Insomnia Returns

"[Sleep is] the golden chain which ties health and our bodies together."-Thomas Dekker

Well, once again my insomnia has returned. I'm exhausted, and I can't seem to focus on anything very well. I recently broke down over a simple psychology assignment because I couldn't even formulate a sentence correctly, and spent hours staring at a blank screen with no idea how to finish (or even start) my work. Along with the insomnia, I've lost my appeptite and feel constantly weak and tired. I don't sleep very well at night, and any sleep that I do get happens between 6 and 11 am. Due to this, I've missed all but one day of school this week, which only increases my stress. I'm also troubled with strange and alarming dreams during these times where great harm always seems to come to people I care about.

Marc is a true blessing, especially during these times. He shares the burden of my stress and exhaustion with me, and he helps to do what is best for me. I know that it's hard for him to see me so weak and emotionally unstable. I don't know how I'd get through these times without him to encourage me. Thanks Marc.

This entry might be a little lacking in creativity or form, since I'm still pretty exhausted and not all there. It also doesn't help that there are three or four students next to me who can't seem to go five seconds without some blatant use of profanity. It's almost like a drug, and they're definitely addicted to it.

I know this vicious cycle of insomnia won't last forever, and when it's over, I hope I'll be back to more frequent and better written posts. Until then, I'll try and get some sleep.

The God box

"Is he safe? 'Course he's not safe! But he's good." - C.S Lewis, "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe"

When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. "Oh, my lord, what shall we do?" the servant asked. "Don't be afraid," the prophet answered. "Those who are with us are more than those who are with them." And Elisha prayed, "O LORD, open his eyes so he may see." Then the LORD opened the servant's eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.
2 Kings 6:15-17

Sometimes, I think we all forget the power of God. We pray, but don't really expect an answer. Maybe we envision God as a friendly old king on a fancy throne, and we forget what He can do. We expect Him to operate in safe, predictable little ways. We go to Him more for life insurance than out of gratitude for His unending love and desire to know His power.

When I first read this passage, and I mean really read it, I was blown away. How much does our shallow sight miss in this world? Just imagine, whole armies of angels jumping to our defense! There is a lot more going on underneath the veil of this world than we realize. Let it never again be said in my hearing that Christianity is boring!

When was the last time you, or I for that matter, rolled out of bed thinking "Wow! I am so psyched to go out into the world today and serve God!"? Something is amiss here. Why does Christianity have such a dull reputation?

I think we've tried to shove our big, awesome and mighty God into a nice, neat little box. We’ve tried our hardest to keep Him caged up, so He can’t try anything particularly dangerous or unpredictable, and I think He’s getting a little claustrophobic. We want the lamb without the lion; we want the excitement without the risk. We want Him to be tame, safe, like a house pet. And that’s just not who God is at all. And how can we get fired up about serving God when we can’t even accept who He is?

We’ve got to let the Lion out of the cage. God loves the wild; He loves change, and He loves risk. If you’re not sure how I know this, just take a look around you at the world He made. It’s filled with fascinating creatures that are definitely not “safe”, unpredictable weather, and changing seasons. We have to accept that side of Him as well as the gentle, meek and kind side.

If you ever see a picture of Jesus, it’s bound to be one where He is depicted as the most non-threatening guy you ever met. Not that this side of Him is bad at all, but I think we need one or two pictures which show Him a little differently. How about a picture of Him throwing down the temple tables or calling a crowd a brood of vipers? How about a picture of Him knocking an entire crowd of men to the ground with a single word? I can’t stand letting this world believe that the God I serve is boring and predictable – we have more than enough people like that in the world already. I say let the Lion loose!

I am not an accident

"Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body." -Elizabeth Stone

I've often viewed life as a huge puzzle, intricately complex, with many different pieces. Pieces are constantly being added or shifted by an unseen Hand, who wisely arranges our disorganized lives in such a way that we should be blessed with all we need. Sometimes, as the pieces shift and change, it leaves us feeling panicked and confused; for from our point of view, we cannot see the full picture, the wise plan of our Father; we only see the apparent disarray of our world, and feel as though God has forsaken us, when in fact He carefully holds and arranges our whole lives within the palms of His hands. When I look at my own life, I see His fingerprints all over it.

I was born on November 10, 1988 to a woman probably not much older than myself. She had hidden her pregnancy until the very last moment, when she went into labour. She had been terrified to tell of the life inside of her, as I can only imagine she must have been. Through the eyes of the world, I was a mistake - an accident, an inconvenience. But through the eyes of God, I was no mistake - He had plans for me. By His grace alone was I even born that day, rather than being aborted. His fingerprints were on my life before it even truly began.

I was not meant to remain in my birthmother's life. My piece had no place in this puzzle. My mother had the wisdom and the love for me to see that, and to make the remarkable sacrifice to give me the best life she could possibly find for me. Upon reading the quote above by Elizabeth Stone, I realized what a sacrifice my birthmother had made for me. She gave up her heart to give me a loving, deicated family, a large network of loyal friends, and all she knew that she could not provide.

God's wise hands have set me in the place He had designed for me in the beginning. His careful placement has allowed for countless wonderful people to be a part of my life - and to have a profound impact on it. Had my birthmother not made that heart-rending choice 17 years ago, I would never have met my many faithful friends, would never have met those I call my family, and never have received the love of my boyfriend and soulmate. So thank you to my birthmother, wherever you are. And thank you, above all, to God, for putting my life together.

For Maggie

"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Aristotle

Maggie and I shared everything - our deepest secrets, our interests and dreams, even our clothes. We'd talk on the phone for hours, and hardly a day would go by without one of us being at the other's house. At the age of maybe 8 or so, Maggie said she wanted to marry my brother solely so that we could be sisters. We always dreamed that somehow we were, perhaps not in body, but something deeper, something even stronger. I had vowed then that I would let nothing, nothing tear us apart.

We've been friends for 12 years, and in that time we've weathered our share of adversity. But we were always there for each other, to lend a hand or help to heal a hurt. We listened, we shared, we laughed and we cried; we faced both joys and sorrows together. Our friendship has successfully survived countless trials, each struggle only strengthening our bond. It seemed as though nothing could weaken our sisterly love. And nothing has. We still love each other dearly; but that seemless bond we once had has somewhat changed - as have we.

Change was the one thing I hadn't counted on. I knew that people did change as they grew older, but I had always figured (rather foolishly) that we would change in the same ways. And in some ways, we have; while in others, we are quite different. It's not that this puts a barrier on our friendship; we still are close, and after all that we have shared in this life, I believe we always will be. It will just be different from what I expected it would be back when I was 7. Our friendship hasn't lost it's strength, it's just changing, like we are.

Mags, I know that we're always going to be close. We may never quite have the closeness we once shared, but I still share a mind and a heart with you, even though our changing lives are tugging us in different ways. I want you to know that I love you and always will; that you have been a friend like no other, and that I would truly be lost without you. I've always feared two things: change and time; but I know we can face them together. I will never let our friendship die.

A world of truth

"What can you say about a society that says God is dead and Elvis is alive?" - Irv Kupcinet

It's easy to understand why some people end their lives when they are told by society that "all you see is all there is". There is no more depressing thought. To think, people actually stand and fight with all their strength, defending the bleak, hopeless idea that all there is to this life is to work hard for money that buys no joy, accumulate things that are left behind when you die, and seek success that doesn't satisfy. They fight against the terrifying thought that they are loved, cared for, and created for more than this world. Most of all, they fight against the fact that they have erred. Inside, a desire for more than this world gnaws at our hearts; an unanswered question fuels our every action. I've had many friends tell me they are not "religious". On the contrary, I have seen them worship their own gods fervently. At the core of our being is the desire to worship something much greater than ourselves. We all worship something: our jobs, money, loved ones and ourselves. Just because we wouldn't give these things the title of "God", doesn't change the fact that we devote our thoughts, time and energy to these things, and place them above all else. People say there is no proof for the existence of God. Even stranger is that these people have perfectly working eyes and minds. Seeing is not believing, but God has placed a lot of truth in His world for opened eyes to find.

God filled this world with evidence of Himself and His power, and with lessons to learn from nature. Looking at the stars must turn the stomach of any atheist. Such a complex, beautiful world cannot be an accident, it screams of a creator. It must be hard to look at the breathtaking scenery of this world and think, "What a beautiful accident!". What are the odds an asteroid hit a barren planet and made a whole world of things perfectly dependent upon eachother, who had all they needed to thrive? Atheists say they aren't religious, but it takes an awful lot of faith to believe something which contradicts their very design. If only Christians had their strength of faith, the world would be completely different.

Lessons are hidden all around. I learned a new one this weekend. A huge thunderstorm came, with lightning, and hail as big as golf balls. It seemed like the sky itself was falling, and like the sun would never shine again. And yet, the very next morning, the sky was a piercing blue and the sun shone all the more brightly in the sky. Many times in our lives feel beyond hope; it is as if our world is falling apart. "Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning." God proves this time and time again in His world, patiently re-teaching us each day. All we have to do is open our eyes and see it.

For Dave

"In the truest sense, freedom cannot be bestowed, it must be achieved." -Frankin D. Roosevelt

All of my life, I've looked up to my brother. He was - and still is my role model. He's going through a hard time right now, and through a lot of it, I struggled to understand and respect him the way that I always have. Sometimes it seems like the brother I know and love is gone, but I know that's not true.

I have so much respect for you, Dave. I may not show it as often as I should, but I know looking back that ever since I can remember, I've been trying to gain your approval and respect.

There are countless times in my life when I can remember my parents "ganging up on me." I've never had the skill of holding back tears when voices are raised, but I could always count on Dave to say the words that I could not, due to my blubbering. That didn't go unnoticed, and I'm deeply thankful for it.

As discussed in a previous post, I've hit some rough spots on my road of life thus far. During these times, I often felt like I was drowning in my own emotions. For a long time it seemed that no one quite understood how I was feeling, or didn't want to take the time to ask. During those times, Dave was always there with gentle, wise advice and an understanding of what I was feeling, even when I didn't understand it myself. Your wise words have helped me to get through so many hard times, and helped me to grow into who I am. Any wisdom I may have, I received from you. I love you Dave.

I know that there are a lot of difficult days in my brother's life where everything seems to be going wrong, and his world seems to be falling to pieces. It's only understandable that on those days, he may not return home in the brightest of moods. No, Dave, you are not a jerk, and you never were. Forgive me for being so over-sensitive to myself, and so under-sensitive to what you're going through. I want you to know that I respect you and love you so much! You are such an understanding brother and such a wise mentor to me. You have so many gifts and talents! It doesn't matter to me, or to anyone what you have on the outside. The reason I, and everyone who knows you, love and respect you so much is for your heart. You'll always be my role model.

Learning to See (my essay)

"We must simply allow the scales to be removed from our eyes, and learn to see."

I wanted to post an essay I wrote earlier this year that I am actually proud of. To me, a truly great work is made when you look at the page and realize you are staring your soul in the face, and this essay is the closest I've come to accomplishing that so far. It actually won a contest at my school, which is pretty exciting! So here it is:

How many of us have tried to slap a price tag on ourselves, to determine our own worth? If you did, what did that price tag say? Did it read worthless, or priceless? For too long, I went through life with the word worthless branded into my mind and my heart, and I learned just how big a difference those 5 letters can make.

When I was younger, the world was a sweet and wonderful place; a golden globe of opportunity. I was myself, and I loved myself. I learned that D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T spelled different, that I was unique, even special, and that there was no one else on earth quite like me. I learned that different was good. Some people were tall and some were short, some had blue eyes and some had brown, and that was good. Everyone was special, and everyone loved who they were. But suddenly a shadow fell on my perfect little world, a frightening intruder called reality. There was something different about me, very different, and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good thing. I had cerebral palsy. Somehow my naïve little eyes had managed to pass over that fact, to regard it as just another blissful little difference, no more serious than a freckle. Reality hit me like a wall when I realized that I could not run, that my friends often let me fall far behind them as they played, too absorbed in their childhood paradise to realize that I could not keep up, and probably never would. I became acutely aware of the training wheels on my bike that I would never be rid of, the metal canes I needed in order to stand, and how my wheelchair was beginning to be associated with my identity. The long white scar down my spine and deep ugly pink scars on my hips haunted me like phantoms, memories of surgeries and pain; they made me feel like even more of a freak. It dawned on me that some people who looked at me did not see a girl, but a wheelchair or canes. Some even saw something frightening – a difference. And from the looks on their faces, I learned that not all differences are good; in fact, some of them were downright bad. Soon that was all I saw in myself – the things that were different, and I craved to be normal.

As I grew a little closer to adulthood I grew painfully aware that the world was far from perfect, it was not all smiles and sunshine. It was flawed – and so was I. Cerebral palsy wasn’t my only fault. Standing in front of the mirror, other problems seemed magnified in my reflection: dark, bushy eyebrows, stringy hair, and a long nose. It was strange that my blind eyes could even point out such faults at all. Sure, I was an avid reader and could tell you how many fingers you were holding up if you asked me. I could see beauty in the sunrise and sunset, in a snow covered hilltop, and in the faces of friends and loved ones, but I was completely blind to any beauty in myself.

I had spent years circulating the same worn old thoughts through my head. “I’m a freak, a failure, a monstrosity.” Thoughts like these created a steady rhythm in my head. In my mind, I magnified my faults and failures while I made my successes and attributes miniscule. I’d often cry out to God “Why did you make me this way? Why did you even make me at all?” I stubbornly refused to see good in myself, only bad things stuck out. I chose to stay blind.
When I think of the events which slowly pulled me from my rut of self hatred, it was sounds, not sights which surface in my memory. I recall when my best friend got a new silver scooter, and I wanted to ride it so badly. I tried, but I could not balance for all my hardest effort, and I fell and cried more out of frustration and self-pity than pain. But my friend was determined. She wanted me to ride that scooter somehow, and she wasn’t giving up until she found a way. As I sat there crying, she tied an old wagon to the back of her scooter with a skipping rope, and grinning, told me to hop on; we were going for a ride. She pulled me all through town until she was out of breath. I’ll never forget the whir of the wheels on the cracked cement. In my memory I can still hear them. The sound reminds me that with the help of family and friends, I can do things I could never do alone.

Another sound that rings in my ears is the cold metal slam of the locking doors to the suicidal ward of the hospital. I watched a dear friend disappear behind them. I felt so confused and frightened then, and I couldn’t understand how such a beautiful person could have such intense hatred for herself. Cuts laced her forearms, scars she had given herself. She was so sweet, kind, beautiful, talented, and she could walk and run. Why couldn’t she see it? Then I realized she was blind, just like me. She saw only failures, faults and letdowns in the mirror. The reverberating thud of those doors drove into my heart how close I was to disappearing into that ward, too. While I helped my friend learn to get over her blindness, I vowed to accept my differences and not hate myself, before I ended up suffering as much as she did.

In the end, it was three little words which truly shattered my hatred of myself, “I love you”. When my boyfriend says those words to me, I’m reminded that there is good in me. He looks at me and manages to see enough good to easily overlook bushy eyebrows, and even canes and a wheelchair, to see a girl he loves. I was loved very much all my life by my parents, but there is something so much more different about someone choosing to love you over everyone else in the world. His love makes me delighted about who I am. Yet another “I love you” is evident everywhere I go, whispered in the wind, read in the starry sky, and engraved in the hands of One who loved me enough to give up His life. God made me, loves me, and even died for me, and because of this I have a worth beyond anything I could imagine. He shed His blood, and used it to write “priceless” rather than worthless on that price tag I bear.

The same is true for all of us. We are not mistakes, freaks, or failures. We are beyond price. We must simply allow the scales to be removed from our eyes, and learn to see.

Sweet Sorrow

"... for if joy is a fountain which rises in the sun, its springs are in the wells of sorrow unfathomed at the foundations of the earth." - J.R.R Tolkien

Some days you can't help but smile. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and everything is going your way - you're on top of the world. Other days, you're so low that a smile seems like a cruel mockery of your pains. You feel trapped in the valley of despair, and you're sure no one cares. Funny how it seems the sweetest joy rises from the ashes of deepest sorrow.

I've been there. I've stood under the crippling weight of sorrow and wondered why I should go on. For months, I hardly said a word to anyone. I was hardly more than a bitter shell of a girl. No wonder I could feel no joy; there was no room for it in my anger-filled heart. I felt lost in a darkness so much bigger than myself. I was battered and beaten, and no wonder, because character isn't shaped without a fight. Throughout this time, God was near to me; destroying my bitterness and self-pity, and guiding me not to focus on my disabilities, but on my abilities. He was preparing me for something, but at the time I would never have guessed how wonderful that something would be.

I can still recall when that black night lifted. God sent me a light - whose name was Marc. Patiently, he counselled and encouraged me, and saved me from my worst enemy- myself. Of all the people God's hand has graciously placed in my life, none have blessed me and changed me the way Marc has.

Before either of us knew how we felt about eachother, I had prayed a brave prayer: for Marc to find the best girl in the world, who would love him purely, bring him joy and devote herself to him, even if it meant that he would never love me in return. Little did I know what a tall order I had placed on myself! That time of utter despair helped me get one small step closer to answering that prayer. It was those tears of sorrow which now are the spring to a fountain of joy.

If it's not worth the risk, it's not worth anything

"Great deeds are usually wrought at great risks." - Horodotus

What a strange race we humans are. When things are unpredictable, we panick; when things are predictable, we languish. We cry for adventure, and then shrink back from it. It's strange isn't it? Taking a look back on history, and on who the world admires, one soon realizes that no one has ever been remembered for taking the back seat, keeping our distance, or not speaking up. Everyone who has made an impact on the world has done it by taking a risk. We'd be ashamed of a soldier who was too afraid to take a risk to save his comrades, but would we do the right thing in his shoes?

You'll notice two things about someone who doesn't take risks:

1. They have a stockpile of dreams they're too afraid to chase, and;
2. They're bored.

Reading this, you may conjure up images of me as a daredevil - I'm not. I'm even afraid to decide on what to order in a restaurant, for fear I won't like it. I'm about as far from a daredevil as it gets. But I've learned a thing or two about life that has made me look at risk in a new light.

We were made for risks. How else can we explain the popularity of theme parks and extreme sports? They are the world's way of retaliating against a safety-obsessed culture. I'm not saying safety is bad, or extreme sports and theme parks for that matter. But how many of us actually even go outside anymore? When was the last time you explored new territory or put your neck on the line? An increase in safety has also increased the desire for adventure and danger, and that's only natural, it's what life is all about.

A little over a year ago, I went out to a movie with a friend. A friend who happened to be a boy. And I was pretty crazy about him. It was a good movie and a great night. The more time I spent with him, the stronger my feelings for him became. Finally, on the way home, I couldn't take it anymore. I leaned over, and for the briefest second put my head on his shoulder! You're probably laughing at me, but remember, I'm not a risk taker, especially when it comes to love. I went as far as attempting to calculate if I could land on the curb if I jumped out the window, but never having taken physics, I didn't have much success. However terrified I was, that little hint was the final push for him to tell me how he felt. Through a relatively small risk, I got the biggest blessing of my life.

Risks can be scary things, but the best things in life are born of them. I'm not saying go skydiving or bungee jumping (not unless you want to), but don't let fear stop you from speaking your mind, chasing your dreams, going after that dream job or finally telling that certain someone how you feel. It may just be the best risk you ever took. I know mine was.

And so it begins....

"Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep." - Fran Lebowitz

Insomnia can teach you many things, or it can make you go insane. The latter often seems the most imminent, but I know that I have learned some things from many nights awake. I was telling this to some friends when one suggested that I make a journal to hold my many revelations and ideas. At first I laughed it off. Who would really want to hear my ramblings anyway? A year or two passed, and I'd actually finally found a medication that worked. I was actually sleeping through the night! Then suddenly, I remembered that journal idea, and it got me so excited that I couldn't sleep. So, for my own sanity, here it is.

If sleep is rest for the body, then some days I'd almost say insomnia is the waking of the soul. Many days I've felt as though I'm only half awake, or sleep walking, but it seems that on the nights when my body is half asleep, my true dreams and desires come alive in me. I've always wondered why this is, but now it seems to make sense in a crazy sort of way. I've always been a doubter and a skeptic; it's one of my least favourite qualities. But when my body is crying for sleep, I think the skeptic in me is a little too exhausted to dash my optimistic ambitions. At night, I dream endlessly of who I could become and what to do with my life, and in the morning these thoughts seem as childish as fairy tales. Nine times out of ten, my fiery ambition has already been snuffed by the time I wake up in the morning, its short life ended by my ever present "common sense". Any ideas I don't instantly dismiss with the rising of the sun are generally labelled as impossible, and their allure is slowly forgotten. I'd love to escape common sense for a moment, take a risk, and perhaps accomplish those dreams some day. I'll have to start small, so I'll start with this...