in defense of Christmas carols

long lay the world

in sin

and error

                       pining

until   HE   appeared,

and the soul felt its worth

 

 

in one of the advent readings i read this month the writer encouraged me to make space for worship, and one of his admonishments was to sing regular worship songs rather than Christmas carols.

 

WHAT?! 

 

i wanted to write him and ask if he's ever really paid attention to the carols.  i know that they can be overdone, overlooked, washed-out, used for sentimentality and commercialism, crooned out by grade 6 bands and pop singers in ear-decaying fashion. but.

 

what could be more worship inspiring than the above words?  they have reverberated in me these past weeks - and the soul felt its worth.  long i lay, pining away in my life of sin and error, and then God broke in and offered me worth.  this season, and the whole story of our world, culminates in the Creator God revealing the worth of His creation by becoming a part of it.  fall on your knees!  hear the angel voices!!  o night divine!!!

 

i had the incredible privilege of singing back-up for the worship in our Christmas Eve service last night.  we sang this song, o holy night,  and it was utterly overwhelming - so much so, that i realized i was belting it out a little off key and needed to simmer down :). 

 

chains shall He break for the slave is our brother

and in His name

all oppression shall cease

 

preach it Christmas Carol!!

 

i went to the saskatoon children's choir's Christmas concert and was struck with how at this time of year people of any faith welcome the gospel into their ears.  surely somebody is actually listening.

 

we have had a very silent Christmas, if you don't count the ambulance siren and croupy cough of our son.  no extended family, no friends even (thanks to infectious viruses), just us.  it's been very relaxed and cozy.  naps, tea, snacks, the sound of music, lego, reading.  i haven't stepped outside of the house all day however and i'm feeling that we are going to have to brave the boxing day parking lots tomorrow just to give me a field trip. 

 

i made no turkey.  i did not overachieve.  i haven't swept my floor in days.  aren't you proud of me?

 

the kids are now tucked up in their beds.  i wonder when my five year old will start asking "how many days until Christmas?" again.  could be next week.  i'm off for a peaceful night with my hubby. 

 

i pray for a silent night for you all, heavenly peace-filled sleeps, and the dawn of redeeming grace tomorrow. 

 

 



hope

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion -
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.

Isaiah 61:1-3

this morning a mother did not pack a school lunch.  she did not tell her little one not to forget his mittens.  she is not concerned about school Christmas concerts or the skating field trip. 

my heart is breaking for Connecticut.  i have never cried over a piece of news like i have this past weekend.  i feel stunned, impotent, angry, but mostly, deeply, sad.

how do i proclaim freedom?   how do i bind up?  release? comfort?
ah, but this prophecy is not about janet anderson, it was spoken by an old man (at least i picture Isaiah as always ancient) many years ago, about Jesus.  can He do it?  will He do it?  and can He and will He through me?

last week i was reading this passage in Isaiah 35:

Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.
The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.
Yes, there will be an abundance of flowers and singing and joy!
The deserts will become as green as the mountains of Lebanon,
as lovely as Mount Carmel or the plain of Sharon.
There the Lord will display his glory,
the splendor of our God.
With this news, strengthen those who have tired hands,
and encourage those who have weak knees. 

i looked back on the wildernesses and deserts of my life - years of living with fear as a constant companion, my journey of looking for safety in the arms of relationships, miscarriages, depression, anxiety, a season where after a near-death experience my daughter did not sleep for months...
flowers have been planted in these deserts. 
each of these wastelands God has turned into something which can display His glory - miraculously.  and just like the spring crocus, in each of these circumstances i had lost hope, i believed the winter would never end, and then i glimpsed a bit of green.  a truth that began the transformation.  it's not that i'm glad i went through those experiences, not that i would welcome them again, but there is a consistent rhythm in my life of God showing up.  God changing me (and this is usually the healing - not that the circumstances change, but that i change in them).  God using those painful places to bring consolation to others who are hurting, maybe even a nugget of wisdom, a sister in the journey.  God did not and does not rid my life of desert places, but He transforms them into gardens.

i wish i could hand that truth to Connecticut.  i deeply want to hold that grieving mother in my arms and cry with her.  i want to let her hold my children and cry out her pain.  i want to cook her a meal and paint her a picture and offer any kindness.  but i know that this healing will not come from me.  It will come from Christ, and i know, i KNOW dear broken mother - it will come.

homage

today is my mother-in-law's birthday.  she is now, officially (in the eyes of the powers that be) a senior.  but i say NO! 
so, an homage to your youth dear Beverly Anderson.  here are some reasons why my mother-in-law (forthwith referred to as 'mom') is in her prime.

she's still in love with her husband, who affectionately refers to her as "Bezerly" and gets misty-eyed when he gives her presents.

when out for a walk she doesn't just stop to smell the flowers, she refers to their Latin names, and their nutritional (or poisonous properties).  then, she'll notice a bird or the way a vine whimsically wraps around a branch or a new bud and she'll be lost in wonder.  going for a walk with my mom is like going for a walk with a genius and a child at the same time - her heart is continually open to wonder and she inspires this wonder in others.

she's still learning and trying new things.  her newest project is helping A Rosha, a Christian conservation society, monitor bird populations in the parks of south surrey.  her last was learning as much as she could about the history of the Mennonite peoples and their various exodus' (exodii?  exodum?).  making jewelry, designing purses, mastering the gluten-free cookie...her repertoire is always expanding.

she giggles.  and also has a delightful full-bellied-pink-cheeks-can't-breath-raucous laugh.

she takes a wicked photograph.  somewhere along her journeys my mom has mastered how to look in a camera.  she does this thing with her smile and eyes, and pretty much her entire demeanor, and she always comes across beautifully.  sometimes when scott points the camera at me i'll think "what would mom do?".  maybe i should make a WWMD? bracelet for myself, or some sort of dangly thing for the tripod.

she enjoys buying me lingerie, and has great taste (praise the Lord!).  "pastors need sexy wives" she'll say, and i couldn't agree more :)

so, to you mom.  here's to many more years of youth.  i love you.

and, in the spirit or encouragement, can i tell you the best compliment i've received recently?  my friend stopped me a week ago in the church foyer and said "i looked at you across the room and i thought 'janet looks great today.....she looks like she's been turned into a vampire'".   the pale skin's working for me folks!!

advent

i love to get my Christmas shopping finished before december for a few reasons (the biggest being that i love buying presents so i start as early as possible).  the BEST reason is so that once the big month hits, i can snuggle up to advent.  i swing my hips side to side, pushing away the debris, and roost. 

my mother-in-law gave me this creche scene one year.  the shepherds look like they've just stepped out of a dickens novel, and there are no wise men or animals - which some might find essential - but i just love it.  i love the beggarly quality of the shepherds.  i love the serenity and joy of mary, throwing her arms up in response to her baby's chubby hands reaching towards her.  i just know she's about to kiss him.  she'll dig her nose into his neck and smell the baby skin, and wonder how she could love a little child any more - and then he'll grab a fist-full of her hair and try to pull it out of her head.  because he was human, and naive, and unaware - and none of these traits of humanity are sinful.
what an honour to the human race that God chose to incarnate himself through our frail and fallible form.  breathtaking. 

it's been snowing every day for the last while.  shadows are blue, the world is a little brighter any hour of the day, the evergreens look like hallmark cards, my nose is a permanent shade of red and we can no longer get into the backyard through our side gate.  you can see why above.  and although the shovelling is tiring, and finding a parking spot is a nightmare, and i had my first fender-bender yesterday - there's nothing better than watching your little ones frolic in the snow.  i know, you're thinking that a good frolic at the beach is nice....true.  but the rosy cheeks and the mittened hands and the smokey laughs.  i love it!

something else i love about this saskatoon winter is that i can make decorations out of ice.  so, a bundt pan and an old wreath make:

 
can't do that in BC!

I've been working with some fellow artists at our church on an advent prayer guide, and a visual art show called "the empty chair initiative".  i was thinking about advent a few months ago, looking for an image to paint for the church, and i came across a chair in a field of wildflowers.  instantly i was thinking about waiting - who was the chair meant for? how long has it been sitting there? consequently  i began seeing areas of my life as a chair waiting to be filled:  my longings for my neighbours that seem to fall short, my desires for my friends to know the fullness of a life lived for Christ, my yearning for my children to deeply grasp the truth.  i thought of how at some Jewish dinner (is it Passover?) there's an empty chair left for Elijah, the prophet who is to precede the Messiah.  of empty chairs which stand as memorials to people who sat in them (ever see Nanny McPhee?).  and then i pictured a wall covered in images of chairs, communicating where we as a church family long for Jesus to show up in our world, long for the Messiah and his kingdom, places where we wait in eager anticipation for Christ to come again. 

well, i got 5.  not exactly a covered wall, but it's a start!  the little show was hung in the church on Friday and I feel very proud of it.  Four of the images can be seen in the prayer guide, which you can find here. i think i've done the work of preparing for this season well, now i just need to rest in it.  which, truthfully, can be the harder work for some reason.

my prayer for us is that this advent season is one of new awareness:  of our longing, our need, our dependence, our hope; and a fuller understanding of the miracle of a God 'putting skin on and moving into the neighbourhood' - as Eugene Peterson so eloquently puts it.  heaven forbid that Christmas should pass us by, and we remain unchanged.

old friends and border guards

i heard the most appalling thing the other day.
i was standing in line at Sobey's and i overheard a conversation that went like this:
"which cheese did you choose?"
"monterey jack"
"hm.  cheese is cheese."

it was literally a crisis moment for me.  do i step in and educate?  do i offer some boursin?  i stood there and glanced at the speakers out of the corner of my eye.  they were in their early twenties.  babies.  a prickle of pity, but also something akin to judgement?  incredulity? maybe a little anger?  i decided not to speak up, but found a friend leaving the store at the same time as me and quickly informed her of the overheard blasphemy.  she mentioned cracker barrel, i recalled aged gouda, and some hope returned to my saddened heart.

last friday night i was overwhelmed with cheese greatness.  why?  i was in BC, surrounded by friends who understand "mon petit demon".  so they came over to leah's house laden down with a multitude of cheeses.  comfort and joy!  we ate and talked and bloated and laughed.  it was fantastic.  there's something so cozy about being surrounded by old friends - like memory foam.  you just sink right in and feel supported in all of your two thousand parts.  they know you, and remember that time you...and the way you...and how you...and they still love you.  and believe the best about you.  and trust your intentions and understand your heart.  and you for them. 

the opposite of an old friend is a border guard. 

picture a car filled with three women in their thirties (i'm one, we're all cute and a little giddy being sans children).  it's early saturday morning and we're attempting a run across the border for some shopping while i'm in town.  we have our passports ready. 

we have not discussed it but i think we're all planning on beginning the border-guard relationship with large smiles and a hint of flirtation.  we pull up, the windows are rolled down.  we each make eye contact and hitch up the smiles so that they hit the corners of our eyes, just a little.  sparkle.  say hello. 

back peddle!  this man does not want smiles that hit the eyes!!

serious faces, still soft, but more contemplative.  as if to say "you have a gun.  yes.  we see that and respect your power and authority, but can't you see that we are as harmless as doves?"  don't look at each other.  remain calm.

oh, wait, he's lightening up.  offer some info, bring the smiles up half a notch.

back peddle!  yes and no will do, say nothing more.  stop smiling all together.  begin praying for mercy. angle the eyebrows - think shar pei, or hound dog, but try not to look desperate.  embody submission.

slowly drive away.

because our friend Jacyln is sure that the border crossings are heavily bugged (a.k.a. they can hear you) say positive things for the first thirty seconds.  "what a kind man.  i'm so glad he takes his job seriously.  my!  i feel safe, don't you?" 

then gun it and breathe out and complain for a good five minutes. :) if old friends are memory foam, boarder guards are a bed of nails.  or maybe a sleeping bag with a snake at the bottom.  i'm glad we made it out alive!

and truly, as long as you're with friends you love, even militant border guards can be fun.  after.

so, a toast.  to old friends, and new friends who feel like old friends, and strangers who will one day become old friends.  to you.

cheers.

holiday eve

so i'm all smiles and giggles today - well, maybe not ALL, but the percentage is high.  why?  you ask...
tomorrow i fly to BC for a long-awaited weekend away.  Scott has taken multiple trips since we've arrived in this fair land of Saskatoon, and has been holding out a glittering carrot of hope:  "one day i'm going to send you away for a weekend".  granted, most of his trips have been workish ones, but many have also included an extra day to see family and friends.  so, i'm cashing in!  the glittering carrot has been turned into coconut carrot cupcakes and will travel with me.  i just returned from the library with a juicy novel in hand, i've got a book of crosswords (they make me feel smart and stupid at the same time), and a box of wool and knitting books awaiting me across the border in Washington.  it feels surreal that i'll be in the arms of my dear friends in a mere 24 hours.  hoorah!

i will miss my family however.  my kids are in this glorious stage of imaginative play.  last night they spent a full hour with polly pockets in the bathroom sink.  and sunday night they slept together in a tent in one of their bedrooms.  my son crawled into bed with me a few mornings ago (he still gives me daily morning snuggles, something i'm going to hold onto until it gets glaringly awkward) and he said "mom, i just gave my sister some snuggles.  it was AWESOME!  i told her she was pretty".  come on!!  that is just riches, riches on riches.

and, of course, i will miss my husband.  my marriage is a sleepover with my very best friend every day of the week (with great benefits).  i do not look forward to a cold bed, and to phone conversations that always leave me feeling short-changed.  life is always better spent when spent with him.

but i'll manage.


we are definitely into winter here in the prairies.  scott went for a run in snow and a temp of minus ten on the weekend - my own personal Rocky!  i asked if he yelled "Jaaannnneeettt" in a voice that sounded like his nose is broken.  but he didn't.  shame. 
we also went tobogganing on monday as a family - it's always good to feel that you are coming close to death on remembrance day.  this was my first time on a sled in 9 years - i've been nursing a damaged tailbone.  so, when i ended up rocketing down a hill BACKWARDS with my daughter, i panicked.  i bailed.  i'm sorry to say that i didn't feel the worst of it, poor girl.  i am in need of some basic training in my war with snow, obviously.   today the sun is bright and the shadows blue and the ground white - it is truly beautiful.  but i am looking forward to seeing some green :). 

well, i'm off to pack and clean the on-suite.  or, at least pack.  i'll see many on you soon!

Friday night

you will NEVER guess what i did this weekend.  no, don't even try, it's pointless.
i was with my friend when she gave birth to her beautiful baby girl friday night.  YES!  it was incredible, absolutely awe inspiring. 
awe
in
spir
ing.

to see my friend's stomach, hard as a rock, shifting downwards, i promise you i watched it dropping.  lots of breathing, lots and lots and lots of pain, bodily fluids, exhaustion, waiting, waiting, suffering, surviving, a few minutes of scrambling and medical professionalism and then there's a baby girl! little finger nails, peeking out between her lashes, staring at her mother, smiling at her father (i swear!).

i must say, i feel for the husband.  i know, i know, what a ridiculous thought when staring at your dear friend who is hardly able to breath she's in so much pain..  but i felt completely helpless, there was nothing i could do to take any pain away from her, all i could offer was a hand to hold and a smile and some encouraging words.  after a while i started wondering if my "you're amazing!  you're doing so incredible!" were starting to irritate.  i mean, i was irritating myself.  and i looked at her man, so intent and caring and calm and thought - it sucks. i wonder if most men think "this is my fault.  what have i done?"

at one point she was sitting on an exercise ball, and her husband was sitting behind her on a chair, and she was leaning back on him.  he was supporting her and talking with her and holding her.  what a beautifully intimate picture of their marriage to be privileged to witness.  i bet my mouth was open.

and then, to see her baby stare into her eyes.  i thought i'd never witness it again - it has to be one of the most beautiful of all life's moments.  and THEN, and i was waiting for this, watching my friend realize "holy crap!  I just did that!  I'm invincible!!".  there's nothing like the rush you get from birthing a child - experiencing the impossibility of life.  one minute you think you're going to die, and the next you think nothing could kill you.  if only they could harness the strength of a brand new mom.  then they could feed it to one-day-old moms. there could be a series of little white capsules you break open that are labelled "when baby reaches two". 

and, in case you're wondering, we made it through the entire process without me seeing her lady parts.  nothing short of miraculous.  i didn't have to relive grade 10 biology, hallelujah!  and my friend did not lose her sense of privacy (that's pronounced with short "i" sounds, like the British say it.  i've decided it sounds more sophisticated that way.  especially when your five year old busts in the bathroom.  "give me some privicy!").

sorry that my friday night was much better than yours.  i bet your saturday night was better than mine though, so we're even.  unless you were sick on the couch as well - then i guess i'm still winning. :)

exercise, age, and Christian fiction

my abs hurt. 
my abs hurt because i thought i would go "easy" on my knees, which are also hurting.  so i bought a yoga video.  i hurt my knees doing a jillian michaels "bun and thigh" video.  and then i bought a jillian michaels yoga video.  and now my knees and my abs hurt. 
or maybe this is just what 37 feels like and i'd be in a lot worse shape if i didn't exercise. 

my kids got a science video from the library, just to watch for fun.  i was thinking back to how incredibly boring science videos were in my day (except for the birth video that i watched right before lunch in grade 10 biology.  i just remember thinking "what am i looking at here?", and then it slowly began to dawn on me.
                                 are
                                     you
                                          KIDDING
                                                          ME!!
I figured the lady must have been amazonian in size to begin with.  there's no way normal lady parts could turn into that.  i'm pretty sure marilynne got my lunch that day, and i, no word of a lie, did not participate in pre-natal classes later in life because i didn't want to re-live this experience).
as i was having this thought process about science boredom, it came to mental light that i also watched 'videos' on film.  on film!  yes, that's what 37 looks like.  i remember watching my teacher trying to thread the film through the projector, cutting the last frame into an angle, turning the knobs.  OH my, i wanted to do that!  i asked a classmate how you learn and they told me you had to be in the audio visual group, and then informed me that if i wanted any social life of any kind i would get the dream of threading a film projector out of my head. 
so i became a teacher instead.  sadly, in the days of VHS.  i have still never experienced projector pleasure. 

i'm currently lost in a good book, and, i must say surprisingly, it's by Ted Dekker.  i was browsing the church library, frankly turning my nose up at the Christian romance section, when a friend suggested this author.  and it's great!  it's got all the elements i love - romance, science fiction, time travel, action, metaphor, beautiful description...i hate that i'm amazed.  i think i'm so tired of "Christian" art being about soaring eagles and back-lit cottages, happy endings and mediocre prose - it's so refreshing to read someone who's actually popular AND good.  praise the Lord!

speaking of, i better go read before the science video ends.  i need to rest my abs anyways.

musings.

i didn't blog last week because i didn't have anything to say.  i know, you're thinking "impossible!" .  the last few weeks have been, well, a bit boring.  scott's worked crazy hours with a conference at the church and i've decided that life is pretty dull without him around.  i start feeling like all i do is sweep the floor and make dinner and knit. 
in reality i've spent lots of time with friends and have painted something beautiful (not finished yet so hold your horses) and have enjoyed my children and welcomed, as optimistically as possible, the cold.  we're filling the house with pumpkins, both real and crafted, and the mittens and toques are up from the basement.  i feel like i'm constantly craving soup or tea or chocolate (the last two never change, they're seasonless).  and i want to paint some walls - does anyone else feel that overwhelming desire once the cold hits?  i'm looking at these beige walls and thinking "this far and no further!". 

scott and i have been watching the new bbc series "upstairs, downstairs" - a  continuation of an old series that ended in the 70's.  it's about the house of a diplomat in England in the 30's - the nazis are coming, the king has just abdicated his throne to his younger brother to run off with a divorcee, and all of the social structures that have existed for generations are about to crumble.  but what i really love to watch are the walls.  teal, robin's egg blue, even ultramarine.  with molding and wainscotting and beautifully patterned wallpaper.  i look at my beige and sigh. 
my favourite part is when my husband and i will be snuggled up on the couch, watching this drama, and he'll exclaim "look at the walls"!  yes, i married the right man.  but will he pick up the paintbrush?  i'll keep you posted.

my son, in kindergarten, was recently sent to the principal's office for having a food fight in the lunch room.  here's the story.
i arrived to pick up my pride and joy and was greeted by his teacher who had that look on her face.  eyes sympathetic, eyebrows angled back, lips horizontally stretched, teeth exposed, and a slight inhale through them so that you hear that hissing sound.  "it's been a rough afternoon".  my heart drops.  i look at my son, who is giving my his best look of innocence.  i swear he's been perfecting the gaze of a hound dog. he starts explaining.
"noah wanted me to eat his blueberries"
                                   "okay"
"he kept trying to give them to me"
                                   "alright"
   the teacher steps in "where did the blueberries end up?"
"on the floor"
                                    "i see"
    teacher:  "and then where did your ketchup go?"
"on noah"
                                   "oh, dear"
"and then he used me as a human napkin"
                                   "oh, my"
    teacher:  "and then where did you go?"
"i don't remember"
    teacher:  "the principal's office?"
"oh,
       yes. 
                the principal's office."
(the teacher looks at me with gravity)
                    "and were you scared when you had to go there?"
"no.  she's nice.  i like her hair.  it's brown!"

well.  obviously he's learned his lesson.
scott has been assuring me that he practically lived at the principal's office, but somehow, i'm not assured. 

it sucks when you know that your child could be the most amazing person on earth, but they're keeping it a secret. 
and least he gives me stories for blog entries.  i suppose i should count my blessings.

well i'm off to enjoy sabbath with  my man.  may your walls have colour and your children's shirts by ketchup-free.

 

grow up

when will i grow up?
my parents were here for the Thanksgiving weekend (which i'm very thankful for) and before they came i told myself "self, you are no longer a child.  you will not revert to being a child when you're parents are under your roof".  "ok" answered my self, and i thought the pep talk had gone rather well.  then i started cleaning - floors, bathrooms, walls, cupboards, you name it i touched it with a Norwex cloth.  i told myself "it's not because i'm trying to prove something, it's just a part of hospitality".  i lied to myself. 
i bought a turkey, using my club Sobeys points, and told myself "it's more for the soup afterwards than the big show at Thanksgiving and using my points is a wise use of my resources".  liar. 
i wrapped said turkey in bacon after rubbing it down with chili powder, and i stuffed it with sage and apple and onion and i cooked it.  i then made stock from the bones and made my soup the next day and waffles for breakfast and prime rib for dinner and analyzed everything i said to my children or didn't say or did or didn't do and swept the floor constantly and pointed out my recent accomplishments.  stop it self.  seriously.  stop.
after i kissed my parents out the door this morning i thought "where did i go wrong this weekend?".  i sat down with my Bible and was offered this little nugget of truth:  i was so busy trying to earn my parents approval, i failed to see where they could have used mine.  i was serving them to serve myself, and missed the whole point. 
it would have been more honouring to my mother to ask her to teach me how she makes her turkey (which always tastes awesome) instead of striving with my own recipe in order to hear my father say "this is the best turkey i've ever had!".  which he didn't say, because he loves my mom.  and i didn't realize until today that those words would have insulted her, since he's been eating her turkey for over 40 years. 
when will i ever grow up?  when will i begin to put the needs of others before myself?  to see their needs and desires and hopes, and not just my own?  when will i be motivated by the truth of who i am in Christ - loved, accepted, with a purpose for my life and a unique personality fashioned by my Maker?   when will i care more about caring for others, then caring that they see how i'm caring for them?  i sound like a lunatic.  i acted like my five year old who will ask me for a glass of juice when i'm in the middle of simultaneously making dinner, cleaning the kitchen and counselling a friend on the phone.
get your own juice!
and self, get over your constant need of approval!!

i think pms is also in play here.  it seems that in my late thirties there are some months when i literally loose my mind for a few days.  my poor husband tiptoes around me on his toad-webbed feet, praying for the day he will return to his prince charming status.  my kids don't hide it, the look in their eyes is fear.  and they have good reason - mom is off her rocker.  i think it's pre-menopause, which means that when menopause finally hits you may just need to send me to a nice quiet place with a couple hundred books and a cupboard of tea.  as my friend Kandy would say in her perfect Alabaman accent "it's on".

when my mom hugged me she said "stay well rested" but for some reason i heard "stay big breasted".  i laughed and said "too late for that!".  she laughed and said "they'll come".

i think my mom sees my childhood state as well.

bike dreams

we did it.

when we first moved here i had a conversation with a friend who was telling me about all the wonderful things to do in saskatoon.  one of the many things she mentioned was the bike trails - she talked of how her and her family would bike from our community to downtown saskatoon, have a meal or go for ice cream, and then bike back. she made it sound recreational.  effortless.  she started me dreaming.

i have had my bike, flavia, for over a year now.  we've done a few trips to the zoo next door, to the school, or just around the neighbourhood.  i love being on flavia.  i love the wind in my face (but keep your mouth closed even though you're smiling with joy and exertion - bugs don't feel great going down!), my heart pumping, my legs working, feeling alive and well and child-like.  it's like i'm in my own "participaction" commercial. 

scott got a bike on the weekend.  i suggested the name "ernst", because it seems to work with flavia and it's an onomatopoeia for the feeling of riding a bike.  ernst. he didn't go for it.  my husband believes that inanimate objects should not be named - not that they shouldn't have names, they just should not be given names.  he feels that a name should just "happen", through circumstance, or conversation - in a moment when you're  not thinking of directly naming something.  for example, his car.  it growls. when you are idling it has this vroom-vroom-vroom, like it's accelerating when it's standing still.  sometimes i fear that if my foot isn't on the brake hard enough it's just going to take right off.  on one of our dates out we were talking about this idiosyncrasy, how it sounds like a jungle cat, like a lion...and that night the car was named "pedro", after a washington band from scott's youth "pedro the lion". 

for the sake of this blog entry, i'm calling the bike ernst. 

so, scott and i, and flavia and ernst, lived the dream yesterday.  we biked from our home, through our neighbourhood, into the grasslands/dogpark, down to the river, across the bridge, travelled along the riverbank until we reached the downtown core, hooked up just past the bessborough hotel, and landed at solueio foods.  we both had a steak salad and carrot brie soup for lunch (!!!), then made the trek back.  it was glorious.  it was NOT effortless.

i think the longest bike ride i've taken, since my childhood many moons ago, was probably 15 minutes or so.  i biked hard for close to an hour yesterday - scott thinks around 10 miles.  i'm sure i have a lovely bruise the exact shape and size of my bike seat on my derriere.  by the time we made it home i was literally giving myself a pep talk for every push on my pedals.  which was funny, because on our way out we saw this guy running and i said to scott "he looks like he's running away" - his arms were flapping and his feet were slapping the pavement and his eyes were a little terrified.  scott said "he's running flat-footed.  he's exhausted".  well, i was biking flat-footed when we pulled into our driveway.  i painfully extricated myself from flavia.  scott said "i could go for a run right now".  i though we was joking, but no, he wasn't.  i love my husband but sometimes i want to punch him.

thanks to an epsom salts bath (how do those magic salts do it?!) i am able to move today, but every time i sit down it's like a lovely little reminder.  it was wonderful, especially accomplishing that with scott.  much more fun than working out with jillian michaels. 

and i'm pretty sure flavia winked at me on my way out of the garage.  or maybe she was winking at ernst?

mid-life

"For is it not possible that middle age can be looked upon as a period of second flowering, second growth, even a kind of second adolescence?  It is true that society in general does not help one accept this interpretation of the second half of life.  And therefore this period of expanding is often tragically misunderstood.  many people never climb above the plateau of forty-to-fifty.  The signs that presage growth, so similar, it seems to me, to those in early adolescence:  discontent, restlessness, doubt, despair, longing, are interpreted falsely as signs of decay.  In youth one does not as often misinterpret the signs; one accepts them, quite rightly, as growing pains.  One takes them seriously, listens to them, follows where they lead.  One is afraid.  Naturally.  Who is  not afraid of pure space - that breath-taking empty space of an open door?  But despite fear, one goes through to the room beyond. 

But in middle age, because of the false assumption that it is a period of decline, one interprets these life-signs, paradoxically, as signs of approaching death.  Instead of facing them, one runs away;  one escapes - into depressions, nervous breakdowns, drink, love affairs, or frantic, thoughtless, fruitless overwork.  Anything, rather than face them.  Anything, rather than stand still and learn from them.  One tries to cure the signs of growth, to exorcise them, as if they were devils, when really they might be angels of annunciation."

"Gifts from the Sea", Anne Morrow Lindbergh

i know what you're thinking - why is janet posting something about middle age?  because friends, i'm hitting it.  i'm thinking that "middle-age", for me at least, is less about a specific number than it is about life stage. i'm in the in-between.  most of you aren't - most of you still have children too young for school, or are pregnant, or you're too young to even contemplate the age "middle".  but i'm here, on the cusp, on the edge of a wide chasm.  and it is scary, the pure space, the open door...but also a little breath-taking if i'm honest. 

my youngest is now in kindergarten, which means that half of my school days are wide open spaces.  when i think about them i see large fields stretching from me, inviting me to explore.  but with the fields come the questions - what am i to do?  who am i to be in this next season of my life? 

it's a struggle, because it is hard to leave behind old rhythms, past areas of ministry, comfortable excuses.  it's hard to say no to anything when i seem to have all this time, all this freedom to share. i do feel discontent and restless, and compelled to frantic action.  for the last two weeks i wake up tuesday morning, the day after our sabbath, feeling like i'm going to drown.  like the amount of work facing me in the day is too much to comprehend.  and then, by 4pm, i'm bored.  it's like i've completely forgotten what i'm capable of, how much time certain tasks take me, the difficulty level of work that i've been doing for years.  what is going on?!

i stumbled upon this chapter today and pieces began falling into place.  this is a new season, a new stage of awkward growth.  it's even accompanied by the same inexplicable weight gain i experienced in pre-adolescence!  thankfully i'm not needing another round of dental appliances, and i have a much stronger fashion sense. 

awkwardness is never fun however - i'm all gangley arms and legs, shy in my own skin, looking around me, waiting for affirmation, for direction, for calling.  tentatively sticking my big toe through the open door, trusting that the same God who is in this room is waiting in the next.  that's one great thing about the middle - all the faith-inspiring experience of the beginning to remember. 

so, welcome angel of annunciation - whisper to me the secrets of the future, the scandal of the present, the promise of the past.  tell me my life's purposes, and i will walk with you
through the middle,
to the end.

ditches

yesterday morning was difficult.

at church we listened to  a speaker from the global leadership summit - a leadership conference which occurs in the summer at a huge church in the states, and then is shipped world wide in dvd form, where it is done for the masses in the fall.  our church here in saskatoon hosts the summit each year - a time of great influence, and ridiculous amounts of administration.  anyways, as a promotion we watched one of the videos from last year.

usually the summit is geared to anyone, christian or not, but last year things got a bit churchy (a problem i've heard has since been corrected)...anyways, the gist of the talk was this: "God wants to do amazing things with your life, but in faith you need to prepare for what He will do through you".  the speaker (a man around my age in skinny slacks and a cardigan, and yet, somehow still attractive) said (and i paraphrase) "i don't want to just work, have a life, buy a boat and die.  i want to do something amazing, something that will change the world.  i want stories of great risk and God's faithfulness to tell my children and grandchildren".   he told a story from the book of kings where three kings are wanting to fight this other king and they've prepared their troops and have marched out, only to hit a drought.  so they inquire of God through a prophet, should they fight?  will they win?  and God answers "build ditches.  it's going to rain".  so they do, and it does, and they win.

point being:  we build the ditches.  God makes it rain. 

all of this i wholeheartedly agree with.

however, the talk left me feeling deflated.  because i want great stories of risk and faithfulness too, i want to do amazing things, i want to change the world.  but HOW THE HECK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?  i sat in the pew and stared at my life of laundry and meals and kids board games and teacher meetings and cleaning the pee off the bathroom floor.
a small sound like a ppphhhhhhzzzzzzzzz was heard.

                        deflation.

the speaker kept saying "what ditches are you digging?  what ditches are you digging!?".  i don't even own a shovel, and i just put my shoulder out doing my boot camp workout, and i don't know what bloody ditches i'm digging!!!!!!!!!

i know, i know.
and i know that you know,
that the role of a mother is an extremely high calling and world-changing position.  i know that all of the love i poor into my children will be exponentially felt as they pass it along.  i know that i could have nobel prize winners sleeping under my roof. 

and i bet that the speaker knew. 
but he didn't say it.  or maybe he did and i didn't hear it.

it's one thing to know it, and a whole other thing to feel it, and feel validated in it.  is anyone else out there feeling a little overwhelmed with books and talks that make you feel that the only way to be a Christ-follower is to sell your house and live in the projects and eat beans and make every conversation count and put your kids in inner-city schools and give away your television?  i mean seriously?  after all that i have to give away my television?

i think yesterday i had just had enough. 

and, to be honest, it's quite possible that the speaker had no intention of making me feel this way, it's just something stirring in me that finally went pop!

this morning i'm looking at my life and realizing if i try to tack on a world-altering project it would be for the wrong reasons, and my children would grow up bereft of my best.  i am following Christ's leading, and so far he hasn't led me to the slums of calcutta, or to some savvy business plan to clothe the poor, and he certainly hasn't given me a mind to cure disease or invent a water purification system. 

i will feed my children healthy meals and listen intently when they explain their fears, i will pray for my neighbours and friends and invite them over for soup, i will plan birthday parties that will make my children's friends feel loved and safe and honoured, i will support my local school and be a voice for positive change to the administration, i will mentor, i will create works of art to inspire and encourage, i will clean the bathrooms for my homegroup, i will spend time in prayer with my friends, i will learn and pass on what i learn, volunteer, teach, worship, share, trust God for my daily bread and do all that i can to bring His kingdom into my everyday.

there.  forget the shovel, bring on the backhoe.

a new era

today was my son's first day of kindergarten, and scott and i's first sabbath without kids.  it was delightful.  after the usual hubbub of getting the kids out the door in the morning, we leisurely spent the a.m. napping, reading, and snuggling.  went out for lunch and then did some shopping (!), bought me some boots (!!!) and a new BEAUTIFUL winter coat.  happy birthday to me!

my son was beaming when i picked him up "mommy!  three recesses AND gym!!", i made chicken cordon bleu for dinner and then the kids made an obstacle course in the backyard and we raced - my daughter won.  i think i will have bruises from the "sit in the toy dump truck and move it over to the tree without using your feet" obstacle.  what was i thinking trying to squeeze my butt into that toy?  scott pointed out the fact that the bucket portion of the truck seems to have been widened - he wisely said "we broke it"...but i think we all know who broke it, and there's no "we" about it.

so, all in all a fantastic beginning to this new era in parenting.  i keep saying to scott "we made it!" and i can hardly believe it.  i almost get misty eyed due to the fact that both my kids can wipe their own butts and get into their own carseats.  and now they have lockers and school shoes and lunch kits! 

my hope for this season is to spend sabbath with scott, one day a week painting, and one day every other week volunteering at the crisis pregnancy center.  it feels surreal to be in a place of making decisions based on my passions and giftings, and not on childcare needs, nap times, the emotional/physical needs of my kids, etc.. 

and what an absolute joy to watch my kids grow and explore and mature (a little).  i found out that my daughter, who's in grade 3, found her little brother on the playground at lunch and invited him to play with her and her friends.  he got to be a baby porcupine in their game.  i'll have to spike his hair for wednesday so he can really get into character.  what a big sister.  the only time i remember seeing my big brother at elementary school was on the bus - and he told my mom that i kissed a boy on the ride home in grade one and she sent me to my room to "think about it".  i did kiss him, but only because the bus guard - one of those burly grade fivers that you see in movies - made me.  his name was Grant and he had an english accent.  and so began my illustrious kissing career.  of all the times i should have been sent to my room, the grade one bus kiss was not one of them.   

i don't blame you though mom.  how does one handle such scenarios?  yesterday my son cut his sister's new doll's hair.  she walked downstairs and he said "it cuts like real hair!  look!" and proceeded to unwrap his fingers, revealing a small clump of dolls hair in his palm.  to her immense credit she did not scream, she just came to me and calmly relayed the information.  what's a parent to do?  i made him pay her a dollar.  i said that he had damaged someone elses property, and according to the law he had to pay for it.  he took it well. 

Lord knows what disciplinary measures i'll be wading through next week, or even tomorrow.  it's enough to make me want to turn ostrich and hide my head in the sand. 

praise God there's another sabbath coming.

 

the last day

today is my last day of 36. 
this last week has been a nesting flurry - despite not being pregnant.  i came home from my month away and went a little crazy with paintbrush and nails and debit card.  i think i have this feeling of impending imprisonment in my home during the long winter ahead, and i want to make it as beautiful as possible for the coming siege.  tonight i'm sitting back, taking it all in with a sigh of satisfaction.  i'm currently on my couch with the sun shining in through the tree in our front yard, covering me with dappled light.  scott and the kids are out for a walk and i stayed in, warm and cozy, to finish a novel and write to you all.  it's been a lovely day.  i wish all of my "last days" could land on a sabbath.

tomorrow my youngest registers for kindergarten.  i washed his hair today but got sidetracked with dinner and forgot to comb it so it's sticking up every which way around his little head.  perfect.  he told his sister and i the other day, over lunch, that he was a little nervous for school.  big sister piped right up with "but you're going to love it!  and you get to be in a play at the end of the year!  and go to assemblies and the library and gym and even dance class!!"  he turned his big eyes to me - "i don't want to be in a play!" strike one for big sister.  but a big A for effort. 

i picked up my paintings from rosthern a week ago - it was like reuniting with old friends.  we're still arranging and re-arranging them around the house, but oh!  how i missed them.  and what a sense of worth i feel when i experience how they turn a room into a beautiful space.  i think that this gallery show has propelled me forward into seeing myself as an artist, not just someone who enjoys painting.  not that it was a financial success, but the whole journey of creation and display and offering my work to both friends and strangers....something has clicked inside.  and i'm thankful.

last week i arrived home to 3 foot weeds (did i tell you?).  what is it about weeds that are so irksome?  scott and i walked with the kids down by the river last night - gorgeous gorgeous evening with the setting sun and wildflowers and tall grass.  surrounded by weeds and loving every minute, and yet, in my own yard...is it because i can't control them?  is it because i work so hard to get something i have paid for to grow and these just shoot up willy-nilly, seemingly without the need for water or fertilizer or attention?  infuriating!!  my mom calls weeds 'God's flowers', but in my mind i think the opposite. 

a while ago, while i was uprooting these intruders, i had the thought that weeds are like sin.  (stick with me here, i think i have a point.) it's so easy to lie, to envy, to covet, to gossip, to lust; and so hard to sacrifice, and honour, and submit, and have compassion.  you don't have to cultivate sin, it just springs up when and where you least expect it.  and kills the Spirit alive within you, trying to grow and flourish and beautify.  i did not have to plant anger in myself or my children, or tend to jealousy.  but love, joy, peace, patience, self-control, kindness, goodness...these need to be nurtured and practiced and protected.  not that they're more fragile, just harder to grow.  maybe this is why God reveals himself first as a gardener in Eden.  where weeds need no help to flourish, the garden needs a Gardener.  and so do i.

and then today scott and i had fries from mcdonalds and decided they're like sin.  they taste so good in the moment, and then 10 minutes later you pay for it. 

and wetting the bed is like sin.  momentary pleasure that quickly brings discomfort.

do the metaphors never end?  okay, i'm stopping.  but here's to my 37th year ahead - may it be filled with artistry, a garden of God's character, healthy food and a dry bed.  cheers.

my secret identity

picture this woman:  she's wearing keens, mid-thigh khaki shorts, a comfortable yet fashionable shirt (probably bought at one of those earth-conscious stores), there's a well-worn nalgene bottle in her hand, half full.  her legs look strong, her hair is relaxed - no fuss, she's wearing makeup?  minimally, with a corded bracelet.  she's carrying a baby in a backpack and has just come from hiking a mountain.

this is the woman i've always wanted to be.

i'm turning 37 in two weeks and have finally come to grips with the fact that i will never, ever, be this woman.

i've been on holidays for almost a month - we've been to a cabin in saskatoon, a camp on vancouver island, grandparents in the lower mainland of BC, and now i'm with the kids at my parents in Ontario.  somewhere, in this journey, i must have caught a glimpse of myself:  wearing a dress, manicured hair, sandals with rhinestones, chunky bracelet, makeup and purse.  i was holding a travel mug with tea, and was showered and changed after my jillian micheals workout dvd.  somehow, in that glimpse, a wakeup call sounded: it's time to embrace myself and let the dream of outdoorsy-casual-low-maintenance janet make way for the reality of indoorsy-dressy-medium-maintenance janet. 

i look better, and feel more comfortable, in a dress than in shorts. 
i don't like hiking mountains.   
i like a little flavouring in my water.  and caffeine. 
i look prettier with some mascara and lipstick. 
so what?

this, i must tell you, has been a freeing revelation.  i went shopping with a dear friend down in washington, and i didn't even try on a pair of pants - only leggings!  it was so relaxing to walk into a store and think about what i actually wanted to wear instead of what i wished i would wear.  does that make sense?  see ya later shorts and sweatshirts.  hello cardigans and sundresses!

i've gotten the line "why are you so dressed up?" a few times (especially at camp :)), but I'm getting less and less embarrassed when it comes.  i answer "this is the way i dress".  doesn't that sound mature?  for the first few weeks i felt the need to explain this revelation to everyone.  most of them looked at me like "it took you this long?".  i guess everyone else has been in on this secret except me.

wouldn't you know i'd be the last one in on my own secret identity.

so, i'm off in my maxi dress to get my birthday present from my parents:  leather boots.

leaks

i know that Tolstoy is famous.  i know that many people give him acclaim for his writing skills.  but still, this passage was surprising:

however painful the mother's fear....the children themselves repaid her griefs with small joys.  these joys were so small that they could not be seen, like gold in the sand, and in her bad moments she saw only griefs, only sand;  but there were also good moments, when she saw only joys, only gold.

yes, i'm reading Anna Karenina, and i confess that i'm reading it because i want to watch the upcoming movie with insight.  and it's great.  and it's long.  but worth it when you come across little gems like the sentences above. 

i've seen a lot of gold this week.  my husband is (finally!) on holidays and i definitely love being a mom more when there's a father around.  we spent the last 5 days at pike lake, staying at a friends cabin.  it was all a cabin should be - a little leaky, filled with windows and yellow walls, clean enough for comfort, relaxed enough that you're not reaching for the broom every day.  a large wrap around deck leading you down to the lake, Adirondack chair and canoe.  sounds dreamy right?  it was. 

and the golden moments were many - my husband cannon balling off the dock to the squeals of my kids, my daughter finding an injured dragon fly and carrying it around on her shoulder for the rest of the day, a local beaver that swam over to visit us, my little boy jumping in the lake with his favourite flowered floaty around his waist. 

but lest you think there were no sandy times, the toilet was broken and i couldn't sit on it.  thank God i've been working out regularly or i don't think my squats would have held out.  and thank God for coffee.  coffee keeps things moving quickly, and every second counts when squatting over a foot-high trailer toilet.

on a perfectly un-related note, i was visiting a church tonight that reminded me of parkside.  small, quirky, relational, raw, simplistic and relaxed.  it was lovely, and during worship God gave me a picture of myself.  i feel keenly aware of my flaws lately, the cracks and holes that exist in this molded creation that is janet.  i was praying, asking that God would fill me with His mercy and use me to extend it to others.  and i saw this hole-riddled shell, leaking out what God puts in.  without our imperfections we would be oblivious to the gift that grace is.  God uses our frailty to wake us up to His perfection, and to equip up with empathy for the frail beside us - our sisters and husbands and kids and friends... my holes are the means of God's mercy leaking out to others.

so, leaky toilets and leaky lives.  thankfully i don't have to do penance with squats.

thoughts on age

a couple weeks ago i had this dream that i was standing in line waiting to get into some function.  i didn't know what the function was, but it was in a building, and i was in line, and i was in the front!  so, i really didn't care what was inside because i was revelling in the fact that i was at the front and the scores of people behind me would just have to wait (hey - i can't help it if i'm sinful in my dreams).  i finally got through the doors.  i still couldn't see what was happening but the air was thick with anticipation and excitement.  the door attendant asked to see my ID, so i passed it over and she looked at it closely.  VERY closely.  she started scratching at my birth date to see if it would come off.  she said "promise me this isn't fake".
i was in utter shock.
i answered "i am 36 years old.  are you serious?  do you really think i need fake ID?  THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!".  i might have hugged her, my memory is a bit fuzzy at this part, and i don't think i ever made it inside much further than the doorway before i woke up.  but the meaning of the dream was clear - no need to call in the interpreters for this one.

a few days later i was talking to my friend Sonal about her leggings.
"where did you get those?  they look so good."
sheepishly she answers "lululemon"
"oh" i say
"i know they're expensive, but they literally last me 10 years so it's worth the money".
hmmm.
i go home and tell scott that i think i need to buy some lululemon leggings because mine keep shrinking (blame it on the leggings!) and look horrible and "Sonal says they'll last me ten years!"
suddenly i'm hit with the realization that in ten years i will be almost 47 years of age and will probably NOT be wearing leggings. 
"forget it," i say "i'll stick with the cheap ones".

scott is probably thinking, 'i didn't even have to say a word!'

my daughter, who is 8, recently asked me what it was like in the "old-fashioned times", when i was a kid.

my birthday is coming soon, can you tell?

but here's the truth - i wouldn't go back.  it's not worth the thin waist or the ability to eat copious amounts of food with no thought to the consequences or the lack of responsibility.  i like me better now.  i don't live afraid anymore.  i have fulfilling work and relationships and, yes, responsibilities. i adore my children.  i'm in love with my husband.  i'm living the dream at 36!

so bring on the birthday.  although i might make myself some fake ID.

reminiscing on humidity

lately it's been gloriously hot and humid.  i can say this for two reasons:  first (and foremost), i have air conditioning for the first time in my married life.  and second:  i grew up in Ontario.

Ontario in August can feel like your being slowly suffocated by a hot wet sock.  really, that lovely.  and yet, there's a part of me (and i didn't realize it until recently) that enjoys it.  i spent every summer of my childhood at a camp in the Ottawa Valley, living in a trailer, and hanging out with friends.  it was a Pentecostal camp - now, i know that's giving you visions of wild church services, complete with dancing and laughing and crying.  well, that was about it, but add to that vision the fact that these services happened every night (!!!) during family camp, and that they were held in a tin barn that conducted and stored heat like an incubator.  a barn lovingly known as the tabernacle.   as crazy as it sounds, these were magical summers for me which planted a deep desire for God in my life. 

and quite a few camp romances :).

there were many families who spent weeks on end at this camp every summer, and there's nothing like spending every day, all day, with a group of friends to solidify their place in your heart.  we played a LOT of cards, water-skied, swam, attended church, bought fundip and fries at the tuck shop, hiked through the adjacent farmlands, and pretended to smoke grass around the campfire. (and by that i don't mean marijuana, i mean grass).  sadly, i've lost touch with all of them.  but the other night i walked outside and was struck by this wall of humidity and heat and my first thought was "why don't i have cards in my hand?  i need a game!".  the air smelled sweet and sticky and my skin instantly felt prickly - it was delectable!  i was transported back to an age with few responsibilities, lots of questions and emotions, the sweet sadness of young love, languorous afternoon naps and the ecstasy of a cold lake on a hot day.

so, if you want to make my summer, the next time the humidity hits show up on my doorstep with chips in one hand and cards in the other.  i'll even let you win.

[and if anyone knows Angela Giles, Colin Wiley, Jonathan Shepherd, or Karen Kwapis tell them Janet Laing says Hello!]

i made it!

on saturday night i welcomed my third child into the world:  my art show.  9 months in the making, the delivery was surprisingly less painful than that of my first two children.  and though not quite as magical as holding a newborn in my arms, it was a delicious experience.

i was surrounded by friends, applauded by strangers, and held by my husband.  i couldn't have imagined a better night.  so, i've been described as "an artist" publicly now, and have a show to prove it.  you might not be amazed by that but i sure am.

last week i had this terrible vision while falling asleep - that scott and i died in a car crash on the way to the show.  it was quite terrifying and reminded me of when i was engaged and confident my husband would not make it to the wedding.  i could just see the headlines "woman and husband die on route to first art show".  so i was quite thrilled when my friends Lesley and Vern offered to drive us.  when we arrived i told her about my pessimism-issues and she said "i had the same thought while we were coming here..." .  good grief - it's catching!!  we made it there and back with only one moment of terror - how does a deer look so graceful and endearing in a field and like a sadistic monster in the middle of the highway?  the van was packed with friends - 7 in all - and we laughed like teenagers and i even belted out some whitney housten (until scott encouraged me to simmer down).  i wasn't the only one singing scott!


cori kay flew all the way from BC to attend the opening and i'm looking forward to one more blissful day with her here before she jets back tomorrow night.  she's one of those house guests that fits in like the furniture and plays with your children and is just as happy to sit and read a book with you as she is to make the waterpark rounds.  what a treat. 

i feel exhausted from gratitude and wonder - my cheeks hurt from smiling.  it's marvelous to feel like such a wreck.  however, i also feel my age due to the consecutive late nights and the two workouts i've done from my new "bootcamp" dvd.  i think that, despite the ridiculously hot weather, a bath is in order.  praise the Lord above for air conditioning!

thanks again to all of you who made it out, and to all who still plan on seeing the show.  good news - it's been extended until the 25th of August.  so you have lots of time to saunter out to Rosthern, enjoy an afternoon tea with saskatoon berry pie and soak in some beauty.   the play - Jake and the Kid - is truly remarkable and i would highly recommend taking it in as well.

and, of course, i would be remiss if i didn't write and enormous THANK YOU to lindsey, for making the dream a reality, and gifting me with the privilege of hanging my art next to hers.

cloudy with a chance of funnels

so it seems to be tornado season in Saskatchewan. 
"really?"  you ask, "i didn't know there were tornados in saskatchewan"

me neither.

two weeks ago my daughter had a playdate with her best friend, and just as we were putting some finishing touches on the fathers day gluten free sticky buns (oh, yeah, you read that right) the phone rang.  it was the best friends mom.  here is how the conversation went down:

"hey janet, did you know that there's a tornado warning in effect"
"oh, no.  what does that mean exactly?"
"well....you should be in the basement"
at this moment i'm looking into the eyes of her beautiful little girl, and then into the eyes of my beautiful little girl and boy - they're all crowded around me, like they can sense the calamity about to befall them.
i say
"okay kids!  there's a tornado warning!"
"what mom!!! what does that mean?!!!"
"well...we should go down to the basement.  so let's just leasurely walk down..."
                 suddenly a horrendous B-O-O-M sounds as it thunders directly over our house (or, at least it felt that way).

pandamonium.  all three are screaming.  they're also laughing and looking around them with the widest eyes possible.  picture the look of hysteria.  one of them makes a bolt for the stairs, and then they're all running.  my daughter makes it halfway down and turns around.   she's now running upstairs to her room, then she's back down holding two dolls:
"NOT WITHOUT MY BABIES" she screams. 

"i should probably get off the phone now" i say.

i get the kids (and the babies) settled with mah-jong on my computor in the basement, then phone scott, thinking he was in a window-less room in the church and probably had no idea his life was in peril.  but, no.  he informed me that he had known all afternoon about the warning.

thanks. 
thanks for calling.

"no big deal" he says, "just keep looking out the windows and if you see some funny looking clouds go downstairs".

i look out the back window.  i look out the front window.  and i realize i don't have any windows on one side of the house!  and anyways, i'm supposed to be staying away from the windows!!!

half an hour later the storm had past.  but it's left me with this question - how is it that i left the threat of a possible earthquake in my lifetime and moved to the threat of a probable tornado in my lifetime?
i used to watch the news about florida and think, why would you live in a place where there are continual hurricanes?  are you friends in bc watching the news over the last few weeks and thinking the same about me? 


although i'm not a fan of tornados, i AM a fan of thunderstorms, and we're having a doozy tonight.  we turned off all the lights after supper,  watched the lightning,  got out the three new flashlights scott won at the men's golf tournament a few weeks ago, and read the storybook "blackout".  then the kids played hide and seek in the dark with scott until bedtime.  there's nothing like a self-inforced blackout.  you can still make yourself a cup of tea. :)

my show gets hung this weekend, and my opening night is next.  i have thirteen paintings crammed into my home - which will soon feel dismally empty once their gone.  it's like a dream that i'm actually having a show, in a gallery, where bonified artists have hung their work before me.  i'm excited and terrified and shy and exuberant all at the same time.  maybe that's why i've been so lazy lately - i'm too emotionally taxed for vacuuming.

and weary of peeking out my windows for funnel clouds.

leah came to visit me last weekend.  there's nothing for the spirits like an old friend, some good food (chocolate fondue, thai restaurant, and my camembert hashbrowns), conversation, prayer and the surprising joy of watching my new friends collide with my past.  each moment dripped with deliciousness.  and cori's coming out for my opening night so i'll have the chance to do it all again!  i'm feeling pretty spoiled.

may your skies be clear and your friends dear....and your blackouts self-induced.

prairie girl

i have passed a sacred prairie initiation, and am now one step closer to the title "prairie girl".  i'm not sure what other initiations i must go through, i'm sure they will be self-evident such as this one was...  but let's back up a bit shall we?
on friday i was in the shower, soaping up my back, when i noticed a new mole.  hmmm....i thought.  i was told to keep track of such anomalies.  so, i checked it out.  and it moved.
oh, yay.  you read right.  it MOVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

suddenly i had a flashback:  it was a cool summer evening last year.  i was with my family and some new saskatoonian friends up at Blackstrap lake.   our friends were staying for the weekend, and had invited us up for dinner.  we were just about to leave, feeling filled up with the beauty of nature, friendship and food.  i looked out over the lake, our kids were running along it's edge with  a beautiful frolicking dog.  one of the boys had a remote controlled boat zooming through the water beside them.  despite the descending mosquitos, the evening felt pretty perfect.   we started expressing our thank-yous and goodbyes, then someone says "make sure you check for ticks". 

"yah,  right."  i say.  funny prairie people thinking i'm going to swallow that one.

"no, we're serious.  you need to check.  everywhere.  and we mean, everywhere."

nervous giggle.
i scan the faces... they seem like they're trying to look serious and a little bit sympathetic, but i can also detect some smiles hiding in the corners of their mouths.  "sure," i say.

let me describe a tick to you.  it looks like a child's drawing of a bug.  it's round with legs shooting straight out in multiple directions - kind of like a sun.  my daughter (who ran into the bathroom to rescue me when she heard me yelling) calmly explained that she learned in her grade two health class that ticks can not be crushed - you have to flush them down the toilet.  "their shells are too hard mommy".  nice. 

they don't hurt, they don't leave a bite mark or even an itch.  but i had to pull the little sucker off me like a leech.  i just had to close my eyes and regroup for a second after writing that last sentence. 

so, with my brave girl encouraging me forward i caught the tick off the shower floor (where i had thrown it and immediately stepped out of the shower.  who needs to rinse?) and flushed it down the toilet.  then, i got into a pretty dress and some sparkly jewelery to try and mask the fact that i have no idea how long that thing was living on me and i feel disgusting and where the heck did i get it?  and i need to feel a little bit like a princess for just a moment so back off!! 

my daughter kindly assured me that the tick they found on someone in their class was MUCH bigger.
fantastic! 

miraculously enough, i still want to be a prairie girl.  in fact, i cried today at the thought of ever leaving.  i love you Saskatoon, ticks and all.

tonight

right now i can see a fat fat robin outside my front window, popping along with a juicy worm in his beak.  i think i might have chased the same one away from my one and only red strawberry on my one and only strawberry plant today.  too late however.  that worm will now join my strawberry in robin gullet gore. 
thankfully, strawberries are on sale at my local sobeys. who can complain?  come on over fat robin, enjoy yourself.

it is now the month of June, which means the month of May, with it's many scribbles and lists and arrows and exclamation marks, has been replaced by this blissfully sparse calender month.  no, not empty.  there is something large at the bottom, looming and beckoning at the same time:  my show. 

i've been thinking alot this week about how crazy it is that i am an artist.  i haven't really let myself hold the title until recently, but i think it's okay to say now.  i think there's enough sales under my belt, enough paintings with my signature elsewhere in the world.  how is it that i get paid to move colour around cloth?  it's so....excessive.  so unnecessary.  and yet, so fundamental and essential as well.  i actually get to create something, to transform the ordinary into (hopefully) extraordinary, and in the process i can, at the best of moments, encourage, enlighten, enchant another.  was art created for this purpose?  to speak to a deep part in another that responds to this communication alone?   and if it were taken away, truly, completely...could one survive a life bereft of any beauty?  would this be hell?

but, philosophising aside, it remains colour on cloth, and blows my mind that it is my profession.
true, there are many times, such as now, when my back aches for relief and my arm threatens tendinitis, and i doubt that my eyes can see colour any longer - when this artistry feels very much like work.  but after the suffering, if i'm really lucky, i have this moment of surprise:
 'did i just do that?'.

when i really boil it down, this art in me is sheer
                                                                           
                                                                                gift.

tonight my little girl of eight told me that she let her crush know that he is, indeed, her crush.  i asked "what did you say" and she answered "i told him a liked him." and i asked "how?" and she said "i whispered it in his ear".  and then she gave this delightful little giggle, and my heart flipped. 

it is a beautiful world tonight, of fat robins and artistic endeavor and a giggly bright-eyed girl.

dreams

on sunday evening one of my oldest dreams came true.  and i didn't realize it until monday morning.

when i was a little girl i belonged to the type of churches who loved to bring in people to do "special numbers".  this was usually an elderly gentleman belting out a hymn for the offeratory (my mom would advise "if you can't help laughing when you look at him, close your eyes like i do!"); or a middle-aged woman singing boisterously to a recorded track; or a young, terrified girl, skinny and awkward but proud in her accomplishments, sitting down at the piano and wavering through "arms of love" by amy grant.  (that last one was me).  but once and a while we were priveledged to have a WHOLE service dedicated to "special numbers", and if we were really lucky, it would be a travelling singing group.  and really really lucky?  (i know you're thinking "i don't believe in luck.  i believe in blessing".  keep those thoughts to yourself, i'm trying to be poetic here).  a singing family.
i always instantly crushed on the older brother.  of course!  i dreamed of us marrying and having our own family singers.  present-day von-trapps.  we would look into each other's eyes when we sang.  our kids would wear matching outfits.  i would wear heels. 

well, on sunday night my dear husband had a concert.  and i got to sing with him.  and on the last song, our little girl joined us.  she sat on my lap and i wrapped my arms around her and she crooned away into the mic.  she was glorious.  the perfect mix of timid and brave.  and i sang my heart out with her on my lap and my hubby beside me.  it was a life-moment that i'm sure i will look back on with happy heartache for years to come.  if i'm ever in a coma talk to me about sunday night and i'm sure it will snap me out of it. 

and to be clear - no matching outfits.  and no heels.  we actually pillaged our living room and set it up on the church stage - rug, chair, lamp, painting.  so i sat bare-footed with my toes in the nice plush rug, feeling at home, despite the many pairs of eyes on me.  i loved every second.

this week my dear friend Cori (hi cori!) sent me a short excerpt from a book she's reading.  it's called "the gifts of imperfection".  you had me at imperfection.  let me give you a taste (or a tastey as my son says):

Joy and gratitude can be very vulnerable and intense experiences.   we are an anxious people and many of us have very little tolerance for vulnerability.  our anxiety and fear can manifest as scarcity.  we think to ourselves:

i'm not going to allow myself to feel this joy because i know it won't last.

acknowledging how grateful i am is an invitation for disaster.

i'd rather not be joyful than have to wait for the other shoe to drop.

i've always been prone to worry and anxiety, but after i became a mother, negotiating joy, gratitude, and scarcity felt like a full-time job.  for years, my fear of something terrible happening to my children actually prevented me from fully embracing joy and gratitude.  every time i came too close to softening into sheer joyfulness about my children and how much i love them, i'd picture something terrible happening;   i'd picture losing everything in a flash.

most of us have experienced being on the edge of joy only to be overcome by vulnerability and thrown into fear.  until we can tolerate vulnerability and transform it into gratitude, intense feelings of love will often bring up the fear of loss. 

these are anxious and fearful times, both of which breed scarcity.  we're afraid to lose what we love the most, and we hate that there are not guarantees.  we think not being grateful and not feeling joy will make it hurt less.  we think if we can beat vulnerability to the punch by imagining loss, we'll suffer less.  we're wrong.  there is one guarantee:  if we're not practicing gratitude and allowing ourselves to know joy, we are missing out on the two things that will actually sustain us during the inevitable hard times.

woah woah woah!!!!  i should tattoo that somewhere noticable - like the tops of my hands, or write it on my contact lenses.  i would add to it though...there is another guarantee:  there is a God who loves you and who is worthy of trust.  a God, who i sang about, and sang for, with my daughter cradled on my lap, my heart bursting with joy. 

God, i am filled with gratitude.