The hardest part about not having a job or an occupation is not the free time. The problem is not not having things to do.

You see, there are many things that I can do and that I do do. I've been extremely involved with several non-profits here and my volunteer experience in Guelph will be enough to fill a resume by the time this year is up. I have cooked much, translated much, read much, slept much and have certainly found things to do. I have crocheted a scarf and I'm learning to knit. I've tried yoga and currently manage six Facebook pages. I've patched clothing, made homemade flour tortillas, have dreams of starting to garden and keep up with many blogs. I don't sit around with nothing to do. Sure, I have days where I do absolutely nothing, but that's not because there is nothing to do. I just chose not to do it.

The hardest part, then, is having nothing that must be done... No schedule that must remain fixed, no deadlines that cannot be moved and no appointments that must be kept. And with this, comes the assumption that my time is free... cheap... usable...shareable...and expendable. Since none of my commitments are pressing, they're rarely seen as true "commitments." Since my tasks are not jobs, other tasks can take their place.

That... that is the hardest part.

Restlessnes... Better When

I will feel better once I get my work permit.

I'll definitely feel less lonely once I make friends here.

We'll be happier once we're plugged into a church.

My thoughts wander along these thoughts and many other similar ones... consistently. I find that this is a well-trodden path. Definitely not the path least traveled. I know I'm stuck in a season of much waiting and have plenty of extra time, and I know that moving to a new country and new city takes many, many long months of transition, and I know that getting plugged into a church takes time and I know that not having a job is simply something I cannot change. I know all of these things. I know them full well.

And though having a job, making friends and getting connected to the local community are all good things and will all be welcomed blessings, they cannot be the things that bring me joy and purpose. My ultimate joy and purpose come from the Lord, not my occupation. My joy and purpose come from Jesus, not my (lack of) social connections. My joy and purpose come from God, not my church community. 

The New Year is a time of many goals and anticipation as we look ahead, but lately, I feel that's all that I've been doing. I've been waiting for each new milestone, as if that one will bring more contentment. In no way am I trying to discourage New Year Resolutions or the beautiful gift of making goals and looking forward, but for me, right now, in this time, I need to look here. 

I need to see the beautiful gifts that Jesus has given me right here. Right now. I must  smile with gratitude every time Lucas comes home and his simple presence makes me burst into laughter. I must enjoy our beautiful home and find the ways to bless our community today. I have to choose to be thankful for Skype, Facebook, What'sApp and every other service that allows me to communicate with my friends and family  that live thousands of miles away... instead of being bitter about the distance.

I still have New Year Resolutions, believe me, I do. I'm too much of a goal-setter to drop them altogether... but I'm certainly looking forward to loving this season instead of waiting it out, hoping it'll be over soon.

Slipping Through the Cracks

I tried envisioning these students in a mainstream public school. I could see the detentions and suspensions. I could easily understand all of their trips to the director's office. I could see their "lack of motivation," and oh, of course their "lack of attention." I could see teachers getting fed up with them and understand how they'd slowly, but surely, fall behind until they could no longer keep up at all. And then I could see them dropping out, getting expelled and in a nutshell... fall through the cracks.

I began my volunteer position at an alternative high school yesterday. Students range from ages 14-17 and all have somehow slipped through the cracks of the educational system. Many have been expelled from school after school after school. Others have managed to somehow avoid school for several years.

We began the morning with a "check-in" and students rated their mood from 1 to 10 and then shared a "brag" and a "drag." One girl shared that her "drag" was that she had been arrested yesterday and now was facing conditional charges. I tried to not let the disbelief show on my face.

Throughout the day the students were given regular smoke breaks and fuck no longer had any meaning. It was a common word in their vocabulary. Conversations involving drug use were quite common and one student showed up high.

I worked with several students one-on-one on various academic assignments. All of them were behind "age-appropriate" material. They needed constant prodding and reminding to stay on task.

While working there I was amazed by the efforts of the teacher and social worker to connect with these students and to meet them exactly where they were at. It was beautiful.

My heart broke knowing that these students had fallen through the cracks. Every one of them had been too difficult, or too lazy or not motivated enough or had too many problems for someone to deal with. They were just too much.

And my heart breaks for these "too" children. These children who don't have many-- if any-- advocates. These children who have experienced way too much life to fall into the "children" category, yet are way too young to be "adults."

I loved a poster I saw on their classroom wall:
Every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always.

Ah, what truth. I feel a little dizzy thinking about the individual battles each of them is fighting.