On death, and living despite it

Thankfully, in my relatively short life I've only experienced death a few times. I can count on my fingers how many kindred spirits I've lost. However, for those I have, I miss them more dearly then I would have realized. I was looking through old photos and came across some that hit my right in the heart.

This is my gram and my cat. The only two 'people' I've lost and have dreamt about, gone through the stages of grief about, and most of all, miss like crazy. I remember once I woke from a dream about Callie (the beautiful calico) and finally was able to place why, in my dream, I had felt as if I hadn't seen her in so long. And my grandmother, Elda. I wish I had her now. I didn't appreciate the little things while she was around as much as I would now. I'm more like her now than I ever was. Just little interests that have sprung up or developed. How many times I've wished I could just sit at her chair and listen and talk with her about Egypt, or sewing, or how she wasn't the one to teach me to knit because she was gone before I took a serious interest in it. Or how, at the time, I drank the peppermint tea she gave me only because it meant I could drink a grown-up-drink with her (or at least, that's how I seem to remember it. My memories are a bit foggy over certain details), and now, how I made a special trip with my grandfather just to harvest some of the mint that's grown by the edge of their driveway for as long as they've lived there and likely even before. I think part of it was that they both were sick before they died. And I was there, caring for them when they could barely do it themselves. I remember going home for reading week and getting up with my dad every couple hours to care for my grandmother. I know she wouldn't want me remembering her like that, but it's part of it. She was so frail, and yet she still had her sense of humour. She could barely talk and yet she'd try to make jokes in the early morning hours.

Or Callie, who was born on the farm. I remember it well as it was one of my first experiences with childbirth, and I was the first one to know when they were born. And even though I had wanted to keep her brother, she became 'my' cat, the one who curled up with me at night, and the one who I loved more dearly than any other. She too, took sick and eventually died. We never were sure what of, she just slowly wasted away in front of us. But she lasted until my wedding day. She, like the other pets, was decked out in finery.

And I don't reminisce to be sad, more to keep on. To remember the way things were, and to keep going on, knowing what I once had, and how it's shaped me to who I am. I could tell seemingly endless stories, and maybe one day I will write them all down. But for now, I have my photos, and my packages of hand-harvested mint in my tea cupbard.

A new item and a new lesson!

I'm super excited.

I've been working on a new item to add the the shop.

Here's a sneak peek.

Soon to be available!

And here's what I learned today;

"Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms." 1 Peter 4:10

Yay! More reasons to sew!

Oh yes I did!

With dear husband of mine two hours away and the rest of my family between four and six hours away, I have noone to take care of me when I'm sick.

SO, here's my remedy.

Chocolate and vanilla ice cream (because ice cream, especially chocolate always makes things better!), peanut butter blotches waiting to freeze, frozen blueberry (antioxidents?) and strawberry jam. Yum!

On lessons learned and lessons learning

Every time I go to camp ABK I come back changed. I know that sounds cliche and straight off a brouchure, but's it's the complete truth. Sometimes I don't notice it right away, and once it's been so painful I knew I wasn't going to make it out alone. But God works in mysterious ways, and sometimes it's the mystery that makes things so much better.

Last year I had a rough week. If it were my first time at camp I probably never would have gone back. Thankfully I knew camp wasn't always like that, and the struggles I faced were far from common. But it was a good great opportunity for God and I work some things out in my life that were seriously lacking and definately needed some attention. But I never want to have another growth period be that painful again. This year I had th chance to quickly chat with one of the directors of camp and the wife of my former youth pastor. She's seen me grow from a new gangly pre-pubescent  to the woman I am now and the green Christian to the Christ-follower I am today. We talked of last year and she mentioned that most good growth has pain to it- even as we physically grow we're faced with pain as our bodies accomodate new or bigger parts. And although it WAS painful, there was SO much growth. Spiritually and emotionally. And it left a mark, or scar, like most painful experiences do, that will likely stay with me for most of my life. But with that scar are beautiful memories, like during one of the worst nights of all when I looked up into the starriest sky I'd ever seen and knew, in that moment, that God kept his promise to Abraham to make his descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky, and He would keep promises to me as well.

I'm glad this week wasn't full of painful growth, but rather smaller ones that you don't even notice are happening until they're over. Like last year, there were some things God and I needed to work out, but these were more personal, rather than things that dealt with others. Of course, they tie into things between myself and others, but not as large as before. For example, on the way to camp I had a wonderful opportunity to sit with a friend who, at the time, was more of an aquaintance. We talked, and music seemed to be a big topic. You see, I'm kind of.... particular when it comes to worship. I shy away from crowds, and find it very difficult to enter into real and true worship when I'm in a crowd of people. But, apparently that makes me odd and is something I need to work on. As is the song choice. I HATE religiosity. And part of that to me is 'worshipping' falsely or pretending to worship by going along with what everyone else is doing. Coincidentally, it seems to happen with a couple very popular songs, and people get upset when I tell them I don't like them. But when I try to explain my reasons (and there seem to be a few), I get told to either deal with it, pray about it, or get over it. As if I haven't tried. But I realized something this week. Worship, to me, needs to be meaniful. It can be fun or serious, but is NEVER forced. So maybe I can't worship God during the music in church. Maybe instead I worship Him in my devotion to Him, or the way I act with people, or the things I can do with my hands. Maybe instead of being in a church I'm in my car, or in the bathroom, or alone in my room with the world locked outside.

As a councillor, you're in charge of roughly a dozen girls for the week. You and your co-councillor are surrogate moms, big sisters and aunties for the week, and by the end you have so much love in your heart for these girls you don't want them to leave. This week one girl asked me about my family. My brother's not a Christian, and she wanted to know if I was worried that when I got to heaven he wouldn't meet me there. I told her I was every. single. day. And she looked at me as if understanding that she wasn't the only one in the world who had a struggle inside her home as well. When I relayed the story to my husband, I was in tears. School brings about different types of friendships, and in this case, two men who I never would have suspected to take up so much space in my heart. One tells me hey's gay, and doesn't understand how the bible can be good if people do so many bad things in it's name. I tell him people are bad, not the Bible, and that peope not only use other holy books, but also use religion as an excuse because they already believe it causes conflicts. He tells me he loves god, but religious people make him afriad of religion. I tell him it's not a people-created religion he needs but a RELATIONSHIP. Mid-way through our texting conversation I break into tears and ferocisouly tell my husband how much I hate this world and that when I get to Heaven I'm going to dance so that every step is like a step on satan's head. I have NEVER hated him more at this moment than I have before. I see first-hand the kind of deciet and lies he's fed into my friend's head, and I am furious. Part of it is the spiritual high I'm on, but most of it is just the love I've recieved from God this week. I do not understand how I can love my boys so much and I tell my husband my two friends may as well have been born from my parents, my love for them is so great. How can my love be so great for someone that does things I hate, that doesn't understand that Christ-following is about LOVE, not HATE or PERSECUTION, and that my joy, my love, all comes from the one who gave up everything for me to know it??

It saddens me to see the hurt in this world. I hear and see people travel all over the world looking for someone to help. My heart longs to be in Egypt, but I know that God has put me in a place, surrounded by ones I love for that very reason. To love them. To show them, not just tell them, that yes, Jesus loves them. We sang a song a camp this week that I had never heard before. It wasn't very difficult to catch on to, and I immediately fell in love with it.

Here are the lyrics.

The savior of the world is coming
The savior of the world is coming doo-own
Come on Gabriel, go tell Mary
The Savior of the world is coming down

Refrain:
And He will be king!
And His kingdom will not end
And He will be called the son of the most hi-igh
He will come in love
And the world will never be the sa-ame
The Savior of the world is coming down!
I've been singing it all day, and I know one day I'll be teaching it to my newphews/ nieces/ children. For some reason, it's speaking to me, comforting me, and encouraging me, all in one.