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.

two weeks

...and over walls and earth and trees and swinging sprays and tendrils the fair green veil of tender little leaves had crept, and in the grass under the trees and the gray urns in the alcoves and here and there everywhere were touches or splashes of gold and purple and white and the trees were showing pink and snow above his head and there were fluttering of wings and faint sweet pipes and humming and scents and scents.  and the sun fell warm upon his face like a hand with a lovely touch. 
-the secret garden

i've never read "the secret garden" before, can you believe it?  what kind of an education did i suffer through?  what was i reading when i should have had this book in my hand, under the covers with a flashlight at night?  sweet valley high i bet.  wanting to be elizabeth but secretly admiring the bad jessica.  are those really their names?  what the heck is wrong with me!  how can i remember fictional twins from more than twenty years ago, (eek!) and not the woman i met last week?!  i still remember elizabeth's first kiss (was it Todd?  i want to seriously punch myself).  i remember reading that she tasted the salt and vinegar on his lips from the fries they had just eaten.  that seemed so romantic to me at the time.  it's still my favourite flavour.  salt and vinegar.

anyways, i digress.  the secret garden.  this week i've planted some flowers in my little backyard bed, and an herb garden where the "vegetables" were last year - i don't know if you remember the harvest of last fall, but i thought i'd try my luck with leaves alone this year.  so, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme - i've got them all!  and my little trees are bursting with blossoms, i've got irises and lilies pushing their leafiness up through the soil, pansies a plenty and green grass!  it's heaven.  today i lay on the hammock and soaked in the sunshine and smelt the blossoms and read my book.  there are fat robins hopping around the house, worms wriggling in my soil, and, as the book states so well, "scents and scents".  have i mentioned i love spring?  i think i have.

it's been two really good weeks. 
i had the immense pleasure of saying goodbye to my in-laws who had come for a quick visit, and not wanting them to leave.  who can say that about their in-laws?  me, that's who!  i spent a day painting with friends.  i've watched my children frolicking in the sunshine, not wanting to leave the backyard. 

and now my mom is here.  we've been staying up until midnight watching downton abbey episodes.  i call out "i love you mr. bates!" in my finest yorkshire accent (i don't really know if it's yorkshire, but that sounded smart of me didn't it?) before i make my way upstairs to bed.  i realized tonight that i don't find mr. bates attractive in the least, and yet i don't know when i've ever rooted for a romance's success more.  now that's a good script.  if you haven't seen downton abbey do so immediately.  call in sick, get a sitter, leave the laundry - watch the show.

and i've been painting lots.  for those of you in the area, my show starts in July at the Station in Rosthern - opening night is the 7th if you want to come! 

so, yes, two weeks filled with a few of  my favourite things.  flowers, digging in soil, reading a good book, sunshine, family, painting, and tea and scones with my mom.  i hope life has been good for you as well.
 

old

tonight, dear friends, i feel old.
for a number of little reasons.
first, i have a five year old and an eight year old.  my youngest is now five.  many (most?) of my friends are either still in pregnancy stage or have a toddler still hanging off their skirt.  not that i want a toddler hanging off me particularly, but it makes me feel old.
my youngest took some pictures of me tonight.  i was sitting in my favourite chair with the sunlight streaming in, i had a flower clipped into my hair, and was wearing one of my favourite dresses.  a recipe for success.  i looked at the pictures and here's what i beheld:  wrinkles around my mouth, deep caverns under my eyes, greasy hair and pallid skin.  i know, you're all trying to think of ways to encourage me right now but you did NOT see these pictures so forget it!!
my back is hurting from the workout i did this morning.
and i just had to play with my poo using a little stick because of this series of disgusting tests my doctor is having me perform to see if i have something.  i'm not being evasive with the "something" i seriously can not remember what it is she thinks i might have - something ending with "sis".   see how old i am? 
seriously, i walked into the bedroom, holding my plastic baggy of grossness, back hurting, frumpled and grumbly.  i said to my (younger) husband "i feel old."

so i gave myself a little pep talk.

first, no, you don't have to point it out to me - my back is hurting because i worked out.  old people don't do that.  and it was a jillian michael workout.  nuff said.
i stared at myself in the mirror and said "you look hot in this dress"  (my husband from the other room - "yes!").  my shoulders look a little buff - i performed my first real push-up today.  old people can't do that.  my parts aren't saggy (probably more because some physically can't sag, but still). 
i jumped up and down and played with rhythm sticks in my sons preschool class today.  that's right, he's not even in school yet.  just pre-school.  i'm so young.
i waxed my own legs this morning - how juvenile is that? 

the light must have just hit me wrong in those pictures.  and my doctor is totally over-reacting - i probably have an ulcer - that's such a typical young person thing.

unless it's early menopause.

oh,
dear.
i need to go and re-apply some face cream.