a prayer of examen

this past week - frantic movement,
     a pressing onward, onward, onward
small glances behind, full glare ahead
hurting my eyes, depressing my heart.

                   stop.

                   regain clarity and charity
                        and thankfulness.
take the time to look around your life
        alive and beating as you stand still.

see your beautiful children, graciously growing
                                   despite your weaknesses.

see you loving husband and remember his morning embraces,
his words of compassion, his posture of interest.

see the joy of home and the gift of time within it,
        the monotonous becoming a dance
                                          or a song?
                                                 if you let it.

see the grace on grace on grace
                 of a God with good plans
                             and hands filled with power
                             and motivation of limitless love.

                 strengthening me.
                 calling me in purposes large and beautiful.

let go of imagined control
                 and lie back into submission.


(pause)


                               now,
                                    move on.

light thoughts

well, friends.  what can i say of life this week? 
it continues.
sickness, health, dirty bathrooms, clean dishes, paintbrushes, toothbrushes, joys and frustrations. 
a week in the life. 
for the first time in a long time i destroyed one of my paintings this week.  it was, frankly, horrible.  but, for the first time in a long time, i finished a painting and thought "this one is awesome".  so, thankfully some balance. 
i've started following the jewish tradition of lighting a sabbath candle at dinner and letting it burn itself out.  so, all evening i traipse along this candle to whichever room i'm in.  it's amazing what one single flame can do, and make you feel.  what beauty there is in light that cannot be found in darkness.  i don't remember ever walking into a dark room or going outside on a starless night and thinking "what beautiful darkness!".  but this flame, with it's haloed warmth, its perseverance, its quiet strength... beauty.
i read this in my book of common prayer today:

William Law, an eighteenth-century English cleric, wrote, "All that is sweet, delightful, and amiable in this world, in the serenity of the air, the fineness of seasons, the joy of light, the melody of sounds, the beauty of colors, the fragrancy of smells, the splendor of precious stones, is nothing else but Heaven breaking through the veil of this world"

what a thought!  this candle is a little breakthrough. the love i feel for my children.  the pride i feel for my husband. the cool, sharp air in the winter.  the promise of spring.   and the beauty i can bring to this world... all actually imparting glimpses of the eternal.

i am inspired to continue painting beautiful things, and to keep my eyes open for what tears in the veil i'm able to catch.

blessed

i feel awkward about the word "blessed".  as in, "God blessed me with.....".  it seems with whatever word i fill the blank i'm judging.  "God blessed me with my home", am i saying that if you're homeless God is withholding his blessing?  "God blessed me with my husband", but what about my amazing single friends? "God blessed me with my children", but what of barrenness? 
so, i try not to use the word willy-nilly.  in fact, i probably use it very little.

and then on Sunday these words are spoken over me
   blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
   blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.
   blessed are the merciful, the persecuted, the peacemakers, the meek....

beautiful, beautiful words. like waves washing over me.

i sit in my chair and close my eyes.  i see myself holding on to the kitchen counter, holding back the screams of sadness and fear and loss because we have just decided to resign from our church, and our home, and our loved ones.  i see myself in the hospital, saying to the triage nurse "there's just so much blood", and lying alone that night, crying myself to sleep, mourning the loss of our third child, our second miscarriage.  i see myself a week later, holding on to the cross at the front of our church, holding on like it is saving me from a flood of depression and agony.  and standing in the kitchen, wondering months later why i feel nothing anymore.  i hear my voice saying "we have six dollars until the end of the month". 

and as i look back on the hardest moments of my life, i see blessing.  When we were resigning i was blessed with such a sense of purpose, a wild faith, a joyous confidence like i had never known.  losing my baby, holding that cross, walking through depression  - this was a season of life where i clung to Christ, where i did intimately hear His voice and know His care, and was deeply blessed with His comfort.  and the years scott and i spent living below the poverty line were filled with miraculous provision ("i found five dollars on campus and someone told me to give it to you!"). 

i think of the crowds sitting on a hillside, people who knew poverty and grief and humiliation and who never saw themselves as blessed, and were surely never told they were.  their chins lift, their eyes light, their lips begin to hide a smile. 
maybe some say "if this is blessing, no thanks!"
but others close their eyes and look back on the worst moments of their lives and remember experiencing God through them.  letting go in worship because they really felt there was no dignity left to lose.  sharing the scraps of bread left in the cupboard with neighbours who shared their scraps.  community and kindness and beauty in the dark moments of humanity.  dark, but not ugly.

this is not an easy blessing.  it is a deep, earnest, transforming work. 
it is the blessing of change. 

poop.

okay, let's be honest with each other.  i've already failed at my new years resolution.  have you?
i worked out 3 times last week, instead of the planned 5, and only one of those i woke up early for.  i read last week that "sleep is the new sex" and, looking at the past seven days, i'd have to agree.  at 7:30, when the alarm goes off, i don't want a better body, i don't want health, i don't want energy for the day or vitality or endorphins - i want sleep!  and, like a primal instinct, at that hour the thought of not sleeping seems ridiculous, insane, just plain wrong.
i'm addicted.
i'm a wimp.

but, for arguments sake, let's say that i made a resolution that was a little too tough, a bit... unmanageable.  my dear friend Cori suggested i add one additional workout session a week instead of trying to go from 2 to 5 workouts instantly.  now, that seems wise doesn't it?  i'm going to have to consult her before making my resolution(s) public next new year.

now, to the topic of poop.
one lovely holiday eve i was ganged up on by my entire family.  my daughter cried herself to sleep, my husband and mother talked to me well into the evening - the topic?  pets.  i had planned on buying my kids turtles for Christmas.  i confess i was thinking of the movie Eloise, where she has her little turtle ambling along the floor, and she talks to it and dresses it up in bows for the holiday.  cute.  contained in an aquarium.  not smelly.  easy to care for. 
so, off my mother and i went to PetSmart, bright eyed and bushy-tailed.  we found the first worker who would make eye contact and pronounced "we're here to buy turtles!" to which we heard the reply "turtles are illegal in Saskatoon". 
excuse me?
yes.  illegal.  something about the threat of salmonella.
so, dejected we went home.  i thought it wise to let the kids know that, hey, mommy tried!  but, this was my first mistake.  i dangled the candy in front of my daughter's nose and cruelly stole it away.  hence, tears. 
scott's only pet he's ever had has been a gerbil.  so, he's partial.  and my mother hates to see her grandkids cry about anything.  my dad stayed decidedly silent.  and i caved. 

my children are the proud owners of two gerbils - blackie and caramel.  they love their gerbils, they are doing quite well caring for their gerbils, and as far as pets go, they really don't require much effort on my part.

except
for
the
poop.

i have beautiful thick piled carpet on two of my four floors (it's a split level home).  there's no way i'm going to let poo fall into it only to resurface during a family board game or while i'm working out in the TV room.  and, i am too compassionate (though it's waning) to have the pets in the basement where they would be removed from most human engagement.  so, that leaves my main floor.  which means, my kitchen.  not in the middle of the kitchen, not in the actual cooking area (don't get all foodsafe on me), but by the back door, which is by the table.  which is where we eat.

no one else in the family seems to see the problem with this scenario.  they seem to think it's no big deal to find a little piece of poop on the floor and pick it up and throw it out.  with their fingers. 
i however am sweeping on the hour, throwing dirty looks at the rodents and finding new rules to enforce daily. "no leaving the corner when you're holding them!" "no using my mixing bowls as play areas!!" "no letting them walk on the table!!!"  my children's skin is soon to fall off their hands from all the sanitary washing i'm prescribing. 

i seriously don't know how long i'll be able to handle this.  poop is ruining my sacred space of home!

part of me is hoping that i'll get over it, and will join the family in casually handling rodent feces.  part of me wants them dead.

i seem to have reached the point where i would rather have cleanliness than animal affection.  i thought i was a pet person.  i was wrong.  i recognize that this is a first world problem (as my last blog entry explores), but i also don't think a woman living in a grass hut made from cow dung would welcome pet poop into her eating space either!!

please keep blackie and caramel in your prayers.  no, scratch that.  please keep my children in your prayers as they have a lunatic for a mother.
and send rubber gloves.

resolution

i've decided to start working out 5 days a week. 
the main reason for this decision:  we're going to california in 2 months and i want to feel like i'm rocking my swimsuit.  and, of course, health, vitality, stewardship of my body, yada yada.  i think the swimsuit will be what gets me out of bed.
this is the plan:  i will get up at 7:30 (instead of 7:45), will eat breakfast, get my daughter up and her lunch packed.  then, at 8, i'll do one of my 20 minute workouts.  i'll say goodbye to my family members departing to their various places and have a shower.  conceivably, i'll have eaten, worked out and showered by 9am. 
i told the plan to scott this morning.  and then i did it.  i have reasoned that since scott takes mondays off, i'll only have to do this compacted schedule 4 days of the five - and then weekends off.  here was the conversation over breakfast:

j:  i think i can do this.
s:  yes
j:  i figured out that it will only have to be four mornings a week because of your day off
s:  yes
j:  so, i think i can do this.
s:  janet.  i think that you can wake up at 7:30 four times a week.

did you catch the sarcasm?  i did.

this makes me think of a new term i learned on new years day:  first world problem. 
these are problems that we harp on about that would never be a problem in a third world setting (or even a second world...is there such a thing?).  here's some examples:
i can't reach the remote.
i can't fit all my christmas decorations in their previous four boxes.
i don't like the tea selection at starbucks.
my wireless internet is a little slow today.
i won't be able to eat dessert because my spanks are too tight.

i need to get up at 7:30 so that i can eat breakfast early enough so that i don't puke it up while i do my dvd workout so that i can look good in my swimsuit when i go to disney land in march.

this is a first world problem.

doesn't that help put things into perspective?
my bookclub is reading "the happiness project" and i feel like "first world problem" is written all over it (i am only in chapter one, to be fair.  maybe it gets better). 

so, here's another resolution i'm making right now as i type to you all out there that i love (and some that i have never met)............... i'm going to attempt to view my problems through this lens - a recognition of my privileged state, and not take myself so seriously.  and, recognize that many of my "problems" are really there because of my excess.

a kick in the pants, while i physically kick myself in the pants 5 days a week between 8 and 8:30. 
i think i can do this.