near enemy

okay, here's the truth.  sometimes my kids squabble.  they're petty and selfish and ignore me and each other.  they squelch patience and stoke annoyance.  they literally drive me to drink (usually tea). 
i wonder if you are nervous about my post title, that you're hoping i'm not about to say my children are my enemies.  fear not!

and then there are days like today, days when somehow the tree of the spirit has actually popped out some fruit.  hallelujah! they're sweet and helpful and complementary and even affectionate.  sadly, i have no idea what the formula is to cultivate these glorious times, so i'll just have to enjoy them when they arrive. 

i was watching my kids tonight before bed, laughing with each other, traipsing around in their jammas, electric toothbrushes at the ready, and i thought "when is love ever easier than this?".  the childhood love of siblings, easy and comfortable, deficient of the sicknesses of adult love - control and jealousy, manipulation and self-preserving fear. i know i used to love my brother like this, and i also remember this love ending, and the pain of that betrayal.  i pray i pray i pray that my children can hold on for as long as possible - and that instead of ending the love sinks deep down into them, where it remains cherished and safe. 

I finished the book i was reading last week*, a delight from cover to cover.  In it there's a conversation between a retired therapist and a detective about "near enemies".  this is a psychological concept describing two expressions of emotion that look the same, but are actually opposites.  for example:  attachment  as love, or pity as compassion.  love always wants the best for others, even if that brings hurt to ourselves.  attachment can look like love, but is actually more about controlling and manipulating someone to meet our own needs, it's self-preservation over sacrifice.
pity necessitates a feeling of superiority, whereas compassion involves empathetic equality.  these are termed "near enemies" because the negative emotion can easily masquerade as the positive, even to the person feeling the emotion.  for example, when i smile at the homeless man who's always outside the mall downtown, do i smile because i see him as an equal human being, deserving of kindness?  or do i smile because i think i should show him compassion since he's screwed up his life so much?  it's hard to ferret out that motivation, and quite honestly, i'm not sure which is correct.

this has really made me think about the reality of my heart, my deep motives and beliefs.   how much of my compassion is pity?  how much of my love is attachment?  i read Jesus' words this morning "unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees..." and was struck again with how completely ugly those deep places in me can be.  how ugly they are. 

with the "idle no more" campaign i've been trying to diagnose my emotions towards the Canadian Native community, and it's a deep well my friends.  i wish i could say i have compassion, but all i find in me is pity, and a growing desire for my redemption from it.  it's horrible.  i feel ignorant and indoctrinated.  i'm hoping that recognition is a good first step...  i want to change.

a few weeks ago my 8 year old asked me "why do we go to high school?  we've already learned everything in elementary school, why do we just have to keep learning it again?".  i have no idea where this came from, and the first answer that came to mind was "the more you learn, the more you realize you have more to learn", but on second thought i decided to leave this depressing axiom for someone else to tell her.  it really does suck that growth entails a deeper understanding of the need for much more growth.  always more!!  it's exhausting isn't it?  just when i think i've made some real progress, a layer is peeled back and i glimpse the chasm beneath.

ugh, i'm getting squirmy just thinking about it. 
i might just put off the inner chasm work until tomorrow.  tonight a warm bath, good book and sweet husband are calling.  (not all at once!).  and a home filled with the echoes of a day well loved.

*The Cruellest Month by Louise Penny

cold, dirt and doubt

it's cold.  exceedingly. 
on sunday, driving home from church, i was close to tears.  we literally live a one minute drive from the building, but i was wearing these stupid leather gloves (i think i'll name them my Wickham gloves, since they're such a disappointment, just like him)* and by the time i got into the house my fingers were burning with pain.  it's so interesting that intense cold burns - i mean, interesting in a "wow, you don't say" way, not a "let me try!" way.

i just finished a great novel by Louise Penny, and in it she describes being in minus thirty temperatures - the sting in your cheeks, the intense cold of your pants, the pain in your chest when you inhale, and the resulting cough.  yes, this is life this week in Saskatoon. 

after we got in the door yesterday, and i was silently instructing myself not to cry in front of the kids, i said "we are not leaving this house for the rest of the day".  and i meant it.  and we didn't.  plans for a dinner out were cancelled and we napped under down blankets and read books by the fire.  which is what makes this time of year beautiful in the prairies - whittling down life to the essentials.  you ask yourself "do i really need those groceries?  do i really need to go to that function? is that thing really imperative?" - and usually the answer's no!  so you turn the page in your novel and snuggle in deeper.  and what a novel it was!

here's one of my favourite bits:

"As his grandfather used to say, "You don't want to go into your head alone mon petit. It's a very scary place.....Beauvoir suddenly remembered the lesson he always hurried to forget.  [The captain] was the best of them, the smartest and bravest and strongest because he was willing to go into his own head alone, and open all the doors there, and enter all the dark rooms.  And make friends with what he found there."

I think this is what the dirty thirties are all about for us humans - the decade of opening doors.  coming to terms with the worst of ourselves, recognizing our motives and influences, picking apart our knee-jerk reactions, slowly and painfully peeling off the bandages of denial, anger and ignorance.  it's dirty work.  but worth it.

yesterday my eight-year-old daughter asked me the big what if question - "what if you find out God isn't real?  will you be angry?"  i was standing at the kitchen sink, and the gravity of the question was felt.  the door of doubt.
i answered "i'll be very surprised, and disappointed.  but i don't think angry.  because following Jesus has given me an awesome life.  i believe that living the way He wants me to is the best way to live.  so, it's worth it.  even if i find out He's not real, it's worth it."

i feel like i've been waiting for someone to ask me that question for a while now.  it's one i ask myself often, every time the dark door cracks open.  "what if?" and "is it worth it?".  i want my daughter to know that being a Christ-follower is about more than just a ticket to heaven after death, way more.  it's about access to life.  i also want her to know that doubt is a part of faith, and that asking this question is important.

well, this is a meandering post.  what will i call it? 
i hope that your tomorrow is warm, that you find healing for your dark places, and answers for the tough questions.  i will leave you with another quote from my book- a bit of poetry. Shalom.

               Here it is then, the dark thing,
               the dark thing you have waited for so long.
              And after all, it is nothing new.

*if you have never read/seen pride and prejudice, now's the time.

hypochondria

so, i didn't blog last week.  sorry about that.  do you care?  i have this fantasy that somewhere out there someone is opening their laptop, navigating to my blog, and letting out a little cry of dismay. 
i'm not sure i should have shared that.  or if i should share what's to come, but what the heck.

i've been nauseous.  look at all the vowels in that word!  it's nauseating to write.  scott and i have both been struggling for weeks with this virus who's only means of making itself known is with a sinking queasy feeling after you eat.  it will disappear for a meal, a day, even two.  then wham-o!  it strikes again. 

after a few weeks of this i started to worry a little.  what if i'm pregnant?  i let the thought rumble around in my brain for a few moments like marbles in a bowl.  obviously, an empty bowl, because i soon remembered that scott is experiencing the same symptoms.  and he's not pregnant.
 and then i remembered that he's had a vasectomy. 
    and then i remembered that i'm on my period. 

dearest father-in-law, i'm sorry you had to read that.  i can hear you guffaw in my mental ears. 

obviously, it's a little embarassing to let you in on my spasmatic throught life.  but aren't we all prone to a little hypochondria? (not that pregnancy is an illness, but in my experience it comes with months of puking my gutts out)  don't these moments of weakness unite us in some strange way, and help us to laugh at ourselves?  i think some of the best stories i've heard from friends are connected to some fleeting paranoia

• waking up a husband in the middle of a romantic hotel stay because you're quite certain your numb arm means a heart attack (your arm was asleep),
• driving yourself to the hospital because while reaching over to pick up the casserole you're pretty sure your placenta separated from your uterus (it was gas),
• you went to the doctor for a pregnancy test because your gums were really bleeding when you flossed and the last time that happened you were pregnant (but they were bleeding because you never floss your teeth - in fact the last time you did was in your last pregnancy).  okay, that last one was me again! 

but truly, how can we not be a little frayed around the medical edges?  we're constantly bombarded with signs of stroke, heart attack, diabetes, breast cancer...i mean, there must be a good reason why we ALL need to know this stuff right?  it's so that we can micro-analyse every symptom until we're basically sitting on the examination table in our paper dress, practicing the speech we'll give to the doctor when she walks in the door about how were are on death's doorstep and really just need her consent.   just let me go, good doctor.  it's been a full life.

when my daughter was two weeks old we took her to the hospital because she was constipated.  no, i'm not kidding.  the intake nurse looked at me, crying, and said "are you okay?"
i whimpered "she's just so little....so small...i didn't think we'd be taking her to the hospital so soon....." (meaning, i was anticipating taking her to the hospital over some reason or other....but maybe after she'd reached at least a month of maturity). 
she answered "yeah....we're going to get you in to see a doctor right away...."
which confirmed my suspicions that something was drastically wrong with my baby, but was really about the nurse thinking along the lines of
                   "ticking
                           time
                                  bomb".
the doctor walked in, humming.  he played with her feet.  he literally said something along the lines of "do-de-do-de-doo".  looked me in the eyes and pronounced "yeah...you're babies fine.  how are you?".

ah, man.  you know why i can laugh and tell you these things?  because i know you have similar stories!!  don't pretend you don't!!!

so, feel free to share your hypochondraic thoughts with me, i will try and suppress the urge to make them my own.

new years day

today i welcomed in the new year with Sabbath.  and i have truly done nothing.  i slept in until close to eleven, my husband made me breakfast, i worked on a puzzle, did a fifteen minute work-out, had a long shower, do you get the picture?   blissful.
except...

sometimes rest makes me feel uncomfortable.  my mind starts reaching out across the world to the mothers who never rest a moment, they are continually, eternally, fighting for food to keep their children alive.  as i work on my puzzle i notice it's made in China.  i wonder if the fingers that put together this beautiful image of children playing in the snow, were that of a small child, dreaming, in awe that there are others his age who are permitted play.  is this depressing?  of course it is, and i do apologize.  but i'm going to continue, just to warn you. 

i'm reading a novel entitled "child 44", which is a story that moves like a speed train, tunneling into my quiet moments, perceptions and conversations throughout the day.  it's set in Stalin's communist Russia, which i've not learned of before now.  it's blowing my mind - a nation struggling towards equality, thinking that equal pay and equal work will eliminate crime.  in the process however, any person who dares make the slightest inclination that they don't agree with Stalin's doctrines is systematically executed.  there is this scene where Stalin dies, and Moscow lines the streets for the funeral - wailing.  not so much for their dead leader, but because this is the first time in so many years that the people have had an opportunity to openly mourn  the family members who have been killed without it looking un-patriotic. 

i think, how many millions currently live in this much fear?  how many weigh every word and action on the scales of political dogma?  who think that love and joy and play are reserved for the rich, or have died altogether with the past?

i recognize that this is not lighthearted "happy new year" fare, but it seems important to me that as i look back over my last year of life - the extreme blessing that i experience in family and country and faith - that i at least let myself glimpse the opposite reality and send up a prayer. 

i pray for God's kingdom to come.  this year.  i pray for light in dark places, for relief in struggle, for kindness in pain, for fruitfulness in barrenness.  and how will this come without Christ?  and how do i bring the kingdom through my life?  is loving my neighbour and buying fair trade coffee and recycling enough?  what can be done?  what can i do Lord? 

what can i do?

i will follow your lead Lord.  i will lay down my life where You ask me to.  i will make sacrifices in order to give to others.  i will work hard to spend my money wisely, being careful that my purchases do not increase the burdens of others.  i will rest and play and love because You have ordained it, and these actions reflect your character and desire for humanity.  i will watch for Your kingdom, and welcome it's arrival wherever it is found.  i will love my children and encourage them to look to the needs of others.  i will trust that You know what You're doing God, even when circumstances seem to say otherwise.

these are my resolutions for the year ahead.  i hope that somehow the world is a better place in a year's time.