Still Waters

There are dirty dishes in my sink and a thick textbook that I'm supposed to be reading, not to mention e-mails and letters that need to be written and sent; I have a feeling, though, that if I don't write this now, it won't get written at all.

Life has been busy, which isn't unusual by any means (I'm still hoping to meet someone who has mastered the art of not being busy). Life has also been full and brought some unexpected difficulties, things that I haven't known how to share. But don't be alarmed, really it's just run-of-the-mill stuff that's part of growing up and learning and being stretched, but it has been a hard winter for me and I wait in faith and hope that still waters await down the path.

The biggest unexpected challenge began last fall, with a family member that has schizophrenia paranoia and hasn't been treated in many, many years moved to Vancouver. The past several months have been rather intense as we've walked through various challenges with this person and the illness. Right now things are going well, but the journey is far from over. This is not the time or place to tell much of this story, except that it has, in a new way, compelled me to a deeper trust in Jesus and a fuller understanding of what it means to "believe that he exists, and he rewards those who seek him." (Heb. 11.6) If you are interested in more of the story, feel free to message me or ask in person.

My health has gone considerably down-hill since last summer, which is rather discouraging after doing so well for about a year. Also, I'm still going through the messy adjusting stage. I never knew how much a sense of belonging contributes to mental and emotional health; I love being married to Jacques, I like Vancouver (seriously, if you want to visit, our couch is your couch!), we've made some wonderful friends, Regent is an amazing place to learn (and I don't use that word lightly), and our basic needs are taken care of, plus some. But I don't feel like I belong here, not yet anyway. Someone told me that it takes a good eighteen months, eighteen months, to feel settled in a new place. Frankly, I don't want to wait that long, but aparently I don't have the choice.

I'm learning that making new friends and becoming established in a new community takes time too. Maybe this is a blinding flash of the obvious to you, but it wasn't to me. I grew up going to a total of three churches in my life, only three, and most of the good friends I have now came about through the last two; the times that I've been away from my home and church community I've been in places of tight and continuous community (EXCEL, Bodenseehof), where you end up making life-long friends in just a few short weeks because you are around each other all the time. So, upon moving to Vancouver I learned that in real life it takes quite a bit longer.

I don't like Vancouver winters. To those who are still enduring the snow: I feel your pain, I've lived there too, but I'd take a long cold snowy winter to the endless succession of sunless and drizzly wet days here on the coast any time. AT LEAST YOU GET SUNSHINE! I didn't know that the lack of sunshine here would effect me so much. hm. Maybe I should invest in a sun lamp. And the damp cold that creeps through the windows of our apartment in a house clearly not built to be insulated against winter chill...the comforts of a cup of tea have been newly re-defined for me these past several months.

In the midst of all this, I've been auditing classes at Regent, and it's brought about transformation in the most wonderful and unexpected ways. I suppose that is what theological education should do. I've never had a post-secondary education, so the experience of taking classes at an institution of higher learning is brand new in itself, and I love it. I'm a little envious of all the "real" students, the ones who actually have an undergrad degree and can study at Regent for real, but I am quite content with what is offered me right now. It's about all I can handle with my health so bad anyway. Consequently, though, with all the new information I'm processing it's hard to sort it all out and even more difficult to give voice to it. I think it needs time (I'm beginning to notice a theme here) to sink in and become clearer as I learn more. It is good for me to remember that Mary "pondered these things in her heart" and that it was 14 years from Paul's conversion until he was summoned by Barnabas. God is not in a rush for us to spill our theological guts, as it were, and I am learning the value of letting things ruminate.

Here's a short summary of the past six months:

September - classes began, skies were sunny; it was a pretty good month.

October - The Three Sisters of the Falls (aka Jess, Heidi, and Beka) came to visit us, a most delightful event; I experienced some pretty difficult health stuff that set me back quite a bit; by this time we realized that the four courses Jacques was taking at the time was a really heavy load.

November - afore mentioned family member arrives in Vancouver and lived with us for two weeks, right smack dab in the middle of the busiest time of the term; Gracie came to visit, and by this time I was tired of the gloom and very much missed Minnesota.

December - final exams, and them we took a much needed break and flew to MN for a couple of weeks where I had a marvelous time with friends and family...it wasn't nearly long enough.

January - flew home, classes started again; most of the month our spare time was taken up in getting said family member admitted for treatment for mental health. I turned 24, which was rather anti-climactic.

February - more classes, more calls to/from doctors; both of us pretty exhausted, but Jacques only took on three courses this term, so things aren't quite so intense. Our first Valentine's Day as a married couple <3>must make it to MN in October, somehow...). Some grand friends from Edmonton visited us, and Vancouver behaved herself beautifully by providing sunshine.

And then there's March, which isn't done yet, but it's been full already. I've been seeing a doctor here, as well as a chiropractor, and have been referred to a GI specialist, in hopes of sorting out my health problems. Evenings are often filled with discussions about the near and far future, which presents a seemingly endless amount of options and possibilities. We keep hoping that we'll find the obvious choice, but so far each option seems equally good and promising and worth of pursuit, so the discussion continue and our future is still unknown.

Then there are the many little things that I savour and am grateful for: my morning cup of coffee or tea; walking through puddles in my new rainboots; the smell of books; Friday night movies with other Regent wives; eating lunches with Jacques at school; waking up on a Saturday morning to the sound of rain on our window and knowing that I don't have to get up; these things are still wonderful in the midst of rough circumstances, or perhaps their wonder is heightened because of them.

This is the part where I was planning on pulling everything together by articulating the beautiful truths of what God has been teaching me through all of this, something like "God is good" or "God is faithful"; he is those, and more, but this time I don't really have a neat and tidy closing remark, in fact most of the time when I try to sort through things my thoughts are confused and fuzzy. God is taking much longer to tell me what he is up to this time around; I can't see the thread tying everything together. He hasn't answered my questions, hasn't revealed anything profound; he only keeps reminding me of the reality that I live in, Time, and that life takes time.

He hasn't answered my questions, but he does keep saying "you must believe that I AM, and that I reward those who seek me", over and over and over again. I don't know in what way he intends to reward me, but I know he will, and I believe that when the Psalmist wrote "he leads me beside still waters" that he believed just that: that the Good Shepherd leads us by still waters. Yes, he leads through the valley of the shadow of death, but he also leads us to still waters, and so I wait in hope to be led there myself.