Frustrations

I've been thinking lately about what God does to get our attention. To be honest, I think I'm fairly good at turning to him when I'm in the midst of a major crisis. However, I have a lot to learn about turning to him with the small daily annoyances of life.
Last week Robin dropped me off at work in Westbank with my bike. I was only working for a couple of hours and the plan was to ride back home on my bike. It was a hot, sunny day, and after trying to teach 1-10 in French to a kid who didn't want to be in summer school, I hopped on my bike to ride home. I had some things to do at home and should have gone straight there, but as I crossed the bridge to come into Kelowna the beach looked just so darn inviting. I biked to the library and looked for something good to read. I bought some ice cream and found a place to sit on a corner of a boat launch. the waves were lapping at the shore and I spread my books out, my bike parked beside me.
A parasailer flew by, towed by a boat, and I looked up at him with interest. It was less than 10 seconds later when suddenly disaster struck. A huge wave from the tow boat crashed against the boat launch and sprayed up at me. I started to get to my feet when suddenly another bigger wave hit. It completely drenched me, all my books, and started to wash my sandals and my bike away. I grabbed at them frantically and tried to stumble away from the edge before a third wave hit. Everything was soaked- from my purse to my new magazine to my Spanish textbook and bible and my clothes. A few people saw my plight and laughed. I began to spread everything to dry on the grass and as I took a step away suddenly I stepped on a bee and it stung me on the bottom of my foot. My immediate response was less than polite.
A young shirtless man was seated nearby and he said, "Hey, how are you? Do you mind if I come over and talk to you?"
I gave him a look to sum up my mood and he said, rather helpfully, "Maybe I can just come over later and talk to you."
There was nothing to do but pack everything up and go home. I rode home in disgust, muttering under my breath. When Robin came home from school I was still grumpy.
Unfortunately my little tsunami disaster wasn't the only frustration of the week. I borrowed a movie only to find there was nothing in the case. I ran to Marlene's to borrow her car only to discover I left the keys at home. I got a stomachache from too many cherries and a neckache from sleeping funny and a brainache from talking to some jerk at work who told me my marriage was doomed to failure.
I have my only little theory about why these particular trials came my way this week. In a general sense, though, I think God is quite good at specificially designing trials that will draw us into relationship with him. He lets us struggle with futility so we will look to him for meaning. He lets us encounter scary situations or not enough money or food so that we will learn to trust him. He lets us experience discouragement in relationships so that we will come to him as the only true and faithful friend and lover. He hurts us because he loves us, and wants us to love him.
So I know I've got a long way to go, but at least after the fact I recognized that God was trying to say something to me that day last week. Not only that, but everytime I took a step the beesting reminded me of what God was trying to say. Now, that's clever!

City, City

I've lived in Kelowna now for just over a year. It's smaller than Vancouver, more laid-back, more relaxed, more low-key. Hardly anyone dresses up and it's not unusual to bump into someone I know at the grocery store or walking down the street.
I like it so much that I didn't realize how much I missed Vancouver, until Canada day last week.
Robin and I drove downtown (about 10 minutes away) to check out the Canada day festivities. There were people everywhere! Booths with things for sale, food, music, a group of break dancers, face-painting, but most of all: people, in large quantities. In the evening we went downtown again with Bob and Marlene and two of their grandsons and their niece, to watch the fireworks. I remember being in English Bay as a teenager and hanging off a lamppost, and as far as the eye could see, people- a churning, milling mass of humanity that was all caught up in the same excited frenzy.
This was reminiscent of other Canada days: although on a slightly smaller scale. I was beside myself with excitement. Kids were waving glowing light sabers around and I could smell mini donuts and hotdogs and teenagers were painted red and white and everyone was waiting for the show. I breathed deeply of the scent of all the people. It was a familiar mixture of bodies, cigarette smoke, food, dirt, just people.
There were two little boys having a sword fight with their glowsticks and there was a young couple that looked about sixteen pushing their baby in a huge stroller. There was a woman who was much too large to be wearing her tight red and white outfit. There were hippies with their hair in dreadlocks and henna tattoos snaking up their arms. There was an old man with a hat almost covering his face, playing guitar with the case open in front of him for some change. There were families of all types and sizes sitting on the grass and the sand and the sidewalks .
We bought light sabers (I couldn't resist!) and sat on the edge of the waterfront, our feet dangling over the water. Off the shore was the barge for the fireworks and the excitement was palpable. We waited for what seemed ages, looking at people. There was a bit of misty rain and the speaker above us kept cutting out, and a beaver and a huge fish and someone's lost shoe all drifted past us in the water. Finally the music started with a rousing rendition of Oh Canada, and the lights shot off the barge like colorful stars lighting up the sky. The crack of the explosions made my chest hum and I joined in the oohs and aahs of the crowds.
When it was all over we walked back through the pressing crowds, stepping over broken beer bottles, and trying to keep track of each other so we wouldn't get lost in the gathering . We got in our vehicles and joined the throng trying to get out of the downtown core. Same old stop, go, stop, go. (Except in Vancouver I would've taken the Skytrain, and packed in with all the other passengers, sweating and laughing and talking.)
I remember being at University, buried in the chemistry lab and the library, feeling disconnected from the world. I would get on a city bus once a week just so I could smell smoke and bodies and look at interesting people and feel connected to the web of life I was part of. Something in me would miss the people, the humanity of it, after spending so much time with books and beakers as my primary company.
There is nothing like a city. Perhaps if I'd been raised in a peaceful, tiny farming community with cows as my neighbors I would be overwhelmed and bothered by the masses of people. But I wasn't. And being part of the crowd and assaulting my senses with the smells and sights and sounds of a whole pile of people all excited about something- somehow it grounds me, and makes me feel content within myself.