WHITE WATER TERROR

I like to consider myself adventurous. The kind of girl that is up for new experiences and crazy escapades. Yet perhaps I still fall into the camp of the cautious since I’ve never broken a bone, never done anything too terribly stupid, never injured myself too seriously…well except for a concussion snowboarding, joining a bull-run in Nicaragua, second degree burns from a midnight ramen party, a torn knee ligament from having my dirtbike fall on top of me mid-jump, and exploring a WW2 mine that said it might have bad air inside. But all that aside…I’d never had a truly near-death experience until the summer of 2018.

It all started one day when I was driving home with a couple of my co-workers/friends. I had made plans to quit my job of 8 years at the end of the summer and so now my friend Bailey and I were discussing all the things we needed to do in the area before I moved away. We were living in prime Canadian wilderness and there was just so much good stuff to do. “Hey we never went white water rafting!” Bailey exclaimed.

The Budget Miracle

“Your GYC mission trip food budget is only $7000 US dollars?” Our local Iceland mission trip contact somewhat dubiously questioned as we traipsed through an Icelandic grocery store. “I don’t know if that’s possible.” He explained that he had been involved in cooking for church retreat type groups there many times and how it took much more money than we’d been allotted for our trip. My heart sank. But this was God’s mission! I was just here to serve, and I knew the rest would have to be up to Him, even though now it seemed like we were trying to cook for a mission trip group on an apparently too-small budget.

Several months before, my friend Ellen had been contacted about potentially cooking for the Iceland GYC mission trip. “I’ve really been wanting to do more for God,” she confessed. “And I feel this could be an answer to prayer. But I can’t do it by myself,” she told me. “You have to come with me if I end up going!”

“I’d love to help you,” I replied, “but I don’t know if it’ll be financially possible for me.” I’d quit my job almost one year before and had spent some time volunteering in Thailand since then. I didn’t have a lot of extra spending money. But I prayed that if it was God’s will for us to go that Ellen would be chosen as the cook and that it would be financially feasible for me. And one month later our prayers were answered. The mission trip leadership invited Ellen to officially be the trip cook and since they were paying for her flight, she graciously paid for half of my flight. We were going!

Shower Intruder

**Names have been changed to protect the innocent.**

Someone was hiding in the shower. Not something, someONE. I could feel it, I could sense it. Without a shadow of a doubt I knew it, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood. My worst childhood nightmare was coming true.

Did you have any childhood fears? Maybe walking in the dark, going into the basement, spiders or snakes, getting lost, perhaps a neighbourhood bully? Although I had my share of fears, some more substantial or founded than others, the fear that was on my childish mind the most was that someone was hiding behind the shower curtain. I’m not certain where this fear came from. Perhaps my brother jumped out one time and scared me forever? Honestly I don’t remember. But every time I had to use the restroom, that fear came to haunt me. Sitting on the toilet and imagining a strange and scary person standing behind the shower curtain literally right next to me was a horrifying thought for my childish self, for my adult self too I suppose. So as a child, I made a habit of ripping back the shower curtain with no forewarning for a quick check before every toilet sit down. I don’t know if I fully ever processed what I would do if I happened to actually find someone behind the shower curtain, but not checking and being horribly surprised while ‘trapped’ on the toilet was definitely the worse option.

Well one day I did find out what I would do if someone was hiding in the shower.

Tippy Canoe and the Lifesaver

The mild spring breeze kissed our cheeks as we sat on the beach, feet slightly submerged in the still chilly lake. Laughter erupted occasionally, but sometimes we just lay back on the warm pebbles in contented silence, enjoying the peace and calm and sunshine of a perfect Sabbath afternoon. We were on a weekend campout at a nearby lake, Seton, with a whole group from the high-school that I work at. We had just canoed about 4 kilometres (2.5 miles) from our remote campsite called “Long Beach” across part of the lake to an outcropping we called “Sandy Point.” Now we were relaxing and appreciating the company and the sunshine.

As the sun slowly sank westward, we all figured it was time to head back. Climbing into our canoe, and laying our life jackets on our seats for comfort, my friend Alexandra and I attempted to paddle in a direct line across the little “bay” to the campsite. But as we paddled, the sky darkened as clouds began to cover the sun that had once shone so brightly. And the air that had been so warm quickly cooled as wind began to pick up. The glassy lake surface was now choppy as gusts of wind whipped up the waves. We were about a third of the way back when one of the school’s speedboats headed towards our group of canoers, “Start paddling towards the edge of the lake,” the driver yelled. “Looks like a big storm is blowing in and it’s not safe to be canoeing out here in the open water with all these waves.” He sped off leaving us a wake of waves to bounce over. The lake edge was parallel to us across the inlet and not exactly in the direction we were paddling. “But if we head straight towards the shore, that will put our canoe parallel to the waves,” I pointed out. And anyone who knows anything about canoeing knows that’s a sure way to flip. Well we’d just have to slowly angle our way towards shore instead. The wind and competency of the canoers had separated our group and Alexandra and I were not near any others. As we gradually worked on angling towards shore, our canoe was no longer plowing directly into the waves. Unexpectedly a rogue wave caught our canoe, driving it parallel to the waves. And in an instant, without even a second to react, I was plunged into the frigid waters.

Adventures in Europe: The Frid Apartment

We'd arrived in Vienna, Austria earlier that day to attend (the most welcoming ever) church, but before we headed out sightseeing we needed to find our airbnb apartment; the owner was waiting for us there. However when we went to punch in the address on our GPS, we realized we didn’t have a house number, only the street name. Although we had the apartment owner’s phone number, we had no way to contact her. Navigating our way to the correct street, we found it long and filled with large apartment buildings. What to do? Alex(andra) and I noticed that at the main door of each building there was a list of apartment numbers and last names of all the occupants. This of course led to the brilliant idea of Alex and I looking for our apartment owner’s last name (Frid) on all the building tenant lists. I headed down one side of the street and Alex the other, beginning the laborious process of scanning each occupant roster and then traversing down to the next tall building. “I found a Frid, I found a Frid!” Alex soon elatedly exclaimed. 

It's Not About the Beauty

Lying on the fluffy hotel bed, it almost enveloped me with its softness, encouraging me to drift off into dreamland. But no, I had work emails in my inbox waiting for responses. As I typed up an email, I glanced over at my friend lying on her own bed only a few feet away. "I'm leaving in about half an hour to go out with some friends," I reminded her. She smiled and nodded in response, her sleek blonde pony tail lay smoothly against her back. And all of sudden all the old feelings came flooding back with a sickening rush.

A friend I didn't know very well had invited me to go eat and hang out with a group of them that evening. I only somewhat knew a few people from the group and now these old feelings had resurfaced.

What if they don't like me?
What if I can't think of anything to say?
What if they think I'm boring?
What if I say something dumb?

Merry Christmas!

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The Case of the Lost Austrian Passport

Several of the student custodial workers rushed into my office this morning. “Look!” they shouted, holding out a dark red passport from Republik Osterreich, “Do you know this guy?” I opened it. A 29 year old male with long “fluffy” hair stared back at me – Vladimir C. – no one I knew. But how did we have his passport? How was it here on the Fountainview Academy campus? How long had we had the passport? Where had it come from?

Apparently the custodial girls had been getting ready to send our leftover lost and found items to ADRA and started looking through a black messenger bag before getting rid of it. Inside were packs of gum, shampoo, dirty socks, an empty cigarette carton – and the passport.