone
This is a place where I feel at home
And I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
From you
And now
It's time to leave and turn to dust
Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree as old as me
Branches were sewn by the color of green
Ground had arose and passed it's knees
By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
And I built a home
For you
For me
Until it disappeared
From me
From you
And now
It's time to leave and turn to dust
Sunday, November 30, 2008
We - For Evangeline
Standing tall, we're an unstoppable foundation
Deflecting the lies, slander and soul deflation
Anxiously waiting a divine transformation
This is our calling, our lifelong vocation
We have no need for a moments admiration
This is more than a fad, this is complete dedication
We know our purpose, and our eternal destination
We're more than just idle children, we're the new generation
We'll survive through pain, loss and manipulation
We're a wonderful design of the Lord God's creation
We are here to send out a joyous proclaimation
The wonder, the miracle, the ecstacy of salvation
Deflecting the lies, slander and soul deflation
Anxiously waiting a divine transformation
This is our calling, our lifelong vocation
We have no need for a moments admiration
This is more than a fad, this is complete dedication
We know our purpose, and our eternal destination
We're more than just idle children, we're the new generation
We'll survive through pain, loss and manipulation
We're a wonderful design of the Lord God's creation
We are here to send out a joyous proclaimation
The wonder, the miracle, the ecstacy of salvation
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Go Tell It On The Mountain
Alright, so at work today, I was bitten by the vermin of Holiday Cheer.
I'm not sure how many people know this, but I used to LOVE Christmas. I didn't care so much for the gifts, or the money or any of that sort of stuff. I loved sneaking out the back door of my bedroom and sneaking down the spiraling staircase that ran behind my bedroom (which we didn't know existed until we realized my bedroom had TWO doors) and just stand in my livingroom and watch the lights on the christmas tree twinkle. I loved the smell of cinnamon and the sound of Christmas music. I loved the bustle, and the sounds of my family laughing. I loved how we probably had the ugliest Christmas tree on the block, because it was decked out with 25 + years of sentimental decorations - ever dough wreath, candy cane reindeer, and glittered styrofoam ball my brother and I had ever made. It was quite a sight. I could've cared less about presents, to be perfectly honest. I mean, I'm not going to say I hated getting gifts or anything, that part was great. The thing is, I can't really remember 99% of the presents I've gotten over the years, but I can recall what my house looked, smelled and felt like every single year.
Then my mom died, and none of that really mattered to me anymore. My brother doesn't seem to recally care about it anymore, my dad doesn't even get a Christmas tree, and the ornaments my mom had been saving since well before my infancy went MIA when she did. For the past 3 years, it's been like Christmas didn't know how to survive without her.
Today though, as I watched people Christmas shopping for their loved ones; grandmothers asking me which picture books their granddaughter may enjoy (Paper Bag Princess for the win), little boys spending their allowance on a velveteen rabbit for their sister... or men and women alike desperately scouring the racks for cookbooks with the PERFECT Christmas dinner recipe, my teensy tiny black heart gradually warmed. I guess it's pretty lame that I was softened by mass consumerism, but it just reminded me why I loved the Holiday so much in the first place. Not because of the gifts, but because of the looks I saw on each of faces I saw today. Their compassion for their families, their joy for the season, or their heart being warmed by mass consumerism. Praise Jesus, because even though your brilliant birth is being horrifically overshadowed, you ARE love. And your love is shown on each of your childrens' faces. Your love has warmed my heart.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
An excerpt from the blog of Debora Cahn
A word about diaries. When you find your mother’s diary, don’t read it. DON’T READ IT. I tell you this from experience. I found my mother’s diary. Not really a diary, a suitcase full of stuff she wrote for a writing class, but one of the assignments was to keep a journal, and my sister said DON’T READ IT and I read it, and I’m telling you. DO NOT READ THE DIARY. If they thought you should know, they’d have told you. But more importantly, I say this to the diary keepers of the world: What the hell are you thinking? You really think nobody’s gonna find that thing? You really think that the box in the back of the closet is a secure location? That an old sweater and a pair of long underwear’ll throw everyone off the trail? You’re dead, and your poor child/spouse/best friend is tasked with going through your stuff, and they see the box with the sweater and the long underwear, and they think, I’m not going to touch that pair of long underwear, it’s clearly a box of old winter clothing, let’s just close it up again and bring it right over to Goodwill. No, people. Anyone who hasn’t had a lobotomy is going to move the long underwear aside, and find the diary, and read it. And let me tell you, that little tiny lock can be picked with a bobby pin. If you feel you must put your feelings on paper, destroy those pages once a year. If you feel you must have a way to reconnect with your younger self, run the bonfire once a decade. And when you find yourself visiting an oncologist or cardiologist with some regularity, take it as a sign to THROW OUT THE DIARIES.
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