Feeling Sick

I went home from work sick today. All morning my coworker had been asking me how I was feeling, and when I finally said I wasn’t feeling well, she said, “Yeah, you look a little pale.” Yet it had taken me nearly half an hour of arguing with myself and trying to convince myself that I could make it through the afternoon, and slowly realizing that I couldn’t push myself anymore, to finally decide that I had to admit I wasn’t okay.

In the last five years, I can count the number of days that I’ve missed either work or school on one hand. In four years of university, I missed two days of classes. One was because I was too sick to get out of bed, and another was because my grandma rolled her mini-van and I drove three hours to see her and assure myself she was okay. I’ve showed up at working coughing and blowing my nose, but insisting I’m okay and I can still work. Until my coworker gets tired of listening to me and tells me to go home and take care of myself.

I wonder sometimes why it takes me so long to admit that I’m sick. Somehow I have this idea that I’m supposed to be a robot, able to just go go go. I’m okay, I’ll insist, hoping that nobody can see through my smile to how I’m really feeling – maybe a bit nauseous or overly tired or upset about something. The motto of the penguins in Madagascar could be mine – just smile and wave, and don’t admit there’s a problem.

There are a few people in my life who can see through my mask, to know that things aren’t quite right. My coworker is a cheery, hard worker, but she’s also not shy about admitting when she’s not feeling great and can’t do something anymore. She’ll ask me how I’m doing and tell me if she thinks I’m too sick to be there. A few friends are good at asking me, and meaning it, how I’m really doing – behind the “I’m fine” that I give to the rest of the world. And maybe it’s time that I started listening to some of them, and admitting when I can’t keep going.

I thought about how God could have made us robots, little machines that keep going endlessly and never need repairs. But He made us humans, subject to disease and weariness, and maybe it’s a good thing. Without that, we wouldn’t need Him or the people that He puts around us to support us. And just as I too often fail to admit that I’m sick, too often I fail to admit that I need Him. So I think, having rested my body today, I’ll go get some rest for my soul.

God's Callings

The applause echoed through the room as we pounded our hands together. One person toward the front stood up, then another halfway back, and then we were all getting to our feet, still clapping as hard as we could. On the stage, a man stood, a grin splitting his face as he looked out at the standing ovation he was receiving. A rock star or famous actor, you ask? No. A man who had just committed his life to God.

That was the second ordination I’d attended in less than a month. Both the deacons who presided at our wedding ceremony were ordained shortly after. We were there to celebrate with them, to rejoice at this culmination of their journeys, and to thank them for their gift to God and to the church. These men have whole-heartedly and unreservedly answered God’s call on their lives, and I’m excited to see where He will lead them in the years to come. They are godly young men who will serve Him well.

As I thought about their calling and response, I got thinking about my own calling as well – as a wife and someday a mother. These priests are called to live Christ to the world; I am called to live Christ to my husband and children. And too often I fail to love and serve as I should. I'm lazy, impatient and selfish. As I watched the priest making his vows to God and the church, I thought of the vows I had made to my husband - to love him and honour him. That’s easy to say, and easy often to do in the big things, but harder in the small things.

One theme ran through both ordinations: that the priests look to God for their strength to carry out what He was calling them to do. I’ve realized that too often I try to do it on my own. I hold up the ideal of what God has called me to and go at it with all my strength. The problem is that my strength isn’t enough. I stumble and fall more often than I succeed. Thankfully I have a patient husband, who keeps giving me second chances. And God keeps waiting to give me the strength to do what He’s called me to, if I'll only ask Him. Along the way, He gives support and inspiration through good friends who are also living out their callings.

Happy Canada Day!

For this Canada Day, my husband and I explored a small part of Canada – the Alberta foothills. We were at a wedding in Drayton Valley on Saturday and afterwards continued west. The highway turned into a wide gravel road, lined with trees on either side, with occasional glimpses past those trees to more tree-covered hillsides or meadows strewn with debris where the loggers had been through.

We stopped at a reservoir to look around. It was packed with RVs, boats, and quads, and we resumed our journey. For the most part, we had the road to ourselves, except for occasional traffic that past us and left us in clouds of dust. My husband slept as I bounced over potholes and washboard on the gravel road, admiring the views with each hill that I topped and then cruising down into the valleys between.

We checked out a few campgrounds, but most of them were full for the long weekend. Finally we reached a campground that had no lake (and so no fishermen) and didn’t allow quads. Happy at finding such a quiet place, we started setting up our tent. Then the music drifted through the trees from one of our neighbors. We looked at each other, wondering if we should move on to another campground. The music stopped. We finished putting up the tent. The music started. And so it went all night, but they played quietly and turned it off early.

I made supper with our new camping stove and pots while he got the fire going. Between rotten wood and a lack of paper, he had a challenge, but managed to finally get the fire burning steadily. We spent the evening watching the orange flames turn the logs into white ashes, chatting about the wedding, plans for the future, and our first month of married life. It was good just to relax and be with each other, without having anything else to do. He'd been right that we needed to get away and take a break.

The next morning we were up (sometime after the sun), and soon had camp broken and hit the road. We drove into Cadomin just before noon and ate lunch before starting up the trail. Just after we started dating, we went out there together to go hiking, but the trail to the caves was closed and we had to find a different trail. So finally now we made it up the trail and, with our wedding-present headlamps, into the caves.

We joined a family of four for the trek inside, and were thankful for their map and lamps as we explored the first few hundred feet of the cave. The floor was slippery with damp clay, packed down by the water dripping slowly from the ceiling and the feet that have passed over it. In places we used our hands, to hold ourselves and keep from slipping as we climbed over a rock or stepped down a tall step. We explored one arm of the cave and then returned to the entrance, where the bright sunshine shocked our eyes. We will be back there, but for then, it was time to return home. The weekend was over.