Something about fall

My last "here's what I've been up to because I've been pretty awful about updating anyone about my life" post ended on a blindly optimistic note. I had no idea what was coming next, but I was looking forward to it.

Now that the two months that were in the future at that time are now in the past, it strikes me how ridiculous it is that anyone would ever panic about the future. The days roll on at a rate of exactly sixty minutes per hour, and we do things, simply because we can't do nothing. I mean, you can do nothing, you can sit and do nothing, but even that is doing something. Time stops for no one.

At some point after I had written that post, I decided to go back to camp. To be honest, I had decided to spend the fall season at camp as soon as it was suggested to me. But for me, there's the point at which I've inwardly agreed to do something, and then there's the point at which I broadcast it. So when I wrote that post I just hadn't reached the broadcasting part yet.

Spending September and October at camp was great! I was a member of a staff of thirteen very different individuals. When it comes to staff teams, I've seen quite a few. I don't know that I've ever worked with so many completely different people at once, but somehow we made it work. By the end of it, though, I had spent one too many days in the dish pit and about fifteen too many days at the zipline, and I was worn out.

About halfway through October, I had the chance to briefly visit Lethbridge, the city I recently left as our family moved to Kelowna. I loved visiting friends there, seeing the university, and, above all, attending my church there.

That was the point at which I'd inwardly agreed to move back to Lethbridge.

I didn't broadcast it until I signed a rental contract for a little room in the upstairs part of a house shared with two other girls I very vaguely know. It all fell together easily. I felt sure-footed as God guided my steps, dropping things into my lap. A camp friend said, no, things are not falling into your lap, Jesus is whipping them at you!

My new house is disguised as a forest.

I am slowly adjusting to being "moved out" for the first time. I'm navigating the bus system, comparing prices, and even cooking. Yes, it was soup from a can, but the point is that I made it.

Next, I will be looking for a job. I'm not sure yet what it will be, but whether it comes as a fastball-to-the-face or a feather-to-the-sleeve, I'll take it.

[Not] In Danger

Today we had a bit of a scare in Lethbridge. All day we experienced extremely high winds (gusting up to 100 km/h) which snapped trees in half, tore shingles from roofs, smashed car windows, and toppled power lines. To add insult to injury (I guess in context, more like injury to insult), a wildfire developed just west of the city. The high winds propelled the fire to spread extensively, endangering homes outside of the city. Areas were evacuated, roads closed, and the entire Westside of Lethbridge became virtually isolated from the rest of the city. About five hours later, the city reported that the fire had been contained, the evacuation alerts were off, and most evacuees could return home.

Fire is always a possibility, but I have never been in a situation before when it seemed so imminent. My neighborhood was not placed on evacuation alert and it was not one of the endangered areas, but worrying about the possible danger that could result, if conditions were right, made me sick to my stomach. I paced, checking the city's website, an emergency alert website, and various Twitter feeds, about every five minutes. I even tuned the radio to a country station so I could stay on top of the updates! There was no shortage of silent desperate prayers sent up either.

Please, Lord, let us keep our homes. I knew that my life was not in danger. The evacuation notice would be given with plenty of time to leave safely. It was my belongings that I was most worried about. I've often thought about what I would bring if I had to leave my home. The computers, of course, since they hold all of our photos and music. My huge collection of keepsakes. My horn. The photo albums, home movies. A few changes of clothes, a blanket, my purse. I'd raid the bathroom. If there was enough time, a few favorites from my wardrobe. If I ever had to evacuate, I'm sure it would take a number of trips to the car to get everything ready to go.

Tonight, I have learned (or rather, become much more aware of) these two things: first, I am far more attached to my possessions than I had previously thought; and two, I do not handle frightening situations even remotely well.

I generally consider myself to be one of the more level-headed members of society. This is fairly true: I stay calm while others panic about deadlines, I have never had an obsessive celebrity crush, I can approach problems with a realistic view. Over the years I've come to realize that as soon as I find myself in a situation which I perceive to be dangerous, I completely lose my head. I feel sick, I imagine all possible scenarios, I pace, I search desperately for more information.

This happens rarely. As a child, it was brought on by everything from an argument between my parents to the dark storms which I convinced myself would bring tornadoes. Recently, it was brought on by the prospect of a red-eye Greyhound trip to Vancouver, events at camp during one week this summer, and tonight's wildfire. By God's grace, none of these things ever developed into the situations I, in fear, had predicted.

There isn't much purpose in this post, except to put on paper the things I find myself feeling in this moment. Take from it what you will.

Life returns to normal; our God is a good God.