Strength from the struggle

Wrapped tightly in its woven, silk cocoon, a caterpillar begins to change into a butterfly.  If released too quickly from its chrysalis, it doesn't have the strength in its wings to fly.  It takes the struggle of breaking through the cocoon to move the necessary fluid into the butterfly's wings so that they will be strong enough to fly.  Without the struggle, the butterfly can't emerge from the protective shell and the timing of the release, although unknown in length, is vital to the butterfly's survival.

It's so easy to give up in the struggle.  It's tempting to wrap up in a protective cocoon and just let the world slip by unnoticed.  It's easier when I feel weak to simply give in and say that I am not strong.  I want to learn to be like the butterfly.  I want to fight through the struggle, not knowing where it will end, but knowing that something beautiful will emerge at the end.

The struggle to be disciplined, the struggle to be patient, the struggle to be faithful - all of this produces in me a strength that I don't recognize until I burst out of the chrysalis and discover that my wings are strong enough to carry me.

Wishes

Periodically I like to go back and look at my blog posts - sometimes I forget what I've written and as I'm on holidays, today seemed like a good day to do it.  I read a blog I wrote from tour and realized how true it still is.  So many wishes.  Today, it is 3 years since I moved back into my house.  When I wrote the previous post, I had 3 months left of tour.  Funny how the circumstances change, but the wishes do not.  Funny how in 2010, I was wishing that my brain would shut down enough for sleep and I'm still wishing that in 2014...I'm thinking I may be stuck wishing for that one to happen.  These are still my wishes for a new year, new season, fresh journey.

Here it is, exactly as I wrote it on August 29, 2010.

I wish that life was fair.

I wish that life was balanced.

I wish that I understood the small things.

I wish that I could tell my mind to stop thinking long enough for sleep.

I wish that my children would know they are loved. By me.

I wish that I would know my children love. Love me.

I wish that the world was just a little bit smaller.

I wish that the world was just a little bit bigger.

I wish that I understood the generosity of many.

I wish that I understood the ignorance of few.

I wish that I could glimpse the future.

I wish that I could change the past.

I wish that love wasn't so elusive.

I wish that hope would be longer felt.

I wish that joy could be everlasting.

I wish that emotions could be more controlled.

I wish that I could be more understanding.

I wish that communication wasn't so demanding.

I wish that understanding wasn't so hard.

I wish that forgetting could be easier.

I wish that remembering could be longer.

I wish that endings didn't happen, but that beginnings still came.

I need to get away...from myself

I think too much.  I think about what I said, what I didn't say, what I'm glad I said but wish I had said differently, what I did, what I didn't do, what I wish I had done differently.  Seriously - I need a vacation from myself.  I need a break from my brain which refuses to shut off.  I need a break from the constant dialogue in my head.  I don't know how to make it go away.  I keep my thoughts very close to myself - partially because I'm not very good at articulating them, partially because I find it hard to share what is going on in my mind because after I do, I'll think about it for days.

I'm on vacation from work and although it has in many ways been wonderful, I'm going back to work as tired as I was when I left.  Totally defeated the purpose of this vacation.

I wish I knew what to do to make this constant thought process stop.  It's going to drive me insane.

I Love Airports

I love airports - no really, I do.  I love going to pick people up and I love being the one greeted both going and coming, but that's not what makes me love them most.

I love the energy and emotion that an airport has.  It is almost tangible.  Excitement, nerves, pain, love, joy, frustration, happiness - all mixed into one place.  I love watching people at the airport - especially a large airport like Chicago or Newark (clarification - I don't like the Newark airport, but I do like people watching there). 

Airports can be so frustrating.  They are an exercise in self-control and integrity.  They can also be a place of great adventure - just think, you are getting on a plane and going thousands of kilometres and you barely have to do anything (except maybe sprint to catch a connection because you've been delayed, but that little bit of exercise never hurt anyone).  I've had my share of delays, lost luggage, cancelled planes and cranky flight attendants, but the joy that simply being at the airport brings me is worth all that - especially when you know that at the end of the flight there is a grand adventure, a wonderful friend, and a new place to explore.  I love that whether you are the passenger or the host that you contribute to the energy of the airport. 

I remember my first flight as I made my way to Quebec, barely a graduate from high school and embarking on my first adventure.  I remember coming home and crying the minute I saw my mom.  I remember the relief I felt when I arrived in Vienna and saw my checked baggage on the carousel.  I remember saying goodbye to the Aunties of Choir 35 in Washington, DC.  Our tears made the energy of that airport somber for a brief moment amidst all the bustle.  I remember Alesha picking me up the first time I went to Michigan to visit and our excitement made the airport come alive.  I remember the frustration of sitting on a plane in Chicago bound for Africa and the sorrow that came from that cancelled flight. I'm grateful for the joy of meeting a friend at home whom I hadn't seen in so long and loving the sight of her coming down the steps.  I'm glad I have the memories of meeting my grandma at the airport and her excitement to be in the freezing cold for Christmas because it meant being with us.

I can't wait for next airport adventure. It might be a long journey or a short one, but I know I'll enjoy it simply because it will be at the airport :)

An Emotional Blizzard

I wish to have a switch that I could use to turn off my emotions whenever I have need of a moments break from all the things twisting around in my head and my heart.  Emotions are a tricky part of life and lately mine have been swirling around like a cold Saskatchewan blizzard with a ferocious wind.  And just as I would like a break from the Saskatchewan cold, I would like a break from them.  The problem is that you can't jump on a plane to a tropical vacation spot to get away from them.  You have to plow through them and hope that your snow tires have enough traction to move you through the drift.

I don't know how to reign in these matters of the heart.  At what point do you finally say to yourself, enough is enough?  Is it possible to be stronger than the pull your emotions put you through to finally get to the other side? What if the problem is more so that you don't want to fight the emotion but you just want to give in to it?  Then what?  Then you've got a big problem...that's what.

Remembering

Hugs.  Butterfly kisses.  Story time.  Walks and talks. Hats. Giggles. Concerts. Bus rides. Hosties. Home. Playtime. Tears. Hard love. Starbucks. Target. New places. Dance parties. Skip Bo. Dutch Blitz. Church stays. Ferry rides. Alaska. Rest stops. eMPie. Singing.  Hotels. Devotions. Adventures. Love notes. Colouring. Movie nights. Forts. Camp. Mirembe.

It's been 3 years since my tour life came to a close.  Strange how far away yet close it feels.  I don't dwell on tour like I did when I first came home, but everyday, I look at the picture of my kids and feel a little twinge of homesickness. 

I found this the other day and realized it is the perfect description of what I feel.  My tour home is a place I cannot return, yet find myself sometimes longing for.  My kids are becoming young adults and we'll never be together again the way we were for the 15 months we spent on the bus in constant community.

I miss those months.  Not with the desire to return to another tour, but to have my ACC family back on a bus together just one more time to make just one more memory.  I wish to sit with Reagan and Benson and read a book.  I want to play one more game of Skip Bo with Esther.  I want to listen to Deborah's jokes and hear her laugh.  I want to hear Ritah and Peace singing to their CD players.  I want to talk with Faith about life and love and all things difficult.  I want to see what treasures Alex and Rogers have stuffed in their pockets and what the plan is for them.  I want to listen to Ivy and Stella's stories. I want one more drawing from Jonah.  One more time to cook with James.  One more time to dance with Ruth. One more time to walk with Grace. One more play time with Derrick. One more moment to tell Brenda I love her. One more host family with Charity who made laughs abundant.  One more talk with Brian who is so insightful. One more hug from Priscillah who always needed just one more hug. One more love note from Naomi. I want to answer all of Eunice's crazy questions. I want to hear John sing so beautifully during the concert.

There will always be a little bit of longing for the moments on the bus.  I've been off tour longer than I was on it, but the imprint left on my heart will always outlast the time, the distance and the changes.

Seasons Change

This Christmas will be 3 Christmases since my kids returned to Africa.  I can't believe it has been that long.  I just finished writing Christmas cards for them.  Seven of my babies are moving into secondary school.  Such a season of change.  They aren't babies anymore.  They are young men and women.  It is so hard to picture them as that.  When Alesha and I visited a year and a half ago, they had grown and changed so much that my mind can't even fathom how different they are now. 

I wish I could sit down with each of them and have a long chat about school, faith, life and growing up.  Kids in Africa and kids here aren't that different.  They share struggles and dreams, they have hopes for the future and problems with friends.  I'd like to shelter my kids from having to deal with the heartache, but I can't. 

So, as always, I will lift up my prayers and treasure them in my heart for my kids.  It is in these moments that I miss them the most.  It is in these moments that I miss the laughs, the conversation and most of all, their hugs. 

Faith and Stella with Uncle Tony.
Stella used to be "as tall as Uncle's leg".