P. aeruginosa, burn, ethidium bromide, waiter and other awkward/stupid moments

As you know, over the last month I have not been writing about my usual topics, that is, awkward, embarassing or stupid moments. That does not mean they have not happened. I am still Chantal, and thus plagued with awkwardness and "blondness". So for those of you who asked for stories or are concerned that I am not myself, here is some point form from the last week and a bit.

The following all happened in one day.
- cut myself while making lunch
- in microbiology lab I knocked the lid off a plate of P. aeruginosa and stuck my hand right into the little buggers. This was alarming as this bacteria was a specimen from a gross dirty armpit lesion. I received the necessary first aid, but was not convinced it was sufficient so I washed my hand in a bleach solution (not recommended).
- making dinner. pulled pan out of oven and placed on stove. reach into cupboard above stove. burn belly. uncomfortable for days afterward as it was right where my pant line was. placed bandaid on burn. get allergic reaction to adhesive. awesome.

other moments...
- in class writing notes, girl beside me knocks my mug onto my lap, to tired to respond quickly, watch area of pants get wet, look like i peed myself, walk outside in -35C, freeze
-in micro lab, forget to put my gloves back on, reach into electrophoresis machine to retrieve agarose blot, pick up gel, remember gel contains ethidium bromide (a known mutagen), pray I don't get cancer
- out for dinner meeting at nice restaurant, debating whether it is better for kids to know anatomical terms or words like weewee, or peepee. waiter walks towards us as I say "penis", waiter keeps walking (with strange look on his face)

Aaaaaaaah!

Did you here that?

That would be the sound of me screaming into my pillow because I am so flippin' frustrated. Grrrr! I have pretty much run out of words and resort to simply screaming at God. Part of me feels really stupid because I am close to people who have pretty much been through hell on earth, and are just so happy, go-lucky. Here I am with a little emotional distress and I am freaking out. It's not like people are trying to kill me like they were David when he wrote the some of the Psalms.

One of the hardest things right now is that I don't feel like praying anymore. I feel like I have said all there is to say. I don't know what else to say, and I am sick of not getting an answer. Please don't give me any of the cliché answers. I already know them and they aren't really helping at the moment.

Do think if I went on hunger strike against God that would work?

Or maybe I will just hope on a plain to Thailand and do missions work without him. Yup that would be good, wouldn't? At least I would be doing something.

I would like to say that I am prepared to do whatever it is God wants me to, but that isn't really the case since I hate the fact that I am stuck here doing essentially nothing. I would do anything God asked me too except for the nothing that I am doing right now.

I don't want to come out of this like the Pharisees did the 400 silent years. Missing the boat and not getting the point when He was standing right in front of them. I don't want to go stale and have my faith become nothing more than a set of rules that I follow. Be nice to people, don't swear, don't chase after money, yadda yadda yadda. That's kind of what it is feeling like right now.

I wonder though...
Do I have to wait for God to tell me to go do something? I mean, He's already said once, in fact he's said it a lot. Look after widows, and orphans, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, all sorts of stuff throughout the Old and New Testament. Do I really need to sit here and wait for Him to say something specifically to me? Can I just hop on a plane and trust that He will be with me?

But there is more that I am missing. I don't just want a God who tells me what to do. I want to know my Creator. I feel so weird now, estranged from the one who knit me in my mothers womb.

Enough frustrated ramblings for one night... zzzzz

Now what?

I have been so blessed to have people praying for me. The last little while I have found myself so tired that I almost always fall asleep when I stop to pray no matter what time of day. I really believe that the prayers of my friends and family have sustained me and supported me, especially as I struggle to figure out what is going on. Thank you so much for praying for me!!!

As for this mission of mine, well, I am falling flat. I'm running out of ideas, and sadly, desire. My heart is no less broken for the girls who will be sold tonight, but discouragement seems to be taking the place of determination. What is the cut off point? How many doors have to slam in your face before you give up? This is almost getting ridiculous.

I feel like God has shut, locked, chained and double bolted the door and is on the other side playing really loud music and ignoring the knocking. I do realize this is extreme, it is probably more likey that He is standing at another, open door waiting for me to find Him. But I am without a compass or a sense of direction.

I have emailed and phoned just about every group and organization that I have found. Some haven't replied, most only accept professional volunteers (doctors, lawyers, accountants, etc). I have been blessed with a few friends who have given me "leads", local and international organizations, missionaries who are working in the field. Every time I am excited, thinking this might be it, but end up disappointed and back at the beginning. An international organization, which had a training program on rehabilitation, had its application deadline a week before I found it. One local organization has put a hold on its efforts for lack of funding, staff and general interest. I was given the email address of a missionary working overseas, but she just went on maternity leave.

Now what? Did I miss my chance back, during one of my previous episodes like this? I am fighting to hang on to this passion, but am losing my grip. What if I got things all wrong, maybe I am supposed to be doing something completely different. God must have something specific for me after I graduate in May if He is working so hard to close doors. But what? I realize that God is not bound by time, but does he not realize that I am? And that earth things have deadlines?

???

So I haven't blogged much the last week. That is because I haven't gotten anywhere. I am still a sitting duck. I went through this in August, was in contact with a few organizations and applied to volunteer then for, whatever reason, communication stopped, no one replied to my emails. I kind of gave up, assuming that God was saying no. I prayed about it, and as with everything else the last few months, have gotten no answers. Not a "yes", "no", "wait", nothing. I didn't want to keep pushing it if it was a no.

But there has to be more. I believe that our passions and deep desires of our hearts are from God. If it was no, then why is God weighing me down with this. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe it is not from God. If it was, then wouldn't he provide an outlet, some way that I could act on this desire.

Maybe I should stop wasting my time, and God's, if this is not what he wants for me. But I don't want to give up. I don't want to forget about it, I can't. But how many times have a I tried and gotten no where?

What about persistence? How do we know when to keep pushing and when to step away. I don't want to give up, so I won't, at least not yet. I have applied to volunteer overseas, and am looking into an organization within Saskatoon that deals with sexual exploitation of children. But I don't want to annoy God into giving me what I want.

Excuse me, I need to go scream into my pillow.

Lighten up

Either the events of the last 24 hours were completely coincidental or God decided that I was taking life to seriously and needed some laughs because it has been an awkward/funny day. I guess I can't stay serious for extended periods of time.

I am going to my aunts house for the long weekend, so I thought I would bring a bottle of wine as a "thank you for letting me stay here and eat your food" gift. I am absolutely clueless when it comes to anything alcoholic so I asked my mom earlier in the week what I should get. The only thing that I could remember at the store was something about Australian and cat pee. I wondered around the store looking like a lost duck. One of the employees, seeing me looking at the merchandise as if it was completely foreign to me, came over to help.
"Do you have any cat pee?" I asked.
He looked at me kind of funny and I apologized for my ignorance. After a few seconds he showed me some wine called "cat pee on a gooseberry bush". Gooseberry bush didn't ring a bell, I thought the cat peed on something else and this was from New Zealand, but I really had no idea what to get. Hopefully it's good.

Today I accidentally hugged my instructor. It was weird, but she was female, so it definitely could have been worse. For me hugging is the reaction I have to seeing someone I haven't seen for a while, even if I am not close to them. Well I was walking through the CUPE (university support staff) strike rally, like swimming up stream, and I saw her and she said something and I just went in for the hug. She didn't know quite what to do I don't think. I really don't know her well at all, she is the lab instructor so I see her maybe once a week (pre-strike)...
So I just took a spill because my chair broke, good thing I am a home
Anyway, so yeah, I hugged my instructor and didn't realize the weirdness of the situation until a few minutes after. Oops!

Then as I was walking across the bridge to the hospital I was the victim of a drive by sandwiching. Yes, someone threw a half eaten sandwich at me for no reason. I was just walking, minding my own business when I took a hit from behind and a flimsy cheese sandwich dropped to the ground. What the heck? Who does that?

Then on the nearly empty bus ride home I had the pleasure of having a 70 or 80 year old man sit next to me. He could have sat in any empty seat, but he chose to sit next to me and talk to me the whole way home. I don't mind conversation with strangers, I often talk to strangers on the bus, but this wasn't really conversation so much as it was him making crazy statements and me smiling and nodding. He talked about herds of geese, going to Jim Hortons for coffee, something about Diefenbaker and Trudeau and farm irrigation, terrorism, and a bunch of really terrible jokes that made me laugh, not because they were funny but because the whole time I was thinking "why me?". It got a little out of hand though when he put his hand on my shoulder and asked,
"What are you thinking right now?"
I didn't know what to say, what I was thinking was "Get me the hell off this bus, I am so uncomfortable." Luckily I was close enough to where I lived to get off and walk a bit.

Someday

Sometimes I feel just like
The butterfly inside the jar
I beat my wings with all my might
And though I try, I never get that far
Always up against invisible walls...

Until then I'll trust to fate
And use the time to make my wings stronger
As I press them against the walls of this place
And pray that it won't be much longer
Lord don't let these wings forget how to fly

--Someday--
Jason Gray

Moving forward

I think I have made some progress over the last few days. While I would still like to tear into the brothels Rambo style, and save the girls, God is showing me that is probably not the best thing, for several reasons. At least not the best thing for me.

The Rambo idea would be more a reaction out of anger. Once I got started, there would probably be no end. There is no way that I would be able to save every girl, so the anger would never stop and I would have to keep fighting. I would never feel like I had done anything as long as there were still girls being defiled. And there still wouldn't be any laws protecting future generations.

More importantly, so I Rambo everything and save these girls, then what? They might be free from the brothel but they are not free from the pain and fear. They have physical, emotional, psychological, spiritual wounds and voids. They still have no life, no hope. They don't know how to be children, how to trust and love or be loved.

I found an organization who might be willing to take volunteers. Well actually it is a coalition of about 20 organizations including Justice For Children, World Hope, Stop the Traffik and others. I sent a resume of sorts, and faith statement, yadda yadda, today. I am hoping to go this summer, I don't know for how long, and I don't really care what I do I just want to do something. I've also found a few organizations which offer training courses on helping victims that I am looking into.

The problem...

This isn't the first time that my life has been disrupted by the desire to fight this injustice. For years I have known about the horrible things that are happening in the world. I seem to roller-coaster an awful lot, from being really passionate to giving up and going back to normal life. Up until this morning I had forgotten why had given up before.

There seams to be absolutely nothing I can do.

There is lots of opportunities for law enforcement, doctors, lawyers, accountants, social workers, etc. I am none of these things. Of course there is a lot things I can do here at home as far as awareness, but I am sick of telling people who don't seem to care. And I don't see how that helps the family who is, unknowingly, about to send their daughter with a man who is going to sell her body, or how it brings hope back into the life of victims.

I am not going to give up this time. At least I don't want to give up. I don't know what I am going to do. Right now things aren't looking good, there is just no doors open. I would do anything I could to help, piddly office work, filing, data entry, vacuuming or washing windows. Anything. But it's like I am in a cartoon, where the door has been locked bolted and barred. I don't know why God would give me this passion and then leave me a sitting duck.

What I want (dream about)...

In the little land of make believe inside my head what I really want, what I think about more than being a doctor/nurse, is running through a Thai brothel Rambo style and rescuing the 8 year old girls who are being raped to death. I realize that this is totally not going to happen, and that it is just the little dream world that I live in. But still, there has to be something I can do.

These little girls whose soul has been ripped from their bodies, who have no hope, no faith, no reason to live need to be saved. I would give anything, risk everything to be able to save them, to give them a chance. I cry for them, spend sleepless nights thinking of them, praying for them, some days I am so angry I can't even focus.

For those of you who don't know what I am talking about, it is called Human Trafficking, specifically I am most passionate about the sexual exploitation of young, elementary school aged girls being sold into brothels, the lucky ones might be sold to some pervert to be his personal sex slave. I say lucky because they are less likely to be exposed to the same multitude of diseases, although maybe disease might be preferred so they can die and not endure anymore torture.

Estimates from different sources say anywhere from 700,000 to over a million living, breathing, feeling, humans are sold. Often what happens is men will come to poverty stricken villages and promise families a chance at an education and good job as a domestic for their daughters. These families, in desperate circumstances, send their little angels, princesses, pumpkins, cutie pies, some not even old enough for kindergarten, with these men. They are then taken to other countries, where they are sold to perverts.

The girls maybe locked in a room barely bigger than a refrigerator box or they may be placed
in one large common room where men look at them through a window and chose the soul they are going to destroy. On a good night they may only be raped five or six times, but some may endure as many as 25.

These girls may go months or years without seeing the light of day. They will be beaten both by their owners and the men they "service". They will likely never see their families again. They will be exposed to countless diseases and infections.

I cannot bear sitting here while this is happening. Injustice is not a big enough word. God is pissed. Action needs to be taken.

Check out this little video, there are many videos out, but this is one of the more recent ones that I have found from organizations working to stop trafficking.

What I know (at least I think I know)

I know that I was meant to love. Yeah, I realize that this is stating the obvious for someone who is following Christ but just hear me out. Some people feel closest to God in there prayer times. Some people when the preach or sing they can feel the Spirit moving in them and giving them words. For others seeing nature, standing beside a mountain is humbling and and brings them to their knees.

For me, earth shattering things happen when I am doing what seems to be menial tasks. Love is not always easy, or glamorous or fun, trust me, I know, I work in a nursing home. But it is unique, there is nothing else even comparable . I know that I am meant to love because of the way the Spirit directs me and moves in me.

I volunteer at a youth drop in center in the "rough" side of town. Most days, as I get ready to leave, I have a near anxiety attack because the category of "youth" terrifies me. But I know that God sent me there so I keep going. One day I realized why I was there. I was doing puzzle after puzzle with a few girls that were about 10 years old. They were showing me some that they had finished before I got there, and I was helping them tape them together so they could take them home, wherever that was going to be that day.

Then a little girl, five years old came and stood beside me and looked up at me. I turned to her,

"Hi sweetheart."

She didn't respond. She looked at my hand, then looked back at me for a few seconds. I smiled, and she grabbed my hand. At that moment, I felt the Spirit jump inside of me. When her little fingers wrapped around mine I felt something that is beyond words. I wonder if that is what it was like for Elizabeth when baby John jumped inside of her. Mary came by, with Jesus within her womb, and the Spirit knew it. The Spirit moved in the presence of the Lord.

This child, the least of these, Jesus himself, grabbed hold of my hand and brought me over to the humble little puzzle she had put together. It was on old puzzle, edges were peeling and pieces were missing. I would have given anything to be able to find those missing pieces. But the puzzle didn't need it. It was perfect to her, because she had put it together, all by herself. I helped her tape it together.

As we were closing up shop the man who has been running this youth center told me that she has never done that to anyone. He said she is always very shy, distant, not very social, even with him despite the fact that he has known her since she was born.

Why did she chose me? Why did Jesus chose me? Why should I be so blessed to be accepted by this little angel? The only thing I can do is hope and pray that she felt and saw a little of Jesus in me too.

Where I'm at

I am currently working towards a degree in Microbiology and Immunology. The plan is/was to finish my degree then continue on to nursing or medical school. Then after that go on to do medical missions in developing countries. Nice little plan, eh?

Now, I enjoy what I am learning, but I am not highly motivated to do the work. I don’t really study, and I don't dream about the day when I will graduate and begin practicing as a nurse/doctor. Well, at least not that much. It's not that I am apathetic about the idea, I love the health sciences, and there are so many ways that type of education could be used to serve God. But it is not what I am most passionate about. I haven't been brought to tears in prayer for people needing MMR vaccinations (measles/mumps/rubella). I haven't had any restless nights thinking about those who do not have proper health care. Don't get me wrong, it does break my heart, and I would be honored and humbled if God allowed me to serve him in that way. But there is something else that disturbs the very core of my being, an injustice that I cannot ignore.

Unfortunately jumping into the fight against this injustice is not easy, and is likely impossible for me in they way that I dream about.

TRANSITION

I've decided to change the focus of my blog (along with the colours, don't you love the hippie look!). I've decided to make it my personal journal, a place express myself as my head slips into the back seat (don't worry, it's not totally jumping out of the vehicle) to let my heart take the wheel. You are more than welcome to read it, but it may not entertain in the same way that did before.

I am on a journey right now which may have huge implications on my future direction, or might simply be an over emotional moment in a young womens life. Either or, I want to track my thoughts, revelations and frustrations as I let my passions take priority instead of trying to be passionate about my priorities. I am excited about where God may lead, but also afraid of being led by God. Crazy things sometimes happen when you give him control. As much as I like to think I have given him control, my decisions are still shaped by the culture I grew up in and am still engulfed in.

I will explain further this puddle that I am jumping into in the next few days. I may find it to be deeper than my rubber boots can take. But that's o.k. because I am bringing a snorkel just in case!

In a month I may find myself in the same place I was a week ago, still on the same path I am on right now. Regardless of whether my plans and direction change, I know I will change. Please pray for wisdom, discernment and opportunity as I seek to find a tangible expression of my passions and purpose in life.