Chapter 11:11

...whom you trust. oh be careful little heart whom you trust. For the Father up above, is looking down in love, so be careful little heart whom you trust." The other night I opened my window and stared out at the inky sky. The air was crispy but it had stopped snowing. Those familiar tears came unbidden as I remembered all the other nights I stared out this window. Searching the same sky for some reason to keep going. It struck me that it's been exactly one year. One year since depression. Since self harm. Since anxiety. Since my messed up miserable existence. One year of Grace. I'm not a huge fan of New Year's resolutions. About middle of January, if you are very quiet, you can hear thousands of resolutions being broken. The cycle has repeated itself for decades. But one thing I do is ask God for one goal to work on that year. (By "goal" I simply mean an area to grow in and learn lessons from.) The goal for 2019 was "To Live Without Fear."...

There’s been a multitude of things tumbling thru my head on low the past while. Mostly things about food and when I can eat again and being incredibly lonely. Like so lonely I cry a lot because there seems to be little else to do. It really isn’t anyone’s fault but my own so I’m not complaining. Just stating things the way they are. It’s not like I’m pinning away for my other home 24/7. It’s not like I’m miserable here. It’s more like I remember the girl who lived in NYC and I miss her. And people give me the hairy eye ball and say I need to just be the same girl here then. Well, it just doesn’t work that way and no one understands that and maybe that’s why I feel so lonely. It’s hard to explain why I feel so completely at home and happy when I see a Muslim family walking through the mall. How I follow them a little too closely just to be in the presence of a different nationality and hear then speak.  It’s hard to explain how I still have to do double take in the grocery store whe...

"Redeeming every part of each day..." (taken from one of my favourite songs by Laura Story) Seriously. It hit me today, not like a ton of bricks, not like a wham in the face that catches you off guard, but more like a fog that suddenly disappeared and revealed a spectacular display. A scene you'd been told about, and imagined. Dreamed about, and prayed for, but never really thought you'd live to see. Until the moment you did. That moment happened today. And left me rather speechless. It's easy to say that the promises of God never fail. It's easy to say that He never leaves you hanging. But somehow it's completely different when you really experience it. Somehow it comes alive when you look back and actually see how God was faithful, every, single, time.  I'm seriously leaving New York City now. I have less than 72 hours left before I fly higher than the skyscrapers, and leave this city that has become my home. This last week was rough, to ...

I said this was going to be a rendition of my journey though New York, not some travel journal with food reviews. Kind of regret that honestly, cause it's so much easier to write about Halal carts or curry. I don't want to think about, much less write about the fact that LTO ended almost a week ago, and that in a little over two weeks I have to go back to Ontario. But LTO  ended. It didn't feel like the last time I was walking home from class. It didn't feel real that the past 6 weeks of classes were over. The people I got to smile at every morning were suddenly not a part of my day at all anymore. The banquet was fun, we all cleaned up decently. Even the teary goodbyes didn't feel real. These people were my family. I moved into Eric and Kate's apartment. White walls and green things and healthy food. Good people to debrief with. Good books to read. And yet there's that uncomfortable thing in the back of my head telling me to stop lying to myself. There...

Half over. One more blink and I will be packing up, and saying goodbye to the places and people who have become dearer than life to me. I will be driving home, probably crying my eyes out, all mad and grieved that life can't stay happy and safe. I'll probably pout at home for a while, rant about how much I hate the country and how much I miss my city. Eventually I'll get over reverse culture shock and settle down again. So why put myself through that then? Not gonna beat around the cherry tree.  God's doing some pretty cool stuff here. Brooklyn, NY  Last week was rough. There was so much happening at home and other places that was stealing so much brain space. I was exhausted. This week I look back and I'm just in awe at how much the city has changed me. Or maybe it isn't in fact the city. Maybe this is something much more. God is showing me his heart for his people. His people beyond just me and my world. His big plan. His plan for the world. His plan to ...

Maybe I mixed Spanish and French. Anyway. Hola from the real Big Apple. I’m actually here. Settled, living, breathing, and drinking in NYC. Spring is here. The glorious sunshine gave me a tiny baby tan the other day. The flowers are in full bloom, and walking down the street is a wonderful combobulation of daffodils, dogwood trees, trash, a fish market, and the occasional whiff of bus exhaust. Every other face I meet is a different nationality. Hindu woman with a red dot on their foreheads. Muslim ladies in beautiful flowing hijab. Dear old wrinkled Chinese men selling hot soup. Mexican taco trucks, the Halal Guys, Bengali girls going home from school in uniform, and pretty much everything else in between. It’s such a wonderful, beautiful, drastic, sad clash of culture, light, and darkness. Anything from walking past the buddhist temple and seeing a monk perform a ceremony over a new vehicle, to the massage parlour two doors down with suspicious activity. The sun rises and set a e...

I was brushing my teeth tonight, getting ready for bed and thinking about this blog post. I was trying to figure out of it would be infringing on copy rights to name this series the New York Times. I decided it probably is and I should come up with some catchy phrase on my own. Then I wondered why. Why do I care if people read this? Why do I care about words and feelings and life? I don’t know. I just know I can’t do surface. I go deep or I don’t go at all. So yes, this series is about my stay in the Big Apple, but it won’t be a light travel journal with food and hotel reviews if that’s what you were hoping to read. This first one is being written at 12.00 in the morning, on the rec room couch in Southern Ontario. It’s cold and smells like chickens outside. I’m not in New York. But that’s part of the journey. The getting ready leading up to part.  It was Saturday, Dec 29 when I got an email wondering if I would consider going to New York. It was unexpected, since I wasn’t pla...

Cañon City? Cool name.  Colorado? Who doesn’t want 15 degrees and sun?  Yeah I didn’t know what to expect. Sure, we fly to the west with our group of crazies and do some clothes sorting. See some cool mountains. That’ll be fun.  Three months ago something happened that nearly ended my life. Life as I knew it anyway. I shut down. Panic attacks, eating disorders, anxiety, self harm. The light in my eyes disappeared and I stopped smiling. It wasn’t that I wanted to give up. But the mountain was too high. I was running out of oxygen and my heart was starting to slow down. I remember nights where I tossed and turned all night, cried till I had such a bad headache I would beat my head against the wall because it helped relieve pressure. Nights where I’d curl up on the bathroom floor, unable to breathe, stuffing my blanket in my mouth to keep from screaming. Three months later, I stood at the edge of that mountain. And I look down and saw where I came from. Everything l...