The time of year when Antonia goes into a mini life-crisis because, gasp, she must make a decision. Yes, I know, I over-worry, over-think, and over-stress about most things. I guess I just don’t want to miss out on anything that this life has to offer, don’t want to waste a minute. Which is ironic, because that is exactly what happens when I get caught up in this stew of indecision.

But why is it so difficult? To just…to just choose! To make a decision. To go for it. To stick with it.

Maybe it’s because when I do choose, I give my heart to it. There’s no halfway with me. It’s all or nothing. If it’s anything in between, I hate it, and how it leaves me reeling.

Maybe it’s because I’ve made some choices before that left me standing still, disoriented and confused.

Maybe it’s because I want to do everything. And a lifetime of choices couldn’t give me that.

Maybe it’s because I’m afraid. Afraid of failure. Of stepping out. Of trying something new. Of staying with the same.

Maybe it’s because I don’t trust enough. That I don’t trust my God to show the way, to open and close the doors (or windows) that I must go through. That I don’t trust myself, to try and to fail or  even possibly succeed.

I read this in the story of Jesus according to Luke. And it makes me rethink all my maybes…

“Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? And if worry can’t accomplish a little thing like that, what’s the use of worrying over bigger things?…And don’t be concerned about what to eat and what to drink. Don’t worry about such things. These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers all over the world, but your Father already knows your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and he will give you everything you need.” Luke 12.25-26, 29-31

And the next day you see another group of 14 year olds roaming the streets. And you fear it’s only a matter of time until trouble finds them.

Like when you’ve found a program that could really help a family.

And the next day you’re still waiting for them to return your call. And the next day. And the one after that…

Like when you’ve made that resolution to not go on a cookie binge again this week.

And the next day you find yourself wiping away crumbs from a mouth full of chocolately goodness.

Like when you’ve felt a connection with God. A nearness that has been lacking of late.

And the next day that same connection feels not quite so near.

Like when you’ve resolved to do better, to be better.

And the next day you find yourself choosing the same all-to familiar paths.

Like when you’ve decided you believe in yourself; you’re finally self-secure.

And the next day one word, one look has you stuck in a tailspin,  endless circles of self-doubt.

Like when you’ve finally felt like you have a plan.

And the next day the rug gets pulled from under you.

Sometimes you just need a win.

And when it comes, no matter how small, it’s cause to stop. Cause to celebrate. To cherish. And oh, how good it feels.

It almost makes you wonder…if it would have felt as tantalizingly satisfying if you had not had so many losses before it. It kinda makes you wonder about the intertwining of doubt and faith. Despair and hope. Struggle and overcoming.

The beautiful mystery of it all.

You may push me.

You may test.

But I’m not gonna give up.

I’m not giving up on you.

I’m not done with you yet.

I needed to do that a number of times today.

I should’ve probably done it a few more.

But I’m not going to beat myself up over the shoulda coulda’s. I’m going to celebrate that I did in fact take moments to breathe and pause and reflect. And tomorrow is going to be a new day and it’s going to start with a fresh, new, breath.

Yesterday I spent 3 hours supervising an ice slide. Watching the expressions of kids (and some adults!) as they go down a slide made of ice on a crazy carpet is priceless. It’s like pure joy and delight.

Even if there are hard things, sad things, going on, they’re all forgotten in that moment with the wind against your face, as you sail down a frozen channel of crisp, smooth ice.

dangerous ones

and now has paid

your life

The consequence of

risk undone stings

deep within

Hearts of

young and old

known and known yet not

Fair is not

the place we fall

the way we were

no more it is

Precious is the

life you lived

the lives that

weep behind you

So that’s where I’m at right now.

Oh, and in case you’re curious, here’s the verse:

“So why do you keep calling me ‘Lord, Lord!’ when you don’t do what I say? I will show you what it’s like when someone comes to me, listens to my teaching, and then follows it. It is like a person building a house who digs deep and lays the foundation on solid rock. When the floodwaters rise and break against that house, it stands firm because it is well built. But anyone who hears and doesn’t obey is like a person who builds a house without a foundation. When the floods sweep down against that house, it will collapse into a heap of ruins.” Luke 6:46-49

Solid rock. In a world that can seem to be filled with the chaos of shifting sand it’s really comforting to know that there are some things which cannot be moved.

To deal with 3 trucks full of firemen. And no fire…

To speak French. Even if it’s the REALLY rusty bits & pieces from grade 12.

To convince a youth that, in fact, stabbing his brother is not the best solution to the problem.

To listen to what she’s trying to say, underneath all of the theatrics.

To clean toilets. And sweep. And mop. And scrub. And sweat.

To climb up a ladder in search of an orphaned shoe, that may or may not have been thrown onto a roof.

To make a late night trip on icy roads for boxes of donated bananas.

To stay caffeinated, in order to have the energy to keep up

To be the bad guy, because someone needs to speak the truth.

To be proud of him, because no one else will be.

To believe in her, because she doesn’t know how extraordinary she is.

To keep a straight face, because no, it’s not funny….

To laugh, because the alternatives are tears or craziness.

To cry, because life just isn’t fair. And bad things happen. And young ones have to grow up before their time.

To keep searching, because there’s more to all this than meets the eye.

To hope, because this is not the end of the story.

While I was driving home I took in the oranges and yellows of tree leaves changing colour and the fields full of the final crops waiting to be harvested. While I was coming home for peace and quiet it’s actually a busy time of year for farmers. It is harvest season. The time to work long and late days combining in an attempt to get the last crops off the field before winter sneaks in. It’s a go full-speed ahead time of year knowing that rest  can be had once the crops are safely stored away from the threat of winter’s bite.

It reminded me of the passage where Jesus talks about the harvest and the workers and the lack thereof.

^“Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. ³⁸ Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” (Matt 9:35-37)

Lately that’s how its been feeling at work. We’ve been short-staffed for all of September and it’s been quite the journey. Part of me wants to buckle down and work in farmer-mode, it’s harvest time, time to push through full speed ahead and rest can happen later. Part of me wonders how sustainable this approach is. Especially given that this harvest season has no end in sight. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time of working non-profit is that the needs are endless. If it’s not one things, it’s another. That’s just in one tiny pocket of the city, let alone the entire city…and then think of the world. I was reading in the news last night about the famine in East Africa, particularly about this beautiful, beaten down country called Somalia, who I wonder if the world hasn’t forgotten about, except for when their pirates hijack our ships. (For the story, take a look here:  http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/25/opinion/sunday/on-top-of-famine-unspeakable-violence.html?_r=2&src=tp). Then I think about the countries I’ve traveled to, the people I met there, the stories I heard, and then I think of how for each person I met and story I heard, there are countless others I have not! It can be overwhelming. With all the brokenness and needs of our world, what are we to do?

It’s like when you have to start cleaning a messy room and you stand in the doorway and wonder, where on earth do I start?? (I may or may not be speaking from personal experience here…) There are different approaches, some step back and attend a training seminar: 10 Steps to Effective Room Sanitation. Others get stuck at the door and just sit and stare, overwhelmed by it all, and then when it becomes too much, they close the door and move on to something else, something smaller or they focus on a more “realistic” goal. Others close the door and never go back. Others rally the troops and call a workbee to help with the cleaning, their efforts are frantic with elbows in the face and everyone stepping on everyone’s toes, at the end of the day the room may look clean, however there’s no strategy for sustainability and the poor person living there finds socks in the t-shirt drawer and is left scratching his/her head. And then there are those who roll up their sleeves, pick a corner, and quietly start sorting and organizing. At the end of the day the work may or may not be finished, but what was done was done well. Tomorrow will be a new day and the task at hand will be waiting.

I wonder how Jesus would approach today’s world. I think of his life and ministry and I’m struck again and again by his never ending ability to see people. He didn’t see the masses and the crowds, he saw the people of them. He had COMPASSION. He took the time to touch lepers, to listen to women, to sit down with the outcasts and scoundrels of the day, he saw people for who they were. And then he did what he could. He didn’t do everything. I imagine he could’ve. But for some reason fixing everything wasn’t his agenda.

The things that seemed to be important to him were rather odd when you think about it: fishing, eating, attending weddings and parties, visiting synagogues (and being thrown out of them), visiting homes, telling stories which left people scratching their heads…Jesus took these simple interactions and made them into something profound. It was almost as though wherever he went, whatever he did, the moments became something sacred, something beautiful. And don’t get me wrong, he did do things. He healed, cast out demons, transformed lives, redeemed the irredeemable, forgave sins, he even conquered death! Yeah, he did some impressive things. But in my readings of the gospel I don’t see a frantic workaholic, I don’t see a Jesus fighting burnout, I don’t see a logframe of goals and objectives. I see a Jesus who knew the deep brokenness of our world but was not consumed by it. I see a Jesus who knew the urgency of the task but who clearly understood what the task was. A call to love. A call to serve. A call to see. A call to redeem. A call to renew.

I want to reap a harvest like that.