why

i've been struck with the question why this easter season. 

last sunday (palm sunday), while doing my hair, i had the thought that it sure would have been great to have done an installation at the church for easter.  i thought about a painting i saw while in north van, one that an artist at our new church had done for last easter - a black canvas with a lamb.  it got me imagining.  by the time i made it to church i had a rough idea.  i grabbed two artists and pitched it, and by thursday it was hung.  four canvases, one for each day of the weekend:  sacrifice for good friday, darkness for saturday, resurrection for sunday, and ascension for monday.  i was in charge of saturday and monday. 

does the easter weekend saturday have a special name?  maybe holy saturday?  i like to call it dark saturday, or black saturday - but i usually get some awkward looks from my husband.  i think it's one of the most meaningful days of the year for me.  a day of utter despair and hopelessness and fear.  i know, this makes me sound totally morbid.  i find it hard to relate to the feeding of 5000 or lazarus stumbling stinkily out of the tomb, i have no grid for walking on water or watching my hero be crucified.  but i can relate to disillusionment and frustration.  i can sink myself into the story of the disciples on this saturday, huddled and broken, totally bewildered. 

i think of Christ's last words "my God, why have you forsaken me?".  they must have rung in the minds of the twelve (well, eleven) all day.  why?  why?  why? 

sometimes i feel it is my duty as a Christian to not ask the question why.  to just accept, and trust, and stuff my disappointment and move on - but not so.  i actually worship a God who chose to fully enter the human experience, even to the point of groaning this question that plagues us all:  why?  Jesus models to me that there are times when it is appropriate to struggle with the Creator God of the universe.  that He is not immune to our despair, that He can handle our anger and incredulity. 

incredible.

what a gift.  to serve a master who understands me so deeply. who gets the breadth of the human experience.  from utter despair to incredible joy.   

these days i'm asking why we have only had two years in saskatoon, a land that i truly love.  why the upheaval for our family again.  why the stress and strain.  why do i have to leave these friends, this home, and opportunities here.  and i truly am experiencing Christ's comfort in my questions.  i'm even seeing some answers in how scott's leaving is igniting great conversation for positive change in our church.  i have hope that my future is secure.

because Jesus was not only a human.  He is and was also God.  and so, while i am directing my whys at the sky, i am comforted that He is reigning: immovable, reliable, with a desire for only justice since he has experienced profound injustice, with empathy for my frustration and confidence that He holds me. 

 

i serve a risen saviour, he's in the world today

i know that he is living, whatever men may say

i see his hand of mercy i hear his voice of cheer

and just the time i need him, he's always near.

nuts

this morning my daughter sat at the breakfast table (which, in case you were wondering, is the same as the lunch and dinner table), and said "well, it's official.  i'm nuts".
scott replied "if you were truly nuts you wouldn't know it.  i think that's one of the components of losing your mind, you don't notice it's gone" (or something to that effect, probably not as eloquent).

hmmm.

i beg to differ sweet husband.

last week i went nuts.  and i knew it. 

our house went on the market last monday, and on that day and the next 6 to follow it i cleaned my home from top to bottom.  every day.  i felt like my eyes were dirt magnets, capable of finding the smallest scuff, the errant dust, the hidden fingerprint.  i was a dirt spy.  a dirt detective.  the sherlock holmes of house care. 

my poor children.

on tuesday, only day 2 of my psychosis, we got into the car to drive my daughter to school and she cried "OH LORD!!!  sell our house!!!"  it was a cry of passion, a psalmian lament from deep within her. 

and, Praise the Lord above, He listened.  we had an offer by wednesday, and the conditions should be lifted and the sale final by this coming friday.

so, you're thinking, what's your problem Janet?  why the melt down when your house was only on the market for less than a week?  i think my poor little anxiety meter was still bruised from our last move.  two and a half years seems to have not been enough time to forgive and forget.  i went right back into the crisis mode of the fall of 2010 - my husband was already here in saskatoon and i was still in cloverdale BC, with two little ones and our house for sale.  i was a clean maniac.  i remember yelling "spit in the hole, not in the sink!!!".  i had this routine of getting the kids up and cleaning behind them as they dressed and worked their way downstairs for breakfast - beds made and bathroom clean before cereal even hit their little lips.  i told myself i would be prepared for anything - a last minute showing or interested neighbour.  i had cookie dough waiting in the freezer and would throw in a batch whenever anyone came through the house, so it smelled like deliciousness, and so i'd have a little note and fresh cookies for the prospective buyers.  imagine the tizzy i would fly into if the realtor didn't show!!  two months of escalating craziness.

and i was right back there starting day one of this sale.  it didn't help that somehow we missed the fact that scott was going away on a staff planning retreat for three days.  he left the day the house went on MLS, and there was a showing that night.  as soon as i realized what situation i was in AGAIN - selling a house with two kids and no husband to help - BLAM!  a little switch in my brain went from sane to nuts. 

i think the switch has been flicked back.  but, if scott's right, i wouldn't really know would i? 

i'm comforted by the fact that my kids have stopped pleading with God (at least, out loud), that i ignored dirt today (although it was difficult) and that i haven't wiped down our bathroom since saturday.  baby steps to healing.

hold on to your hats

the big news is:  there's a "for sale" sign on my lawn, stuck into close to six feet of snow.  silly me, i asked the realtor "how are you going to get it into the ground?", she smiled graciously and explained the one benefit of having a small ski-hill on your front yard:  sign placement.

we're moving again.

back to BC.  back to flowers and green and rain and grey.  to North Vancouver to be precise - which will be a stretch for us as a family, and for me personally, in many ways.  i am directionally challenged, so the idea of living anywhere with the name "Vancouver" attached to it is a little daunting.  thankfully North Van is stuck between the ocean and mountains, so that's two directions that should be pretty straightforward.  when we moved here scott felt lost without the mountains "i always knew which direction i was going in".  my internal reaction:  "what a good idea - using the mountains!".  yes, i'm that challenged.

thankfully, as opposed to last time, our realtor here is a woman who made all of the needed "oooh" and "ahhh" sounds my little housewife heart was hoping for. she said "you don't need to change a thing" and i nearly busted my buttons. hallelujah! that must be one of my favourite sentences (note to husband).

though we love our church here, scott's fit in his role as associate pastor has not been the best.  we feel hungry for a smaller church again, for intimacy and vulnerability and casual gatherings.  for the arts and church meals and family.  we think, well, we're pretty positive, we've found our fit in Cappilano Community Church.  so, starting August first, scott will be their new lead pastor.  which i suppose puts me back in the lead pastor's wife shoes again (lord have mercy). 

we're excited.

and we're sad.

and we're happy.

and we're heartbroken.

it's like a roller coaster around here.  God has helped make the move away from our beloved saskatoon a little easier by putting us in a deep freeze since october.  however, i know that before we leave i will see my backyard verdant green again, and my tree full of leaf, and the parks climbing with children, and the river rolling.  ah, saskatoon, how i love you.

we now embark on the journey of three-months of goodbyes.  which is easier, the slow withdrawal which extends a less painful pain; or the quick rip of agony?  i'm not sure.  leaving BC was one good-bye party too many.  i think my bookclub had it's "last club with Janet!" at least three times while we were waiting for the house to sell.  i'm praying this move will be more straightforward.  my friends did get to use the "but janet's moving!!!" card for months though - much to their poor husbands chagrin.

i feel like i've been a bit of a hermit of late, shying away from conversations because i was not yet able to share the biggest things happening in my life.  but now, the words out, and i'm ready to play! 

as long as you come here to play, i don't want to drive in this weather.



off i go to create meaningful memories with as many people as humanly possible.  and sell a house.  and buy a house.  and comfort my crying daughter and my friend ruth who has hinted she would rather i'd just die (she has a bit of an aversion to good-byes).  and eat some more meat and veggies. 

all in a days work.

i'm a cave girl

so, i went to a naturopath on friday regarding my 'issues' (if you read this blog often you'll know what they are).  she suggested i go on the "paleo" diet, otherwise knows as the 'caveman' diet, as a sort of elimination of all foods that might in the least way be problematic for me.  this is a pretty popular eating regime at the moment, based on the fact that cavemen were a much healthier human race than our current average homosapien.  here's a little explanation i found online at "nerdfitness.com".

You see, tens of thousands of years ago, before Nike, Cap’n Crunch, and Healthy Choice meals, our ancient ancestors thrived as hunter-gatherers. Although it’s been a really long time, our genetics haven’t changed that much since then. The average Homo Sapien back then: tall, muscular, agile, athletic, and incredibly versatile.The average Homo Sapien now: overweight, out of shape, stressed out, unhappy, sleep deprived and dying from a myriad of preventable diseases.So what the hell happened? Agriculture! A few thousand years ago humans discovered farming, the agricultural revolution took off, and we advanced from hunter-gatherers to farmers. We settled down, formed societies, and the human race progressed to what we are today.

so, according to this diet philosophy if we all eat like cavemen and exercise more we will return to our pre-agricultural fitness levels.  i see a little problem.  although i'm now eating as a hunter-gatherer, i am neither hunting nor gathering (unless you can call a trip to costco gathering, which, after hunting for a parking spot, making my way through the jungle of options without going bankrupt, braving the cash lines, and running my son over with the cart in the parking lot, seems to come close).  i don't think my 20 minutes of jillian micheals will compare with a life of foraging for berries and chasing down wild boar. 

another thought, these ancestors of ours weren't only hunter-gatherers, they were hunted and gathered.  the weekly run-from-the-hungry-t-rex must have been great for muscular endurance!  i think they would gladly trade their healthy lifestyle of losing a limb to a giant predator for some tv and nachos. 

and writing a letter in stone - that takes muscles!

obviously i'm a bit cynical, and more than a little ticked off that now when we're invited to some one's house for dinner i have to say we're "gluten-, dairy-, tree nut-, grain-, and sugar-free".   that's more than two ENTIRE food groups people.  coming up with a meal list this week felt like a herculean effort. but it's done, and here's hoping my son quickly gets over his aversion to green foods.

and that i can say goodbye to cheese.  sniff.  when the naturopath said "no dairy" i put my head down on her desk and said "give me a moment to adjust".

i think this calls for a haiku.

goodbye cheese.

 

even though you make

me gasey, i do love you.

boursin, cheddar, brie.

 

glad i cannot have

a cracker or i'd miss you

terribly. good bye.

thankfully, this is only for the next six weeks.  at least, that's the current plan.  i was hoping to celebrate easter with chocolate (what could be holier?), but my lent will have to live on a little longer.

there is a silver lining i suppose:  i can still eat bacon.  if you're in the area, feel free to stop in for the bacon-wrapped vegetable of the day, and if you're lucky i'll let you see my six-pack once it arrives.

in with the old

we just returned from a whirlwind trip to BC, and i'm still feeling a little spinney.  the first few days were spent in washington, with scott's parents, at a time share in port townsend.  have you ever been there?  it's on the olympic peninsula - where coincidentally 'forks' also resides, but not to worry, i did not glimpse either a vampire, werewolf or sulking teenage girl.  the town is filled with architecture from the late 1800s, beautiful little shops, a couple lighthouses (one of which i was told you could rent for an evening), and many thrift stores chock-a-block full of rich peoples discards.  bliss! 

i have never been one for antiques.  my father versed me from an early age on the philosophy "why buy something old when you can get it new?".  i have this dear friend, however, who is winning me over to the old side.  her house (yes, lindsey, i'm talking about you here) is filled with little treasures snagged from garage sales or small town thrift.  every time i enter i take some time to walk around, feasting on the eye candy of little vignettes positioned just so - an antique vase with a fern planted in it beside a snow-globe-like-object containing a small plastic deer, a sea shell and a cloth covered book.  i look at that dear little deer, caught forever behind glass, and think 'how did she know'?  i never would have seen the possibility of greatness. 

but, i thought i'd give it a shot this week and i think that, for my first foray into an antique store (with the intention of buying something) i came out alright!  i bought four little student slates - those personal black boards students would use before paper was cheap.  i'm going to use them as place mats - i did tonight in fact.  and i wrote out the menu on one of them.  why not?  my daughter tried to read it off as the "big reveal" of dinner, but she didn't add enough theatrics so i had to take over.  "just to give you the general idea" i explained.  i can picture beatrice potter walking around lindsey's house and then running off in a fit of inspiration.  it's one of my favourite places in saskatoon (the fact that it's inhabited by one of my favourite people might also have something to do with it).

on the weekend two people referred to me as "lovely".  separately.  let me be clear - to different people at separate times told me that i'm "lovely".  what a treat!! i had that scene from downton abby play out in my mind, where edith says "if you think i'm going to let a man go who's called me "lovely" you're mistaken!" (or something to that effect).  it was on the tip of my tongue, but since i was complimented by a man that i hardly knew, it was a little too chancy. 

my my, i must be maturing -  thought before action!!! 

there is something sublime about being referred to by the word, like you've been transported back to an age when affirmations were a little higher brow.  i mean, usually i hear things like "dang girl!  you look hot in that skirt!".  "lovely" has a much more eloquent ring. 

truth be told, i'll take any positive affirmation that even flies close to me.
sadly, the same can probably be said about the opposite.  ah, well, one giant step towards maturity at a time, thank you very much.  i need to leave some room for growth in my 40s.

love and ashes

does anyone else think it's a little incongruous to have ash wednesday the day before valentines?  a feast of sacrifice before a celebration of romance?  true, tomorrow is named after a saint, but i'm having a hard time finding much information about mr. valentine except for:
a) there are many saints which carry the name valentine, and a few of them died on Feb. 14th (note:  if you are a dedicated Catholic, prone to miracles and with the last name "Valentine", make sure your life insurance policy is up to date immediately)
b) he tried to convert the emporer Claudius, and was beheaded for the attempt.

here's the most interesting tidbit i found:

Saints are not supposed to rest in peace; they're expected to keep busy: to perform miracles, to intercede. Being in jail or dead is no excuse for non-performance of the supernatural. One legend says, while awaiting his execution, Valentinus restored the sight of his jailer's blind daughter. Another legend says, on the eve of his death, he penned a farewell note to the jailer's daughter, signing it, "From your Valentine."

St. Valentine was a Priest, martyred in 269 ... He is the Patron Saint of affianced couples, bee keepers, engaged couples, epilepsy, fainting, greetings, happy marriages, love, lovers, plague, travellers, young people. He is represented in pictures with birds and roses.

 

lovers, happy marriages, plague and epilepsy.  these saints don't dissapoint!  i wonder what i would be the patron saint of?  clean bathrooms, cheese, loud laughter and paint stains.  represented in pictures with norwex cloths and boursin.

 

scott asked me what i'm giving up for Lent.  i told him i'm giving up giving up.  for some reason i feel strongly that someone who is already off of all sugar, SURELY should not be required to sacrifice more!  but, what i really mean, is that i'm going to stop the fatalistic mood swings i am prone to in this sugar-free journey.  for 40 days i'm hoping to give up despair.

 

 

my mother-in-law sent me a link to a delightful little blog (www.sisterssuitcaseblog.com) for valentine craft ideas.  they have free templates to download, and i couldn't resist this one that says "we go together like _______________ & _____________".  you put it in a frame and use a dry erase marker to keep changing the blanks.  well, i came downstairs one morning and was greeted with this

 

can you read that?  it says "bella & edward".  now, tell me, did i not marry the right man for me?  that is just the right amount of cheesy and ridiculous, and yet, suprisingly meaningful to me! (sigh, love me in my lameness). later i noticed he had changed it to "jacob and renesmee", but i think that was going a little too far. 

 

 

well friends, i hope that the patron saint of fainting finds you swooning in love tomorrow - or that your Lenten journey begins with a day brimming with love from your God.   personally,  i'm hoping for both!

 

retro

i walked into the school today, little boy in tow, and was perusing the lost and found table when the vice principle came up to me.
"i hear you have crabs" he said.

first thought:  'it's just a yeast infection!'  praise you Lord Jesus that this thought did not escape through my lips.

second thought: 'who's spreading this rumour about me?'
i replied with a very dignified "WHAT?!"

he looked at my face, began to register what had just been said, and quickly stammered "crabs in your house!  crabs in your house!"

ah, yes.  our pets.  we have hermit crabs and my kids brought them to school yesterday for show and tell.  i said to this quickly reddening school administrator "we call them HERMIT crabs, not just crabs".

i walked away thinking who can i tell?  who can i tell?  you!!  i love it when life reads like a novel.

i've been thinking lately about how my young years must appear to my children.  no internet.  i mean, i can hardly fathom it myself!  we had to actually go to libraries and look through encyclopedias to find out answers to trivia, and use dictionaries to check word spelling.  we had to spell!  and at the library we used microfiche to look at old periodicals - which sounds very spy-tech, but was really extremely boring.  i typed my papers on a typewriter.  i struggled with the white-out - the strangely repulsive and alluring smell....could i really get high from it?  i took drafting and gleefully laid out my rulers and mechanical pencils.  marks for penmenship - i'm in heaven!

my parents did not think it was right to own a VCR - they were also led to believe that movie theatres were filled with drunken smokers and would surely lead me down the path to hell.  imagine their surprise when i told them it was smoke free and that the most dangerous drink item was jolt!  anyways, obviously i didn't see many movies as a kid, which is why i was ALWAYS the last one to sleep at slumber parties.  i was the one to swoon over ralph macchio and then turn off the VCR, then the lights, and pick my way over the sleeping bodies to my blankets.  how could they all miss it? 

we would rent a VCR player (beta or vhs?) from the local video store for birthday parties.  i remember walking in, so excited and giddy to be on this threshold of maturity, and my mother said "look in the section over there - R - for religious".  so, over to the R section my little body goes - i'm probably 10? - and i start looking at the movies.  i quickly start to recognize my mother has made a horrible terrible mistake.  i'm looking at the backs of the boxes - yikes!  in those days if something was rated R, they meant it.  my mom finally came over to me (she'd been renting the machine) and, as well quite quickly, saw her error.  wrong section!  wrong section!!

we owned a car phone - which i remember as this box that sat on the hump on the floor between the seats of the car (what happened to that hump?) with a phone that looked like an army walkie-talkie.  i'm curious to know if that is actually true, was the phone actually that humungous?  no, on second thought, i'd rather believe it, even if it is a lie.  i had this sneaking suspiscion that my dad was no ordinary accountant - what accountant would have a car phone?   something so sleek and cutting-edge... he must be CIA. 

i wonder if my kids think of me like i thought of my mom when i heard she had an outhouse as a child.  like i grew up in "the olden days", in a world so far from this one, how could i ever understand what they're going through?  i'm sure the fact that i'm not on facebook isn't helping.  i mean, in all honesty, i think of life before PVR and i wonder, how did i cope?

on that note, Downton Abby has left me crying two weeks in a row, and i've decided i'd like to be referred to as "darling".  why not embrace my old-timer self?

i suddenly have a hankering to make a mix tape.  with "nothing compares to you" on it at least twice.  i'd make you a copy but my white ghetto blaster with the "fast dub" option is, i believe, in my parents garage.  was it really called a ghetto blaster?  were they invented in the ghetto?

okay, i'm not sure how to end this blog, because, as i'm sure you're realizing, i could just go on and on.  so, there.  i'm stopping.