I've never had a problem giving. Of myself and my time, that is. I've always wanted to be the person to save the day by offering my help. I feel so full of joy when I see that look of relief and gratitude on people's faces and they express their thanks. I end up feeling like I matter. Like I'm worth something, like I have something to offer. And I've always thought that was the best way to serve. I mean, that was my gift: helping.

I don't even know how long I had thought that for, and I don't think I ever thought that it could be a bad thing, until I had no more to give.

The past year-and-a-bit has been hard. Nothing tragic or really 'bad' has happened, but it has still been such a challenge. I don't really know what I thought would happen after I got married; maybe I thought that since it was such a long process to get to that point that we could only go up from there? That's definitely not what happened. My goodness, I have been stretched.

I think it hit me when I was sitting there at my table, the table of young girls I was supposed to be leading, and I was struggling to find any meaningful words to say. I felt like I was a robot; programmed to read off a piece of paper, set to speak in response to seemingly simple questions. I was weary. Drained. Burnt out. Looking back, I was working a very demanding job, often doing overtime hours while trying to solve students' political crises, I don't think I could have had anything left.

I was starting to dread the thought of helping. In fact, I often had meltdowns at home, telling Ryan that I didn't want to do anything at all anymore. I wanted to sleep and I wanted someone to wait on me and I wanted to never work another day in my life. Meanwhile, he was working ten hour days and heading straight to class in Toronto. As if he should be the one waiting on me.

 ↞↞↞↠↠↠

I read a really powerful story the other day. It was about a pastor from North America who visited a Jewish school while he was traveling. He happened to sit in on a history class where the teacher was explaining first-century marriage customs. It was tradition, when a man wanted to propose to a woman, for the paternal father to pass a cup of wine to his son, who would then pass it to the woman before asking for her hand in marriage. It was a symbol of a promise to be made.

Does this sound familiar? This is what we, as Christ-followers, participate in. Communion. A covenant. 

The really powerful thing about this whole picture, to me, comes in the symbol of the cup. That God, our Father, is the One filling the cup - because we need to be filled if we are going to give anything at all. We are not expected to give on our own - we need to give the Christ in us.

Even though I hadn't separated myself from church, or turned away from God, or anything extreme in that way, I wasn't giving myself any opportunities to be filled. I was trying to pour out of an empty cup. Impossible. It was incredible to see the change in my mindset towards helping after Ryan and I surrounded ourselves with Jesus-centered encouragers.

Hebrews 3:13-14

Encourage one another daily, as long as it is called “Today,” so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. We have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original conviction firmly to the very end.

Communion has two definitions in the typical dictionary. 1 - the sharing of intimate thoughts and feelings, on a mental or spiritual level. 2 - the consecration and sharing of bread and wine in Christian worship. Two incredibly fitting and powerful meanings. Both of which are fundamental to having anything to give. This covenant is sacred and has a profound impact on our wellbeing. We need our cups to be filled. We need to be reminded of Christ's love, just as we need to be reminded that we are not alone on this walk through life.

It is life-changing to be filled. 

The extra-beautiful thing is that when we are filled with Christ, we will always have more to give - we will never be empty. Even more, when our hands are open, God will multiply what we have. When we give of our human selves, however, we will run out. We will run dry. We will eventually realize that we are lacking anything of meaning.

A year ago, I felt like I was stuck in the midst of a life decision gone wrong. Being involved in the world seemed like a burden. Church seemed like a chore. I never stopped loving Jesus, but I stopped letting Him fill me with Himself.

I'm learning, now, the importance of communion. Community with Christ and His people. The filling of cups with Himself.

And what a powerful, beautiful, thing it is.

The Year That I Became President

There were a few ways that this school year did not turn out to be what I thought. At all. In any way.

1. The office job that I thought would be a relaxing change of pace from chasing after children turned out to be exponentially more exhausting than any other job I have had. 

2. Despite taking only three classes and working partly from home, I had way less free time than ever before. 

3. Even though Ryan transferred to a school that is one hour closer to home, I saw him only two evenings (and no days) of the week. 

4. Moving to a bigger apartment did not end up being better than living in a bachelor-sized apartment with a 40lb dog 

5. I unexpectedly and unintentionally acquired the title of President. 

Although these would each be fun stories to attempt to explain, I'm just going to write about what I learned instead. Because in the past two weeks, I realized that I have grown a lot more than I thought I had, and I have retained a lot more than what was contained in the content of three credits.

                                                                                               ↞↞↞↠↠↠

There are different types of 'tired.' There's the type of tired that comes from being worn out by the natural activities of a day, but with this type of tired you have enough energy to talk to your family and have a shower and cuddle up on the couch to maybe watch a tv show or have a cup of tea. Maybe you won't feel like doing any studying or paper writing, but that's okay because you can save it for the next day.

Then there's a type of tired where you pull into your driveway and can barely get yourself to climb out of the car to walk to the front door. And when you get to the front door you drop your bag and slide down onto the rug and lean your head back, all the while trying to gather the energy to think about a plan for dinner. And then once you have that plan, you have to force yourself to stand up and walk to the fridge... and you just keep pushing your heavy legs and willing your eyes to stay open until you can finally fall into bed without showering because who has energy for that anyways?

The first type of tired comes from a day that you enjoyed. A day that was tiring but involved you doing something that you loved. So you can smile and think about the difference you are making in the world, and for the most part, you feel rested and at peace. The second type of tired comes from a day where you had to do things that seemed to make no impact and did not come naturally to you. A day that was stress-filled and involved conversations that don't bring you any closer to where you want to be. A day that was too busy and too full of things that you are not passionate about.

                                                                                                 ↞↞↞↠↠↠

Balance, and saying no, are essential to any healthy lifestyle. For the year and a half (almost) that we have been married, Ryan and I have struggled to find a work/school/social/marriage/life balance, and I'm sure that this will be an ongoing struggle for a while. Nevertheless, there is a lot that we learned this year - about balancing out responsibilities for each other, about each of us allowing the other to have our 'own' time, even if it means less time together. And the importance of both personal and together devotion time. We also learned that we can't keep giving of ourselves when we empty. There are times when we also need to be poured into.
                                                              

                                                                                                 ↞↞↞↠↠↠

Sometimes you have to make choices that won't please everyone, and you have to learn to be okay with that. The deeper into 'adulthood' that I get, the more I realize that it is not my job to make everyone happy. It's my job to do what is right. Integrity has been a huge theme in my life this year - being able to separate friendship from work, doing my absolute best to avoid destructive conversations, not making decisions based on other people's desires, differentiating right from wrong (in really tough situations) and ultimately choosing what is right.

I found in my teenage years that although I wanted to be independent of my parents, I really did rely on them when in came down to 'ethical dilemmas' and tough choices. They were always just a quick text or call away, and willingly provided their insight without giving me an unhealthy amount of guidance. However, there were times this year when it became suddenly clear that there's not always 'quick and thoughtful insight' around the corner. It's not always possible for someone older and wiser to provide the guidance you need. Sometimes it's just up to you alone to make your own choice.

                                                                                                    ↞↞↞↠↠↠

And that brings me to my last lesson.

In everything, from one of Ryan's classes in school (that's lessons were regularly brought home to me;) ), to a series on doctrine that we read through in small group at church, to sermons that were taught, conversations that were had, and my personal devotion reading - God has been ingraining in me an important understanding of the Holy Spirit. And that's not a coincidence. In a year saturated with battles of peace, integrity, strength, and patience, He was teaching me about the inner Peace, Strength, Integrity and Patience that's inside me - that I can claim as my own.


                                                                                                   ↞↞↞↠↠↠

It's clear that the position(and then positions) I held this year will not be what I continue to do for the rest of my life. Although I don't think I'm at all incapable, I didn't feel at peace and energized and joyful in these roles.

God is not a God of confusion...

I was talking to a friend the other day about determining what is from God and what is not from God. Although the situations themselves may not have been from God, the lessons I learned from this year were absolutely from Him. The things he taught me could not have been learned anywhere else.

I know that I was able to use many of my strengths in the job I had this year, but I also know that God has plans for me to use my gifts in different and more fitting ways.

The place Ryan and I are living has been an environment that we needed to bring us closer, and ultimately it has provided all that we needed to get through this year. We have been reminded that we are blessed beyond measure, and undeserving of all that we have been given. Despite the struggles, we are thankful and will use our place in life right now for His glory.

We now know that it takes an emptying of all energy and strength so that we can be refilled with love, wisdom, and grace that is much deeper and stronger than before.

One Year Closer

One year ago I stood in front of my closest friends and family, beside a man who had become my best friend - who I was absolutely in love with and pretty crazy about. I was so excited to start our life together. I was excited to start and end each day beside him. To dream up plans and reach goals with him. To have all of our first moments. I was excited to make a home together and to go on trips with no curfew restraining us. I was excited to have freedom and to not have to say goodnight.

If there was one thing I could say about this past year, it would be that it was not what I expected. It didn't become the perfect year I was excited to experience.

It was a year of difficult decisions and frustrating forgiveness. A year of hard-working days and evening exhaustion. A year of messy kitchens and dirty laundry, late night paper writing and early morning shifts at work. A year of arguments we never thought we would have. A year of laughter and tears, ups and downs, tight budgets and unexpected blessings. A year of learning things about myself that I didn't want to admit. Like that I am shamefully stubborn and opinionated. I lack patience and grace, and I am a more selfish person than I ever thought before.

It was a year of learning things about the man I thought I knew. Like how he is also so much stronger, more passionate, more loving and kind and insurmountably patient than the man I thought I was marrying. He is more gracious and forgiving and hard-working and selfless than I imagined he could be. I am incredibly undeserving of a love so sweet. But still, he is still as equally imperfect as I am.

We are two incredibly imperfect people who are loved by the only Perfect God.

In my devotions this morning I was reading about how the Israelites finally made it to the Red Sea and then let themselves fall into a crisis state, thinking they would never be able to make it across the sea and wondering why God led them so far for nothing. God's response is really what got me.

Go forward. Move on.

One of my biggest struggles is with moving on. I especially get so stuck on small situations and insignificant problems that I forget how meaningless they are in the grand scheme of things. And even more than that, getting "stuck" doesn't help anything. Of course the Red Sea was not something small and insignificant, but I mean, if God can lead us through things so big, then of course we can get through things so small.

There was something else I realized too.

Making it to a year of marriage is not what matters most. What matters most is that we're still going. It's that we wake up every morning and make the choice to keep loving, no matter how we're feeling. To give when we have nothing left to offer. To love when our sinful nature tells us not to. To serve when we would rather be selfish. To get up when we would rather stay in bed. To move forward. 

We will never get it perfect. But what matters is that we're one year closer to being who we are meant to be - as a husband and wife, as a man and a woman, as servants of Him.

Now that we can say we have been married for a year, we can also say we love each other one year more. We understand our imperfections one year more. We have been stretched and humbled one year more.

And with every step forward, we are one more step closer to forever.