Sob Story

Now, I'm not keen on playing the damsel in distress...but I guess falling to my knees and bursting into tears on the sidewalk kind of puts me in that category. I wouldn't have had to do that, though, if I hadn't spent the past hour and a half waiting inside my car with its front bumper kissing the rear bumper of an anonymous truck on a downward slope with a massive ice patch beneath me. I'm not sure if the tow truck I saw driving several blocks away was looking for me and had somehow misunderstood the address I'd given them, or if there were several people needing their services in the area. It's possible. All I know is I might as well have stayed in my car as soon as I'd realized my pickle and waited for the Scotts to come home. Instead, I figured I should walk to the nearest gas station and borrow a phone book. Which I did. I placed the call, then ran the five blocks back so I'd be there before the tow truck arrived. (Oh, and thanks to the random people in the car who put my already-racing heart into overdrive by screeching at me as they drove by. That was super.)
Most people who know me, know that my temper flares most when I'm driving. If they haven't seen it (few have), they've heard stories. Well, this was nothing like that. This was anger so sudden, strong, and fierce, I couldn't even speak. This was frustration so intense I didn't even have the urge to throw something. I was pretty much paralyzed in my seat with a twitching eye. After all, it was nearing 10:00, and I still had two hours to drive. I was already tired, and the road conditions were getting worse and worse the farther south I went; knowing that it was only getting icier and foggier with each passing half-hour made things infinitely more terrible. There was no one in the Scott house...Megan had left her house the same time I had, and the whole family was going to be out for the evening. A few people drove by, but I was so humiliated by my self-made unfortunate circumstance that I ducked down behind my steering wheel and tried to be inconspicuous.
Then, a familiar vehicle drove slowly by and pulled up to the curb on the other side of the truck. I watched with both relief and dread as the Scotts made their way to their house and, one by one, lights turned on at each window. Swallowing my pride, I sauntered up the concrete steps and through the porch door, then knocked timidly. The piano-playing stopped and Megan stepped out, rather shocked to discover that I'd been staked out at their house the whole time they were gone. I was so embarassed, I pulled her by the hand and led her back outside, where the starting line of this blog occurred. Her mom must've wondered who'd kidnapped her daughter, cause she came out a few seconds later. What a pitiful sight it must've been! But they were all wonderful, and Stefan and Megan whipped out their rippling triceps to push me free. Thank you, thank you, thank you Scotts! And thanks, Stefan, for saying you'd swear at the tow-truck guys for me...if they ever showed up.

It's amazing how much of a conscious effort we must make in our relationship with Christ sometimes. My experience has been to rely on Him so hardcore in the hard times that it's tough to imagine how anyone could survive a day without Him; then life hits these plateau times where it's like, "God? Oh yeah, Him. The guy I used to know."
Coming out of a tough period where I've drawn close to God out of necessity for my strength, hope, and joy, I've often sailed smoothly along on the sense those gifts have given me, and forget to actually spend more time with the Giver. Then those gifts slowly fade and I find myself in a spiritual panic, flailing blindly all around me in desperation. Even when good things are happening, there's no real joy or peace when I've fallen out of true communication with God.
Sometimes I get so caught up in my non-challenging communication with God that I forget what it's like to actually be close to Him and depend on Him. I have to remember that neglecting that relationship is an open invitation for walls to build up subtley and quickly, and taking them down can be a long, painful process.
But for all the work and frustration our spiritual life can bring sometimes, there's always this hope that I recently heard given at a children's lesson in church: giving yourself to God is a life-long process. There's not this one, single moment where everything is suddenly better. That happens when we die. Until then, God's strength is made perfect in our weakness and He "...is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love." He is so good!

Overwhelmed

On Sunday morning we (Megan, Aubree, Dena, Greg and I) were sitting at a Christmas cantata at Redeemer, and one of the songs reminded me of the Lord of the Rings. Suddenly, for no explainable reason, I was so overwhelmed by the realization that we all know so much about so many different worlds. For instance, think of all the movies you've ever watched and all the books you've ever read. Somewhere tucked away in your brain, you have information about each world that those mediums opened up to you. You can be sitting in the real world (church) and be transported to another world (Lord of the Rings) and also be thinking about the worlds of your friends sitting beside you and your family 5 hours away (because you also have information tucked away about the worlds of each person you've ever gotten to know really well, and information keeps being added on as you get to know people better and better)...on top of all that, you're watching more movies and reading more books and getting to know more people, you're getting to know yourself better and better, and as Christians we're getting to know God better and better, so that not only are we seeing all these intertwined worlds through our immediate carnal perspective, but we're (sometimes automatically, sometimes through great effort) trying to see things from a Christ-like perspective, which can throw things completely around sometimes.
And then suddenly you can be hit by the realization of all this at a time when you're already really tired ...which leaves you sitting frozen in a pew with a strong desire to cry, even though you can't identify what emotions you're feeling.
And then you can be typing all this and realizing that you're an absolute retard for not going to bed hours ago.

Stuff I've Learned

Last night I learned some valuable lessons, which I think I'd better pass along:
1. Being stalked and being kidnapped both count as leading men on. Don't let it happen to you.
2. Ice cream is a good way to convince me that your side of the story might be right.
3. There is always a plan and a destination...even if it involves driving to one end of the city, then turning right around and going back, and being cut short on Grosvenor by emergency vehicles so that the only smooth maneouvre is pulling up to Jerry's.
4. No shoes, no service...but slippers are okay.
5. No matter what I'm watching on TV, as soon as someone else joins me, the show will suddenly turn sketchy.
6. Nate's "being sweet" face looks a lot like a "crap, she wasn't supposed to look behind the fence" face.
7. Ben's subconscious is slowly eating away at his brain.

Odds 'n Ends

I'd like to clarify that, although my last blog was a pile of crap, there was some truth to it. I definitely did meet a Ryan (last name changed to protect his privacy) this summer at a family dinner and games night that his mom (my co-worker) invited me to, hoping we'd hit it off and start dating eventually. And it truly was that awkward. Aren't preconceived notions wonderful?
On another note, today was my last regular day at the care home. Even though I'll be back every other weekend, it still felt like I was saying good-bye to ten grandmas I've come to love a lot. I can't even describe how I'll miss seeing them almost every day (in the past 11 months, I haven't gone more than 4 days without being there), and I definitely cried like a baby on my commute home. But tomorrow I'll start working at SAI, and I'll have a whole other set of people to fall in love with.
Oh, and there's been another new development in my professional life. SAI now wants me Monday to Friday, so I'll have to quit my casual position at Cosmo. Now I'll only have two jobs instead of three...kind of a relief!
One last thing to mention that's kind of funny. My house in Frontier had skunks living under it for the longest time this winter, and anyone who came to visit would leave with a nice, not-so-subtle stench on their clothes. It's funny because my mom teaches piano, so she had students coming and going all the time. Our house was stinking up these poor, innocent kids...I can laugh because I'm not living there right now.

Ryan

For those of you out there who read Challis's comment on my last blog, here is an explanation: go to www.cs.usask.ca/~sgs331/index.html, and there you'll learn a lot about the secret lives of the Saskatoon gang, mine included. Somewhere in there is a newspaper article about my recent engagement to Ryan Fitzgerald. We met this summer when his mom decided I was perfect for him, and then had me over for dinner so we could meet. Needless to say, the conversation did not take off in any way, shape, or form. There were only a few curious glances exchanged over a meal and a game of Balderdash. We didn't see each other again for several months, and my hope slowly ebbed away into nothing. Then suddenly, I was out for a walk on the train bridge (as I've been known to do from time to time), when suddenly I saw a kitten wandering slowly along the tracks. The poor thing was so confused and afraid...especially since the tracks were shaking. A train was on its way! My long legs carried me swiftly across the safety barrier, and I grabbed the kitten and turned around to jump back over the fence, but my foot became wedged between two planks and I couldn't move! I tossed the kitten to safety, and the selfish thing ran away, giddy to be alive but totally forgetting her rescuer. While pulling frantically on my leg, I saw the train round the bend and start on the bridge toward me. It whistled loud and long. I was so panicked I could only see black.
Suddenly, my foot shot out of my shoe and I started to fall backwards off the bridge! Just then, a pair of strong arms flew around me and pulled me to safety, then carried me over the fence as the train blew past with the speed of a bullet.
I looked up into my hero's eyes....
he looked down into mine...
recognition flashed like a match struck in the darkness, and somehow we knew...we knew...that we were meant to be together.
He proposed right then and there.

Class & Crass

Life is funny. On Sunday afternoon, a bunch of us went to see the Greystones singing in a beautiful church where the acoustics made each song so powerful I wanted to cry...especially the "Hallelujah" chorus...did anyone else out there NOT know that you're supposed to stand when it's performed? Well, I didn't. I was so shocked that Nathan was classy enough to know the proper procedure, but when I asked in amazement how he knew, he shrugged and said something to the effect of, "That's just what you do. Everybody knows." Something to do with a king who got tired of sitting hundreds of years ago, so he stood up during that song and everybody joined suit. Apparently we haven't stopped joining suit since.
Then on Monday evening, we went to "Lions in the Street", a university drama production. I will not lie...the heroine was amazing, her acting was absolutely incredible, and I am proud to be her room mate twice removed. But...oh, awkward...there was stripping and swearing and things that I do not feel free to even type about, especially on the off-chance that my little sisters will read this. Much of the production was performed outside the blackness of my snapped-shut eyelids. And I learned that you can raise the sound level of your thoughts so that you don't have to hear the external world.

My Name

I love my name. It is an unending source of amusement to hear people try it out for the first time, usually with a very tentative look in their scrunched-up eyes and slightly-tilted heads. Usually I get Kiersti, Jersti, Kersti, Kajersti, Kristi...you know, the usual. But today at Cosmo, I had several workers call at me from across the room. They're not afraid to call me what they truly think my name was pronounced upon our first introduction, no matter how unorthodox. So today I was Turkey, Cherkey, Jerky, and Thirsty. In all seriousness, too. There were many other renditions, but none that can really be spelled, since the sounds and syllables weren't actually identifiable.

The second most-asked question in my life (after "How do you say your name again?") is "Do you get sick of people mispronouncing your name?" The answer is no. I laugh. Many times. Usually just in my head.

His Rod and Staff

This may be fairly redundant...but I guess sometimes redundancy helps us remember things more easily when our brains are too stressed to process information on its own. Anyway, I was just reading the 23rd Psalm, and there's the part that goes, "Your rod and your staff, they comfort me." When I read that passage one time in Medicine Hat, it struck me that God didn't take the Psalmist out of the valley of the shadow of death. He simply led him through that hell, and the Psalmist's only comfort was in keeping his eyes on the rod and staff. He was still in the valley, but his eyes were on something far greater than the evils around him, following it with childlike trust. And Peter on the water...up until he faltered and sank, his impossible circumstance was not affecting him because of where his focus lay. Then when he lost his focus, grace was extended anyway...jeepers, it really is true that we can never fathom God's grace. It's the only reason we ever truly grow in our relationships with Him. He is amazing!