Life as Two

Sunday

2012-02-12T06:00:00.000-05:00

Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven, where Christ sits in the place of honor at God’s right hand.

Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God.

And when Christ, who is your life, is revealed to the whole world, you will share in all his glory.

~ Colossians 3:1-4 ~

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Joining Deidra this morning:

The Gap: On Unexpected Joy

2012-02-07T05:00:00.001-05:00

This post is the fifth in a series called The Gap. Please click here to read from the beginning.

There were many things on this journey that I wasn't expecting. I wasn't expecting to be able to picture a future without children. I could not have anticipated the peace that came with realizing our life without children wasn't a detour but the main road. As my friend Peggy often reminds me: we were a family of two from the moment we said 'I do'... we just had to embrace it.

Everything about that embrace seemed awkward at best. I wrapped bulky arms around a future I didn't fully understand trying not to stab my wounded heart or battered body in the process. Infertility had left me broken. I won't deny it. Even being a fat girl from childhood didn't make me feel as broken and useless as being unable to conceive or carry a child. Our child.

I stood on the cusp of this embrace a shattered shell of a woman. My identity sought repair in the hands of the Master, but my heart clung to the lingering pain... a permament memoir of a painful truth: I was infertile. Embrace this life or no, this body was a shadow of what it was meant to be.

I didn't expect healing. Looking back, perhaps I should have. Most of what I experienced as my faithful Saviour led me down this road had been unexpected. I should have known that the Giver of every good and perfect gift (James 1:17) would not (could not!) leave me shattered in grief. He had not left me there when my mother died... He wasn't about to leave me there now.

I can remember the first moments when the healing felt real: trying not to be distracted by the adorable child sitting beside me in the church pew, a number of things made my heart stop in my throat. First was the fact that I found the child adorable, not irritating. Infertility can alter your view of that thing you want most... seeing babies and children everywhere can be a painful thing. The second was my response to the wee girl's desire to cuddle. Leaning with warm weight against me, she wiggled her arm beneath mine, popped her thumb in her mouth and sent me a winsome grin. She was asleep in moments. Her mother sent me an apologetic look and I silently shook my head.

It was the quiet joy that ultimately surprised me. It welled up full and free as I strained to find that (suddenly distant) feeling of grief. For the first time in many years I didn't feel broken and infertile, and for the first time I believed I could be free. Perhaps not immediately, but someday...

But the joy? That joy was a gift I didn't dare ask for. In His strength I will accept this life, I thought to myself, and we will make it work. But to find joy in it? And for that joy to be only occasionally tempered by sorrow?

That is a good and perfect gift.
The unasked-for, unworthy gift.
A byproduct of life on this side of grace.

It is the miracle we never prayed for, and more beautiful than we could imagine.

Sunday

2012-02-05T05:00:00.000-05:00

Your word is a lamp to my feet

and a light for my path.

Psalm 119:105

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Linking up with Deidra this morning...

Week 17

2012-02-04T21:56:00.000-05:00

I am sitting here listening to Peter Furler and digesting my amazing birthday dinner, at the same time enjoying your photos for the week. Thanks so much for continuing to play along! I find that some weeks I completely forget that I'm also supposed to take photos, so when I see your comments come in via my email I am thankful that each of you remembers!

I was thinking, however, of moving this to a biweekly challenge since a few of you have mentioned that the time crunch can be a bit much. What are your thoughts? Shall we give ourselves a bit more time to take our photos? Life gets busy, after all... Please leave your feedback in the comments!

The letters on the iPhone keyboard are definitely something smaller than my thumb (or, in the case of this photo, The Len's thumb):

Something borrowed. Ahem. Uh, Jenn? Look what The Len found:

The 92nd page of one of our favourites:

My faves from this week...
Karen's Cheerios are thankfully smaller than her thumb:

Marianne's photo of something borrowed is very clever:

And lastly, Erica's 92nd page requires you to find the wee yellow duck:

Thanks for playing, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

A blue building
Something fishy
Something that starts with the letter 'N'

Have fun!

Sunday

2012-01-29T05:00:00.000-05:00

My soul finds rest in God alone;

my salvation comes from him.

He alone is my rock and my salvation;

he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

~ Psalm 62:1

Linking up with Deidra on this day of rest:

Week 16

2012-01-28T20:37:00.000-05:00

Happy Saturday, friends! I hope you had as enjoyable day as we did here. It was a rather blustery day... perfect for running minimal errands, enjoying a lovely dinner with family and generally staying in where it is warm. And enjoying the ones you love.

And, of course, to take a few photos. I actually took all my photos this week, so that should be considered impressive. (Go ahead, I can pause whilst you applaud.)

I'm outing myself a bit here, but blue is the pouch I carry to and from my Weight Watchers meetings (down 3.6 pounds this week, thank you very much):

My favourite mug... also happens to be the mugs that came with my new dinnerware set:

And what better transportation than my tootsies?

Earlier today, Esther asked whether she still had time to take her photos. I confirmed that she did while also informing her that Erica's whale picture would be winning the 'something blue' category hands down. See?

And then Esther posted a photo of the Genie from Aladdin, and I've been singing songs from Aladdin since seeing it. Payback...

Rachel probably doesn't know that I love Georgia O'Keefe but I do. Like, a lot:

Esther's transportation photo also made me smile:

Thanks for playing, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

Something smaller than your thumb
Something borrowed
The 92nd page of any book

Have fun!

seventeen

2012-01-27T05:00:00.000-05:00

My parents and three eldest siblings

Dear Mama,
We had to say goodbye to you seventeen years ago today. Seventeen years. More than half my life.

I miss you. That doesn't seem to fade much over the years. Sometimes it catches me off guard and whisks my breath away. Other times I pour a cup of tea and imagine you there with me. In those moments I imagine us chatting over steaming cups and I can almost hear your laugh. I type this with my eyes closed, picturing you... your eyes, your smile.

I see more of you in me now. I look at photos and realize as I age (mature) I look more like you each year and I am so thankful. More than the eyes and the shape of our mouths, I realize I'm learning to love as you did, trust the Lord as you did. I want your laugh lines, your knowledge of grace.

I miss you. I miss you but we're doing alright. More than alright, really. We are oh-so blessed. Even here on this messy side of grace we are knee-deep in myriad blessings.

Until our next cup of tea...

All my love,
your baby girl

The Gap: On Identity

2012-01-26T05:00:00.000-05:00

This post is the fourth in a series called The Gap. Please click here to read from the beginning.

I wish I could say this didn't almost break me.

I wish I could say that walking this road was easier than the initial days of infertility... those days of testing and diagnosis and intensely invasive and disappointing clinic visits. I wish I could sit here and assure you that the growing pains of embracing our life as two weren't harder than all the roller-coaster months of hope and disappointment while we tried to conceive.

I can't.

Walking this road nearly shattered me.

There is something about trying to conceive or pursuing parenthood that provides a sense of identity. Struggling with infertility we may be, but there is identity rooted in a desired role that we are moving towards. I've written about this before and it is very easy to buy into the lie that, as women, we are what we do. I'm a mom. I'm a career woman. I'm a teacher. I'm this thing that I wake up each morning to do. We easily entangle who we are with what we do.

Infertility messes that up more than a little. So often we hear 'All I've ever wanted to be was a mom' or 'I'm meant to be a mom'... and more often than not the women speaking those phrases are blessed with beautiful miracles. And those of us who aren't?

It feels melodramatic to call it an identity crisis. I had spent years consumed with a role I needed to fill that I had forgotten who I really was. I sat in church each Sunday feeling like a sham, a shadow of a woman, a pathetic wannabe. My life felt inadequate compared to motherhood. My job, though satisfying and enjoyable, felt like a mediocre waste of time compared to the noble task of motherhood. I overcompensated with my time and energies, desperately hoping others would notice the busy woman I was even though I wasn't eking out the existence of the haggard, sleep-deprived, no sick-days, 24/7 mom.

And it nearly shattered me.

Not only me, apparently. I will never forget the day I read my friend Kristi's words:

I didn't know who I was - almost like a bit of identity crisis. Was it enough to be a wife without being a mother? Was that significant enough? Those were the types of questions I really struggled with.

As I reached for more of Christ I realized that my identity wasn't even in being a wife. I identify with that role but it is not my identity. My identity is wholly wrapped up in the loving arms of my Saviour who died on a cross to take all of my sin so that we could spend eternity together. That is who I am. I wish I had known that at the beginning so that the journey would have felt a little more secure.

After reading Kristi's words, I began to plead with God to open my eyes to my true identity. I don't even remember how many times over the next few weeks and months I saw the words of Isaiah 43:1... in blog posts, in sermons, in devotional reading, in signs at the Christian bookstore:

You are mine.
You are mine.
You are mine.

I wish I could say that I embraced that truth immediately. I don't want to admit that for a period of time being a beloved, bought-with-blood child of my Heavenly Father still felt 'less than'. I desperately desire to lie to you and say that I'm past this hurdle... that it no longer remains my lingering struggle when it comes to embracing this life.

God is faithful. He is good. All the time. His love and mercy have brought me more healing and joy than I could have imagined possible. And the deep peace that wakes with me each morning in the blue-grey light of dawn has with it a growing confidence that I am His and He is all I need. And that, my friends, is pure, undeserved grace: my lifeblood and the anchor of my soul.

The Gap: On Guilt

2012-01-17T05:00:00.000-05:00

This post is the third in a series called The Gap. Please click here to read from the beginning.

We were driving home from church. It was a bright, sunny day and the roads were quiet for a Sunday morning.

'I've been thinking...' I wasn't sure how to have this conversation. We were a year out from our decision to halt our adoption plans. We were loving life and rarely spoke about adoption or children. I had been wrestling quietly on my own, deeply longing to reach the point that The Len always seemed to return to: if it ends up just being to two of us, I'm okay with that. I had never understood his quiet peace about it. Even now, broaching the conversation in the car, I didn't fully understand but I had a question I needed to ask him.

'I've been thinking about that decision we made last May,' I continued. He was driving and I was able to watch his face. His lips tightened reflexively.

'And you want to start the adoption process again,' he finished, clearly disheartened. I smiled.

'Actually... no.' For future reference, is it not recommended to have these conversations while driving.

As I fumbled through my explanation that perhaps we were right where we were supposed to be, I leaned in to ask my question: 'Do you not feel guilty about that? Does this not feel horribly selfish?'

I had moved from confusion and uncertainty and bone-grinding pain to niggling, irritating guilt. It nibbled at my contentment and plucked at the threads of peace that held my heart together. On those days when infertility pain would rear its ugly head, I would silently recite everything I loved about our life... spontaneity, sleeping in, not having to share The Len, not needing a larger house, not facing all the relentless burning questions that inevitably arise with infertility and parenting.

Everything about my list felt selfish. My list made parenting sound like a world of petty annoyances even though I knew it was more than that. Was I too selfish to tackle it? There were millions of orphans needing homes... so many thousands in our own city. Was I choosing lazy Saturdays or popcorn for dinner because I preferred sleeping over rising to comfort a crying child?

Len's answer was simple: 'If God does not intend to crown our marriage with children, where is the guilt?'

And therein lay the heart of my problem: in learning to embrace our life as two I was adopting a similar (though somewhat less severe) attitude as I had when we pursued parenthood. 'This is my plan, Lord,' I cried, 'Please place your stamp of approval here, with some indication of when it shall all come to pass.' In my mind, I was working through this in order to figure out what I was supposed to do with my life. A small part of me understood that this was well beyond anything my little heart or mind could have dreamed up, but I was still intending to sort through it all on my own. Guilt included.

Since the beginning of time, however, God has been far better at handling guilt than we have. Washing it right away? That's His best, most beautiful, most perfect work. 'That isn't yours to carry,' He whispers, 'Let Me take that.'

The Len had quietly placed his desire to be a father in the same Hands he had placed his desire for a wife. Had God not blessed him with a wife, he would not have lived a selfish life. Marriage isn't easy, nor is parenting. Living a life without one, the other or both should not give birth to restless guilt.

That Sunday conversation reminded me yet again that a life lived for the Lord desires His will first and lives from the confidence that regardless of what that life brings, He will provide us the grace, strength and perseverance to live it for Him.
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Please tune in next week as we explore the many other emotions that came with this adjustment.
If you have specific questions as we go along, please leave a question in the comments and I would be happy to address them.

Sunday

2012-01-15T20:54:00.002-05:00

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

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Linking up with Deidra

Week 15

2012-01-14T20:30:00.000-05:00

Well shoot. I'm all behind here. And from the look of the contributions, you all had busy weeks as well. According to my father-in-law, that's a good thing because it keeps us out of trouble.

I will be digging into the archives today...

A silhouette? This would be The Len watching them prep our plane for our 2010 trip to British Columbia:

Something soft... and cuddly... and orange...

Reflections in water from our camping trip this summer:

The only contributor this week was Karen, so all of her pics are my favourite! Please hop on over to her place and check out her photos! Thanks for joining in the fun, Karen!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

Something blue
Your favourite mug
Transportation

Have fun!

The Gap: On Confusion

2012-01-10T05:00:00.000-05:00

Last week we looked at the second post in a mini-series titled The Gap, in which we are exploring the road that took us from pursuing parenthood to embracing our life as two.

We left off last week standing ankle-deep in confusion and uncertainty. For four years, I had desired a single thing: to be a mom. To be now standing in the midst of a childless life and imagining a future without children was a crushing blow. The very notion of accepting this life knifed through me like betrayal: to my desire for children, for the children I had spent hours praying for, for my friends who were talking this road with me.

To say that I was confused is an understatement. There is no manual for embracing a life without children. There are books and blogs about how to get and stay pregnant. There are support websites for miscarriage and adoption and foster parenting. There is very little out there on how to find joy in embracing the life given. I was confused and alone. And so I withdrew... disappeared until I could make sense of it all.

A myriad questions tore through my heart:

If I choose to love this life, does it mean I never desired children in the first place?
Was I just giving up? This didn't feel like the easier route, but maybe it was?
What would my infertile friends think? Would they consider me on the 'other side' of infertility?
How do you live this life?
Does this mean I will always be 'less' of a woman?
What is my role in life if I am not a mom?
What is my identity?
Will this always hurt this much?
Has God forgotten me?
Will I ever be able to be around kids never my own?

The questions were deep and challenging. As I wrestled with each one I began to realize what I was truly doing. I was choosing this life. I was choosing to push out against the edges of the Waiting Until Life, cracking and bending the limits of a dream I didn't want to change.

It hurt. Oh, it hurt. There is grief and pain in pushing towards a dream that never seems to get closer, but there is deep, crushing sorrow in realizing the dream was never yours to begin with. Even as I began to realize that it was possible to live this life, and live it fully, the pain was raw and unrelenting. Even as peace seeped in, smoothing the edges with a growing understanding of where God had placed us, the grief of these days was deeper than when we were first diagnosed.

See, I wanted those babies. I dreamed of those babies. I missed those babies with the longing only an infertile woman whose arms are painfully empty will understand. They were children loved and longed for, and they were slipping away from me.

As much as I was learning that God was asking us to stand quietly in the life He had given and embrace it with humble gratitude, I didn't understand why I was the one being asked to make this choice. Why us? I cried, why not the other couples who have moved on with arms filled one, maybe twice or three times?

Of all the questions I discovered answers to, that last remains unanswered. The Len and I have an inkling, perhaps seeing in a mirror though darkly. And perhaps we'll never know. Perhaps one day the Lord will show us, perhaps not. In the end, it doesn't matter. I am simply grateful that the sorrow in the question has been erased.

And questions answered, we were left with a quiet, niggling guilt...
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Please tune in next week as we explore the many other emotions that came with this adjustment.
If you have specific questions as we go along, please leave a question in the comments and I would be happy to address them.

Sunday

2012-01-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

“Listen to me, you descendants of Jacob,

all the remnant of the people of Israel,

you whom I have upheld since your birth,

and have carried since you were born.

Even to your old age and gray hairs

I am he, I am he who will sustain you.

I have made you and I will carry you;

I will sustain you and I will rescue you."
Isaiah 46:3&4

So thankful for the New Year's message preached in our church the Sunday past that reflected on these words. Click here to have a listen to a beautiful message.

Linking up with Deidra this morning:

Week 14

2012-01-07T17:24:00.000-05:00

Welcome back from what I considered an enjoyable, much-needed break. I hope each of you had an enjoyable Christmas and New Year's celebration and are ready to dust off those cameras and get snapping!

I enjoyed all the submissions this week. Here are mine:

Finding an old book was apparently harder to locate than I thought it would be. We ended deciding that the Bible Len received in first grade was the oldest one:

Something that begins with the letter 'R' would be my lovely recipe box. Love the pattern, the button, the birds, the colour. Love, in general:

I was having trouble narrowing down my favourite colour so I asked The Len what colour it was. He insisted it was green. I was leaning towards red, so I decided to catch something green on my red couch. A reluctant Sacha entered the picture to find out why I was fiddling with her new cat toy:

And my favourites from your submissiosn this week:
I had to choose Erica's old book, since I have clear memories of this Rembrandt Bible being in our home:

Karen's photo of her husband, who's name just happens to start with 'R', is perfect:

Rachel gets extra points for using one photo to capture her letter 'R' and her favourite colour:

Good work, friends!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

A silhouette
Something soft
Reflections in water

Have fun!

Five Years

2012-01-05T08:37:00.001-05:00

'Where do you want to be in five years?' he asked. He was leaning back in his chair. We had been at this for almost an hour... him with his questions and me with my answers. I liked him. I had figured that out in the first ten minutes. I liked him and I wanted this job.

Five years...

I paused a moment to reflect. For two and a half years I had been working at a job I hated, endlessly (it seemed) waiting on my real life as a mom to start. Two and a half years thinking I shouldn't look for a new job when I'd only have to give notice because I was pregnant. When a friend asked whether I wanted a change, I leapt at the chance. I was done waiting.

Well, almost.

'Five years?' I paused a moment more. 'I want to be a mom.'

His eyebrows lifted. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned forward and picked up his pen again, tapping it against his pad of paper.

'That...' he said slowly, 'is a very good answer.'

Another hour later he offered me a job.

This week I am celebrating that five year mark. I'm not a mom but I couldn't imagine working anywhere else, or being more grateful for this company and the people I've grown to love here.

I kind of wish he'd ask me the question again this week. I'd love to provide a different answer.

Where would I want to be in five years? Right here. With these people. Doing what I do.

'Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart,
as working for the Lord, not for men,
since you know that you will receive
an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.
It is the Lord Christ you are serving.'
~ Colossians 3:23

The Gap: On Grief

2012-01-03T05:00:00.000-05:00

Several months ago I mentioned my desire to start a new series. At that time, I said 'over the next few weeks' and then took those words, stretching them as far as they would go... into a new year, even. I am not sure whether this stretching of time counts as literary license but I shall pretend that it does.

At any rate, my hope was to bridge the gap between my (then frequent) posts about infertility and my current posts about embracing the joy of the life given.

It is important to remember that infertility is as much about desiring to have children as it is a sort of continual loss. When we marry with the desire to grow our family dreams and expectations arise, naturally for some though not for all. Realizing that infertility will take up a larger part of your life than you ever dreamed is a different facet of the same grief; lost time and lives placed on hold is another. Infertility becomes the medical block standing between us and our children and there is deep grief in a dream shattered monthly.

I remember well uttering the words, 'This isn't my life. This won't be my life. It just can't be...' I am sure I am not the only one who decided that life without children was the worst case scenario... the only unacceptable option.

When we decided to put our adoption plans on hold, in my mind it was never intended to be permanent. My heart and mind relished the chance for a break from the relentless pursuit of parenthood, but I knew at the right time I would head down that road again with determination and persistence. I had a looming object of horror to move swiftly away from. I would not be childless. That was my plan. And I don't mean to sound tongue in cheek about the whole thing but if I am honest I was more earnestly moving away from a childless life than I was moving with joy towards meeting my children.

The question then, is obvious: how does the worst case scenario become the life embraced? How does the source of a deep and shattering grief become the overflow of joy?

There's a reason I call this our miracle... only grace can claim beauty from ashes. Only grace can anchor peace in a tempestuous heart. Only grace...

A few months ago a friend said to me: 'I thought you had just given up. I realize now that you haven't, that this has taken more effort than quitting ever could but I really thought at first that you had just thrown in the towel.'

With our adoption on hold, we allowed our life to be what it was: the life we were choosing to live right now. There was joy here. Contentment. Enjoyment. Peace. Infrequently, I would dip a hesitant toe into the waters of Lake This Could Be My Life, only to gasp and leap back at the chill that tore through me.

And then one day I realized that somehow I was standing ankle deep in that lake, my socks and shoes set neatly on the shore. The fear was still there, quiet and insistent, though not as strong. The grief was intense, confusion and guilt not far behind. I was no longer running to avoid the Life That Couldn't Be... I was standing in the midst of it, having a careful look around.

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Please tune in next week as we explore the many other emotions that came with this adjustment.
If you have specific questions as we go along, please leave a question in the comments and I would be happy to address them.

All things new...

2012-01-02T14:00:00.000-05:00

A few things new, at least. It's a new year, so hopefully a few new things won't disturb anyone's sensibilities? ('A few new things'... that rhymes!)

To be completely transparent, today's newness is thanks to my beautiful and talented friend, Rachel. I gave her a basic idea of what I was looking for, and she turned it into what you see above. Which, coincidentally, I completely and wholeheartedly love. (Above and love also rhyme, fyi.) Thank you so much, Rachel!

I just want to take this time to also remind you that if you would like updates on post directly to your Facebook newsfeed, to head on over and 'Like' the page! There is also the option to subscribe by email over there on the right sidebar.

I've also created a 'Life as Two' button, for those of you who might be interested in placing one on their blog. That's over on the right sidebar as well. Please let me know if you choose to add it to your blog, so I can pop over and say thank you!

And, on a similar note of 'taking care of business', there will be three new clues for Saturday Scavenger this week. We all took a nice break over Christmas, but let's get back at it, shall we? Here are the most recent clues, in case you need a reminder!

Good to be back!

joy {air}

2012-01-01T13:16:00.000-05:00

I can feel it in me, again. Rising slowly and willfully to the surface, crowding the would-be quiet of my bed-time brain, are words. They are bright and clear and as I rest my fingers over the promise of the keyboard and close my eyes, I can almost see them forming and shifting and changing shape. I watch my fingers move over black keys, and something in me *clicks*: oh-so quiet, but audible.

I am a guilty blogger. Through means of self-preservation, I stepped back to find the space my heart needed to endure a flurry of busy, wishing always that I could manage all things and floundering with the growing awareness that I cannot do everything. And worse, the realization that no one asked me to.

And making choices? Choosing needs over wants? That fills me with fear. It has been my overriding emotion of the past months. Fear of failure. Fear of never writing again. Fear of the future.

It feeds on itself and spreads, fear does, gaining strength and size, consuming all the air until you're gasping for something else. Anything else. And so, in an act of desperation I chose joy.

The perfect time of year for it, I suppose. Christmas and January usually fill me with a quiet sense of dread. I needed the fear and decade-old grief to take a long walk off a very short pier. Cliche, I suppose but desperation can often be cliche. I hung garland and light and ornaments, baked sweet treats, sung carols quiet as my heart thudded in my chest, hoping for air and the sweet fragrance of joy.

There were visits and chats over Skype, cold, quiet nights watching old black-and-whites and Muppets singing. Somewhere in the midst of it all I realized that joy is not something that finds us. True, there are moments when it catches us by surprise and whisks our breath away but oftentimes it is a choice we're called to make. Circumstances change and shift; grief lingers and rises in unexpected moments; even happiness seems fleeting at best... but joy? A choice, defiant and brilliant in the face of a busted, hurting world, made solely on the wings of faith.

As The Len and I stood on the cusp of a new chapter in our life (him starting a new job in January and closing the door on school and unemployment) there was fear. So much unknown. Such hesitation to trust. And yet as we looked back... back over one thousand days of grace and love and provision, we remembered yet again that we while we cannot see the future, we can step forward with confidence. God does not change. His mercies are new each morning, but his love and his faithfulness endures forever.

And so we choose joy for 2012 knowing it is the air that we breathe and the solid testimony to others that even in times of sorrow or fear or uncertainty, joy in Christ Jesus makes life possible. Beautiful, even.

Joyous New Year, friends!

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good.

His love endures forever.

~ Psalm 136:1 ~

Week 13

2011-12-10T18:01:00.001-05:00

Happy Saturday, friends! I hope none of you were crazy enough to hit the crowds at the mall today. I was. Christmas shoppers are not my favourite people.

I had a lot of fun taking this week's photos. One photo involved a trip down to the beach and another a slow walk through the neighbourhood on a particularly cold night. I love playing with my camera, however, so they were worth it.

Something abandoned:

Something black and white? Miss Sacha Marie, of course!

Light. I chose this one at this time of year because secretly I wanted to do something with all the Christmas sparkle in the neighbourhood. One slow, crisp walk later:

As for my favourites, I am especially fond of this red barn Rachel took a photo of:

My mom's black and white photo was stunning and apt:

And my father puts my light photo to shame with this amazing photo:

Good work, friends!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

An old book
Something that begins with the letter 'R'
Something in your favourite colour

Have fun!

Week 12 - Playing Catch Up

2011-12-05T21:37:00.001-05:00

Whoooo.... you all thought I'd forgotten, didn't you? Negatory, good buddy.

I did, however, experience an amazing Saturday that was jammed packed with family and food and friends and more food and a delicious two hour nap. And Sunday my computer and I had many words about it trying to die on me, and refusing to cooperate with my blogging efforts (or any other efforts, for that matter). I am here now, though. I apologize for taking away two valuable days of scavenging. Feel free to blame my belligerent 'i-will-just-turn-off-if-i-want-to' laptop.

I am digging into the archives of previous photos for this week, and I'm realizing that I shouldn't call it 'cheating'. Photos are photos, whether they're something you take this week, or something you took seven years ago. Let's share and enjoy them. So I officially declare (as the person who is actually able to declare such things) that it is not cheating to scavenge through the archives for a perfect photo. Thus have I spoken, and thus shall it be.

And so, lest I become excessively forthright and frighten all of you away, something scenic taken in 2008 while camping at MacGregor Point:

Fresh fruit... I love oranges!

The biggest tree:

And for this week's favourites... something scenic from my father, the Old Hunter:

Don't tell The Len that I'm selecting Esther's photo of pineapples (his least favourite fruit):

And for the largest tree, my mother's photo of the pine beetle devastation is sobering:

Good work, friends!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

Something abandoned
Something black and white
Light

Have fun!

Week 11 - Courtesy of The Len

2011-11-26T14:09:00.001-05:00

I'm sitting here curled up with with a wee orange kitten who really isn't that wee anymore. He and I set up our Christmas decorations today, and had a lovely time of it. And then I remembered I hadn't blogged yet, so I hauled The Len away from his studying and sat him down to select his favourites from the many selections of this week.

But first, Archie would like to say hello.

'My stocking. No touchie.'

And now to business. Let's start (as usual) with my photos for the week.

My handmade item is something designed and made by my talented husband:

My unique collectible is something my mother-in-law started buying for me each Christmas until they were discontinued. I think that makes my Gnomies even more unique:

When I turned four, I was delighted to open a present from my mom that was overflowing with handmade doll's clothing. The extra special treat was that she had made me a dress and nightgown to match two of the items. In January I discovered those sweet little articles again, and brought home the dress I loved best:

The Len was very impressed with the handmade items you all took photos of, but he couldn't get over this porcelain doll made by Mom:

He was also intrigued by my father's hanging driftwood collection:

The Len chose Karen's childhood item because of the reason this little yellow dog has special meaning:

Good work, friends!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

Something scenic
Fresh fruit
The biggest tree

Have fun!

Week 10

2011-11-19T09:05:00.001-05:00

Confessional: I am cheating this week. Normally I make sure I take each week's photos that week, but I didn't have a chance this week. I know, excuses excuses. But at least I'm being honest...

It appears many others were busy this week as well, so I have to choose three favourite from the two ladies that submitted. Shouldn't be a problem!

And so for my (archived) photos for the week...

Something well camouflaged... this would be Archie after he climbed into our kitchen island and poked his head out through the curtains. He discovered the cozy basket that holds the pot holders and oven mitts.

An animal that is not someone's pet... the beautiful bird on our bird feeder:

And for a sunset, I went back to a photo I took in the summer of 2009, while camping at Port Burwell:

And my favourites of this week:

Erica's frog is a pretty perfect subject for 'something well camouflaged':

I think I agree with Marianne's assessment that this creature is nobody's pet:

And Marianne? There are no words for this:

Good work, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

This week, your clue-giver and judge will be The Len, so take your photos wisely!
The new clues for this week are:

Something hand made
A unique collectible
Something you’ve kept from your childhood

Have fun!

Week 9

2011-11-12T14:45:00.001-05:00

Happy Saturday, friends. Today has been a lovely, sunshiney day... I hope it's been the same for you?

You were all super creative this week, and I enjoyed it immensely. I also learned that there is some definite interest in the points/star system, since people are asking whether their photos qualify. I shall ponder this... I asked Archie what he thought might be a good prize, and he thought tuna or catnip. I may need to request a few more opinions...

Let's get started, shall we?

My favourite footwear. Apparently it requires photographing your favourite pair of shoes to realize maybe they're starting to look a little worse for wear:

An open door proved to be a good opportunity to show off my lovely fall wreath:

And what I thought would be super original... something that changes shape. The ingredients for Pumpkin Apple Bread:

And the final product. Yum.

My favourite submissions of the week:

Karen surely knows her audience! Not only crocs, but pink ones!

Marianne is joining us for the first time this week, and this open door is very cozy:

And Erica pretty much took my breath away with this photo of goldenrod:

Good work, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

Something well camouflaged
An animal that is not someone’s pet
A sunset

Have fun!

Week 8 - Brought to you by...

2011-11-05T20:01:00.000-04:00

the fun and handy app called Instagram!

An iPhone was placed in my hands this week, so I decided (since I was playing with it excessively anyway) to use my Instagram photos for this week's Scavenger.

I see a number of you squeaked in under the wire! I think I prefer not having a deadline so that everyone can participate even if they're running behind. And, as no one jumped and leapt up with enthusiasm at the offer of a points system, I shall assume prizes are not necessary. I did, however, have two people tell me personally that I should choose their photo so if that's not a mixed message, I'm not sure what is.

Without further ado...

A restaurant napkin. I would like to say that I hadn't realized how few places no longer print their name on their napkins. This wasn't an easy photo to take!

Something seasonal was an easier one. Even though the colours changed early this year, there is still such vibrant colour everywhere, including along this path by the lake:

And something blue that is bigger than my (or, in this case, Len's) hand... that would be the bowl holding the last of the pumpkin snickerdoodles!

And now, for my favourite submissions of the week...
A restaurant napkin, courtesy of Esther, who is joining us for the first time. Who can resist a panda?

My mother's photo of something seasonal is stunning... the light takes my breath away! Plus she gets points for the clever jab at west coast weather...

Karen gets some serious points for her something blue... the perspective and depth is lovely:

Good work, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

Your favourite footwear
An open door
Something that changes shape

Have fun!

Week 7

2011-10-29T18:10:00.001-04:00

Greetings. I should like very much to assure you of the following:
1. I am still alive.
2. I have not been abducted by aliens.
3. One day I shall return to the faithful blogging that you and I both enjoy.

I'm not sure when exactly that will be, but soon. I hope. Being busy can only be an excuse for so long. Should I be abducted by aliens, however, I hope you shall extend a little extra grace. Just a bit more.

It appears that many of you have been busy as well, since once again there are only three participants. Shall I start offering token prizes as a means of encouraging participation? How do you all feel about gold stars? Random points? Every time I select your photo you get a point? First one to, say, 50, gets a prize? I'm not above bribery.

Think about it while I post my own photos and my faves from the week.

You know, I pull these clues from random internet searches and then I use them. And it's not until I realize I also have to find these clues that I realize maybe they're not all that easy.

The first one was, thankfully. A very relaxing place? That would be my bed:

The word 'Exit' on the way to Ikea:

An all brick building? This was the hard one for me this week! I found one, but it's a bit boring. Ah well...

And now, for my faves for the week:
My mom had the same idea for her very relaxing place:

I was so captivated by the lighting in Dawn's photo that I barely noticed the Exit sign:

And clearly, my sister Erica had no issues capturing a brick building in a stunning way:

Good work, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

A restaurant napkin
Something seasonal
Something blue that is bigger than your hand

Have fun!

Week 6

2011-10-22T13:24:00.001-04:00

Happy Saturday, friends! How was your week? As you may have been able to tell by my silence here, I've been a bit busy. (Understatement of the year.) Work is a little hairy for the time being, and until I'm able to hire someone, I shall likely spend more time at work than blogging. Such is life... I love my job, so it's not a hardship by any means!

I loved all the submissions this week! I did want to say that because we're not using Linky Tools anymore and just posting your link/submissions in the comments, I don't see the point in a deadline. So if you get your links in before I create my new post, you're all set. Hopefully that takes the pressure off a bit? No more Wednesday stress!

Here are my photos for the week:

Something black that fits in the palm of my hand - my lens cap:

An electronic device - our trusty stopwatch:

Something that rolls - my rolling pin:

My favourites of the week:
Something black that fits in the palm of my mom's hand - lego!

An electronic device - Dawn's Keurig... yummy!

Something that rolls - a wheel from Karen's husband's truck:

I hope that you're all enjoying this as much as I am!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules:

* I give three clues, you take three pictures.
* Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr).
* Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along.
* Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the sidebar!)

The new clues for this week are:

A very relaxing place
The word 'Exit'
An all-brick building

Have fun!

Week Five (Sort of...)

2011-10-15T19:39:00.000-04:00

It's not Saturday. I mean, the date stamp will say that it's Saturday because I can fiddle with that and make it do my bidding but really, it's not Saturday. I hope you'll forgive me. I had two co-workers in town from Ireland and that pretty much made my week something other than what I was expecting, so we're making do.

I didn't even take pictures. True. I'm a bit disappointed but it is what it is. And my Linky Tools 'free' subscription disappeared midweek: also unexpected. Ah well...

So what I am going to do is showcase my three favourite photos because three of you did play along, and that did mean something to me in this week of surprises.

And so, without further ado...

A cool leaf - a perfect selection for fall, and Rachel did an amazing job:

Something wet, other than water: who can resist this face (or that huge wet tongue? Thanks, Dawn!

An arrow - this one is super original! Erica had her daughters help:

So we'll try again this coming week, and I promise to take my own photos this time!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenger, here are the basic rules: I give three clues, you take three pictures. Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr). Come back here and link your photos in a comment so that we all know you're playing along! Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the right sidebar!)

This week's clues are:

Something black that fits in the palm of your hand
An electronic device
Something that rolls

Have fun!

31 Days {the ugly overflow}

2011-10-13T05:00:00.000-04:00

Few things set my heart to rumbling as quickly as lack of sleep. Considering the thoughts we discussed regarding rest earlier in this series, this shouldn't surprise me. And perhaps it doesn't always surprise me as much as it catches me off guard and floods my being with regret.

The noise of the heart can be difficult to contain. I remember once my brother cranked the speakers in the living room and the sound reverberated well beyond the walls of the house. Had we lived closer to neighbours I'm sure they would have enjoyed Sousa's marches as much as we did that afternoon, windows rattling in protest. Sound carries. Noise disrupts.

This morning was clear evidence of the ugly overflow of the heart's noise. My own insecurities rose in my throat like bile and spilled in a sloppy mess onto a co-worker. And he, from his own place of noise, lashed back. It was messy. Ugly. He yelled, I cried.

As we stood there picking up the pieces and I struggled to grasp the noise and chaos of my reeling heart I realized that you cannot contain noise. Sound carries. Noise disrupts: whether it's the noisy neighbour kids at two in the morning or the ugly overflow of an unquiet heart. And this morning was adequate reminder that cleaning up the mess and moving on is no easy feat.

"This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything." ~ 1 John 3:19-20

God is greater than our hearts. He who is our rest and truth and the wellspring of overwhelming grace knows how often we sink into noise and get caught in the mess. He is greater than all of it and we belong to Him. We belong to the truth.

In truth, I'm never the one who cleans up the mess, the aftermath of the ugly overflow. He does that. When I come to Him pleading for rest and truth that comes only from Him, His mercy and love piece me back together again.

* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!

31 Days {lies in chaos}

2011-10-12T07:00:00.000-04:00

I drive home in the dark, weary from long hours and with a heart heavy... a heart weary and fluttering with familiar noise.

The night is draped in fog. Sluggish fingers of haze slip north from the lake to trace smoky tendrils across the highway, drawing broad, murky shadows, blurring lights. Highway maintenance vehicles loom with quiet menace in the dark, shapes wrapped in shadow. There is something about fog that darkens shadows and changes the quiet beaty of night into something unknown. A route I've driven a hundred times or more seems alien.

There is something familiar - comforting even - about the noise that crowds into the corners of our hearts. We know this noise: the whimpers of fear, the breath-snatching of anxiety, the roar of inadequacy and doubt. In some ways it feels like the natural fibre of our being, threaded into our very flesh. Quiet seems uneasy, at times; an unnatural state of being.

And in some ways it is. Anything that stems from the free gift of grace usually leads to some head scratching. It is a good reminder to me though, that anything that stems from that deep well of undeserved grace also meets with resistance. In a heart crammed with noise and chaos, the enemy's whisper of lies is so subtle I hardly notice until the fog creeps in and everything I knew to be truth and grace and light is clouded by haze, blurred lights, looming shadows.

Lies whispered into a quiet heart held calm by sweet grace and the voice of Truth don't stand a chance.

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." ~ John 1:14
* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!

31 Days {the source of noise}

2011-10-11T05:00:00.000-04:00

Well, it appears that my 31 days will turn out to be a little less than that. Maybe next time I'll hit the entire thirty one days.

At any rate, we left off last time with the voice of truth - the Word of God hidden in our hearts.

I was thinking about the idea of noise that crowds out the quiet of our hearts. You know the noise I mean... that inner rumble echoing to my very being, making stillness impossible. Where does the noise originate?

I know where it does not come from: my circumstances. My ever-shifting situations may send me to doubt or anger or disappointment but the circumstances themselves do not reduce my heart to a noisy mess. I can rail against hardship or trials, make bold declarations that if y life were better, easier, calmer, filled with less pain that my heart could rest quietly, but it is a claim with no basis.

Circumstances do not make my heart unquiet; my response to those circumstances does. In those moments when I choose to trust my circumstances over the promises of a faithful God. Just think of what Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians: 'I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.' (Philippians 4:12&13)

For my own part, I prefer to raise an angry fist against a situation because it is out of my control. In so many ways it is easier to believe that pain in my life equates to an absence of God's love; that hardship is a sign of God's lack of trustworthiness.

That's not it, though. The messy noise of the heart reaches a crescendo when I refuse to keep in step with the Spirit: living from peace, love, gratitude and faith. 'Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.' (Galatians 5:25)
* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!

Week Four

2011-10-08T20:56:00.000-04:00

Happy Saturday, friends! I know I'm posting a bit later than usual, but it is still Saturday, right?

It's been a busy week, ending with some kind of stomach bug, but it was still enjoyable to find these photos and dream up three new clues.

Here are my photos for this week!
A fast car - one of Len's classic model cars:

Something symmetrical - my computer mouse:

A red traffic light, with the moon the background:

And now for the favourites from this week's submissions!

A fast car - kudos to Kelly for catching it in motion!

Something symmetrical - Linda managed to find symmetry in nature:

And a red traffic light - Erica gets points for catching a green light at the same time:

Thank you for joining in, ladies!

If you're new to Saturday Scavenge, here are the basic rules: I give three clues, you take three pictures. Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr). Come back here (by Wednesday at midnight!) and link your photos below, so that we all know you're playing along! Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the right sidebar!)

This week's clues are:

A cool leaf
Something wet other than water
An arrow

Have fun!

31 Days {the voice of truth}

2011-10-06T05:00:00.000-04:00

I don't know about you, but most days, the quiet of this heart is drowned out by an intense frenzy of lies.

I don't work hard enough.
I don't love well enough.
I don't _____ enough.
I'm not... enough.

A quiet heart - restful, at peace - implies the absence of noise. Or perhaps, instead, the presence of a clear, single voice.

I believe God speaks to us. On each and every page of Scripture, stamped in black and white we find the personal, loving, perfect Word: the voice of God to His people. I know sometimes we long for God to climb up into our heads and whisper, 'Thelma. Do this.' In some ways, that feels even more black and white, doesn't it? And maybe, sometimes, we think it would be easier.

And then I remember: who better understands the roar of the heart: the helpless cries of fear, grief, pain, disappointment, confusion? And Who only could carve out a revelation of His love and mercy in a way that reaches the hearts of anyone who seeks Him, regardless of age, sex, race or time?

Is Psalm 119:11, the psalmist writes: "I have hidden your word in my heart..."

When faced with the lies that make our hearts convulse with noise and doubt, there is only one voice who can silence the chaos: the voice of Truth.

* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!
Missed a day? Find them all here:
Day 1 * Day 3 * Day 4 * Day 5

Question for you: do you memorize Scripture as a way to 'hide the Word' in your heart?

31 Days {the place of rest}

2011-10-05T05:00:00.000-04:00

When I started this series, I hope I made it clear that I'm not expecting to 'arrive'. I'm not expecting to step out onto the first of November and declare that my heart is quiet, and forever shall remain so. (I could hope for that, I suppose...) This fallen and busted world is not our destination. We are being fashioned for eternity, but arriving perfected? That's not for us.

I was reminded again this morning that I'm not trudging about in search of a place of rest. It's not that perfect chair by the window, bathed in early morning sunlight. It can't be, really, because on the morning you wake up to rain and a souvenir from the cat on that perfect chair, you realize that rest is not found in places or circumstances, but in the person of Jesus Christ.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
~ Matthew 11:28-30

Let me give you an example. My school commute once involved forty minutes crammed into a subway car. If I was on the car soon enough I could slip myself into a seat for the duration, close my eyes and pray. It wasn't an ideal prayer nook, jarred and jostled by fellow commuters, the noise and echo of station calls and conversation deafening at times. And yet, those were beautiful moments of prayer and thanksgiving.

Rest is a gift from a single source: Jesus.

In any circumstance or moment - be it the jarring bustle of a subway car or the stillness of the early morning - I need only turn to Him to find rest, renewal and restoration.

He is my Redeemer, my place of rest.

* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!
Missed a day? Find them all here:
Day 1 * Day 3 * Day 4

Question for you: do you have a similar story... an experience sweet rest in the midst of chaos?

31 Days {a daily sabbath}

2011-10-04T05:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I wrote about refusing rest: eking out a life of chores and tasks and priorities and refusing the refreshing rest and quiet that comes from fellowship with our Lord. We pause our bodies for rest, but the uncertainties of the heart are given none.

Today I would like to suggest that rest (a daily Sabbath, if you will) is the anchor to a quiet heart.

I believe Sabbath-rest is a command; one designed for our benefit. I have learned that how that is practiced will likely have different shapes and colours, but the Sabbath command is nestled into the 10 commandments. While Mosaic law was fulfilled through Christ's complete and perfect sacrifice on the cross, our new life in Jesus does not negate the reality of the law. No one would suggest that because of Jesus' work on the cross, the commands against lying, murder, adultery, or stealing are unnecessary to heed.

And yet we are so quick to dismiss the command to rest.

David knew rest:

"Truly my soul finds rest in God;
my salvation comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will never be shaken."~ Psalm 62:1&2

Sabbath rest is a precious commodity in a world run ragged. Without it, the heart is unquiet: unable to grasp the faithful promises of the Word, unable to swell with praise and worship. Without rest, the heart is a small ship on the raging sea of Galilee, fearful and hopeless. There is only One who can calm that storm.

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken."
~ Psalm 62:5&6

* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!
Missed a day? Find them all here:
Day 1 * Day 3
Question for you: how do you find Sabbath-rest in your daily walk?

31 Days {refusing rest}

2011-10-03T19:29:00.000-04:00

I hope you'll forgive me for not writing yesterday on this subject. Sunday is my Sabbath, my day of rest and worship, and even writing/blogging is set aside. And so, assuming that you have not disqualified me, I shall carry on.

As I was preparing for this 31 days of blogging, I thought back to times when my heart was anything but quiet. I realized that not every situation was the same: whether it was fear, discontent or ingratitude, the underlying issue was the same. I tossed off the need for rest, for time spent in quiet prayer and meditation of God's Word and replaced it with a desperate need to untie the myriad knots of my own heart.

I'm hopping out on a limb to say that I'm thinking I'm not the only one who does this. Check out this verse from Isaiah: This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it." ~ Isaiah 30: 15

You would have none of it.
Ouch.

I remember a friend raising the idea of refusing comfort... those times in our lives where we know the truth of God's comfort, but will have none of it. I remember being able to see the truth in that, even recognize times in my own life where I chose to hold God's faithful offer of comfort at arm's length.

I believe we do the same with rest. With quiet. I know I do. I refuse rest. I have my to-do lists and my priorities; I wake with expectations of my own obligations; I carve out steady hours of work in sunlight and strive to carry that through until my pillow calls and I sleep. But rest? I often believe it's an extra-curricular; an option if such a window of time is open, but otherwise, a luxury.

But it's not true: in rest is our salvation; in quietness our strength.

I'm learning that rest is as integral to our daily walk and worship as prayer and praise and work. And not just the kick-back-and-watch-The-Amazing-Race-kind-of-rest; I'm talking the kind that leaves the heart quiet and centered, eager to live a life in beautiful fellowship with God.

* * *

Thank you for joining me during these 31 Days to a Quiet Heart!
Missed a day? Find them all here:
Day 1 *

Question for you: do you struggle to carve out rest and quiet in your daily routine?

31 Days To a Quiet Heart

2011-10-01T12:00:00.000-04:00

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight." ~ 1 Peter 3:3&4

"A quiet heart is content with what God gives. It is enough. All is grace..." ~ Elisabeth Elliot

I haven't been the most faithful blogger as of late. I could offer a myriad excuses about life being busy and work being stressful, but in truth it comes down to a single thing: my heart is wildly unquiet.

This morning when I saw a host of fellow bloggers posting about the newest 31 Days of Change challenge, I knew I wanted to be part of it. And it took very little effort to know what I should blog about...

And so, for the month of October, I shall be blogging on the topic of 31 Days to a Quiet Heart. I'm not expecting to 'arrive'. I'm hoping and praying for a lot of Word-digging and heart-convicting. Ultimately I pray for this series what I pray for every post I publish on this blog: that God's mighty and loving hand will be all-evident in my words. All is grace...

This morning I scrolled through the list of bloggers participating in this challenge, amazed at the array of topics. Check out the list, you may find more bloggers you'll want to follow this month.

I even made a button:

I hope you'll join me.
(Oh, and don't worry... Saturday Scavenger will still be up each week!)

Week Three

2011-10-01T10:34:00.003-04:00

This makes for two Scavenger posts back to back and no posts in between for an entire week! I'm not sure I love that, but I supposed life just gets that busy sometimes, doesn't it? Thank you again, to everyone who participated in this week's photo scavenge! I'm hearing a lot of feedback on how much you're enjoying this, which is wonderful!

I shall start again with my own photos from the week.
Something green:

Something that opens and closes - my awesome Vera double kiss coin purse:

And, last not but not least, the number 5 - my apple kitchen clock:

I really love being able to flip through your photos each week. This week, The Len is choosing the winners from each category.
Something green - Rachel's new froggie kitty toy:

Something that opens and closes - Kelly's nesting dolls:

The number 5 - Mom's photo of Arthur's Demuth's painting:

Are you ready for three new clues?

If you're new to Saturday Scavenge, here are the basic rules: I give three clues, you take three pictures. Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr). Come back here (by Wednesday at midnight!) and link your photos below, so that we all know you're playing along! Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun! (Don't forget to grab the button that links your readers back to Life as Two, so others can join in the fun as well. It's over there on the right sidebar!)

This week's clues are:

A fast car
Something that is symmetrical
A red traffic light

Can't wait to see your submissions!

Week Two

2011-09-24T05:00:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Week Two! Does this make it a tradition already?

I have to say, I loved looking through your photos. And taking my own, of course, so thank you so much for playing along.

First, my own photos from the week:
Something new: the blanket, not Miss Sacha.

A group of three: I love these antique-style perfume bottles.

The best place to eat in town: best breakfast around!

And my favourites from this week:

Something new, from Erica. I very much enjoyed this something new a week ago:

This group of three from Dawn made me giggle. Repeatedly.

And I was hoping someone who claim their own table as the best place to eat. I'd happily pull up a chair here, Rachel!

Are you ready for three new clues?

If you're new, here are the basic rules: I give three clues, you take three pictures. Post those three photos to some online space (blog, Facebook, Flikr). Come back here (by Wednesday at midnight!) and link your photos below, so that we all know you're playing along! Each Saturday I'll post my own photos, my three faves from each category, and three new clues! Be creative and have fun!

This week's clues are:

Something green
Something that opens and closes
The number 5

Have fun!

(I apologize for breaking last week's Linky Tools... I'm still learning the ins and outs of that!)

The Kitchen

2011-09-21T05:00:00.000-04:00

I like my kitchen the way I love the rest of my house: with caveats. It's great, I say, but I wish...
And the list isn't short, believe me. The floors are slanted and don't clean themselves, the counter space is scarce and the working space is... cozy at best.

If I'm honest, I think there are times where I feel a bit smug about how content I sound. I'm not lying when I say I love our house, but there's a bit of deception about what I'd change in a heartbeat if I could. There's even a list, with several action items that The Len has already challenged. Those items that require knocking down an exterior wall have been vetoed. I'm content with my home, this roof over my head, but if I'm honest, I want more.

A week or two ago the following link appeared in my newsfeed: a blog post by Ann Voskamp titled 'how to make life about endless celebration'. As I read and scrolled through the photos of that day in Guatamala, I was sliced in two. (Go on. Read. Take particular note of Xiomara's kitchen.)

What I love about conviction is how it withdraws pride and leaves knowledge. Thinking hard about what matters, what doesn't and why. I went home that night and stood in my kitchen, watched Archie bat at a ball that faithfully rolled back to him. I thought of posting that photo to my fridge, antidote against wilting contentment.

Contentment is good. I think we strive hard for contentment. But it is not quiet satisfaction with what is that drives, moves, molds us. Contentment is a state of being for many, but gratitude? Gratitude is overflow. Gratitude is reflex: that inward gasp at abundant excess (walls, floors, roofs, food) and the unearthly desire for less.

I don't need that photo on my fridge. The smudge-black sink stacked high with bright dishes and flanked by water jugs (toting water from where?) is etched in my heart, on my lips.

Thank you, Lord, for lavish excessive so far beyond our basic needs. Open my eyes to it moment by moment, and let my heart overflow with gratitude.

Eyes Wide Open

2011-09-19T05:00:00.000-04:00

We've gone to bed early, exhausted in a week that seems never-ending. A storm is brewing so we close windows and curtains and lie still in the thick air that simmers quietly in anticipation.

As the storm starts in earnest, I lie watching the sun-bright flashes of lightning and wait for a small kitten to come crying for comfort. The cool air that slips through the one open window touches my skin, and I smile. For someone who used to be afraid of thunderstorms, I marvel at my enjoyment now.

Archie still hasn't found me, so I get up to make sure that he is fine. To my surprise, I find him perched uncertainly on a chair in front of the bedroom window. He is curious, if nothing else, but frightened too. I lower myself to the ground by the chair, resting on my arms on the seat in a wide circle around his tiny frame. He shifts immediately, pressing the length of his body against my chest, facing the window.

He wants to watch the storm. My surprise is genuine. He turns to look up at me, lets out a little chirp in question.

I'm right here, I whisper, and a purr rumbles from his little body in response. And so we watch the storm together, my wee kitten pressed against me for comfort and me whispering quiet assurances in words unknown.

The storm was brilliant and wild. Sheet lightning lit the city. Thunder cracked and roared, rattling windows. Rain raced towards the earth in a desperate freefall. Harsh and violent and beautiful all at once, it was a wonder to behold.

It wasn't long before I was realizing the overwhelming imagery of it all. Strong protective arms around one so small. A wild storm and a fearful heart seeking protection, while at the same time wanting to understand the violence of something so beautiful... wanting to watch from a place where the promises of comfort and security are sprinkled over me in whispers of Truth.

As we crawled into bed later, I realized that the warm bundle of purring-goodness that was stretched across my chest had opened my eyes to a powerful lesson.

Maybe sometimes my response to the storms of life should be to simply crawl up in Abba's lap in front of the window and watch... let my Heavenly Father wrap His strong arms around me and whisper, I am right here. Let Me show you what I can do.

One thing I ask of the LORD,

this is what I seek:

that I may dwell in the house of the LORD

all the days of my life,

to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD

and to seek him in his temple.

For in the day of trouble

he will keep me safe in his dwelling;

he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle

and set me high upon a rock.

Psalm 27:4&5

The storms always seem bigger than me, but no matter their seeming size or strength, they are never more powerful than the One who keeps me safe.

He will hide me beneath the shelter of His wings...

_________________________________
Linking up this morning with Michelle, over at Graceful:

Weekend Fun

2011-09-17T05:00:00.000-04:00

I like to take photos. No matter how tired I am, I seem to find a way to snap photos, seeking to capture the play of light on colour. I love flipping through photos where others have done the same. Beauty and I are committed to a lifelong romance.

Since I do love a good photo as well as a good time, I'm enlisting your help to play a little game that will have us all hunting for opportunities for great shots. I participated in a photo scavenger hunt awhile ago with a group of online friends, hunting for all sorts of things: yellow cars, trying to capture 'wind', something pink that was bigger than me. I never did find that last one.

That kind of creative fun is contagious, so let's spread the love, shall we? Here's the plan:

Each Saturday morning I'll post three clues. Your job, over the next five days, is to snap a creative photo of each of the clues. Save the photos to some sort of online space (Facebook album, Flikr set, your blog, etc...) and come back here to link to your photos. (All photos must be linked by Wednesday night.) The following Saturday, after snapping my own photos and enjoying all of yours, I'll post my favourites from the week, and post three new clues. Lather, rinse, repeat!

To kick of Saturday Scavenger, here are your first three clues! Grab your camera, get creative and take a photo of:

1. Something new
2. A group of three
3. The best place to eat in town

If you're linking up with this little spot of fun on your blog, feel free to grab the button so your readers can join in too.

Thanks for playing!

I Love You More Than I Love Meat

2011-09-16T05:00:00.000-04:00

I climbed the stairs to bed, my heart in a million places. Slipping under the covers, I knew truly that my heart was in a single locale: mired deep in a sticky puddle of fear.

Tears came quickly as we started to talk in the quiet dark. Words and tears and shared fears and shared prayers melded together and we both settled deep into comfort. After a space of silence The Len began to sing softly, creating silliness for me as he often does.

'I love you, you are cute as a bug.'

A moment of hesitation. Hunting for a good rhyme, I knew, so I slipped in my own, 'I love to hide you under the rug.'

He started. I giggled. Under a rug? he whispered.

I tried again: 'I love to give your earlobes a tug?'

He snorted. I felt a bubble rising... sweet joy wiping clean the gunk of fear.

'Your face is more handsome than a Pug's?'

Laughter then and in response my face lit bright with contentment.

A new line, his: 'I love you for you are as cute as a button.'

Button? I have to rhyme with button? I squeaked, and jabbed him in the ribs. The bubble was in my throat now, straining to burst, and as I responded with my choice of rhyme it found freedom and dissolved me into giggles.

'I love you more than I love mutton.'

I could feel him shaking silently and I chortled as he feigned offense. I'm saying I love you more than meat! Surely that's saying something! I argued, our mirth finding voice and filling the dark.

Jumping at my chance to offer him an impossible rhyme, I added: 'I love you more than I love my uvula.'

Your turn! I crowed and he breathlessly conceded defeat.

As silence slowly returned and we drifted off to sleep that bubble of sweet, silly joy settled in my heart, seeping into my blood and flooding me with warmth and peace and gratitude. Take that, fear, my heart whispered. Take that.

On Platform Building and the Angst of Selling Yourself

2011-09-15T05:00:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time I knew nothing about writing, publishing or platform building. Those were good days, really. In retrospect, I think I slept better in those days. I would snuggle into my blankets and dream of The Magical Day when someone would realize what an amazing writer I am, contact me, and beg me to write a book that they could publish. I, of course, would graciously accept and so my writing career would begin in earnest.

Apparently that's how some people are found in Hollywood... surely it could happen to me?

My other plan was to have my kids, be a stay-at-home-mom and after my kids headed off to school full time, I would write. I would have a lovely manuscript all ready so that when The Magical Day arrived, I would be completely prepared.

Yeah...

Realizing the 'SAHM and writing when the kids are in school' plan was not going to happen, I knew I had to come up with an alternate. Perhaps, even, an alternate based on reality.

I don't like reality. Reality showed me scary words like 'selling yourself', 'platform building', 'marketing', and 'agent hunting'. Those words make me want to hide under the covers and cling desperately to my dream of The Magical Day. I read through blogs written by agents like Rachelle Gardner and publishing editors like Michael Hyatt, trying to take their words of experience at face value without having a minor freak out.

See, writing is hard enough. Writing is work. I never believed that until I started taking my writing seriously, fighting to string meaningful words into shapes and pictures and emotions that would connect people and ideas. The thought that I would also need to put careful thought and effort into my platform (that group of readers that a publisher can look at and believe they'd buy my book) or market myself to readers and publishers alike... that just terrifies me.

And then to learn and reassure myself, I pop over to hang with Michelle. She's about two and half marathons ahead of me in terms of getting published, but her transparency on the subject encourages and intimidates me in turns. She's still breathing and blogging, which I take to mean the publishing experience hasn't killed her yet. And she still freaks out occasionally, which means I can do the same. (Right, Michelle?)

And so occasionally, on days such as today, I make the self-conscious effort of saying things like:

'Did you know you can 'like' this wee blog on Facebook and get new posts straight to your newsfeed?' Because you can... will you?

'Are you a blog follower? There's a spot over on the right where you can follow, if you'd like!'

'Do you tweet? I do! Care to follow me?'

I don't love it. I really don't. It feels beyond strange to encourage people to align themselves to me or my writing so that hopefully one day I can put a book that I wrote in their hands.

What I do love? Writing. Connecting. Getting to know all of you. Writing. And also, writing.

So really, it all works out in the end, doesn't it?

Danger, Will Robinson...

2011-09-14T05:00:00.001-04:00

I'm all about effective time management.

Wait, you don't believe me? Good. You shouldn't. Oh, I do alright from time to time. Some days I'm actually quite impressed with myself. I go to bed at night realizing I did some very adult, very well-time-managed things and generally feeling quite accomplished.

And then I got pulled into the wonderful world of Pinterest (thanks, Kim, I blame you!) and suddenly I find myself curled up on the couch with a decaf coffee and pinning like a mad woman. I don't even do myself the courtesy of feeling guilty.

What is Pinterest? It's (according to the site itself) a virtual pinboard. An online corkboard where you can store all the cool stuff you find online... craft ideas, recipes, fashion tips, photographs, quotes, DIY tips. It's the one stop shop of finding good ideas and solutions for problems you did know you had.

For example, even though you never serve punch you may be wondering how to spruce up those ice cubes. Well, lemons, water and a muffin tin are all you need! Pin it!

Or, for all you crazy Pringle-eating-cookie-gifting people, here's a tip for holiday gift wrapping! Consider it pinned!

Ah yes, perhaps a smidge tongue in cheek. Truth be told, I love it. And I have found several ideas and online resources I wouldn't normally have stumbled upon. And I do actually love both the ice cube and Pringle can idea. I doubt The Len would mind eating several tins of Pringles in the name of Christmas cheer.

Also, I already made these and they were amazing. Pin them. Bake them. Eat them.

Now, the shoes... and boots. If only one could pin those and then make them real. Now wouldn't that be something?

The Gap

2011-09-13T06:00:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time I blogged frequently about infertility. I painted as honest a picture as I could without spilling every last breath of my heart into a blog post. It's a rough road, this infertility thing. It's a hard, sad, scary, frustrating, grief-filled place.

And then, for probably the space of a year, I went silent on the subject. When I wanted to fill the silence we were in a different place, and I didn't know how to share. I loved this new place we had found, but the last thing I wanted was to hurt my sweet friends, or paint a lopsided view of infertility. Silence was my answer, and perhaps it was not the best solution.

Eventually, I found a space to share at Hannah's Prayer and came to realize that The Len and I now consider ourselves 'Complete as Two'. On HP, that's my new home and I have new friends there... friends who understand what it is to embrace a childless life and revel in a peace, joy and healing that can come only from God.

There's still a gap, however... a gap of silence that lies open with questions unasked. How did we get here? Did we not really want children after all? What does this life look like? Do you ever feel guilty? Selfish? Does the grief of infertility still sting?

More than that, I realize the disservice to our friends and family; those who share their own grief at our childlessness; those who had spent hours and tears in prayer for us, pleading with God for our chance at parenthood, for peace, for solace. My silence did nothing to ease their healing towards shared joy, and I long to correct that.

And so, for the next few weeks, I hope to fill that gap. I hope to bridge the space between the deep grief of infertility and the peace and joy of embracing the life given.

Before I start, however, I wish to utter a gentle word of caution to those of you who read and long to support those in your life who struggle with infertility: just because the Lord chose this path for us, does not mean it's the answer for every infertile family. Just as adoption is a calling and not the next step in infertility treatment, so to with this.

I hope you'll join me over the next few weeks. I am also more than willing to answer specific questions you might have, so feel free to ask them, whether through comments or email!

The Trust Fall

2011-09-12T05:00:00.026-04:00

I don't do trust falls.

In high school, I could have used a tee-shirt with those words so I could avoid the haggling with teachers who thought trust falls develop stronger teams. I don't know how dropping blindly into the arms (hopefully) of another teenager is going to make me want to be on his or her team, but there it is.

Thinking back, I do recall a time during my senior year when I, as director of the school play, forced all the actors to do trust falls. Yes, actually, I am a terrible person.

As the incredibly sage adult that I am now, I can look back on my aversion to trust falls with the following realization:

1. I don't trust that you're strong enough to catch me.
2. I'm not convinced you like me enough to stop me from smacking my head on the concrete.

Call it teenage angst.
Call it the secret fears of a fat girl.
Call it whatever you like, but I'm here to tell you it's still with me.

See, here in this household we've been moving steadily closer to the edge of this cliff called 'Change'. The Len is finished with his co-op (thank you, Lord, for that amazing job!) and heading into his last four months of school (really... already?) and I started doing what I do best: forget everything I've learned and try to hold it all together with my own little hands.

Failing, of course. But trying with whatever last ounce of strength I can muster, until I realize I'm holding on to a flimsy strand of rope with only one hand, my big toes gripping the edge of the cliff.

And my heart (the one that knows truth but too quickly forgets) is crying out, 'Are You strong enough? Am I worth the effort?'

Then, before I even realize, the deepest need in me whispers, 'Is it too late? Have I failed to trust You one too many times?' And even as the Spirit floods to memory all the Truth learned through study of the Word and grace lived in the everyday, that part of me - that part so slavishly bound to failure - bucks against that truth with that disbelief of unworthiness.

But then, that's the point, isn't it? That is grace.

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this:
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." ~ Romans 5:8

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God — not by works, so that no one can boast." ~ Ephesians 2:-8-9

That is grace. The ultimate gift to the unworthy.

He is strong enough and I am His.
Finally a trust fall worth learning, worth risking, worth everything.
____________________________________________
Linking up this morning with Michelle, over at Graceful:

Held: Focus

2011-08-22T06:45:00.000-04:00

Did you know that if you stand under a night sky and hold a dime in your hand at arm's length, you obscure the light and beauty of millions of stars? Millions. The closer you move that dime to your eye, the more stars disappear from sight.

At the start of the 2009 Hannah's Prayer retreat, our speaker, Ginger Garrett, asked us to decide what we would focus on that weekend. Would we clutch that dime close to our eye, seeing only our own pain and grief, or would we set it aside to gain access to the light and beauty we had been blocking out?

I'm posting over at Held today, friends... will you join me there to read the rest?

Legume Guacamole

2011-08-19T05:00:00.026-04:00

Have we ever discussed how much I dislike peas? If we haven't we should, because I feel this is an important detail to understand about me. I also think it's important for you to appreciate the extent of my passionate dislike, so that you can even more fully appreciate this recipe.

It may or may not contain a cup of these:

I love guacamole, so when my shiny new cookbook presented me with this lower fat, lower calorie version of guacamole, I knew I had to give it a try. Surprising, I didn't even balk at the notion of it containing peas, which should make all of you exceedingly proud.

Of course it still has the delicious avocado as well:

And just a note that if you think your Cuisinart hand mixer/food processor has a large enough container, you'd be wrong.

You'll definitely need something bigger.

Bigger than this, even, since I made a bit of a mess in the process of blending. This was after I had already spilled the peas all over the counter. Twice. That's correct. Definitely worth it, however!

At any rate, here's the recipe:

Legume Guacamole
Yield: about 1.5 cups
1 cup frozen baby peas
1 ripe avocado
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded & coursely chopped
1/4 cup coarsely chopping fresh cilantro
2 tbsp chopped red onion
3 tbsp freshly squeezed lime or lemon juice
2 tbsp mayonnaise
1 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp freshly ground white pepper
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup coarsely chopped Roma tomatoes
1/2 to 1 tsp hot pepper sauce (optional)

1. In a small saucepan, bring 1/4 cup water to boil over high heat. Add peas and return to boil. Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 4 minutes. Remove from heat and cool.

2. Peel avocado and scoop flesh into good processor. Add cooled peas (along with any remaining liquid from the pan), garlic, jalapeno, cilantro, red onion, lime juice, mayo, cumin, chili powder, pepper and salt; pulse until chopped. Puree for about 1 minute or until mostly smooth with some small bits remaining.

3. Transfer to a bowl, and gently stir in tomatoes. Season to taste with hot pepper sauce (if using.)

A few notes:
* I didn't end up using the jalapeno or cilantro, because I didn't have any on hand.
* Also, peeling an avocado is an exercise in futility... if you need me to post on how to easily remove the flesh of the avocado, please let me know!

Enjoy!

Once Upon a Sandbox

2011-08-18T09:10:00.000-04:00

It was only a sandbox. Boatshaped and rarely used, it arrived six years ago and made an oval-shaped dirt imprint in our lawn. With barely enough sand to make it useful, it held the little buckets, shovels and beach toys that we had accumulated with anticipation.

Only a sandbox, and yet not. It was the subject of my first blog post six (six?) years ago. We were two years into marriage and childless, wondering what that meant and where this road would lead. We had plans and dreams, and in among those dreams was a boat shaped space for a sandbox. It fit, snug and tidy... arrived with matching dreams of lazy summer days, the playful spray of the sprinkler, sidewalk chalk and spilled ice cream.

Six years later, that sandbox found a new home and two instant four year old friends. We had been planning to part with it, and when friends asked whether they could take it, we quickly agreed. And as it left this past Saturday, I looked down at that patch of compacted dirt and smiled.

The memories of six years flashed quickly and quietly before me; grief, joy, hope, disappointment, anger, frustration... ending quietly and peacefully at contentment. More than contentment, even. Satisfaction... peace... joy... wonder...

We're planning a new garden, you see. This backyard may not sport sidewalk chalk and sandboxes, but we have dreams of sedums and shasta daisies and butterfly bushes. Of a fire pit aglow on a summer's night, surrounded by friends and family, the hum of laughter and conversation echoed by crickets.

There are dreams for a cozy backyard haven. There may not be children or sandboxes or summer sprinkler runs. And even as we dream, we know that plans may change, surprising and unexpected, as they often do.

We are meant for dreams... dreams that, when whispered, know that whatever God plans - and however contrary to ours - will be good and beautiful and to His glory. Sandboxes, sedums and all...

Confessional: To Boil an Egg

2011-08-17T10:02:00.000-04:00

One fine summer day a friend said to me, 'You are such a connoisseur in the kitchen!'

My head quickly began to swell with pleasure and pride. What a lovely thing for her to say! Not long after, however, the sound of my husband chortling in the background brought me 'round to reality. Noted for future reference: if someone is about to stroke your ego regarding your mad cooking skills, make sure the one who eats both your good and burnt dishes isn't around to burst that bubble.

The Len may have a point, however. I may make a mean onion relish or whip together a delicious jerk chicken pizza but I think to be considered a true connoisseur, you should be able to boil an egg.

This particular inability of mine surfaced again yesterday during a conversation at work. You'd be amazed at the jaw dropping when you tell someone you're not sure how to boil an egg.

You have to understand that I'm a recipe gal. I like to follow instructions when it comes to food preparation. Do you realize how many ways there are to boil an egg? Do you put the eggs in the water as it comes to a boil, or wait until the water is boiling? Should the eggs be at room temperature, or no? Do you prick the bottom of the wee egg with the wee egg pricker, or leave it be?

And then there's a question of timing... what one considers soft boiled, another considers too hard. Three minutes for this, five for that. Oh, you're looking for egg salad eggs? Well then...

And don't get me started on the people who think that altitude or sea level somehow have a role to play...

Let's have a little discussion today. At least one of you is more than welcome to say that you don't boil eggs, because the varying opinions on how to do so is too confusing. (If one of you would say this, it would make me feel better, so thank you in advance.)

And if all of you gang up on me and comment that you boil your eggs exactly the same way, I shall stop blogging. Ha. There's more than one way to stroke an ego. :P

So tell me... how do you boil an egg?

Bankrupt

2011-08-15T11:02:00.000-04:00

I come full, heavy, burdened... my heart the overflow of want and anxiety and hope and grief. I kneel down with intentions and quick-spun words, tossing them down onto the bed and smoothing them to lay flat and visible against purple and blue and green of the bed spread.

I come brimming: 'Lord, I...'

Weeks ago, in that space of meditation prior to communion, he reads slowly through the Beatitudes. His sermonette focuses on the poor in spirit.

'Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' ~ Matthew 5:3

Poverty is abstract as best... something we see on television; wide-eyed children with flies on their faces and distended bellies, and ramshackle huts with mud(dy) floors and miles upon miles of undrinkable water. We can distance ourselves from this because it is just that: distant. Far way. Other worldly.

'This isn't about lacking material goods,' he was saying, 'this is about a bankruptcy that exists in the human heart.'

Spiritual bankruptcy. This I know. That deep need that clamps down on my heart and makes me cry out; that dank, scummy pit that held me until loving hands reached down to scoop me out (Ps. 40). Oh, I know this too well.

As I kneel in the quiet gray of morning, I remember that I come empty. In slow, deliberate movements I peel back that which masks my true condition: gone are my well-crafted words and careful phrases. Gone is any veneer that pretends that I am anything but bankrupt. I come... grimy hands outstretched, a beggar with nothing to offer but need.

And yet... confident!

For the One I kneel before knows my need, and has slaked it through blood and violence and love on a cross. Has lifted me from the slime and darkness of the pit and set me before Him.

I come bankrupt: 'Lord, You... are holy, mighty, merciful... You are all I need...'

________________________________
Linking up this morning with Michelle over at Graceful:

Held: Seven

2011-08-12T05:48:00.000-04:00

I was twenty five years old.

I was standing in a Shopper's Drug Mart trying to decide which home pregnancy test to buy. It felt like an important decision at the time. This was the little device that was going to tell me I was pregnant, after all.

I remember wondering why home pregnancy tests came in packs of two.

I'm guest posting about lessons learned over at Held today... will you join me there to read the rest? Oh, thank you!

And now we are four (again)...

2011-08-09T07:08:00.001-04:00

"I think I'm ready," he wrote to me in an email.
"Ready for what?" I replied between meetings and phone calls.
"A new kitten. An orange one. Yep, I think I'm ready."

Oh! Well then! That's an attention getter.

When he sent this email, it was almost a year since we said goodbye to Brady. After we had returned from the vet that day, I had said to The Len, 'No more pets. I can't do it. No more.'

And he had replied (from his own grief and knowledge of who we are), 'You know you don't mean that. Give it time.'

When Tigger died, we didn't. In less than two months time we had a new kitten... tiny, fiesty Sacha. Too soon... we both look back and agree on that. It was too soon. We love our girl now, but it was too soon.

A year after losing Brady and it felt different. Good... exciting, even, to consider a new kitten. And so, without much ado, I'd like to present the blog debut of an orange kitten who is a little too adorable for his own good...

Meet Archie!

He can sleep anywhere...

lick his own freckled nose...

and generally be too cute for words.

And Sacha? Well, after a few days of intense hissing and growling,

we quickly moved on to tolerance, then play, then:

And Sacha would also like to take this opportunity to remind you that even though this young, funny-coloured usurper has been invited into the house, she is still (by far!) the most beautiful cheetie you've ever seen:

And she would thank you to remember that.

{eight}

2011-08-08T06:59:00.000-04:00

Eight years ago today...

Thelma woke up at 6AM and promptly threw up. Nerves are a magical thing.
The Len washed two cars with the help of his best man.

Thelma ordered a muffin and coffee from Tim Horton's on the way to get her hair done. She only managed to drink the coffee.
The Len arrived at my sister's house to pick me up, only to find out I wasn't ready yet. (Typical, yes?)

We met family at Sam Lawrence Park for photos before the ceremony, where The Len had trouble finding his smile and Thelma burnt to a crisp.

We went through the Tim Horton's drive through with the best man and matron of honour and ordered a half dozen fruit explosion muffins. (Fruit explosion muffins... white dress.)

The Len tried to help the minister locate the church registry we needed to sign so we could be considered married in the eyes of the church.
Thelma tried to figure out why The Len was walking back and forth so much, and looking worried.

We exchanged vows before God, family and friends, exchanged rings, lit a unity candle and signed paperwork between photos.

We had an amazing party with more people than we remembered inviting, and an incredible spread of food that neither of us remember eating.

We stopped at Shopper's Drug Mart to buy ice packs and aloe vera gel on the way to our hotel in an attempt to ease the pain of the sunburn.

Eight years ago two best friends chose to spend the rest of their lives together.

We couldn't be more blessed!

Held: Some Kind of Miracle

2011-07-29T05:00:00.018-04:00

Miracles.

For those of us who walk this road of infertility, a miracle usually has a single meaning: parenthood. Holding a wee one in our arms dreaming of the day we hear 'Mommy' or 'Daddy' for the first time, our hearts whisper to us that we have our miracle.

But what if...

What if that picture never comes to be?
What if that miracle isn't yours?

I'm talking about our miracle over at Held today. Will you join me? Oh, thank you!

On Retracing The Known...

2011-07-28T19:57:00.000-04:00

It was the hottest day of the year.

We had set up camp slowly, easing through the thick air and required motions to raise tents, fill an airbed, stopping to refresh with cold water and a pause in the shade. Later, I lay on that airbed, praying for a breeze. We had left the fly off the tent in the hopes that any gust of wind would cool us as we slept.

As dusk eased its sleepy way into dark, I lay in impossible heat and tried to rest. Somewhere, a mosquito bumped angrily against canvas; there would be bites in the morning. Eyes closed, I turned to tracing the sounds of a campsite. In the distance a baby cried, dog barked. No birds now, though earlier the raucous lot had entertained: mourning doves, robins, jays; a cardinal had plucked orange berries from a bush with regal ease.

Somewhere in the darkening light was something unknown. A low bzzzzz, followed by a cheerful tickety-tick. I scrunched my face, listening and inching closer to the slight breeze that pushed its way through the screen mesh. Beside me was the steady breathing of a man at rest. Above me came bzzzzzzz, tickety-tick. I opened my eyes.

They took my breath away.

Above me, on the branches that arched lazily over the dome of our tent, was firefly upon firefly. To a music all their own, they danced (lit and unlit in turn) across branch and bush and leaf. Even without glasses I could see the beauty and wonder of this display.

Tickety-tick, bzzzzzz...

I fell asleep that night to the flickering dance of a firefly, with a smile on my lips and the brush of a cooling breeze on hot skin.

Later, recounting the story to a friend, I was taken aback as she shrugged and said, 'I have fireflies in my backyard every night.'

Considering it further, I wondered if my delight was misplaced. Such a simple thing, the firefly. There were thousands of them at the park that weekend; a dozen or so dancing above my head? Surely not a big deal?

I'm realizing, though, that sometimes we need to spend less time searching and learning and more time remembering. Retracing the known, renewing our interest and wonder in what is rather than yearning after what might be.

And sometimes there is wonder in the flickering of fireflies against the deep blue of a night sky. There is wonder in the beads of water on plump, juicy cherries; in the play of light, the gnarled shape of a tree branch, or the green gleam of lake water beneath a hazy sky.

Sometimes we just need to open our eyes to see it.

Tickety-tick, bzzzzzz...

________________________________
Thank you so much for the wee break, friends!
It's good to be back!

What wonder-full thing has snatched your breath away recently?

When the Words Go on Vacation

2011-07-11T05:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I look out over the landscape of the past few years and I marvel a bit at the road we've been walking. Some days dark and dreary, filled with uncertainty. Some days bright and hopeful. And some days just still and quiet with a great need for rest.

And through it all, there have been words aplenty, painting pictures and dreams and grief and joy.

These days, however... in the 'right now' of this sticky summer the words seem to have ventured off for some rest of their own, leaving me quietly alone. The Len is savouring these last two months of his co-op term, and together we're savouring the wonder of long summer nights and crackling fires and nice walks and drives.

There is a sweet, juicy flavour to these days that is almost tangible.

So please forgive me if, for the next little while the words are fewer than normal. If you're looking for us, we're probably in the backyard with our feet up, dreaming dreams and making plans and redesigning the backyard and laughing and grilling and generally soaking up this beautiful thing called family.

Happy summer, friends.

Waffles, anyone?

2011-07-06T05:00:00.019-04:00

Some introductory notes:

1. I got a new cookbook. The Dietitians of Canada finally gave in to my incessant pestering and came up with another cookbook for me. Just in case you forgot, they also put together this one.

2. My plating skills are not MasterChef worthy. Gordon Ramsey would eliminate me very quickly due to my miserable plating skills.

3. Blueberries were on sale. I've been waiting for this. Life is good.

Alright, now that we have that out of the way, let's talk waffles.

The Len really likes waffles, did you know that? It's true. It is so true that one day he added a waffle maker to my birthday list. And for my birthday, I received a waffle maker. To be fair, I do get a lot of use out of it to The Len's great delight.

And so, to please The Len and try out the first of the new cookbook recipes, I present Weekend Wheaty Waffles... my first ever attempt to use whole wheat flour in waffles. Also featuring... the blueberry.

Weekend Wheaty Waffles
Yield: 7 large waffles
Serving size: 1/2 waffle (211 calories)

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
2 tbsp baking powder
2 tbsp granulated sugar
3 eggs
3 cups 1% milk
1/2 cup canola oil

1. In a large bowl, combine all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, baking powder and sugar.

2. In another large bowl, whisk together eggs, milk and oil. Add to flour mixture and stir until well blended.

3. Spray preheated waffle maker lightly with cooking spray. Pour 3/4 cup batter onto waffle maker (or an amount appropriate for your waffle maker) and cook for 3 minutes or until golden brown. Transfer to a plate and keep warm in a preheated oven. Repeat with the remaining batter, spraying waffle maker with vegetable spray as needed.

Notes:
* I added a splash of vanilla, since I love vanilla.
* For those thinking they'll just remove the all-purpose flour and just go hardcore whole wheat... don't. The reason you keep the mixture is to make it tasty. Trust me on this. I do think it could be an adjusted ratio, however, to increase the amount of whole wheat flour.

Enjoy! I loved mine drizzled with some no sugar added syrup and a heaping pile of blueberries.

Never thought to put blueberries on your waffles? Well then, you're welcome.

Four Weeks

2011-07-05T05:00:00.002-04:00

This message brought to you by Sacha:

Four weeks ago the people who feed me just about lost their minds completely. They allowed a giant, smelly beast into my house. There were some sincere and violent expressions of disapproval (from me) none of which seemed to make any difference.

There's only so much time someone so beautiful can spend living under a bed, so I reopened negotiations. The Feeders seemed to actually listen to me at this point, though I still had to inflict some damage on the female's bicep when she attempted to bring The Beast into the conversation.

At any rate, I am pleased to announce that I was able to finally convince them. The Beast is gone. The female Feeder cried a bit, but she kept saying it just wasn't fair anymore. Well, of course it isn't fair. This is my house. I just can't believe it took me four weeks to convince them.

I just wanted to make sure that I got on here and made it very clear how it went down, since I'm sure there would have been a very Beast-friendly twist to the whole thing, and I can't allow that.

Well, enough chit chat. Someone left a glass of water on the table that I need to go knock it over. Ah, life is sweet!

Well, I guess that's one way to tell you that Bridgeport went to a new foster home this weekend. Little Miss has certainly reasserted her authority here, so there is peace again.

I wonder if she would give me matching scars on my other bicep if I suggested she come camping with us.

The Clock is Dead

2011-07-04T07:03:00.045-04:00

My alarm clock is dead.

Well, that's not entirely true. The digital display and radio still function adequately. The buzzer, however? That part of the alarm clock that jars me from sweet sleep and shoves my sleeping self into the reality of a new day far too early in the morning? That part is dead.

I've had this alarm clock for over ten years, and I'm already dreading the thought of shopping for a new one. I happen to be one of those people who is abnormally attached to her alarm clocks. I'm confident that I'm not the only one. After all, isn't one's relationship with on'es alarm clock a fairly intimate one?

This alarm clock has travelled round the world with me. I didn't take my husband to Switzerland but my alarm clock came along. It has stood steadfastly on many bedside tables for many moons, and I am not looking forward to finding its replacement.

You see, an alarm clock needs to be able to handle you at your worst. It needs to be able to shoulder the muttering and grumbling that protest the morning alarm. It must survive being beaten and shoved and smacked. The snooze button, in particular, must be resilient and unflappable. It needs to not comment on how bad your hair looks when you lift your head off the pillow.

I bought this alarm clock at London Drugs. At the time, they had a fantastic alarm clock selection. Some of them were even plugged in so that you could check the volume of the buzzer, and actually test out the buttons. Plus, this one is pretty. And really, it does help if the alarm clock is pretty.

And so, alarm clock hunting I must go. Anyone care to come along (with tissues) just in case it's too traumatic? No? Well, never hurts to ask, right?

And It All Slows Down

2011-06-30T07:00:00.045-04:00

I wake and wonder if my alarm has gone off. I lie there, staring at a sleeping Sacha scant inches away, trying to remember if I've hit the snooze at all this morning. Is my alarm clock broken?

The house is quiet and the morning streams in bright and lazy through the windows. I wish it was Saturday.

I trudge downstairs where The Len is sitting quietly in a bright living room, dozing dog at his feet. I go through the motions of a workday morning, my mind slowly opening and preparing for the day. Mental checklists begin to form through the mixed haze of waking and dreams. I brush my teeth as I rummage in the fridge for something for lunch.

I open my email and time stops. The Len comes and sits besides me, and reads the words I've just read: fever... infection... hospital... pain. We sit holding hands on the couch and before anything else... before tears fall or prayers are spoken I run through the list of things I hate:
I hate cancer.
I hate being so far away.
I hate feeling helpless.
I hate cancer.

I realized months ago that it's okay to feel all those things. It's not selfish or wrong or unChristian. It's okay to feel all that because it's real and it hurts and there's no sense pretending it doesn't.

And God knows. He knows because He's been here, because He loves us, and because our prayers are driven by it. The hurt is what brings us to our knees... throats tight and eyes clamped shut with unspent tears. Oh, He knows.

And there, in fellowship with Him, He uplifts and strengthens us. He reminds us of the Source of all our comfort and hope and confidence. The hurt can still remain, but He slows it down, helps us breathe through it and carries us on His way.

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.” ~ Psalm 91:1&2

_________________________________
Friends, my mom is in the hospital again fighting an infection, and unknown source of abdominal pain. Will you pray?

Forty!

2011-06-29T08:00:00.000-04:00

Today I would like to wish a very happy birthday to my amazing husband and best friend: The Len! In honour of his birthday today, I am going to list my favourite four things about him... one for each decade!

1. His love of the Lord, and the way he praises God in all circumstances. Truly, it strengthens my own faith and gratitude to see how much he loves the Lord, and how grateful he is. I love hearing him share his story of NF1 with people, because his expression of God's faithfulness is so moving each and every time.

2. He always gives 110%. Whether it's his school work or his job, I've never seen a man work harder and give more of himself in everything he does. His dedication and work ethic inspire me.

3. He is the most courageous person I know. In the past few years he has walked a difficult road with courage and integrity and quiet peace, and I am so very humbled to be able to share every step of this road with him.

4. He makes me laugh. Hopefully that's not too corny to say, but really, there is so much joy and laughter in our house because of the wonderful ways he expresses himself. Whether he's singing or tossing out hilarious one-liners or pulling a funny face or quoting a ridiculous movie, the way he makes me laugh has me falling in love with him all over again on a daily basis.

So happy birthday, my love! You are my best friend, my heart, my family.

Wishing you the Lord's rich and lasting blessings in this new year and for many more to come!

XL

2011-06-28T08:51:00.000-04:00

1. The fortieth Schmozzle! I decided that since there is another significant 40 occuring in our family this week, I would post the forthieth Schmozzle as well. Clever, no?

2. Last night, The Len and I booked our one and only camping trip for this summer. I am so excited that we'll be sleeping under the stars in only three weeks! We both realized that this will be the first time we're actually camping with just the two of us, which will be a fun new adventure!

3. Just so you don't get any ideas, my friend Esther's cousin Bubba and his three rotweilers will be staying at our house while we're gone. With his shotgun. I'm not sure if you remember that time Bubba shot the jukebox... said it played a sad song, made him cry...

4. You probably need to be a country music fan to catch the reference above. Google it. It'll be worth it.

5. I wish Canada Post would stop this whole strike thing and get back to work. I have some books that I ordered weeks and weeks ago that I want delivered. Perhaps I should mail them the following letter: 'Dear Canada Post: Please give me my books. You can keep the bills. Thank you.'

6. Did I mention we're going camping? Because we are.

7. My mom was due to start her last round of chemo this week, but her white blood cell count was too low, so it was postponed. Please pray she can get through this last round soon, and put her treatments behind her!

8. If you had a spot in your garden that you wanted to fill with some sort of lowish ground cover, what would you plant?

Burger Bar!

2011-06-27T08:38:00.000-04:00

Each year in June, we have a backyard gathering with friends and family to celebrate someone's birthday. Someone who, without naming names or pointing fingers, just happens to be turning forty this year. This person may or may not be the same person in the last photo... the one wielding a BBQ flipper like a weapon. ('BBQ flipper' being the technical term, of course.)

At any rate, this backyard gathering is a highlight of my year for several reasons. First, I love hosting. Second, it gives me a great opportunity to be creative with food... something else I love. And third (though not least by any means) I love to celebrate anything to do with this guy I call my best friend.

Not to mention that we have awesome family and friends, and it's fun to get together with them!

This year I decided on sliders and a burger bar. I made a few specialty mayos (chipotle and tex mex), an onion relish, and spread out the usual toppings, as well as a few extras, like three different cheeses, some sauteed mushrooms and onions and, the crowd favourite, bacon. Who doesn't love bacon?

Here's the raw version... weighed out at 2-2.3 ounces a piece, and then pressed into shape with the help of a biscuit cutter:

The delicious result:

I believe a good time was had by all. No one said otherwise, so that's safe to assume, right?

And the grilling king:

We closed out the evening with a fire, a few roasted marshmallows, and some great conversation. One of my favourite evenings of the year, to be sure!

Five Minute Friday: Wonder

2011-06-24T07:13:00.001-04:00

Linking up with Lisa Jo again this morning. I'm so happy it's Friday!

For five minutes flat. The rules are easy.

Write your heart out for five minutes and show us what you’ve got. No editing, revising, and worrying. Just set the timer for five minutes and write. Easy peasy.

Dear Lord, do not leave us to wonder. Our hearts are weak and it takes so little, in the face of grief or heartache or disappointment, to wonder whether You have forgotten us.

Change our prayers, Lord, from, 'Give me what I want' to 'Open my eyes to what you've already given me.'

We don't always see, Lord. We squeeze our eyes closed to all else but what our heart desires. And when we choose not to see the lavish blessings You pour over our lives, doubt creeps in.

So when the grief creeps in, Lord, and threatens to outroar the faithful whisper of grace, open our eyes wide. Allow us to see in minute wonder all that You have given us. Teach us that our blessings are so multitude that we can barely count them.

Open our eyes wide, Lord. Our restless hearts need Your wonder... our hearts need Your eyes to see all that You have given us: not just in this life, but also in the life to come.

Held: God's Girls

2011-06-22T06:58:00.000-04:00

There are certain moments that are always etched in your memory... moments of such joy that your heart still stumbles a bit in an effort to contain it. Moments of pain or hurt that can still send a twinge through you as though it was yesterday.

I'm chatting about one of those moments today on Held, as the second part of the God's Girls series:

I was standing in the church nursery, someone else’s toddler on my hip.

I stood a moment, scanning the rest of the children in the room, making mental notes about what mothers had said about sippy cups and rice cookies and naps and runny noses. It was then I realized I was the only adult in the room. A moment later I saw, through the window that connected the infant and toddler nurseries, that all the other women – the mothers – had congregated in the infant room, chatting and laughing.

It was too much...

Will you join me over there to read the rest? Just click here to do so!

Thank you!

A Pressing Question... Or Two

2011-06-21T16:51:00.001-04:00

Remember, how, once upon a time, I would blog super regularly?

Oh yes... and it wasn't even that long ago either!

I even made this comment to someone recently about how I'm really intentional about blogging... and then promptly fell off the face of the planet.

Ahem...

And so, as I return and to honour the ongoing Canadian postal strike, I am simply asking a silly question to break the ice again:

How do you open your envelopes?

Do you carefully use a letter opener?
Do you tap it against a table to shift the contents, and then tear off the narrow edge?
Do you slide your finger under the lip in the hope of keeping the envelope in tact?

Let me know!
Or maybe just tell me something fun you did this past weekend, if you've never opened an envelope in your life.

One Week Later

2011-06-14T08:58:00.000-04:00

Remember this beautiful girl? Yes, she is still around. She now lives in a fortress called Our Bedroom and hasn't been out since Wednesday. I think if a certain someone didn't feel the need to chase her everytime she attempted to emerge from hiding, she might come out more often. As it stands now, she has made it clear that she will not be coming out until he leaves.

Yes, Sacha has left us with an 'it's either me or him' ultimatum. Thankfully, she's a cat and lacks the power to actually do anything about her ultimatum, but I think it makes her feel better to have made it in the first place.

This good fellow has been with us for a week now. It seems much, much longer. I'm not sure why that is, but we've passed the documented 'Day 7' defiance, and our sweet boy is back to his regular, playful self. He will now eat without needing me to be right besude him, and has even taken to growling very quietly at anyone who walks by on the sidewalk. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. He appears to dislike those who loiter.

Perhaps I need a sign? 'Loiterers Beware!'

We are finding this fostering experience very interesting. Thankfully, the organization we are part of is extremely helpful and knowledgeable. They've given us everything we need (food, bowls, leashes, toys, treats, etc), are available by cell or email should we have questions, and are generally just very thankful that we've opened up our home to a dog in need.

I also have several dog-smart friends who have far more experience than I do, to whom I can send silly emails like, 'He won't stop licking my leg. Is that a problem?' and they'll reply, 'No, why would that be a problem?' which makes me feel better.

So here we are. One week into fostering this sweet, playful boy, and still enjoying having him around. Two of us are, at least. The wee black cheetie? Not so much.

Now, to convince him to stop licking my leg.

A Hand On Us Both

2011-06-13T10:22:00.000-04:00

We were driving to my sister's place. Michael Card was singing his 'Job Suite' softly in the background as we rolled down Highway 6. One of my favourites, I reached to turn up the volume: I did not want to miss the sweeping crescendo as Job exclaims, 'I know that my Redeemer lives...' (Job 19:25).

In the waiting, another line in the song struck me: 'A Counselor between us, to come hear my oath / Someone who could lay a hand on us both'. Despite my love of this song, I could not recall hearing those words so clearly before.

Someone to lay a hand on us both...

There is so much in the book of Job... so much to learn about who God is not (from Job's friends) and so much to learn about who God is. We write book upon book about patience in suffering, perseverence in adversity; we take it upon ourselves to set up our suffering beside his and evaluate which is worse.

As we drove through gently rolling hills yesterday, I remembered a stunning sermon on Job that challenged us to remember that we will never suffer as deeply as Job for one reason, and one reason alone: Jesus.

Someone to lay a hand on us both...

Later last night after returning home I sought out that verse that Michael Card was referencing in his song:

If I say, ‘I will forget my complaint,
I will change my expression, and smile,’
I still dread all my sufferings,
for I know you will not hold me innocent.
Since I am already found guilty,
why should I struggle in vain?
Even if I washed myself with soap[b]
and my hands with washing soda,
you would plunge me into a slime pit
so that even my clothes would detest me.

“He is not a man like me that I might answer him,
that we might confront each other in court.
If only there were someone to arbitrate between us,
to lay his hand upon us both,
someone to remove God’s rod from me,
so that his terror would frighten me no more.
Then I would speak up without fear of him,
but as it now stands with me, I cannot.
~ Job 9:27-35

What stunning words from a battered, faith-filled man... a man who understood his deep need for a Saviour while holding firmly to the promise made by a faithful God. What a beautiful confession from a man who lost every earthly thing but never took his eyes from his one eternal need.

I walk through trials... I face loss and grief and heartache and disappointment. We all walk that narrow road of life in a broken world but our reality is different than Job's... not because of the extent of suffering, but because of Someone who bridged the gap.

Someone who made us innocent through the shedding of blood not our own.
Someone who washed us, allowing us to claim His righteousness was ours.
Someone who lifted us from the slimy pit and set us on solid ground.
Someone who removed the fear and barrier to intimate fellowship with God.

Someone who lays a hand on us both.

And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. ~ Isaiah 9:6

Wonderful.
Counsellor.
Jesus.

________________________________
Linking up with Michelle this morning at Graceful:

XXXIX

2011-06-10T08:46:00.000-04:00

1. I do not have the brain power this morning for a Five Minute Friday so I am tossing in a Schmozzle to appease the crowds. You're welcome.

2. The Humidity Heat Wave has left us for the time being, and this morning it is a delicious 17 degrees. Lovely. Still warm enough for flip flops, but I don't break out in a sweat when blinking.

3. I love bananas. Real bananas, mind you. None of that artificially flavoured banana stuff: KitKats, pudding, TimBits. Yes, I'm talking to you, Tim Hortons. Artificially flavoured banana timbits are a violation.

4. This guy is still with us. He's ridiculously handsome and such a good boy...

5. He may also have a fascination with other dogs. Especially those walking on the sidewalk outside our front window. Yesterday while we were at work I'm thinking quite a few dogs walked by. That's the story the shredded curtain is telling at least:

6. The Len has a gross summer cold that makes him sound like a frog. It is difficult to do phone support whilst sounding like a frog. Last night he tried to tell Bridgeport to stop scratching at the door and no sound came out but a strangled gargle. Poor guy...

7. Coffee = good. Yes.

Held: When It's Not Okay

2011-06-08T06:39:00.000-04:00

Sometimes we try so hard.

Our hearts bursting while our minds try to convince us to feel otherwise. Sometimes all we need is a friend who will let us grieve.

Can I be that friend for you today?

I'd love for you to join me over at Held! See you there!

Upside Down

2011-06-07T06:23:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time I discovered that my friend Vince works for a fantastic organization called The Dog Rescuers. He told me story after story of rescues and fostering and training and adoptions, and I knew that this organization did everything it could for hundreds of dogs with the limited resources they had.

One day I sent an email to the organizer and said, 'I know you're looking for foster families, so if we can help (and oh, by the way, we're complete newbies to owning a dog), let us know.'

And then the call came. A whole lot more rapidly than we were expecting, and now the sweet boy in that photo is drooling on my leg while I'm typing this. He thinks he wants to go back outside and play in the yard, but he's forgetting the thunderstorm that sent him yelping inside just ten minutes ago.

His name is Bridgeport, although I think Sacha has a far different name for him. He's an eight year old Shepherd/Belgian Malnois cross, and he's settling in as well as can be expected. We're not sure how long we'll have him, but we'll love him to pieces while he's here.

So what do you say? Would you like to hear about our adventures in fostering?

Before I Ask 'Why Me?'

2011-06-06T05:00:00.000-04:00

I used to spend a good deal of time thinking I was owed this, that or the other. I had an idea of what my life was supposed to look like, how events were meant to play out. Clinging to those ideals in the face of trial or difficulty left me disappointed and confused.

Recently, a pastor read Psalm 10 to us, and this verse leapt off the page:

He says to himself, “Nothing will shake me;
I’ll always be happy and never have trouble.” (v. 6)

I can remember specific times in my life where I woke up expecting a life filled with all things good. I expected to be happy, and perhaps I couldn't expect no trouble, but most certainly I'd have very little. These are the expectations we have... sometimes acknowledged, sometimes not.

Until that moment when hard times press us into tight, thin spaces and we believe we're forgotten, that the events in our life a roiling mass of unfair, impossible injustice.

The catch?

The words of verse six are not spoken by the righteous man... they are not words to be found in the phrase book of the godly. Those words above are the words of the arrogant wicked, who believe God can't see us and that our lives are independent of Him and His will.

But oh, how those words resonated with me. Sliced me straight to the quick.

The pastor went on to address the very heart of everyone who sat there, those who read those words and felt the stab of conviction in their hearts:

"Before you ask, 'Why me?' ask, 'Who is God?'"

He pointed us to Isaiah 44, telling us to count how many times the word 'who' was used:

This is what the LORD says—
your Redeemer, who formed you in the womb:
I am the LORD,
who has made all things,
who alone stretched out the heavens,
who spread out the earth by myself,

who foils the signs of false prophets
and makes fools of diviners,
who overthrows the learning of the wise
and turns it into nonsense,
who carries out the words of his servants
and fulfills the predictions of his messengers,

who says of Jerusalem, ‘It shall be inhabited,’
of the towns of Judah, ‘They shall be built,’
and of their ruins, ‘I will restore them.’ (v. 24-26)

You can barely make it past the first few lines before the 'Why me?' seems to slip away and we are left awed and amazed by this God who formed us, chose us, made us His.

We can live our lives expecting no trouble and railing at perceived injustice because life is hard. And some days we will because we are small and He is big, and we cannot fully fathom the mystery of who He is or how He loves us.

But perhaps, in His strength, we can remember that we do not share the sentiments of the wicked man of Psalm 10: we will not wish for what was not promised. And perhaps, the next time the 'Why me?' bubbles to the surface, we can reach for the Word and Isaiah 44 and let God show us who He is.

That's why I'm praying for: more of Him, less of me. And I know that's a prayer He'll answer...
________________________________
Linking up with Michelle this morning at Graceful.

Five Minute Friday: Every Day

2011-06-03T06:56:00.001-04:00

Linking up with Lisa Jo again this morning. See how I kept my promise to blog more faithfully this week?
For five minutes flat. The rules are easy.

Write your heart out for five minutes and show us what you’ve got. No editing, revising, and worrying. Just set the timer for five minutes and write. Easy peasy.
Every day I pause a moment to find the music that seems to whisper softly (though not always) in the background of all the events and moments that make a life.

Whether it thumb to iPod, searching for the right artist to sing my way to work or the pause in the midst of chaos to find an anchor, a reason, a hope.

In those moments when the world spins fast and the every day whirls at an alarming pace, it is the Word that sets it right: that soundtrack to every situation we might face... each joy, grief, hope and plea. Set down infallible and marked in our hearts for memory and music and the solid foundation that makes the 'every day' possible.

There is music in the Word... created beautiful, and full of joy and promise and a love like no other.

Desktop Joy

2011-06-02T07:00:00.001-04:00

This past weekend, my friend Dawn came to visit and brought with her a new friend: her Canon Rebel T2i DSLR. Then, being the wonderful friend she is, she let me play with it. A lot. A lot a lot.

Which made me very happy.

So, after snapping some sweet photographs of the spring that was bursting into bloom throughout the neighbourhood, I decided to update my desktop photo with one of my own photos. (Have we talked about how much I love Picnik?)

I love seeing the Word of God paired with photos of his beautiful creation!

If you were adding a verse, which one would you choose?

Or, if you have a blog, let's have some fun. Grab the photo from Flikr, add your own verse, and upload it to your blog. Maybe we can spread the love with some uplifting desktop photos for our friends and families!

Be sure to leave a comment so I can visit your blog and see the verse you've chosen!
________________________________
Want the photo above for your computer desktop? Just click the photo! When it expands, right click and choose the option 'Set as Background'. You're all set!

Sit Yourself Down

2011-06-01T05:00:00.077-04:00

Her wails are loud, persistent. A long day already and her cries grate my last nerves down to raw, pulsing impatience. Pressing fingers against closed eyes, I wonder if this snarl of frustration - so uncontrolled, so spontaneous - is why we don't have a children. A silly question, but it bubbles to the surface and scrapes a sharp nail across a familiar bruise.

I sort the mail as she winds her lithe body around my ankles, nudges with her wet nose. It's a simple thing she wants: a patch of fresh-cut grass in the cool shade of late afternoon.

Sighing, I relent. I slip on her harness, grab a book, the shed key to retrieve the lawn chairs and head outside. A hot day and humid but a breeze sends out cool fingers, and in the shade of the white shed, it is almost perfect. I loop the leash around my toe - nails brightly blue - and sink into a chair.

She sprawls, all sleek and black, onto a patch of grass. Amber eyes alert to everything, she watches leaves dance and bugs fly. She is still.

Be still...

The realization then, of the gift: a piercing wail to drive my hungry heart to stillness. A hard, heavy day of frustration and go go go and the pressure to be more and move more and work more and come home to the same: dinner and dishes and weeding and laundry and somewhere in there, maybe a brisk walk and a chance to chat with my best friend and collapse into bed.

Be still and know...

She pounces on a leaf, white paws swift to slow the skipping green across the grass. A bird trills some wild song in the branches above and I think of Jesus and his quiet place... his deep need for stillness and prayer. He knew what it was to pull back from the press of crowds and sick and questions and scorn and the heavy heavy weight of those who would not believe: our sympathetic High Priest in the grey pre-dawn praying in the trailing calm of a cool breeze.

Be still and know that I am God...

Stop. Cease striving.
Slow the pace. Sit yourself down.

To know, to grow in knowledge, to learn and grasp and discern and recognise... this is not done at the break-neck speed of modern life, pausing barely to breathe or sleep lest we lose our place and fall behind. This is knowledge found in revelation: etched in seed and bark and leaf and tree, studied close and slow. This is memory carved deep into faith's heart as we tilt back the head and stare up at the vast blue that He made and upholds and paints anew each morning and evening... for us.

We are not made for speed or toil or exhaustion.
We are made for a hungry pursuit of one thing: to know God.

The God who is the very Word given: complete and breathed and scribed perfectly by imperfect men. The Creator God who carved this world (made perfect, soiled, saved) with words. The Word become flesh who dwelt among us and knows the press and bustle of a life lived here in a busted world.

It is this knowledge - and the Spirit-driven hunger for it - that slows our pace and opens our eyes wide to seek His face.

So when the wail is loud and piercing, and your heart wound too tight to breathe, sit yourself down.

He is there in that quiet place.
He will meet you there to show you who He is.

Pen Pal Memories

2011-05-31T05:00:00.050-04:00

I loved walking to the mailbox as a little girl.

Oddly enough, I have some very vivid memories of that maple-lined driveway in B.C.'s Sumas Prairie, unpaved and often sporting playful puddles. I remember wandering back to the house, pausing here and there to see whether the spinning of the earth would eventually bring me to the back door. (My four year old mind may have been missing some of the finer points of physics.) On another occasion, an odd slappity-slap as I skipped back to the house made me aware that my favourite pair of sandals was broken.

And the puddles! Oh, the puddles and rubber boots and the hard clutch of envelopes to my chest so as not to let them plop into inviting mud. I remember particularly loving puddles...

The mailbox that hangs outside our front door is considerably less inviting than the one I knew as a child. I was a letter-writer as a child: that time when postage was cheap and email non-existant and you could meet people halfway around the world through letters covered in bright stickers and different coloured inks.

Now? Mostly bills and bills and junk and flyers.

Not always, though. One day, a week ago, I received a letter: hand written on pretty stationery by a sweet niece across the country.

It took very little effort to remember those days when receiving a letter meant digging through a healthy supply of stationery, pulling up to my bedroom desk and carefully crafting a reply. And then the march back to the mailbox to carefully raise the red flag to alert the mailman of outgoing mail.

After receiving that letter from my niece, I headed up to my spare room to search for some remnants of my penpal life. Sure enough, after a little digging, I uncovered a dusty box with some pretty stationery: song birds and matching envelopes with sweet, painted bird houses.

I can't wait to write my niece back, write out her name and address above those sweet birdhouses, and pop that letter into the mail.

Technology might have created new ways for us to keep in touch, but sometimes... well, sometimes the old ways are sweet reminders of where we've been.

_______________________________
Did you have penpals as a child? Do you still write letters today?

Looking with Love

2011-05-30T07:23:00.000-04:00

He said from the pulpit:
If you are looking at your neighbour with envy, you cannot look at your neighbour in love.

I shifted my Bible back and forth in my hands, and glanced down at the little girl beside me who was weaving her purse strap through and around her fingers. I squirmed a bit, grateful for the momentary distraction.

An uncomfortable truth, that. The words of 1 Corinthians 13 began to tumble through my mind: 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.' (v. 4)

I don't know about you, but I have my moments of envy. I see something in a friend's life, whether big or small, and I wish I had the same. In mere moments my heart is wondering why she has what I do not; I wonder how to get my hands on it. A seed so small as a single thought gives life to a tree large and looming, blocking out any light of love.

Most days I believe these can co-exist. I can love my neighbour and still envy. I can ignore the myriad number of emotions rooted in sin that drown out opportunities for love and still find ways to love. It is a lie: envy cancels love. I look to my neighbour in love or envy: it cannot be both.

As I've been meditating on this truth for the past week, the Lord showed me that opening the door to envy closes the same door to compassion, gentleness, protection, trust, empathy, encouragement... love can find expression in oh-so many ways, opening doors and opportunities to be God's hands and feet here on earth. Envy slams that door shut on our fingers, leaving us raw and bleeding.

'It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.' 1 Corinthians 13:5-7 (emphasis mine)

Love is not my natural reflex when dealing with my neighbour.
But it is His way, and He can change my 'sometimes' into 'always'.

_________________________________
Linking up this morning with Michelle at Graceful.

Five Minute Friday: On Forgetting

2011-05-27T06:46:00.002-04:00

Linking up with Lisa Jo again this morning. And yes, I promise to blog more faithfully next week.

For five minutes flat. The rules are easy.

Write your heart out for five minutes and show us what you’ve got. No editing, revising, and worrying. Just set the timer for five minutes and write. Easy peasy.

They forget I have personal space issues.

The spider in the shower this morning that The Len had to get wet to kill.

The walking stick bug that sat on the backseat of our Grand Am as I drove to the park store to get ice. I didn't take my eyes off the rear view mirror the whole time. It's a wonder I didn't drive into a tree.

The bazillapede that stuck to The Len's suit jacket and made me screech. (Apparently my personal space issues are large enough to encompass his personal space as well.)

The nameless bug that fell from the ceiling at work, zipped past my nose and landed right on the desk in front of me.

They forget I don't want to interact with them on that level. They can exist and do their thing, but they need to stay away from me.

These are moments I don't forget. I remember them so clearly, my skin still crawls and I shudder at the mere thought. Personal space: this needs to be respected. As a general memo to the bug community: please leave me alone.

The spider in the shower this morning made me forget if I had washed my hair.

And so I washed it twice. Perhaps thrice. To be honest, I forget.

Held: God's Girls

2011-05-25T05:00:00.017-04:00

Walking the road of infertility raised a lot of hard questions.

Will we ever have children?
Why, when we have so much love to give, are we unable to have children?
What does life look like without children?

These are tough, soul-searching, faith-challenging questions.

One of the hardest, however, came down to who I was if I wasn't a mother.

Who was I?
What is a woman in God's family, if she isn't a mother?

This question shook me to my core. I felt shattered and broken as a woman.

Today I am so thankful to be starting a new series on Held called God's Girls: a series of posts designed to help us root our identity in who we are in Christ rather than in the roles we fill as women.

Will you join me over there today as I launch the series? Oh thank you!

Click here as we begin to uncover some lies and replace them with truth!

Five Minute Friday: When Seasons Change

2011-05-20T06:52:00.001-04:00

Linking up with Lisa-Jo again this morning:

For five minutes flat. The rules are easy.

Write your heart out for five minutes and show us what you’ve got. No editing, revising, and worrying. Just set the timer for five minutes and write. Easy peasy.

Today's prompt: When Seasons Change...

From fall leaves to snowfall, to tiny buds making green the world and summer bringing fruit and sun and heat. The changing seasons are markers of time and space; windows into opportunity and anticipation coupled with memories of last year and what was done then.

We change wardrobes; swap out closets of clothes and jackets for what seems more appropriate. Sandals for boots and ball caps for warm winter hats to ward off the chill.

We change.
The seasons change.

And there is no more steadfast testimony of the Creator's faithful, loving hand than the slow turn of season to season. We can wonder at His nearness. We can plead with evidence of His work in our life.

Or we can slow down to watch a bud bloom on an ancient tree, and understand that He is near and working and faithful in all that He does.

God is, and all is well.

And He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

The change of season bears witness to His amazing love.

The Post I Don't Know How to Write

2011-05-18T06:00:00.005-04:00

Did you know that May is NF Awareness Month?

It's okay. I wasn't testing you. And really, it's the 18th of May. Surely I should have said something by now.

It wasn't for lack of thinking about it, let me tell you that much. I've been trying to decide what I should say, how I should say it. I did some cursory Google searches to see what others were saying. Not much, apparently. A few years ago, yes. This year? Apparently the NF1 community is, for the most part, unsure of how you generate awareness.

A fair question, I think. How, exactly, do you generate a comprehensive understanding of a disease in its research infancy? How do attempt to capture the myriad array of symptoms, experiences, difficulties? After awhile it all seems to blur together into this giant mess of NF confusion.

It's not for lack of stories, to be sure.

There's The Len, his pain, the two tumours removed from C1/C2, the six remaining, significant tumours that span his spinal column and lung, and the myriad of surface tumours.

There's this brave little girl, Mia, with brain tumours and the sweetest face you'll ever see.

Or how about post-op photos of this beautiful woman who had 19 tumours removed in one surgery and is now undergoing clinical trials on a drug called Gleeve-C, which may help reduce tumour growth.

A few months ago we met sweet, gorgeous Abigail.

And there are so many more.

Some cases mild. Some not. Some progressing so early on in life it makes you want to weep, while others live without limited symptoms for decades, perhaps never even being diagnosed. Some horrificly disfigured, others not. Some inheriting the disease from a parent, others whose genetic structure mutated spontaneously.

Children and adults who have lost limbs because tumours compromised bone integrity.

Some who have faced chemo and raditation when that seemingly miniscule 3% chance of malignancy became reality.

How do you describe that? How do you generate awareness about a disease that can touch so many and have so many faces?

What do you say about a disease with no prevention and no cure?

In the end, the only real answer I can come up with is that we tell our stories, as varied and complex as they may be. Those who read or listen to those stories will understand some small part of it, and that will need to suffice.

And that's what I do here. What you read here is a life lived with NF1, and all that comes with it. And if anyone understands how abstract it must seem, it's us. We get it. If you read in the quiet of wherever you are, and send up a prayer for strength and peace, that's all we'd ask for.

Well, maybe we'd ask for one more thing... maybe we can help sweet Mia make her 1,000,000 'Likes' on Facebook. And maybe you can open your newsfeed to the life and pictures of a sweet little girl who walks (in some ways) a similar road.

I think we can ask for that, right?

Thought so.

XXXVIII

2011-05-17T06:00:00.022-04:00

1. I was reminded recently that it has been far too long since I've Schmozzled. Truth be told, this is the first Schmozzle of 2011.

2. How do you say 2011? I desperately want to say 'twenty eleven' but I don't. And then each time I actually say 'two thousand eleven' I mentally kick myself in the shin.

3. Sacha knows that it is Spring. I am nearly convinced that somewhere along a baseboard she ticks off the days so that she knows exactly when to commence wailing at the back door to be let out. She may be part dog. Or part elephant. Maybe that's the part of her that remembers where the red harness and leash are, and what they're meant for. I think that makes her a ca-do-phelant.

h. I found seed potatoes. In previous years, I have always gone looking for them when it is too late, and I cannot find them. Here at last is proof that you can teach an old ca-do-phelant new tricks.

5. I love peanut butter. It needs to be said.

6. My house plants are surviving and thriving. True. The minor exception may be the spider plant, which Sacha used to play an ongoing game of Throw-It-On-The-Floor. A plant can only handle being unmercilessly uprooted so many times before you must take pity on it.

7. In other news, spider plants are not poisonous to cats. That's a good thing.

P. The Len has a Town Hall Meeting at work on Wednesday, which will be followed by bowling. I don't quite understand why a team meeting is a 'Town Hall' meeting, but I have come to the following conclusions: a: it probably has something to do with the fact that the VP of Operations is also the mayor of OrangeTown, and b: I think I work at the wrong company.

My Favourite Things: Monday

2011-05-16T20:00:00.019-04:00

Last night, after spending most of the weekend (and Thursday and Friday, no less) on the couch alternating between coughing, sneezing, whining, generally feeling miserable and watching far too much TV on my laptop, I crawled into bed and reached for a book.

My brain let out a giant sigh of relief. You may have heard that.

I have very few favourite authors, and while I don't read as much fantasy as someone else who lives in this house, I do love Guy Gavriel Kay and his particularly wondrous brand of fantasy.

So I reached for the first in his foundational trilogy, squished myself down into the covers and settled in for some delicious reading.
And promptly fell asleep.

Hey, I've been sick. Cut me some slack here.

At any rate, when I woke this morning I knew I should blog about this favourite series, and maybe find out what some of your favourite series are. It's summer. There's time for reading. Who couldn't use a recommendation or two?

So if you love a good fantasy series with deep, well-woven folklore and deeply poignant emotional connection, I really recommend this series.

If you want something a little lighter, I recommend Tigana. To be fair, The Len loved Tigana, and not The Fionavar Tapestry. And for good reason... Tigana is stunning and moving all at once.

So tell me, what are you favourite rereads? Your favourite series?

Wok Whaa...?

2011-05-11T07:00:00.000-04:00

My friend Rachel, who was born in Taiwan, tells me 'wok hei' means 'breath of the wok'. She tells me this as she explains how to initally season a carbon steel wok.

I have a wok.
It is carbon steel.
It is not seasoned.

I have created a new phrase: 'Wok eeeeep' which, of course, means 'scared of the wok'.

I have told Rachel many, many times that she needs to drive herself from Maryland to My Town to season my wok (and spend hours over coffee and chocolate chatting about this, that and the next thing.)

Even my lure of chocolate chip cookies has not yet convinced her.

It could be that she knows I'll probably ask her to cook authentic Taiwanese cuisine once she's here.

It could also be that she's fairly confident I can season the wok myself without breaking it.

Hmph...

Or, she's waiting for me to pull out the big guns in terms of bribery, so here it is:

Rachel, if you come to visit and season my wok, I will wash your car and come over to rake leaves.

I am a genius. Off to prepare for her imminent arrival...

Way With Words

2011-05-10T06:00:00.001-04:00

He was asleep. I lay awake, mind stumbling until it set down upon an elusive word.. then another.

Quietly, I tossed back the covers and padded downstairs. Sat in the still of a quiet house while the laptop screen glowed blue in the dark. Waited for a document to load, fingers poised over keys, mind tracing down words found in order not to lose them.

As I slipped back up the stairs to the warmth of bed, I realized I never pictured it this way. Writing, yes. Work? Not quite.

People sometimes tell me I have a way with words, and years ago I would nod and smile and silently agree. Now it seems different. I longed for words my way before, and now?

Now the words find me.
And I hope and pray with each tap of the backspace key that they are His words, not mine.

For His glory, not mine.
For His fame, not mine.

And that's a shift I'm not shy about. Had you found me at a poetry reading in college I would have told you my plans: awards, renown, guest lecturing, travel.

In third grade, words had opened up the world to me and I dreamed of seeing it all. An explosion then, of colour and expression... words tumbling down and out and somehow I thought it was my way with words that made that writing sweet.

And now? Deliberate, slow, even painful at times. Always words given, not found, by the One who has shown His way with my words all along.

We can make our own plans,
but the Lord gives the right answer.
~ Proverbs 16:1 (NLT)

Will you pray then, friend, that I never lose sight of this... that His way is always more fruitful than mine? And pray, please, that in whatever plans I make, that the Lord will give the words, the right answer. Oh, thank you!

My Favourite Things: Monday

2011-05-09T06:00:00.000-04:00

I love Spring. I love watching the world slowly green and then almost overnight the world seems aflame with colour! Blossoms and buds and first leaves...

My camera and I took advantage of the gorgeous weather yesterday to document the unfolding of Spring:

Happy Spring, friends!

Five Minute Friday: Motherhood

2011-05-06T07:11:00.002-04:00

This morning I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo over at The Gypsy Mama where she's hosting Five Minute Friday.

For five minutes flat. The rules are easy.

Write your heart out for five minutes and show us what you’ve got. No editing, revising, and worrying. Just set the timer for five minutes and write. Easy peasy.

So... here goes:

I've been wanting to participate in The Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Friday for a few weeks now, and never got around to it. Waking this morning to the smell of fresh coffee (and thinking it was Saturday) I decided to take the five minutes before work to do so.

And the prompt turns out to be: Motherhood should come with...

Well, that about did me in. I should have expected it, I suppose. Mother's Day is this weekend, and my heart's been fumbling with how to respond and been getting a bit bogged down in the process.

Then I realized, I've been blessed with three mothers. Surely I know something of motherhood, despite being childless?

And so, as a child raised by three mothers (one biological until I was fifteen, one 'foster' until I was 18, and my step mom since I was 22) I would say that motherhood should come with awareness.

Awareness that you are uniquely perfect to raise your child.
Awareness that you can love them better (most often) than anyone else.
Awareness that sometimes it's hard, but we'll thank you for that in the end.

Awareness that you will be the one we want to talk to when life is hard and our hearts are heavy.
Awareness that when we grow and desire our own children, it's so that we can give them even the smallest portion of what we knew in you.

And awareness, ultimately, that we, as kids, will realize how blessed we are in the end. So very, very blessed.

Approval

2011-05-05T07:00:00.058-04:00

We're walking through Sam's Club, my friend and I. As I wheel the cart through aisles of toilet paper and oversize spice jars, she shops for herself and I fumble through what I'm feeling. I rummage in my mind and heart for words that express the massive stone wall that stands in front of me, and that fear that eggs me on from behind.

'I feel like I'm a disappointment,' I finally blurt out. 'I feel I've let them down by gaining some weight back.'

And there it is, really. The desperate need to lose my weight for others... to be loved more deeply... to have some guarantee that they should love me. 'I lost the weight,' my heart cries, 'You have to love me unconditionally now.'

She reaches for something. My eyes have welled with tears, and I can't focus on what it is. She is quiet for a moment before saying, 'But we should please God, not men.

I know the verse:

'Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.' ~ Galatians 1:10

I push the cart down an aisle of bright packages of dog food as I silently think over her words. People-pleasing has long been an issue of mine. I ponder why, even knowing the true source of unconditional love, I continue to exchange that truth for lies.

I consider Paul's words to the Galatians (to me!) and realize that living that lie stands not only in the way of my weight loss journey, but my servanthood to Christ.

Jesus tells us that we cannot serve two masters. In that instance, he uses the example of money, but standing there at the Sam's Club check out in a crisp March evening, I know the same is true of my need for approval.

I need to lose the weighty need for approval before I can move towards a fuller life of service to Christ. On its own, that could be a daunting task if I had to do it myself. But I don't.

I have the light and love of Christ to work that in me, through His Holy Spirit.

And I have good friends and family who will speak the truth of Christ in love.

Oh sweet and so-amazing grace!

My Favourite Things: Monday

2011-05-02T07:00:00.000-04:00

I had been waiting for an update on my mom, and her return from the hospital. An infection, low calcium levels and a blood clot had seen her admitted before Good Friday, and her return home date moved from Tuesday to Thursday to...

Saturday night, after an email announcing her return home, I picked up the phone to touch base with my father.

On the other end of the line, the ringing stopped and I heard a soft crackling noise. My mind fumbled over the strange familiarity of that sound until I realized my mother (with her mostly non-voice) had answered the phone.

For those who may not know, my mom was diagnosed with esophageal cancer in November of last year, and in January of this year underwent surgery to remove most of her esophagus and her voicebox. She now breathes through a hole in her throat called a stoma, and when she's finished these rounds of radiation and chemo, she'll be fitted with a prosthesis to help her speak.

She can communicate, though. If you're sitting with her, you can have a full conversation. Sure, maybe a few words will need to be written, but you can 'hear' her and most definitely understand her.

It's a little harder over the phone, but I was thrilled how I was able to catch almost everything she said, and my heart soared at being able to chat with her.

A girl needs to talk to her mama.

Don't get me wrong... I love my dad. And if he and I didn't have a shared aversion to the telephone, we'd be all chatty too.

But somedays, a girl just needs to be able to talk to her mama.

And Saturday night, it was sweet, sweet joy to be do so.

Hanging Out

2011-04-29T07:00:00.016-04:00

Photo Credit

You probably can't see them, but I can... the few strands of silver that are making their home with the rest of my browns. It's been over a year since I last coloured my hair, and since wearing my hair short my natural colour has returned quickly. Turns out I like it.

Turns out, the grey has been growing as swiftly as the rest.

I promise this won't turn into a 'I'm getting so old!' post. I am a very happy thirty two years old, and grateful for every year. I love birthdays. In a world where babies and toddlers and kids and teens and young adults die young, growing old is a blessing... one that I'm pretty excited about.

(Popping off the soap box again.)

The greys though... I'm having some trouble adjusting. I have no issue with colouring hair to hide greys, or for whatever other reason you want to colour your hair. That's not what this is about. I am, however, trying to embrace the greys with as much enthusiasm as I embrace my birthday and the obligatory cupcakes. And failing.

We have a chat on occasion, my greys and I. I set the ground rules very firmly:

'Greys,' I say, 'If you come in nice and silvery and straight, I will let you stay. I won't even colour you. However, if you come in all squirrely and funny looking, you'll be evicted.'

(I may or may not prefer 'silver' to 'grey'. That particular euphemism has a nice distinguished air to it. And I do like to put on airs...)

The silvers? They've agreed to our arrangement, and we've been hanging out amicably - for the most part. I may or may not occasionally lean in close to the mirror to make sure they haven't slipped quietly out the backdoor.

So far, they're hanging around.
And together, we're hanging out.

Silver squirrely-ness notwithstanding...

Held: In These Shoes

2011-04-27T06:00:00.002-04:00

I was no stranger to infertility or loss when I married my best friend.

My oldest sister has three precious babies she will not get to hold on this side of grace, and my second oldest sister struggled two years to have her first son… another four to have her second.

I was young when my three sisters were having their babies, or trying to. I finished high schools as nieces and nephews joined our extended family, and then I moved on to finish college. By then I had watched my sister walk a dark and lonely road in her desire for children. I didn’t understand it then… her grief, her longing, the isolation she drew about her as her sisters and friends announced pregnancy after pregnancy.

I remember the way our family used to talk about her struggle… how we decided that if she just relaxed, or spent less time desiring the children that they would simply come. We scratched our heads for a time and then assumed she was simply refusing to ‘get over it’.

I was no stranger to infertility or loss when my husband and I dreamed of growing our family. I was no stranger and yet I still made broad, naïve proclamations about how infertility wouldn’t affect me like that… how I would shrug it off, how it wouldn’t matter.

I didn’t understand then what I know now...

Will you join me over on Held to read the rest? Oh, thank you!

Myth: Giving Up Hope

2011-04-26T06:00:00.011-04:00

I will likely never be the one giving one of those fun, creative announcements... I will likely never walk into a room full of unsuspecting family and friends wearing a 'Baby on Board' tee only to have everyone leap up with excitement. In that particular fantasy, everyone is crying... including me. I think it's the only daydream where I relish the thought of everyone weeping. Tears of joy, of course.

When The Len and I realized we were meant to lead a child-free life, there was so much peace and healing that came with it that part of me longed to make an announcement.

Turns out the 'we're-living-a-child-free-life' announcement is not one that most know how to deal with. I should have anticipated that, of course. What I hadn't anticipated, however, was the assumption that we were giving up. Many assumed that hope was lost... the we were beaten past our resistance point and were waving the white flag of surrender and defeat.

Some replied with, 'Well, we'll keep praying that it happens for you!' or 'We won't give up hope!'

I don't hold these responses against anyone. I know very well how anomalous our life is compared to most of those around us. We understand how it must appear that we don't 'just adopt', and we have no issue explaining how we feel adoption is a calling God places on families, and not just the next treatment step in the stages of infertility.

But this week I am taking up the challenge to bust an infertility myth: choosing to live child-free does not equal hopeless, empty or less. Instead, we choose to embrace our life as God intended it: a life overflowing with rich blessing, joy and thankfulness. There may not be children, but a family lives within these four walls.

What's more, the Lord restored my hope through all of this. Despite the remaining grief that lingers with infertility, I have hope and joy for the future... I look forward with great anticipation to what else He has in store for us, and I pray that He uses this family of ours richly in His kingdom.

We are still infertile.
We no longer actively pursue any path to parenthood.
We consider our family complete as two.

Not because infertility beat us to a point of defeat.
Not because we never wanted children in the first place.
And most certainly not because we gave up hope.

Your unfailing love is better than life itself;

how I praise you!

I will praise you as long as I live,

lifting up my hands to you in prayer.

You satisfy me more than the richest feast.

I will praise you with songs of joy.

~Psalm 63:3-5 (NLT)~

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Joining this week's efforts during National Infertility Awareness Week.

Today!

2011-04-25T06:00:00.041-04:00

You've been patiently waiting for the past ten days as we counted down and generated some excited, and we are so thrilled to announce that Held is live today!

If you haven't already popped over, I really encourage you to do so... one in six couples will face some form of infertility or loss. That means that even if you are reading this and have never faced infertility or loss, it is very likely that someone you know and love is riding that emotional rollercoaster.

If you've ever wondered how you can support your loved ones...
If you've ever wondered what we as couples and families face in our desire to have children of our own...
If you've ever wondered if you're alone on this road...

we hope and pray that Held will be a valuable resource for you.

Please join us!

The timing of our launch is not accidental. April 24-30th is the (American) National Infertility Awareness Week. Mother's Day is right around the corner, followed by the Canadian Infertility Awareness Week, and then by Father's Day. It can be a difficult time of year, so please join us. We offer encouragement, love and support for the journey.

Risen Indeed!

2011-04-24T08:02:00.001-04:00

I know that my redeemer lives,

and that in the end he will stand on the earth.

And after my skin has been destroyed,

yet in my flesh I will see God;

I myself will see him

with my own eyes—I, and not another.

How my heart yearns within me!

~ Job 19:25-27~

Setback

2011-04-21T06:00:00.000-04:00

Here is a photo of my beautiful mom from this past summer at camping... relaxing and fiddling with her camera. Just in case you forgot how beautiful she is.

Mom started week three of an intensive five-week radiation treatment, and my dad sent the following email to the family yesterday evening:

Mom woke up this morning with a swollen arm, the one with the PIC line in it. She also had pain around the area of her feeding tube.

We went in at our appointed time for radiation and after that asked to see a nurse who in turn called a doctor who ordered yet another bloodtest. It showed that her calcium was very low while her potassium which was low two days ago was normal again

The long and the short of it is that we were brought to emergency for the doctors up there to have a look at things. We saw a doctor who declared that Mom had to be admitted so they can assess the situation and deal with it

I have no idea how long this will take and when she will be discharged again. This is a miserable setback. We had really been looking forward to the weekend: four days of no hospital

We will see what happens. Keep us in your prayers, please.

And so, dear readers, I'm seeking your prayers again for my parents as they walk this road. My family is so blessed to have each of you as part of the communion of saints, bring your pleas and petitions before the throne of grace.

Day To Day

2011-04-20T06:00:00.079-04:00

I'm standing at the kitchen counter scraping the last drops of honey from a measuring cup. They fall, sweet and amber, onto the oats and brown sugar. I lick the last of the honey off my finger and savour the moment. The house is quiet. I can almost feel the quiet relief of the man resting upstairs, a wee black cheetie purring nearby.

Outside rain is falling, hard and steady and silent, soaking the slick, greening grass. Somewhere in the downpour a bird is singing.

I wonder at that, as water rushes hot from the tap and soaks measuring cup and sticky finger. I scrub gently, adding soap and elbow grease to get it clean. Toweling my hands dry, I reach for a fork to stir the ingredients. These are sounds I know well: steel tine against steel, the rasping scratch of oat and sugar against smooth curve of bowl.

And outside, a bird is singing in the rain.

I wonder why he sings. I try to remember singing in the rain: some joyful, trilling song... some outflow of the heart's expression. I complain of rain and sleet and snow and hot, humid summers. An easy thing, complaining, and I think of that bird and wonder if song comes easy.

The oven beeps a quiet reminder as I add coconut and vanilla, stirring in slow, deliberate circles. I crush a coconut flake hard between my teeth, sweet and milky and nutty and I remember the birdsong this morning as I lay in bed, the world dark and quiet and the moon slipping quietly out of sight.

Birdsong at dawn...
Birdsong in falling rain...

I tear parchment paper and dump the contents of my bowl, using damp hands to tamp and spread and even. Pan in oven, and I notice a stray drop of honey glistening. Finger scrape, savour slowly, and the words of Psalm 19 surface in memory.

'Sweeter also than honey,
and drippings of the honeycomb...' (v. 10, RSV)

The only psalm memorized in senior high: one rejoicing in the revelation of God through creation and Word... the whispering and slurring of the Rock of Ages speaking so we can understand, and then, only dimly: truth and mystery and grace and mercy and love like no other.

'Day to day pours forth speech
and night to night declares knowledge...' (v. 2, RSV)

I realize then, that in rain and birdsong is truth and mystery... revelation and reminder that God is, that the great I AM is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

In rain... in the quiet near dark of dawn, in all things... God is.
His Word has revealed it, and His creation bears witness.

Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.

~John Greenleaf Whittier~

Rest

2011-04-19T06:00:00.028-04:00

I pick him up from work on a Friday afternoon. He moves towards the car, every line of his body etched with weariness. A slight shrug of his shoulder speaks volumes, and inwardly I kick myself for the late nights and early mornings of the past week...

As we merge onto the highway, I let the plans I had for the evening slip down between the seats and disappear while he chats quietly about his day, unwinding slowly after a long week.

I reach over and place a hand on his leg. He weaves his fingers through mine and gives a little squeeze.

He makes himself a fried egg sandwich when we get home, takes his pills, leans to kiss my forehead. He wants to apologize, feels guilty, believes he has disappointed me. I shake my head.

'Go. Rest,' I say.

He climbs the stair to bed. By 6:30 the house is quiet. I light some candles, flip open the laptop and catch up on old shows with a case report on my lap. There is no disappointment now: this is not new, and rest is important.

The wind is high, whining at the eaves and corners of the house. I wander through the house and lower blinds to block the stormy weather. I pause at the foot of the stairs and listen. For what? I'm not sure but I listen anyway... hoping, perhaps, to catch the sound of a contented snore.

In the morning, Sacha leaps onto the bed, narrowly missing my bladder. I grunt, and to my right I hear the muffled snort of a sleepy laugh. I crack open a reluctant eye. His eyes are closed, his features relaxed but for the smile that won my heart.

And in that moment I realize it's always, always worth it.

My Favourite Things: Monday

2011-04-18T06:00:00.031-04:00

Happy Monday, happy readers!

Would it be alright if we talked about sea monsters today? I hope so. I promise it won't be scary or nightmare-worthy. I'd just really love to share with you a sea monster that brings me a lot of joy.

I grew up on the west coast in beautiful British Columbia. Anyone who's grown up in that area is familiar in some way with the indigenous people who live in the Pacific Northwest Coast. These people are the Haida, and have influenced many artists of the area, most notably Emily Carr.

I remember a visit my father and I made to the Emily Carr exhibit at the Vancouver Art Gallery and falling in love with her stunning art.

This past February while I was in BC visiting my parents, my father came into the room holding a familiar object: a shallow canoe-shaped vessel into which has been carved a Haida sea monster. He offered it to me, and I gladly accepted, eager to take this piece of 'home' back to my home and find a place for it.

It has been on my living room table ever since, and oh, how I love it!

It's a little piece of my home province, and I love it!

Exciting Stuff!

2011-04-15T06:00:00.000-04:00

Do you remember how, not so long ago, I used to blog here pretty faithfully?

Then something called finals crept up on me, not to mention two other writing projects that have gone and consumed too much time. Something had to give, and unfortunately it was this wee bloggie. I'll be back soon, though... I promise! One more final, and I'm done school until September. (Insert much rejoicing here.)

However, today I am super excited to let the cat out of the bag on one of those projects... a blogging effort that we've been keeping under wraps until today!

Introducing... Held!

Go ahead! Click that button and pop on over!

I'm so thrilled to be a part of the team that pulled this blog together. The work has been time consuming and overwhelming at times, but it has been so amazing to see God pull this together for His glory.

And so, Held is opening its doors today... the real deal begins on April 25, and I hope you'll take a moment today to pop on over, look around, follow on Facebook or Twitter or Blogger!

Held is almost here! Have a milkshake... I promise it'll be worth it!