To Walk Those Roads Again

A year ago today, I would have had my first day of lectures at Capes. I would have been exploring the grounds around Capes for the first time. I would have been doing my daily duty for the first time! I would have been having one of the best days ever.

I wish I could be back, walking those winding roads. I wish I was running under the stars, faster than them all, and feeling the crisp evening air in my lungs. I wish I was hearing Rachel talk about Jon, giggling with Deborah, and seeing Yejin dance in her crazy pajama pants. I wish I was trying out for netball!

All this said, I had a really good day here at "home" today. I learned a lot in my lectures at uni, had some great conversations with lovely people, won a pair of socks (which I actually really need, since most of mine are fully of holes), and even finished my biology lab early so I could get out and enjoy the sun.

I am glad it was sunny today, and not just for obvious reasons. For a while, feeling the heat of the sun on my skin and nearly being blinded by its brilliance took me back to those first few days at Capes, and the beauty of it all.

I felt God closer than my skin today, and that is a lovely feeling. I know he is here with me, and that brings such peace and comfort and joy, and even happiness. I am so in love with my Saviour. I only wish I could show it to Him better.

Icarus

For my English class, I have been studying poetry based on the Greek mythological character, Icarus. In summary, he is trying to escape from the island of Crete. His father is an inventor of sorts and crafts Icarus wings made of feathers and wax. Once the "flying machine" is created, the father instructs Icarus not to fly too close to the sun, or its heat will melt the wax and Icarus will go plummeting into the sea below. He also tells Icarus not to fly too low to the water, because then his wings would become weighed down and he would drown.

In the end, Icarus makes a foolish decision and flies too close to the sun and tragically plummets into a watery grave: the sea below.

A poem I found particularly striking this week was "Musee des Beaux Arts". I forget the poet's name off the top of my head...I think it's W.H. Auden. Anyway, the poem itself is really quite interesting. It's short--only two stanzas long. The first stanza discusses the life of Jesus, and how many people did not notice the miraculous things or the "dreadful martyrdom" he experienced, because their lives were too busy to truly see.

The second stanza brings Icarus into play. There's this painting by Brueghel (I think he may be Belgian), that depicts the demise of Icarus. In the painting, there are people walking around and going about their own business, and it seems as if they do not even notice Icarus' white legs, sticking out of the sea.



The point is, we pass people whose lives are falling to pieces on the proverbial street every day. Sometimes the catastrophes are obvious, and maybe we choose not to get involved or to see, because we don't like being uncomfortable. Or maybe, sadly enough, sometimes we are just truly too narcissistic to see past our own problems.

I know that the next time I feel like my world is crumbling, I want someone to notice, and to be there with me.

I hope that I can be the kind of person, with the help of Christ, who isn't afraid to be inconvenienced.

So go ahead, inconvenience me!

Magic in the Mundane

Have you ever thought about just how much can happen in one year?

One year ago, at this time, I was frantically preparing myself to go to England. The 7 months or so that I was there was undoubtedly the most amazing experience I have ever had in my life. In some ways, the adventure was idyllic: I lived in a beautiful old manor house in the English countryside, twenty minutes from the ocean. Pictures of all the beautiful things I saw, whether they be old buildings, myriads of artificats located in a museum, or the rich hue of the always well-watered grass still sit in the forefront of my mind, close to my heart.






But even closer than that are the travel stories; the grime of a city street hundreds call home, the sheer multitude of of people sleeping under the fluorescent lights of an Italian train station, myself included...

...the many times I actually got to live out my faith in real and scary scenarios. The conversations about God I had with the boy in the hostel, the lady in the airport, the German journalist...

Six weeks of travelling as an unemployed student pushed me to the extreme when it came to money. I lived in an incredibly minimalistic way. I spent night after night without a bed or a blanket, on a cold floor or under a bench. But I was nowhere close to living in poverty; I had bread to eat, I had clothes to wear.

I can't help but think that "now that I have seen, I am responsible...faith without deeds is dead".

...

In my head I think I had this fairytale view of magic...and I pictured myself, walking into a ball in a lavish gown and tiara, or receiving a distinguished honour of some variety. I dreamed that "big" moments such as these would be the most important, magical, incredible ones of my life; it made me a little depressed because I am a very average person who lives in a small town...and I know these big moments will be few and far between.



But after traipsing around Europe, and months of reflection at home, I realize that magic can be found every day. In my cheese and lettuce sandwich, a cup of coffee shared with a friend, seeing the leaves change colour, feeling a raindrop on my skin...

There is magic in the mundane.
There is magic in my life in Saskatchewan.

In England, I came to a beautiful place in my relationship with Jesus where I realized He is not only my Lord, but my Friend. My best friend. I am sad that I am not living in England anymore, to be honest. I love it there; I think part of my heart is still sitting in the courtyard of that old manor house. Despite any sadness I feel though, there is an underlying happiness; I have brought the best of England home with me: I have brought all the adventures I had with my Best Friend.

I guess what I want you to get from this is:
a) I'm sorry that I talk about England so much when I'm with you. I try to control it, but what I learned overseas has truly shaped who I am, and my life with Jesus. I feel bad sometimes, because I just can't stop talking about all these little things that happened to me, but maybe now you have a greater understanding of it all.
b) It doesn't matter where you are in the world, or what you're doing: you can experience the truly magical in your life all because of Jesus.

The best thing is that this magic is not an illusion or trick.
This Love is real.

And thus, my England adventures continue...
because He is here with me.