Grief, Growth, and Grace

I was always afraid of breaking a bone. I thought it would be agony and that the pain would be overwhelming. Then I broke my wrist and sat in emerg for 11 hours and realized that breaking a bone wasn't that bad; it was just super inconvenient. The worst part of breaking a bone is not the initial break... it’s how long it takes to heal.

It kind of reminds me of grief. The initial break is shocking; it stuns you and you don't fully grasp what is happening. Coming to terms with how your life will change can be overwhelming to think about. You have moments of emptiness and you have moments filled with questions. If you are like me, you will try and convince yourself that you are fine. But the truth about healing is that the pain doesn't leave just because you declare that you are fine. Healing begins when you see your pain for what it fully is and allow God to be the healer of your heart.

If this past season has taught me anything, it has taught me that God delights in us running to Him with our broken hearts. I think that as we learn to do that more, we realize how much we need Him and we learn how to surrender the deepest parts of ourselves.

Finally giving myself permission to grieve, to be sad, and to be upset, was a step into freedom in a way I couldn’t have imagined. It was never a case of faking fine to the people around me; I had truly convinced myself that I was fine. I never knew how much I held back before. Holding things back is not only dishonest to yourself but it puts up a wall between you and God. It can make you feel more in control of your life, but control does not equal freedom.

One thing I really underestimated was the random hits of grief. Every time I drive up to my friend’s house, I have to mentally prepare  myself that they have one less sweet girl excited to greet me. I was watching a show and a character had her name. Hearing it felt like a punch to my stomach. I have learned that you will have good days where you believe you have come through it and you will have days when being happy seems so out of reach. In those days, there are are  three essential things to remember:

1. Give yourself grace. Not every day will go as planned, and that is okay. As someone who loves planning my days and getting a lot done, I have had to let that go. Be kind to yourself.

2. Give yourself space. When things don't go as planned, when you get hit with grief, when you just feel sad, don’t be afraid to give yourself space to feel it. Sit with God, let others pray for you, and don’t put an expectation on how long it will take.

3. You will not be here forever. “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:19

I used to be so afraid of pain. I used to be afraid to feel it because I thought it would swallow me up. I wanted to just “be positive”, but being positive wasn’t honest. Being honest is messy. But once pain is felt and experienced, that is when the healing process begins.

Agape Valley - One of my favourite places in the world

We all seem to go through a season in our life (or multiple) where we feel out of place in ourselves. We question who we are, what we are capable of, and who we want to be. And no matter when or where these seasons, I have found that there will be people who see the best in you and will call it out in you.

Picture an awkward 8th grade girl. She is not quite comfortable in her own skin. She wants so desperately to do well and is so afraid of failing her own expectations of herself. She yearns to be seen, to be noticed and to be different. She wants to lead but is afraid of asking for a chance in case she fails. In her mind if she fails, she will lose her chance to lead and it will prove that she can’t do it.

That was me as I went to Agape Valley to be a leader at their summer camp. It has always been hard for me to express to people why I love that place so much. That place for me was where I started feeling more confident in myself and my abilities. It was the place that I first considered myself to be a real leader.

In one of my first summers there, we were short staffed a couple weeks. This meant that I was given opportunities to take on roles usually taken on by staff a few years older. I was never told “this might be too much for you” or “its okay if you can’t handle it”. I was told that I could do it and to ask questions when I needed to. If mistakes happened, it was okay as long as they were fixed. The weight of being trusted to carry out what needed to be done didn’t ever feel like a burden, it felt like a privilege.

There is something truly special when adults are committed to bringing the best out of you. At Agape I felt empowered, I felt loved for exactly who I was (even if I didn’t know who that was), and I felt heard. It never felt fake or overdone. It was pure and genuine.

featuring Joel Galenkamp about to devour pancakes.

I think that is how God loves us, exactly where we are. Even if you are an awkward 8th grader or a slightly less awkward 21-year-old, He takes the time to love you for where you are at and has so much grace for all your awkward moments.

I got to go back to Agape last weekend for their maple syrup days and it blows my mind how happy it made me just to be there again. I think it will always be one of my favourite places.

Ps. If you want to go to their maple syrup days there is only 2 days left (March 24 and April 6). All the proceeds go towards their Summer Bible Camp to make it more affordable.

Adrienne Thiessen - her calling and her heart

My calling?!
Let’s just say that getting “​here​” looked like God hitting redial until my line was no longer busy. I am so thankful for a God who pursues us, because apparently I know how to play hard to get. But no one is impossible to get for God.

Currently I attend a school in California called Bethel School of supernatural Ministry. For those of you who have no idea what that is, Bethel is a church and this school is a ministry school, teaching on theology, leadership and to sum it up, Jesus. Whenever I go into detail about school, some people say it sounds like Hogwarts, which to me is awesome, because I have always wanted to attend. However, this school is way cooler than Hogwarts because instead of casting spells, we’re casting out demons (THAT IS A JOKE FOLKS!) That being said, we never limit our school days to what God is going to do amongst us!

My calling is to influence and inspire others through the love of Jesus. I am called specifically to young women, who struggle with body image, self-image and ultimately identity. I know this because this is the area in which I have been oppressed the most. Although, I encountered some of my most painful moments growing up, struggling with everything from alcohol and drug abuse to suicide attempts, these moments are now victories. I watched God turn my life around, at the simple lifting of my hands to surrender what​ I ​thought was best to what ​he knows is best.

The best part about my life being turned around and walking into my calling was that it did not require a 60 day plan on how to be a better person, rehab, or hard work; it only required yielding myself to God.

I was brought out here to California by the pursuit of God. I actually had no idea this school existed until a month before I applied, but I had a divine encounter with an old friend of mine (who is now a dear friend) walked into my work one day. We ended up reconnecting and she explained to me that she was going back in the fall to attend this “Bethel school of supernatural ministry” and the entire time she spoke about the school, my heart was on fire, which I had never felt before in my life, and though it did not make logical sense to where I was at in my life, everything in me knew I had to go. There was no doubt about it.

When God extends a gesture, you know.

I applied, got accepted, God provided tuition and rent, and within a month I was living out amongst the palm trees and mountains.

I have been on this journey for 6 months now, and it has, for lack of a less cliche description, changed my life. I do not say this lightly. I have been transformed, made new, and am continuously falling into new revelations of God’s love, because just in case you didn’t know, they do not end.

It hasn’t all been cupcakes and butterflies. It’s been a lot of crying, face on the ground sobbing, letting myself go enough so God can take over. It’s been messy, it’s been dark at times, but it does not compare to the light.
I’d love to say I no longer have problems with insecurities, depression and self-criticism, but the truth is, that I still battle these things. The difference is I now have God Almighty fighting by my side. These things show their faces and I just have to trust that when God shows his, they fall away, because darkness cannot hang around in the midst of light.

ESPECIALLY not the light of the world.

I am currently investing my time into spoken word and poetry, where I feel God releases a lot of truth and power through my voice. I am passionate about young women receiving their voices back, knowing who they are, and living in the identity of being a daughter of God Almighty.
When you live in that, truly nothing is impossible. That doesn’t mean life is pain free. It means you know the outcome is victory. So when you face battles, you can laugh and smile, or scream and cry…whatever calls to be released.

My heart is that everyone would step into their identity of being a child of God. There is nothing in this world that beats the freedom that comes with walking in who you were called to be.

An open letter to the little girl who changed my life.

I truly hope that one day you read this, because I mean every word. I love you sweet girl.

I met you at only a matter of weeks old. You were so tiny, I was afraid to touch you because you seemed so pure and fragile. I feared that I would break you. You scared me. Not because of anything that you had done, but because I was insecure. I believed that exactly who I was, was not enough, that I needed to learn everything about babies, before I could care for one well. I remember wondering how long you would be around. I remember looking at you, so tiny and believing that you were the beginning of a new season for my dear friend who would be your temporary mother.

I remember the first time I felt a real connection with you. I had watched you grow for many months and begun to feel comfortable. I watched you and your siblings the night before your family moved. All three of you were sick. I remember hearing you cry out. I hesitantly went into your room, picked you up and began to rock you in my arms. I remember praying “God, I don’t know what she needs, help me.” And then you fell asleep in my arms. My confidence soared. To be a person who is a safe place for a child is one of the most powerful and magical moments in the world. You taught me that.

As time went on, I got to watch your love for food grow. I was able to watch your hilarious and charming personality develop. I loved every minute. Being able to be a part of your life was such a gift to me and brought me so much joy. Then your little sister came along right before the summer and life got very hectic for your family, which honestly was a blessing for me, because it meant that I was around your family (and you) even more.

By the time fall came around, I was nannying you and your little sister a couple of mornings a week. She mostly slept, and I got to spend so much time giggling and playing with you. I watched you learn to talk and walk. I couldn’t get enough of you. We wouldn’t even do anything special; we would just be together. It was more than enough.

One of my favourite memories shows the very sweetness of you. I was making your lunch in the kitchen and you crawled up behind me and kissed me on the back of the leg. My heart melted as I said “Oh thank you, so sweet.” You then proceeded to kiss the back of my other leg and then back and forth for the next minute. You always made me laugh.

You were not necessarily a cuddly little girl. You were independent and I would always wait for you to come to me. I will never forget the moments when you weren't feeling well and you would come over to me on the couch and curl up in my lap and fall asleep. It was like that first beautiful moment together. I knew in those moments that you trusted me and loved me too.

The last time that we ever spent time together, just the two of us, I was cherishing every moment because I didn’t know when it would be the last time. You had just turned two and were starting to not look like a little baby anymore. I put you to bed, even though I wanted to snuggle and laugh with you longer and as I left the room, I said like I always did, “goodnight, I love you.” And for the first time, you replied and said “love you”. In that moment, things felt final. I felt like God had given me a gift of one last beautiful moment with you. Later, when I gave myself the space to process that moment, I broke like I had never broken before. I sobbed uncontrollably as I fully realized the absolute gift from God that you have been in my life for the past two years.

As I learn to say goodbye to you, I can’t help but be saddened that I don’t get to watch you continue to grow up. It has been beautiful to watch your story be so obviously written by God. From the family who fostered and loved you for the first two years of your life, to the amazing family who is adopting you and will love you forever, I am not worried about you. I know that God has you in His more than capable hands. But I am sad. My heart has truly been broken. But yet, I would have it no other way. I feel incredibly lucky to have been a small part of your story and to have gotten the opportunity to love you. That is a beautiful way to be broken.

I thank God that He put you in my life. He used you to teach me what unconditional love looks like. I used to always scoop you up into my arms and I always made sure to tell you that I loved you. So I hope that you know how much I love you sweet girl, thank you for changing my life forever. I hope that you are always able to know how deeply loved you are.

Accepting Adam’s Coffee and Joining the Exchange - By Nina Schuurman-Drenth

What is 541?

There is a place where businessmen sit next to homeless men; monks sit next to sex workers; students sit next to addicts.

541 is a restaurant on Barton Street East that calls itself an “Eatery & Exchange,” because we serve meals there, and more than that, we exchange our stories and our friendship with each other. 541 has a pay-it-forward program in which individuals who have a little extra change can buy buttons, and subsequently individuals who might not have the funds that day can use the buttons to pay for their meal. It's a beautiful opportunity for both parties to give and receive.

Anyone that has walked through 541's doors would likely agree: there's something about the place that is strangely peaceful and untroubled – starkly contrasting its surrounding neighbourhood, which is known for its prostitution, poverty, and crime. The whole building is a Spirit-filled refuge and light.

Adam Buys Me a Coffee

There’s a regular at the eatery - we’ll call him Adam - who saunters over from his apartment across the street every single morning, no exceptions. We all know Adam for having pockets full of kleenex packages. He loves to share his plastic-wrapped kleenexes with us, which is why if you ever peek into our back office, you’ll find it littered with bundles of tissues.

One morning, as I was sitting with Adam over breakfast, he casually asked if I would like him to buy me a coffee. I know Adam uses buttons to purchase his meals; I know Adam lives on ODSP; I know Adam “shouldn’t” buy me a coffee by any traditional understanding.

But I also know Adam wants to buy me a coffee; I know from my own experience how dignifying it is to be generous; I know that by saying no I’m robbing him of the honour he receives by giving. Beyond all that, I know how powerful it is to not extend charity but rather to exchange. I accepted his offer with gratitude.

Christian Hospitality

Being a part of the community at 541 over the years, as a volunteer, friend, manager, and prayer room host, has taught me that Christian hospitality is not about giving people who are needy something to fix their problems; it’s about finding Christ in the ‘other.’ Christian hospitality is a discipline in which the role of the guest and the host melt together and become indistinguishable.

At 541, we don’t give, we exchange. It doesn’t take long after sitting down with our regulars before being invited to join them in a board game or being offered small tokens of appreciation or being given a perspective you’ve never heard before in conversation. We give a coffee; they give a word of kindness. We serve them breakfast; they volunteer in the dishpit.

We are all made in the image of the One who came down to earth and spent His life as both a guest and a host. Christine Pohl writes that “the writers in the New Testament portray Jesus as a gracious host, welcoming children and prostitutes, tax collectors and sinners into his presence… But Jesus, God incarnate, is also portrayed as a vulnerable guest and needy stranger, one who came to his own home and received no welcome. In his life on earth, Jesus experienced the vulnerability of the homeless infant, the child refugee, the adult with no place to lay his head, the despised convict.” (17)

In this same way, we all, like Jesus, must learn to take on the roles of both guest and host. We must serve those who are suffering, but we also must be their guests. As as we join the exchange, the mystery is that, as Pohl says, “while such concrete acts of love are costly, they nourish and heal both giver and recipient.”