October 27

October 27

Windsor, the town we are staying in with Amber’s Grandparents, is the “Little Town of Big Firsts.”  There have been lots of firsts for me so far: First time in Atlantic Canada, first time seeing the funny looking, shy pheasant with it’s bright feathers, a porcupine (though, it was dead), and the beautiful soft, playful bluejays.  Today we took a road trip away from the town, which is known best for it’s gigantic pumpkins (the first to grown them for competition, race them as boats...go crazy over them...), and as the home of the pond where Hockey was first invented.  We drove through Nova Scotia, took photos with a giant statue, stopped at Tim Horton’s (Which is more than a daily occurrence here), and stared at the beautiful landscape.  We got to the ferry just in time, drove strait on, parked the car, and turned the engine off as they closed the door and pulled away from the doc.  We had lunch, and then I, not able to contain myself, excitedly headed outside to walk around in the wind, stare at the waves, and watch as Prince Edward Island grow from the skyline, while Nova Scotia disappeared.  I loved being on the ferry, though, as I opened the door to head outside, I realized that I hadn’t brought a balloon, which was sad.  (See my July Posts).  Only that could have made the trip better.

It was a rainy day throughout the Atlantic Provinces, so we stayed in the car and drove through a good chunk of the Island, making a few stops for Tim Horton’s, the “World Famous” Cows Icecream (which is supposedly one of the top 10 creameries in the world.  I disagree.), and the Anne of Green Gables store.  We didn’t have enough time to make it to Cavendish where we could have seen the house, as the weather was getting worse and we wanted to make it back most of the way before dark.  I’m going to have to return to PEI in the summer, I can just imagine the crisp contrast of the red dirt, the blue sky, the white lighthouses, and the green grass.  It was beautiful even on the dullest of days.  On the way back we crossed the Confederation bridge in to New Brunswick, and directly after we arrived, it began to pour so hard that we could see only the colour and outline of trees and telephone poles through the streaming water on our windows.  As the little light that was making it through the clouds began to fade, a thick hazy fog surrounded us.  So, while I may have spent a couple of hours in Nova Scotia, for all I’ve seen, there could have been palm trees or polar bears, and I wouldn’t have known. 

After a stop for some delicious chili, we returned to Windsor around 9 at night, and spent the remainder of the evening relaxing, and, in my case, writing.  

I’m not looking forward to getting back into school mode.  Vacation is so much more enjoyable, and I’m convinced I could learn almost as much. (Ok, maybe not almost.  But I’m learning some! )

October 26

I hope that one day, my house will be a place where even a complete stranger can feel at home.  It’s not because of the ocean, or the trees.  It’s not just because we can lay back and relax.  It’s not because they love and spoil us.  It’s that little something extra, that blissfully indescribable feeling, kind of like the taste of pure fresh cool water on a warm day.  It dances around your mouth and slides down your throat. It quenches your thirst, rejuvenates, comforts, and leaves you satisfied.  

Nova Scotia is beautiful.  It is a breathtaking combination of natural beauty with an added touch of quaint, artistic, easy-going personality.  It is magnetic and magical.  We’ve spent many hours driving along roads which gently lead up and down hills, and around abstract turns through rolling fields and pituresque forests. Even though it is definitely past the peak of autumn, the leaves are still bright with impossibly saturated gold, orange, and red.  I love the historic beauty preserved in the houses, elaborate gravestones, and even the shop signs.  I love the coastal pride - fishing nets, lobsters, shells, and boats decorate restaurants and boutiques which sell fresh bread, warm soup, honey, pottery, and trinkets.   There is a certain style - maybe it’s the way that homes are situated on property, or the contrast of colours, or the folk-art tin stars which hang on most houses.  Maybe it’s as complex as the architecture.  But something ties each of the places I’ve seen together.  We’ve dipped our fingers in beautiful lakes, stood    braced against the wind, standing away from the powerful waves of an angry atlantic ocean, jackets zipped, hair flying, eyes watering, voices raised to try and overpower the magnificent sounds around us.  We’ve watched the sun rise, the birds, and the rain.  

Last year at thanksgiving, a friend of mine introduced me to someone, who said “you’re in first year, aren’t you?” My friend mentioned how she thought I looked older than I was, and asked how she could tell.  And the girl said, “because you don’t have bags under your eyes.”  The other day, I was alone in the elevator on my way home from school.  I was looking in the mirror, and realized that with the exception of bangs, I currently have the same haircut I had in grade nine.  I remember being so in love with the way my hair had begun to curl, thinking it made me look grown up and beautiful.  And that was the point my eyes shifted from my curls to my face - and discovered the bags under my eyes.  

I’ve had lots of time to sleep, to relax, and to think only about things which give me pleasure this week - and the bags are still there.  “That’s what school does to you.  It drains your youth away. You can always tell how many years you’ve been in school by how dark the bags under your eyes are.” 

This week we’ve practiced drinking water upside down from the wrong side of the cup (a proven hiccough cure), “Danced our pants off” with Richard Simmons, watched 4 ridiculous, either girly or nerdy movies (one of them more than once), and lay awake having conversations on par with those I may have had at 13.  So, tease if you must, but I could say that what I’ve been doing this week may be the ultimate anti-aging strategy. I’m having a relaxing, exciting, and extremely fun reading week, and loving every moment of it.

And don’t worry, I actually have opened my books once or twice. 

October 22

For Thanksgiving, Amber and I put a large section of brown wrapping paper on our wall, along with some markers, each held to the wall with a large wad of sticky tac.  And for the last two weeks, anyone who’s passed by it have been adding things they are thankful for: socks, mashed potatoes, toilets, rain, friends, laughter, beds...literally almost everything, though, strangely, the kitchen sink hasn’t made it up there yet.  But next time I see it, I’ll add it on.  Today was the last day of a two week period which has been crammed with exams, papers, and presentations for everyone at school.  In fact, the campus and surrounding areas have been noticibly quieter.  As of 10:00 tonight, the University’s first fall reading week, has begun.  And I feel like I’m just one of thousands finally taking a moment to breathe.  After handing in my last assignment, I rushed home from class, grabbed my suitcase, packed a few final things, and left with Amber for our journey “down east.”  3 Busses later, we made it to the airport, and then finally to Nova Scotia, where we met Amber’s Grandparents who drove us to their home just outside of Windsor.  

For the last two weeks I’ve watched the brown paper become more and more filled with colourful words.  I have been so, so blessed to be where I am, to have the friends I have, to know things and be learning more every day, to be loved and accepted for who I am.  And I am thankful! I live in a beautiful, vast, large country.  I can talk to, visit, and discover places thousands of kilometers from my home.  

This week is going to be a week of adventure, a week of relaxing, and a week of getting caught up with life - yes, life.  Not just school.  And hopefully, that will mean updating my blog as well...if not...well, next time I see you, I may talk for hours....potentially days.  Keep your fingers crossed!

Published a while after writing...

I started writing this a while ago, in between classes/getting ready for thanksgiving.  This week is going to be really busy for me, so I wanted to just post what I have, so that I'll be a little less behind when I finally have some time to blog again.






sum·mit  (smt)

n.

1. The highest point or part; the top.

2. The highest level or degree that can be attained.

3.

a. The highest level, as of government officials.

b. A conference or meeting of high-level leaders, usually called to shape a program of action.

v. sum·mit·ed, sum·mit·ing, sum·mits

v.tr.

To climb to the summit of (a mountain).

v.intr.

To climb to the summit.

---

[Middle English somet, from Old French sommette, diminutive of som, top, from Latin summum, from neuter of summus,highest; see uper in Indo-Eu

                                                                                                                                                        

As I take a break from turkey dinner preparations, conversations about thanksgiving plans, and thinking of the massive amount of work that I've piled up which i need to get through this weekend, I'm reflecting over my experience this past week.  And I've come to realize, that this is one of those rare occasions where I am so incredibly thankful for a few people who pestered me.  

No Tim, I'm not talking about you.

September was filled with transitions, getting back into the flow of school, and being told to go to Summit.  Over, and over, and over again.  I now understand the heartfelt intent behind the constant poking, teasing, and questions.  

Summit is an annual fall retreat that happens across the country.  At each "Summit," students from various Campus for Christ groups join together for a weekend of friendly rivalry, relationship building, and most importantly, growth in faith.   

Friday evening, I rushed home after my class ended at 4, and madly ran around the apartment trying to get everything packed, and leave the place in some sort of semi-organized chaos.  At least I succeeded at half of this plan.  Cassie met Amber and I at our place, and the three of us, along with all of our stuff, bussed back to campus for 5:30.    There, we were given some extremely lovely blue headbands - team unification, apparently, and waited for the school bus which was to take us on a 3 hour journey to Saint-Saveur, Quebec.   I love somehow, no matter what the purpose of the bus trip seems to be, or how old we are, school buses bring out the singers in all of us. I'm thankful for the patience of bus drivers... 

 Disney, Veggietales, Worship Songs, Middle School Songs, French Songs, English Songs.  Song competions.  What a way to travel!  I'm surprised I even had a voice left at all by the time we made it to Camp Kannawana, the YMCA camp which was hosting students from uOttawa, Carleton, Queens, McGill, and Concordia for the weekend.  


We set our stuff up in really nice cabins, played apples to apples, and then went to our first worship session.  The building that we were worshiping in was FREEZING, but that aside, the time that we spent there over the weekend was absolutely amazing.  Being in the middle of a large group of students, singing at the top of their lungs, praising with every bit of breath and meaning inside of them...aah! There are no words!! SO incredible.  


Beyond the sheer joy of  a weekend in the woods with my friends, Summit challenged me in my faith.  It was wonderful to be removed from the noise and busyness of the city, and to be surrounded by beautiful creation, spending time alone with God.  It help me to realize how silly some of my fears are - and to make a commitment to conquering them.  That began with evangelism on campus...terrifying, but worth the pounding heart.