Only One More Sleep…

September 6, 2016September 6, 2016Splsh4Ripls3 Comments

The fall after we moved to Canada, back in 1975, I couldn’t wait to start school. It was just before ‘the big day’ when mom took me aside, and explained I would need to wait a little longer. My head felt light. A lump formed in my throat. And her explanation, that I needed to wait and start with my fourth cousin Kenny Guenther, made no sense to me. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to go to school. I had waited since I was about four, or even younger, when I watched my brothers and sisters leave, and secretly wanted to go with them. So whatever mom said after explaining I would need to wait, fell on deaf ears and a sad heart.Looking back I understand that it was only a short wait. But that wait seemed like an eternity…

I loved kindergarten. And grade one… and two.. and three… and four.. And I loved parts of grades five through nine. And then I left home and school. But I never stopped dreaming of it.

In my late twenties, maybe early thirties, when I found the courage and confidence to get my GED. But the longing to hold a ‘real’ high school diploma in my hand, never died.

In 2006 I returned to adult high school to take Grade 12 University English, just one course, to prove to myself that my grammar and writing were at least close to ‘on track’. The young woman taking my information at the desk asked if I had done grade eleven. “No, M’am, I only went to grade nine.” She informed me I would have to do ten and eleven first. I asked if they could make an exception, give me two weeks to prove myself in grade 12, and if I was in over my head, I would take her advice. She smiled. “You seem pretty confident. We’ll register you.”

Ms. Forwell was an outstanding teacher. I approached her before the first essay and asked for advice on how to write an essay. She looked bewildered. “But you know how. You would have done them throughout high school.” I explained that I had dropped out at grade nine from private school, and had never written an essay. She gave me permission to come to her any time if I had questions, and she would help me.

For my first essay, I hired an English teacher to proof and edit my work and give me feedback, and got a decent mark, somewhere in the 90’s. And after that I was on my own. I kept his feedback handy, and used it to edit my next one, and handed it in as early as possible, to get the bonus mark. Classmates supported each other. And the principal was an outstanding cheerleader for all students. She believed in us. She believed in me.

It was then, when I wasn’t even looking, that my dreams coming true, started to take shape. The guidance counselor wanted to meet with me. What were my dreams, my goals, so far as school were concerned. For the time being, I said, all I wanted was my Grade 12 University English. Nothing more. I had a young family–five children between 12 and 4. The counselor looked at me then, intently, and asked, “Do you realize how close you are to getting an official high school diploma?” I had no clue. The documentation I handed in included Life Insurance and Mutual Funds Licensing, a variety of college courses, and a resume. “You only need for credits, Ms. Metzger. Are you sure you don’t want to do this?”

That evening I shared with Tim. Only four more credits! I would take Chemistry, Biology and do a Co-op and with my English course that would earn me a diploma. Tim agreed that while it was inconvenient, I needed to get it done, and his parents helped with

babysitting. Thanks to Ms. Day, who patiently helped me grasp the concepts of Chemistry, and made Biology class interesting, both classes went very well.

Fall of 2006 I finished my final course at an adult learning centre. The principal called me not long after, and asked if I would take on approximately 10 students struggling in math–the one subject I had skirted by using my mutual funds & life insurance licensing, and the various bookkeeping systems I knew as credit. I made excuses but in the end her faith in me gave me the courage to try it. “I’ll try anything once, and if I am in too deep, I’ll let you know.” And with that I was ‘in’. To be honest, I haven’t a clue how she got by with it, with me not having my diploma, but she did. And I taught.

Our classroom was a blast. Each evening Tim taught me the lesson, and the following day I taught my class, with the support of a genius student. And by first tests, all students who previously were failing, had pulled marks over 80’s. All tests were sent away for marking, leaving no room for questioning. It wasn’t my brilliance that transformed their marks; it was the reality that I too struggled and once having it explained, I was able to connect with struggling students and explain it in a way that made sense to them. (God forbid I should be asked to teach those same lessons now… Tim would have to teach me all over again!)

Unfortunately, before the term was up, I suffered a massive heart attack, ending my short-lived career as high school teacher. By the following school year the adult high school closed down. I was in the last graduating class.

June 27, 2007, I graduated, having completed my co-op earlier that year, and handed in my final projects, and received my official high school diploma. The school honoured me with the Valedictorian Award, and the Governor General’s Award for highest academic achievement in the school. The experience of pulling off high marks in my courses, and successfully teaching grade 10 applied and academic math, boosted my confidence. I was no dummy, after all, as I had long believed.

I started dreaming more of university and what I would do next, but with my heart and health, it wasn’t the right time. I looked into it, but laid the dream aside for a time. For nine years I left it ‘on hold’ and in that time I took medication for my heart. It was summer 2015 when we suddenly discovered I had lost much of my short-term memory, which was mildly frightening. A little research into my meds and I found one with the side effect ‘may cause short term memory loss’. My heart sank. What if it never returned? What if it continued to deteriorate?

By September 2015 I had weaned myself off of all medications, determined to live whatever time I have to the fullest. It was then I decided that I would rather have my life cut shorter, and have a memory and feel well, than to take meds and live to ninety, but with poor quality of life.

In November a gentleman who had read a review of my memoir connected me with Michelle Jackett of University of Waterloo, and encouraged us to meet. In December we met and in the course of conversation she recommended I take some undergrad courses in the Peace & Conflict Studies. But within a day or two she emailed and encouraged me to consider applying to the Masters program, as a mature student. There were no guarantees, but it was worth a try. I met with the director and assistant to ‘ask a gazillion questions’ and in January I applied.

It was a long wait from January when I applied, to May when the email came in telling me I had been accepted on the condition that I was willing to do a 5-course term of undergrad studies, and prove that I am able to maintain a minimum of 75% in all 5 courses.

Tomorrow is the big day. I will go for a full day of orientation, in preparation for the first three months of study. I am excited. Mildly nervous… or at least with butterflies in my tummy… I don’t know what ten years of medication has done to my memory in the context of studying, but I know I will fight through and give it all I’ve got.

For the next two years my family plans to eat grilled cheese two nights a week, sandwiches two nights, pizza one night, and eat big meals on weekends. (Which my men will cook.)

In all seriousness, the course schedule is such that it feels very do-able. I will be away less with school than I was with one-on-one clients, and home for all dinners except Tuesday evenings. The rest of my week will be spent with my nose in a book, right here in the comfort of home.

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger

And tonight there is no one telling me I have to wait a bit longer. It is time..

To Be A Published Author… And Offer Hope to ‘My (Mennonite) People’

May 28, 2014May 28, 2014Splsh4Ripls

Dutifully I placed all my workbooks on the table before me, then seated myself in front of the stack. Grade 6 was over, and I had a long summer before me. Long enough to write a story, I thought to myself.

Flipping through the pages, I tore out all the used, marked and badly worn pages, and set them aside for the burning pile, leaving behind lined paper for my writing project. I soon learned to cut out the pages, instead of tearing them, to avoid losing the pages at the back of the book.

Having completed this task, I transferred the workbooks into double grocery bags to be used as my book bag. Next, I collected a handful of pens. I would need blue or black for writing, and read for correcting. And I’d always want a few extra. Just in case.

Finally, I picked up my emerald-green Pathway Publishers book. I had saved up my own money to by it at John Martin’s book store. How I treasured that book! It was the one book I could call ‘mine’. Such a beautiful green. And perfectly spotless when I purchased it. With that book as my guide, I would learn to write a good story…

I had access to countless books, growing up, Whether the school library, the church library, old Reader’s Digest–not all of which were age appropriate, however interesting–and even the old Encyclopaedias. I mostly liked reading about birds, animals and the human body. It was the source of my more explicit, though not necessarily damaging, sex education. Not that I fully understood what I read, and that was just as well.

Always books played a role in my life. Some good. Some bad. And always I dreamed of becoming a published author, starting back at age eleven or twelve, a little Mennonite girl on the farm.

“You have a way with words,” people told me then already. When salesmen came to the door, or Jehovah’s Witnesses, I was the one who most often spent time dealing with them, or debating and challenging. Now, an adult, I wonder what they must have thought to have this young 12-yr-old as the family ‘spokesperson’. (The Filter Queen salesmen called me that.) I would enjoy such a debate, if the tables were turned.

Mind you, I said all the ‘right things’ that I was taught and indoctrinated to say, not necessarily having challenged my own mind to explore. Still, the exercise was good for me in that it did present me with other views and taught me to think critically of my own beliefs, and the beliefs of others, rather than accepting every thought and opinion shared, as my own.

Words and book. Two things that influenced my world like nothing else. In earlier childhood books opened up a fantasy world before me, stirring the mind and imagination. But by my pre-teens and teens, most of what I read had powerful life lessons, evoking feelings, emotions and convictions that continue to influence and shape me, to this day.

And through those years the dream of becoming a published author have never died. Oh, they’ve gotten booted around in frustration, when the dream seemed impossible. I have, figuratively, cast the dream at God’s feet and given it a few extra kicks before turning my back on the crumpled heap. But always, somehow, the dream comes back to life, like that hardy perennial that exudes determination no matter the fierce weather it has endured.

So it was, in August 2011, at the John Maxwell Team conference, that I looked at my group of new friends and blurted out, somewhat randomly, “I have a great idea!”

In the minutes that followed I shared my dream of writing a book, but suggested the seven of us–Babak, Danny, Dennis, Elias, Eric, Sheri and I–all write our stories of overcoming struggles and challenges and arriving at living our dreams. That seemed so much easier than writing a whole book. And we’d be a built in editing team for each other. It was brilliant, they said.

We never did write that book, though we worked on the concept a while. It wasn’t the dream everyone else was meant to live. But it awakened in me a new determination. And I said it publicly. This time I would do it, no matter what. And that was what it took. Knowing that people were expecting it to happen. That there were people I had never met, in other countries–people I would never meet–who, together with my friends at home, cheered me on. A note here, a word there, a little reminder, “When will you publish your book?” A promise to my Amish friend, Rosemary Gascho, that one day I would drive to her farm and deliver a signed copy.

All of these thing propelled me forward. But, ultimately, it was God’s call that fueled my vision. The desire to tell others it isn’t over when it feels over. There is purpose in the pain and hell of life. There is redemption. There is hope. There is Jesus. And, for those who don’t believe in Him, my story will offer a glimpse into a religious culture and faith experience that even an atheist, I expect, will find inspiring. We don’t have to agree to be moved, challenged and inspired by one another. And that ‘touching of lives and hearts’ is my motive for sharing the story of the first eighteen years of my life.

It is also the reason I have dreamed, for years now, of publishing in my mother-tongue, Low German, and offering a book in story form, to ‘my people’. Only in recent years has it become a written language, and my dream is for my story to bring hope to my Low German, Russian and Mexican Mennonite friends and relatives.

And these dreams are beginning to come true, though not without challenge and hard work. Yesterday, May 27, 2014, I signed a publishing contract for my first book. The working title is “forgiveness for A Secret Sin“, but this may well change at the Publisher’s discretion, as well as the cover.

For the translating part of my dream, I invite you to join me. The cost, because it is a virtually unwritten language, is prohibitive. The translating and editing of it will be very time-consuming and a work to which I cannot contribute much. (I speak quite fluently, but have nothing to offer in the way of actual translating.)

For several years I have been in touch with a team of people who are able to make this happen, and reach many of my ancestors. The copyright of the Low German book will belong to Generations Unleashed, and the funds generated will support the ministry, financially.

To give you opportunity to be part of this amazing ministry, and join me in changing many lives, and offering them hope, we have set up a crowdfunding event, through Indiegogo. To read about it, and support the cause, visit our fundraiser HERE.

Please tell your friends, and contribute in any way you are able–whether financially or by sharing the event–every effort helps make this dream possible. There are ‘Perks’ for specific donation amounts, but if you wish to make a donation for another amount, simply choose the ‘contribute now’ button. (Sharing is made easy when you visit the site, with buttons just below the photo.)

Words changed my life. Words gave me hope. Please join me in giving a word of hope to ‘my people’. Together we can make dreams a reality. Together we can change the world.

Thank you, and God bless!

© Trudy Metzger

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2014: Embracing A Year of Adventure & Change

January 6, 2014Splsh4Ripls4 Comments

Each year New Year’s Eve rolls around, and we gather with family or friends, or both, and celebrate all that has been in the 12 preceding months. The good. The painful. The devastating. The incredible.

Through laughter and tears, we thank God for it all; it blends together to shape our lives, to make us who God wants us to be, if we give it all back to Him.

Looking back over 2013, it is with mixed emotions, particularly from a ministry perspective. We did more retreats and conferences than any other year to date, and that growth seems to be continuing in 2014. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, a few more thoughts about 2013…

There was a time I said I would never do ministry among ‘my people’–the Mennonite culture–because I feared rejection. Still, when God laid it on my heart in late 2012, I found myself, almost instinctively, planning a conference for this spring as though it was everything my heart had ever dreamed of. When fears surfaced, I pushed them down, reminding myself that the thing God calls us to, He also gives us the strength for.

The conference took place in April, and went off pretty much without a hitch. Worshiping God with so many believers from my background is one of the most wonderful things I’ve experienced in my life. There was life. The Holy Spirit was present, without question, healing hearts, stirring souls, and denominational barriers were broken. At least for some of us, and for a time.

That weekend opened a floodgate, and many new doors to ministry. I was busier with one-on-one sessions in the months that followed, than I had ever been, and that continues to this day. With those open doors, and those sessions, came more stories of abuse, violation, and violence against children. And as we worked through those stories, and mediated between victims and perpetrators, resistance grew.

Since April 2013, we have experienced more attack, more resistance, more lies circulating than we have in three years ministry. That tells me something. We’re getting dangerously close to exposing something the devil has a vested interest in hiding. It has nothing to do with Mr. & Mrs. Martin, or Mr. & Mrs. Weber, or Mr. & Mrs. Bauman or Mr. & Mrs. Wagler or some Ms. Anybody, or Mr. Anybody Else. Sure, they and their families might slip into a rage over the exposure of hidden sin, or they might retreat in shame and silence, and some will hate on me and spread lies, but it’s not about that.

It’s about God and the Devil. Ultimately God loves truth and justice, and the devil hates it. When lies come against truth, those walking in the truth continue to walk in the love of God and the truth of Christ. But when truth comes against lies and the devil, those walking in lies get all riled up and begin letting the enemy use them as tools to spread darkness and hate. And they suddenly busy themselves trying to cover their evil at any cost. And that brings backlash to anyone involved in bringing that darkness to light.

I said I expected it, when I went into ministry in the area of sexual abuse in the church. And I thought I did. I thought I was prepared. But when it came, it still blind-sided me. I wasn’t as noble as I desire to become, in how I responded or reacted. From time to time, when I met the people who were responsible for spreading hate against me, in stores or churches, and they glared or turned and walked away, I struggled. It took the grace of God to be kind, to wish them well, when, at times, I would have rather ‘said my piece’.

And that struggle is okay. God never asked us to not feel the anger, hurt or pain. He asked us to walk in the Spirit in spite of those feelings. I failed at moments, but constantly my heart cries out to be more filled with the Holy Spirit, and become more like Jesus.

It has taken a lot out of me, the battle in the mind. Hearing absurd lies about oneself, and having friends turn their backs, gets a bit wearing. But it has not changed anything as far as vision is concerned. Whatever God leads me into, even if it ends in twice the ‘hell’ I’ve fought this year, I embrace it.

Having said that, it appears as if 2014 may be a different flavour, and He may not be asking me to do any conferences here, with the local hostility. I’ve felt no ‘pull’ to find a host church for a similar conference, and don’t feel the slightest bit compelled to plan anything of that nature. (That will change in an instant, however, if God speaks the word.)

The only exception is a women’s conference, if it works out. We have a dynamic Old Order Mennonite woman from USA, who I hope will speak at a conference for women. She has a powerful testimony and is an anointed, Spirit-filled believer with a gift for speaking. If that works out, we will have her come join us for a local conference in late 2014.

All other conferences, so far, are scheduled out of the country, beginning with a mixed audience, Shatter the Silence Conference in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. We will work in partnership with Pastor Dale & Faith Ingraham, of New York, whom we had at our conference in April 2013. With true ‘servant hearts’, they will join us in sharing through testimony, and teaching.

After the conference,on Saturday evening, we will also do our first ever sessions–like a mini-seminar–for married and engaged couples. We will teach God’s design for marriage, and share vulnerably about the impact sexual abuse has on marriage.

It is exciting (if not a bit scary) to think about opening that part of our story to the public. Exciting in that I know it will help other couples, and scary because we’ve never shared that part of our story. Even my closest friends know only little snippets of our journey, and the hell we went through. I’ve never even written much about it. There was so much trauma, at times, and it was where the ‘hell of childhood’ came out in night terrors, flashbacks and angst like I had never known or acknowledged in my life. I think of those early years with Tim as my safe place to ‘feel the past’, really, for the first time.

Even now, as write, I’m back in that era… I even went back in time and purchased Silverwind music on iTunes, and am listening to ‘Only Jesus’. How I remember listening to that song, over and over again, knowing there was truth in the words. “Like a bird, whose wings are broken, wishing I could reach and touch the sky, Then the word of God was gently spoken, Suddenly my heart was free to fly… Only Jesus…. Jesus… makes my heart soar like a bird… Only Jesus… Jesus… can free my soul with His word…”

Tears pour unashamedly as I listen to the words, the music, and remember what once was, and the healing God has brought into my life. And the sweet truth that, when His word was spoken, my heart was healed, set free.

And that is the message we will share with couples in Chambersburg Pennsylvania, who are fighting the demons of past abuse, and hiding the shame of that struggle. That part thrills me.

There are several other ‘out of country’ events in the works as well, including a 4-week conference/speaking tour in New Zealand and Australia this fall, God willing.

Writing will continue to be a big part of my life. Possibly even more than in the past. A friend awakened an old dream to write fiction–something I tried years ago and did not enjoy then, and didn’t feel was my niche. But I may just give that a ‘go’ again, when I finish my current projects.

There is also ‘rumblings’ of a bill being passed that will prevent me from continuing with one-on-one sessions, as I do them now. While I have never called myself a counselor or psychotherapist, the reality is I work with trauma and using a Christ-centered approach to working through that trauma with people. It’s effective. It produces results. It’s life changing for my clients. But soon–I’m not sure when, exactly–it will be against the law for me to do what I do, as I do it now, I am told.

This will change my life dramatically, unless we work around it. Instead of sitting with clients 3 to 5 days a week, I will look at moving into doing more conferences and speaking. It’s a tragedy, in my opinion, though I’m sure the motivation is to protect the public. Or at least so they say.

Makes me wonder what the world was like before the government controlled everything. Probably some negatives, but maybe some positive things too?

The only way around it will be to do fundraising, and offer a free service to people in need of a listening ear. And, as donors get on board with Generations Unleashed to make that possible, we may just end up being busier than ever. What I know for sure is that God has redeemed every potential negative in my life and in ministry. No doubt this is a set-up for something very different than it appears to be.

As this change and the unknown lie before me, and our ministry, all I can say is, I can’t wait to see what God has in store. Each year brings with it pain and tears, intermingled with great joy and celebration. Looking back there isn’t a year in my life that I would erase if I could. Some are hard to remember. Very hard. Particularly those early years of marriage and parenting when the hell of the past revisited me mentally…. If it were not for the husband God gave me, with a patient and godly heart, I don’t know what might have happened to me.

But even those years God is redeeming and using for His purposes and His glory. Knowing this about Him gives me confidence that 2014 will be a Kingdom building year. A year of relationships. A year of Redemption. A year of Change. A year filled with God’s blessing in every trial and every success.