A New Vocation?

Taking the Bus

Since I am now a Vancouverite and the Stink Bug has not accompanied me here, the bus has become my almost-exclusive means of transportation. Other than the hot muggy atmosphere created by the rainy days, I really don't mind mass-transit. Plus, I have timed my routes so I almost always get a seat . . .

Last night, I went to my friend Sarah's house. At Regent, I have many friends named Sarah. In fact, for once in my life, Sarah is a more popular name than Jen. On the way to Sarah's, the "Next Stop" light kept coming on, but when the bus would stop, no one would get off. Mr. Bus Driver was not impressed. It happened several times. His mood worsened. He stopped the bus, and looked in his rearview mirror at me and said, "Is your bag touching the wheelchair bar?" Apparently some buses have a touch bar for easier access for disabled people. I was not aware of this . . . so yes, the stoppages were my fault!

Ironically, when it was time for me to get off, the pull string on my side was disengaged so I could not request the stop. I was scared to touch the bar so a girl requested the stop for me. I felt like an idiot.

Oh well.

A Different Bus Trip

A long long long time ago, I went on a journey to another country. Well, it was just October and it was only the United States, Washington State in particular. So I put on my thrift store backpack that is falling apart after its escapades in Europe, and walked to Granville Street, found a bench and waited for the "Quick Shuttle".

I was soon joined by a skinny guy who was also on his way to the Seattle area. On the bench, we swapped a few travel narratives and then discussed present reasons for being in Vancouver. He was waiting for a visa to go work in London.

Upon learning of my studies at Regent, he asked, "So are you going to be a pastor?"

"Uh, no."

"That's too bad. You should be a preacher. You have a sexy voice."

Hmm. Well, in spite of that comment, he was my bus buddy for the rest of the afternoon. He even pointed out that my previous Christian education must have failed me because I am not married. Once again, hmm.

Camping

Now, don't get me wrong, I love my new friends in Vancouver. God has blessed me and I am having a lot of fun . . . (oh, and I am learning a lot as well.) But there is nothing like time spent with old friends. There is nothing like not having to explain yourself or sum up your entire life in a few minutes so a relative stranger can understand a microcosm of who you are. I love being known without having to explain. And I love being in the company of friends whose love can be seen through the story of the years and felt in the present moment and depended on in the time to come.

So Matt and Nicole, Popich and Mrs. Amy Popich, and a couple friends of the Popiches, and of course, I camped by a fort by an ocean. We built a fort out of driftwood, ran around in old bunkers, played with fire, and hightailed it for the tents when the rain started to dowse our fun.

It was the first time I'd been with them since the two weddings. Periodically, my mind would step back and pause in wonder at all that has happened in our lives. I felt incredibly blessed to be there and to know them.

Football is more than the Roughriders

If you are from Saskatchewan or know anything about people from Saskatchewan, you will know that the Roughriders are our team. Expat Saskatchewanites take the green and white with them wherever they go. One of the apartments in our building has a Roughrider welcome mat. I'm tempted to go knock on their door and try form some kind of friendship.

If you have gone to Caronport High School in Saskatchewan, you will know that historically, Cougar football is about as successful as Roughrider football. Okay, maybe less. But that is not the case this year! The boys just won the first round of provincials. My pride in this is not due to a great love of the Cougars, but my sarcastic cousin Michael. He can sure run some touchdowns. I wish I was in Saskatchewan to see him. Go Cougars Go!

(Michael cracks me up. He loves the TV show 24. He wants each episode to be totally surprise and will not even watch the ads for the upcoming episode. He will literally cover his ears, frantically change the channel . . . I am tempted to watch the ads and phone him, telling him part of the plot before he can hang up.)