Moving!

So blogspot has come to an end for me. I have discovered tumblr which is infinitely more supreme and so I flee to a blogger that can satisfy all my design fantasies. I hope you like it too!

http://murderbird.tumblr.com/

Pictures! (Start from the bottom and work your way up..)

Week 4 - Mere Christianity and the border *dun dun dun!

I am continuously delighted with how every week there is more and more amazing work going on with God in my life. And on top of which, the classes we're doing never cease to stretch my mind and call up things I had never even thought about.

This week was Mere Christianity with Brenda Lewis. She's a co-director and speaker here at Axiom as well as one of the most charismatic and lovely individuals I've ever met. She went on to interpret Justice and Mercy and describe what Christianity really means. What I discovered was eye opening but at the same time rang within me something I knew all along, if that at all makes sense.
We listened to a recording of Paris Reidhead called "Ten Shekels and a Shirt." For those of you who don't know him, Paris was born in 1919 in a Minnesota farming community. In is late teens he committed himself to a life of Christ and by the 40's he was a preacher, missionary and advocate of economic development in impoverished nations. He took a position as pastor at New York City's Gospel Tabernacle in 1956 and while in New York, he drew on informational resources at the United Nations to pioneer a program through which government and private funds were used for economic development in the Third World. His efforts to implement local programs on this model took him to mission fields in Africa, Asia and South America. A spiritual crisis led him to describe what is probably the best known recorded teaching "Ten Shekels and a Shirt" in the 1960's. He was convicted that much of evangelicalism had adopted utilitarian ("if it works, it's true") and humanistic ("the end of being is the happiness of man") philosophies contradictory to Biblical teaching. The end of all being, he came to believe, was not the happiness of man, but the glorification of God. That we make Him happy through relationship and trust in his son and that's all there needs to be.
It was an amazing sermon and if any one's interested in reading it, just click on the link: http://www.parisreidheadbibleteachingministries.org/tenshekels.shtml

After hearing all this it just made so much sense. We don't want to not sin because it's wrong, we don't want to sin because it makes God unhappy and we would never want that. We love Him so much, that not sinning is simply something we're happy to commit to. Because when He is happy, we're happy. For the glory of God.
She also went in to describe how all the other religions of the world are all working towards God. Constantly working towards getting closer to God whereas Christianity is the only religion where God gave us a human being to relate to and bring us to God himself. Jesus. And Satan tries to make us believe that we still need to work, when we don't.
All God wants from us is Relationship. He wants us in our brokenness, in our failing humanity because he loves us just the way we are. To be in a loving relationship with his son is the highest form of gratitude and justice in which his mercy will be carried out. And so we give justice to God, he gives us mercy and grace with which we give unto each other. Interesting cycle, eh?

This Saturday was the dreaded border trip. Because I only have my weekends off and only till the 30th of the month we decided to take off on Saturday. We consulted with a friend as what the best route would be concerning what to say and bring and at 7am we were driving North. By 3:30 we were in downtown Buffalo when we saw a sign "Bridge to Canada." That must be it, we thought and drove right up to the Canadian crossing which was not at all where we wanted to go. We got up to the gates and tried explaining our situation to the officer, that we really needed to get to the American side and extend my passport. He had us park the car and wait while 5 officers searched the vehicle. Apparently missionaries need just need that many officers. But the funny thing is they didn't even seem concerned with me. Dan, one of the staff members who came with us (because we thought 3 people was better then 2 and everyone else wasn't able to come) is pretty tattoo'd which was like having a target on your forehead. He was asked if they were gang related, how he was able to support himself while doing volunteer work, who's car we had and why. And Rebecca, who didn't have her passport with her (and why not, we weren't going to Canada) was criticized and questioned as well. Finally they gave us this paper stating that we had not gone into Canada (more for Rebecca's purpose) and we would need to show this to the American border (which was right next door but on the other side of the highway *sigh).
Well once there they saw this paper as a denial into the Canada and took us into a huge room with tuns of people to talk to an officer. We waited over an hour and a half to get called and once we came up they were more concerned with Rebecca's nationality then why I was there in the first place. Finally the officer tells me that I need to actually go over to Canada and come back to be processed. I ask if there's a time limit and she says no, I can loop right around but I must be back in my own country to be considered. It was that or try filing paper work with immigration which could take god knows how long. So we ran back into town to have a coffee and decide what to do. We figured it was probably the best thing to leave Rebecca and Dan in town and go myself as there was no way Rebecca was getting over the border anyway and Dan has had way more issues actually getting back into his own country then getting out.
So I drove back over to the Canadian border and explained my story. No problems, got right through. *Whew! Easy-peezy. Once in Canada I drive up on the highway to turn around except it goes on. Forever. I think I was in Canada for about 20 minutes before I decided to take an exit and get back on the highway to the US. The whole time I'm in the car praying for soft hearts, Rebecca and Dan are praying, the folks at YWAM are praying, every one of my Christian friends back home are praying. I get up to the American border and they get me to park the car and go back into the original building I'd waited in for an hour and a half previously except this time it was nearly empty. Thank goodness! They call my name and at first they started giving me the third degree;
"Where are you living in the US?"
"In New Haven."
"Do you have a green card?"
"No..."
"Well you can't legally live in the US without one."
It kept like this until they asked me when the last time I was in the states and I tell them I've never been to America. "WHAT!?" they say and I start joking around. Soft hearts, soft hearts, soft hearts I'm chanting like a mantra in my head. Well, these guys turned out to be super nice. Finally he goes off to talk to his supervisor and comes back with, "We're going to hook you up." I exhaled the longest breathe ever. So he's typing away when he sees that I'm going to India. I tell him all about the orphanage we're working in and then he says he's going to type in more information so the border doesn't give me trouble coming back into America in February. Miracle?
I walked out of their office on cloud 9. I drove back into downtown Buffalo and we saw a movie in town in this very cute theatre and were back on the road by 9pm.
By five in the morning I was in my bed and legally sleeping in America.

Week 3 - Father Heart of God and NYC

To say this week has been transforming would be an understatement. This week has been nothing short of life changing starting from day one.
The day after I got home from the hospital I awoke to Brenda on my bed. She shook me gently, "Amy, Amy honey do you want to come to class today?"
"What time is it...?" I manage to mumble still asleep.
"9:30am." She replies. My eyes flicker open.
"What time does class start?" I asked. "9:00." She tells me she really thinks I should be there today, that it's important and if I can manage, I really should go. I get out of bed, throw on a sweater and tights, inhale some cereal and coffee and she drives me down to St. Paul's Episcopal where we're having our classes for the next 3 months. What do I walk into? Father Heart of God week. For those in the "know" Father Heart of God week is INTENSE. It's the time where you dig up and release old hurts, giving them to Christ so you can move forward in your journey with him as a group. It humbles you, and it exhausts you too. After listening to Jeff Pratt speak for 5 minutes, I was already in tears. No holds barred, he launched right in and I was a dripping pool 3 hours later.
The next day was even worse. This was the practical day. We were given a series of questions that you were to pray over and answer according to what you thought God was telling you. After we all sat in a circle and shared what we felt God wanted us to move forward from. Now, this was tough. Out of 6 students it took over 3 hours to get through all of us. By the end of the class (which started at 9am and ended at 3 without lunch) we were all so emotionally drained it was hard to keep your eyes open. We shuffled back to the house, inhaled our lunch and passed out. But one thing was sure, we were all officially a group, joined together in our brokenness and love for God.

On Friday one of my fellow students Brandon and I decided to go on a spontaneous trip to NYC for the weekend and after the last couple days it was evident a break was needed. A friend of his (Kirt) is a professional fashion photographer, lives in upper Manhattan and absolutely loves to give tours of his city. Perfect, we'd be up in a couple hours! We hopped on the train and got into the city shortly after 6:30pm. The doors out to NYC from Grand Central led us into a fervent sight. Skyscrapers, taxis, flashing billboards, honking and the people. It was everything I had envisioned and more. We started walking towards Times Square. The streets were packed with people, news stands, random tables stocked with knock offs, folks trying to get you into their bike carriages, people selling comedy tickets, homeless covered in cardboard, all amidst this flashing city of steel and glass and lights. Times Square itself had so many people it felt like the entire population of Winnipeg was there. We made our way down to Central Park and walked through Strawberry fields before heading down to the Subway. Now, I'm an easily amused person. You don't need to take me to the Ritz, just sit me on a New York subway and I'm tickled pink. It was awesome. We got down to Kurt's and a plethora of gay men helped me choose the right outfit for the evening; we were going to a private celeb photographer's party. An hour later (and I was one of the first one's ready...) we were back on the subway and then walking down to a beautiful hotel. Which floor? The penthouse of course. "Look unimpressed, look unimpressed, look unimpressed..." I chanted like a mantra in my head. It's harder then it sounds. Once upstairs we sat at the hosts table in a room lined with windows with the most breathtaking view of the city. Directors, actors, photographers, they were all there. It was all surreal. After a while we left and hung out at a pub down the street. It was really nice to breathe, laugh and hang out with some really great folks. New Yorkers. And how hospitable.

The following day we grabbed coffee and walked for hours in Central Park. You would need an entire day to walk the whole thing, but we did some damage. After we came out and walked all through 5th avenue and by the time it was getting dark, my feet were about to fall off. That night we hopped on a train home and I slept like a baby. We saw so much and yet so little. There were so many places I wanted to go that I didn't get the chance to; ground zero, the Met, the Brooklyn bridge. You truly need a couple weeks to see everything, and even then that's a far cry.

Sunday was a day to relax. I spent most of it pouring over all the photos I took of the city. We ate a splendid meal of chicken spaghetti (you're going to laugh but I've never had chicken in spaghetti before!) and then headed over to Ricci's house for smores by a fire. (Ricci is one of the staff who has 3 beautiful children and an even more beautiful home where some of the students live.) At 9 we made our way down to Christ Church to witness one of the most amazing services I've ever seen. It's called Compline and it's only twenty minutes of prayer sung to plainsong and early polyphony. To clarify, Compline is derived from Latin meaning the completion of the day. This word was first used in this sense by Saint Benedict. And so the whole service is sung in a candle lit church so silent it's loud. In that time, there was no doubt in my mind of Christ, in fact I felt him there beside me, sitting quietly with his head down and eyes closed, enjoying the voices of the people who love him.

Today is the start of a new week of classes called Mere Christianity taught by Brenda Lewis. But that is for the next post!

Week 2-In an American hospital

Alas, I don't think anyone needs to see pictures from the last 5 days of this excitement.

From what you read of my last entry, I wasn't feeling too well. I got a sore throat, and did what I always do when I get sick; bought herbals. I started taking oil of oregano and when the second day came and I had a pretty bad cold, I added garlic pills. Now, most of the time with sticking to this regiment very religiously, all symptoms cease and I'm better within at least 3 days tops. The following day the infection was in my chest and I was waking up 3 or 4 times in the night not able to breathe without the aid of my inhalers. After 3 days of ineffective herbals and puffers, I decided to check into a clinc.

Right.

My roommate called around to find out where I could go and after one rude secretary after another (in fact one even hung up on her upon hearing my Canadian decent) she was referred to St. Raphael, a catholic hospital in West Haven. She drove me down immediately.

Thankfully, American hospitals take asthma as seriously as Canadian ones. I was rushed in, put in a bed in the ER and given a mask instantly. What really bothered me was it didn't work.

I've had asthma since I was 18 months old. I've been admitted at least over 30 times in my life, spanning over a week for the most part. I usually know how these things work. But since I was 19, and have gone a more holistic route, I have been able to better manage my symptoms then ever before. Usually, once a year or so things get the better of me, every time stemming from a bad chest infection and I have to go to emerg and get a couple masks, a prescription for Prednisone and I'm home again. Almost 7 years now this has been the routine. But this time, the masks weren't working.

That night they admitted me onto the ward. The next morning I was feeling better, until I relapsed. And then relapsed 4 more times. Every morning I'd feel better, I could breathe, my wheezing was a lot more controlled, and then an hour later I was right back to the beginning. Tests followed; chest x-rays, nasal swabs, blood work, sputum tests, EKG's, a 24 hour urine test (where they actually collect all your pee for a full 24hours, and if you miss even the smallest amount, you have to start right over again). I had 3 IV's because they just kept clotting. Neither the doctors nor myself could determine why I was relapsing. Every morning the doctors set up to send me home. The day before last they even had me sign the discharge sheets. And then 15 minutes later I needed another mask and my chest sounded like a train wreck. I was not leaving.

So, this morning seemed promising. I was sounding better, but they were still unsure because every time I went for a walk my heart rate spiked to 150. (For those of you who don't know, a normal heart rate for an adult is anywhere from 60-100). So there should be no reason why mine was at 130 before I got to my doorway. The doctors decided to send me home with a special machine that would allow me to receive my masks without being in the hospital. The only problem was, my insurance company would not pay for it. It was either that, or I was possibly staying longer. Then a woman appeared at my bed, with the machine in hand and said that the hospital had donated the machine to me, free of charge. Thank goodness! It looked like I was actually going home!

I called as many friends as my phone card would allow. Got dressed and waited for my roommate to pick me up. And then a woman from social services came to see me. I may very well have a bill in the mail from the hospital, she said. The insurance company that I had gone with before leaving Winnipeg, was denying that I had informed them I was asthmatic and was refusing to pay the charges incurred. They are claiming that it is a pre-existing condition. The thing is, I did tell them when I bought the package. The woman very plainly asked me if I had any illnesses and I told her that yes, I had asthma, had it all my life. She sold me the basic insurance regardless, stating that my condition was fine, and wouldn't be a problem with the package I bought because it wasn't something terminal like cancer, HIV or Alzheimer's.

By the time I got home, it was too late to call them. Regardless, I don't think I've had the energy to deal with this issue quite yet. A few folks at the hospital were nice enough to give me some ideas of what I could do. If I haven't signed anything then it's my word against theirs and I might have a fighting chance against this. In any case, I have to deal with getting well, and working out the whole border thing. Yes, I still have that to sort out. The hospital said that the bill won't come for another month so I have some time. As well, they are a catholic establishment and are very fair in dealing with financial matters. I have no reason not to believe her. I just didn't anticipate paying off an American hospital bill for the next 40 years of my life.

So for now, I'm going to take the next week to rest and get better. If my asthma does not improve, I may be forced to come home and do the DTS next year because God knows, I don't want to be in any more debt then I may be. But there's something about this that doesn't rest well with me. I feel like the enemy has got a serious hand in this. I feel like giving up now, after all this hard work would only please him more. And for that, I have to fight. I know that God wants me here, I know this is something I need to do and I'm not going to quit. I'm going to deal with it one thing at a time.

But man, this journey sure hasn't been easy, and the DTS has just started.

Week 1

I meant to take waaaaayy more pictures then I did this week, but I haven't been feeling too well as of late. Not sure if it's allergies or my body getting sick after all the chaos before I left. Usually when I'm GO GO GO, right after I get sick for a few days. Needless to say, I'm taking garlic and oil of oregano pills like candy.

Lots of things to report. The weather here is a nice 28 degrees at all times. It's gorgeous and from what folks are saying, it's going to be a nice long autumn this year. What a change from home, where fall lasts what, 4 weeks before there's snow on the ground? New Haven doesn't get snow till late November, middle of December. And even then it stays around -10. And they said it would be cold!

I went to an Episcopal church last Sunday. It was interesting, but much too formal for my tastes. There was singing throughout the service, but it was all traditional songs and the entire gospel was sung as well. The woman singing had her eyes closed and related the whole passage without reference. When you were getting up for communion, you had to kneel at the end of the chairs (because there were no pew's only old wooden chairs) and then they handed you a wafer and the wine. Then you left through a chapel on the right side where you bowed to the front and went back to your seat. The creed had lots of bowing and kneeling involved. It was way too traditional for my tastes. But then when looking in the booklet they hand you, there was a Gay and Lesbian Fellowship you could join! They were very open about their beliefs about accepting all people. I thought that was neat.

I went to a huge cook off after wards. From what I had gathered, I envisioned a typical Winnipeg BBQ. You know, someones back yard with a cooler of beer and a burnt hot dog to gnaw on. Yeah right. This was a scene from "Message in a Bottle". It was at this beach house that was rented on the ocean. Sail boats, light houses, rolling waves, cut rock and ocean. I was seriously looking for Keven because I thought I'd been thrown into a Hollywood movie. And of course I forgot my camera. There were over 70 people there, lots of kids and Batchi Ball. Yes, I played Batchi Ball. We were out there for most of the day, I was starting to feel like an American. *gasp!

Monday was Labour Day and I spent it enthralled in Ikea. Now, I know there's Ikea's in Canada, but I've never been to one and man, this thing was over whelming. Firstly, it was a total maze. And oh my God, the show rooms! I wanted to buy everything. We got to the counter, paid for our purchases (a new shower curtain for the house because the old one was so covered in mold that once in there you were scared of being sucked into an abyss...) and then bought .50 cent hot dogs. Just. Because. We. Could. I was both amazed and appalled at this store. Amazed because, well it was REALLY pretty and appalled because, man, that was A LOT of stuff. American consumerism at it's best. Eat your heart out.

Today has been a lazy day. The DTS starts officially on Friday with a big dinner. There's 6 students this year; 2 boys, 2 girls and a couple. Some nice surprises; we will be going to Nova Scotia to work on an apple orchard for a week in October. So I'll be in Canada for Canadian Thanksgiving! Yay turkey! TWICE! When we leave for India we'll be stopping in London for the connection. We'll be there for an entire day so we'll have some time to look around which is really neat. And the last week that we're in India is going to be spent traveling around and I'm definitely lobbying for Agra to see the Taj Mahal!

I've also decided to crochet hats for the babies in the orphanage. You know when you're born you get a pink hat if you're a girl and a blue one for a boy? Well I don't suppose these children get anything like that. I'll make them out of lighter fabric as it is India. I can't wait to get out there.

These one dollar bills are starting to get to me.

Settled, maybe.

What an event. I have to say, the bus ride to Connecticut was more to be desired. Firstly, once arrived in Kenora our air conditioning failed and a rescue bus was sent. An hour and a half behind schedule, we pulled out of Kenora on a new bus. This was transfer number one. We then transferred again in Thunder Bay and yet again in Toronto. On the second day we drove into the Buffalo boarder crossing.

Let me say, I have never been treated so poorly in my life by a complete stranger. I filed into a room under construction. Along one side were cubicles of about 5 computers with officers behind them, and to the left a long metal table with another 2 officers with gloves, searching baggage. I get up to the counter and hand over my ID; passport, drivers license, yada yada. What's your business in the states? Volunteering with a Missionary organization. The guy looked at me oddly. Asked what the organization was called. YWAM. I handed over the letter they sent me to show boarder patrol. Question after question followed;
"So how are you supporting yourself while in the country?"
"With my own money and money donated to me."
"Who donated to you?"
"Friends."
"What kind of religion is this?"
"Christian."
"What will you be doing?"
"Working in soup kitchens, helping the poor."
"So you'll be working?"
"No, I'm not getting paid, I'm volunteering."
"That doesn't matter, you're still working. Who's paying your room and board?"
"I am."
"Where's your bank statements confirming this?"
"I didn't bring any, I called boarder patrol 3 weeks ago and they said to bring this letter."
"This looks like you printed it off your computer."
It followed like this for 45 minutes. I had to take my luggage off the bus. They went through everything; my underwear, my journal, my sketchbooks.
"So you're an artist."
"Yes."
"Do you make money at this?"
"Sometimes..."
"How do we know you're not going to the states to work, to sell your art?" I thought of saying, "Mister, if I actually made a living off it in Canada, that might be something to consider!"
Then he flat out told me I didn't qualify and was sending me back to Canada. I pleaded with him, he grabbed his Supervisor. Again, questions followed. I gave him the number for the base, no one picked up. He looked at the web site, asked if it was a cult. Saw that the course is called a DTS (Discipleship Training School). "So it's a school..where's your visa?"
"It's not that kind of school, it's not credited, I'm not receiving a degree."
"Doesn't matter, you need a visa, how are you paying for this?"
"With my own money!"
"What's your parent's number, can we call them and ask, do they know what you're doing?"
"I wouldn't suggest it, we're not seeing eye to eye right now."
"What happens if you get sick?"
"I bought travel insurance!" After searching through every nook and cranny, reading my journals and goodbye cards, scanning through my bible, checking for drugs in my tampon box, he looked at me and said; "You're extremely high risk, you know."
Needless to say, I started crying. After 45 minutes they finally settled on letting me over the boarder-for a month. I am to return in person with bank statements, brochures, detailed outlines of my day to day activities or a warrant will be put out for my arrest and I will be deported. Deported!
Freaked out and red in the face, I got back on the bus and chained smoked 3 cigarettes at the Buffalo bus station. I emailed the YWAM base in Connecticut to give them a heads up and talked to a friend on FB who helped calm me down.

The next morning, after sleeping hardly at all (the seat next to me was occupied by a small child who either curled up in my lap and I was afraid to move, or full out flopped all over me the whole night and then I transferred buses yet again in NYC) I got picked up from one of the Axiom staff. They brought me to a gorgeous house in what's considered the "gheto" side of town. It's nothing short of beautiful and reminds me a lot of Wolseley. The house itself is huge; cherry wood floors, original trim, antique furniture, a huge back yard with a fire pit and a great bunch of folks to greet me. All were shocked at my treatment at the boarder and assured me they would figure something out. At the very least, there was a road trip to be had.

I went to an amazing deli 3 minutes from the house for lunch. Then went volunteering at a soup kitchen for a while in the afternoon. Joined a couple folks for my first Target experience (it's almost exactly like Walmart except red.) Overall, great first day here, hopefully I can stay!