On record

This morning I woke up to a cool, damp wind blowing in my wide open window, and withdrew deeper into my thin, well loved blankets, wrapping myself tighter, and just lay there.   I stretched over, and grabbed my book - without glancing at the clock.  And i just lay there and read.  Not a French book, because I want to keep up my French over the summer.  Not anything that might be getting me ready for my upcoming classes.  Not information about prerequisites and programs.  Not advertisements for furniture or locations of stores.  Just a book, that I'd already read, and wanted to read again.  I sat in my dimly lit room, curtains mostly drawn, and read by the sunlight streaming through the fabric, even my fingers covered by my quilt.  There in the quiet, reading a book that really makes me think about relationships, trust, forgiveness, and unconditional love.  When my dad left with my brother, I ventured outside with the two dogs (one my mom's, one my grandma's).  After traipsing around in the forest for a few minutes, I came back up to the house, tethered the dogs, and lounged in a chair half way up the driveway, with my book.  From where I was sitting, it was like the driveway led strait to the blue sky, which had been light-heartedly dabbed with whispy white clouds.  God the free-spirited artist.  I sat, jeans rolled up and shoes kicked off, effortlessly reading, soaking up the sun.  I haven't read because I wanted to in a very long time.  In fact, I'd begun to wonder how I once loved it so much.   But this morning, reading in the sun and remembering summers gone by where all I did every day was read.  I read in the grassy field behind my house.  I ead in my bed.  I read on the bridge that crossed our little creek, shaded by two arching alders.  I read until I my eyes were stinging and the words were blurred and I could barely change the page - I read late into the night, until I reached the back cover, set the book finished on the floor, and sunk instantly  into my dreams.  What pure pleasure to have rediscovered. 

The weeks have been going by with such an alarming, yet teasingly menotenous speed, and I can feel the sudden limits of time rushing within me.  There are so many things that I want to do while I'm home - and now, a rapidly decreasing amount of days in which to do them.  This July has been one of the Victoria's driest July on record, and it's gone by faster than any I remember.   Maybe it's because in the Sun, the days go by lightly, and with my set schedule, I rise, work, and sleep while the days just roll on by.   

Shortly after coming home, I was sitting waiting for Justin's Poetry Slam to start, when he caught me off gaurd by asking what my goals were for the summer.  I  had some pretty lofty plans.  And I'm beginning to feel that shaming guilt that begins to creep up near the end of January when you first realize how little time  it took to give up on a New Year's Resolution, and decide to wait until next year.   I'm not going for long runs on a regular basis.  I'm not filling my days with the beach or the forest.  I haven't seen my friends very often.  I'm not spending much time with my Saviour.   I haven't skyped, emailed, or written often to my friends from school.  Any school.  But the summer's not over, and although I know I've grown up in so many ways this year, I'm still not that great at allowing others to know my failures.  So, now that more than just Justin, who has hopefully forgotten that little exchange, anyone who reads this can potentially keep me accountable.  So, with my one month left, I'm going to try to at least work towards the most important of these things.  

But I have at least done some things worth doing since my last post:

What? A nice picture of Emily and I?

On July 17, Michelle and I successfully kidnapped Emily and went on a little adventure to Vancouver in celebration of her birthday.  Michelle and Emily went to purchase bus tickets right after we snagged a table on the ferry, and while they were gone I set up a breakfast feast, complete with balloons.  We enjoyed our croissants, deli meat, and cheese, along with some lemonade and strawberries, and as soon as we had cleaned everything up, we grabbed the balloons, and headed outside.  I don't want to ever go on a ferry without balloons again!  It was so much fun walking around with them, watching them blow around in the wind, laughing at the expressions on other people's faces when they saw the three of us being silly.   In Vancouver, we went to the Art Gallery, and attempted to go to a festival, but instead just found an enitre downtown street blocked off, and covered in astroturf.  There were no buskers, no tents, very few people, only a few randomly placed sections of chairs, which would have been pefrect for musical chairs, and a booth from a local radio station.   According to the schedule, we should have been an hour into a 4 hour event.  Uh-huh.  Weird? I think so.  After a short amount of time being, well, not really lost, because we knew where we were, but sort of lost, since we weren't sure how to get to where we were going, we managed to get some good directions, and safely made it back to the bus station and then to the ferry, and then to Emily's, where we finished off the day with a more mature (?) sort of Lemonade, and a silly, musical movie.  Oh yeah, and, with my dad sending me a text message to tell me there is a new baby goat at my house.  A bundle of joy for some! And even I admit, it is cute.  For now.

On the way home from Vancouver, Just before returning our "Victim"

I also wanted to share two random experiences from work, one serious, and one fun.  Fun first!  It is now almost midnight, since I've been blogging on and off all afternoon/evening, and I am too tired to remember if I've mentioned the little contests my co-worker, Steven, and I have trying to find the best "uniform" for the other, in terms of the most hideous things possible.   Well, we now have gotten the warehouse, where my dad works, on board.  July 26th was my dad's birthday, and as a little surprise I put together a fiesta in a box.  Since he's ridiculously obsessed with the Ford Fiesta, and wants desperately to buy one in "Lime  Squeeze" green, I made him a green sombrero, and put it in a box with some balloons, cake, party hats, and noisemakers for his friends at the warehouse.  I gave it to the guys on the truck who bring stuff back and forth, and off it went!  Now, I'm not sure if it was retaliation for the very beautiful green, tasseled, gigantic hat I made him wear, or if it was for telling everyone he worked with it was his birthday, or if it was just because he wanted to get in on our little game.  But the next time the truck came, they brought a box for my manager and I.  Inside was a very outdated, very stained dress, along with a white felt hat with a bunny face, a wig, two ugly coats, some green nylons, and some neon orange high topped converse, along with instructions to take a picture.  I'll have to add the picture on my next post, because I think Dad has my camera right now, and I haven't uploaded the photo yet.  Or I could save myself some embarrassment and not.  But I love to make people laugh, even at my own expense once and a while!

The more serious was just a brief moment of realization.  Somehow one of our carts had ended up way down the road from our store, and I was asked to go and retrieve it.  Pushing the cart back along the Island Highway, (which, for those of you who aren't from here, isn't really a highway at this points, it is a well travelled two lane road through a residential area with a speed limit of 50km) I couldn't help but feel people's eyes on me.   And as I walked, trying to laugh at how silly I must look, pushing an empty cart down a road with no stores, dressed for work, I was filled with the strangest feeling.  Maybe it was a realization, or a humbling of sorts.  Hearing the wheels rattling on the paved shoulder and gravel beneath me,  sensing the skin on my back begin to tingle as I overheated in the mid morning sun,  feeling my hands start to itch and turn red from the vibrations of the cart that I was gripping, and reading the word "Salvation" which was the only part not covered my my uncomfortable hands, I was touched in a way that I can't really describe.  I am thankful for the life that I have.  I'm thankful that I've never had to put all my belongings in a cart, and push my poverty around in a visible way, suffering the judgements of others, and the harshness of our capitalist world.  I am thankful that I haven't been in the position of watching a love one struggle in that way.  I am thankful that I am working for an organization that is trying to improve lives.  And I am SO grateful for the love and forgiveness of Christ, who is my salvation!  My hands stung for half an hour after my little walk ended, and I sunk back into my routine at work.  I think I appreciate my job a little bit more now though.

I am also thankful to have had the opportunity to spend time with friends this week.  On Tuesday, Justin and I met downtown, and spend the evening in some of Victoria's most beautiful spots, just talking about life.  This is what I'd been missing.  It's not so much the big adventures or exciting plans that I needed.  I think that for most of my life I've really taken the opportunity to just see and be with my friends for granted.  And I really love just sitting down to talk.   There are so many "things" that I want to do, and sometimes I forget that friendship can be so much deeper than just having company for watching a movie, or having someone to go for a run with.   More then anything, I just really want to KNOW people, and be a part of their lives as they are a part of mine.  It was so wonderful to feel the air cool, and watch it get dark, and even when we were getting too tired to carry out a normal conversation, it was nice to just be hanging out together.   Perhaps next time though, we should plan our time a little better.  After deciding to miss the bus leaving town at 9, we were very close to missing the bus leaving at 10.  We sprinted down the street and across the thankfully-almost-carless four lane street, and just caught the bus.  As amazing as the evening had been, somehow I don't think waiting until 11:30 for a bus that would take over and hour to get home would have been a good idea.  Especially because we both had to work early in the morning.

This week has also been an exciting week for mail.  Veronica and I had a mail race, and her letter arrived at my house first.  So I think maybe we tie? Because I got one first, but hers arrived first?  Perhaps establishing more clear rules for the future would be a good idea, should we actually want to compete.   I love letters.  And I'm discovering that I enjoy sending them as much as receiving them.  I love how exciting it is to find one in the mail.  I love feeling the excitement build as I try not to open it until I get home, or when I know one's coming, I love the anticipation of opening the box each evening.  And I love knowing that I'm going to surprise someone.  Life's better when it's full of good surprises, isn't it?

And as much as I'd like to tell you about some other funny stories, I should probably save them for another day.  I'm sure my writing is becoming incoherent, as I can barely think properly right now, and I can't really read what I'm typing.  So I wouldn't be surprised if it's giberish.  Who knows, maybe I'll even write you a letter about how my pastor's been teasing me about a mystery man who's going to be visiting our church in a few weeks, and supposedly would be perfect for me.

Off the record,
If anyone knows of a good way to get myself out of this merciless teasing, or if anyone would like to come to church with me on that day and be more impressive then a football playing soon-to-be fireman, I'd appreciate the favour.