It Is 2016.

Happy New Year and Happy New Year.

I just realized that having long fancy nails makes it slightly difficult to type on my keyboard. ha hahaha. oh goodness. You know those terrible things that adults always talk about happening to them, to everyone in fact, as they get older? And you don’t worry, because you’re sure something like that would never happen to you?

Life has always held magic for me. Sometimes absolutely nothing at all can make me feel like singing and floating off on a wisp of happy clouds. And Christmas has never failed to send merry little qualms through my stomach. I’m the one who did a million summersaults in excitement and was told by my older brother I oughtn’t to get so excited because it means I’ll have a big let down.. (But I defiantly made it a practice to never listen to my older brother. ;)

And yet.. Stoicism is an easy pitfall to achieve. I feel like the joy often sought from things like Christmas and New Years is clouded and completely forgotten in the presence of so much extra stuff and hubbub. And yes, perhaps I’ve felt a little lacking in excitement this year… Or perhaps I’m just lacking the nostalgic retrospection of time having passed between me and said event that makes all my other past Christmases seem especially grand. (that sentence makes my brain hurt)

But! What am I trying to say here? I’m not sure, but if you give me a moment, I think I’ll say it.

At about 30 minutes to midnight tonight.. all the “I’m excited for 2016!”s and “Yay! A new year!”s we’ve been uttering finally became something other than a rehashed insincere exclamation from my lips. I felt it. (As wonderfully as I just felt that firework that popped off outside my window in the dark night sky.)

A whole new year… How thrilling! How thrilling friends! What happened to the Renae who held conference with the stars out her window, talking to herself and dreaming wild, not-so-wild, happy little dreams? The Renae who found a new book to be the most splendid thing in the world, keeping her pre-occupied and enraptured for days? I’m not sure exactly. I’m still her, but I want to do some of these things again. I want to aspire again… Because sometimes I just ignore even trying to do better at life because I’ve failed so many times. How incurably lazy I am! Yet I know the secret is held in never failing to try again when you fail.

So here’s to dreams, and aspirations, and hopes!
And happiness and optimism and smiles!

If its not too late, please excuse me while I go write down some new years resolutions.
Perhaps some new years prayers too.

I Have Learned.

If I were to tell you that this semester of college has been something horrible, you wouldn’t believe me, because its not true. But I couldn’t tell you that its been completely wonderful either because there have been some shades of horribleness in its blend. But just enough… Like the right amount of horribleness. As if life would spoil me if it was too nice.
I have been taught a few lessons in thankfulness this year, in gossip, in kindness. I’ve seen people for their flaws, and I’ve seen them for their virtues… Striving rather to dwell on the virtues.
I’ve heard others gossiping and belittling others for their flaws, and my heart has cried a little because yes! They have flaws, but so do I, and so do you. And horrible things could easily be said about anyone on this campus and be what they wholly deserve.. but not what we should give them. And yet, even as I hear others gossiping how often do I judge them in my heart and therefore become a hypocrite myself?
I’ve learned lessons in weakness this semester. Weakness as in begging God to make me weak so He can be strong through me.. Because my ‘strength’ only tends to failing and hurting myself and hurting others.
I’ve learned to follow and trust God, listening to that little voice that says “yes,” and that peace that spurs me on when I would in confusion say “no.” I suppose life’s not even supposed to make sense sometimes.

I’ve learned a lot of things this semester. But how many times did I fail, and therefore fail to grasp what God was teaching me in the moment? Many times, I have no doubt.
And even these things I have learned… Certainly I will have to relearn them again and again, next semester, next summer, next year. Will I ever “arrive”? Unfortunately, I think not.

But I thank God for this moment, and that I can see in this moment these lessons and hopefully retain them and their influence a little longer for having written them out.

So forgive me for bragging about what I've learned.. I certainly would not ask of you admiration, but perhaps rather have mercy on my stupidness.

God bless you, Merry Christmas.

Still Night, Still Soul

Echoes of their words take the air, in thoughtless haste they say thoughtless things. But the trees, wordless, hold a million thoughts. Raising their shivering limbs to eternal depths of sky. The stars are listening and they smile, singing back in silent harmony. In rapture I also listen, watching. Trees and stars my kin rather than people.

Emotions Have Their Wont And Way.

Emotions have their wont and way
Today I will make of the sky and sea
Trees and melodious winds
A bitterest enemy

Whom tomorrow
I would claim most readily
(And claiming make them so)
Friends of the chummiest sort

If I should see you today
I would skip and smile
And dance over your way
Because I like you very much

But an hour hence
Afflicted by many an unwanted thought
Our friendship has lost all chance
For my mind cannot shed confusion

If one day I take a vow
Repenting of all my sin
And before God humbly bow
Committing again to follow him

It is not long
But days, but moments
Like a forgotten love song
All I meant I no longer mean

Fickle in each choice
Fickle in each mood
Emotions raise their voice
And foolishly I listen

Writings Needn't Make Sense.

I wouldn’t beg you have a heart.. I wouldn't ask you to share the same joy they seem to sing. But don’t pretend in your darling way, to hold such magic in your steps. Don’t pretend you feel the breeze whistling through the boughs. Don’t pretend the sunshine make your dizzy smile to be dizzier still. Splendid realization of life is not a pre-requisite to a making of a life. Just don’t play a farce for something you can only pretend to understand. I walk on the gravel paths, because they crunch beneath my feet. I take the longer way, to let the blue sky make amber my thoughts. I give my eyes a smile to meet the smiles in expressions of the same. But if you don’t… please don’t. If you can’t feel a Robin as she sings up in the sky, don’t hum as if you knew her song. The mountains send my brains a flutter in thoughts of grand possibilities. But if to you they melt into a cloudy sky that speaks only of how the temperatures may drop, please don’t gaze hence and pretend you see it too. Your dreary reality I’d much rather face, than my dreams insincerely spoken from your lips.

Cloudy Reflections.

the clouds have come back
with their voices
they beg an audience
they will give the trees their mask
in oppression clothe them


more like death
this complete surrender
to the serenity of sky
more like death
than sleepy peace


I suppose we all need rest
even endless encores end.
trees do stop and whisper
secrets well hidden in mirth
make plain their stories now
when the white skies still
the heavy air.

Portrait of an Evening.

There's a certain kind of an evening that now and then falls over this place. A certain kind of an evening that I have gotten to know fondly in hours of strolling --alone-- just as the sun kisses the clouds where they drift in loftiness above the horizon. Warm winds pulling--playing with your clothing and hair as they gently sweep in from their hidden stores somewhere, perhaps, where the distant mountains roll themselves out into the surrounding desert.
The sun's kiss makes the clouds happy I think, because they blush all mellow and pinkish in among their moody shades of grey. They come out like embroidery against a sky of the most poignant blue, not blue-blue, but something with tints of green and yellow in it's brilliancy. Only brilliant until it meets the sky just above you, where the sombre black of night overcomes it's influence.
Black birds and sparrows (that look like black birds) against the light of sky wing their ways around from building to tree and bush to solitary benches-- frolicking almost, rather than really flying.
The moon gazes down from the darkness opposite of the horizon like a pure and holy soul in a world of sin. Beautiful, silent, but with it's own glow of joy... No, perhaps not joy per-say, more like peace. Wonderful-abiding-happy peace as it looks down and almost I can hear it say "I am content."

How can my soul help but echo this murmur of the moon as my dazzled eyes watch the evening make music around me? No people, no noise. A wholesome lack of anything but the simple beauty of the glorious creation around me. God made those clouds, God made those sparrows, God made this wind, God made the sprinkle of stars just peeking out from the shadowy sky above me.

"I am content."

On evenings like this I answer a call, not to socialize, not to study, not to work. But to stroll and stroll and stroll, and dance with a breeze and gaze upon a moon and be dazzled by a sunset.

Reflection on a Birthday.

You could have found her yesterday sitting on the floor of an over-crowded storage closet underneath a back staircase at the end of a cluttered dormitory hall. She sat on the floor and her smile was cheesy as she listened to her family singing “Happy Birthday” to her over the phone. She had woken up to a room decked out by her roommates for this momentous day, a day on which she would turn twenty and cross forever the threshold from childhood to something hideously like adulthood.

Yesterday was the absolutely craziest, most insane birthday I have ever greeted yet. After a slow sort of dragging morning sitting around, watching the freshman come in and socializing with upperclassmen, my afternoon exploded with work. Almost a non-stop go-go-go from 2:00 until midnight. And yet, as tired and overwhelmed as I felt (with an incredible desire to stick my head in a hole in the ground somewhere and scream) it was an exhilaration in the end that overtook me. And my birthday simultaneously occurring with opening day of college was all it should have been. We didn’t find time for a Baskin Robbin’s ice-cream run, I was able to see my brother for a total of 57 seconds, and the misplacedness I felt in and among all the day’s activities would be hard to be expressed.

And yet, what real difference does all these mere circumstances make? The important thing is— I turned twenty years old yesterday. And I feel older. And I have a million plans and aspirations for this year. Mostly just a permeating, new, and fresh desire to be everything and all that God wants me to be. What that looks like? I know in part, and for the rest I can but wonder ecstatically.

I know it means being less selfish, more willing to give of myself to others— even at my own cost, at my own discomfort. I know it means receiving much much more wisdom from God, walking in the light of His word and making the right choices. I know it means pushing myself far beyond my comfort zone, and seeing what wonders God will work.
I know it means being a better friend.
I know it means being a better roommate.
I know it means being a better student.
A better this, a better that. Seeking betterment through a greater realization of my fragility and weakness so that I may claim His strength more and more.

20.
Really, people, I’m a 20 year-old SOPHOMORE in college and if that’s not old I don’t know what is— and I can already feel the greater responsibility, the greater call for maturity in my life.
Which is slightly crazy cause I can’t help but remember what a sinful mess of immaturity I am on my own.

I can’t get this verse out of my head these days;
Psalm 40:17 “But I am poor and needy; yet the Lord thinketh upon me.”

No Longer Am I There, I'm Here.

I lay there, gazing up at the sky, just as evening was overcoming the day.
I went, fleeing from the busyness of day, out into the yard to catch a little moment of silent serenity. "Two days, two days, two days until I leave." And then an airplane spilt the sky above me, slender and white with little lights all over it. I watched it slowly make it's way across, and it seemed but a moment, and I was on it, or another one quite similar. Suddenly my two days were gone.
I didn't realize saying goodbye would be so hard. The act of leaving was bad enough-- but when it came time to hug siblings and parents and make all the proper 'farewells', I could only seem to manage a murmured goodbye and a tight hug as the tears rolled down my cheeks and my throat closed up a little and wouldn't let me do much of anything. I didn't realize goodbye would be so hard. I couldn't even say it properly, and oh, I wanted to say so much more!

But I'm here now. And all that is becoming more and more like a distant memory. The current is grabbing me again, taking me with it. People are everywhere now, and I talk to them. I work hard, and I hope desperately that I'll be able to get all my stuff out of storage soon so I can unpack properly. Already this life is greeting me with surprise after surprise and most of them terribly pleasant.

I think I shall survive. And more that that- I have an odd suspicion I shall enjoy it.

I Have A Feeling.

I don’t know why, but I have a feeling I’m going to be sad when I return.

When I give the house one last walk-through and say a silent goodbye with my eyes (tear-stained already most likely.) When I pull my over-stuffed suitcases from the vehicle and double check I have everything. When I feel a current of movement pulling me back against the airline seat, gripping the arm rests and making one desperate prayer we don’t crash. When I watch the naked hills lumber solemnly by on our way from airport to destination. When I walk the old familiar hallways, eat in the same old dining hall, see the same old people.

I can see (almost feel) it all happening now. And my heart beats a little slower inside, and I heave an involuntary sigh.

I have a feeling I’m going to be sad when I return.

It's A Soul Thing.

Rain is a soul thing, never convince me it isn’t. I woke up this morning to the pitter patter of rain outside my window and a glowering sky full of moody and dark thoughts. And yet there’s such a sweet serenity and warmth about the pale glow cast around the room by the pale light of sky. Everything is so thoughtful, so pensive. My messy hair flowing around my shoulders and my makeupless face grinning to greet the day. Yes, grinning… Because I can never help but feel when it rains that somehow, someway God is doing this for me. Yes, perhaps He has a million good reasons to bless the earth with rain today, but maybe I’m one of the million reasons. And maybe God smiles a little and thinks of me and says something like “Renae will like this rain.”

There’s just something about drizzly, dripping days of grumbling skies (aka rainy days) that remind me I’m incredibly blessed beyond measure and God- loves- me. And I think sometimes He says it with the rain.

I ache right now to be deep into the pages of some book, an old classic like Louisa May Alcott, or Charles Dickens, or one of the Bronte sisters. I want to turn up some jolly Christmas carols, let some candles blare on the kitchen counter, and cocoon myself up in my fuzzy blanket with the adorable kitties on it.

Rain is a soul thing. It’s a my soul thing. Maybe that’s the weather in my heart… It’s raining in my soul, always. So that’s where I get this strange wonderful feeling of kinship with days like this.


I’m so (sosososososososo) thankful and glad and ecstatic that I have a God who cares about me, in little ways (like rain) and in humungous ways (like having a perfect and beautiful plan for my life).

I’ve been thinking a lot about that plan recently. What does God want me to do? Some people are so dead-set sure about what God wants them to do. They’re going to preach, they’re going to teach, they’re going to be a missionary to some tiny village in the plains of Africa. But I think I’m finding out that whether you know what God wants you to be eventually or not… there’s still a boatload of trust involved. Maybe I do know what He wants me to do! But how? when? where? with whom? by what means? (and a million other ‘wherefores’) I have absolutely no idea.

But that’s okay. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. I’m a foolish, selfish, messed up person with a brain and fore-sight the size of a raspberry.. so yeah, letting God take care of the details is totally okay with me. Instead I’ll just inch forward, grasping at what I do know and praying everyday that God would take care of the rest.


Days like today lend themselves generously to writing too, you know. I could sit here and make rhythm with this keyboard forevermore. But there’s this little (big) place down the road called a greenhouse where they’ll be expectantly waiting for me at 9:00 sharp to come and sweep some dirty floors for a while.

And so, a-due till next time the mood strikes me!

Adult-ing.

So it's somewhere abouts 11:30 PM on a Saturday night and I'm sleeplessly searching my pinterest feed for "30 ways to challenge yourself" and "20 things women should do in their 20s" kind of lists.. You know, the one's that challenge you to be a better person and all that stuff. Should I be asleep? Yes. But sometimes sleep is a lost thing that I can only yearn for-- and laying here in the dark isn't as productive as many other things like yours truly (writing.)

So here's to late-night pinteresting and late-night blogging and here's to an over-tried myself and the fact that I'm turning twenty in just about three short weeks.

I was asking the other day why 21 is the oh-so-big number instead of twenty.. Apparently pretty much all the more that happens when you turn 21 is that you can drink- "well, whoop-de-doo!" This knowledge not really applying to me, I must admit that 20 itself is the cute little, awesomely-humongous number that sends shivering thrills up and down my body. T-W-E-N-T-Y, friends. That number sounds so incredibly adultish (perhaps because it is, in fact, adultish- and I shall have to adjust myself soon enough to adultishly match the number).. and every day I find my self adult-ing more and more in a rather alarming fashion. I can't say that's a wholly bad thing though. Actually, despite the terrifying-ness of it's existence, this adultish-ness in me I have to admit I rather enjoy.

Things like being a Sunday school teacher for the first time- planning out games and fun songs to teach the kids// preparing a lesson and baking cookies to treat my class. We even had a missionary guest in to teach the lesson and it felt so odd afterwards to be the one saying "Thank you so much for teaching, I think the kids really enjoyed it!", shaking hands cordially and trying hard not to betray how misplaced I felt (Aren't I still a kid? Wasn't it literally yesterday I remember sitting in class too?)

Being a legal driver for the first time. Turning the wheel with giddy excitement and feeling astonishingly easy with the movement of the wheels under me. Isn't this just Midtown Madness once again? (An old driving computer game we used to play- going 150 miles an hour and crashing into streetlights and mailboxes everywhere.) No, this is real life.


And yet, it's not an all at once thing either. I'm not all of the sudden grown-up with no warning. (Neither am I wholly grown up yet) I can trace the ever-widening streak of changes and changes in my life back through this summer, through my freshman year of college, through my jobs before that. Each tweak to my existence pulling me further and further from who I used to be-- and bringing me closer and closer to who I shall become; am becoming. The night before the funeral of an old-old family friend of ours, pretty much an adopted grandmother to my siblings and I. Surely I bid goodbye to a piece of my childhood that night through the tears?

And college? College broke me to pieces sometimes! How shockingly different from all I had expected in some ways... I didn't know I could make such amazing friends-- I didn't know friendship could be so confusing-- I didn't know some people would be so easy to influence. I didn't know I could make such a difference. I hardly realized the parts of me I would see mirrored by the friends I chose- parts of me I didn't even know existed.

Each fear I've faced, though I didn't see it then and I'm not sure I see it yet, must have molded me. Each foolish happy thing I threw myself into must have opened some little bit of my personality, never again to be contained.

I was crazy you guys. Undeniably, blissfully crazier than I've ever been before in my life. We may or may not have sat with our feet dipped into water fountains (along public walkways), gone ghost-hunting around an abandoned campus an hour before dawn, ran barefoot in the rain on a drizzly Sunday night after church,  danced our hearts away to Christmas fairy-lights, and a million other clandestine sparkling activities.

I've felt my heart stretched out to the accomplishing of things I never thought I could do. Through a bus ministry and children that I cried for// prayed for// laughed with// sang with// and even now the pictures of those times break my heart into a million pieces. How do you see such hurt and confusion in lives and leave them still the same-- trying, but feeling you could do nothing?

Being nineteen years old has surely been an adventure in many many senses of the word. And adult-ing? Yes, I've learned a whole lot of things about adult-ing this year. And in 3 weeks I'll be twenty and my adventure will continue. But a new adventure this time, different. Terribly different.

And now the clock is screaming to me that I've been an hour at my keyboard hammering- and perhaps now sleep will resign itself to blessing these eyelids of mine. If not? there's some stars outside my window that could always use a little gazing-at. So I bid you all-goodnight.

And don't think me too weird for all the rambling. I'm a slave to the fingers that let these thoughts out of my brain. (Or something like that. FORGIVE ME- I'm slightly tired.)

A Touch of Thankfulness.

Have you ever felt the sky above you, really felt it? The rugged rocks beneath your feet and the trees spinning by in a wild dance of leaves and shadows and haunted winds holding secrets they'll never tell you. Have you ever gone hiking? There's something akin to music that seems to spring from the scents of the undergrowth and the rhythm of snapping twigs under your feet.

Yesterday I relearned a lesson I've long forgotten this Summer. I guess sometimes it's just so easy to forget- to miss the fact in all my busyness of living that I'm not doing much more than that. Living, but neglecting letting the life around me -the emotions and beauty and energy- be much more than just a gage by which I can adjust my outward reaction.

I've forgotten to feel. In the craziness of coming home for the Summer and leaving my adventure and working at the greenhouse again... It seemed easier almost to gloss on an "I can do this." face and ignore a heart inside me that was asking for a moment of peace here, and prayer of thankfulness there. Instead all I could remember was that I had left my adventure and these days must be endured before I could return. If I had only realized that even being home was it's own kind of adventure just waiting to happen!

You see, I've relearned that joy is a thing entirely independent of our circumstances. It really is. I believe it's a thing we capture with the eyes through which we are looking at the world around us. Remember that every little wonderful thing in your life is an abundant blessing from God-- and if that's not enough, remember that you have a God who knows you and died for you and loves you so deeply and fully that He's continually orchestrating your life in a perfect symphony of pain and goodness to make you more like Himself.

How can stoicism or dissatisfaction or frustration exist in a soul in which such a wonderful truth resides- spilling over inevitably into extravagant thankfulness?

Yesterday we went hiking. And speeding our way past rocks and trees and forest upon forest I turned my face to the window of the car and watched it all in a rapture. "This is the Canada I love.. This is my Canada." I thought. I cradled a Tim Hortons coffee warm in my hands and let the music coming through my earphones make it's way into my smile, a dance of happy thoughts coming into my silly overthinking brain.
There's nothing much incredible about any of this, it was just a little happy moment, and for it I said a prayer of thankfulness to God.
In fact, I said a lot of them that day.

A Pair Of Wings.

Today is a day of a million feelings. A day of being home, and a day of being far far away.

I woke up this morning with a little lump in my throat and tugging on my heart, just a little, reminding myself that this was my last morning and my last day. And yet, everything around me spoke of comfort, of love, almost a false sense of security that I wasn't going anywhere. "I'm here. I'm still home."

Dishes being clanged and voices laughing and talking downstairs in the kitchen. A special breakfast being made, I remembered, in honour of our leaving. I started shoving my last few things into my suitcase. A few books, a skirt, a sweater. little things.

I looked at the clock. 2 hours.. only 2 hours left. We all sat down to a delicious breakfast, after a preliminary family selfie. Talking-talking-talking for the last time. Comfort all I feel, I love these people, my family. I love being me, more genuinely me than at any other time.

And after breakfast we're packing suitcases into the van, and the moments tick by faster and faster. And I begin the feel a little sick, and the tugging at my heart feels a little stronger. Now, I know I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry hard, and I won't be able to talk, and I wish it weren't so hard.

But it's the hardest just as we pull away, and first few miles of road take me further and further from the people that I love so much. But an hour or two down the road, something else starts trickling in. A gleam of hope. Is that what hope looks like? a little sparkle of excitement. Not the dying embers, but something new- just beginning and destined to grow bigger and bigger, and take over my whole being and gleam through my eyes eventually, defying all attempts at concealment. But then, who wants to conceal joy? It's a blessing and it's a wonderful thing. And let me say- if you ever feel the leastest gleam of happiness or joy or thrillingness in your life--- grasp at it- with everything you've got. revel in it. indulge in it. It's strength.

And so- by the time you've gotten to the airport and checked all your luggage in and gone through security and finally sit for a moment, just waiting now to board the flight-- All you can really think about is not what you've left behind anymore, but what's ahead. What's ahead? I have no idea- except that it will be utterly thrilling and different and interesting and challenging and entirely a good thing.

Next comes the flight- on a pair of wings high above earth and all earthly things. Similarly my spirit soaring and teaching me to believe- believe in the future and the present and the God who is my guide until my death. Every moment and I get a little more tense and nervous and excited as I just wait now for the boarding call. And we'll be off.