oh, little white desk.

A couple of weeks ago as I was driving into our cul-de-sac, a pretty little white desk sitting curbside at our neighbour's house caught my eye. I peeled into our driveway, grabbed David, and nearly ran over to the house a few doors down to see if I could snag this baby for myself. Ever since school ended for the semester, I've had just a bit of time on my hands. So I read design blogs. And dream about things to fix and distress and repaint and create. Incessantly, actually. (A good indication that you're officially obsessed is when you literally fall asleep at night thinking about colour schemes and refinishing techniques.) So you can imagine my delight when the owners of this cute-as-a-button little piece of furniture happily told me that she was all mine. I think I may have actually clicked my heels together. Free? And with so much character? My design dreams were finally coming true!

David and I and chatted a few minutes longer with our neighbours until he and the neighbour's son decided to carry the desk down the street to our backyard. Now I didn't mention that our dog, Jasper, had tagged along with us and was up until this point, happily (and obediently) prancing around and enjoying his off-leash freedom. As David lumbered away with the desk, he asked me to grab Jasper because he saw another dog coming toward us. Part gleeful and high on my new treasure, and part distracted by my conversation with the neighbour lady, I half-heartedly grabbed hold of Jasper's leash, thinking I had a good grip on him. Um, nope. Turns out the little lovemuffin had the hots for this cute Golden Retriever and literally bounded toward her. Sad part is I was still attached to him. My fingers were caught under his collar, my flip-flopped feet weren't fast enough to keep up with his ever increasing speed, and I just didn't have time to think of an escape route! Jasper kept running, I kept dragging, and finally my fingers unlatched and I flew threw the air, landing - get this - face-down on the pavement. Yes, my friends, I literally flew. And yes, face-down. All I heard were gasps from the neighbour, her grown daughter, and the owner of this cursed Golden Retriever, who by this time, had a front row seat to my personal little gong show. "Are you OK? Your poor knees! Oh my goodness, grab the dog!" I heard, as I lay face-planted on the road. I flipped over on to my back so that I didn't look like I was dead or something, but that only elicited more consolations - my personal favourite being from my loving hubby from way down the street, arms full o' desk: "Hun, are you OK? What happened?!" I jumped up, awkwardly trying to feign off embarrassment and murderous feelings toward my dog, brushed off my hands and knees, and used this humiliating moment as a sign that I needed to "discipline my dog" and head home.

To quote my head-shaking Italian grandpa: "Mamma mia." I mean, I've had embarrassing moments but this was one of those only-happens-in-the-movies kind of things. Initially I was pissed at Jasper, but really, it wasn't his fault for following his instincts. And honestly, it could have been so much worse. Miraculously, I only scraped the palms of my hands which, for the record, are excellent fall-breakers should you ever find yourself needing to use them for that purpose. Also, if they're anything like me, I'm positive the neighbours had a good laugh about the whole sordid scenario later on. In fact, I hope they did, because I'm still giggling about it. (Is it wrong that I find people getting non-critically injured funny?) And let's be honest, I got a pretty sweet deal out of the whole thing. A free antique desk for the very low price of one pride-snuffing nose dive in front of a bunch of strangers? Sure! Why not?

As I refinish this little work of art, time will tell whether or not she was, in fact, worth the all the trouble. Keep ya posted.

on forgiveness.

I had the privilege of taking an amazing course at school a couple weeks of ago, entitled Theological Issues in Counselling. Judging by the name of the course, you might not be feeling too jazzed - but the actual content of the class revolved around forgiveness. Forgiveness as a concept, and how it relates to our faith and our practice as therapists - and ultimately, as human beings.

The professor arranged for guest speakers to come in each day and share their stories of forgiveness with us. From a survivor of domestic violence to a former Northern Ireland anti-terrorist police officer to an advocate for restorative justice, we heard deep, impassioned stories of brokenness and forgiveness. But without a doubt, the most impactful story I heard was shared by a beautiful woman who had survived an attempted murder - at the hands of her brother.

At fifteen years old, Karen* had awoken in the middle of the night to her father shaking her and screaming at her to get up. She looked around, confused and disoriented, to see that her house was engulfed in flames. She and her dad escaped the house and when Karen woke up the next morning in the hospital, she was shattered with news that would forever change her life. The authorities told her that during the night, three men had broken in to her family home, beat her and her parents to the point of death, and sadly, had succeeded in murdering her mother. When they finished, they doused the house with kerosene and lit a match, hoping to absolve any evidence of their crime. Karen was then told that her brother and his two friends had been arrested in connetion with the crime. She spent the next six months in hospital recovering, and a few months later, she was miraculously back at school, trying to reorient herself to life once again.

A few years later, Karen was newly married and found herself emotionally revisiting that painful, life-altering experience. She started seeing a therapist and decided that she wanted to forgive her brother. In fact, she had already been in contact with him through letters (he of course was in prison at this point), and her urge to be free from the brokenness her family had experienced compelled her to seek reconciliation. Over time, she ended up connecting with restorative justice consultants (an incredible and healing service provided to victims and offenders - check out www.aarja.org for an idea of the work they do) and eventually met with her brother in person to tell him she loved and forgave him.

Clearly, this story baffles most minds. What would compel anyone to forgive the person who tried to murder them? Who actually murdered their mother? To reach out in love toward the very person who intentionally victimized you and stole from you one of the most important people in your life? Karen described that forgiveness, for her, became the only option. She certainly suffered physically, emotionally, and psychologically (and still does, to some extent) - but on a spiritual level, God touched her and spoke to her about letting go, moving forward, receiving new life. Forgiveness was her act of obedience and faith.

You should know that during this entire testimony, Karen had two of what I assumed to be friends or family members sitting at the sideline. I imagined she brought them for moral support, a familiar and safe presence during a vulnerable and raw time of sharing. When she concluded her presentation, she introduced her entourage to the class - one, her adopted daughter, and the other, her brother. Yes, that brother. You can imagine the stunned silence that filled the room when we all realized that the very man who caused her pain and suffering was sitting right before us the entire time. Victim and perpetrator, side by side. The emotion was palpable. Tears streamed down many students' faces, mine included. I realized at that very moment that never before in my life had I witnessed such a tangible act of mercy and love. Ever. You hear of these great stories of forgiveness, people choosing to see beyond their pain and create something meaningful out of it, but how rarely we see it up close and personal. It was an intense and life-changing moment for me.

I've been thinking a lot about Karen's story and my story and how forgiveness (or a lack thereof) impacts my world, my vision, my heart. I don't have all the answers - I know that life is messy and complex and rarely black or white. We all have our scars and could probably tell a story or two of how we've been wronged or damaged, how it's changed us for good. All I know is that the choice is always ours as to how we respond. For me, I'm aware that I survive only by God's grace - without that constant stream of Forgiveness and Love running through my life, where would I be? Aware that God has forgiven me and continues to love me despite my failings, foibles, and faithlessness, I'm left with the question of how, then, could I not forgive others?

It's not easy living a life that embodies forgiveness. It's more of a journey than a one-time-all-is-well decision, I think. It takes practice, perseverance, courage, and trust. I certainly have my hang-ups and soft spots, and I'm so thankful for people like Karen who show the world that the seemingly impossible is, in fact, possible with Jesus.



*Karen's real name was changed out of respect, since I didn't obtain her permission to tell her story here. However, she does do public speaking and if you're interested in finding out more about her story or inviting her to speak at an event, let me know and I'll forward you her contact information.

plans.

Life is a whirlwind. OK, I should clarify: my life has been a whirlwind. After a quick and exhausting (but totally smooth!) move in the dead of prairie winter (not highly recommended), we're back home from the Winnipeg Adventure of 2010. Short-lived, yes. But long-lasting effects? Most definitely.

In some ways, we're still reeling from our time away - so much happened that challenged us, angered us, frustrated us, and drew us closer to a faithful-though-everything-fails-us God. It was hard, but it was good. Kind of like exercise or eating cooked carrots. Not the most pleasant of experiences, but good-for-you-anyway. The most predominant thing on my mind as I process it all, though, has been the re-realization that life sometimes just doesn't go the way you plan. "Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails" is a verse in Proverbs that has been swimming around in my head for weeks. Our plan when we arrived in Winnipeg was so logical and practical and dare I say, boring. We thought A + B = C, but in reality, time proved us otherwise and we were stumped and stupefied. I believe with all my heart that God is loving and faithful, so I can now look at the disappointments and what we might falsely judge failures in our lives with a sense of hope, purpose, and gratitude. Of course I still sometimes wonder why certain things happened when they did, detail for detail - but I'm satisfied knowing that God remained constant to us in the midst of it all and that deep things were and are happening in us still because of what we experienced.

A teacher I really respect once said: "Never trust in what God is doing - always trust His nature." Isn't that just so true? We can never predict what God is going to do in our lives - and, as David and I learned during the past few months, this is true even when we act in faith and obedience to His leading. My circumstances will change; that is a sure-as-hell inevitability. But God never will. He's always good, always faithful, always patient, always driven by love, always unpredictable. I guess that's the risk we take in loving Him and letting Him love us, isn't it?

So here we are, back home, back into the swing of things, excited and grateful and wondering how God is going to move in the next few months. I think it's safe to say, though, that I'm quite content to just bask in His goodness for a while, enjoying the good things He's given us, but even more, the promise of His fierce and unpredictable love - regardless of the details.

optimism or hope?

Thanks to my Masters courses and recent personal experiences, I've been reflecting a lot lately on the idea of hardship and suffering. I think that when you have some pretty tough stuff thrown at you, it's natural to start to think about the why's and how's and what-if's a lot more often than you do when everything is smooth sailing. Throughout the past few weeks, I've finally been able to admit how hard it is for me to let myself experience my brokenness. There's this little voice inside me that says I should have it all together, especially now that I'm in this position of learning how to professionally counsel hurting people. That if I expect to be a strong force in this world, an advocate for the broken, a ray of light in a dark room, I should have my shit together. (Translation: be perfect.) Right? No, not right. Not right at all. When I listen to that voice, all it does for me is remind of how much I'm failing to attain this impossible standard, fuels the pressure to somehow live up to it, and denies the rawness of my experience. And I think I'm finally at the end of my quickly fraying rope trying to do that.

My gut tells me that when it really comes down to it, all I want is wholeness. This isn't crazy or unrealistic or some fantastic pipe dream. This is actually what God intended for us when He made us in His perfect image, and obviously we're not living in that place. We're broken, we're affected by the hurtful actions of others, and heck, we're trying our best to make do and even rise above it all. But it doesn't somehow make us immune to pain. We're broken people in a beautiful world held hostage by sin. I'm really drawn to the story of Job these days -- especially the part when Job loses everything good in his life and rather than hiding his feelings about it, shouts out to God and tells him just what he thinks about this bunk. I love even more the part when God listens and loves him and gives everything back -- and more. God knows He's God. He has no reason to be insecure when we question or doubt Him, and I absolutely love that He's OK with our honesty. In fact, I think He loves it.

And the funny thing is, when I've opened myself up to honesty, both to God and to myself, I feel this wave of hope come over me. Because I've freed myself from trying to be optimistic and "spiritual" and only half-truthful with myself, and instead chosen to see the promise of God alive in my story. So I'm going to let myself wade around in this for a while, giving myself permission to be human and recognizing that to feel the mess is to live. But I'm also going to remember to hope. Because Jesus has already bought my freedom and victory. And while I may not see it in its fullness this side of heaven, I will see it one day. That's hope.

jasper.

If you read the title of this post, you've just read the name of our new dog! Jasper is a big old bumbling mess of legs and slobber, but it's amazing how much we already love him.

Back in August, David contacted a Weimaraner rescue society to inquire about any dogs that were in need of adoption. At the time, there weren't any, so we kind of put the idea out of our minds. Well, I did at least. (I'm learning that the secret inner life of my husband is actually quite active, and when his wheels get turning, there's no stopping him!) A few weeks ago, to our surprise, the woman from the rescue society emailed to tell us there was a four-year old male in need of a new home, as his owner was recently diagnosed with lupus and was unable to take care of him anymore. She said that because of the urgent nature of the situation, if we wanted him, we'd have to take him the next day. I panicked -- we weren't ready for a dog! We hadn't even asked our landlord for permission. Plus, I just couldn't commit to a dog being dropped off at our doorstep in twelve hours. Reluctantly, we said we couldn't take him that soon, so the woman told us she was sending him to a kennel a couple of hours away until the breeder was back from her holiday. (Apparently it's protocol to return your dog back to its breeder if you're unable to care for it.) It would be our responsibility to chat with the breeder later and discuss whether or not this was going to work for all of us.

About two weeks passed and we still hadn't heard from the breeder. To be honest, I sort of figured it wouldn't work out, maybe partly because of my apprehension (or pessimism) toward getting a dog. Then last week, I arrived home after class to a very happy husband who told me that the dog was ours and all we needed to do was drive out to the breeder to pick him up! As much as I hesitated on the inside, the excitement on David's face was just too adorable for me to fight this... After all, I did tell him months ago that I'd let him get a dog if we ended up moving to Winnipeg. ;) So, off to the country we went.

And now we have member number three of the McKay family, Jasper the Weimaraner. It's been both fun and frustrating getting used to this new transition in our life. He's a great dog -- so sweet and friendly and honestly just wants your lovin' ALL the time. He's trained already, which is a serious bonus when you're a new dog-owner, and apart from this weird thing he does when he's excited where he "smiles" (aka. shows his teeth and chomps at the air), he's actually the perfect dog. He definitely challenges my need for space, though, because when I get home and all he wants to do is play and be rubbed, I have to really step outside myself to give him that nurturing. Crazy that a dog can teach you a lesson about selflessness, huh? But he does. And I foresee him continuing to teach me that lesson over and over again during the next few years he's with us.

The neatest part of this whole story is that Jasper has been David's dream dog for a long time, but one we always knew we wouldn't be able to afford or be willing to fork out the money for, for that matter (these dogs cost at least $800!). And here we are, freely given this amazingly sweet, purebred Weimaraner. God is gracious, even in the small things.

newness.

I came across a gorgeous site that offers the cutest free blog backgrounds and I just couldn't help myself. It felt a little bit like blogger heaven, to be honest. (Does that sentence make me a nerd? Probably.) So, what do you think? Sometimes it's nice to spruce things up a bit, and I think my life could use a little colour these days.

So here's to a new design and hopefully the start of a new season!

august.

So it's official: I am the worst blogger ever. We've been in Winnipeg for almost six weeks now, and believe me when I say there has been plenty to write about, but you know that paralyzed feeling you get when everything seems to happen at once and you just don't quite know how to process it all? That's been me.

OK, here's my moment of truth: It seems that ever since we set foot on prairie soil, nothing much has gone according to what we hoped for or expected. It's been one long month of rejection, frustration, second-guessing, and disappointment. Getting here was already a stretch for our emotional and spiritual muscles, but after believing everything would work out as soon as we took the leap and instead, watched it all fall apart, well, that was just too much. A lot of tears, a lot of doubt, and a whole lot of missing home was the stuff August was made of. We assumed we'd find a place to live within a couple of weeks at most, but after applying to several apartments and being told we didn't qualify, we started to feel pretty discouraged. We also assumed that the job David had lined up with a local church would be the place where he was meant to serve, but after a pretty horrible and hurtful experience, we found out otherwise, and again, more discouragement. We took a few good hard hits this month, my friends, and to be honest, we're still reeling from the whole thing.

So all this to say, it's been one hell of a month! It's been uncomfortable and unsettling and frustrating and so not what we planned, but thank God He's giving me perspective and the chance to just step back from it all, take a deep breath, and see His goodness. Because this is the good I see:

When no one would accept us as tenants, my best friend's dad (God bless his soul), bought us a house so we could rent from him instead. You heard me. The man bought us a house. When we thought we'd be spending the next two years in a cramped and smelly apartment, we now have our very own cozy little home with a backyard and a sundeck and a garage and a mailbox. My friend's dad saw a need he knew he could fill, and he filled it. God's goodness.

When we had nowhere to live for four whole weeks, these same parents welcomed us into their home, fed us their food, included us at family dinners and at the family cabin, not at all expecting we'd be there as long as we were but making sure we knew we were welcome. God's goodness.

When we were discouraged and missing home and desperately needing community, my best friend Heather and her husband made us brunch, listened over coffee, showed us the city, and welcomed us into their own friendships. God's goodness.

I can't lie and say that I haven't questioned God's purpose in all of this. I've definitely had it out with Him and wondered why this has to be so hard, so impossibly and annoyingly hard, why we didn't just choose to stay home where things were safe and familiar and maybe stagnant, but comfortable. But then I remember this prayer I've prayed for most of my adult life, the one that goes something like this: "God, do something deep in my life. Take me places that aren't ordinary or easy for easy's sake. I want to know you more." And then I think, well, what did I expect?

The truth is, while I don't want to be obsessed with comfort and familiarity, I probably am. I tell God I want an unordinary life, but when the unordinary happens, I'm angry and I feel jilted. Of course it's human, and I can't expect much more of myself (ah, the classic struggle of the perfectionist!), but I can make the effort to see beyond the circumstance. That I can do.


In other news, yesterday was my first official day at grad school. Can you believe it? There's another example of God's goodness! It was good and slightly overwhelming but at some point during my fifth hour of theology class, it hit me. I'm doing this. I'm actually seeing the dream come to fruition, and it's good! That in itself makes the pain of the past few weeks worth it - almost...