Grey

The sky keeps spitting white stuff today.  Nothing sticking to the ground like yesterday, but cold and damp white stuff.

It's not helping that my neck and back tightened up painfully overnight for some reason, and left me with a headache to fight off too.

I have a government employment insurance session to attend this afternoon.  One that may or may not be fully necessary, but is somehow mandatory. 

It's one of those things that highlights, somehow, this season of deconstruction.  Months after I lost my job, and am finally within reach of a new position, my government benefits kicked in a few weeks ago, and last week I got a letter informing me that I needed to attend this session.  And, now, after a crazy summer of studying, after a wild and ongoing emotional ride, going to a session like this is almost like having the deconstruction of my life waved in front of me like some sort of macabre flag.  "Look, your life looks like nothing you ever expected!"

I feel grey today.  Not particularly down, not black and blue.

Just grey.

Blah.

Like the skies outside.

Like the boredom of a government information session.

So, I'll take the train, and read a book, and maybe some scripture, and I'll look for color amidst the grey.  I'll make the effort to focus on the the things that remind me of joy and life.  And I might just come home from the session and spend the evening taking a bubble bath or sipping a big mug of tea.

Daily 5 - Year 2, Day 71

Today's Daily 5:
(An introduction to the Daily 5 can be found here.)

1. Waking up slowly, and semi-rested
2. mango juice box with a straw
3. homemade chocolate chip cookies
4. a very positive job interview
5. a great conversation over coffee with a M, a relatively new friend
6. marking things that needed to be done off of my list
7. packing for a week's break from grandma's while house-sitting at mom and dad's
8. playing a little part in this crazy movement to get the Blue Like Jazz movie made
9. chatting and laughing and snarking a bit while catching up with a dear friend
10. encouraging themes reappearing over and over the last several days

Monday

I'm laying flat on my back in bed, in a dark basement.

I'm wondering if upstairs, a call has come through from my grandma.  I realized as I woke this morning that I forgot to call her and tell her that my plans had changed - that I was staying elsewhere last night.  Oops.  Part of me feels guilty for that.  And part of me resents, just a little, a living situation that, at 27 years of age, requires me to report my plans and whereabouts.  I'm thinking about the fact that I'm sleeping there tonight, and that will be the last time for a week, since I've got a house-sitting gig starting tomorrow.

I'm wondering if this will be the week where the news about school will finally come.  I'm wondering how I'll handle that news if it's not an acceptance.  Especially given the fact that some key parts of my in Calgary support system will be away this next week.  I'm trying not to borrow trouble, or worry, but I really do fear that a little.  I'm working through it.

I have another job interview today. 

And coffee with a friend I met in a very unique set of circumstances late last fall.

I'm laughing a little as I lay here with a sermon playing in the background, laughing at something the speaker just said.  Everywhere I turn right now, the same themes are popping up over and over and over.  Value and worth.  Presence in darkness.  Over and over and over.

This is my week for official type appointments.

I need to fill out paperwork for those.

A meeting regarding government unemployment stuff tomorrow.

A meeting with the American embassy later in the week.

A few more meetings with friends.

It's Monday.  And the week holds things that excite me.  And things that make me quiver, just a little.

And I'm reminded of the overarching themes that preaching has held.  Of worth, and trust, of presence in darkness.

And I'm trying to hold on to that too...

Daily 5 - Year 2, Day 70

Today's Daily 5:

1. 1 year, 70 days of making these lists
2. a funny old lady on the bus yesterday afternoon "I'm 88, but I know I'm lucky.  I know I only look 70!"
3. wearing a cozy scarf
4. sleeping in a little
5. eating a cinnamon twist for breakfast
6. hanging out at the zoo with my friend F. and her daughter A.
7. visiting palm trees, even if they were the kind that grow indoors
8. Going to hear Jason Upton with my friend H from house church
9. the peace of being able to greet someone who unexpectedly showed up with grace, and not have it throw a total wrench in my ability to meet with God for the evening
10. quotes from Jason Upton - "practice resurrection", "I'm with you in the valley," and "I see you in the simple things."

Adaptation

Every year I forget how long it takes to adapt to winter. The first cold days hit and I'm freezing. I forget that, like anything else in my life, winter requires adaptation, and that it's usually a slow adaptation.

By January, I'll be celebrating a day where the high is -1 C. The weather that is making me achy and cold and grumpy today will be a welcome relief in February.

And I'm stopping this morning to consider what other things in my life just need some time for adaptation? What else seems awful now, but will feel like a blessing later? What gifts are hidden in the time adaptation requires?

(That said, this morning I'm going to the zoo with a friend, to visit palm trees of the sort that grow indoors, and remind myself of warmer days!)