I have realized that I can’t live mediocrely. When I am not living extraordinarily it eats away at me because I know I can and should do better. And when I don’t live extraordinarily I lose sight of why I was placed on this earth in the first place.
I’m not saying I have to go cliff jumping or go undercover as a spy in Russia every day in order to have an extraordinary life. You don’t have to know me very long before you realize I am not that hard to please. When I say I want to live every day extraordinarily I mean I want to have something to look forward to every day, I want a goal I am working for, I want to have one incredibly uplifting conversation, I want to have something make me laugh until it hurts, I want to go to bed every night in complete satisfaction that God is good all the time and excited to wake up and live the next day. Unfortunately, right now, I am living mediocrely, and I spend my days searching and hoping for anything to grab onto to bring me back up.
This last weekend I went surfing. It was awesome. I got on my knees twice, I spent 50% of the day fighting against waves to get back to my friends, 10% of the day riding in on waves on my stomach, and 40% of the day leaning on the board to rest while submitting to the waves and drowning a little bit. The first half of the day, I screamed every time a wave came over me… but not like a legitimate scream, it sounded like R2D2’s “weeee” yell when the robots come to kill him and they lift him up and he yells and then spills oil all over the floor. But I was having a blast. Cindy kept laughing at me because she said she would look over and see this brown hair getting pummeled by waves and then she would hear this giggling. I could not stop laughing, I was having the time of my life. It was 
so exhausting, so foggy, so cold, and so beautiful. On top of this incredible day of surfing, we spend the weekend camping. I love camping. I never really camped as a kid, but started actually camping when I was probably around 19. I love camping so much, that my family and I will probably spend our entire summers camping. And my kids will grow up loving the smell of bonfire, the taste of water from a fountain, the sight of the sun through the trees, the sound of birds humming along with generators, the feel of a cold nose in the morning with bundled legs in a sleeping bag, and the emotional security of a porter potty. And it will be magical.
So, I’m not certain if I was on a traveling and adventure high this weekend and now I am spiraling downwards, or if I have been in this rut for a while now and this weekend got a little bit of freedom which makes coming back that much harder. But I can tell I am living mediocrely here and it is killing me slowly. I keep questioning my point in Abbotsford.
I found out how to change my permit to be allowed to work with kids, I have to undergo a medical examination and reapply. Super easy but it’ll take 3-5 months to process. I am going through the process because I don’t think I could handle 3 years without working with children or teens in some capacity, but I keep finding these road blocks. I can only have the examination from a particular list of doctors. The closest one is in Surrey. (That’s like an hour away….) So, I make an appointment for this morning at 9, I have to bring a form filled out and 3 passport photos. I forgot to get the passport photo, so I woke up at 6:30 this morning to go get them done and head over for the appointment. I went to Shoppers drug mart where the cashier ignored me for a solid 3 minutes and then immediately helped some other lady, then a sales associate came to help me and I was informed they don’t open their photo department until 12:30 which I just think is thee most obnoxious time to open something. Then I went to Walmart and they can’t do passport photos until 10am. So, I had to call and cancel my appointment.
Under the disguising frustration with Abbotsford (a town that closes everything at 9pm and doesn’t open back up until noon) and wanting to punch whoever created this town right in the idea-ovary, is this subtle layer of complete disappointment. And this pain that maybe I misunderstood God and wasn’t supposed to stay here. And if I do stay here, I am not supposed to work with kids while I do so. And consequently, not be doing the thing that I love and spending the next three years feeling incomplete and underused. But then my mind knows I need to be patient, and I keep reminding myself that hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a promise fulfilled is the tree of life. And as I wait, God is raising my expectations and he is going to do something incredible… So long as I can actually handle the waiting long enough for him to complete his plan.
Missio Dei Latte 