The Exclusive Insider Story

In Isaiah 55 (a book in the Old Testament of the Bible), God says:

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts, and my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts."

Of all the Scriptures that came to mind to describe the incredible work God has done in my life in the last couple of months, this one, by far, best summarizes what He has done.

If you know me well enough, you can attest to this single journey being a difficult one for me. I have not enjoyed my independence as a thirty-something as I once did in my twenties. The desire to find the best friend that never leaves had begun to grow weighty in the last five years and I was struggling with the idea of compromising. Maybe there wasn't a "perfect match" for me as I had once thought. Maybe even my marriage would require me to be a pawn!

Such were my thoughts just six weeks ago when a new and dear friend stopped me mid-sentence during my latest lament and said, "I have the most perfect man for you."

Oh dear, here we go again,  I thought cynically. I just didn't trust people's match making skills anymore. But she persisted despite my resistance and proceeded to describe to me a man of such God fearing character and humility and chivalry that I got teary. Abba, does such a man even exist anymore these days? I speculated hesitantly.

I didnt give her the go ahead to "set us up" as she wanted to, that night. But two days later she texted to ask if I'd considered any further.

Had I?!?!?!?!

Had I even stopped entertaining the possibilities???? The thought frightened me greatly. Another risk? Another leap of faith?
And whats more, from the very very little shed told me about this "Dan" (shed let his name slip) I deducted that I might actually know him.

Could it be possible that he was the same Daniel that I grew up going to school with? From Kindergarten to high school Graduation?

Surely that seemed too far fetched. Even worse, I felt there was no way that IF it was him, he would ever want to date me, because I had been such a horrible snob in high school. I racked my brain trying to think of times Id interacted with him in the thirteen years of school. I think I had five stories. What an embarrassment! And though I know I've changed since high school, I still felt apprehensive and uncertain.

My friend nearly jumped through the phone when I guessed that this best friend of her husbands was actually the same young man Id known for so many years! To her it was even more clarification that God was at work. For me, it just added uncertainty.

So, on Sunday March 8th, when I got a text at 8am from an unknown number, I responded with some apprehension and a small amount of trepidation. Could this really work? ... Just give him a chance Melissa! One date is not going to hurt you!...

The thoughts wrestled in my head. Unfolding before me in the screen of my iPhone were the inner workings of a man so incredibly similar to me in all the ways I wanted from a companion; and all the ways contrasting that I needed to bring about balance and stability in my flighty, dramatic, emotional self!

We talked on the phone on Monday night.... My friend - the one who set us up - told me only a couple hours before our first date that Daniel is the most humble man shed ever met, and that I just needed listen to his heart - catch the essence of what he was sharing by hearing past his words.
So, I did.


We went on our first date on Tuesday. He took me for Thai and bowling! So much fun. I hadnt been bowling in years and forgot how much I missed it, and the shoes too!




I know it sounds cheesy, but from that day forward, the rest is really history. The day after our first date, I had a presentation for one of my online classes, so it was the only day we didnt see each other. But since then, we have seen each other every single day.
It took me less than a week to be completely positive that this man was truly everything that I ever wanted and so so so much more. He is my knight, my dream come true.


I have absolutely fallen for his passion for people. It equals mine - something I never believed was possible. He loves to travel, and is eager to do ministry and missions: - the two things that make my heart beat faster.


He proposed exactly two weeks after we started talking, and on Thursday, when we said "I do" we had been together for a whopping 37 days! Ironic? We are both 37 right now!


We share a favorite number: 16. And for as long as I can remember, my favorite day of the year has been April 16th (June 16 and Oct 16 being close second and third). When we started talking about getting married, I was in giddy glee to discover he wasnt looking to wait six months. We were on our way to meet his parents, and he was talking April! I giggled with delight. Could this be true? Is there really another person in the world as impulsive and crazy as me?!?!?!


It seems so! God is so good.


I know those little details dont make a marriage. They dont even define Gods will. But what they do for me, is make me laugh and recognize that God looks at all these little details and cares about them. Had we got married on a different day and had we waited until Daniel was 38 instead, our relationship would not have been any stronger or weaker because of it. Yet, our Father in heaven was willing to indulge my little idiosyncrasies, just to put a giddy smile on my face.


Look out world, here we come



We are planning receptions in Edmonton (June 13), Ottawa and Nova Scotia (dates pending) this summer.
I cant wait for everyone I know to meet this man who has captured my heart!

Thank you for your support in this long awaited ending to my single woman saga.

Heres to the sequel!

I Wish Life Had Easy Answers....

...If it did, then it is very likely that I would not be sitting here in front of my computer screen on a Saturday night, eyes wrung dry from crying for the last week, body simply worn through from lack of sleep and emotions numb.

But, as we all know, life does not have easy answers. And if it did, Im not sure we would be better off. Would we learn anything? Gain anything? Be any better off? Would I be the person I am today if life had given me all that I had ever asked for or dreamed of?

Though I know the answer is NOT A CHANCE, it still doesnt make the events of this last week any easier to cope with. Knowing that its the tough times that refine us and give us a chance to better reflect the God of Glory within us, certainly does not make it any less painful to endure them.

For the sake of privacy of those who are part of my pain, I cannot actually give detail to the events of this last week and the struggles I've had to face.  I dont want to point a finger at anyone, or make reference to the choices made for good or bad. Besides, the last thing I want to do is to make this a comparison game where you listen to my sad story, and then tell me yours and we swap tears back and forth. That wont really get us anywhere in the end anyway.

But, as I've shut a lot of people out this past week, and have also leaned heavily on others, I do want to at least share my pain with you. I find comfort in words. In processing out loud, on paper, and pulling back the covers on the despair that seeks to swallow me if I dare stay silent. The Bible says that we are Overcomers by the Blood of the Lamb (Jesus) and the Word of our Testimony (the story of my pain).

So, in order that I might strive to overcome, and in order that you might one day, tomorrow or years from now, glean hope and strength and companionship from my own struggles, I offer you a view behind the scenes.

In the last couple of weeks I've been in Ottawa on "vacation" visiting friends and catching up with some special people. I have in the past been cautioned about my vulnerability to stretch myself too thin, but I do not know how to manage that well. People are my passion. Every person I know holds value and worth to me. I want to be able to pour into everyone as much as I can. I tend to hold this mindset that if I dont do all I can do for everyone, I will somehow fail .

"Fail who? Fail what?" As if God has this ridiculous expectation on me to do His job.  That is, loving the whole world.

But I am still often bound by this audacious self imposed expectation. I want people to see the love of Christ through me and have them know that they are so very very important. They are worth His very life!

Yet, then, as is the human tendency when we try to play god ourselves, I get tired. I get irritable, and cranky. I become short with people and less kind in my responses. I grow weak and tend to miss opportunities, or I get so worn out that the only choice I have is to let people down by cancelling. I feel I fail at showing people that I love and care for them because I havent taken care of myself first. Thats when I start to see that this "messiah complex" is not really helping anyone. Im not god - and thank goodness Im not.

In the last week, Ive been thrown several curve balls. Not just one or two, but three, four, five; one after the other. There seems to be no end. And in the midst of trying to balance my visits and seeing people and pouring into them,  I find that Im weary and broken. I cant hold it together anymore. An honest confession: if I couldve hid in bed all this week, I wouldve. I just didnt want to deal with my own life; with the cards Id been dealt. They arent the cards I want. "Hey God, can we do a re-deal?"

His answer.... another curve ball, again, this morning!

And that is where I am this evening. Looking at the cards in my hand, replaying the curve balls thrown to me throughout the week past. And Ive thought a lot about Robin Williams too. And Ive wondered about the darkness he mustve faced in order for him to take his own life. When I first heard the news, I was heartbroken. Didn't anyone tell him about Jesus?

Because Jesus can heal anyone.

Jesus can heal any broken situation, any broken dream, any broken heart.....

Hmmmm....Wait.One.Second. Do I really believe that?

Its interesting how Im so quick to preach that for someone elses struggle. I can look at anything anyone else is going through, and KNOW with assured certainty that Jesus CAN solve their hurt, pain, dilemma and crisis.
But, how am I letting Jesus infiltrate my darkness? How am I allowing Him to lift ME up out of the dirt, out of this muddy dreary place Ive fallen to? Have I chosen to let Jesus give me hope despite all Ive faced this week?

Friends, I might not be able to see each of you on this visit. Or on the next. Or, ever again. I might not be able to drive home to Nova Scotia in your dark moment and give you the hug I long to give. I might not be able to fly myself across the world to give you the courage to face the accusations against you. I might not be able to restore the thing that mattered most to me.
Life restricts me from being who I want to be for you. I cant be your savior. And I realize youve never asked me to. But for some bizarre reason, I feel like Im suppose to solve all your problems, rather than point you to my Savior Himself.
I want to take away your pain, take away your struggle. I want to make life easier for you, because I know what it is to struggle through ugly messiness.

 How did I get to this place that Ive missed sight of pointing you to the Answer and have instead tried to be the answer?

I end this post by asking for your forgiveness. I want you to see Jesus in me, and find your Source in Him alone; not in me. I want you to turn to Him and call out to Him, and find Him sitting with you in your loneliness and in your ache. If I  could, I would be there with you. But I dont want to replace Him.
I know myself well enough to admit I cant do anything to help you. I can only offer you a listening ear, and point you to the very one, the only one, who can pull you up and put you on your feet again. Ive struggled all week to put this truth into practice. And I know that its true, or else I wouldnt be sitting here tonight able to promise you that He is for real. He can actually do all He says He can!

Earlier in the week when I was having a particularly lonely day, a friend of mine sent me something I wrote several months ago. You might have seen it on Facebook, because it was a huge encouragement for me. But regardless, I close by reaffirming what I once wrote when life was a whole lot less painful. The words are still true. And they still offer me hope and comfort. May they do the same for you:

       A wise young woman, who I admire greatly, once wrote, "...living alongside Christ is not always easy. There are days I want to scream at Him and if He were near enough, Id beat my fists on His chest. But I delight in knowing that not only will He continue to embrace me in these moments, I would never want to be anywhere else than in His arms."

Friends, when all is said and done, here is the last word: worship in reverence the one True God...(Ecc 12:13).

Bless you. 

Messy Community

I dont know about you, but sometimes when its been a long time since I've spoken to a friend, I tend to forget just how good of a friend they are. And then, one day, when we finally DO reconnect, I wonder why I ever allowed the time and the distance to keep us apart.

We all need community. We need friends. I truly believe we were created for fellowship and relationship and to be amongst people. Maybe not all  the time around people, but to live along side others and not keep them at arms length.

Coming back to Nova Scotia has caused me to see that more clearly than I ever really realized.
If you know me at all, you know I have friends all over the world. And true friends that I do my best to stay in touch with. But Nova Scotia has the highest concentration of close friends than any other place I've ever lived.  And as such, I feel I am already being drawn into the community.

Let me quickly clarify that when I talk of community, I dont actually mean a physical location; as we sometimes use the word interchangeably with neighborhood.  I mean a network of people that live life alongside one another; geography aside.
My parents have an incredibly network of people in Edmonton that I was raised in. A privilege if you ask me, because its now a third-generation community.  Its a major part of who I am, because I was brought up alongside so many other families. It takes a village to raise a child has a lot of merit for me.

However, this sort of community is not perfect. In fact, I have come to believe, that it actually finds strength in its imperfection. Its through the struggle to escape the cocoon that a butterfly completes its transformation. If the cocoon was not so difficult to break free from, a butterfly's body would not be properly formed and it would never be able to fly. The fluid that has amassed inside its stomach needs to be squeezed into its wings for healthy development. This happens as the butterfly fights to exit the narrow hole in the cocoon.
And so, I have begun to thank God for the fact that imperfect community is all part of the process to bring perfection in us. Though we cannot attain perfection this side of heaven, the Bible is clear that we are being refined - through our surrender to God and our fellowship with others - so that we may reflect the beauty of Christ all the more clearly.
Silver is refined over fire until it is clear enough to reflect the face of the Refiner.

Now, doesn't this sound so romantic and ideal? I mean I love the idea and concept of community. I love the idealism we can spout from our lips when we talk about what we want our community to look like.
But you know what? The image we have in our mind of living in community usually appeals only to the one who is dreaming, because we fashion community to our liking. We plan out direction and goals based on what we would want ourselves. The greater good is often secondary to my perceived good. And when community life infringes on what makes me comfortable, I start to find reason to withdraw. I make excuses why I can't show up to group events or to attend church consistently. I start to pull away from the whole and focus maybe only on the few people I actually get along well with. I allow myself to invest my life in theirs, because its safe and its comfortable.

All the while, I am a disproportioned butterfly wondering why I can't fly.

In the month since my last blog post, I've begun a journey to rediscover the fight through the cocoon.  Being back in Edmonton for my grandma's funeral at the start of March drew my attention to the importance of both family and community. Sometimes we're lucky enough to have both together in the same environment. I live too nomadic for that to happen, so instead, God has placed the opportunity for surrogate family in the places I've lived. My problem is Im not always that good at accepting what God offers and Im too eager for the grass on the other side of the fence. Often I miss the opportunity.

In any case, its becoming clear to me that I actually do thrive when I choose to be planted! Go figure ;-)

When I mentioned at the beginning about the friend that I hadn't done a good job keeping in touch with, I was referring to Jesus. I've actually done a fantastic job of keeping Him on the fringe of my life over the last few years and justified the behavior with petty excuses.

These last couple of weeks have not been easy. Its not smooth sailing by any means. But there's been something significantly different happening in my life as a result of my determination to stick with community. I've rediscovered my best friend, Jesus, and I can already see things shifting in my day to day life. There's a hope dawning. Not that I know what for, but the fact is,  each day I wake with some secretive anticipation for what the day will hold. There's joy returning to my step, and true deep laughter bubbling over. I can't remember how long its been since I've laughed this frequently. And I find myself truly deeply caring about others. Dont get me wrong, I've never been false in my compassion. That is NOT who I am. But I have definitely struggled for empathy that comes naturally. I have had to push myself to overcome my own selfish desires in order to give to others. And now, I find myself back in the swing of who I know I am: someone who longs to bless; who looks for the chance to offer herself to others. And the best part is, Im loving who I am being refined as.

Im loving that Im discovering the fight through the cocoon IS definitely, undeniably, assuredly a rewarding fight!
I close with these words of David Crowder from his song, "Neverending":

"Oh You make all the difference;

Yeah You change everything;
 You make our whole existence;
 Worth something, so we sing"

The Foggy Post

I have no appetite, which is a crazy symptom. I love food. I love cooking food. Sure, some days I dont want to cook at all, but for the most part, I will still make something simple. I will usually wake up thinking about what I feel like eating. But I dont feel like eating anything. There is nothing of interest, despite food in plenty, in the kitchen.

Yesterday was a horrible day. I'd say it was a 3. My mood was sullen. I didn't have any motivation, though I did get around to doing things in spurts. My back hurt severe.  Now, given that I have an ongoing back and hamstring problem, that doesn't surprise me. However, I could barely move, so I chose not to!

I kept analyzing myself all day, wondering if this would be a plague for the rest of my life. Wondering if any man would bother with me if I took these fits of darkness. Wondering how I was going to ever manage to be a mom on these sort of days. I compared it a lot to having a cold or the flu; remembering Lori managing twins while facing a migraine or something that just sucks the life out of you.

I didnt come to any sort of conclusion, or gain answers. There are hundreds of women who suffer from some form of depression that live in our world and they accomplish much. They dont just sit and wither. I want to be that woman. I recognize there will be difficult days and I guess the challenge is to just face them head on.

How can you explain to someone who doesnt know what its like to be fighting an internal battle. And though it doesnt really manifest itself in a physical sense, it feels like your inside is trying to destroy your outside.

I know its mostly in my head, but the attack feels physical. There is no particular place within where the pain comes from. Its just there, all over. Like its carried in my cells or in my blood or something. I cant properly explain it. All I know is that its debilitating.

I look back on life before I accepted the medication, and I see how bad at times it got. I remember the summer of 2008 and being in Edmonton working at Second Cup and house sitting for friends and trying to visit others. They were all worried about me, and I see it in myself now. I was a mess. I was a complete disaster. And I focused a lot on my circumstances: my job, my finances, my future. To me it was a huge spiritual battle because I felt like I was up against and unseen force of evil. Little did I realize that the evil was within me; slowly soaking my strength and stealing my sanity.

It took me three more years before I came to accept the need for medication. I just didnt understand and the stereotype of anti depressants was just so bad. I do remember trying meds in NS in Spring 2009, but they didnt seem to do much to help. But then I consider I was getting ready to transition back to Ottawa. My transient lifestyle is a great mask for what lurks deep inside me. I am an experience junkie, and the excitement of an upcoming change tends to keep the darkness at bay. Its not until I start to gain a proper and healthy routine that I notice there is something severely wrong within me.

Thats why it took me until mid January this year to recognize the symptoms had returned.

I went off my meds sometime in November, because a friend casually said to me one day, "Its time you get off your meds too..." Immediately the social stigma of being on anti depressants cowered me and I quit that day. I can do this I told myself,  Im strong enough now to fight through.
December is a full write off. Im pretty sure anyone can agree, for multiple reasons. Christmas in N.America is energy and time and money sapping. Weve completely destroyed the essence of the holiday and weve got ourselves entangled in some ridiculous unhealthy fanfare. We have parties to celebrate one another, and the end of another "successful" year, and yet we are all dragging our feet and covering the dark circles under our eyes because weve taken on way too much to properly enjoy any of it.

Right after Christmas, I went on a cleanse. My body doesnt respond well to processed food chuck full of preservatives. So, I started a cleanse of cabbage soup. It didnt take long for me to see that I was depleting my body of essential vitamins in the midst of this cleanse, and I was very irritable.

Proteins and carbs are a very important part of our daily living: everything in moderation.

So, by taking out both, I basically became impossible to live with - and thats me feeling impossible with myself. I was going out of my mind. But I pressed on - for health reasons (how does THAT make sense?). And after the cabbage soup cleanse came the juicing program, which also amplified the disaster taking place internally. I blamed it on the food for twelve days, until I didnt have the will power anymore.

Finally one day I just ate. I ate bacon and eggs for dinner Sunday night, because thats what my grandparents do. And the next morning I felt much better. Much more balanced and human. I didnt want to rip everyones head off!!!! I preached the importance of balanced diet, and thought all my problems were solved.

However, it was less than a week before I recognized that I still didnt have my head out of the gloomy cloud. I was still struggling. And it was then that I finally began to see that my symptoms of "depression" had returned. I needed my meds!

I hate the term "depression"

We have really done a disservice to our society by calling it that. Im not "sad" nor am I "unhappy or despairing about life"

Of COURSE there are things Id like to change, but when Im having a dark day, its not my circumstances I want to change. Its whats going on inside me that I need to change. Its like when you have the flu, or malaria, or when kids have chicken pox. Its painful, and all you want is for it to end. You know it should end soon, but in the moment, it just consumes. However, unlike the flu or chicken pox, this "depression" causes you to wonder if it will ever end. And the longer it goes unchecked, uncared for, the more you begin to consider all the other facets of life and slowly start to feel hopeless.

Im not hopeless. I have a million things to be thankful for. Some days I fight with God and wonder if He has forgotten me because another year has passed and this definitely isnt the life I would have chosen for myself. Or I am angry because people die, women remain barren, children starve on one side of the planet while others throw away the foods they dont like. BUT, in all of these moments and in all of my reality, I still have way more to be happy with and to enjoy and to love and to laugh about. Im not "depressed" as we traditionally associate the word.

I have a disease. Is that okay to call it that? I cant think of any other way to put it. Maybe I could call it a virus instead. But I have begun to see that its one that will be with me for the rest of my life - not something that comes and goes and mutates, like a cold or the flu or bronchitis. So, disease it is. And as such, I have to approach my future with an honest evaluation that there will be days when I am just not up to par. And when I say par, I mean my own standard.

Thats another thing that Im learning, and want to share: I can't let society or my community or even my closest friends determine what is expected of me. I know myself well enough to be my own worst critic. I will gladly accept support, correction and encouragement. But 'par' for me is not the same as 'par' for Clara Hughes or any other person who has struggled with a mental health issue.

Par for me is accepting that its winter in Canada. I had forgotten the extreme toll this season takes on my mental and physical state (having been in Africa last winter).

I am also living in a rural community where some days (like today) its just not feasible nor safe to get out of the driveway and on to the roads. Being housebound sounds appealing until its going on day five. Then I have to dig deep and force myself to bundle up and fight against my own self to go visit people.

Im also caring for my beautiful grandparents who are aging and slowing down considerably, and that too takes an invisible emotional toll.

When I express that Im content with my life, its not a "power of positive thinking" sort of comment. Its an honest admission of where I am at right now. Sometimes it just takes me a bit of analyzing before I can weed out the fleshy sort of humanistic longings and see my life for what it really is. My medication balance is a daily work in progress. And some times I will have low days. Some days I wont sleep well at night so I will want to sleep all day. Some days my arms will feel weak and I wont have much muscle strength to get on the tredmill or lift the weights to work out. That is my reality: I have a disease that attempts to steal the joy of my tremendously blessed life. And some days the fight to win against the disease will just be harder than others. Today the battle is easier, which is why Im finally getting around to write this long overdue post! 

Off to watch the Olympics! Go Canada Go!!!!

My Three Year Old Rant

I work full time with a three year old who has, in less than a weeks time, had two MAJOR tantrums. It was during the second one, which occurred today and was solely directed at me, that I began to ponder my own ranting behavior. Lets face it, being screamed at and punched by a very angry little boy who was expecting his mom to pick him up from school and had to settle for his uncool babysitter instead, leads to riding the roller coaster of my own personal emotional track.

The meltdown began when he saw my face greet him at the car rather than his beloved mother. I get that. His father has been away overseas for five days already and life is just not normal. Routines are all over the place and frankly, the dude misses his Daddy. So, for someone other than Mommy to be picking him up from school...well that was just too much handle.

Irrational? In my practical mature 35years old brain, of course it was irrational. The screeching, the punching, the excessive tears, and the determined, "I DONT LIKE YOU"s were a bit over the top considering it wasnt as if he wasnt going to see his mom again in just a few short hours.

But there was absolutely nothing that would console him. Soothing words were screamed over and firm words only evoked an onslaught of kicks against the back of my seat. So, I chose to stay silent and wait out the crisis.

Though the tears subsided, and the sniffles minimized, the rant was only on a recess by the time we reached home. The fury reared its ugliness again. More hitting, more screaming. I picked up the little dude, and without any of the expected resistance, I carried him upstairs to his room and put him in time out.

"Just GO AWAY! Just GO AWAY!" continued to echo throughout the house, as I made my way back to the kitchen to work - and separate myself from my own frustrations and anger.

It was very easy for me to get caught up in the way I was being 'mistreated'. No one likes being hit and punched and screamed at, even if it is from a three years old and its obviously not a personal attack. But still....I had a choice before me.

I could easily allow myself to grow angrier and angrier at the ridiculous display and allow my own logical parenting skills to chastise and condemn the methods that have brought this little man to the place where he now sees it okay to scream at adults and demand his rights to their face! I could have built up myself by reminding myself that if he was my child, I would have been a lot more firmer in consequencing this behavior out of him. (No TV for the rest of the week!!! Lets show HIM whose boss!)

I had a brief moment of such thoughts surge within me and the glittery road on which they were advertised entice me to come along for the fantasy tour...

Hmmm, tantalizing indeed.

And then... that twinge of compassion whispered in my ear so quietly, I wondered if it was just the wind blowing the leaves outside. Compassion? Empathy? Let him off the hook? Are you kidding?

How is he ever gonna learn? Who else is going to teach him this is NOT how we act in our society?

Though I wish that I was the kind of person who immediately erred on the side of grace by turning the other cheek, I will admit that these thoughts are often the furthest from my mind and the least natural to my personality. I actually resisted the compassion more than I did the anger - even though I KNEW the anger was foolish and unwarranted.

So, what changed in those brief moments in which I started off thinking of how to use this experience as a teachable lesson to grow from, was not a result of my awesomeness and gentle demeanor. They were nothing short of an intervention from Holy Spirit Himself!

I re-entered the little dudes bedroom by force after he slammed his closet door enough times I began to worry about the hinges. Upon hearing my ascent upstairs, he barricaded himself against his door with all 35lbs of his will in a hope to keep me from coming in.

I took one look at the sweat drenched, tear stained, fist raised, fire ball curled up on the floor and felt nothing but sheer love and tenderness toward him. Without a word, I picked him up, cuddled him into my arms - which he was more than willing to melt into - and just sat on his bed, holding him. We didn't speak for nearly twenty minutes. Just sat as his sobs subsided and his strong personality found its way back to its inactive state. He curled himself up into my arms, trying to make sure that he was held in tight, and I thought about the tender, fearless, ridiculous love of God my Father.

No better word than scandalous to describe it.

The undeserved, joy compelled love endowed upon unworthy me through Christ that is so irrational and full of warmth that I couldn't help but be in awe of my Savior for those twenty minutes this afternoon.

Worn out and bruised from being the punching bag, I thought of my beaten Lord upon the cross, reaching to one more sinner in His very last moments ... His LOVE compelled Him.

His love for US, compelled Him on that cross.

And I thought about how, in recent months I've ranted and raved just like an irrational three year old. Unable to see the end of the day from my vantage point, Im furiously angry at God for the things He is doing, or not doing, in my life, for my life.

I refuse to listen any longer to the words of comfort and hope passed on by well wishers and those whose faith has not been dragged through my emotional sewage line, and instead I just scream with angry tears about how completely unfair God is being toward me....

I justify my behavior because I do recognize the audacity and arrogance in which I am quietly fuming, so I divert my selfishness to instead get angry at God on others behalf.

Kristen dying, even though God made her a promise! That fire raged at God for a good long time and Im pretty sure is still not completely smoldered. There may never been answers in this lifetime, but man oh man, Im gonna give God an earful regularly!
My friends, who are so full of love that their hearts are bursting, but  are still unable to conceive or carry a child into this world to share that love with.
The stories I hear of unwanted babies being born into unloved arms and marriages that are crashing and burning - or on the verge of - for reasons not much stronger than the three year old irrational rant.
And these are ALL N.American, First World rants. Dont even get me started about the injustice and inequality of the world as a whole!

I argue with God that even if my own situation is not of His concern, at least He could manage to lift a finger to help those whose aches run deeper than mine. I scream from behind my door: “JUST DO SOMETHING! ARE YOU EVEN THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME? BECAUSE YOURE DOING A GREAT JOB OF IGNORING ME!!!!!”

And then I hear Him coming up the stairs and in a fury of tattered pride, I barricade myself against my bedroom door as if the Creator of the Universe would be incapable of breeching my security.

I expect a reprimand.
I expect a detailed explained lesson in patience; of the difference between God's time and my time and blah, blah, blah....
"God, I just can't bear to hear it again. Can't you see my heart is in pain. There are needs all around me and I can't do anything to aid them and I feel so helpless and sorrow filled, and I just don't think that I can handle one more speech; one more sermon; one more song about holding fast. Can't you see Jesus, Im just so so so sad...."
And my Savior opens the door in one fluid motion, my barricade being of no resistance, and He looks down at me sprawled upon the floor, and with tender mercy in His eyes, He quietly reaches down and picks me up and sits me in the chair and quiets my soul....

Just like He promised He would.

Reflecting on a Thanksgiving Weekend

Reflections on a Thanksgiving Weekend

I've been meaning to write a follow up email since last Thursday's quick morning note regarding Kristen's memorial service. But instead, I've sort of wallowed in the taskless weekend with my parents and got a lot of sleep. Not that I mind in the least putting my mind to focus and coming up with a way to describe to you the beautiful day Thursday was, but I also know that putting my mind to focus means feeling pain.

And, it was during the memorial service that I first realized I've done a wonderful job of running from pain for six months. I've pushed aside my frustrations over the current plight of my entire life (namely, singleness) and instead just sifted through the shallow waters of menial tasks. That's not to say I haven't had some exceptional conversations and times spent with friends. Its just that in my own personal time, in my prayer life, my church attendance life and pretty much anything related-God life, I've been going through the motions for sure!

It took attending Kristen's beautiful life celebration service for me to recognize the depths to which I had allowed myself to drop the ball.
While Kristen faced death, and continued to choose day after day to honor and worship Christ despite her physical pain and the unknown future, I ran from God because I was tired of hoping for better things that just never showed up how I wanted them to.
Im not facing death - and never have to my knowledge. Im not in any sort of crisis that would justify my blatant disregard for friendships or world justice. I've just chosen to be angry with my life situation and make it God's fault.
Its been the small things of compromise that maybe you can't see, but I know are screaming at me with vengeance saying, "Do you really believe what you're subtly living? Do you really want to make these choices?"
I hope in fact, you have been oblivious to these compromises, because Im embarrassed of them. But at the same time, if you have seen nothing much different from me or in me over the last six months, God forgive me for knowing how to go through the motions so well!

I made a choice Thursday morning when I wrote my previous note, that I was going to dive head first into worship during the service. I didn't even make it to the service to start. Yes, worship for me is often characterized by singing to Christ, but its actually more than that. I spent the first four hours of the morning at the church prepping for the luncheons for both services (one family, one public). I didn't even  stop to sit once until it was time to go to my seat. Service is an act of worship also.
When Kristen's mom came into quickly say hi to all of her friends helping set up the reception, I broke down in tears. I immediately knew, there was no way I could have missed this day and still managed to carry on with my act of "Christian ease"

There is something powerful to be found in community. Or, as my friend Kate says, "her village" There's no expectation to like everyone in that community, but when all hearts are mourning together, there is a power and a strength that makes you realize you dont want to live without it, even in the face of personalities that drive you batty!

I cried through the entire service. From the time Mike (her husband) walked in carrying their oldest son (Beckett), I never stopped crying. And not just a quiet tears falling down my cheeks sort of cry. I cried the "ugly cry" of sobbing and shaking and sniffling. Only I was trying to be quiet and not distract from the beauty taking place in celebrating Kristen, so I had to choke back a lot of sobs and hold my breath til I composed myself numerous times. I'd grabbed a wad of kleenex from the box in the car before I'd left that morning and I was tearing through them like they were vapor, unable to catch the flow of joy and pain rushing from my eyes. I finally gave up trying to catch them and instead worked on pulling off my mascara so as not to have streaks. It was a better idea for sure!

Kristen's funeral was well attended. 1300+ people in attendance. As I mentioned last time her story had been covered by the news here in Edmonton so there were a few public faces (ones I would never have recognized) and many people who had just followed her story through the television.
But, as I sat there, completely broken, and yet finding my own heart healing as well, I recognized the greatest guest of all was Christ Himself.

As Kristen's dad said to us after, "Kristen would have wanted the service to honor Christ, and we wanted to honor her. It was a perfect blend"
From the specifically chosen worship songs, proclaiming the babe born in a manger (yes indeed there was a Christmas carol sung), to her own sister miraculously holding it together to play piano and sing the favorite song between them, to the worship leader breaking down for nearly thirty seconds before the congregational sing - and at just the right time to to make sure the flow of the service didn't wash over the impact of the sister's tribute. We all sat in silence while the worship leader attempted to compose herself three times and the words of Kennedy lingered in our ears. To the final song - sung by her entire extended family: cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents included:
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below. Praise Him above the heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen"
Every single moment of the hour and a half service brought your attention to Christ Jesus, by honoring a woman who chose to love Him faithfully and passionately to the very very end of her earthly life.
I can't remember ever being in such a beautiful environment. Not that I wish to experience this sort of loss ever again. But the trade off, somehow, in the end, was worth it.

Kristen lived her life honoring God despite her pain and her loss and her lack of understanding as to what was happening in her body. She chose to believe in a bigger good that required her to lose her life.
Oh that I would live the same.
Oh that my life would reflect the same.
Oh that we all would understand the love of Christ that is so wide, so deep, so high and so long, that it can not be explained and leaves other baffled in the face of death and suffering.

Our God is Good. Undeniably. And I know, that I know, that I know, that His good is at work in my life, in spite of what I might feel or experience or believe about my own current circumstances.

Surely, if Kristen could see that Goodness, morning by morning, certainly I owe it to her memory to attempt the same.

"Praise God, from whom all blessings DO FLOW!"

Happy Thanksgiving my friends!

The Hardest Day - Thursday October 9, 2013

Friends,

I started writing this email a few days ago, and then without warning, my device just stopped. The draft wasn't even saved, and all my words and emotions and thoughts were lost.

It might have been for the best to be honest, because I wasn't really in a polite frame of mind when I first sat down.

Not that I will be able to gloss over my feelings now either, but I will put a little more effort into my word choice.

 

In about four hours I will be at a funeral for a thirty years old mother of three. TODAY will be the hardest day of my life - without a question!

I grew up with Kristen and her family as part of my regular social life. Our parents are close friends and we regularly saw each other at church and then often on weekends also for family get togethers or summer time bbq's.

There's a whole slew of us that have lived alongside one another from the time we were first born, because our parents had been friends since they were teenagers themselves.

Now, the group has grown so incredibly big, with grandchildren in the picture, that we'd need a hall to fit us all in!

 

Having moved to Ottawa over fourteen years ago, I had definitely fallen out of the niche this community offers. Im probably closer to my parents' friends now than I am to their children who are my age, simply because time, distance and young children make it hard to keep close. I get it, and I understand it.

But that doesn't nullify this deep deep pain of loss.

 

When I was seventeen I started youth ministry at my church in Edmonton. I spent the first year out of high school mentoring five girls I had grown up with, but were young enough to still be in jr. high and have need of a youth leader. I LOVED IT; and I loved the girls. I had known all of them since they were born anyway, but this was now a time for us to do silly things on retreats and conventions and to laugh ourselves to sleep in hotel rooms or camp dorms.

Kristen was one of these girls.

 

All five of these girls are now grown, married and have children of their own. I learn about their lives through my parents and vice versa.

Three years ago Kristen's mother in law died of cancer in a very short time. It was a shock. Shortly after, Kristen, pregnant with her third little boy, was diagnosed with the same cancer if you can believe it! They gave her a year, two at most if they started chemo immediately.
She refused treatment until Lincoln was born and opted instead to do a natural medicine route that is not practiced in Canada.
More than a year into her diagnosis, she was thriving. Though the medical reports continued to come back saying she was getting worse and the cancer was spreading, you would have never known that she was even sick. She was still at home, caring for her boys, writing and singing about Jesus.

She held to a promise that God would heal her and she lived that testimony to the fullest.

 

As time continued however, the cancer leeched into all of her body. She was fighting tumors in her brain as well as throughout her body. Chemo and radiation were began, and she slowly became susceptible to infections.

Two weeks ago she went into the hospital with pneumonia and never came out. She went to meet Jesus last Friday morning.

 

Some may think that her death shouts that God is silent. And for a while I wanted to believe that also. I wanted to blame Him for His inaction. I wanted to scream at Him that He broke His promise to her and let her die prematurely. And while I still haven't reconciled myself to her death, I have captured something: Kristen lived her life in absolute faith of Jesus Christ. It wasn't a faith that depended upon her healing or upon her life lasting for eighty years. She chose to believe that God was sovereign and Lord inspite of what was happening in her body.

 

I honor her by choosing the same.

Today at her funeral, you know what I look forward to the most?

Worshipping!

Kristen was a worshipper. Her life was a song of glorification to her Savior.

And last night, as I sat in silence at the airport, exhausted from a long day and time change, I began to listen to worship music.

I do not have the answers.

I do not have a solid explanation that would help you understand.

But I have an assurance, a confidence. One that defies reason. And in that I CHOOSE to hold.

God is GOOD - even in the darkest, ugliest moments of life.

 

Pray for the family today. Kristen's boys are all under five. Her husband ... I can't even imagine what he's going through right now.
Pray for them all. Pray for her dad who has lost his baby girl. Her mom and her sister who have lost a best friend.

 

There's no words to say that will make this day easier, so don't feel you have to write back. My mind probably wont be able to respond to anything that comes through this inbox today, so just take a moment, instead of writing, to simply pray!

 

With Love,

meLissa