it's beginning to look a lot like

this afternoon an untold number of Christmas boxes threw up inside my house, and, after wading through the nastiness, i have emerged victorious!  my little tree is twinkling beautifully, three wreaths hung, little doodads and pine thingamagigies nestled in the nooks and crannies.  and my hearth is blanketed in white lights and evergreen boughs (fake!  don't get too excited) and a beautiful little nativity scene given to me by my mother-in-law.  it's perfect.  i so look forward to decorating, and then for an hour or so in the middle i want to light everything on fire, and then at the end i'm glowing!  ah, the evolution of change.

it's been a good week.  i've painted quite a bit - even daring to pick up the brushes for a few minutes here and there when my kids were around.  i went on another silent retreat this weekend, and (growth!) wasn't scared by the hours of not-talking looming ahead of me.  i can't say i was looking forward to it, but at least i wasn't dreading it. :)  baby steps.

i'm getting more comfortable with my yeast-free, sugar-reduced diet. i've started planning out really yummy things to enjoy to get me through the week.  for example, i made spiced squash and carrot muffins with gouda (except i went cheap and used cheddar) today, and i splurged on raspberries and pepper boursin.  i will survive!  one thing is for sure, if i'm giving up bread and dessert i'm NOT giving up fat.
more butter, please.

during one of my (silent) prayer times this weekend i paraphrased another passage from the Bible, and thought i'd share it with you.  once again, i find myself in a space needing to let go and trust in God's goodness, faithfulness, and competence.  my husband recently described Christian growth as a spiralling ascent up a mountain - you're moving upwards, but you keep coming around to the same stuff again and again.  hopefully, you hit it from a different angle each time, and can see how this time you're a little bit different, a little further ahead, a little more healed. 
still, it sucks to turn the corner and see the same issue starring you in the face again.  there is a little encouragment in knowing it's a common human experience.  a little.

Isaiah 64:6-8
                                                       we've all become dirty.
all all our 'rightness' we use to clean ourselves up
  makes things worse
                                pollutes us

like a decaying leaf, holding on by a thread
             sin comes and easily blows us away.

because we look to ourselves instead of to you
we don't rouse ourselves to take hold of what you offer

(i'd rather sleep than seek)

you're hard to find,
     so i'd rather melt into my sin
                and be formed by it
                                                instead.

But now,
     Lord, my God and Saviour,
     You are my Father;
 I will be a lump of dirt (still!)
    but I will be in Your hands
        and You will work on me.

You will work on us all.

homeland

i think i've figured it out.

a week ago i woke up, stumbled out of bed, began walking down the stairs and noticed something different out of the corner of my eye.  i turned my head to look out the window and stopped dead in my tracks.  mountains.  we had arrived at our place in canmore the night before, so i was unprepared for the realization that we were living for a week on the side of a mountain, surrounded by the opening credits of the sound of music.  it was breathtaking.  huge rock faces, incredible sunsets, mists that would obscure entire mountain ranges, and then dissipate like mountain peek-a-boo. 

having lived the last seventeen years in British Columbia i anticipated some nostalgia.  some wistful home-coming feeling.  but no.  i looked at those mountains and saw the immense beauty, and felt completely other.  i can marginaly understand why someone would look at a mountain and desire to climb it, but for me it evokes weariness, pain, carnage, fear...need i go on?  the mountains are not my home.

i started thinking about the ocean.  the ocean is where scott feels at home - it's in his bones i guess, being born in victoria and living by the ocean for most of his life.  when i look at the ocean i'm overwhelmed with it's vastness, i love the sound of the waves on the shore, i feel inspired to think of all those songs and psalms that speak of God's love and faithfulness as an ocean.  but, again, it's too much for me to comprehend.  the tide scares me.  the threat of sharks.  seriously.  the idea that i could swim for the rest of my life and not reach the other side (because i would die within a day i'm sure).  the ocean is not my home.

i got behind the wheel of our van on Monday, driving home.  we had spent a lovely night with friends in New Sarepta.  i was stuffed full of yeast-and-sugar-free biscuits our host whipped up for me before we left (at 9 am, bless you mike), and the cozy feeling of being loved by a friend.  we headed east from Edmonton, and there i found it. 

home.

tawny fields, striated with snowy lines where machinery had driven or plowed or harvested (not my speciality!).  black branches, white trunks, hills and dells, and a veiled sun looking on, hazy behind the clouds.  i started to smile, and breath deeply, and pray, and shine with thankfulness.  it still comes as a surprise that the prairies lie inside me, but i think i've figured it out.  i can understand this beauty.  it does not overwhelm me, it invites me.  i picture myself running in the fields, sleeping under the trees, gathering wild flowers, picnicing.  finding a stream or a lake and wading in - no tide, no sharks, just honest-working fish, and my body moving the water around me. 

who knew that in moving to saskatchewan, a word i had associated with barrenness and cold and boredom (just being honest!), i would be moving to a deeper part of myself?    i would find me?

you know who,
and so do i.

lost teeth and open eyes

i had a dream last night that scott looked at me and said "have you looked in the mirror lately?".
so, tonight we dyed my hair.  so long to the inch-and-a-half of gray.  hello nutmeg brown.  and yes, by "we" i mean, my husband and i.  scott's attention to detail and perfectionism comes in very handy at times.  i was sitting on our kitchen chair, half doused in dye, and thinking of how lucky i was to have a man trustworthy with nice n' easy.  sigh.  i'm in love.

tomorrow we leave for Canmore for a week of family vacation.  (we do have a house sitter for those of you scoundrels who peruse blogs looking for unattended homes.  not this time!!  my $60 speaker system and 24 inch television and jewelry from smart set are nice and cozy and safe.  take that!)  we spent the day cleaning the house (my husband vacuumed the couches.  sigh.) and packing and generally ignoring the fact that i have strep throat and that tomorrow we are going to be locked in a car for 6 hours with our kids.  and we leave after scott's finished preaching his second sermon of the morning.  booster juice is really going to have to come through for us.

but after the harrowing travel experience we will be in Canmore (which is basically Banff), with a hot tub and our own little chalet overlooking the mountains.  praise the Lord for time share.  i've got three books and two knitting projects and a jigsaw puzzle.  heaven.

if only i could bring my paints.

my daughter started today by loosing one of her front teeth.  she's seven, and this is only her third tooth to leave her perfect smile.  she spent the day grinning and sticking her tongue threw the hole, or finding a replacement tooth, such as a pea.  it's so fun when your kids experience things that you can actually remember experiencing yourself.  i don't remember toilet training or my first time tobogganing or learning to read.  but i do remember the journey of loosing a tooth.  playing with it until it's only hanging on by a thread, but being too nervous to actually just yank it out.  your older brother telling you he'll tie it to a door knob and slam the door shut.  the strange space left in your mouth that makes your talk funny and bite funny and feel like you have some adjustments in life to be made.  rediscovering a part of your body that you took for granted. 

tonight my friend Simon is home, after dying on a basketball court last week.  he has had a miraculous recovery, but tonight i think of Marney, lying beside him in bed, forever changed by this experience.  not wanting to take a moment for granted, not a kiss or a smile or a word.  this is what pain and change do to us, is it not?  refocuses us on extraordinary things that we have taken as commonplace. to live and move and have our being in these bodies on this earth; we live miracles every second of every day. 

so my prayer for Marney, and for me, and for all of you, is that we would have eyes open to the extraordinary nature of life. 
not out of fear of losing it,
but out of joy for it's beauty,
and thankfulness for having it in the first place
and worship. 

here's to good weekends

this morning the leaves fell off our tree, and my daughter wore her snow boots to school:  winter seems to be arriving.  i confess, i expected it sooner so i'm not feeling too much sadness at its arrival.  the other day in church a lady said to me "i'm going to say something worse than swearing:  it's snowing."  i was expecting something inappropriate to come out of her mouth, so i was a little disappointed.
we just had a wonderful halloween weekend.  my kids dressed as a bride and a ninja - totally appropriate for both of their personalities.  there's my four year old, ripping around the lawns, yelling and jumping in his black long johns, and my seven year old, walking as though down the aisle, bouquet of fake flowers in hand, wearing a friend's mother's slip as a dress.  perfection.

on saturday we had a pumpkin carving party.  we've always carved with scott's brother's family, so it just felt wrong to carve alone - like a sign of pumpkinism - hiding in a dark corner with knife and vegetable, feasting on seeds.  anyways, we invited close friends and man, the creativity flew!  my daughter was rummaging through the fridge, calling out "i found a nose!" and producing a baby potato or a roma tomato for a tongue.  she radiated.  and then we saw the zucchini....

that night scott and i went on a date and saw "footloose".  we sung at the top of our lungs - even though we don't know the words "geese, louise, shada offa ooo eese....", and scott got up and danced during the closing credits - even getting some applause when he catapulted over a railing.  we danced to the car, we danced to the coffee shop, we danced back to the car, and i thought "this is why i married this man".  i felt like we were dating again, but i got to go home with him.  awesome!!

then on Sunday, my son was trying to say the word "hallelujah" and was having difficulty (no, i was not asking him to say the word hallelujah, it wasn't part of family devos or as a part of weekly scripture memorization - just to be clear).  so, i started singing "halle-lu-halle-lu-halle-lu-halle-lu-jah!" (do you know that song?).  well, soon enough, scott and i were performing a rousing rendition of it, complete with actions, at the dinner table.  again, this man was made for me.

before bed monday night my kids looked at me and said "please try and keep dad away from the candy mom".  poor things, they truly believe that scott has no personal self control when candy is involved.  and, i mean, he has a little.

in the morning, my son stumbles into the room, eyes half open, hair all over the place (delicious!) and says "how much is left mom?".  i said "daddy only had three pieces, he wouldn't really eat all your candy!" and he answered "i would still love you guys if you did".  COME ON!!!!  it's worth it!!

so, a great weekend.  and today my house is sparkling because i had some conflict to attend to, which made me nervous, which makes me clean.  windows, floors, dusting, bathrooms.  i was a whirling dervish of emotional sanitation.  but, the conversations have happened, the floors are smiling, and i get to sit back and blog.  phew.

i do feel like my energy levels are soaring since i started cutting back on sugar and cutting out yeast.  thank God there's some positive!  how could i handle the halloween candy box calling to me without it?  i tell myself it's all cheap chocolate anyways and doesn't taste good, but i know i'm lying.  kit kat.  dairy milk.  reeses pieces.  i miss you. 

i'm off to make a gluten free lasagne.