Bungy Jumping - Just Let Go

In July of 2009 I climbed above a rainforest canopy in Cairns, Australia and proceeded to jump and fall 50 metres with nothing but a tea towel (I kid you not) and a harnessed gigantic rubber band attached to my ankles.

It was one of the best things I have ever done in my entire life. I would honestly recommend it to anyone. You won't regret going through with it.

Going through with it the first time - that's the tricky part, even when you have every intention of following through. I left home for Australia already planning to make that jump. You may not know it by looking at me, but I'll pretty much try anything once (the exception being food - there  are some things I don't feel the need to ever put in my mouth). Bungy jumping had been on my list-of-crazy-things-to-do for awhile and when the day came to head to the rainforest I was totally pumped.

I was the only girl in the group willing to do it and I energetically led the climb up the 196 stairs to the top. The next thing I knew I was volunteering to go first and a tea towel was being wrapped around my ankles. I remember being thankful that I didn't have a fear of heights and for my EMS training as I had remarkable control over my adrenalin and had no pre-jump jitters. At least not until I shuffled my toes to the edge of the platform, looked out to the Great Barrier Reef and fully realized that I was actually going to have to voluntarily jump head-first off this tower. My right hand grabbed the conveniently placed bar and the thought ran through my head that I wasn't going to be able to do it. I still had no fear of heights but I sure learned that I had a fear of relinquishing control and jumping head first.

Thankfully, the jump tech makes a living out of convincing people to let go of that darn bar. From the moment he saw my hesitation he began talking softly and calmly to me. He told me three things.
1. Just put out your arms, take a deep breath and jump. Trust me, you won't die.
2. It seems scary right now but I promise, when you let go and let yourself fall, it will be the most exhilarating feeling of freedom ever!
3. You will never regret doing this and you can go home knowing that you've accomplished what you set out to do.

I chose to believe him. So on "1" I let go of the bar. "2"- I stretched my arms straight out from my sides. "3!"- I pushed off and let my self fall headfirst. A quick scream and then absolute euphoria filled me as I felt the freedom of falling without that fear of imminent death. The giant rubber band snapped me back up and I bounced around as I laughed uncontrollably. The idea that few short seconds ago I had been terrified to let go of a bar seemed ridiculous. I remember telling the guy that rowed out to me in the rubber dingy to hurry up and let me down so I could climb back up there and jump again. Then that's exactly what I did, except that now I was near giddy to let myself fall again.

Like I said,  it was one of the best experiences of my life and a good reminder that just because you think you want to commit to something and because you plan to commit doesn't necessarily mean that when it's time to jump you're not going to hang on to that bar of fear.

I've realized that's what it's like for a lot of us when it comes to Christ. Maybe you're like me. I grew up loving Jesus and going to church. When I was 12 I decided I wanted to be a Christian. I was eager and enthusiastic. I thought I was living for the Lord. It wasn't until I was an adult that I realized that I was still on top of that platform holding onto the bar for dear life. I had wanted to be there all along but when the time came I wasn't willing to let go of my life, trust God and fall headfirst into the new life Jesus was waiting to give me.

So I stood there trembling in fear and second guessing my decision. Thankfully, God provided me with experienced jump techs who basically assured me of those same three things that convinced me to jump that first day in the rainforest. They reassured me with Jesus' promise of eternal life, freedom, and a trip home with no regrets.

Even if you're a Christian, are you a Christian who was enthusiastic to get to the top but you're still there holding onto a bar or are you a Christian who decided to relinquish all control to Christ and jump headfirst into His plans?

In July of 2012, after a long time waiting at the top and many fears, I jumped headfirst into a new life with nothing but trust and faith in God's love and promise. It is the best thing I have ever done in my entire life. I would honestly recommend it to anyone. You won't regret going through with it.

Just let go.

God Brought Me Winter Tires

I'm not half-bad at playing house. I say playing house because that's what it feels like. Like not that long ago I was three feet tall and baking an imaginary cake in my imaginary kitchen and now I bake real cakes in my real kitchen in my beautiful house while throwing in a load of laundry, paying the bills, determining the most efficient heating strategy for the winter and trying to dust the living room before the timer on the cake goes off. I enjoy it. And like I said, I'm not half bad at it. I'm only around a 7 on the scale organizational awesomeness but when it comes to domestic ability it seems to do the trick most of the time.

The rest of the time it's not enough. Playing "real" house is hard work sometimes. Staying on top of everything requires vigilance, money and motivation. There are some parts of playing house that escape me at times, like changing the batteries in the smoke detector (whoops), keeping track of which week the town graces us with the favour of disposing of our garbage as it seems to change every month, shovelling my driveway and most sadly, keeping up with my car maintenance.

My poor car. I love it dearly though you would never know by looking at it. You'd think I'd be nicer to it considering its the only thing that's gotten me safely from point A to point B in the crazy-insane amount of driving I do. However, I usually take it completely for granted, that is until I start to feel that familiar vibration. You see, much like its owner, my sweet little car has a bit of an autoimmune disease that causes it to prematurely wreck its own tires. It can't be fixed. So my car and I, we go through a lot of tires. That's downright pricey.

I think any home owner would agree that home-owning in general is pricey and that when it comes to finances some months are better than others. This is not a particularly stellar month in the cheque book. In fact, I would describe this month as being a traumatic hemorrhage of money. Not a AAA per say, but not a paper cut by any means either. But what's a gal to do? I guess I'd rather have a financial hemorrhage than an ITLS case study with my name in it because I drove with bald tires through an early October snow storm (oh wait, that's exactly what I did). So I set out to my local OK Tire shop to get a quote.

One of the many great things about living in a small town is the local business owners. I walked in to OK Tire and my tire guy knows me by name and he knows the make and year of my vehicle off the top of his head. He's the only mechanic I actually trust when he says he knows what's wrong with my ambulance - so my tire issue, he's got that covered. Unfortunately, even with a good deal, the price of winter rims and tires, along with the knowledge that I'd need to buy new summer tires in a few bitterly cold months was enough to make my eyes water. So as I stood there, comprehending which route of credit debt I wanted to take, God intervened.

Seriously! Groan or shake your head or do what you will but its the truth. Sometimes we wait a long time for an answer to our prayers and sometimes the answer is "no". However, every once in awhile God answers our prayers in such a way that we can not even consider denying his absolute presence in our lives. In this case God answered my prayer lickety-split and my eyes were then watery from the awe of His goodness.

What happened? Well, my tire guy looked up from his paperwork and paused as he stared blankly for a moment before saying, "Wait a sec, there was a guy in here earlier who mentioned he needed to get rid of some winter tires for your model of car. Should I make a call for you?" My head was nodding faster than a bobble-head doll on a grader. Within 24 hours my amazing tire guy had contacted the seller, inspected the tires and negotiated a price for me. This intervention cut my cost in half. On top of that, the seller also had summer tires that had barely been used that he also sold to me for an awesome price.

I'm thankful that my tire-guy was willing to go out of his way to help me and that there just happened to be a man in the store earlier that day looking to sell some tires from a vehicle just like mine. Most of all, I'm happy and eternally excited that I have a Lord for whom no issue is too big or small for Him to care about and that He is teaching me to see Him in the little things, call for Him during the little things and trust Him in the little things.

Even if it's just a set of winter tires.

Heading into the Mission or Heading the Mission?

"Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost:"   ~ Matthew 28:19

You know how Girl Guides have those sashes that extend from one shoulder to the hip? They're covered in badges that the girls have earned by study, participation or accomplishment. There's the badges that everyone gets for baking a cake or looking after their family pet or sewing a straight line. Then there's that one special badge. The one that not everyone achieves, the one that takes more sacrifice and determination to get. The one that the other girls look at and go, "wow, you have that badge!" For me it was my snowshoeing badge. Not very many little girls got that badge and it was one I was proud to have sewn on my sash (and we're talking old-fashioned-rope-web-rabbit-foot-tall-as-me-real-deal-snow-shoes here, none of that lightweight aluminum stuff we have today). 

**Well, in the Christian sub-culture it could be argued that we have figurative sashes that we sew little badges on to. There's the conversion badge and subsequent baptism badge, the Christmas nativity badge (probably another badge just for girls if you have the honour of playing Mary), the church choir badge, the faithful tither badge, the Holy Matrimony badge, Sunday school teacher badge, guest speaker badge, scripture reading badge, committee leader badge, song leader badge, soup kitchen badge, I could go on but I think you get it. Then there's THE badge. The one you'll get the most questions about, the most ooooohs and aaaaahs, the one that proves that you are a dedicated, self-sacrificing Christ follower. . .The Missionary Badge. Da, da, Duuuummmmmm. 

Some churches, like mine, put a lot of emphasis on going to the mission field. We look at missionaries the way that the public looks at firefighters. We think of words like duty, sacrifice, heroism and we do it all with a feeling of awe. How many years did you spend in the mission? Wow, really? What was it like? Are you fluent in three languages now? What was the hardest thing you saw? Which disaster were you helping with? Did you cure a disease? Did you get a disease? 

Okay, well, we're not all so forthcoming with those exact questions but I'm just trying to get across that an overseas mission is the "Holy Grail" of Christian Service. In saying all this I am in no way trying to take away from the importance and dedication and sacrifice of committing to an overseas mission. After all, it is commanded of us. My question is are we over-emphasizing the overseas mission? Obviously I'm arguing that we are indeed doing just that. 

I remember as a kid when our school would be fundraising for the needy in developing countries. My dad would often wonder out loud about how it was that we could find money to give to people in other countries but we still had homeless and starving people in our own country - our own cities for that matter. These thoughts always stuck with me. The same could be said about the Gospel in other countries. Sure, there are lots of folk who have never heard the Gospel overseas - however, there are a lot of people at home who have never heard the Gospel either, or worse, have never heard it in a way that makes sense to them. 

A few years ago I had the pleasure of doing a ride-along with an outstanding Halton Region Paramedic and fellow Christ-follower. He has been on several missions, including a year spent in Haiti where he and his family were amidst the chaos of the earthquake when it happened. At this time I had not been on a mission yet and I was talking over different options with him. Then he said something to me that I will never forget. He said, "You know, Lexi, the greatest mission field we have is in the workplace." The greatest mission field is not in a third world country with a different language. The greatest mission field is wherever you are right now - wherever God has led you to at this moment. 

That's a powerful and sobering thought. Powerful because you have a mission at this very moment and sobering because think about how you went about your day today. Did you treat it as an opportunity to be a witness for Christ? Your greatest mission field is right here in front of you - but so is the toughest.

Which leads me to another thought. So many of us get excited when we have the opportunity to leave on an overseas mission. I was very excited when I was called to a short-term medical mission in El Salvador. It's a life-changing experience. In fact, I would go as far to say that for many of us, an overseas mission changes us more than it changes the people we meet (take that with a grain of salt). However, as quick as I was to accept the chance to jump into a a new situation in a new culture with new people I have to criticize myself for not accepting that chance on the home front.

How many of us actually go out of our comfort zones at home? I'm just observing that we spend a lot of time in each other's fellowship which is comforting and rejuvenating. I'm wondering though if we may need to confront the fact that shaking someone's hand after singing once a month is not missionary work. That spending all of our time with friends from church and in our own community does not spread the Good News. That being too self-concious to strike up a conversation does not further Christ's love or break down stereotypes. How can we take that comfort and rejuvenation we find in our own church and community and spread it outward?

Maybe we need to get a teensy-bit more excited about the mission field God has placed us in before we start longing for the mission field overseas.

Just a thought. 

"And he went out from thence, and came into his own country; and his disciples follow him." 

~Mark 6:1

**The earning badges thing is an illustration. A Christ-filled spirit realizes that these "badges" do not earn him or her a place in Heaven. Only through accepting Christ as saviour and his free forgiveness grants us a place in Heaven. The "badges" are things we are propelled to do through our love for Christ.

Stumbling on a Blessing (a.k.a Remy the Really, Really Good Painter)

Blessings are good right? That's a dumb question. Of course blessings are good. Just the word carries positive connotations. I'd even say that most of us are fairly grateful for the blessings we've already received. After some discussion at Sunday school today however, I'm wondering if we can begin to stumble over our blessings. I'm thinking that we can let our blessings alter our attitude, prevent us from participating in open fellowship and prevent us from fully communing with the Lord.

To better illustrate my thoughts (and mostly for my own amusement) I'm going to use a fictional story about "Remy, the Really, Really Good Painter".

Remy lived in a community of painters. Some were admittedly really poor painters, some were average painters and some were pretty good painters. There were a couple that were really good painters. However, God blessed Remy and made him a really, really good painter.

Remy knew that God had blessed him with this gift. He was thankful for it too. People paid more money for his paintings and so he had a nicer house. He got a lot of publicity for his paintings and so everyone knew his name and complimented him on his work. He also had a number of beautiful paintings to decorate his home and to give to people as gifts. Yup, Remy was one blessed dude. However, Remy didn't always know what to do with such a big blessing. He didn't always know it, but sometimes it caused him problems.

 Remy was a genuinely good guy, so he had lots of friends. One day he was painting with his friends. Some of his friends had finger paintings, some had paintings made for calendars, but Remy - his painting was fit for the Louvre. Everyone gathered around it. "Wow, Remy, that's a really, really, good painting! That's incredible!" Remy knew that it was a really, really good painting but like most people in the community Remy valued humility and he didn't want to seem boastful so he contained his smile and just said, "thanks, but it's not a big deal, I don't really care about this one". His friends turned to sheepishly put their only half-decent paintings away.

Remy's friends would often ask him to help them with their paintings. After he helped them perfect a certain brush stroke or get the shadowing just right his friends would say "Remy, thanks very much for helping me. I really appreciate it." Again, Remy didn't want to seem prideful so instead of saying "you're welcome" or "glad I could help" he got into the habit of saying "no worries" or "not a problem". A few of his friends became more hesitant to ask for his help.

One day, Remy and his friends were sitting in the coffee shop discussing painting. His friends were lamenting about how they often had difficulties mixing the colour hyacinth purple. Sometimes they used too much red or other times not enough blue. Remy didn't have any trouble mixing hyacinth. He was having trouble lately mixing lagoon green though. It was becoming troublesome that he couldn't quite get it the way he wanted. He figured he couldn't really complain though - after all he wasn't having the issues with hyacinth that the others were having. So when his buddy asked, "Remy, are you having any problems with your painting?" Remy answered, "I can't complain, I'm very blessed." Soon his friends began to worry that maybe they couldn't relate to Remy anymore or maybe he didn't trust them with his problems anymore.

Remy was excited when he read the tender for the commission of a painting for a The Snazzy Yacht Club. If he was chosen it would bring in enough money to pay off the mortgage on his parents house and have a enough left over for him to build a studio, or maybe a painting school! He put in his application. However, when he knelt to pray before bed that night he decided not to ask God for the blessing of receiving the commission. He felt that would be selfish. God had already blessed him soooo much, especially with his talent for painting. Remy didn't get the commission.

The next day Remy ran into his church pastor at the local Art Gallery. "Hey Remy, how did you ever get that commission for The Snazzy Yacht Club?"
"No I didn't actually," said Remy.
"Oh, that's too bad. I supposed God decided to answer that prayer with a 'no' then eh?" Said the pastor who was a bit odd and had a habit of making awkward statements.
"I didn't talk to God about it," admitted Remy. "I thought it would be selfish to ask God for more blessings on top of the ones he's already given me."
"Hmmm," the pastor paused. "Well Remy, let me ask you this - If you heard a child asking their parent to feed them supper, even though the parent fed them supper the night before, and the night before that - would you think that child was selfish?"
"No, of course not," said Remy.
"Well Remy, remember you are a child of God."
Remy raised his eyebrows and nodded as he considered what the pastor's reminder. "I've never thought of it that way. I never considered that I could let my blessing get in the way with talking to God."

Remy began to consider where else his blessings were causing him to stumble. . .

~***~

So that's Remy the Really, Really Good Painter. Like I said I was thinking about this today as a few of us were discussing how sometimes we don't ask God for something, or we feel bad about asking God for something because we've already received so many blessings. We forget that God wants us to tell Him everything and that he wants to give us good things. Later on I began to think on what other issues could arise from our blessings.

The first and most obvious one I thought of was pride. It begins when we forget that we are nothing without God and start taking the credit for ourselves. However, we all know that arrogance and boasting is bad, so I moved on to thinking about things that might not be so obvious.

If feeling we're overly blessed could keep us from talking to God and keeping fellowship with Him then it could probably keep us from open fellowship with our friends. We don't want to sound like we're ungrateful and complaining so we don't open up to our friends about our day-to-day trials. We forget that there's a difference between complaining to our friends and open discussion and mutual support from our friends - especially when we face the same or similar issues. There can also be more humility in accepting a compliment with a simple thank you or accepting a thank you with a simple "you're welcome" than there is with trivializing it.

It was a new thought to me that even when God gives us a great blessing we run the possibility of stumbling while we strive to be humble and grateful for that same blessing. Just thought I'd share my thoughts. What do you think?

In Spite of Our Grief

This post is not on facebook, nor does it have any labels. So if you're reading this its because you have a habit of reading this blog or you're a friend. In which case I won't need to explain too much about the recent history of this post, nor will I.

When you work in EMS accident scenes are just that - a scene. Usually they are fairly run of the mill. Then there are the accident scenes that you know are going to be bad, just by listening to the dispatch information. When you hear the report from dispatch as you are driving towards a huge rising plume of black smoke you pray and you pray hard. You start to go over your protocols, your pediatric drug dosages, BSA percentages - anything so that when you step out of that ambulance you feel prepared.

You park a safe distance away and begin to walk, ignoring anything that you can't fix - whether its a two vehicles engulfed in huge, intensely hot fire or a swarming group of bystanders frantically telling you what they think you need to be doing. Nope, you just carry on towards the Medic that was first on scene, the one who will assign you a patient - the patient that you're mentally prepared to take care of.

It's a good thing that you're mentally prepared. It's a good thing that people who work in this industry typically have the trait that allows them to mentally overcome emotionally disturbing sights. Because nothing prepares you emotionally for when you walk up to your patient, remove the massive queen-size comforter that's been wrapped around them and look in to the grief-stricken face of your friend. Nothing.

It's four days later now and where do we go from here?

I think of the saying, "Inside of me is a weak heart but behind it is a strong God." This weekend I was reminded of how truly weak my heart is. How quick I was to question God's plan, question his grace, how defenseless I left myself to the devices of the evil one. I've been upset because it's like looking through a window, I can see God at work but I can't feel him through the glass. I don't feel His comfort.

Emotionally I don't feel God's comfort, but mentally I know it exists. I don't doubt. I don't doubt where Les is. I don't doubt that he's beyond happy. And I definitely don't doubt that this is part of God's plan. It just sucks is all and it doesn't feel good. There's no warm and fuzziness. But now that things are calming down, I know that God is not witholding His comfort from me - it's me that's not letting Him close. It was pointed out to me that if I can see God's work through the glass but can't feel him it's because He's on the outside and he's waiting for me to open the window.

There is the miracle that Tony and the boys are okay. I cling to that. As the days go on I can start to see more blessings. I was thinking about what I would want if I was in an accident. The truth is, I would want my EMS friends to be the ones to look after me and my family. I would be comforted to see my friends from the fire department there. I'd want my friend to tell me first that my loved one was dead. I'd want my friends to pray with me on the side of the highway. To have familiar, loving faces there in my time of need would be such an amazing blessing at such a terrible time.

When I think of that - I don't feel I need to ask God "why?" anymore. When I can think of it like that I feel honoured that God let me be there for my friends in their time of need.

I want to work on getting that window all the way open before the funeral so I can bring God's comfort to others as my friends have been doing for me.

So, if you are part of our community's story I hope you can feel God's comfort working in and around you. If you're struggling then at least know that I understand and that I do believe that God is waiting to give us comfort too if we just let Him all the way in.

"We rejoice in spite of our grief, not in place of it." -Woodroll Kroll

Cam

My brother, Cam, got married a week ago today. It was a wonderful occasion. We are all very aware that Cam is incredibly blessed to have his wife, Kyla at his side. She's the full package. Smart, beautiful, kind and funny. She balances him, organizes him and has demonstrated that she will love and care for him no matter the circumstances.

However, because Cam is my only sibling, because he just got married and because I can, I want to take some space to talk about the kind of guy that Kyla's married. It's often been noted in literature that there is no one in the world that is a closer genetic match to you than your sibling. There is no one else, who when your parents are gone, will be able to remember your early lives other than your siblings. They are often your first playmate, your first adversary and your first defender. For Cam and myself this is the case.

My parents basically gave me Cam as a present on my 3rd birthday. That was the first day I met him. Born the night before, he had breathing complications that saw him rushed to the NICU before my mom even got to hold him. Obviously he survived but he scared my mom out of having anymore children. As I sat there on my mom's hospital bed looking at him, I was very puzzled as to why they were naming him after a camera. I distinctly remember thinking 'he sure doesn't look like a camera'.

Cam was my first playmate. We both had amazing imaginations and as a bonus, Cam was the more laid back of the two of us and was usually happy to go along with whatever I decided we were playing. We slid down the stairs on couch cushions, built forts, flew Barbie/G.I Joe helicopter missions, played street  and hallway hockey together. When it was windy outside we would imagine we were preparing for, and then running from a tornado. Cam happened to have blue carpet and a Captain's bed in his room which made for an instant game of fishing, sailing and being rescued from sharks when we fell overboard.

There are a few family stories that revolve around me mistreating my brother. Notably that I put him in the dryer once (though I didn't do it maliciously) and that I held him under water in the kiddie pool (I did do that maliciously). I may have also witnessed Cam taste testing three different types of soap and dog treats. However, it was Cam who all on his own, dumped a box of salt straight into his mouth thinking it was sugar. It was Cam who took the oil can and oiled EVERYTHING in dad's workshop and Cam who decided to build a new electrical appliance out of old spare parts and then attempted to plug it in to the wall. Fortunately mom's spidey-sense was tingling and she caught him just as the plug headed for the socket.

Sometimes, after I had received a severe punishment and was crying in my room, Cam would come in and hug me and try to make me laugh. I remember standing in the school yard one day in elementary school while a group of bullies hurled insults and threats at me. Cam saw me and he simply walked over ignored the bullies and taking me by the hand, led me away. That was the type of kid my little brother was.

Now I want to talk about the type of man Cam is today. There are some things I continue to share with my brother. We are both extremely avid readers. We both love dogs. We enjoy debating politics and current events. Cam's the only person who could get away with phoning me at 8 a.m. on a Saturday just so we could debate the Wildrose Party vs. the Conservative party while we're still lying in our respective beds. We enjoy hiking, soccer and hockey and we both love that we're Albertans. Cam is one of the only people who can get away with calling me by my full name.

Cam makes an effort to converse with every person in the service industry he meets. Whether they are a waitress, janitor, salesperson or cashier, at the very least he will have learned their name and how their day is going before he leaves, if not more. He takes the time to thank them with sincerity for the job that they do. Cam is the type of guy who will go out and pick up a friend in the middle of the night when they need a designated driver. He's the kind of guy who will spot you the money to pay for your meal and then tell you later not to worry about it. He's the guy who can listen to you rant about your most recent problem and he won't tell you that you're being irrational, even if you are. Cam will even walk you to your car to make sure that you get there safe. One of the best things about Cam is that when you are feeling blue he will do his best to cheer you up and make you laugh.

When I was on practicum, Cam took two of his days off just to come babysit my dog for me. After Cam got rid of his truck he went back to the yard and got permission to take off the tailgate just because I'd asked him if I could have it for a friend. Cam took me with him to pick out an engagement ring, not because he needed me but because he knew it would mean a lot to me. Just before his wedding Cam spent most of a day with me while I ran the most boring errand ever. When I walked down the aisle at his wedding and finally made eye contact with him through the tears that were welling up he smiled at me and in typical Cam-fashion said "Hey, how's it going?"

At his own wedding reception Cam was down on the ground with a server trying to pick up the shards from someone's broken glass. He danced numerous times with the four-year-old flower girl and he stopped to take a meal to our grandfather's room because he was too ill to come to the wedding. Earlier that day Cam related that he was "marrying the love of my life" and he meant it very seriously.

Cam is the type of guy who told Kyla very early on in their relationship that he doesn't believe in "taking a break". He figures that if that is the case you might as well end the relationship. He believes that if you are willing to "take a break" then you are not willing to try to work through tough times and disagreements. If you are not committed enough to stay by your partner's side when things get rough then you're not ready to be in a relationship. Pretty wise stuff eh?

That's Cam. He loves Kyla, he's committed to her and he's an over all really, really good guy, not to mention a great brother.

So, sorry girls. My brother? He's taken.

Enough

If you read this blog on a semi-regular basis and think to yourself, "man, she sure writes a lot of religiousy type stuff" I hope it doesn't annoy you too much. I don't mean to be preachy and I certainly hope I don't come off that way. I like to write what I know, what I wonder, and what I'm learning in the hopes that there's other people out there who can relate with me on these day-to-day things too. Thankfully for me, God is an every day, real part of my life, so He inevitably comes up in most of my writing. I can't really apologize for that. So if you're still reading this I guess you don't mind. Thanks for coming by here. I always enjoy reading messages or feel free to subscribe on the upper right hand area of the page. Anyhoo. . .

I don't know about you guys but when I was growing up I used to wonder what it was like to be an adult. When I was about 15, my mom helped me with a school project where we had to plan out a budget with a mortgage, bills, groceries etc. I don't remember the specific numbers but what my mom remembers was that I was in tears because based on the realistic budget I had created I was going to have to ride my bike everywhere as I wouldn't be able to afford car payments or gas.

Yes, on that day reality set in and I figured that being an adult mostly meant trying to balance a budget and deal with money woes.

A few years ago, I remember having the revelation that being an adult was all about problem solving. Which really it is, you constantly are solving problems and managing your time. However, I've decided that there's another facet to what adulthood feels like - inadequacy.

Do you ever feel like you're doing a less than adequate job in your life roles? My goodness, there's always something I feel I'm sucking at. If I don't feel like an inadequate friend than I'm an inadequate paramedic, an inadequate sister, an inadequate mommy to my my fur-baby, an inadequate Christian. 

On one hand it keeps a girl humble but on the other hand it's quite discouraging. I'm not smart enough, I'm not friendly enough, I'm not home enough, I'm not giving enough, I'm not helping enough, I'm not cleaning enough. I'M JUST NOT ENOUGH. 

It's enough to make a person nutty. So this week, when it just felt like I just couldn't keep up, couldn't do everything or know everything, when I couldn't give the love I wanted to give, find the time to meet with someone, keep up with the housework, get the car washed, run those long awaited errands or even get food I just had to stop.

Stop. Breathe. Forgive myself for not being what I expect of myself. Do what I can get done while I can do it. Then thank God, because God makes me enough. 

Truly, God knows that I can't do it and know it all. He just asks that I talk to him when I feel like a complete loser. He's the best person to talk to because He doesn't see me that way. Because Jesus died for me God only sees me with love. He is the one who makes me enough. 

Thank goodness for that. I may not be enough for another but I'm always enough for God. There's another saying I like to keep in mind too. "God doesn't call the qualified. He qualifies the called." You might think you're not up to the standard needed to get a job done, but rest assured, if God calls you to do something and you allow Him to work in your life, He will empower you to accomplish what he seeks. I have found this to be true. 

So yes, being an adult usually revolves around managing money, always revolves around problem solving and sometimes revolves around just trying to be good enough to make it through. As long as it always, always, always revolves around God I think we'll be more than okay.

Now to get going on that massive To-Do list. . .

"I pray that from from His glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through His spirit. Then Christ will make His home in your hearts as you trust in Him. Your roots will grow down into God's love and make you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high and how deep His love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. Now all glory to God, who is able, through His mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. "

Ephesians 3:16-20