SeeLisaWrite

Stay Young, Go Dancing

2011-11-24T07:48:00.001-08:00

"Lisa, where have you been? We haven't heard from you in weeks."
"I've been doing some research."
"Research?" (somewhat skeptically)
"Yeah, I've been trying to find out what brings me life?"
"Did you find it?"
"Maybe."

November is one of those months of blah as well as some sketchy moustaches. I find my spirit wanes and my motivation for everyday life is in the toilet. I would rather be a hermit, holed up in my little nest, sleeping and reading in a cozy chair sipping tea than do anything else. Not very motivating, I know. But this has been where I've been. The pace of life continues at break neck speeds and pulls me along unwillingly. I bundle myself up against the biting cold and put my behind onto rock hard, frozen seats to drive over icy, snowy roads to do the things that require that I leave my cocoon. But somewhere deep inside I am have been in rebellion.

So much of life seems to be the default setting. Based on where you were born, your life follows a fairly predictable pattern. Here in the sometimes frozen world of the north, our pattern is: you are born, you are taught how to function socially, to a certain degree, you are involved in lots of activities to round out your personality, you get an education, a job that pays the bills, a spouse, a family, then you get old and die of some crazy disease caused by overeating or strange chemicals that infiltrate your body and shut it down. This pattern, if we are honest, sucks. We have become really great at insulating ourselves while going through the motions of life in the midst of our default setting. We insulate ourselves from the cold, the wind, food shortages, lack of technology, financial ruin, influenza, and adventure. The default setting of our lives, for the most part is safe. Nothing about our daily lives gets our heart beating so we have to exercise, watch sports and soap operas on television and yell at bad drivers. There is nothing that really motivates us to live fully. Survival is stocking up on the some of the thousands of offerings at the grocery store, turning up the thermostat, and turning on the hockey game.

I am tired of default. It has worn me right out and I didn't choose it, it seems. The adventure of life seems to have had the blood drained out of it. Adventure is dead. I'm not talking about jumping out of airplanes, or driving race cars, or swimming with dolphins. I'm talking about making everyday life an adventure. I refuse the default setting. I am going to choose something else.There are three things that I am going to experiment with to start my new adventure. The first, living with less. In saying that, I am not judging you if you don't choose to join me or if you think that I am a wacko. All I am saying is that simple, for me, looks like less, which leads to adventure. Finding ways to survive and thrive without iPhones, television, up to date fashion, and Doritos seems liberating to me. People did it before and I have a notion their lives were full and that communication, entertainment, the clothes on their backs and the food in their bellies was satisfying and genuine. I want to try that. It sounds exciting.

The second thing that I am going to experiment with is dancing. There's a song that I've been listening to lately called "Stay Young, Go Dancing". It's by a band called Death Cab For Cutie. (Mom, it's okay, they are not psychopath, goth murderers, they just have a strange name.) The title of the song really says it all. One Sunday morning, a few weeks ago, I cranked the tunes and danced my heart out. It felt so great. I am a horrible dancer, but it doesn't matter. Connecting my body to the melodies created by other humans, like me, makes me feel alive. I want to move. I want to throw my arms in the air and jump and twist and turn, because something inside of me says: "Dance, Lisa. Dance until you can't breathe. Dance until you fall down in exhaustion. Listen and respond to the life inside of you."

The third thing on my list is rest. After the dancing, I am going to do nothing. I am going to watch as the snow falls gently to the ground. I'm going to tell my overactive brain to shut-up. I'm going to close my eyes and feel the warm sunshine through the window even though it's cold outside. I'm going to say no to things that would rob me of the resting time. Not everything that I do is vital or even that important. It feels so great to be honest about that.

I have looked and have seen that the busyness of the world can go on without me for some moments of genuine, face-to-face conversation, heart throbbing dancing, and soul renewing rest.

Honor

2011-11-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

Jeremy and I always tell each other if either of us has something lodged in our teeth or if we have ambiguous crusty things around the corners of our mouths....that's usually Jeremy, just to clarify. It's just what we do. We are comfortable in each other's lives. We do this to help each other. We help because we care. But there have been times when I don't mention these kinds of things to other people because I do care. What is up with that? I care to not embarrass others by mentioning it, all the while they have green things clinging to their teeth and I try not to look directly at them for fear that I will be found out. Some of you may now be mortified that while I'm talking to you, I'm checking out your teeth and that I won't tell you if their are ghosts of meals past lingering there. I think that sometimes I just get shy.

A long time ago, I used to work at a farm supply store in a small town back in Saskatchewan. There was a lady who frequented our store that came mostly to use the bathroom. I am not sure if she had one. She spent most of her days wandering the streets, pulling her possessions in a wagon, rain or shine, sweltering heat or in the middle of a deep freeze, she was there. Her name was Rosemary, which I thought was a beautiful name. Her smile was beauty too. Her face transformed. The lines around her eyes deepening until only small slits of twinkling wonder were left. I would greet her and say her name, wondering if anyone else used it in an kind way. One day she came to use the bathroom. You could hear her talking to herself behind the closed door. Nothing that made any sense to anyone that could hear her, but she was communicating nonetheless. As she came out of the bathroom a trail of toilet paper dragged behind her like a train. People looked at her. You could see their thoughts swirling in the silent air. I couldn't bear to hear that silent roar of ridicule and disdain. As she reached the door to leave, I stepped behind her and put my foot on the paper trail. I helped her push open the door and told her to have a nice day. As I bent down to pick up that paper, I remember thinking that even thought most people thought Rosemary was crazy, she still deserved dignity and respect. She may never have felt humiliation or embarrassment but I would have, had I let her walk all over town that way. It hurt me that others would rather mock or laugh at the weak and poor among us. I was brave when it counted.

In my Heroes class this week, we talked about honor. We talked about how honor is a choice. We bring honor to ourselves when we give it away. Though others may never see how we choose to honor others, it strengthens us to do so. This is still a lesson that I need to keep learning. This life is not all about me. It's small acts of courage and love for others that can change things. I needed to be reminded of that today.

Labels

2011-10-23T07:38:00.000-07:00

I've never shared one of my sermons before, here goes....if you want the live version I'm speaking this morning at Cedar Creek Christian Fellowship....

We like to put labels on things. It makes things easier to find. Sometimes it makes things easier to put away. But mostly labels are used for identifying things. I imagine a surgeon in the middle of performing an intricate brain surgery saying, “Pass me that thingy over there.” His colleagues would shake their heads and say, “What thingy are you talking about?” Meanwhile, critical moments are lost because he doesn’t have a word to use for ‘the thingy’ that he needs. “That thingy over there” is not very specific. It could mean anything. It could mean anything from tweezers, to clamps, to a scalpel. Without the label he can’t communicate what he’s really wanting. People could start handing him all sorts of things, none of them correct. If he had a label for ‘the thingy’ it would be passed to him immediately. Surgery would go on. No confusion.

We like to put labels on people too. We use all kinds of labels. Some labels describe what people do: teacher, lawyer, farmer, accountant, nurse, mom, athlete, astronaut, and pastor. Some labels describe the amount of power that a person has: president, CEO, Commander, Corporal, Premier, Prime Minister, Queen, laborer, Emperor, Manager, VIP, Petty Officer, servant, boss, and employee. Some labels describe how we view the world: Right Wing, Left Wing, Conservative, Liberal, Philanthropist, Environmentalist, Capitalist, Socialist, and Communist. Some labels describe our age: youth, baby boomer, senior citizen, Gen X, Gen Y, modern, child, post-modern. Some labels describe your marital status as well as our sex: Mr., Mrs., Miss or the nebulous Ms. Some labels describe our heritage: English, Dutch, German, Ukrainian, Irish, Jewish, Spanish, French, Chinese, Indian, Metis, Aboriginal. Some labels describe our religious practice: orthodox, protestant, catholic, extremist, atheist, Buddhist, Muslim, Christian, evangelical, fundamentalist, Deist, Theist, post-modern, New Age, believer, non-believer. Some labels describe our problems: addict, alcoholic, manic depressive, OCD, ADD, hyper, lazy, and angry. Labels are useful to clearly identify people. One person could have many labels. Sometimes we use labels to hurt and draw lines between ourselves and others. Sometimes there is no emotion at all connected to being labeled.

Jesus has been given many labels over the centuries. Some of these labels are flattering, others not so much. Jesus used labels to identify himself too. The book of John is full of statements that Jesus uses to give clues to his identity. He calls himself the bread of life, the light of the world, the gate, the good shepherd, the resurrection and the life, the way, the truth, the life, and the true vine. These labels are hints to who Jesus is and what he is all about. I find that these labels also give me hints as to what my identity is, as a disciple of the light of the world, the good shepherd and the true vine.

This morning I want to look at the labels that Jesus uses for himself in John 14. Jesus knew that his time with his disciples was coming to an end so they go off by themselves for a bit. He starts the evening together by washing his disciple’s feet. Most of the words recorded from John 13 through John 17 are in red. They are Jesus words, full of last instructions, hope for the future and prayers for himself and his disciples. None of the other gospels relate this time with his disciples in this way. It was a personal time, a conversation. Jesus tells them what is going to happen to him. They asked questions and Jesus comforts the people he is going to leave. Let’s start reading at verse one of John 14. The red words say: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house there are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also know where I am. You know the place where I am going. Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” Jesus answered, “I am the way, and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on, you do know him and have seen him.”

Thomas, the man of questions, honestly asks what maybe everyone was thinking and didn’t have the courage to say. He essentially says, “Jesus, you’re saying all this stuff to us and I still don’t really get it.” Jesus responds with three labels for himself. The first one was “The Way.” Can you say that with me? The Way. When Jesus says that he is the way, this is something that Thomas and the other disciples would have heard before. In Deuteronomy 5:33, the way is mentioned. Moses had just received the ten commandments from God. God was making ‘a way’ for his people to be close to him. In verse 32 God says “So be careful to do what the Lord your God has commanded you; do not turn aside to the right or the left. Walk in ‘the way’ that the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live and prosper and prolong your days in the land that you will possess.” Isaiah 30:21 also makes reference to the way. It says: “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” Thomas knew that the way was describing how a person lived, how they experienced life, and how they could live in obedience to God. The way was following the prescribed rituals and commandments. The way was rule keeping. The way was pleasing to God. The way was impossible. What Jesus was saying to Thomas when he said that he was the way, was that he embodied all of those rituals and commandments that were previously the way to God. Jesus said that he was the way. He was the way to God. Throughout the book of Acts and once in 1 Peter, the early Christians were labeled as followers of the Way. It was their identity being aligned with Jesus, the way. Paul killed followers of the WAY.

The truth is a powerful thing. Sometimes we need to know it, even if it kills us. Sometimes we avoid it because the truth is too hard to take. Sometimes the truth is simple and easy to understand, like the answer to a mathematical equation. Sometimes the truth is asking us to be humble, like when it points to a fault we have. Sometimes the truth is asking us to change. For a long time truth has been treated like a weapon. If you have truth you use it to beat other people, that don’t have the same truth as you do, over the head until they see it the same way that you do. When we use the truth as a weapon that divides us, we have lost sight of the WAY. To keep on the path, the way, we need the truth to guide us. Jesus also labels himself as the Truth. Say it with me… the truth. When Jesus says that he is truth, he’s saying that the truth is available, it’s not a weapon to use. It’s free, anyone can have access to it. He’s saying that truth is within our grasp, it isn’t unknown. He’s also asking his disciples to apply truth to how they walk, the way. In John 8:31&32, Jesus says to the Jews that believed in him, “If you hold to my teachings, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” A few verses later in vs.36 he says, “So if the Son has set you free, you will be free indeed.” Jesus is truth and freedom.

So often we just want parts of the truth, the parts that we like, the parts that are easy, the parts that don’t require us to change how we act. We use the truth to justify what we want instead of letting the truth point us in the direction that we need to go, the way. We’ve all done this. Let me give you an example. Sometimes we go to the Bible, the word, the truth, to seek out an answer to make what we want to do alright. This is the “Well, the Bible doesn’t actually say that this is not permitted, so then I guess it’s okay for me to do it” approach to truth. Does the bible really say that I can’t sleep around before I get married? Does the Bible really say that I can’t smoke cigarettes? Does the Bible really have guidelines for how much I should give and to whom? This is often our approach instead of letting the truth, Jesus, be our focus; we focus instead on getting away with things that the truth isn’t clear about. The truth reshapes the way I think about myself and others. The truth says that sleeping around will hurt me and the other people. The truth wants me to be close to God. If we begin to make truth out of allowances, instead of letting the truth permeate us and lead us, the way will be lost to us. Jesus wants to shape our way. It’s what Jesus wanted for his disciples. “If you hold to me teachings, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.” This is beautiful. This is challenging. This truth, the Truth that shapes our lives brings freedom and life.

Jesus also gives himself the label; the life. Say it with me…THE LIFE. Throughout my years teaching Heroes, I have been given a definition of what most young people think the life is. It is: having a well paying job, driving a really nice truck, being able to pursue the hobbies that you love the most, having a gorgeous partner, travelling the globe, having a family, and living in a mansion. This is the dream. This is the life. We hear people say things like “So and so is really living the life.” The flaw with this dream, this life, is that it leaves very little space for Jesus. When Jesus says that he is the life, it’s an invitation. He invites his disciples to walk the Way, guided by the truth that leads to life, full life. I think that for most of us, we have not believed that when Jesus labeled himself as the life, that it is a life that we want. We have ideas, like those kids in my Heroes class that life is about pursuing ‘the dream’. When Jesus says that he is the life, it isn’t really attractive to us. The Life that we want from Jesus has more to do with eternity than the present. Our definition of the life will either lead us to God through Jesus or away from God; away from the way, and the truth.

So far, we have begun to digest the labels that Jesus used to identify himself as the way, the truth and the life. But there is more that we need to think about…the rest of John 14:6 says, “No one comes to the Father except through me.” For a long time, I think that this might be the only part of this verse that Christians have latched onto. This is what is on billboards and bumper stickers. This is what we try to tell the world. This is just the story of the cross, without a life that is shaped by the one that died there. This part of the verse gets misquoted and is misguided without the first part that we have looked at. The way, the truth AND the life are the access codes to the Father. Jesus says that by following the way, being guided by the truth, living His life, gets you into contact with God. Anything else is a sham, it’s just a show, just religion. Verse 7 says, “If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well.” So, by knowing Jesus as the Way, the Truth and The Life we get to know our Father as well. Our life gets rearranged by knowing Jesus and having a close connection with the Father. AMAZING!

I am in no way denying the story and power of the cross this morning. Some of you may be thinking that. I am saying though that the Life and relationship, or closeness to the Father, come through walking the Way and letting the Truth shape our lives every minute of every day. If you want Life in the present; follow Jesus. If you want to know Truth: apply it, let the Truth, capital T, change you. If you want direction, walk in the Way. In connection to the identity that Jesus revealed by these labels, the way, the truth and the life; how would you label yourself? Are you a follower of the WAY? Are you a disciple of the Truth? Are you an apprentice of the LIFE?

To close this morning I would like to read a portion of scripture from Ephesians 4 from The Message. It captures this idea of the way, the truth and the life beautifully and gives us much encouragement! Paul writes to the Ephesians these words from prison: “In light of all of this, here’s what I want you to do. While I’m locked here, a prisoner for the Master, I want you to get out there and walk – better yet, run! – on the road God called you to travel. I don’t want any of you sitting around on your hands. I don’t want anyone strolling of, down some path that goes nowhere. And mark that you do this in humility and discipline – not in fits and starts, but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each other in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at mending fences.

You were all called to travel on the same road and in the same direction, so stay together, both outwardly and inwardly. You have one Master, one faith, on baptism, one God and Father of all, who rules over all, works through all, and is present in all. Everything you are and think and do is permeated with Oneness.

But that doesn’t mean you should all look and speak and act the same. Out of the generosity of Christ, each of us is given his own gift. Verse 11 goes on to say, He handed out gifts above and below, filled heaven with his gifts, filled earth with his gifts. He handed out the gifts of apostle, prophet, evangelist, and pastor-teacher to train Christians in skilled servant work, working within Christ’s body, the church, until we’re moving rhythmically and easily with each other, efficient and graceful in response to God’s Son, fully mature adults, fully developed within and without, fully alive like Christ. No prolonged infancies among us, please. We’ll not tolerate babes in the woods, small children who are an easy mark for imposters. God wants us to grow up, to know the TRUTH and tell it in love – like Christ in everything. We take our lead from Christ, who is the source of everything we do. He keeps us in step with each other. His very breath and blood flow through us, nourishing us so that we can grow up healthy in God, robust in love.”

So, Run on the road, the WAY, know the Truth and tell it in love, become fully alive in the LIFE! Jesus is the way to the Father.

A Quiet Girl

2011-10-05T09:08:00.000-07:00

I was a quiet kid. I could spend hours cutting paper into tiny pieces and writing notes on them to my Mom. I think she still has one of them. This little scrap of paper with the words, "I love you, Mom" and a flower drawn in pencil. I also devoured books, which lends itself to quietness. As I got older I remember walking a lot and exploring nature in quietness. I don't remember talking a lot. Maybe I did, but I don't really remember that. I was at my book club last night and I was reminded of a story. We were talking about getting in trouble at school when we were kids and how earth shattering that was for most of us. So frightening for one of the girls that she actually passed out in the principal's office and whacked her head on the photocopier. Talk about a traumatic experience; she wasn't even in trouble! The principal just wanted to ask her a question about her brother, who was in trouble!

I remember getting yelled at by my grade three teacher. We were in the classroom working on some kind of school work. I sat near the window. Outside the window was one of my busmates. I'm not sure why he wasn't in his classroom. He made a gross face at me through the window. I remember it. He had boogers. He pulled the skin down from his eyes and his nostrils up with his fingers.....really yucky! I stuck my tongue out at him. With the eyes in the back of my teacher's head, he saw me stick out my tongue. The boy disappeared from the window as my teacher told everyone to put their heads down on their desks. Then he tore a strip off of me. I was so humiliated. I felt like crawling into a hole. I didn't get in trouble for talking, which seems to be the problem with most girls, but my tongue still got the better of me!

At some point, I found my voice. I can't remember at what point in life this started to happen. I'm still quiet a lot of the time, but I talk when I need to. I say what needs to be said. So much so that I write this blog in the hopes that someone will hear what it is I'm trying to say. I wrote and recorded an album over ten years ago. I was defintiely saying something then too. It surprises me sometimes that I have this need to be heard. It doesn't seem to go with the quietness that I cultivated as a kid. I think sometimes your gifts and abilities trump your nature. As a musician, it's all about being heard. As a writer, my readers may not audibly hear my voice as they read, but they hear my thoughts in black and white on the page. I have to say that it is scary sometimes. It is like going to the principal's office. Putting my voice out there in the hopes that it will make a difference even though my nature is to do the opposite takes all the guts that I have sometimes.

I think what I want to say today is that your nature can sometimes keep you from doing what you need to do. If you're quiet, you may be the person that needs to speak up. If you are generally loud, you may need to zip it sometimes and let other people talk. If your holding back because you're afraid, even though you're desperate to give it all you've got; do it! By stepping out of what is comfortable, your nature, to use your gifts and abilities you will see incredible growth in yourself. Your nature will likely not change, you may always have a bit of fear, but you will be doing that thing that gives you life and purpose.

Brothers

2011-09-26T08:15:00.000-07:00

I have two younger brothers. (No this is not a suck up blog, as far as I know I haven't done anything..???!!!) Anyway, my brothers are both incredible people. I'm not sure why I haven't written about them before. They have both influenced my life in different ways. They have taught me how to relate better than any other two people ever have. They are different from each other, yet they are both men of character and strength.

Long, long ago.....Jay, Me and Trav

Jason has always been the strong silent type. He's a thinker. If and when he speaks you know that he has mulled over whatever it is he is saying. Most of Jason's childhood was spent whispering his secrets to our dog and riding the lawn mower around in circles on the lawn. He's always had a dream. He is a details person. Nothing escapes him. He is instinctive and gifted. He makes some things look so easy. He's witty and smart. He is loyal an he is wise and has this strongness about him, kind of like a rock. Life has not always been easy for Jason, but throughout life's pains, his character has continually been honed and polished. In no way is he perfect, but I think that the proof of who he is has been tested and he's been found more than capable. People are drawn to him. They seek out his counsel. He plays rec. hockey and is known as the "Rev", not because he's preachy, it's because he's real. You can't argue with that! People want to be with him. I want to be with him. He makes you feel important and listened to. That's rare these days.I appreciate his example in my life.

Then, there's Travis. Where Jason is the strong, silent type; Travis is the strong, unsilent type! (It really is a type!) Travis is a talker. He comes by it honestly. Travis and my Dad are definitely cut from the same cloth. Travis is adventurous and extroverted. As a kid, Travis was the center of any crowd. He was so goofy and so cute. He captured people's hearts. He still does that. He is easy-going and takes things as they come. He deals with problems head on, there are no white elephants lurking around when Travis is in the room. He dreams about different ways of doing things. Things that some people would say are foolish because they go against the grain he does because he feels those things are honoring to others and to God. That takes guts. His courage to live out what he believes in the face of how the world pushes in his face is like art to me. It creates a different way. One that is challenging, but life-giving. Underneath all his lion-like courage, is the heart of a lamb. He is soft. There are no hard edges on his heart. He is open and honest. He loves people and they feel it. I feel it.

I love these guys. I wish that we lived closer together. I have so much more to learn from them. I feel honored to be the sister of these two men, my brothers....my friends.

Brilliance

2011-09-20T07:48:00.000-07:00

I am a big CBC Radio 2 fan. I listen whenever I can. The morning program is one of my favorites. I listen when I wake up and it often really gives me a boost for the day. Great music will do that to ya! The host, until recently, was a guy named Bob Makowitz. His banter and stories also made the program worth listening to. One story from a few months ago really stuck with me. It also made me smile.

Bob told about this health food store in a small town in Prince Edward Island. This store had farm fresh eggs for sale in their establishment that had never been government inspected. Who doesn't love farm fresh eggs? There is something about them that makes every other kind of egg seem very institutional. Anyway, this store had been selling their customers these lovely eggs for years. The farmer was happy, the customers were happy, the store owners were happy. Everyone was going about their merry way, until some government official caught wind of what was going down at the health food store.

Farm eggs need to be inspected before they are able to be sold in a store. This little kink was putting a major kibosh on a very happy little community. This is where the brilliance comes in. The store owners sat on this problem for a bit, thinking about how they could continue to provide eggs for their customers. This is what they came up with: eggs are now free at their store, but if you want something to carry them home in you have to purchase a carton for $2.75. Isn't that utterly brilliant? I cheer for the ingenuity of the human race!

I relate this story, not to promote 'beating the system', but to applaud great problem solving skills. So often problems get the better of us. They seem so insurmountable, so enormous, that we would rather just crawl back into bed than to face them head on and come up with solutions to them. Sometimes the answer is so outside of the box. Sometimes the answer takes creativity. Sometimes the answer comes in one of those 'ah-ha' moments. However they come, don't be afraid to look those challenges in the eye and come up with solutions that work. The solutions may not make sense to others, that's alright. They need to work for you and your circumstances. Be brilliant and remember this little story about eggs!

A Dangerous Woman

2011-09-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, my husband gave me a book entitled, Nice Girls Don't Change the World by Lynne Hybels. That title grabbed me. (What also grabbed me was the fact that my husband gave me a book with that title.) I wanted to find out what the author really meant. What was her definition of 'nice'? I have a definition of nice that was embedded in my mind by my high school English teacher. She said nice didn't really mean anything. It was not an adjective that she wanted to see in our writing because it didn't really describe anything, it was overused and lacked oomph. There are certainly words that could be used in it's place. Nice is a word that gets you out of saying what you really think. Nice is lame. As I read the book. I realized that the author's definition of nice was in sync with my English teacher's. Nice girls really can't change the world because there is no substance. Nice girls have lost sight of what it means to truly live. Nice girls are existing in a world of other people's expectations with no expectations of their own. Nice girls can hardly be defined because nice doesn't really describe anything.

The author details her own descent into 'niceness'. She knew she had dreams and gifts and passions, but felt that what other people wanted from her trumped all of those things. So she set them aside, nodded her head and acquiesed to niceness at the cost of herself. She was lost and defeated. All the joy of life was stifled in niceness. She began to realize that the opposite to a nice girl was a good woman; a dangerous woman. She had encounters with some these woman and was inspired anew at the amazing things woman were doing. They were living and thriving. They were changing things. They were inspiring others. They were conquering injustices and spreading hope all around. These dangerous women infused her. They peeled back the layers of nice and unleashed a woman who speaks and acts in confidence and grace.

Dangerous woman, Rosa Parks (mugshot)

This woman's story inspired me. Often a dangerous woman is seen as a bra burner or gets the label of 'bitch'. I am here to shed some light on that misconception. A dangerous woman is not out to seek credit for herself or topple mountains that no 'man' has ever succeeded in. That's not the point. A dangerous woman knows who she is and what she's about. She uses her beauty, not to seduce but to show the world that beauty does in fact exist. A dangerous woman's beauty captivates with her heart. She is strong but not offensive, that brings me to the other word I mentioned....bitch. I don't wish to offend any readers by using that word, but to clarify and speak truth. I don't believe that a dangerous woman is a 'bitch.' Any other definition of dangerous woman may include that element which makes you fearful of dangerous woman. I'm pretty sure there are some country songs out there about this kind of dangerous woman. This kind of dangerous woman makes you want to stay out of her way, but not the one that I am proposing today. A dangerous woman speaks truth but does not crush or belittle. A dangerous woman speaks with passion, courage and is not afraid to share it with emotion attached. A dangerous woman empowers others. A truly dangerous woman is someone to reckon with, but you don't have the urge to tell them off. Do you see the difference?

I know many dangerous women. I long to meet more. I long to see women truly alive and pursuing life, no longer drowning in 'nice' because nice girls don't change the world. The world needs more dangerous women.

The News

2011-08-17T08:30:00.000-07:00

I read about it in the paper. I hear about it on the radio. I pick up the phone and it's there too. The news is everywhere and most often it is bleak and heart-breaking. Souls fighting. Souls taking the life of another soul. Souls ravaged by abuse. Souls drowning in a sea of alcoholism. Souls dying. Souls full of cancer. Souls starving because of drought and famine. Souls that are homeless. Souls robbed of hope. Souls in prisons of their own making. All this strife and pain resounds in a sad refrain in the news. I could put names onto these souls, so could you. Sometimes the weight of the news seems too much. Where is hope? Where is love? Where is kindness? Where is light? Darkness, despair, greed, bitterness, lust and sorrow tug at the hope that's inside of me and threaten to pull me under in the dark undertow.

I read this other book. I try to read it often because it tells me that there truly is Good News. It comforts me. It tells me that there is hope. It shows me purpose in the middle of the darkest night. It buoys the hope that is inside me. It cradles my fragile thoughts and emotions and reminds me that this place is not as it should be. I sometimes ask myself what difference does my life make in the middle of the bad news all around me. How can I change it? What can I do? Is it possible for this world to be fixed?

Jesus quotes in Luke 4:16-22 these words from Isaiah 61 that infuse me with hope and light. "The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me because God has anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. God sent me to announce the year of his grace - a celebration of God's destruction of our enemies - and to comfort all who mourn...." Jesus says he has good news. I believe that He is Good News. The enemies that he is talking about are everything that we hear in the news. It's murder. It's greed. It's homelessness. It's starvation. It's abuse. It's terminal illness. He has conquered those enemies. He has put in motion a plan that has given hope and light to the darkest of days; the worst news.

Jesus asks that anyone who has ears to hear the Good News, to spread it all around. He says to his followers in Matthew 5:14 that, 'You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world." If the Good News is in me, I have light to offer the world around me. Have you ever been in a room at dusk? As the light fades in the room, colors fade. The only colors that you end up seeing are the non-colors; black and grey. If you turn a light on in that same room, colors explode like a rainbow. Red, green, blue, yellow, orange all bringing the scene to life. That's what LIGHT does. That's what I do. I bring out the God-colors in this world. In the face of bad news, I have love. I have compassion. I have justice. I have grace and mercy. I have forgiveness. I have hope and joy. I have peace. I have hope. There is Good News for anyone with the ears to hear it...Jesus.

Weeding Therapy

2011-08-09T09:23:00.000-07:00

Please read that title correctly. Not 'weed' therapy...just to clarify. There is something so cathartic about yanking ugly, bothersome weeds out of the ground. Some people punch a punching bag, some people run, some people scream at the top of their voice. Me? I pull weeds. There was a day a month or two ago when I really needed to blow off some steam, I weeded the entire yard in a couple hours. The weeds were really flying that day. Yesterday, I spent a couple hours weeding again. When I was finished, I felt so relaxed. I think it's because no one wants to help so I get to be alone with my thoughts for a couple of hours. I guess I really need that once in awhile.

I am one of those people who definitely recharges by being alone. I need time to process things. That time, if I am honest with myself, really points to areas in myself that need some recalibrating. Whether it's frustration, anger, unsettled thoughts, or just a busy brain, I find these times of being alone to really work out the kinks and refresh me for the next foray into craziness. I find that usually my frustration or whatever is unsettling me, needs to be looked at from many different angles. Weeding gives me time to do that. Weeding gives me time to sort out thoughts and get to the bottom of the issue. It also gives me time to pray. I find that weeding has double strength power for me. As I pull weeds out of the ground, I weed my thoughts. I pull out the garbage and I'm left with beauty, for the time being. If I don't weed, things get tangled up. Everything is a mess, it all becomes interconnected. Every issue is tied to the next. It all starts to seem hopeless and insurmountable. I'm not a drama queen, but if I don't get time to weed, my brain leans towards hysterics, which leads to headaches, which leads to more weeds! It's a bad cycle to get into.

Each of us needs to weed. It truly keeps us sane. Do what you need to do to be alone for awhile. Do that weeding in your mind. Getting rid of the clutter up there is healthy. As for the other kind of weeding, try it. It just might be your thing too! (One thing though, I am not available to weed your garden. You plant it? You weed it!)

Carpe Diem

2011-08-01T10:41:00.000-07:00

For as long as I've been a part of the Seatter clan, and probably for years preceding, a clock hung on the wall of the kitchen just to the left of the garden doors in Jeremy's parents house. It always let us know how many hours we had spent around the table feasting, talking, laughing and enjoying each other's company. Yesterday was one of those days. Hours spent in that room doing just that. The only difference was that the clock was missing. I looked for it. In it's time honored place now hangs a picture of Jeremy's mom, Valerie, and her friend Tina on the day that they made it to Mount Everest Base Camp back in March of this year. This got me thinking...

For all of us, time passes. Our lives are marked by the minutes, hours and days that we live. Most of those moments are forgettable. We check the clock to see is we are late for a dentist's appointment or if we are missing our favorite show on TV. The many mundane minutes that we squander doing nothing particular while our dreams are wasting away seem like such a tragedy. I get it though, we all have responsibilities and demands that must be met but doesn't it seem kind of crazy that we sacrifice the things that we really want to do in life because the 'other' stuff eats up our time. There has to be some room for both??!! If you sacrifice one for the other, disasters are bound to happen. Let me give you two illustrations. I knew this guy, he got married young. He was in love, he was happy. He had a dream of family and life with his wife and kids and he was living it. One day he sacrificed that dream for a different one, one that could only be lived out by himself. He left his family, his first dream, to pursue his second dream. He no longer has a family and I don't imagine there is as much fulfillment as he thought he second dream would bring because he's alone. Here's an example of the other side of the coin. This makes me crazy. I know so many women that have given up the things that they are passionate about because they have children. There is no room in their lives for their passion anymore because they have kids. The thing that they are sacrificing, their dreams, the things that they are gifted at, are the very things that kids need to be shown. Kids need moms that are alive and that are pursuing their dreams. There is a balance. There is time for both. There just aren't easy answers that we like for solutions.

Wasted minutes could be replaced by photos of a Mount Everest climb. We need to mine out those minutes from our days to pursue dreams. Everyone has a dream. My sister-in-law wants to record some songs that she's written. I have been kicking around the idea of writing a book. My dad wants to have some chickens and horses on his acreage. My friend wants to become a mid-wife. Some want to travel. Some want to create. Some want to teach. Some want to farm. Some want to race. Some want to heal. Some want to change the world. We only have one life. Carpe Diem.

Brotherly Love

2011-07-27T10:25:00.000-07:00

Well, summer is passing all to quickly. It has been busy and fun thus far. One thing that has been an adjustment for everyone, but mostly for Coen, has been the reality that his big sister is around all the time. All year while Elle was in school he would ask (usually a half an hour after I put her on the bus) when Elle would be home. Now he's not sure what to do with her and her with him. There have been numerous episodes of complete and utter meltdown between the two parties. It's like they are learning all over again how to be with each other. It seems so hard for both of them.

Last week, I was speaking at a camp full of teenagers. It was a great time. I really loved being able to share every night about God's love and how that love translates into real life. While at camp, my kids had many tantrums. Elle, because Coen was all up in her business, and Coen, because he was on the bored side and just needed someone to throw stuff at. One morning this was all unfolding while we waited for breakfast. I noticed a girl and a boy, close in age, sitting at a table having coffee together. It was not the first time during the week that I had witnessed this morning ritual. I had asked them a couple days earlier if they were related and they told me that they were brother and sister. I was totally moved and shocked to see these two siblings taking time away from the craziness of camp to sit at a table together and take a few moments to connect in the morning. Pretty incredible. As we waited for breakfast, the tattler came over to complain that the annoyer was pushing and I saw a perfect opportunity to talk to the tattler about brotherly love. A picture of it was sitting across the room having coffee in the morning sunshine. An older sister, a younger brother. Most likely ten years earlier a tattler and an annoyer now sharing moments together before another day started and they wouldn't have a chance to be together. I told my tattler to take a good look at the coffee drinkers. I told her to remember that her brother, though truly annoying at times, really is the best friend that she could ever have and though it is really hard to love him at times, it is not optional.

I had been talking about God's love all week at camp. I saw it lived out in brotherly love. This is truly an expression and a lesson to be learned and cultivated. We only love God as much as we love our brother. Hmmm. I read a quote by Abraham Lincoln the other day that also really challenged me in this line of thinking..."Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them." This is my hope for my kids. Though they truly are enemies at times, I know what is possible, I've seen it. The part that really hits home to me about this whole thing is that my kids find out what real love looks like when I love. They see it when I love their dad. They see it when I love them. They see it when I love people that are hard to love. They see it when my love is more than words; when it has been translated into actions. They see it when I say that I love God and then love the people around me. They see it when I destroy my enemies by loving them...what a concept?!

Theories

2011-07-13T08:30:00.000-07:00

I played a game awhile ago called Urban Myth. It was very enlightening. Most of the things that our mothers have told us over the years turned out to be myths. Carrots really don't do anything for your night vision. Watching television in the dark isn't going to ruin your eyesight. Spinach isn't a high source of iron. I was shocked. I had been watching TV with the lights on while eating my carrots and my spinach cause I was trying to cover my bases. It made me wonder how many other things that I am fed everyday as "gospel" truth really are just nice theories that people spout off not really knowing the whole truth.

This brings me to mosquitoes. Earlier this spring, there were so many wild and contradictory stories about mosquitoes that it made my head spin. It seemed every person I talked to had a bit of a different twist on why there were so many, what would get rid of them, and which wind had blew them here. None of these fabrications were based on fact and really did not change the glaring reality that there were mosquitoes and that there were a lot of them. Funny how people hear something and then choose to either pass it on in the next conversation that they have with someone or store it away in the memory bank as a wierd tidbit of information, which is what I did with the mosquito information after a good laugh at all the bunk that people spread around.

After playing this game and all the mosquito fables I started to really analyse what comes out of my own mouth. Am I merely regurgitating things that other people have told me as a means to carry on a conversation or do I speak about what I do know, reality and truth from my own experience? I can sure pick it out in the conversations that I have now. The more awkward you feel around the person you are talking to, the more the theories pop into the conversation. My theory is that we are more truthful and real with people that we know will see through our talk of mosquitoes, carrots and television. Generally speaking, we aren't that great at truthful and real, at least I'm not. It's easier to not go deeper than generalities and theories. To keep it all on a philisophical playing field is safe. It doesn't cause change in us if we only scratch the surface, and even then it may not even be truth that we are speaking.

I totally understand that it is impossible to have the real kinds of conversations with every single person that we talk to everyday. Those telemarketers would be in for a shock if you started telling them about your day and even more so if you asked them about theirs. Sometimes conversations are about relaying information, facts. Like when you talk to the tellar at the bank. They are more like transactions. You don't leave that situation and go and tell everyone that you paid your power bill and made a deposit for $235.00. No one really cares. But, when you have the opportunity to really talk and really listen, weed out the theories and take a risk. Be real. Ask good questions. Listen. It's no myth that we have a lot to learn when it comes to relating.

Gifts

2011-06-21T09:12:00.000-07:00

Words. Sometimes words are gifts. Sometimes those word gifts can really get you through. A couple of weeks ago I was feeling kind of down, I felt drained of my passion and my energy to keep sloshing through the muck. The very things that I love to do rarely have any immediate payback. I spend most of my time encouraging people to succeed and to become the best possible versions of themselves. This is a lifetime process and I rarely see the finished product. I don't get the satisfaction of knowing that I have accomplished something. It's kind of ironic actually. The very thing that I do for other people, the hopes and dreams that I have for other people, I rarely feel myself. My dream to inspire and to encourage others doesn't usually give back.

In the middle of my slump. Three different people, two that I didn't know at all and one that has the gift of giving and have known for years spoke through the darkness that I was in. The first was a lady that stopped me at the pool to say that the words that I spoke at her son's graduation a year ago really impacted her and that even a year later she was still thinking about them. Wow. I think I was kind of stunned. Feedback is always nice, but I have come to not really expect it much. I was touched and left that brief conversation buoyed by the gift that she had spoken to me. The second encounter was with a mom of girl that I know from the choir I used to play piano for. I had never met her before, but she thanked me for giving my time and energy to use my gift for others. Again...wow. I started thinking, "Are these people even real?" They were speaking to the heart of who I am. They had no idea that I really needed to hear the words that they were sharing with me. The third gift came from a friend and neighbor. He came bearing gifts, a genuine Afghan rug, which I have dubbed 'The Magic Carpet', and a beautiful pashmina. The gifts were amazing, but it was the card and the hug that went with it that brought tears to my eyes. I felt like there were people who really saw what I was about. The gifts of their words helped me not to give up, to keep going and to give gifts of words to everyone that I encounter.

I don't know where you are at. I don't know how you are feeling about yourself. But I do know that you need words that shine a light on your soul too. You have immense value. You are making a difference. Your thoughts and ideas are important. Your smile brightens people's day. You are loved. Your words are gifts to others. Your passion is worth pursuing.

White Lightning

2011-05-31T09:01:00.000-07:00

In writing this blog, my motto has been to change the world through words. It is something that I take seriously. I guess you could call it a passion. I find my greatest purpose in writing and speaking words that inspire people to come fully alive. Sometimes words need a soundtrack. This quote by Hans Christian Anderson kind of sums up the lack that I feel sometimes. "Where words fail, music speaks." I have been moved by music and it has moved me towards life and action. One of my new favorite bands, White Lightning, is on a mission to move people and inspire through the medium of music. These words off their Facebook page describe what they are all about; "Energetic modern rock that will make you dance, thrash, weep and inspire fence sitters to be world changers." This seems to be a tall order, but they deliver. Steve Bosch, Enoch Rottier and Jason Grilo have taken a passion for music, life and for people and have crafted a manifesto of Peace, Hope, Love and Lightning that calls out to anyone with ears to hear, that there is more to life.

They too are wordsmiths, like myself, but their influence is broad and far reaching when the elements of lyric and song intertwine. The first track, Satisfaction, off of their first full-length album called See It All, is a challenge to look inward at all that we think that we need and ask the question, "Do you think that all that you desire will satisfy your soul?" Every time, I hear the words being sung with conviction in the backseat of my car by Elle I know that though she may not understand it now some day she will ask herself that question. Those words are emblazoned on her mind and my own. Answering this question honestly does become a catalyst for change in our world. It is a question that begs to be answered by this generation. The answer is echoed in the lyrics of the song 'See It All'. "I want to live the life of no regrets. Be free, live free. Know how to say no. Know when to say yes." These words are the heart cry of a generation bombarded by so many distractions that are fueled by consumerism, self-absorbed success and an every-man-for-himself mindset. Deep within each of us, there is a desire for something real. Something that we get to unlock about ourselves that gives us meaning and purpose in life. Something that we were created to do that goes beyond making a living and acquiring stuff.

I have come to believe that this world will never be changed by better politics or a reformation in money-hungry world powers. Reformation will happen through people who ask honest questions of themselves and others. Change will happen when people allow themselves to be moved from "fence sitters into world changers". This is change at a grass-roots level, where people live, work and play. It happens when we take the message of inspired people like White Lightning and run with it. As White Lightning continues to hone their skills as musicians, songwriters and entertainers they will fulfill their mission as reformers of a era that is seeking something more, something else, something to live for.

To hear some tunes, watch some live performances and get your hands on some epic inspired music check out White Lightning's website @ http://www.whitelightningmusic.com/

What goes up....

2011-05-20T09:19:00.000-07:00

I coined a phrase regarding my little guy Coen recently. Coen is addicted to gravity. He is constantly doing the research to prove that gravity exists. Be it rocks, kittens, or his favorite toy, Woody, everything is thrown up into the air. I've also seen him with his toes, three steps from the bottom of the stairs, precariously far over the edge, creeping closer and closer over the edge until there is no other option but to fall, face-first, down three stairs and then get up and try it again? I'm not sure what it is about his little psyche that doesn't believe that whatever he throws, himself included, will not return to the earth. Maybe he's hoping that it, or himself will fly?! Strange things are afoot!

I think ultimately he has trust issues. I have put him in swimming lessons for the last couple of months. He absolutely despises getting his face wet. I bought him goggles just so we could get through the lessons without the screams of bloody murder echoing throughout the pool. I forgot to mention that I am in the swimming lesson with him. He frantically clings to me. He cannot trust that I will not let him go. He cannot believe that I, his mother, would do anything to ensure that he will NOT drown. At this rate I may still be in swimming lessons with him when he is twenty. Sometimes fear, lack of trust, gets the upper hand in our lives. The result is hell. The irony of this whole thing is, is that if Coen could calm down and hear the comforting words of someone that loves him with an overflowing heart, maybe fears would take a back seat and he could actually enjoy being in the water. He chooses to be afraid and to cry and yell, while peace is there within his grasp. To me this definitely describes hell.

We also choose hell for ourselves at times. We worry about things that are beyond our control. We stay up late in bed mulling over problems and worries that can never be changed by our own troubled thoughts. The result is a tormented soul, far from peace and hope and joy while all of those things are within our grasp. We may even be clinging desperately to them but cannot hear or feel the assurance that comes from them because we are wrapped in our fear, doubt and pain.

Maybe you have experienced this. Whatever your hell has been, HOPE is there. Trust. Reach out and grab a hold of PEACE. Be quiet. Rest. The storm can be over, if you allow it.

Grain Car Graffiti

2011-05-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

"I lost a friend today." These words have been etched in my brain this week. I saw them painted in graffiti on the side of a grain car as I waited for a train to go by. Some of you may argue that graffiti is not art. But according to my definition, it is. Here's my definition of art; an expression, be it music, painting, words or otherwise, that captures a thought or an emotion. As I've pondered and wondered what prompted someone to paint those heart breaking words on to the side of a grain car, I have come to understand that art is also about imagination.

"I lost a friend today" are words that are the ending of a story. A story that I will never know, but I can imagine. I imagine that these words could have been the result of a tragic death. These words also could have been because of a divorce or a relationship breakdown. Or they could have been the result of a misunderstanding that could not be repaired between best friends. My imagination sees many images that play out the scenes that end in the emotional angst of these haunting words, "I lost a friend today." My heart's memory is also awakened to times when I too have lost a friend.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. But five small words create a thousand pictures in my head. So I guess you could say that these five words by themselves may not conjure emotion or imagination but together have a huge impact. There is a message in them. As that train travels throughout the land, that message will be spoken. The loss of a friend is something that we have all experienced to varying degrees throughout our lives. We have all felt the sting of loss. Whether we wrote a song about it, or spray painted words on the side of a train car, sharing our pain, or whether forever in our hearts and minds there is a tattoo with that person's name on it, we remember. We remember laughing. We remember sharing secrets. We remember love. We remember long talks. We remember dreaming together. We remember the day that it ended and we grieve, maybe to this day, about a friendship that has been lost.

Tell a friend today what they mean to you. Maybe it means that you have to repair and mend a friendship that is broken. Do what it takes to fix it. True friends are rare....

Lifeboat

2011-05-02T11:32:00.000-07:00

I rarely comment on what is happening in the world news but I just heard the news that Osama Bin Laden is dead. I was somewhat taken aback by the rejoicing that people were doing over the fact that he had been killed. It kind of stung me actually. As humans, have we become so desensitized that we are happy, even ecstatic when someone is killed?

Several years ago, I read a book by Donald Miller and in it he talk about the value that we place on people by using the illustration of a lifeboat. I am going to put it in my own words with this scenario... You, as well as nine other people are on a large boat that is sinking. It is discovered that there are not enough spaces in the lifeboat for everyone to be able to be saved. Somehow in this surreal scenario, you have been given the final say in who makes it on to the lifeboat and who doesn't. There is space for six people. Among the passengers are a pregnant woman, and elderly gentleman, Wayne Gretzky, a child, The Pope, Osama Bin Laden, a quadriplegic man, a serial rapist, Bono, and of course yourself. You don't have a long time to decide who gets saved. What do you do? Do only good people deserve to be saved? Does noted fame or talent make someone more worthy? What about age? Does someone at a young age deserve life more than someone who has reached a ripe old age? Do only people who contribute to society garner the nod of life? Do terrorists and rapists deserve to be saved? What about you? What value does your life have? Are you for sure on the boat without a question? What makes your life more valuable than any other? Would you give up your place on the boat for someone else? Do any of these people not deserve a second chance at life? To be better? To change? Where does a person's value lie? At what point are people a right off? When is there a point of no return for someone? Is it when they are terrorists? How about if they just reach a certain age? What if they are severely disabled? What if they are unborn?

This illustration, to me, is something that we all need to wrestle with. So often, we don't even realize how we look at others or ourselves. We place value on people by some sort of ranking system. Evil people should definitely be lower on the list than those that contribute and make the world better. Right? These people even deserve death? And we do a jig when we hear that they have gotten what they deserve? At what point have we decided that we are at the top, that somehow because we have made different choices or were raised in a different culture or religion that we have more value? Honestly now, when was the last time you slandered someone with your words? What about lying? What about gossip? What about intentionally pushing some one's buttons to hurt them? What about feeling jealous or envious? What about blowing a gasket at your spouse or your kid or your boss or someone in traffic?

The world does not change when what we call "bad" people are killed. The world changes when we can look at ourselves honestly and say that we are "bad" as well. At that point we realize we need grace; a second chance. It's when we realize that every person has immeasurable value and that we could give up our own lives, through dying and living, for the world to be better that something truly amazing can happen.

Dress Mess

2011-04-29T10:30:00.000-07:00

So yesterday I took my favorite three-year-old to the city with me to look for a dress. I have at least two weddings to go to this summer and I thought maybe, just maybe I could find something. I could wear the one dress that I've worn pretty much everywhere for the last three years but it's starting to look a little shabby! Let's just say, Coen is a terrific shopper. Upbeat, energetic, positive. His mom, on the other hand, has a lot of trouble being positive about the things they call dresses these days!

I think maybe my trouble is that I have a checklist of must-haves for the dress that I want. The dress of my dreams must be: well made, comfortable, stylish yet classic, fit well, no cleavage (who am I kidding? I don't have any!), not some flimsy material that wrinkles if you look at it the wrong way, and within my price range!! I know, tough customer. Needless to say, I tried on many dresses yesterday and came home dress less. I am starting to think it may be impossible or maybe I'm just too vain to find a so-so dress and buy it, even though it is NOT perfect in my mind.

I tried on long dresses, short dresses, silky dresses, flowery dresses, romantic dresses, cheeky dresses, all-business dresses, tight dresses, and dresses that should never have left the hanger. At one point one of the ribbons that are used to hang dresses on a hanger got stuck in a zipper and I was pretty sure I was going to have to get outside help. That would have been attractive!!?? I imagined myself saying something like this....."Excuse me, I am stuck in this dress and I utterly abhor it. Could you please stick your face in my sweaty, hot underarm area and dislodge the ribbon from this zipper? Thanks a bunch." Thankfully, just before I entered the utter humiliation zone where grown-women cannot dress themselves, the ribbon came free and I could unzip! The best news is that no one had to see me in that dress except for Coen!!!

This morning as I watched some highlights from the Royal Wedding, I was reassured that my lot to find a dress really isn't so bad. These are the perks....I will never be televised to the masses worldwide wearing the dress that I choose, and I don't have to find a HAT to match! Thank heavens for that!

I

Agreed?

2011-04-25T08:35:00.000-07:00

There are times when agreement is important to move on. But sometimes agreeing is so not the point.

I had an interesting experience yesterday. A reader of this blog, asked me a question about the "Pay it Forward" blog that I wrote a couple of weeks ago. He was somewhat disturbed that I had not confronted the lady who had taken the dollar out of the cart. He asked me why I didn't stop her? I told him that I was already in my car and driving away when I realized what she had done. I also told him that I didn't want to judge her. That, in my mind, judging seemed about on par with what she was doing. I am very quick to judge and it is something that I would like to change about my soul. Yeah, I was upset with what had happened in that parking lot, but I needed to time for the more generous and kind Lisa to be able to be heard in my head and drown out the judgy, grumpy Lisa that often has free reign. This conversation yesterday didn't end with him agreeing with me. I don't think that was the point. He had questions and he wasn't afraid to ask them. That was amazing. Having this conversation gave me a great insight into what I believe this blog is really all about....I don't think I even really knew until yesterday.

I am not asking you to agree with what I write in this blog, though I think often I may be preaching to the choir. I am asking you to think about someone else's perspective, as the reader who approached me yesterday was doing. Ask questions. Ponder. Wrestle. Have conversations with other people about the things you are wrestling with. In these exercises, truth and soul wisdom are uncovered in each of us. It is what I do before I ever start typing the words on this page.

We are taught as children to play nice, to not ruffle feathers, and to not rock the boat. These sentiments, though well-meaning, are not the mindset of world changers. There is an underpinning of appeasing the status quo in these thoughts that results in stoic and often pious mediocrity. I have come to see that agreement is not the goal. Seeking Truth is. Therefore, don't simply nod your head in agreement and take your daily dose of whatever it is that you read or watch or listen to. Think, respond, feel your heart beat with passion or disdain or even anger. Engage your soul. If you disagree, say so. You don't have to be confrontational or rude about it, but don't let your soul die for the sake of a flimsy attempt at peace. If you have questions, ask them. If you are sparked with a fire in your belly, use that passion to do something, anything. This is just another way of paying it forward.

Chopin Challenge

2011-04-21T08:33:00.000-07:00

One thing that I truly love is playing the piano. It's been therapy for me since I was young. My mom once said that she could always tell when I had been through the wringer, I wouldn't talk, I would just go and sit at the piano and play for as long as it took to regain peace of mind. Recently, I have again found solace in playing. A couple months ago, I started teaching a grade eight piano student. I was feeling very challenged to teach at that level. I decided to break out my old classical books and start playing again. It has been wonderful. Not only do I get to play beautiful music, I feel like I have something to offer my student as well. Playing myself seems to sharpen my awareness when it comes to teaching.

One of the pieces that I've been in love with for a long time is called Prelude in D Flat by Frederic Chopin. The piece also has a nickname, Raindrop. If you've ever heard the song, the raindrop is undeniable. It is one note played throughout almost the entire song. It's beautiful and haunting. I always thought that somehow this piece was beyond my reach, way too difficult for me to learn. Well, let's just say, I've tackled it! It feels so amazing to sit and play this song in my house, filling the rooms with raindrops. I didn't take on this challenge for anyone but myself, to prove that I can do it. I have it in me to work hard at something and see it through to the end. Practicing takes work and discipline. Two things that I seem to need right now.

I've been thinking a lot about practicing and how it's something we should never stop doing. Whatever you're into, there will never be a point when you have arrived and have nothing left to learn. The old adage that practice makes perfect has a flaw...perfection says that you have achieved the ultimate and you can quit. I don't buy this for a second because I know that I will always have something to work on in terms of technique and repertoire. I think about the time when eventually I will be asking my own kids to practice the piano or the guitar or free throws or whatever. I need them to have an example of what that looks like. If they have never seen me practice anything, where is the credibility in what I am asking them to do? So, turn off the TV. Pick up your paint brush, your cello, your badminton racket, or your soccer ball and practice. Make dates with the important people in your life and practice relationship. Love is a skill that will never be perfected. Don't ever quit.

Touch

2011-04-18T10:44:00.000-07:00

When I was eleven our family took a vacation to the west coast. We drove through the Canadian Rockies. It was the first time I ever remembered being in the mountains. A prairie girl used to wide open flatness with a few trees here and there, was dumbstruck by the awesomeness, the majesty, the beauty of the rugged peaks and winding highway through it all. My face was pressed up against the window for hours. We made it to the coast and had a lovely time. On our way back through the mountains, again the same feelings overwhelmed me. As we left the mountains behind, I remember feeling a sadness. Tears welled up and spilled over. I had been touched by something and it had left an impression on my soul. I knew I would miss the mountains as we headed back home.

This morning my parents drove out of my yard after having spent the weekend with our family. Elle sat on my lap as we watched them drive away and her tears fell. They are special people to her. They have touched her little soul with their love. I knew what she was feeling. The sense of loss and sadness that happens when you have been touched and you don't want to let go.

Many things in life can touch us. I have been touched by a piece of music many times. I can never really explain why if someone asks, it just speaks to something inside of me that longs for beauty and love. I guess it speaks to a longing for things to be right and good. Babies have the same effect. Holding them, looking into their sleepy faces, having their tiny hands wrap around a finger touches something deep inside. Nature speaks to me too. Sunrises, thunder storms, the stillness in the middle of a forest, the spicy smell of damp foliage, the intricacy of tiny wild flowers, waves crashing, and starry nights all reach into my heart and pull at the same longing. Watching people take care of others is one thing that gets me every time. I think it's because that might be our purpose. When I watched my parents and my kids spend time together this weekend it made my heart sing. When I see Elle take care of Coen and look out for him, I see love and compassion. When I get to hold people that I love close when they hurt, I feel alive and this overwhelms my heart.

This is one way that we can catch a glimpse of the Divine. He wants to touch us. He wants us to connect those moments to Himself. Those moments when our souls feel awakened are the moments when we can know for sure that God is close. He's letting us in on a secret....

Whatever

2011-04-13T19:29:00.000-07:00

Whatever. It's a word that I use a lot. It means a lot of things to me, I guess. It's a non-committal word at times. It can also mean that I don't care. It is sometimes said with a certain tone called frustration. It can be lighthearted and silly in some cases. Sometimes it just really means that my brain hurts and I'm tired of the conversation and it's seeming pointlessness. It means I give up!!

One word with so many nuances. At times saying "whatever" is a way to avoid being real and honest. At least it is for me. Now every one of you is scrolling back in your memories to see if I've ever said "whatever" to you and you're wondering what it meant. I'm going to be honest. It probably was my way of conceding and not really saying what I might be feeling on the inside.

We all have words like this, words we use to get around touchy subjects or things that we just can't face. Words like "whatever", "maybe", "I don't know", and "I'll see" are all words that hold uncertainty. They are usually also conversation killers. They are words that signal that the end is nigh. There will be no more information forthcoming. There will be no commitment. There will be no going deeper.

I sometimes imagine what it would be like if every person said what they really meant all the time. If people felt they could express their wishes, their desires, even their dislike in a way that was not grouchy or aggressive but in peace yet totally honest, I think relationships would be different. There wouldn't be the tip-toeing around certain topics or the feeling like you always have to hold yourself back for fear of what other people might think if you told it like it is. I would like to banish "whatever" from my vocabulary. I would like to say what I think and not feel like it's stupid. I would like to be able to say even challenging, hard-to-hear words with grace and kindness instead of fear. I would love it if people talked like that to me too. Imagine if parents, politicians, judges, lawyers, doctors, teachers, bankers, accountants, business people, and kids all felt they had freedom just to say what they were really thinking and were able to say them with love? Words are powerful. How do you use them?

P is for Phonics

2011-04-09T11:46:00.000-07:00

The English language is on fraught with many idiosincrisies and downright strangeness. There are so many words that seem to not fit any of the so-called rules. For the last few months Elle and I have been working in her reading. She's almost six and really wants to read. Trying to explain why words like pear, pair and pare all sound exactly the same but are spelled differently or why the word "are" is just weird and doesn't follow any rules seems like a lot for a little person to be able to grasp. Yet she remembers the rules and the exceptions to the rules and is succeeding with reading.

A couple years ago Jeremy and spent a winter taking Spanish lessons from our lovely friend from Argentina. It is such a fluid and beautiful language. The most amazing part about it is that every letter in the alphabet has one sound....one. That letter is always pronounced that one way regardless of where it appears in a word. Learning how to speak and spell in Spanish just makes sense. It is logical. The rules are straightforward and easy to apply.

I wish I could say that the rules for life were straightforward and easy to apply. I'm afraid that life is a lot more like English than Spanish. It's hard. You think you've learned something and that in every situation, you know what to do and then....bam, you're in the dust, on your face, the wind knocked out of you and you're struggling to pick yourself up and face the fact that you don't know everything; in fact closer to nothing!! I think life is more like English because life is about people. People don't fit into neat and tidy little packages that you can manipulate and they respond in the way that you desire. It just doesn't work like that. People are complex, intricate and complicated beings. We don't respond the same every time. We have moods, and feelings, and sugar-induced highs and lows. Our bodies have hormones and chemicals that give us energy and desires and drive. Our souls long for meaning and connection and destiny.

Learning to live with others and keep relationship with people is difficult. There is no formula. There are just suggestions. When someone is sad, offer comfort. When someone is laughing, join them. When someone needs help, help them. When someone is worried, listen. When someone is heartbroken, hold them. When someone is dreaming, spur them on. When someone has lost their voice, speak up on their behalf. When someone has open arms, run into them. You don't have to do any of these things. They are optional. For every person, these things look different, more like exceptions to the rule. The way that I offer comfort may look different than what you would do, but that is okay. Awesome, in fact...an expression of how we are all unique but still have the same desire to connect with others and to truly love.

Pay It Forward

2011-04-04T08:11:00.000-07:00

You know when you go to buy a cart at the grocery store and some lovely person has left their dollar in it, making that moment a bright spot in your day? That happened to me the last time I was at the grocery store. I had my dollar in hand and was ready to put it in the cart and realized that someone had left their dollar in it. I don't know if they forgot or if it was intentional but it put a smile on my face. The first thing I did was look around to see if someone was smiling, letting me know that they had planned this moment for someone, that they were paying it forward. I really like to think that the world is a nice place, that people really care about each other and are looking out for each other. I like to think that generosity and the brotherhood of man are principles that the world could live by. The concept of paying it forward is one that is both heart-warming and world-altering.

With these thoughts in mind, when I returned the cart to the parking lot I left the cart with the dollar in it for the next person. I was feeling great. I was paying it forward, I was doing the right thing. I noticed, as I was settling the kids in the car, that there was a lady sitting in the car right next to me, which was right next to where the carts are parked. I had noticed that she had been putting her groceries into her car as I was walking across the parking lot with the kids and our groceries. Now, she was just sitting there in her car. As I was backing out of my parking spot, I saw her get out of her car and go to the cart that I had just left there (with the dollar in it). She took it! I watched her hurry back to her car like she was trying to hide. I was at first stunned. Then, mad. She had busted up the pay it forward! Then I was bummed.

As I thought about it, I realized that I wanted the pay it forward to work the way I wanted it, on my terms. The lady, whom I had dubbed Ebenezer, had ruined it for the next person to receive a free cart. The one thing that I was overlooking was 'Ebenezer's' story, which I do not know. I was judging her for what I thought was a tragic breakdown in paying it forward. She broke the cycle. But did she? Maybe she really needed that dollar. I have no way of knowing. It wasn't even my dollar to begin with. I realized something important about paying it forward, when you add judgment to the equation, it takes away the meaning and purpose of the whole thing.

I hope that someday 'Ebenezer' is truly affected by someone paying it forward. I hope it takes her breath away that someone cares about her. I hope she is speechless in that moment and that tears well up in her eyes. I hope that the first thought in her mind at that moment is how she could do the same for someone else and then pays it forward.

Dailiness

2011-03-29T16:09:00.000-07:00

dishes
laundry
tidy
meals
make bed
tidy
feed the dog
crowd control
practice piano
tidy
do song and dance for little people
sweep the floor
tidy again
get Elle on the bus
maybe read a book
maybe write something besides a grocery list
maybe talk to mom on the phone
tidy some more (without eye rolling)
maybe cuddle with my husband
maybe have a friend for tea

This is the outline of my dailiness.

The "dailiness" doesn't leave a lot of room for awe, but I try to see it. I try to laugh. I try to appreciate the little things. I look for Hope in the everyday connections with people. I try to see beauty in the world. I try to hear it in a song. I try to smell it in the breeze. There are amazing things to experience in the middle of the dailiness. Grilled cheese sandwiches shared with the people that you love somehow taste like something from a gourmet kitchen. Conversations about the "whys" of life with an inquiring five-year-old that make you see things from a different perspective or make you ask your own "whys". Sloppy kisses and outside smelling hugs from busy little boys that warm up your worn-out and tired heart. Belly-laughing with your best friend until your stomach hurts and your face aches can only happen in the middle of dailiness. Dailiness is devastatingly funny sometimes, especially after the third glass of spilled milk in one meal. You really feel like crying but it is too funny, too heart-breaking, and too incredible to do anything but laugh until you can't anymore.

I sometimes long for more than dailiness, but often realize that in the middle of dailiness I feel the most love, I get to be with the people that have blessed my life the most. I am grateful for the bright spots that are my dailiness. I cherish my dailiness, what would life be without it?

Half Full

2011-03-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

I hate to be one of those people that talks about the weather, but I've always kind of been intrigued by it. As a kid I remember when a thunderstorm was brewing, my Dad and I would pull out the lawn chairs, open up the garage door and watch as the storm unfolded in all it's glory. I think we were always hoping for a tornado to appear right before our eyes. It never happened but we did witness some amazing weather!

This week has been a week of weather here in northern Alberta. I can't really call it amazing or shocking, it's been more of an annoyance. On Sunday the calendar proclaimed the first day of spring. Elle was so disappointed that there was no grass or flowers or mud puddles appearing since it actually was the first day of spring. In her mind, if the calendar said it, it should happen. After all, birthdays, Christmas, and Valentine's Day do in fact happen on the actual day. To be honest, I would have been quite happy with that as well. Instead we have had a week of wet, sticky snow that has been blowing into drifts, making roads treacherous and impassable. Welcome to SPRING!!

So, eyes have been looking at the skies. Lips have been proclaiming disgust. Weather reports have been deemed ridiculous and the groundhog has been cursed in every language known to man. Once again, our plans have been foiled. Winter still has it's icy grip on our landscapes. But alas, spring will come. It always does.

The snow will melt and run to fill creeks and streams. Murky puddles and full rubber boots are coming soon.The grass will make an appearance. The drop sheet of white will be thrown back to reveal the palette of spring; soft leaf green, pussy willow grey, mud puddle brown, daffodil yellow, crocus lavender, robin breast orange, apple blossom pink and ear ache sky blue. It is coming, I promise.

On this wintry spring day breathe deeply the scent of winter's eleventh hour. Wait with anticipation the rebirth of our world. It's almost here....

Souls

2011-03-21T09:03:00.000-07:00

For today's post I thought I would share some song lyrics that I've been working on. I wish I had the smarts to actually get the song on here somehow, that would be cool. Maybe that should be the next thing that I learn how to do. Anyway, this song is about how love changes. In the beginning, love is exciting and you feel floaty and ecstatic that love has found you. Years go by and love gets into a routine and sometimes a rut. You have to work at love to keep it. It's worth it too. I want to have an epic love story. I'm not just talking about romantic feelings either. I'm talking about respect, care, concern, thoughtfulness and perseverance to make it through the times when the "feelings" of love are not so prevalent. This is epic to me. It's a love that my kids learn by seeing it in action. It is a love that is passed down and passed on. It's what these lyrics are about....

Do you remember at hello

Hello, hello

How simple life could flow
At how moments spent in silence
Held an intense undertone
When fingers intertwined
And faces said it all
When emotion spoke much louder
Than all I can recall

We were souls bound for connection
We needed no direction
Surging past introduction
Swept away

With calendars discarded
Goodbye, goodbye
Time has brought us here
I still hold your heart
With trembling and fear
On this side of forever
The stakes are higher still
There's an ever growing dimension

Of love that we can fill

We are souls bound for connection

Needing no direction

We're surging past introduction

Swept away

Dreams have bled intensity

We push passed mediocrity

And kindle creativity

So we can love passionately....

Heroes

2011-03-16T08:04:00.000-07:00

For the past six years, I've been teaching a class called Heroes to junior high school students in two schools.
It's a class that mines out the strengths of young people and encourages them to make positive choices with the rest of their lives in mind. I have learned so much over the years, probably more than any kid that has ever gone through the class. I find that to teach the class with passion and conviction, you really need to be struggling with your own issues and always becoming more of hero everyday. I fail miserably, but I keep trying and I keep teaching.

Last week I started the follow-up program with 26 grade nine students. It's called H2. The premise of the follow-up program is to practice being a hero. Using the gifts and abilities that they discovered in Heroes to make a difference in the world around them. There are future leaders, farmers, teachers, artists, doctors, and parents in my class. Every week as I look into the eyes of these kids, I see their doubt. I see their pain. I see their fatigue. I see their desire for something more. My plan is always to speak to that and to breathe life into souls that have lost their sparkle. My favorite part of teaching is when I see the eyes of one of my students getting it. The moment that the light bulb goes on and they realize that their life has a purpose and that they were made uniquely to impact the world around them.

There are many layers to peel back. These kids face insecurities, fears, anger, circumstances beyond their control, pain, criticism, abuse, loneliness, and the belief that they couldn't possibly have a different life. They don't even want to believe that what I am encouraging them to do is possible. Every one of us has these layers that hide our hearts and keep us from living like heroes. We can deal with the all the layers that cover our true selves by believing that those things have power over us and keep us locked up, or we can start practicing to live our life in a different way. When we start to live our lives with the principles of loyalty, honesty, generosity, kindness, justice, courage, perseverance, and love guiding our thoughts and our actions, the world becomes better. The lives of kids who have been told since they were little that they are useless pieces of skin are given the tools to conquer those crushing words and live with impact and purpose in the world around them. THAT makes me smile.

Each of you is a hero to someone. Use your words and your actions to breathe life into others. The world is desperate for heroes like you.....

Sweater

2011-03-12T08:28:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday, I had a day to myself. Jeremy was hanging out with the kids so I took off to the city. I had some things to do, but I also just wanted to have some chill time. It's been a busy last couple of months and I was feeling the need to be quiet. That's what I love about going to the city. You only have to talk if you choose to. What I found in most of the places that I went into is that most people who work in retail would rather not to talk to you either. I don't really understand this but I was okay with it on that day. Silence was what I was needing.

My last stop before coming home was the Costco run. There are a few staple items for the pantry that I like to pick up there. While I was there, I noticed a lovely red sweater. It was cozy and fit perfectly. I added it to my staples in the cart. I like to get in and out of Costco as quickly as possible, I'm a list person and I usually stick with list, except for the sweater I was doing great. I stood in the long Saturday check-out line and was out of there without to much pain. I grabbed a coffee for the drive home and pointed my car in that direction.

It wasn't until I was unpacking the car at home that I missed the sweater. I looked everywhere for it. I realized I must have left it in the cart in the Costco parking lot. Sounds exactly like something that I would do. You may recall my purse fiasco of some months ago. The thoughts that came to mind after a brief episode of the "Aww Shucks!" was that I bought the universe a sweater. That made me smile. I hope that someone out there finds it and it makes their day. I hope that red is the favorite color of the person that finds it. I hope that my sweater is exactly what the person needed on that day. I hope that my sweater keeps someone warm and cozy for the rest of this crazy winter that we've been having. I hope my sweater travels to places that I've never been. I hope my sweater gets passed on and shared as it has been from the moment of purchase. I was actually happier that I didn't have it than if I was wearing it. It's funny how perspective can do that.

I found out recently that my four-year-old niece, Lylia, has two dolls that she has dubbed 'Loose' and 'Loosen' Up'. When I heard this I had to laugh. I think she is trying to tell the world something. Don't let things get you all tied up in a knot. Stay loose. If you're uptight, loosen' up and buy the universe a sweater!

Lemons

2011-03-04T15:37:00.000-08:00

At lunch today, we were talking about Elle's birthday which is coming up in April. I asked her what she would like to do. It took her about two seconds to respond with, "I would like for us all to go to Mexico." I'm not sure where that came from or why that is something that she would like to do, but it is obviously something she thinks would be fun. I think it would be fun too, but I know that we will not be going to Mexico for her 6th birthday!

This conversation got me thinking about how often the things we really would like to do, our dreams, often bump into reality. I had to break the news to Elle that we would not be going Mexico for her birthday, but that we could have a Mexican party instead. When I said the word pinata, her eyes got big! Her dream might not happen but there are other options that are doable. The reality is that we cannot go to Mexico. So often, we get stuck or obsess about a dream that isn't happening the way we want it too. We pout, we complain, and we agonize over our discontent with how things are turning out in our lives. We think that everything about life should be as we want it....now. I'm not completely sure why we feel this sense of entitlement, but it really can mess you up.

I read something awhile ago about the people that are most content in the whole world. They are Danish, not the pastry, just to clarify. The Danes have learned a secret about contentment. It's to expect nothing. Their contentment is based on the premise that if you expect nothing, anything good that comes along is bonus. If you expect nothing, you won't be disappointed. I'm not saying that this is the way to live; without expectations. But I think it may have some merit with a few tweaks. I think it may come down to what kind of expectations you have. This may seem harsh but here's what I think...expect to fail. Expect that life will be difficult. Expect that you will feel pain. Expect that life will not look like a fairy tale Disney flick. Expect that life will not always go as you plan it. Expect that in the middle of all of life's messes there is HOPE. I have been learning that hope comes in the form of God. In the middle of the mess, I am not alone, He's there. I have been expecting to meet Him in the messes that life brings. It's where He wants to meet me. I cannot promise that all your dreams will come true, it's not a reality in any one's life that I know of. It's in the mess where we learn truths about ourselves and about God. I say bring on the mess!

I am not a "glass-half-empty" kind of girl, though it may seem so today, but I do think that I am beginning to be able to see a reality that is more in focus. I expect that a lot of you will have issues with this post, because it is not what you usually hear about dreams and life. It's not about making lemonade when life hands you lemons. That's just another way for you to control the mess. It's about handing the lemons to a God that cares and wants you to know Him and trust Him with your lemons. I truly believe that the best life we can have is when we meet God in the messes that life will bring.

Babies

2011-02-26T09:51:00.000-08:00

This week has been a baby boom in our family. I have two new nephews and no they are not twins. Born two days apart, I imagine the trouble that two little boys growing up together will be able to think of, especially when they are guided by their older cousin, Coen! It is so exciting to welcome new life into the world. Jeremy was singing a song at breakfast the other morning by the Beach Boys..."God only knows where I would be without you....". These lyrics prompted me to look around my table of toast munchers and ask that question to myself. Where would I be without these amazing people a part of my life?

I know as a new mother, I could sit for hours just holding my sweet little baby and I almost couldn't remember how my life was before I had them in my arms. I almost didn't want to. The change that is wrought in your heart when your flesh and blood takes their first breath is life altering. There is a fierceness that comes to the surface when it comes to protecting them. A tenderness in every touch. An ache when you think about all the things that your baby will have to learn the hard way. A pain in your soul when you think about the pain that they will experience in their lives. An overwhelming sense that there is no possible way for you to get this whole parenting thing right. And dreams. Dreams of the kind of person your little person will become.

Babies are remarkable in that they shake up the worlds of parents who have never had to take care of anyone but themselves. A tiny bundle of dependency. They need you for everything. Babies make better people out of their parents. I can say that with some backing. It has happened to me.

I know that Levi and Will are going to bring much joy, blessing and heartache to lives of their parents, it's inevitable. For my brothers and sisters-in-law I pray much love, wisdom, and joy as you venture out on the road of parenting. You will all be amazing parents! You have had incredible examples in your own parents. I look forward to getting to know my two new nephews. You are loved little ones.....and welcome to the world!

100 Followers....

2011-02-24T12:21:00.000-08:00

A milestone in my blogging has occurred. I have 100 followers!!! I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that anyone besides my mom would want to read what I have spewed forth from my brain, and I want to take this opportunity to thank you. THANK YOU! In honor of this momentous occasion, I have made a few changes to this page. I hope you likey! Other than a new header, some different colors, and fonts, there is something fun you can all try out after you read the blog. After each post there is a spot to post your reactions. You get to decide if the post was funny, interesting, or inspiring... so fun, I know! I would love to hear from you as well! Your comments are always welcome. Thanks again for seeinglisawrite! Peace...

Control Issues....

2011-02-23T09:20:00.000-08:00

So, I have my computer back from the doc. It is still being tempermental....things have changed between us. I just can't have the same amount of trust that I used to have. I find my heart pumping as I wait for pages to open, hoping that what I want to happen, does in fact happen, without hassels!!! The last few weeks have been about control issues for me. I have realized that I am really not in control of anything and that has made me try even harder to control the things that I think need controlling... like my computer (with it's many issues), my car that spins on ice all by itself, and my three-year-old who has started to have attitude. Fun times have been had in my world.

Somehow I have duped myself for a really long time thinking that I do in fact reign supreme in my world. I felt like I had a handle on things and I could sway and manipulate the outcomes, every time. Wrong! The world spins around and around. Gravity holds my feet on the floor without asking my permission. My heart pumps blood to my veins until someday, unbeknownst to me, it will stop. I am not in control. Letting go of the idea that I am has produced some headaches, some melancholy, and some peace.

My initial desire was to fight, to try harder to keep everything running smoothly, micro-managing people, schedules, even inanimate objests and then having tantrums when things didn't go my way. I ended up with some doozie migraines. Not worth it, I realized. The melancholy was a result of realizing all the stress that I have been carrying around has been for nothing! In the end, peace has been the outcome. When I can let the computer and the car just do what they do and resist having a freak, peace reigns. I can't, in fact, do everything! Being okay with that little tidbit is going to be a daily struggle for the rest of my life, but knowing that there is peace waiting on the other side inviting me to come and chill out is a beautiful thought. It beckons me. I hope that in the midst of the chaos that is called life, you can hear Peace calling to you too.

Virus

2011-02-10T10:51:00.000-08:00

So, last week my computer literally started screaming at me saying that it had a virus. Boy, did it ever. Twenty five of them. It is out of commission. I have been longing to blog so here I am "borrowing" a computer so I can get some stuff out of my head and out into the great beyond...cyberworld? Anyway, I think that today this may be more of a confessional than anything else.

I have a virus too. It's called selfishness. It's a nasty one, because it takes a lot of work to get rid of it entirely. It's deadly because I like it. I rarely think about the potential side effects of selfishness, but they are far reaching and brutal, breeding more of the same. I was born with this virus. It is in every cell of who I am. It feeds my desire to take care of my needs at any cost. It keeps me isolated and stuck. It binds my hands when I see other people with needs because I have to think about myself first. It builds a wall around my soul that keeps me numb to compassion. It eats at my time, energy and resources until I am locked up tight in a drama of my own life.

The cure for selfishness seems simple enough... but until you actually try to use the cure, you don't even know how badly you have the selfish virus. The cure is pure love. Love is always an affront to selfishness. They are enemies. The very fibres that make up love are the antithesis of selfishness. Those fibres are giving without strings attached, compassion, and selflessness. I have a picture in my mind of what I want from love and it is usually all about my needs. A little secret...this is not love. This is selfishness. When I place my need for love, how I want it, above the love that I could give away instead, the virus has the upper hand. I am manipulating the antidote and not allowing it to work. I am dying inside and sometimes I can't even feel it. When I do, by some miracle, feel my heart breaking for someone else and I long to help or to change a situation, I know that true and pure love is fighting for supremacy in my soul. I want to be cured. I want love to win. Am I willing to let love kill selfishness in my soul?

I never leave home without...

2011-02-01T08:13:00.000-08:00

Deodorant.

(Seriously, the worst job on the planet.....smelling other people's underarms!!)

I don't know when I started taking deodorant with me wherever I go, but I do know that it has saved me time and again from inflicting upon the world some funky smells. It has also been a somewhat humorous "Seinfeldish" moment when I have been asked to lend my deodorant to smelly friends! Apparently the world does know that I have a problem and they know where to go when they need some help! Lisa's deodorant to the rescue!

This is a somewhat indelicate topic, one that a lady would never venture to write about, but I write with purpose. Spontaneity is something I'm not very good at. I plan to smell and I am prepared, in the aftermath, to fix the offending odours. Jeremy told me this morning that I hate it when my plans change. While he was relaying this tragic news to me, of course I couldn't really hear what he was saying because I couldn't believe that I was so immovable. I thought I was spontaneous and full of adventure. But after he left for work, I tried to find the truth in what he was saying. He was right. I like to have a plan. I like to have my day mapped out. I like to know what's coming. When I go somewhere, I have a list of things to do and a general time frame as to when I am going to do them. I carry deodorant in my purse!! I don't leave a lot of room for surprises or fun, so it seems!
I think this all may have started when I had kids. A few weeks after Elle was born, Jeremy and I were in town one afternoon with our sweet little girl. Being a new mom, I hadn't really thought about all the things that could happen while we were in town. I took a couple of diapers and a few wipes never thinking to bring extra clothes for a newborn. As it turns out, we needed more than clothes for a newborn. I needed them too. Elle and I were sitting in the car waiting for Jeremy to come out of a store. I had just finished nursing her and she was laying in my arms. Then....she exploded! Her diaper, that is! It was everywhere. She was wearing a onesie, little pants, a sweater and socks. Everything but the sweater was beyond salvaging. I remember trying to take the little onesie off, over her head without getting nastiness in her hair! Of course, there were not enough wipes in the entire world to clean up the mess. She was crying, we were both covered in poo and I was making a mental list. 1. Always have ridiculous amounts of wipes at your disposal at any given minute. 2. Always have extra clothes for the baby and for myself. 3. Puke and poo will happen, be prepared! So, I started hauling this absurdly huge diaper bag around, stuffed to the gills with anything and everything I could think of to put in it...just in case.

Long after the diaper bag has been banished, I still plan ahead. I still like to have a plan. I know where all the bathrooms are located from here to Saskatchewan and which ones are the cleanest! We have had adventures, if you could call them that, when things went utterly wrong....like two flat tires on the same hot summer day, plus getting pulled over by the cops, which I can laugh about now, but at the time felt like disaster. I guess that is maybe God's way of teaching me flexibility. Throw things in my path that I cannot possibly handle or plan for and see what it means to really trust......and laugh at how not spontaneous I really am.

Avoidance

2011-01-28T08:54:00.000-08:00

There are a few household duties that I avoid and put off until they seem to loom so large in the corner of my eye that they become the hugest and most awful task in the entire world. Cleaning the cabinet under the kitchen sink is one of them. Our garbage can and our compost pail are under the sink and sometimes things don't quite end up in the proper spots, if you know what I mean?! Over time, all the things that miss the garbage can or the compost bucket really build up and it gets really disgusting under there. Cleaning under the sink never makes it on my to do list somehow and it gets worse and worse. Yesterday, the mess was conquered. I donned the rubber gloves and went at it! In all it took me about fifteen minutes and the job that I was dreading wasn't nearly as awful as I anticipated. Even washing out the garbage can, without gagging, went without a hitch.

I learned something yesterday. The things that my mind blows out of proportion and that I avoid, really aren't as big of a deal as I think they are. This lesson applies to more than just cleaning. There are other things that I avoid in life too; apologizing to someone that I have mistreated, being available to people and causes that could use my help, one-sided relationships with people where all the work is on my side, being totally honest with people when they ask my thoughts or opinions on things, exercising faithfully, and making the dreaded phone calls! Most of the things that I avoid are asking me to step up and grow up and be dedicated and committed to something great. I know that in doing the things that I avoid, I will become something better. My mind still makes the excuses and tells me to keep avoiding. It whispers, "It's too hard. You'll look like an idiot. Why me? Who cares? What difference does it make? Lisa, you're weird!". I think maybe the whispers want me to lose and to stay stuck where I'm at. The evidence goes back to my job of yesterday. Once, I got to work and did the task, it wasn't so bad, it even spurred me on to scrub the floor, clean the toilet and wash the windows! I have a cleaner house today because I started with one dreaded task.

If I faced my avoidance list head on and began to do the things that I truly put off, I would be better. There wouldn't be so much drama in my mind. I would likely sleep better at night. I wouldn't stress about things that really aren't stressful, if I'm honest. I would have better relationships. I'd be growing up...all these musings because I cleaned under my sink!

Monkey Bars

2011-01-24T10:29:00.000-08:00

Hanging upside down.

Blood rushing to my head.

Laughing and talking to my friend.

Recess spent swinging from bar to bar.
Looking up at the towering tangle of yellow, green and red metal inspired awe and a sense of danger.
The heights.
The cold sting of steel on warm hands.
I conquered my fears as I climbed and reached, seemingly, beyond my grasp.

Discovering that I could swing backwards into oblivion and that my legs, looped around the bar, would keep me from hitting the hard earth below was a wonder.

I learned the inevitability of "what goes up, must come down"...the hard way, as every child does, climbing on the monkey bars.

Gravity is rarely a friend.

The Art of the Phone Call

2011-01-19T21:42:00.000-08:00

Dear People of the World, (whom I have neglected to phone)

Does anyone out there hate phoning people as much as I do? As of today, I have a list of about five people that I have to phone for a meeting and I have been rehearsing in my mind what I'm going to say. So, I put it off and get more tense (I'm hoping that writing about my fear may give me courage). Just to be clear I don't dislike the people that I have to phone, I dislike the actual physical act of phoning. The phoning didn't start off well this evening either. Of course, I phoned the wrong number. (That seems to be the way it goes with me.) Am I the only idiot out there that feels like I get tongue tied and nervous before I even start dialing? If I could write people short notes and have them hand delivered by my own personal servant, I would do much better. I think I may have been born in the wrong century. Writing seems to be so natural to me, while talking about the details of things in a coherent and concise manner seems to escape my capabilities. Some of you out there may have noticed....I must say that I'm not sure I can be a grown-up about this.

Over the years Jeremy has tried to help me get over my fear of phoning people, by getting me to do some of his phoning. He has been very encouraging, but to no avail. It still is not something that I anticipate with any measure of excitement. Phone in hand, I always feel that my words come out wrong or I forget to say something that I was supposed to and have to phone all over again. Ah, the vicious cycle. I feel sometimes as though the "real" Lisa has been hand cuffed and my arch nemesis has ripped the phone from my hands. It's really too bad that my arch nemesis is also myself.

I'm not sure if there is reformation for my problem on the horizon. I don't know if I can be fixed or if my phone phobia will ever cease to be an anxiety to me, so until then, I'll call when you're out and leave a message on your voice mail.

P.S. I really do like you and if I have ever phoned you and you have been completely stupefied by something I've said, I apologize.

Snow

2011-01-15T09:26:00.000-08:00

This is the view outside my window as I write this morning.

The snow just keeps falling...

It hasn't really stopped for a long while.

It's hauntingly silent as it reshapes the landscape.

You would think that the transformation would be obnoxiously loud and forceful because of the effect, but it's not.

Tiny, intricate crystals float out of the sky and remake our world, softening lines, painting over the harsh browns and greys of fields and forests with infinite shades of white.

The beauty of this drama unfolds unobtrusively and without fanfare, beckoning us to watch and be taught in the mesmerizing stillness of falling snow.

Corners

2011-01-09T23:51:00.000-08:00

A couple months ago, I started short track speed skating. In the short time that I've been doing it, I have learned a few things, and they're mostly about corners, since that is what you do, when you skate the short track. First, corners come quickly. Second, much skill is needed to manoeuvre around a corner smoothly and quickly. Third, it's all about the corners!

Last Sunday I was skating on an outdoor rink and on one of these corners, my skate caught an edge and I fell. Hard. Without any dignity or gracefulness. I wish that I could of seen the whole thing in slow motion, I think it would have made my heart stop. One moment, I was skating, crossing over around the corner, the next moment my legs were going in different directions and I was landing hard on my left knee, then I was flipping onto my back....like I said, really graceful. The nasty bruise on my knee and half way down my shin is a testament to how unforgiving ice can be. I got up, and tried to skate a few more laps, but the fear of the infamous corner slowed me down as well as the throbbing in my knee.

I find it funny how falling can really mess you up in your mind. 'Cause really that's where fear starts. Brains are notorious for sending your body messages when you're afraid. Some people start shaking, others feel the need to scream, some people hyperventilate, some have the flight instinct and run in the opposite direction, still others wet their pants (I had to throw that one in there!). For me, fear shut me down. My body seemed so lethargic and useless after my tumble. I just couldn't get up the energy to skate that corner with confidence again.

In life, I have come to expect corners too. Corners are the turns that life takes, sometimes without any warning. It's interesting how I still think that corners are a distraction from life and I sometimes fear them, when really they are life. What I mean is that things like accidents, sickness, relational issues, financial struggles, job challenges, parenting crisis, and making choices that affect the future, are everyday things. They are corners, but they have significance because they take you somewhere. Corners are reality. They shape you and mold you. If I expect corners and know how to handle myself in them, they doesn't seem so scary. Even if you fall and mess up big time, you know that there is another one coming and you get to try again. Yeah, some corners are painful and you have the bruises to show for them, get up, take it slow and try again. There's something to learn in every corner...at least that's what my skates have been telling me.

In a Yellow Cab - Part Four

2011-01-05T08:41:00.000-08:00

Sam suddenly feels overwhelmed, by this day. This unexpected encounter. This hope that is being offered, when he feels so undeserving. As his thoughts steamroll through his mind, Allie breaks the silence. “Sam, I want you to come home. I want to figure out this whole thing called life with you. I am sorry too. I let my own grief overshadow yours, that was selfish. I let you down too. This isn’t just about you leaving. I had thought about it too, to be honest. I thought things would get better all by themselves. You know, with time. I have come to realize over the past few months that I couldn’t blame you for disappearing. It was what happened over time when we didn’t talk, when we didn’t share our ache with each other.” Allie pauses and lifts her other hand to Sam’s face, drying the wetness with her warm palm.

“Will you come home?” Do you think we can start over? This baby needs two parents.” To punctuate this statement, the baby kicks again against their hands. Allie’s face seems paralyzed in a grimace of pain all of the sudden. Sam watches as she leans forward slightly and breathes out slowly. She turns her face towards him and smiles weakly. “I think maybe we should make our way to the hospital. Our baby is about to make it’s appearance.” Sam, suddenly energized yells to the cab driver the change in plans, “My wife is having our baby!”

At the next intersection, the cab driver turns left and heads in the direction of the closest hospital. Sam reaches over and grabs hold of Allie’s hand. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together.” Allie squeezes his hand as another vice-like grip clamps down on her stomach. They ride in silence, each lost in thoughts of what is about to happen.

As the hospital comes into view, Sam wonders at how his day has taken this turn. His plans were to go home and warm up a leftover supper alone followed by work that he had taken home from the office. Now, here he is with his estranged wife, who is about to give birth to their child. He can hardly contain the smile that spreads over his face. He never thought any of this was possible. He is not so naive to think that there are not hard things ahead, many unsaid things that still need to be talked through, but it feels like a new start, one that he doesn’t feel he deserves. The cab stops and he hands the driver a fist full of bills. He jumps out and runs around to Allie’s side to help her out of the back seat. They walk slowly into the hospital. He looks down as is his habit. He stares at his worn shoes and decides that the first thing he’s going to do tomorrow is get a new pair for a new start. His heart feels light and buoyant as he again is hit with this second chance. A second chance with his wife. A second chance to be a dad.

----------------------------------------------------------

As he walks into the hospital the next day, his feet are on air. His new shoes are already old friends. He does not look down this day. There are more important things than his shoes, like his brand new son. Aric Samuel was born at 8:34 last night. His wife glowed, their baby in her arms. It is picture that will forever be engraved on his memory. He smiles to himself at the feel of the tiny shoes that he holds in his hand. He never thought he would be able to hold them in his hands and feel joy, but today it just seems right. The brown suede feels so soft and comforting as he rubs his finger back and forth over the top of the small shoe, something he has done many times. He wishes that Claire was walking beside him right now, holding his hand going to meet her little brother for the first time. But as he holds the tiny shoes that were once on her feet, he feels like somehow she is watching this scene, wishing that she was there too.

A Mentor

2010-12-21T09:56:00.000-08:00

I know that I promised the conclusion to the short story and you are all waiting so patiently but I have to interrupt today to share part of my story, actually a very special person in my story. About a year ago, a friend of mine came over for supper one night. I had been thinking about her a lot and had really felt like I had to ask her something. For a long time, I had been watching her. I watched how she spoke about others, how she treated people, how she made time for people, how she was not afraid to take on challenges, how her life reflected her faith, how she raised her children, how she taught, and how she handled the struggles of life. In all this watching, I realized that she was someone that I would like to have mentor me. That night that she came over for supper, I was going to ask her if she would become a mentor to me. I felt like I needed guidance and the strength of another woman to help me with my faith and to keep me accountable to how I wanted to live out my life. Her example inspired me. Here was someone who I knew would be honest with me, ask me hard questions, and love me no matter what.

Well, needless to say, I never asked her. She came that night in pain. She had just been at the physiotherapist because she had very intense pain in her lower back and wanted some relief from it. As we ate supper that night, I watched her some more. As we talked and laughed, I could tell she was uncomfortable but she was enjoying the moment and wanted to be with us despite her aching back. She shifted restlessly throughout supper and dessert, trying to find a comfortable position. I knew that I couldn't ask her my question at that time and silently prayed that she would get better. Hoping that a time would come when I could.

A week or two later she was diagnosed with cancer. The pain in her back was a tumor. My heart broke. My question remained unasked. Over the next months I spent time with her, watching, listening, and noticing. She smiled, she wept, she listened, she shared her journey, she remained steadfast in her faith, she created memories with the special people in her life, she studied the scriptures, she showed all those around her that hope is only found in loving Jesus, even in the darkest of days.

A couple months ago, I thought about my question. I realized that I didn't really need to ask it anymore. She had been showing me everything that I needed to know. Her life, her story, her faith were a living example to me. She had been mentoring me all along. Her life was impacting my own. Through her struggles and her battle with cancer, she modeled to me that life is about living. Life is about the moments that you spend with the ones you love. It's about impacting others in small but life changing ways. It's about being who God made you to be and knowing that He loves you immensely. It's about laughing and crying and feeling. It's about speaking words of love in truth and honesty. It's about letting the people that you love, know that they are special to you.

Yesterday, I watched as my mentor, my friend, was lowered into the ground. The ache in my heart will be there for a long time. It is hard to say good bye to people that you love. I look forward to the day when we can sit and talk and laugh again and share together our stories of lives lived loving God and loving others.

Thank you, my mentor. You will forever be in my heart, Joanne Grace.

In a Yellow Cab - Part Three

2010-12-10T15:05:00.000-08:00

Breaking the silence she started to speak, “Sam, I have....I have something that I need to tell you.” The invisible string pulled his head down again and he began tracing the crease of his pants with his index finger. “I didn’t know where you were these past eight months. I couldn’t find your phone number anywhere, I called your work and they said you had quit. They said that and were working somewhere else. Your email address didn’t work. None of your friends, not even your parents, knew where you were. I had no link to you. Except....except the child that is growing inside me. It’s our baby, Sam...our baby.”

As she spoke in her gentle, non-accusing way, something broke inside of him, it was the invisible string snapping. The emotion, the grief, his desire to hide what he was really feeling had robbed him not only of his daughter, but his wife, and would continue to rob him if he didn’t grab a hold of the hope that was before him. His eyes, flooded with tears, could no longer focus on his hands. He lifted his head to meet her eyes. He still wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew that he had to try.

“I....I’m sorry,” he faltered briefly. Trying to dab uselessly at the wetness on his cheeks with his coat sleeve he continued, “I have so many regrets. I wish I had known how to deal with losing Claire. I wish that I had known how to share that with you. I know you needed me, but I just couldn’t find the words. I just couldn’t.” Her slight nod across the back seat says that she understands what he is saying. It encourages him to go on. “I left because every time I looked at you, I knew that I hadn’t just lost Claire...I had lost you too. That killed me inside. I didn’t feel like I could fix any of it, so I left. I thought you would be better off if I was gone.”

“It’s been hell, Allie. I have not spoken to anyone about more than details of my job, in months. I’ve never been so alone. Even after Claire died, it wasn’t like this. This is worse. It’s like the air just doesn’t have enough oxygen in it. It can’t sustain me. I feel like I’m constantly gasping to inhale. I’m like a balloon that is slowly being deflated. The worst part is knowing that I did it to myself.” His face crumples and looks like the deflated balloon he had just described as he places it in his hands and sighs. The tears still flow, he can’t seem to stop them.

Allie reaches for him, and awkwardly pulls him closer to her across the seat. She grabs his left hand and places it on her rounded belly. She places her own left hand on top of his and is silent. He looks into her eyes, searching. A moment later the little one stretches under the pressure of their hands. It’s as if he or she can sense that this moment holds a tangible uncertainty and is offering a gift of things to come, things that are certain. There is life. There is a future. There is hope.

(Stay tuned for the conclusion of the this story.....)

In a Yellow Cab - Part Two

2010-12-03T08:23:00.000-08:00

(Be sure to read Part One of this story if you missed it!!)

He saw pain in her eyes, that was familiar. But he could see something else. Something that had not been there for a long time. Could it be...hope? His eyes traveled to her left hand, to the place where he had put a ring on her finger seven years earlier. It was still there. He stared at the swelling bump that could only be a child growing inside of her and asked himself the question that he could not yet voice, “Could it be mine?”. He didn’t know the answer to that question. Would knowing bring him more pain?

It had been eight months since they had parted ways. After their sweet little Claire had died in her sleep at five months, their world had broken into a million pieces. Although she had not been in their lives but a brief moment, their daughter had been the light and the joy of their lives. The day that she left, she took light and joy with her. He could still feel her warm little body nestled on his chest, her soft, tiny hand wrapped around his little finger. He could still see her dimpled smiles and hear her happy shrieks in his mind. He savored the hours he had spent walking with her in the night, singing sweet lullabies in her ear. He longed for those quiet moments again, when he could love and be loved so simply. He would always grieve for all the things that they would never be able to do together, for all the moments of life that they could have shared as a family, gone forever.

Putting words together to share their loss had not been something either of them had strength to do. They drifted apart over the next year and a half, both locked inside their own grief and not knowing how to find solace in one another. They rarely held each other. When their eyes met across the dinner table, they quickly looked away to avoid seeing the ache mirrored in the other’s face. He would hear her sometimes in the night, crying softly into her pillow. He never knew what to do to comfort her. He could never say the words, “It will be alright.” Because they were words that he did not believe himself. He knew that he loved her, but he no longer knew how to show it. Part of his heart was numb to love. It was too painful to love, because love could be lost.

One morning he woke knowing that there was nothing left to say. All he packed were his clothes and a tiny pair of Claire’s shoes that he had bought her for her very first Christmas. He looked at his sleeping wife one last time and had left their apartment, closing the door softly behind him. He had not seen or heard from her in the past eight months, because he had disappeared. He thought of her when he thought of Claire, which was every moment. He had missed her. Looking at her now, he longed for her touch, something that used to be as natural as the air that he breathed. He wanted to reach out his hand and run his fingers through her silky hair but he had ruined all that. He had thought about calling her many times but could not bring himself to phone her and endure the screaming silence of their broken hearts. Yet, now, she sat across from him in the back seat of a cab, pregnant, and eyes searching his face for some sign of the man she used to know and love.

.....stay tuned for the next part of this story coming soon.....

A Short Story - Part One

2010-11-29T10:07:00.000-08:00

Here's the first installment of the short story I'm working on. Hope you get hooked.......

As he crossed the street, heading toward the yellow cab, his eyes never strayed from his shoes. He had every scuff and scratch memorized, down to the frayed strings along the inside sole of the right shoe, that showed the wear and tear of seven years. The brown leather shoes that molded to his feet were his only friends, his only comfort. For months now, his eyes had been trained to see only his shoes. The sun shone down brilliantly in the sapphire sky, but he never noticed it. It was too joyous, too much a reminder that time had marched on. The heaviness of his life was like a string tied around his forehead that pulled his head down, giving him an ache that traced all along his spine, pinching muscles and tying knots. He knew that he was unable to change it. This was his life now, without her, without hope.

He opened the rear driver’s side door of the cab and climbed inside, throwing his briefcase onto the seat beside him. His eyes returned to his shoes as he mumbled his address to the cab driver. He vaguely heard the other passenger door open at the same moment. He turned his eyes, head still down, to notice the backside of a person entering the cab. What seemed like an eternity passed until the other car door was pulled shut, he could not seem to pry open his own mouth to say that the cab was occupied. He kept his eyes down. He heard a sharp intake of breath as the woman beside him realized there was already a passenger in the cab.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” she said somewhat out of breath. The cab driver headed into traffic, assuming that they were together. Just as she was reaching over to touch the cab driver on the shoulder, he saw out of the corner of his eye, her rounded, swollen belly that perched on her lap like a ball. His hand automatically went to where her left hand hung, mid-air and gently pushed it down. “We’ll share," he muttered more to his shoes than to her.

“Sam...is that you?” she asked hesitantly while turning as best she could to face him in the back seat. His head jerked upwards. The invisible string tied around his head pulling sharply at the sound of his name and her voice. Their eyes met.

Laughter

2010-11-20T17:05:00.000-08:00

Oh, how I have missed blogging! My band and I just finished a practice. I have to say that it's sounding pretty great. We are tying up the loose ends and making some pretty great music. But I have to say that some of the best music we made today was the laughter shared. It seems to me that sometimes I kind of forget that I need to laugh. It's not optional to my sanity. To any casual observer today, they would have thought we were absolutely insane and that what we were laughing at wasn't even that funny, and they probably would have been right, but at that moment, there was nothing funnier.

I'm sure you've had these moments too. Maybe it's partly stress relief to laugh like that, uncontrollably until the tears are coming down your face and your stomach hurts, it's definitely therapy or something. I sometimes wish there was a laughter valve that you could turn on when you need a good laugh, but definitely off when something strikes your funny bone and you can't help the snickers no matter how hard you try. It's those inappropriate laughter times that have got me in trouble over the years. When you laugh at the wrong time or for the wrong reason there are consequences! I've been kicked out of class for laughing. I've been given nasty looks for laughing. I've felt like crawling in a hole because I've laughed at someone and it hurt them. I've been laughed at more times than I can count.

Laughing with friends today reminded me that there truly are "times to laugh" and we definitely need to find the joy in life. For me, the laughter, made an already great practice, even better. Work, music, friends and fun. What could be better?

Sporadic

2010-10-23T15:32:00.000-07:00

As for this, it's the antithesis of my life......

Hello everyone! I just wanted to tell you that my blog writing may be a bit sporadic over the next month or so. My life is piling up on me and I have a gig that I am preparing for too. Between driving Elle to dance practice and swimming lessons, speaking in church, teaching a class at the Jr. High School, practicing for the gig, cooking, cleaning, laundry, being a wife, a mom, and friend I'm getting stretched. Life really is happening and I may not have time to write about it. I'm sure that I'll have things to tell you all when I have a few moments. Thank you for reading faithfully anyway...I really appreciate you all. Something to look forward to... a short story (something different for me!) that will have a few installments.

So for today, a quote to think about by one of my favorite authors, Donald Miller. " Our lives set the moral compass of the people around us. If it weren't for some of the stories my friends are telling with their lives, I'd have no guidelines for my own, no moral or creative reference with which to tell my story to God and to the world. I know that our stories matter and if they didn't, God wouldn't have placed us into the epic."

Enjoy today and live your part of the EPIC.......

What makes you bloom?

2010-10-16T11:45:00.000-07:00

I just witnessed an incredible thing. Yeast blooming. Yeast is an amazing thing to me. It is a living organism that seems to come alive when it is warm and has something to eat; sugar. When the conditions are right it blooms. It takes some time to wake up but when it does, wow! I don't know if you are catching my awe in all of this, but I feel like a little kid every time I watch it magically do it's thing. I think that you all should go to your pantry and try it....seriously.

Watching the yeast made me wonder what makes me bloom. What does it take for me to become alive and full of energy and passion? I think that I actually know. It's taken me a long time, years in fact, for me to realize what truly makes me tick, what makes my heart beat faster. It's knowing that I have something that could potentially impact the world and it's just because of who I was created to be. I'm not unique in this way either, each of us has this inside of us and for most of us it has been sleeping for a a long time or is just starting to wake up. Specifically, I use words to inspire and impact through writing and speaking. How that thing blooms in each of us is different and we all live it out in our own unique way.

Sometimes, like the yeast, our blooming requires a specific environment that is conducive to it actually happening. We need to feel like we are believed in. We need to feel like we have something to offer. We need to feel like we have people on our team. We need to feel like we can try and fail. We need to feel like our role is vital and irreplaceable. From experience, I know that these things definitely don't always line up at the same time in most cases but every little thing helps give us the courage needed to take steps toward blooming.

I know that there are days, even seasons, when I don't feel like I'm blooming at all or I feel that I have nothing to offer. I feel exhausted, drained and uninspired. I feel alone and even lost. This is when I know that I need community. People who encourage me. People who believe in me. People who care what I become in life. People that need me. People that I need. The very essence of each of us wants to be apart of community and I believe we truly become who we are meant to be in the environment of community. When you have people in your life that need what only you have and vice versa, it creates a desire to truly be the best version of yourself. It requires work (energy) to bloom, but it doesn't even feel like it sometimes because the blooming is so fun and the result is beauty.

Do you know what makes you bloom?

Thankful With a Twist

2010-10-11T09:52:00.000-07:00

Last week I went through a lot of our stuff to take to Goodwill. Whenever I pack up the back of the car with stuff to give away, I feel like a little bit of weight is lifted off of me. I realize every time that I drop off our unused and unwanted stuff that things are just that, things. I often give away things that we don't use or wear anymore, but I asked myself, what if I gave away things that I really liked, my favorite even. Would I miss those things or would I go on living as I had before? I would like to think that I could be happy without my favorite things.

Bono sings these lyrics, "Where you live should not decide whether you live or whether you die." He is talking to us, with much stuff. We live in riches, we have more than enough food, we are warm and sheltered from the elements, we have access to safe drinking water, we have more than one of something (most things), so many that we have favorites. He is challenging us to look at our stuff and how it has ultimately blinded our eyes to the rest of the world that is dying. These people are not dying because there is a lack of stuff in the world but because there is an inequality in how resources like food and water have been shared. I know that there are lots of reasons for this inequality and many of you reading will think about corruption in governments, and how sometimes poverty is a result of poor choices. These reasons, to me, do not change the fact that people are poor and that they are dying. These reasons also do not negate the need for people to help change both the circumstances and the results of poverty.

I read a story recently about Mother Theresa that I would like to share with you. It's from a book called 'Irrisistible Revolution' by Shane Claiborne. Claiborne spent a summer in Calcutta with Mother Theresa and this is what he writes, "Mother Theresa was one of those people who sacrificed great privilege because she encountered such great need. People often ask me what Mother Theresa was like. Sometimes it's like they wonder if she glowed in the dark or had a halo. She is short, wrinkled, and precious, maybe even a little bit ornery, like a beautiful, wise old granny. But there is one thing I will never forget - her feet. Her feet were deformed. Each morning in Mass, I would stare at them. I wondered if she had contracted leprosy. But I wasn't going to ask, of course. "Hey Mother, what's wrong with your feet?" One day a sister said to us, "Have you noticed her feet?" We nodded, curious. She said, "Her feet are deformed because we get just enough donated shoes for everyone, and Mother does not want anyone to get stuck with the worst pair, so she digs through and finds them. And years of doing that have deformed her feet." Years of loving her neighbor as herself deformed her feet."

This story impacted me in two ways. First, that my castoffs, the things that I give away out of my abundance can end up deforming some one's feet. Second, that Mother Theresa didn't want someone else to suffer so she suffered in their place, out of love. I ask myself again why I give "the crumbs from my table", to quote Bono again, when the poor deserve dignity, respect and the best of everything, just like I do. The poor don't need to become like us (we don't need to be like us either, if you really thing about it), but they do need to be taken care of, known, suffered with, and fought for.

I don't know what you will do with these thoughts today on Thanksgiving, but my hope is that you will give thanks and also be inspired to give out of your abundance and blessing, your very best, not the crumbs or the castoffs. Dream about what you can do to take care of, know, suffer with, and fight for the poor. They are all around us.

Rarity

2010-10-06T14:03:00.000-07:00

One thing that I've discovered is that whenever Jeremy and I are in a car for a long period of time, great conversations just happen. We solve the world's problems, discuss art and music, dream about what the future looks like and even sometimes our relationship gets mulled over. We laugh, tease and sing badly, making the kids laugh in the back seat. I enjoy being with him in the car, the hours seem to fly by. Sometimes I think we need to be in the car to reconnect. It's kind of strange but that's just us, I guess. It's a shame that these car dates are so rare.

For any of you that have small children, I am sure that you can relate when I say that you should go on a date whenever you possibly can...even if your kids are sitting in the back seat. Times of meaningful conversation are few and far between. Sometimes, you have to be creative when it comes to the time and place for dates. I've been working on a song for a few weeks that talks about this whole thing, how rare it is to just be in the same place as your spouse and just "be". Thought I would share the lyrics with you all today....

Rarity

No stars are out tonight
But there's a glow in spite
It's rarity
My head is on your chest
Take a moment to ingest
This charity

No radio or telephone
Just you and I
On our own

This fragment of our life
You're the husband, I'm the wife
It's intricate
Details, colours, brush in hand
Drawing sketches where we stand
So delicate

No radio or telephone
Just you and I
On our own

(That's what I got so far, hope to finish soon....time seems to be so fleeting lately....)

Heaven

2010-09-29T14:33:00.000-07:00

My Grandma passed away yesterday afternoon. Some of my first thoughts after I heard the news were, 'I wonder what the first few minutes in heaven are like?'. That was an overwhelming thought to me. What's it like to not have a tired and fatigued body and mind? What's it like not to be bound by the demands of time and space? What's it like to be with God? Does He give you a big hug and say how happy He is that you are there? Does he give you the personal tour? Does He whisper all the secrets of things that you never understood on earth? Does He laugh with you over the funny things that you said or did? Does He show you colors and sounds and foods that your senses on earth could never experience? Do you feel like a foreigner in a strange land or do feel that you have finally come home? What's it like to be at peace? What's it like to know that pain and sadness and heartache will never again keep you up at night? It must be amazing. I think that your mouth would hang open in wonder and awe. I think that your heart would feel like it was going to burst out of your chest.

I read a quote about heaven awhile ago that brought heaven into focus for me. It's from a book called Total Truth by Nancy Pearcey. She says, "We cannot know exactly what life will be like in eternity, but the fact that Scripture calls it a new "earth," and tells us we will live there in glorified bodies, means that it will not be a negation of the life we have known here on the old earth. Instead it will be an enhancement, an intensification, a glorification of this life. In the Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis pictures the afterlife as recognizably similar to this world, yet a place where every blade of grass seems somehow more real, more solid, more substantial than anything experienced here on earth."

I can see my Grandma admiring the flowers and smelling them again for the first time. I can see her enjoying the music that floats on the air as she catches up with old friends and loved ones. I can see her breathe in the fragrance of fall, colors becoming an intoxicating perfume. I can see her laughing and it becomes a melody that is carried on the wind bringing smiles to every one's faces. I can see her walking in the shade of towering trees and reaching out her hands to touch the softness of the lion's fur that is walking beside her. I can see her rocking sweet babies that have not yet been born and telling them secrets about what life is like. I can see her eyes light up as she sees the glow and brilliance of the throne room of God, knowing that it's the safest place. I can see the smile on her face as He reaches out His hand and invites her to sit with Him, and taste some of His home cooking.

Maybe I'm out to lunch and I have conjured a picture of heaven that is not anything like how it really is, but I'm willing to be wrong. I know that God is in the business of blowing my mind and my thoughts out of the water.

These are just the pictures that came to me.
They make me smile even though my heart is sad.
They give me a glimpse of the beauty and splendor that accompanies being with God.

If I died today....

2010-09-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

Today we are remembering the life of Lisa. Lisa was a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a teacher and a mentor. Her desire was to share her life with others and to leave God's scent on all that she encountered.

Lisa was the mom of Elle and Coen. Her children saw Lisa at her best and her worst. She was generally a pretty easy-going mom but at times a little bit of psycho would come to the surface. She rarely spent the amount of time that she would have liked to with her two favorite little people. She often lost her patience and her cool but tried to make up for it with hugs and words of encouragement. She often felt like she was taking one step forward and two steps back. She knew that her greatest influence was the one left on her children and tried to instill character, values and a desire to know who Jesus really is in her kids. She was starting to see the fruit and that brought her so much joy. To Elle she would say, "Elle, you are strong and beautiful. Use your strength to help the weak and keep finding out that love is an action word." To Coen she gives these words, " Coen, you are a world changer. Let your energy and zest for life spur you on towards people. They need someone like you." She will miss impromptu cuddles, uncontrollable giggles and kissing them every night as they sleep.

Jeremy was the love of Lisa's life. They had seven years of marriage together filled with laughter, tears, heartache, misunderstandings, dancing, music, hugs, kisses, dreams, construction, work, mistakes, miracles, joy, learning, kind words, harsh words, and lots of love. Lisa's greatest desire as a wife was to make Jeremy feel like he was important, valued, strong, smart, special and loved. He was all of those things. She often said the opposite from what she really wanted to. She was getting better at recognizing the strengths that Jeremy had and encouraging him to follow his dreams. She would love to see him enjoying the present and putting the future in God's capable hands. She wishes they had more time to discover each other and share that with their kids.

Lisa's parents, brothers, sister-in-laws, nephews and nieces were very special to her. She was far away from them across the miles but spent many hours thinking and praying for them. She loved talking with her Dad on the phone. They often "preached" to each other the things that they were learning. She always had hard time saying goodbye to her Mom and often called her just to cry. It was like having a hug when she needed it the most. Her brothers were amazing. She was so proud of the men that they had become. They always encouraged her to be her best. She hoped that she did the same for them.

Lisa wore her heart on her sleeve. Often tears and laughter filled the same moment. She loved and hated that she felt things deeply. She enjoyed trying new things. It gave her a sense of adventure just to try, whether she failed or triumphed. She was often very harsh in her judgements. The fact that she was also as stubborn as a mule didn't help. If she had a judgement, she often couldn't be swayed from it. She felt that she was learning though what things really had value in life and spent time fighting for those causes. She was a champion of the underdog, which often brought tension. She spoke of things, people, and situations with passion. This passion was often seen as strange or weird. Not a lot of people really knew how to handle this aspect of Lisa. She didn't mean to hurt people but she did mean to rock the boat, make people think, and inspire change. She was learning that sometimes the approach she had for doing this needed some tweaking. Her real desire in all of it was to point people towards Jesus and the freedom that comes from truly understanding who He is and what He's all about. It was something that she was searching for and trying to live out herself.

Something that Lisa valued more than almost anything was investing in people. She felt that it was important to share her stories, lessons (both learned and relearned), trials, and triumphs with people who were often asking questions themselves about how to live. She loved being with people and tried to inspire hope and unlock people's gifts and dreams.

Lisa often felt scattered, weak, scared and inadequate but she always knew that God was not finished with her. He was still working on her, making her more like Himself. She loved playing the piano and making music that she believed was on His Ipod. She enjoyed the creation that He made and spent time taking in the sunsets, stars, wildflowers, fall colors and the amazing people that He placed in her life.

Lisa's wish for those who are remembering her today is to be honest with yourself in the present; right now. Discover your strengths and use them to help others. Look your weaknesses in the eye, stare them down and set goals that turn those weaknesses into opportunities for growth and stretching. She would say to you all, "Try new things, give of yourself to others, love God and share that love with the world around you. You can change the world. Live."

Storytime

2010-09-22T14:55:00.000-07:00

I met a stranger in McDonald's today while the kids and I were eating lunch. My Mom always said never to talk to strangers, but over the years that saying has lost it's fear. Sorry, Mom. I am a disobedient daughter. I have found throughout my adult life thus far, that some of the most interesting conversations that you have with people are the very first ones. The conversations in which you learn about where people are from, what they do, what their life has been like up until the moment that you meet them. I love hearing people's stories and life experiences. I love asking questions that uncover their valuable history and memories. You can learn so much from what other people have lived through and learned. The sad thing to me, is that I feel more comfortable doing this with complete strangers than I do with people that I've known for years.

Sometimes I look around at the people that I interact with often and realize how little I know about their story. Even with some of my closest friends, I am missing pieces of their stories. Most often conversations start with, "How are you doing?" and that is as far as it goes. Sometimes, out of the blue, I learn something that I never knew. A piece of the story that makes my friend make sense or shines light on to the way that they think and act. And I wonder why I never knew that before.

This blog, for me, tells pieces of my story all the time. A lot of it is my everyday life. Some of it is about people who have impacted me. And still another part of it is my memories. Another part is about what I dream for the future. Telling your story is as important as learning to listen and find out what other people are all about. What I write about tells about me; what's important to me and what I strive to achieve throughout living my story. I find that telling people your story puts it into light sometimes. What I mean by that is that when you share it, it becomes real and then you are accountable to it.

My very first blog talked about my dream to become a rock star. By writing that piece of my story I have become accountable to you with what I do to achieve that dream. You can mark my progress, or lack thereof, now because you know part of my story. I think that maybe we don't tell our stories for this very reason sometimes. If we share about our dreams and we don't achieve them or if we fail, we might look idiots. Heaven forbid that our story is not perfect! I have learned a secret, it's often the tension and the struggle that makes for the best kind of story. When you overcome the hard things, there is victory. If you aren't fighting for something or struggling to overcome adversity and challenges, your eulogy is going to be putting people to sleep. (That's going to be my next post....my own eulogy....stay tuned.)

False Advertising

2010-09-18T09:01:00.000-07:00

I was reading the label on my shampoo bottle yesterday and I discovered something that I just can't seem to wrap my head around. It said, "For healthy looking hair." What does that mean? Does it mean my hair just looks healthy after using this brand of shampoo, but it really isn't? Is healthy "looking" hair what I want, or do I want hair that is actually healthy? What if the bottle of shampoo said, "For 'clean' looking hair?" What are the slogan people really saying? Here's another one that stumps me.... on a tube of face cream...."Reduces the appearance of fine lines." Does the cream keep fine lines from appearing? Or does it make the fine lines appear smaller? I think what I'm looking for is some clarity. I'm not sure what these products are really trying to sell. Maybe I do know, but I'm playing hard to get until they say what they really mean. Why do we eat up things that are so unclear and nebulous? What are we looking for?

People are advertising all the time too. We want to appear a certain way so, we dress a certain way, we live in a certain neighborhood, we drive a certain car, we buy certain products that really don't promise anything specifically. Somehow we think that the 'appearance' of things trumps the actuality of real life and all it has to offer. We have to look like we have it all together even if we don't. We paint on a facade that covers how we actually feel, think and look.

It's like only showing people pictures that we think we look okay in. We are embarrassed to have people see us without the "perfection" mask in place. (These photos were taken around the dinner table when we were experimenting with crossing our eyes!! They crack me up. What are these pictures saying about us?) Is this what we really want or need out of life? Wouldn't life be more impacting and inspiring if our pursuit was for character rather than the 'appearance' of character based on our material possessions and how we look? Does the product, ourselves, reflect who we truly are? Are we advertising something that is invaluable? Or do we let our facade do the advertising for us?

I have asked more questions than I have answers for, hope you ponder what you are saying to the world...

Rubber Boot Trauma

2010-09-15T15:32:00.000-07:00

I had to get Elle a new pair of rubber boots today since her feet have been growing like crazy. It's been quite wet here the last couple of weeks and she's been complaining every time she has to put her hand-me-down boots on. They were just too small. So, she now has new, black boots with hearts on them. She's sporting them right now with a bright pink skirt....so into fashion, my girl.

All this thought about rubber boots reminded me of an episode from my own childhood. It was a rainy day and mom was kicking my brothers and I out of the house for some reason..... Our rubber boots lived in the garage that was attached to the house, saving mom some extra cleaning from the mud and other things that would surely be tracked back through house. In my day, all rubber boots looked the same, black with orange soles. My mom had painted things on our boots so we could come home from school with same ones. Mine had daisies painted on them. (My brother's had lightening bolts on theirs and were dubbed with silly names. They even made up songs to go with their boots!!! I think I will have to tell more stories about my brothers at a different time!!) Well on this particular day, I clearly remember going onto the garage to get my boots and one of them was lying on it's side. I picked them up and carried them into the mat in the entrance. I then proceeded to put my foot into the boot that had been tipped over in the garage. There was something squishy in the toe, so I took my boot off and dumped out the squishy. It turned out to be a salamander. It must have crawled into the garage and found a home in my boot. I screamed and ran in circles around it. (A pretty typical girl thing to do!!) I think mom got the salamander into the dust pan and chucked it out the door while trying to console me. I was scared to put my foot into the other boot!!! To this day, if I have left a shoe or a boot outside, I tip it over first. Just to make sure!!! You never know what could be in there....

I find it funny that I still do that. One bad experience has tainted me somehow. I no longer have boot trust. One squishy salamander has jaded me. Often this is how I react to other situations and people too. If I have a run-in or a negative experience with someone, my memory is like an elephant's. I don't forget how that feels and I'm very wary of entering into the same situations with people again. Some people become taboo for me, because I think they are out to get me.

I've been thinking about second chances lately. There are a lot of people that need a second chance from me. There are things that I just need to get over. I would like to trust people. I would like to be forgiving. I would like to not be afraid of what "might" happen. I would like to respond to people without covering up past encounters. I'm starting to think that disappointment is a normal thing. People will let me down. It's how I respond to disappointment that uncovers how much I'm willing to be a friend.

Pastor Jones and Me

2010-09-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you've been following the headlines much this week and if you heard about the pastor from Florida that was planning to burn the Qur'an today. He was planning to burn the Qur'an in protest of the proposed building of a Muslim mosque near Ground Zero in New York City. Today, the ninth anniversary of the September 11th bombings, was his planned date for the burning. When I first heard about this earlier this week, I got a huge knot in my stomach and I felt this intense sadness and also anger that another stupid thing would happen in the name of "Jesus". Pastor Terry Jones felt led by God in his plans. (Enter eye roll here.) Even faced with the knowledge that innocent people's lives were being placed in danger because of his actions, he persisted in his plans. (Enter punch to the face here.) Even when top government officials, including the President, were urging him to stop, he wasn't listening. (Enter Simeon Rottier tackle here!!!) Only after receiving death threats of his own did he stop to consider that just maybe it wasn't such a great idea to burn the Qur'an. (Enter throwing hands up in despair!!!)

Over the centuries, Christians have been labeled judgmental, arrogant, hypocritical, intolerant, fundamentalist, conservative, racist, exclusive, and the list could go on. I, at times, have not shown that I am any different from what people expect from a "Christian". This week started out like that. I realized that I was thinking about Pastor Jones with judgment, arrogance and intolerance. I was the very things that Christians are famous for. I felt like the enemy was within my own ranks and I had to do something about that. Thus the punches to the face and the Simeon Rottier tackles!! As I took time to ruminate and really think this thing through, I was reminded of Jesus words concerning enemies. He says "...love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst." (Matthew 5:44) I was definitely letting the worst come to the surface. It hurt me that someone, calling themselves a Christian, was doing something so crazy and thoughtless. But I was, in my thinking, really angry with Pastor Jones and thinking he deserved to be tackled by a really big football player and somehow I was still able to call myself a Christian. That was a jolt to me. Jesus asks that I LOVE my enemies and pray for them. He wants me to be generous and gracious to others the way that He has shown that to me.

It's so easy to hate. I look at the world and I see it everywhere. It's difficult to love those that hurt you, to be gracious to them, to extend them patience and tolerance. I don't agree with burning the Qur'an at all, but I do believe that I needed to see how my intolerance of Pastor Jones was, in fact smearing the face of Jesus' reputation just the same. So, Pastor Jones and I both need grace and we both need to keep finding out who Jesus is and what He's all about. I'm praying for you, Pastor Jones.

Grandma

2010-09-06T09:17:00.000-07:00

I'm baking bread today. While it's rising I thought I would blog. Baking bread and doing domestic type things always reminds me of my Grandma. She's ninety. She had a stroke about five years ago and has since been in a senior's home where my Grandpa visits everyday to spend time with her and help her eat. I miss being close to them and look forward to the brief visits we get to share together whenever we make the trek to Saskatchewan.

This is my Grandma at our wedding reception, 2003

Growing up I never knew that my Grandma was extraordinary. It never crossed my mind. She was just Grandma. She was just there and I thought that every kid had a grandma like I did. Now I'm not so sure. I'll try and give you a picture of this woman from my childhood. She is tall and big-boned. She has a wide smile and an a defined jaw line. Her hands are work worn yet gentle. Her fingers are often stained from canning fruit and vegetables. Her laugh flows out easily and she loves to tease. She has mischief in her eyes and a quick wit to match. Every Saturday morning she drives downtown to get her hair done. She smells like baked bread, freshly laundered clothes and pickles. She likes to pick her teeth with a toothpick. She is efficient in her work. She is hospitable and always has a feast ready and waiting to be thawed for any visitor that stops by for coffee...think doughnuts and squares and oatmeal-date cookies...oh my. She is an amazing cook, not having to use recipes anymore because she has made kucha, fried chicken, cabbage rolls and perogies hundreds of times. Her house is tidy and organized and always smells like she's just baked something yummy. She takes time for family and friends and gives of herself for her community and church. She is willing to share her knowledge of plants and baking and often takes willing students for tours of her sunroom and flower garden. She likes to tell a good story, especially ones that will get people laughing. Sometimes she has to take her glasses off and wipe her eyes because she is laughing so hard herself from the telling. She goes to recitals and concerts to show her support for grand kids. She invites them for sleepovers at the lake. She loves holding babies and fussing over them. She likes to read, cross stitch and make afghans for every grand kid. She is talented and has excelled at almost everything that she puts her hand to, yet she would never boast. She is serious and humorous. She is kind and firm. She is practical and friendly. She tells it how it is and has a soft spot in her heart. She hugs roughly but honestly. She is some woman.

Grandma holding Elle, 2005

This woman, of my chilhood disappeared five years ago. I miss the amazing woman that my Grandma was. She was full of life and had a spark of passion for doing simple things in extraordinary ways. I don't think I really ever told my grandma that I thought she was amazing, while I had the chance. I'm not sure I knew how amazing she was until I stopped to think about it. I want to honor my grandma today and recognize the role that she played in my life. Thank you Grandma for who you are and all the things that you have passed on to me. I tell my kids stories about you all the time. I love you and I think you are beautiful. When I take my fresh bread out of the oven today, I will cut off a big slice and put lots of peanut butter and honey on it and dream about the after school snacks at your kitchen table. I'll be thinking of you.....

Take time to think about people in your life who have left an impression and then tell them. Honoring someone is beautiful.

First Day

2010-09-02T09:41:00.000-07:00

Vacation. Love it. That's where I've been the last week and we had a great time. It was the first time that our family has ever gone on vacation. Destination: Lethbridge, Alberta. Why there you may ask? This was a working vacation. Jeremy played two one-hour sets everyday with his friend Bob at the fair in Lethbridge. The rest of the time was spent just being. I actually felt more normal than I have in a while. I actually played with my kids instead of working at some project. And the best part was that Jeremy was with us. I don't know how things work in a all of your families but I do know that I seem to be alone with the kids a lot of the time. We got to swim, play on a playground, go for rides at the fair, ride a pony, eat scrumptious cupcakes, visit with wonderful friends from long ago, explore an old fort, and watch cartoons....together. Coming home to routine has been hard because this week is bringing something new into our world; Elle's very first day of school.

Do you remember your first day of school? I don't think I really remember mine but it has been forever memorialized with "The First Day of Kindergarten Photo".

Me, bad hair, squinting into the sunlight, great runners, Holly Hobby lunch kit, standing in front of the flower bed by our house.

I tried to duplicate it with Elle this morning, minus the sun shining directly into her eyes!!! She sure is a lot cuter than I ever was!! I don't remember feeling excited or scared or anything, it obviously wasn't as big of a deal to me as it was to my Mom. I've never asked my Mom what my "first day" was like, but I know that I have been dreading this day for quite awhile while Elle could not stop talking about it. I always knew that I would have trouble letting my little "big" girl go out into the great big world. But here I am, doing just that. Watching her step onto the bus this morning and having it drive away into the fog, literally, brought a couple tears to my eyes. What is it with being a parent, more specifically a mom, that brings about all this emotion at the most happy times? I was one of two parents who also went to the school to take some more pictures and of course make sure she was alright, more for my sake than for hers, I think. She's fine, I knew she would be. But, I miss her. I think that Jer thinks I'm a psycho, but it really is a big deal. Life is forever changed in our family. That's huge. I'm excited for all of the things she will learn and experience, all the friends and mentors that she will meet and grow to love, and all the ways that she will make her mark on the world. I just wish that I could see it all unfolding..... I guess that's the letting go part about having kids. There are somethings that they have to navigate in their own, and I have to have faith that the things that Jer and I have taught her in the last five and half years are the start of someone great, Elle! But, you know what, I'm already looking forward to tomorrow when she's back!!

Adventures in Fern Hollow

2010-08-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

Last night I got to hang out with a great friend, Autumn. She has been away in Jasper all summer working and is now home for a few days before heading back to college. She penciled me in for last night and I was so glad to be able to hang out with her. Of course, my idea of fun, walking through the forest on some beautiful trails (armed with cameras and a bear banger) turned into something more like an adventure. I have to say that adventure is something that I have come to expect, especially in the company of certain people!!

We hit the trails shortly after 8:00pm last night. It was a beautiful night, a little smokey due to the forest fires burning in B.C. and a little buggy; but that's just to be expected!

We saw and ate wild raspberries.

We chased a spiky porcupine.

We listened to some grumpy hawks squabbling.

We hugged a massive tree.

We swam in a fern-filled hollow.

We watched the murky waters of the Pembina.

We saw the track left by a black bear....and tried not to step in some other "fresh" offerings he decided to leave on the path.

We enjoyed each other's company as we walked aimlessly down leafy trails.

As it turns out one of our trails came to a dead end. Instead of turning around and taking the path back where we had come from we ventured on into uncharted territory along the river bank thinking that we would soon come upon the open "camping spot" just around the bend or the next bend or maybe it's the next bend??!! Autumn called this "off-roading". I called it adventure. We felt like we were walking in the jungle or what we imagined the jungle to be like. The foliage and fallen trees were very thick and at times hard to traverse through. Autumn kept wishing for her machete, a purchase recently made in El Salvador, to cut through the thick brush. And I kept wishing for a sight of the "camping spot".

After what seemed like an eternity, probably about a mile, of off-roading on foot through the bushes, hair full of forest-type things, snags and pulls on our clothes, pokes and prickles in our feet we finally came to a spot where we could see the opening along the river bank where the camping spot was located. It was getting darker by the minute. We gracefully (ha!) jumped down from the river bank to walk the rest of the way in the mud and see the frogs scramble out of our path along the river. We survived our adventure and didn't have to stay in the middle of the spooky woods all night long with the bears and the porcupines.

What I found interesting in all of this, was that the woods were intriguing and beautiful until we felt like we were battling them and feeling a teensy bit lost. That's when the fear came and took away our eyes to see the beauty that was still all around us. Instead, the woods became threatening and full of hungry bears. The woods were the same, our perspective of them had changed. Crazy. You can draw your own life altering conclusions from that!

The evening ended with laughter, of course, and banana bread. Which is how I think every adventure with a friend should end.

Time

2010-08-16T23:59:00.000-07:00

A poem of Solomon...and a song by the Beatles....

There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything in the earth.
A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,

A right time to kill and another to heal,

A right time to destroy and another to construct,

A right time to cry and another to laugh,

A right time to lament and another to cheer,

A right time to make love and another to abstain,

A right time to embrace and another to part,

A right time to search and another to count your losses,

A right time to hold on and another to let go,

A right time to rip out and another to mend,

A right time to shut up and another to speak up,

A right time to love and another to hate,

A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

I was reminded of this poem from Ecclesiastes today because I felt bound by time. I had X amount of hours today to do more than my allotted amount of X was offering me. I have a list, you see, of things that I have deemed important and that I absolutely need to get done. If I don't do the things on said list I just don't know what might happen. It could be catastrophic, or so I believe. As I was laying in my bed trying to use my allotted seconds for sleep in a productive manner I could not stop thinking about time and how in the grander scheme of things why I have put so much pressure on myself to use my time to be a human doing rather than a human being. Nowhere in Solomon's musings are the "to-do" list types of things. Solomon's list is rather like a "to-be" list. He describes time as more of an intense experience to be shared and felt with others.

I tend to focus a lot of my time on the tasks that will never really cease needing attention. I don't think this is necessarily wrong it just does not lend itself to me feeling like I'm actually getting anywhere. (I think this might actually be the definition that is found beside the word insanity.) Sometimes I feel like I am wasting this precious life on things that really don't matter, which leads me to question what really does matter. My kids. My husband. My family. My neighbors. My community. People and how I treat them...that's what matters.

Sometimes I picture God just watching us go from here to there and do silly things... like going to meetings that really don't accomplish much or dusting a knick-knack for the hundredth time or checking another thing off the to-do list or playing solitaire...ALONE. He must be just shaking His head in wonderment at how we use our time. We seem to think that our time is indefinite and unquantifiable (if that is a word!!). Two of my favorite philosophers of all time, Bill and Ted, have most excellently summed up the brevity of our time in this quote, "All we are is dust in the wind, Dude." Dust. Wind. Dude.

I'm not exactly sure how to fix our time dilemma. But I think I want to have a to-be list on the same page as my to-do list. I think it might remind me to have a little more perspective on how I use my dust.

And now for something upbeat......

2010-08-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

I bought Elle a bird book back in the spring and it has had a prominent place on the window ledge by the kitchen table ever since. Elle loves learning the names of the different birds and I have actually heard her singing the song of the white-throated sparrow. Sometimes she takes her book and her mini binoculars outside in search of the birds that she hears singing in the treetops. She told me that she would like to have a pet eagle! I'm not sure an eagle would do well in a cage in the house?! Can you imagine what you would have to feed an eagle? That is somewhere my mind does not go willingly.

I have noticed that the song birds have left our neck of the woods over the past couple of weeks. They don't beckon me from sleep in the morning anymore. It's been so quiet in our yard, it's almost eerie. I didn't know that I would miss the warbling birdsong filling the air until it was gone. It has been troubling to me that they have disappeared. I wasn't ready for them to leave. To me songbirds are the epitome of joy. They wake in the morning and they just have to sing. It's inside them and they have to let it out. They are not trying to do be something else. They don't try to bark or moo or quack. These little songsters just give it all they got and let the world know they are there.

I have had the privilege of knowing a couple of human songbirds. They aren't singers per se but they are people that are full of joy. One of these people is my very own Mama. Songbirds love to laugh and spread a feeling of contentedness wherever they are. They are comfortable in their own skin and somehow rub that off on you when you are with them. You want to be around people like this because they seem to have a secret about life and you hope that if you keep company with them they will tell that secret to you too. I think that all of us could do with more laughter, contentment and joy in our lives. That's why these people are so attractive to us; they are somehow able to pull these things out of us. They have a gift. I also know when these people have disappeared from my life. I know when I have not had a good laugh in a long time. I know when I am feeling just out of sorts. I know when everything seems to be overwhelming. I know when I need a shot of joy. Sometimes the cure is connecting with a songbird.

Sometimes the cure is to be a songbird for someone else.
Giving joy means having joy.
Sing a song that is infectiously sparkly and invites others to sincere cheerfulness.

Lifetime Student

2010-08-10T12:56:00.000-07:00

I love reading. I like to think that I always have. My mom said my favorite reading material as a toddler was the Sears Catalogue. I would flip through the pages and point to things asking what they were and expanding my vocabulary. I remember when I started reading chapter books like Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables and how I just couldn't put them down. Reading transported me to places outside of my time and experience. I would read long into the night, often hurriedly putting my book under my pillow and faking sleep as my parents climbed the stairs to go to bed. I still have a hard time putting a good book down. Just one more page, one more paragraph, one more sentence are guidelines that I can never seem to stick to. Chapters later I am still awake and reading.

Over the years I have read many books, both fiction and non-fiction. Reading books has been a source of pleasure, knowledge, wisdom, and challenge in my life. Without reading I would never have had the desire to write. One of the regrets of my early adulthood is that I didn't go to university after I had finished three years of bible college. I didn't really know what I wanted to study and pour my energy into so I opted to work and pursue some rock star dreams. The desire to learn and be challenged was inside of me then and I have to say even more so now. Reading has given me an education that has been tailored for me. I love reading books that challenge my small ideas and mindsets. I love reading books that awaken my passion for people and causes. I love reading books that call me to something more than what I currently limit myself to. I love reading books that make me think about faith and God in a new light. I love reading books that teach me about places that I have never been. I love reading books that help me learn about different cultures and history. Reading has expanded my knowledge as well as my awareness of the things that I have yet to discover, my ignorance. My greatest educator has been found between the covers of a book at the fraction of the cost of formal education.

Reading has not offered me a job, a degree, or letters behind my name, but it has enhanced the person that I am becoming. Many people leave university and never again crack the spine on a book. This is so sad to me. Cramming books down people's throats because they need to read them for an assignment or a course does not instill a love of learning or knowledge. I read something recently that promoted the idea that leaders are readers. I think about the kind of person that I want to follow and they are people who don't necessarily have all the right answers but who are asking the right questions. As I alluded to previously, knowledge isn't about being right or having concrete answers but about realizing that there are still things to learn and to educate yourself about, the things that you are ignorant about.

I am assuming, that because you are reading this blog right now that you value reading and learning. On this assumption, I would like to challenge you to read books, blogs, newspapers (anything you can get your hands on) that expands your knowledge and makes you ask questions. Become a lifetime student, knowing that there will always be something else out there to discover. Get a library card; it's unlimited access to thousands of books with little cost. Promote reading to children, it's time well invested on the leaders of the future.

Question? What book has influenced you the most and in what way?

Energy

2010-08-03T00:17:00.000-07:00

Spunk, get-up-and-go, oommfff, energizer bunny, dynamo, vigor, gusto, zest, verve, pep, live wire, and fervor are all words that are, to me, synonymous with energy. Many of you know that I have two children, Elle and Coen. This word, energy, applies to both of them but in particular to child number two. Coen is two and a half years old and is full of life. The following words have been said about Coen upon observation or from having spent any length of time in the same room with him; rambunctious, monkey, hyper, handful, wiggly, and does he ever sit still?

Coen loves to be where the action is and if there is a dull moment he will fill it up with some kind of craziness. He giggles and tickles and runs very fast on two small legs. He throws things and loves to get into the honey when he thinks that no one will find "his royal stickiness". He is an amateur escape artist and can con anyone into giving him things laden with sugar, his drug of choice. And then he smiles and wants to cuddle melting your heart into a big puddle of goo (he gets that from his Dad). Five seconds later though he starts up with the mischief all over again (he gets that from his Dad too!). This is just how he is and I love him to bits. The downside is that he really seems to wear me out. I sometimes wish that his energy could recharge mine somehow.

Everything about life requires energy. Relationships, jobs, studying, parenting, cleaning the toilet, playing Bocce ball, learning Japanese, riding a unicycle, pulling weeds, climbing Mt. Everest, and writing a blog late at night, all require that some effort on our part is exerted. I don't know about you, but when I have completed a task that required a lot of energy I sometimes like to stand back and just look at it for a bit, even if it's only an abstract observation in my own mind. I like to think about how the work that went into whatever I was trying to accomplish was worth it. I like to think about how that work can or will affect others around me. I love it when I can look at my effort and feel like I did my best. There is a sense of satisfaction in energy well used.

The flip side of this happy coin is the fact that sometimes the energy we put into things drains us. I know that I have a lot harder time seeing the value in things that make me feel like I would rather just stay in bed! Sometimes there is not a whole lot of immediate return on the energy that we spend. This is called investment. The return is far into the future, if ever. Yet these uphill battles and struggles are worthy pursuits because they require us to persevere and to be faithful even when there doesn't seem to be an end to them or a reward. Maybe the reward for our investment is not our own, but someone else's. I know that as I parent my monkey, Coen, the energy that he consumes from me, is my investment in who he becomes. As much as he wears me out now and keeps me on my toes, I know that every moment I spend with him will shape my little world-changer and it's worth it!

Dilema

2010-07-30T11:15:00.000-07:00

Want to write...have to work. Here's a poem from long ago 'cause I really do need to do something productive (not that this isn't!!). Hope you're long weekend is smashingly fun! Lisa

Umbrellas are for wimps
Tea is for the ladies
Money's for the rich folk
And bottles for the babies

Couches for the lazy
Not enough hours for the farmer
Jewels for the Queen
And fancy words for the charmer

Sunshine for the flowers
Rain is for the mourners
Romance is for fools
Bad boy were made for corners

Music is for dancers
Dogs are man's best friend
Monday's are for complaining
Letters were made to send

The sea is for the fish
The sky is for the stars
A love seat made for two
Race car drivers for race cars

Sleep is for dreamers
Kittens made to purr
Swearing is for idiots
Pots were made to stir

Junk was made to collect
Grass for bare feet
Little girls have their giggles
While Grandma's have their sweets

Toes are for tickling
Warm blankets for the cold
Gossip for the time wasters
Card games for the old

Secrets are for friends
Lawyers made for lies
Snow angels made for God
Leaving for goodbyes

Castles are for kings
Cabins for the woods
Movies for celebrities
Messages understood

Parents made to hug
Kisses made for lips
Stars were made for wishes
Hula hoops for hips

Night is for the owls
Honey for the bees
I guess the only two things left...
Are you and me

Need to Breathe - Something Beautiful - Exclusive Performance

2010-07-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

This song and video are exactly what I'm talking about.... Something Beautiful can be made even when we are still unsure and don't have everything figured out. It's raw and sweet and full of hope for something beautiful. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Song

2010-07-27T11:53:00.000-07:00

Over the years I've written some songs. People always ask if I have some formula for writing one. They want to know if the melody comes first or the lyrics. They want to know the creative process and how it all comes together into a song. I think I often get a strange look on my face, dumbfounded and idiot-like, whenever I get asked these questions. For me, there has been no formula.

Sometimes a melody comes in the middle of the night and I have to get out of my nice, warm bed and go play it on the piano. I have a digital recorder by my piano so I can remember what I came up with in the morning. Sometimes I have a line of lyrics that I just can't get out of my head and it becomes something more, like a poem. Sometimes words and melodies are fused together upon conception and cannot be undone. There is no formula. I wonder if other song writers have formulas? Somehow I doubt it.

From the time our little brains started asking "why?" we have been basically asking the formula-type questions. It's in our nature to want to know the order and the structure of things so we know where we fit in all of that. I am no different. I wonder about the strangest things sometimes...why are butterflies called butterflies? (I've never seen a butterfly anywhere near butter.) Why do drive-thru ATM machines have braille on the keypads? (I hope there are no blind drivers out there!!) Why do people get cancer? Why do people have to suffer? Why am I here? Why?

Why?

I think we want to know the answers to these questions so we can feel sure of something, so we can somehow have a little less fear. I read somewhere that fear is basically a lack of understanding. I get that. That's why we demand answers and formulas and cures and encyclopedias and security systems and insurance. We want to cover our backs and rest easier at night. There is safety in knowing?

I have become more and more aware lately that there really are no formulas. There are no books by self-help gurus, doctors, scientists, or heads of national security that can and will always get it right. They can't come up with a formula that fits every person everywhere, in every culture or time in history. Life was never meant to be formulaic. It is fluid. It is reliant on things we can't even see or touch like air. There are so many things that just can't be put into a neat and tidy mathematical equation. We don't get a script at birth laying out what our life will look like. We make choices. We become reliant on other people, who have questions too. We create. We learn to trust, even when it doesn't make sense or it's scary. We live courageously without knowing what the next moment will bring.

As a creator of songs, I know the lack of process that goes into creating one and I have never lost a wink of sleep over that. There's definitely something freeing in not having to have it all figured out. A song becomes something as I create. Life becomes something as I truly live it.

Watcher

2010-07-24T14:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever watched a spider? Have you seen a spider drop from the sky on an invisible thread? Have you watched a spider weave a web so intricate and delicate? Have you gazed in wonder and horror as a spider wraps it's prey in a blanket of sticky, silvery thread? Spiders have always intrigued me. I am not one of those girls that screams and runs around freaking out about the eight-legged, arachnids. I don't kill them, or stomp on them, or jump on a chair because I think they are amazing. They are the architects of the animal kingdom. I marvel at how something so small can do the things that they do without ever being taught. I could sit for hours on my deck at night and watch as the spiders do their splendid work.They truly are magnificent.

I have been reading Charlotte's Web by E.B. White to Elle the last little while. I love hearing from Charlotte's perspective what it is like to spin a web, what the different kinds of line are used for, and how she explains to Wilbur that it's really not that awful to eat a bug. Wilbur, in his innocence, believes that he can spin a web as good as any spider and sets out to make one with a rope tied to his curly, pig-tail. Of course, no matter how hard he tries he just can't do it. He is not a spider. He is a pig and pigs do not make spider webs.

Watching is entirely different than doing, as Wilbur found out in his web-spinning experiment. Spectating is not playing. Reading is not writing. Painting by numbers is not painting. Assembling IKEA furniture is not cutting, sanding, and creating the design of a chair. Looking at your bike from inside your house is not riding it. Knowledge is not wisdom. All of these examples point to something more.

So much of our lives are spent as watchers. We see other people do things and somehow we think that we could never do that. We limit ourselves. We tell ourselves we can't. We compare our 'would-be, not-ever-tried' experience with people who have invested time, energy, practice into skill development and think that because we can't be the best at something, like those other people, we shouldn't even try. Here's a secret. Now listen up. At some point those people that are doing those things that you think are amazing tried something. After the trying, they decided that they were going to pursue it with everything they've got, whether they succeeded or not. We are all afraid to suck, to be mediocre, and to possibly be ridiculed, so we don't put ourselves in that position...ever. And then we wonder why we are bored, flipping the channels, and generally grouchy with the way our lives are panning out. We aren't really doing much; we're just watching.

I love hearing people's stories of when they've tried something new and they find out they really love it. Even better that they really didn't, but they tried, and it was okay. You can appreciate something, like how I view my eight-legged friends, and still not be able to spin a web. I'm not saying that I'm going to try and spin a web, but watching can and should inspire action.

I dare you to move.

Husbands

2010-07-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago today, I got married to Jeremy. It was a beautiful day that we talk about often. Time has marched on and here we are seven years into this thing called marriage. We started as a family of two that day and now it has grown to four. I thought I really loved Jer when I married him, but I know now that the love I had for him then was very small and untested. I think about people that have been married for thirty years plus and what love must be like at that point, after living so much more of life together.

Marriage is interesting. It is not really what I thought it was in my naive teenage years. I imagined that we would have hours of uninterrupted time together...ha! I imagined going for walks together at the end of the day. I imagined love letters and flowers and all that other stuff that I thought was romance. I now think that romance is stolen kisses with kids hanging off our legs. Romance is is sitting on our deck as the sun goes down, not saying much of anything, just being together in the same place. Romance is a hug when the day starts and a kiss goodnight. Romance is belly laughing at each other. Romance is crying in each other's arms. Romance is talking through life's ups and downs and celebrating that we continue on the journey...together. I am glad that I have been surprised by what marriage is really like. I am happy that it is different and so much more than what I thought it was.

Husbands are interesting too. I had room mates a couple time during my single life, but I have to say that having a room mate is not the same thing as having a husband. Room mates do not have the same expectations as a spouse. You don't have the same kind of time and love invested in that kind of co-habitation either. I have seen every side (maybe not quite every side) of my husband, Jer; the good, the bad, the ugly, the selfish, the angry, the gentle, the compassionate, the heartbroken, the sweet, the harsh, the lovable, the servant, the generous, the taker, the father, the friend, the son, the brother, the idiot, the genius, the creative, the destructive, the playful, the work-aholic, the lover, the artist, the musician, the builder, the brooder, the depressed, the joyful, the hungry, the grumpy, the hilarious, the actor, the studious, the amazing, the driven, the thoughtful, the thoughtless, the kind, the romantic, an the absolutely most disgusting. And I love him, with a bigger love than I thought my heart could hold. The crazy part is that he has seen all of my sides and he loves me back. The wonder of it all!!??

I am so honored that I get to spend the rest of my life learning what it means to love every side of Jeremy Seatter. It's hard, it's wonderful, it's complex, it's painful, it requires more than what I am capable of at times, but it's worth it. I get to learn about love by loving.

"Purse"spective

2010-07-16T08:52:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago my family and I were travelling home from Saskatchewan ("Scratch", as we call it) after a five days visiting with my family. We, actually Jeremy, decided that we should get an early start on our many houred journey. The alarm went off at 4:30 in the morning. I whined and dragged my sick and sorry, sleep deprived self out of bed and set about packing up the rest of our stuff. Half an hour later we were in the truck and driving away, grumpy kids and all.

It's around 1100 kilometers from Grenfell, my home town, to our home in Dapp, Alberta. I never look forward to all the driving but usually end up having really great conversations with Jer and get a lot of reading under my belt. The kids do very well too. We plan pretty regular stops to stretch legs and run around and pack lots of books and toys for the back seat fiasco. So the ten or so hours of actual driving time usually extends to 13 or more. We made really good time on this particular day since most of the morning the kids were sleeping and required less stops than usual. We were probably going to be home in great time, in bed early, with even a few loads of laundry finished. I was ecstatic since we were heading to Camp the next day.

All of my plans took a turn when Jeremy decided to stop in Fort Saskatchewan at Home Depot to pick up some materials he needed for the house he's working on (more on this subject in a later post). So we pile out of the truck and head into Home Depot. The kids love Home Depot because they have these carts that look like race cars. Even after sitting all day in a vehicle they still wanted to sit in the car cart. I must say that these carts are the most laborious and awkward things to push around but I concede because they love it and because they are both contained!! No running after kids equals happy Mom! So, after awhile my purse (a recent find at Goodwill) which Jeremy has dubbed "The Shield" because it covers half my body, is really hampering my pushing of the race car cart. I chucked it in the cart part and ceased to remember that it existed. After an hour or so, clock ticking, less laundry loads being done, we left Home Depot in the pouring rain. I ran across the parking lot to the truck hoping to get the kids in the truck in record time and relatively dry. As it turns out, I did. Yay!

Here's where the story gets complicated. Jeremy isn't happy because Home Depot in Fort Saskatchewan didn't have one important thing that he needed. So we head off to St. Albert's Home Depot, half an hour away. This time the kids and I stayed in the truck and Jer was lightening fast. The kids were hungry so we hit a McD's drive-thru. Jeremy asked me if I had some cash to which I reply, "Sure, it's in my purse. Where's my purse? Have you seen my purse? Where is it?" Needless to say, the next few moments in the drive-thru lane were not pretty. I said some other words that shall not be repeated, I slammed some doors and made a general fuss about "The Shield" being MIA. I'm sure the other people in the drive-thru had a great show even though they were being held up by some crazy-haired lady having a freak.

I called back to the Home Depot in Fort Saskatchewan with my heart in my throat. The lady on the other end is very obliging and comforting. She went outside, while on the phone, to see if she could find it. No luck. A few minutes more and she went in to ask at customer service if it had shown up and there it was. Some one had returned it into the store. My heart started beating again and I calmed down considerably. I sincerely hoped that everything (wallet, camera, etc.) was still in it.

So we headed back in the opposite direction, after many hours of travel to retrieve "The Shield". No early bed time or laundry getting done anywhere on the horizon. As we were driving I started to realize that this was not the worst thing in the entire world, though it certainly was the icing on the cake of a really long day. I apologized to my family for the extra hour of driving that I had brought about. I also started thinking about other people in my life who are facing extreme challenges; a friend grieving the loss of her husband, two friends battling cancer, relationship struggles, depression, and addictions. These thoughts brought perspective to my day. In that moment the world no longer revolved around me and this tiny blip. I was safe, with my family, sending up some prayers for people I care about while looking at a rainbow in the sky.

"The Shield" was retrieved intact though a little soggy. We made it home about sixteen hours after we started our journey and the kids were laughing in the back seat. I had to laugh too. My plans had been foiled but what are my plans anyway in the big scheme of things?

Emma

2010-07-12T11:52:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months I have been reading Jane Austen's six novels. I have been reading Emma for about a month now and I am having a really hard time getting through it. The other five were a delight and I ate up the pages like they were chocolate (one of my other favorite things!). Austen has a way of capturing the essence of humans in all their glory and folly. Even though she wrote her novels over two hundred years ago there have been times in my reading when I have exclaimed to myself, "I know someone who is exactly like that!!" She really understands human nature and character. I think that why I'm having such a hard time with Emma is because the person that I see reflected in Emma's strengths and weaknesses is myself.

For those of you who haven't read Emma I will give you a picture of her character. She is rich, spoiled, bored, self-absorbed, kind, compassionate, jealous, opinionated, full of passion, eager to please, gifted, judgemental, prideful, caring, family-oriented, sweet, witty, willing to try new things, helpful and intelligent. These are the most obvious traits of Emma's character but as you can see from the list, Emma is a complicated and somewhat contradictory young woman. Throughout the novel, Emma's world is deconstructed. The things that she thought she knew, her life's philosophy, how she viewed people and made judgements are all knocked off their axis. The one constant in her life, is a life-long neighbor and friend, Mr. Knightley. He is often the one who questions Emma's motives or the governing principles that she lives by. He loves her when her faults are obvious and blaring and when the goodness, that really is there, shines out. He is a teacher who can see both sides of Emma and pull the goodness out of her. His constancy, wisdom and faithfulness are beacons to Emma's wayward and stubborn willfulness. They are polar opposites in every respect.

I have a polar opposite too. God. Reading this novel has made that very obvious to me. I feel like I'm being deconstructed too. I'll try to describe what I mean by that.... it's about unlearning habits that keep me stuck, it's about unlearning ways of thinking that have been bookmarked for my entire life and keep me from seeing people without judgement, and it's about unlearning man-made ideas of what it means to live a life of faith. I'm not saying that I have this all figured out or that I ever will or that the deconstruction will ever end but there is hope in the midst of it all. I have a constant, my polar opposite, my friend. His goodness is my beacon. His love, my anchor. His character, my standard.

In Between the Photo-Ops

2010-06-26T07:28:00.000-07:00

Note: This is actually a speech that I wrote for Jarvie's Grad Nine Prom three years ago. The ten kids that I had the privilege of speaking to three years ago are graduating from high school today and I would like to share the same words with them and you today. Happy Graduation! I am so excited to do the Invocation at your ceremonies this afternoon too, what an honor!

Good evening students, teachers, parents, family, friends and honored Grade 9 graduates. I count it a privilege to have the opportunity to speak to you all this evening. I have titled my thoughts, in Between the Photo-ops. Before we get too far, I think I should give a brief definition of the word photo-op. A photo-op is a prime opportunity for pictures to be taken. Photo-ops often center around important events and each of our lives have many opportunities for these moments to take place.

The day that each of us were born was the very first photo-op. If you have a photo album of your life this is always the first picture that you will see. From that moment on, the album is full of other photo-op events such as your first steps, riding a bike for the first time, your first day of school...lunch bag in hand, your first school Christmas concert, piano recitals, hockey team pictures, your grade 9 prom, your first time behind the wheel, your wedding day, the births of your children, family vacations, special birthdays and anniversaries and eventually the retirement party.

If we were to look through the photo album of your life it would be filled with accomplishments and achievements of the things that you have been involved in or have had the chance to do. Theses events are important and worth taking a picture of but I would venture to say that 99% of our lives are lived in between the photo-ops. If this is true, what can we learn about life? If only 1% of our lives make up the special days that are definitely worth noting, the other 99% should be given specific energy and effort and even more notice by us. What I mean by this is that the kind of people that we are and that we practice being everyday may never end up in the photo album but this is a more accurate picture of who we really are. Every person has gifts and abilities that are unique to them. Every person's 99% will look different. We are faced with a choice, will we use our gifts and abilities to our own end or will we create a legacy that can truly change the world around us? At the end of your life will you be remembered for the fancy truck that you drove or that you were kind and lived generously? Will you be remembered for the doctorate degree that you earned or that you shared you life by serving others? Will you be remembered for the super model that you married or that you loved deeply and found joy in your family? The 99% in between the photo-ops is what you will be remembered for, even though there may not be a picture in the album to go with it.

I do not know what your specific future photo-ops will be, graduates, but I have caught glimpses, over the past three years, of the people that you will become if you are committed to continue learning and practicing the gifts and abilities that make you who you are.

Krissy...whenever I see you, the word that comes to my mind is confident. The way that you speak and act displays the fact that you know who you are and what you stand for, and you will not back down without a fight. Use your confidence in a way that will nurture it in others. This is a quality that seems to be lacking in the world we live in today. You can make a difference by modelling confidence to those around you.

Clayton...I have watched you mature and change over the past three years but one quality i see in you that has been a constant is your respect for others. i know that this is something that you have been taught from a young age, but you have turned knowledge into wisdom because you practice it in your life. Thank you for the chance to meet someone that is genuine in their respect for others. Continue sharing this quality with those around you, you can make a difference.

Keeley...I know that life has been full of ups and downs for you, but through everything you have continued to smile and see the world as a place that needs what you have to offer, which is kindness and compassion. Please continue to grow and develop these gifts, the world is full of needy people that are aching for the human touch. You have much to offer.

Damaris...your grace and inner peace have been an example to me that no matter a person's age, you can have an understanding of how things are really supposed to be. I picture you when you are old and grey and I am awed by the woman that you will become because you have figured out what many of us still do not understand. Do not be afraid or timid to share this with those around you. When you share what is in your heart, people will melt!

Shawn...I have never, in all my years working with young people, met someone who wants to be heard as much as you do. I remember Heroes class and the frantic waving that always seemed to come from your corner of the classroom. I consider this quality of great value. You will have a chance to be heard everyday by every person that you come in contact with. What you do with the words that you speak can truly change the course of people's lives. Words are powerful, learn to use them in a way that will encourage and offer life to those around you.

Becca...The official tally is in... no one gives as many quality hugs as you do. You win! You wear your heart on your sleeve and it is a kind that embraces others and makes them feel valued. in the society that we live in there is a grave shortage of people who are not afraid to be vulnerable and show true affection. Love truly can change others, I know that you will continue to shower others with what flows out of you naturally.

Lindsey...Your bubbly spirit and your willingness to try new things are an inspiration to many. You have a zest for life and rarely have I seen you sitting still. I see you as a people carpenter. The things that you have had the opportunity to learn are the tools that can build people up. Use your energy to make a difference in the lives of those around you.

Randy... I believe that you are just beginning to see your potential as a musician. I am married to a drummer. I know that one of Jeremy 's qualities is that he is steady, not only can he pound out a steady beat, but he is loyal and honest and isn't blown by every wind. I see these qualities in you as well. you are cut from a different cloth than most. Your gifts are easily shared through the avenue of music. Don't be afraid to add your heart as well. I look forward to seeing how you will find your way.

Caitlin...Sorrow has given you a maturity beyond your years. You have the gift of being able to read people and their intentions and motives. I have watched as compassion and an awareness of others has blossomed in you. Continue to share everything that you are and are becoming even at the risk of pain and loss. You are a gem that is being buffed and polished, I know that you will continue to shine.

Sofia...you possess a quality that people all over the world need to embrace. You are one of the rare individuals that know how to be comfortable in their own skin. You are yourself in every situation. You never try to impress or show off. You do not look for praise or recognition, though you deserve it. I find that people that don't want to be noticed are often the people that I should notice. They quietly live their lives and are willing to help others without getting a medal. Continue to serve and give to others, and people's lives will be changed forever.

On this photo-op day of your graduation from grade 9 (and grade 12), I would like you to take a moment to think about how you will live your life tomorrow, and the days after that until your next photo-op day. Each one of us here this evening has much to offer the world around us through the use of our gifts and abilities. In a world of poverty, war, loss, suffering, greed, terrorism, racism, striving and injustice; we can be the change that we want to see by using our 99% to be generous, make peace, and show mercy. We can be givers of our time, energy and resources. We can stand for justice. We can hope and dream about how our lives can and will be significant in the lives of others. This is the kind of life worth living and that will be honored at the end of our days. I believe in you, graduates. i know that you can and will become world-changers. live your life in between the photo-ops to the fullest; invest it in the lives of others. Thank you.

Another note: This will be my last post for a couple of weeks...I am taking a road trip with the family to soggy Saskatchewan! Oh, happy summer!! Peace!

Weeds

2010-06-21T16:48:00.000-07:00

I spent the better part of my afternoon rouging my lawn of thistles. They are nasty little guys, especially if you're wearing sandals. I actually kind of enjoyed the weeding though, even the prickles that poked through my leather gloves on occasion couldn't get me down. I think that knowing that when I am finished having a thistle free lawn is going to be an improvement. We just planted grass around our house this spring and I have to say that it really isn't a beautiful sight to behold at the present. There are weeds everywhere and I am trying to battle them by my sweat. I know most of you would probably tell me that there are weed killers out there, and that I am wasting my sweat and breaking my back when I could spray them and be done with it. Weeds have always been painted in a bad light. They have got a bad rap and rightly so in most cases. I've been doing some research about organic lawns and they say the trick is to know which ones to battle against with the sweat and which ones can be dealt with by encouraging your grass to choke them out all by themselves! This is an exciting thought to me, the organic lawn grower! There is "possibly" something more beautiful to be seen than the present state of my weed/lawn!

I've had all afternoon to think about weeds and have come to some conclusions. We all have weeds in our lives. Sometimes we can see them lurking around in the corners, hanging out, multiplying, growing, getting bigger, looking ugly. Sometimes the weeds have blended in so well with the grass that we forget about them until our weed causes someone else pain. Some weeds need to be dealt with head on and yanked out, others can be dealt with and choked out by practicing a different, healthy habit. Whatever the weed and whatever way you choose to deal with them at some point you are going to need to face them. When you do, don't give them a chance to grow back. Keep fertilizing your life by practicing things like love, kindness, patience, tolerance, compassion, gratitude, generosity, loyalty, joy, and honesty. Life is about the practicing. This week pick something to practice. I'm choosing gratitude because I've seen the complaining weed poking around lately. Instead of complaining I am going to choose to think and say things out of gratefulness. I'll let you all know how that goes!! I'd love to hear how you battle your weeds too! As Red Green would say "We're all in this together!" Thanks for reading.....

Cheering Section

2010-06-18T09:56:00.000-07:00

I don't know if any of you have ever had the privilege of being at Taylor Field, home of the Saskatchewan Roughriders, during a home game. Being a part of the sea of green is an experience to say the least. The intensity and passion that these fans display is pretty amazing! I believe that if you are not a Roughrider fan, you kind of want to be one after you've been to one of their games in front of their home crowd. Riders fans are known to do crazy things for their team; picture watermelons on heads??!! One thing that Riders fans do best is cheer on their team. They are loud and loyal, travelling all across this country to do it! The past couple seasons have been great for the Riders, but it hasn't always been so. Even when there have been pretty huge disappointments season after season, Taylor field still gets packed out loss after loss. The message this sends is that Rider fans are behind their team no matter what.

I had a conversation with my Dad awhile back, one that we had never had. Not that I can recall anyway. In the conversation, my Dad told me that he was proud of the woman that I had become. He saw good in me. He saw growth. He saw that what I believed, I lived out. These words were a high point for me. I have remembered this talk this week in particular because I haven't felt that there is much good in me these last few days.

It's been one of those weeks of self-reflection and honest words from others. Just when I was getting used to the idea that my pride had been given a few knocks, it got a few more punches! Isn't that how it goes sometimes? You feel like you're growing and changing and then you are enlightened to truth once again and the facts that say, "Not so fast there, Girl! You still have a long way to go!". Those words were not welcomed! They really stressed me out for a few days while I dealt with the pain and the realization, once again, that I suck and that I need to keep being honest about how I treat others and speak about things. I don't think I would have been able to handle the harsh words though without knowing that there are people in my cheering section. People like my Dad, who know me and my heart. Who celebrate with me when I succeed and encourage me not to give up when things get tough. We all need a cheering section, the go-to people who are faithful to see us through the good and the not so pretty and love us no matter what. We also need to be some one's cheering section too! To be the people who are there and who speak truth with love all over it. It makes the pride pill easier to swallow, trust me.

Running

2010-06-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

I am not a runner. I guess you could say that I am not a fan. I would rather run after a soccer ball for hours than run down a road. I think another part of my distaste might be that the only time that I could possibly go for a run without children would be at 5:30 in the morning!! I don't see that happening anytime soon. My husband, on the other hand, loves to run. But he also has a pretty major glitch when it comes to actually doing it. It is physically painful to him.

Jeremy lost his right leg to cancer when he was seventeen years old. Running since then has been something that he has longed to do. I remember him telling me that one of the last things he did with two legs was to go for a run. I can't imagine wanting to do something so badly and feeling nothing but pain if I tried to do it. Something that I take for granted and don't even want to do, he would enjoy so much. I think about Terry Fox often and about how every step he took in his journey must have been agony. Every step jarring and bruising because the prosthetic leg that he wore was never meant for running.

This morning I received a phone call from Jeremy's prosthetist telling us that War Amps has approved funding for a running leg for Jeremy. I almost dropped the phone! The running leg is worth thousands of dollars! This is a dream, one that seemed impossible this side of heaven, coming true. Jeremy will get to run, like the wind, again...with freedom and without pain. I am in awe of this gift.

I am glad that I can still feel awe and wonder. I know that as I watch Jeremy disappear down the road, running his little heart out, I will be feeling these things every time. It might even inspire me to join him, even in the middle of the night!!

Horizons

2010-06-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

I have this amazing and beautiful friend, Tatum. From the moment I met her fourteen summers ago, I have been inspired by the beauty that she creates and the way that she lives her life. She embraces it full on with compassion, humor, faith and wit. She writes funny notes, wears unique clothes, loves two little boys (and one big one!), listens to great music, embraces culture, tries to cook (he, he) and expresses her creativity with a camera. She is a photographer, business woman, wife, mother, and friend. Today as I read her blog and looked at her latest photos, I was inspired once again by the way she can capture a person's essence, charm and brilliance.

She has been struggling over the past few weeks to photograph grad students in the rain. Every time she's been scheduled to do a grad session the weather has not been cooperating....very frustrating to a photographer! But you should see what has come out of the struggle! Umbrellas, ominous clouds, breathtaking greenery, and truly unique photos celebrating this milestone in life. One photo in particular struck me. It is of a young man in a suit, standing on the railway tracks with these huge gray clouds hovering on the horizon.

We never really know where life is going to take us or what's in store. Sometimes the horizon looks like it's going to be smooth sailing...calm, peaceful, cloudless blue stretching for miles. The kind of skies that you can only see in the prairies. Other times you can see the approaching thunderheads and you tremble at what that cloud could bring into your life. But what I have realized today is that sometimes the most beautiful part of life, the improvisation and the creativity are brought to the surface when the storms are looming and the rain is soaking. Thank you dear friend for showing me, again, what to do with the mud and the muck that storms bring.... roll up the sleeves, put on the creative cap and make something beautiful in the middle of the mess.

Check out Tatum's blog and her gorgeous photos by clicking on Paper Moon Photography under my list of blogs or click on this link: http://www.papermoonphotography.com/blog/

Me = Chicken

2010-06-08T09:35:00.000-07:00

I am a chicken. I don't have feathers, I don't cluck, and I most definitely am not up with the dawn but I am a chicken. There are times when I am the biggest coward. For me, I think cowardice looks like pride. My chicken likeness rears it's head when I need to admit that I am wrong, don't know everything, or apologize. I had to write an e-mail today that was an apology and I had been putting it off for forever. The knowing that I needed to make amends was lurking around in the back of my mind for at least a couple of months and during a conversation yesterday I felt the urge to finally face it. So, this morning I wrote the email. No excuses included. Heart in throat. Sorry said. Forgiveness asked for. Now I wait.

Pride is a facade. It lets me remain smug in the face of conviction. It covers the hurts inflicted by others with the appearance of strength. Even while my own heart breaks. It puts a smile on my face and words in my mouth that I don't really feel or even want to say. It allows me to think, if only for awhile, that I can avoid owning up to the pain that I cause others. This wall of pride needs to crumble a lot more often. It is easy to hide behind it. It is hard to break the wall down and be real with people. It's difficult to admit that I am wrong. It's humbling to ask for forgiveness. But I don't want pride to be what people see when they see me.

People who are truly great are servants.

People that leave an imprint in our lives are givers.

People that impact the world are humble.

People that are worth following know how to admit weakness.

People that are truly famous never sought fame.

These people live life without pride.

These people are not chickens.

Two Thumbs Up

2010-06-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

I am a rater. If you ask my husband, he would tell you that I am heartless and cruel in my rants of things that I detest and that I am a gusher about things that I adore. I rate everything. My children's behavior on any given day. How my sleep was last night. If I thought the cashier was friendly at the grocery store. The play list on the radio. How supper turned out. The sermon at church. How clean the bathroom was at the gas station. How comfortable my shoes are. Who's the smartest, most talented, most gorgeous? How my hair looks. How other people's hair looks. How the garden is growing. How people drive. How people talk. How people walk. And so on and so forth, ad nauseum. This is my self-imposed exhaustion. Why have I taken it upon myself to determine and comment on EVERYTHING? Who cares that I think about the weather, or that outfit, or that book? Is it really what I think anyway?

I have been taught to rate by watching American Idol. I am prompted to rate other people's comments on facebook with the little word "like" that I can click on with my mouse. I can rate this very blog by adding how many stars I think it deserves. I almost can't help myself...it's so fun to share my opinion with the world! How much is my opinion of things based on what I really love or what I have been trained to believe about things. Here's the scenario... standards of what is acceptable and excellent have already been set by the world that we live in. If I watch TV, read a magazine, look at advertisements, flip through a newspaper or listen to the radio I have a picture of what my relationships should be like, what I should wear, what I should buy, what I should read, what I should listen to, what activities I should do, who I should vote for, what my bank account should look like, where I should travel and what I should eat. Is any of this really coming from people who give a rip about who I am? Why do whoever "they" are want me to become a robot clone? Doing, thinking, and acting how they propose as the most beneficial? For whom?

I have decided that all this evaluating is robbing me of the enjoyment of the little things and has isolated me from truly understanding other people's perspectives. Rating has taken away my ability to achieve or underachieve at my leisure. It has stolen my freedom to create something that others may think sucks, but means something to me. It has hindered me from seeing past the exterior to see what really matters; character. It has stolen my courage to try things and fail miserably.

I give breaking this habit of rating things two thumbs up.

Kite

2010-06-03T08:52:00.000-07:00

There are some things that I loved doing as a kid that, now since I have children of my own, I get to do again. Things like swinging as high as I possibly can, coloring in a coloring book, cutting out a paper snowflake, reading the Bobbsey Twins, driving cars in the sandbox, jumping in a puddle, watching Charlie Brown cartoons, looking for "special " rocks and flying a kite. I get to relive those memories of my childhood with a spin on them... my own kids love the same kinds of things that I did (and still do!). Elle really loves flying kites. This is one of the activities that she will ask to do because she knows that we will all go and stand in the field by our house and play together.

Kites are funny things. Maybe your kite flying skills are better than mine, but I can rarely get the kite up into the breeze without someone throwing it up and me running like mad, tightening the slack on the string, hoping that the wind cooperates at that exact moment. It's a tricky sequence to master, especially by yourself. Meanwhile, the five-year-old is tapping her little foot, hands on hips, waiting for Mom to finally get it together!

Kites are kind of like life.
Sometimes your kite soars.
Sometimes your kite dips and dives.
Sometimes your kite holds steady, proud and flapping in the gale.
Sometimes your kite dramatically crashes.
Sometimes your kite's string gets tangled around someone elses kite string.
Sometimes your kite is so high you can barely see it.
Sometimes your kite just won't fly at all, no matter how hard you try.
Sometimes you lose your kite and have to go find it.
Sometimes your kite gets caught in trees.
Sometimes your kite breaks.
But flying your kite is always an adventure, no matter what happens, because you get to share the experience with people you love.

Contained

2010-05-31T16:54:00.000-07:00

I have a drawer filled with Tupperware and it's cheap knock-off cousins. I'm sure you have one too. All those containers have to end up somewhere. The drawer itself is a mess. I have tried many times to organize it but alas I am not the sole inhabitant of this abode. So, the Tupperware gets literally thrown into a drawer by the fridge anticipating whatever delightful culinary left-overs get dished into them. As much as containing the containers annoys me, the plastic mountain is very useful.

Humans, in general, are really great at containing and compartmentalizing everything. Everything has it's place and we like it that way. Books on the book shelf. Toys in the toy box. Clothes in the closet. Cars parked in lots. Papers in a filing cabinet. Canned goods in the pantry. Children in desks. Adults in cubicles. Everything and everyone doing what's expected. We have excelled greatly in our organization, order and structure of both inanimate objects as well as our lives. This system of containing things has spread into our thoughts, beliefs and feelings more than we realize. So much so that when life gets messy and the compartmentalized aspects of our lives get dumped out we can't make sense out of the chaos. I think it's because our containers rarely touch each other. Our container of faith does not touch our container of reason. Our container of love does not touch our container of social activism. Our container of grief does not touch our container of vulnerability. Our container of compassion does not touch our container of self-preservation. Our container of justice does not touch our container of pride. This is unreality. No wonder we are often in a tailspin when the poo hits the fan or when we are faced with something out of our control. We have not practiced opening our containers and creating something beautiful in the mixing bowl of our lives. This takes work, creativity and a letting go of ways and systems that have bound us and have reduced our ability to impact. It is an embracing of chaos, which might sound scary but is ultimately freeing.

When I stopped trying to contain the Tupperware containers in my drawer, I felt free. They are a big, happy disaster and when I see them all hanging out in there I have a picture of how every part of my life needs to connect and touch the other parts for it make sense. Faith and reason holding hands. Love changing poverty, cancer, AIDS, the environment. Sharing grief and pain with people who have been there. Feeling the cost of giving of ourselves for someone else. Start dumping. Make a mess! See what happens.

Is True Life...

2010-05-29T12:03:00.000-07:00

Here's a poem for a rainy day. I wrote this many years ago and thought I would share it with you. Would love to hear what you think true life is all about.

Is true life....

In the complexity of roses

Or the simplicity of daisies?

In plain black and white

Or vivid illustrations?

In a homogeneous script

Or a personalized notebook?

In a cold douse of reality

Or a hot bath of dreams?

Is true life...

In just three simple wishes

Or a single kiss goodnight?
In a monument of stone
Or a fraction of light?
In nine essential nutrients

Or eleven herbs and spices?

In the struggle of a woman

Or the innocence of a girl?

Is true life...

In all we understand

Or the intrigue of mystery?

In a distant horizon

Or a place called home?

In a heart unscathed

Or one that's been broken?

In unwrinkled perfection

Or the laugh lines of character?

Is true life...

In the bliss of ignorance

Or the wealth of knowledge?

In Versace ballgowns

Or flannel pajamas?

In the frame surrounding

Or the picture inside?

In the memory of history

Or the hope for tomorrow?

Is true life...

In the dirge of those forgotten

Or the first cries of new birth?

In rare, untasted delicacies

Or chicken soup for the soul?

In the breaking of the dawn

Or the stillness of the night?

In knowing all the answers

Or asking endless questions?

Duplicity

2010-05-25T10:04:00.000-07:00

Canadians are politically correct, polite and duplicitous.

I am Canadian.

I had a conversation with a friend from Holland, who now lives here in Canada and who is also a Princess Diana look a like, the other day about how strange it seems to her that we have been taught to cover what we really think and feel with the blanket of political correctness. In my experience with Dutch people, they are direct, honest and don't beat around the bush. If something's on their mind, they say it and get it out there. THIS is refreshing to me! I can see how crazy we, Canadians, must seem to them. At the risk of possibly offending we have become dishonest. Was that the intention of playing nice? Dishonesty? We become different people when in different environments. Master chameleons, blending in instead of standing up for what we think, feel, believe, and are passionate about. The result? Duplicity and mediocrity. People who are different or who approach life honestly, with real emotion and passion, in our minds are weird.

Last night I went for a walk with my kids. After taking only a few steps I had a small stone in my left shoe. I left it there on purpose. Why, you might ask? Not because I enjoy self-inflicted pain or because I thought it may be an enjoyable experience to walk a mile down the road with a rock in my shoe. I did it to feel. Feel something....anything.

Discomfort.

Pain.

Annoyance.

Frustration.

Distraction.

I think one of the results of our duplicity is that we have become numb to what pain feels like and when we feel even the slightest hint of it, we shut it down and we fill that space where pain is supposed to be felt with things like food, shopping, drugs, entertainment, diets, alcohol, exercise programs, achievements, possessions, travel, and money. Pain must be avoided at all costs. We cannot be honest about either our pain or the ways we numb it because there are not to many people out there that will listen or care. Real people have real pain because that's real life. Pain is shocking and messy. If we had the freedom to let out the hurt, the doubts, the disappointments, the anguish of life's real problems without judgement, life would have hope for a lot more people. You have pain. Can you feel it? Can you be honest about it? Every person you know has pain. Can you listen to it without judgement? Can you encourage them to feel it?

If you can't, put a stone in your shoe and walk.

Smile

2010-05-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was reminded of a silly game that my Mom and I used to play in busy, public places while we were waiting for my Dad. We spent a lot of time waiting for my Dad (he likes to talk a lot) so this game kind of evolved as we played and as we got more into it. My Mom and I became chronic people watchers out of sheer boredom. This game took people watching to the next level; interaction with the people we were watching. The sole object of the game was to get people passing by to smile at us by smiling at them. We would get one point for every smile, an extra point if someone actually talked to us and a landslide win by me if I got a phone number from a cute guy (that never happened!!)! So, you sit there with a crazy grin on your face, looking a little, or lot, "simple" and let the games begin. Crazy and kind of foolish, I know, (there are crazies out there!) but I enjoyed this game. It was challenging, interesting and had a vulnerable element because eye contact and smiling go together! Babies and kids were the easiest to get points out of. Women and senior citizens being more of a challenge. Men and teenagers being the hardest eggs to crack. I remember talking with my Mom about the people and what we thought was going through their heads as they walked past and saw us smiling at them like they had something on their face or their fly was undone! We would analyze why people wouldn't smile back, never taking it personally if they didn't but just wondering what those people were really like. You can tell a lot about people by how easy they return the gesture or if they even notice two crazy people trying to break into their world with nothing but a smile.

I've heard it a million times about how it takes more facial muscles to frown than to smile but have never been into smiling because of the facial work-out. Smiling is just a wonderful thing to do, especially since I am also a famed "crier". My smiling balances out the crying!! A smile, a smirk, a grin, a simper can say so many different things. Even a half-hearted, slight, turn-up-at-the-corners-of-a-mouth communicates something. As does the frown! If we knew what our face was communicating to people would we be surprised? I imagine having a video camera trained on my face for an hour and wonder what that camera would capture. How often do I crack a smile? Once or twice? How often am I looking displeased? I think probably a lot....that's my 'Mama means business" face'. I have the frown wrinkle to prove it. How much of the time am I just neutral, not communicating anything? If I knew what my face was telling the world I think I would be playing the game more often and would be making that simple gesture of joy and cheerfulness a part of my daily repertoire.

If you've never thought about what your smile is saying, think about it the next time someone is grinning their little heart out at you! Smiling invites people, even strangers, into your life for a moment. The thing that you may never know is what that moment may mean to them.

Smile.

(Tres important side note: I'm officially hooked. This whole blogging thing is super fun. I'm pretty sure I could write everyday but my house would be even more of a disaster than it is and my children would be eating peanut butter sandwiches for the rest of their lives!! That said, thank you for reading. It is so awesome to know that really special people are reading this blog. Thank you for your comments....feedback is great too!)

Skills

2010-05-19T11:18:00.000-07:00

Life requires skills. Some skills are learned, some are common sense, some are inherent. (The word 'skills' always makes me giggle. I think of Napoleon Dynamite and "nun chuck skills".) The more skills you acquire the better you can survive whatever crazy thing life throws at you. I have been creating a list for quite some time of all the skills required and knowledge needed for a day in the life of me as mother, wife, and friend. Some I have mastered, others not so much, but I am a work in progress. Maybe you can relate to my list of Things a girl should know...

1. How to change a tire on the side of the road.
2. How to sing a couple of lullabies.
3. How to read a map without GPS assistance and actually get where you need to go.
4. How to bake and decorate a cake that meets the critical approval of a five year old.
5. How to laugh at PMS and other unfortunate but realistic happenings!
6. How to cook an edible turkey dinner and get it all on the table at the same time.
7. How to make a paper airplane that actually flies.
8. How to identify a nit and an adult louse....ewwww!
9. How to both entertain children while driving and keep your husband sane.
10. How to produce important documents from wherever they may have been placed, out of thin air and at any given moment. Note: Every document is important at some time!
11. How to plant and care for a garden.
12. How to fly a kite.
13. How to iron a shirt, a dress, and pants.
14. How to back seat drive without being too obvious.
15. How to forgive.
16. How to dance, if not gracefully or skillfully, with enthusiasm!
17. How to bake bread.
18. How to tell a good story without the word "like".
19. Know where to go when you need a good cry or a good laugh.
20. How to make an excellent pot of coffee or tea.
21. How to use a drill and other power tools.
22. How to throw a party where your guests have fun!
23. How to walk in heels.
24. How to give a massage.
25. How to tie up skates.
26. Know the birthdays, anniversaries, special days of your in-laws.
27. How to get to the emergency room...safely.
28. How to find good deals.
29. How not to complain.
30. How to throw a football.
31. Know the words to "O Canada".
32. How to bandage a wound.
33. How to change a diaper ...anywhere.
34. How to write a thank you note.
35. How to give and take a compliment.
36. How to get through a formal dinner without looking like a bumpkin!
37. How to take care of a pet.
38. How to be two places at once.
39. How to get stains out of clothes.
40. How to hang a picture.
41. How to cut the hair two year-old in five minutes or less!
42. How to use a "bear banger".
43. How to find time for yourself when you need it.
44. How to make grumpy kids and husband laugh.
45. How to be sympathetic and caring when you don't really feel like it.
46. How to make a fire and roast a marshmallow.
47. How to buy a great, thoughtful gift.
48. How to write a letter without using a technical device.
49. How to create something scrumptious without ingredients from a box or can.
50. How to share and enjoy the beauty of LIFE!
This list is fluid and organic. It is ever changing and morphing as I practice and hone my skills and as the needs of those around me change as well. All of this to say that skills are important but my greatest skill will be the mastering of #50. If I can inspire and encourage others to truly see that this life is beautiful and worth living, I have succeeded!

X-ray Soul

2010-05-15T16:39:00.000-07:00

We have this friend, Jonathan, he's from North Carolina and he's an arborist. Doesn't that just sound so interesting? It kind of rolls off your tongue in a nice, smooth way... arborist. Arborist. For those of you who like saying that word too but don't know what it means, I'll give you the definition a la Lisa: a guy that knows tonnes about the care and maintenance of trees and who can "safely" trim, prune, and/or cut down a tree without it landing in your living room. (Think I could get a job with them there dictionary people?) Anyway, Jonathan is coming over in a little while to cut down two huge poplar trees in our yard. One is completly dead and the other looks healthy but is rotting on the inside. That is the tree that intrigues me. It looks so healthy with baby spring leaves all over it but soon it will be dead and crashing into our house! How can something that appears to be thriving on the outside be dying on the inside?

If you could somehow get a hold of Superman's x-ray vision for a day and look deep into people's souls, I am pretty sure that you would see soul "rot". Soul "rot" being the things that people carry around on the inside that is sucking the life right out of them. Anger, sadness, lonliness, bitterness, hatred, and rejection are all signs of this condition. Yet people appear healthy on the outside. They go about life but it's just hollow. They don't smile much. They don't sing in the shower. The sunset is just another sunset. The glass is half empty. Nights are long and sleepless. Everything is stressful. Being with people often aggravates the symptoms. I know this disease afflicts everyone, myself included, at times. But what's the treatment?

Something I have learned is that sometimes the simplest things can be the best medicine. Soul "rot", for the most part, is a selfish disease. Somehow I think that I deserve to feel the way I do and that I can take out my frustrations on those around me. The cure is to serve, to think about someone else and get my mind off my own junk! When we can see someone else's struggle and think of things we can do to alleviate it, we are getting rid of our own soul "rot" too. Funny how that works.

Sleeplessness

2010-05-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

I'm hording sparkly moments
And storing them away
So I can run them through my mind's eye
On any rainy day

My chest of treasures overflows
And crowds out the sleepy haze
That longs to lead me into forgetful slumber
Far from this happy place

Baubles of laughter
Sapphires of embrace
Chains of friendship
Pearls of understanding
Rubies of kindness
Emeralds of beauty
Diamonds of faith

Entranced, I finger each gem
And tuck them into my fleeting memory
Where if only in this sleepless vapor
I have cherished today

The Virgin Blog

2010-05-07T09:48:00.000-07:00

The first time...
Am I nervous? check.
Am I intimidated by all the amazing bloggers out there? check.
Am I ecstatically excited? check.
Am I hoping that more people than my mama will read this? check.
Should I get on with it? check!
Do I have anything to say? hmmm...

Rock Star....
I was at a get-together awhile ago and all the people that were there were asked this question; "If time and money were no object, what would you be doing with your life?" Most people talked about going to amazing travel destinations and spending more time with their loved ones (very important stuff!). I said that I would be a rock star. That got a laugh. I think most people thought that I wasn't serious.... but I really was. It's a dream of course.... but it's also a culmination. The end product of years of practicing and sharing my musical talent, an outlet for the songs that I've written, and a purpose for this crazy head of hair! Why can't I? That's the question that has plagued me since. Why can't I? Why I can't is the reality that's been kicking me around. At 33 years old, with 2 young kids, the mountain of reasons why I can't seems insurmountable. Here's the partial...
I am too old
I'm not good enough
my family needs me
I live in the sticks!
I don't have connections
Would anyone come to my show?
Money!!??
Time
This list is so lame to me. At 80 years old, will I regret it if that mountain was never attempted? So, I write, I compose, I edit, I scream (definitely for "rock star" practice), I live (that's where the songs come from) and my husband is finishing the basement so we can record album #2! Rock stardom, to me, is my attempt at disciplining myself and my art and working towards something.
Will anyone care that I have attempted to climb my mountain? Maybe not anyone but myself. But, at 80 I will say, "I was a rock star!". It may not be in the classical definition of all that entails, but it's about using my gifts, my life to try something that seems out of reach, to do it! Really do it and say something important along the way. What's your impossible dream and what are you doing to climb your mountain?