About Me

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I now live in Victoria, after a couple years on the North Shore of Vancouver, and a (too) brief time in the prairies. Working as an artist, mother and wife (not necessarily in that order), i am striving to live well, to find the truth of God in all things, and to pass on this truth to others.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013


well, June has arrived. 
i was beginning to think we would perpetually live in May, the month felt like it lasted for years.  but, no, it seems the world is still spinning despite my stress level, and our last month here has come.  and with it, the count-downs.

less than four weeks to pack the house.
four more sundays.
three weeks of school.
one more bookclub.
one more prayer meeting with my girlfriends.
and countless tears to cry.

on sunday afternoon i was feeling manic - twirling like a dervish around my house, cleaning, packing, organizing...i saw the look of fear in my husbands eyes, my children creeping around me hoping i would pass them by.  i made myself sit down and work on a puzzle, and then i felt the tears coming.  at first my eyes would start welling up, and i'd think "here it comes", and then the tap would dry out.  this happened a few times, and with each dry well experience came a deeper clarity that i really needed a bawl.  a good shoulder-shaking, ugly-faced, snot running precariously close to my mouth break down.  finally my husband asked if i was alright, and he held me a little, and shazam!  open the flood gates!!!

this was my first good weep since we announced our resignation, and let me tell you, it was well overdue.  i have since felt so much calmer and normal (if there is such a thing as me being normal).  i remember hearing in university about this experiment where they fed tears to rats or mice or something and they all died of horrible diseases.  have i blogged about that before?  i'm feeling deja-vu.  anyways, obviously our tears are our body's way of releasing not only sadness and pain but toxins as well.  which scares me for my husband, who rarely has a drop leak out.  maybe i should "accidentally" slam his hand in the car door or something, for the sake of his health.

despite the sadness and sense of impending loss, there have been some delightfully beautiful moments in our lives this last week.  my son has finally released himself from the tyranny of training wheels, ushering in a new kingdom where we can actually bike to school!  on monday scott and i biked over and picked up both the kids, and we rode through the back pathways home, skirting around the zoo and forestry farm, and cheering mightily at the finish line of our garage.  i have dreamt of biking with the kids to and from school for a long time now, and it was quite an accomplishment.  I looked around at my little family, and down at flavia (that's my bike), and couldn't have been happier.

i have taken a few opportunities to lie on my hammock in the backyard, and have fallen asleep to the rustling of the neighbours poplar trees.  i watched excitedly as my very first iris bloomed in the front yard.  we daily check on the robins nest to see if the eggs have hatched, and i can look out my front window and watch the mama robin sitting on her little blue bundles. 

amid the boxes and tape and lists and phone calls and reminders and good-byes, this beautiful world keeps peeking through.  little gifts to look for.  praises to be offered. 

and toxic tears to shed.

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