Yesterday morning, as I was making breakfast, an Amy Grant song came into my head. I proceeded to sing it to James, who missed out on the gloriousness of cheesy Christian music in his adolescence. I then proceeded to dig up the tape and blare it through the house while I went through my morning routine. James proceeded outside to cut the grass where he would not have to endure my 80's Christian pop, complete with amazing drum machine beats, great synthesizers and a smattering of sickening cliches. Good times were had by all. Or just me.
By the end of the first side of the tape (hahahaha...tapes...with sides...so oldschool), I noticed a definite them of identity, and finding our identity in Christ and who he has made us, rather than in striving to be what we think we should be, or what others think we should be. Here's the lyrics to one of the songs that jumped out to me:
All I Ever Have to Be
When the weight of all my dreams
Is resting heavy on my head,
And the thoughtful words of health and hope
Have all been nicely said.
But Im still hurting,
Wondering if Ill ever be
The one I think I am.
I think I am.
Then you gently re-remind me
That you've made me from the first,
And the more I try to be the best
The more I get the worst.
And I realize the good in me,
Is only there because of who you are.
Who you are...
And all I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Any more or less would be a step
Out of your plan.
As you daily recreate me,
Help me always keep in mind
That I only have to do
What I can find.
And all I ever have to be
All I have to be
All I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
A good reminder for me, as someone who has always struggled with seeking affirmation by being "good enough". It reminded me of a Henri Nouwen book I have been reading lately, The Return of the Prodigal Son (an excellent, excellent, excellent book - I highly recommend it). The book came out of Nouwen's meditations on the parable as depicted in a Rembrandt painting, in which the Father's arms lovingly embrace the returned son. In Chapter 2, Nouwen talks about the fact that a return implies that there was a previous leaving (34). He discusses how the son rejects his identity and goes looking for meaning and importance elsewhere, and says that we too are prodigals when we look for value and meaning outside of the embrace of our father.
I leave home every time I lose fiath in the voice that calls me the Beloved and follow the voices that offer a great variety of ways to win the love I so much desire. (40)
As long as I keep running about asking: "Do you love me? Do you really love me?" I give all the power to the voices of the world and put myself in bondage because the world is filled with "ifs." The world says: "Yes, I love you if you are good-looking, intelligent, and wealthy. I love you if you have a good education, a good job, and good connections. I love you if you produce much, sell much and buy much. There are endless "ifs" hidden in the world's love. These "ifs" enslave me, since it is impossible to respond adequately to all of them. (42)
Nouwen concludes saying
I am the prodigal son every time I search for unconditional love where it cannot be found. Why do I keep ignoring the place of true love and persist in looking for it elsewhere? Why do I keep leaving home where I am called a child of God, the Beloved of my Father? (43)
Why do I keep searching for unconditional love where it cannot be found? Why do I try to be things other than what he made me? I'm sure there are a multiplicity of complex factors, but there is one that really jumps out to me.
I have to be close enough to hear the voice of the Father telling me that I am the Beloved. I have to be still enough to allow him to embrace me. When I don't take the time to still myself, to settle into his embrace and listen to his voice, I am far more vulnerable to the voices around me that say "I love you if....", rather than the only voice that matters, that simply says "I love you." And once I have heard, and allow myself to believe, that I am loved, I can simply be, without striving. Now THAT is freedom!
(Stopping is counter-intuitive, especially in a culture that so values productivity, and beauty. I have to confess that, although I tell myself that of the things I need to do in the morning being in the presence of God is the most important, it usually comes after I've spent time in the mirror, and after I've tidied the house, and then I often don't have time. Perhaps more time with God first would make the other two matter less? My personal challenge in this area.)
Friday, August 28
Tuesday, August 18
August Anticipation
Haven't blogged in awhile, and while I don't have anything particularly thought provoking or meaningful, I figured it was good time for an update.
So, we bought a bigger house. Woohoo! The deal was all finalized today, and we get the house in less than a month - September 16. I am SO looking forward to more space. 3 bed, 2 bath, finished basement - bring it! Of course, it comes with the need to sell our house (I know, we do things a little backward), and move, which I'm not loving, but, the result will be worth it. This week is devoted to all the little touch-ups our place needs to be market-ready. The only frustrating thing is that being pregnant and all, I'm not much help with heavy lifting, or painting, or seemingly any of the things that need to get done, or will need to be done in the new place before we move in (it needs some serious updating, unless you love pink EVERYWHERE, which I don't. Upside - NO wallpaper ANYWHERE!)
Pregnancy is going great - I feel awesome, and am finally looking pregnant, and not like I just ate too much Christmas dinner as one friend said. I'm 24 weeks along - only 16ish to go, which is kind of soon, believe it or not. Christmas SOUNDS far away, but...when you say that between now and then you're going to pack up house, move, update new house, prepare to welcome a new life, and give birth before then, trust me, it seems like it's just around the corner. I'm getting pretty excited though. Wee Wallace is starting to move a lot, although, husband Wallace can't seem to feel it much yet.
Tonight I enjoyed being domestic. I spent some time freezing the abundance of blueberries and home-grown beans nana gave us this weekend, as well as baking some zucchini brownies to use up some of the never-ending zucchini supply coming from the garden. It was nice just to be in the kitchen and putter away. I'm a fan of being domestic (did I mention the summer kitchen set up in my basement and the large cold storage room full of mason jars and stock pots that we included in our deal?). Definitely looking forward to doing more gardening, cooking, and preserving when I'm home with the baby next year.
So, we bought a bigger house. Woohoo! The deal was all finalized today, and we get the house in less than a month - September 16. I am SO looking forward to more space. 3 bed, 2 bath, finished basement - bring it! Of course, it comes with the need to sell our house (I know, we do things a little backward), and move, which I'm not loving, but, the result will be worth it. This week is devoted to all the little touch-ups our place needs to be market-ready. The only frustrating thing is that being pregnant and all, I'm not much help with heavy lifting, or painting, or seemingly any of the things that need to get done, or will need to be done in the new place before we move in (it needs some serious updating, unless you love pink EVERYWHERE, which I don't. Upside - NO wallpaper ANYWHERE!)
Pregnancy is going great - I feel awesome, and am finally looking pregnant, and not like I just ate too much Christmas dinner as one friend said. I'm 24 weeks along - only 16ish to go, which is kind of soon, believe it or not. Christmas SOUNDS far away, but...when you say that between now and then you're going to pack up house, move, update new house, prepare to welcome a new life, and give birth before then, trust me, it seems like it's just around the corner. I'm getting pretty excited though. Wee Wallace is starting to move a lot, although, husband Wallace can't seem to feel it much yet.
Tonight I enjoyed being domestic. I spent some time freezing the abundance of blueberries and home-grown beans nana gave us this weekend, as well as baking some zucchini brownies to use up some of the never-ending zucchini supply coming from the garden. It was nice just to be in the kitchen and putter away. I'm a fan of being domestic (did I mention the summer kitchen set up in my basement and the large cold storage room full of mason jars and stock pots that we included in our deal?). Definitely looking forward to doing more gardening, cooking, and preserving when I'm home with the baby next year.
Tuesday, July 28
Positively NOT Pollyana (or: My Husband Could Have a Street Named After Him in Quebec)
So. Last week James and I went to Quebec for a little holiday. We drove there all day Monday, spent Tues-Thurs there, and drove home Friday. It was lovely. Quebec City is gorgeous, and one could walk for hours down the quaint and picturesque streets admiring the beautiful buildings and stores packed with expensive pretty things. We had three days in which to do this, which is not long. The problem is, you can only do so much walking without becoming exhausted, especially when pregnant and prone to bad headaches which are aggravated by bright/hot sun which July seems to offer (albeit very infrequently, this July).
Now. I used to think, when I was a teenager, that I could handle any affliction. I had naive visions of being diagnosed with a fatal illness, and with my incredible combination of positivity and reliance on God, I would wow the world with my upbeat attitude and strength through what would obviously have been an incredibly trying experience (likely ending in death, which would've made them all that much sadder, because I had been such a picture of grace throughout the experience).
A few years later, having watched some loved ones experience hardship, with a better understanding of myself (believe it or not, I am not perfect - although this was hard to come to grips with), and having walked around Quebec city in the sun, I can tell you I am not actually all that gracious when I am in discomfort. In fact, I am down right awful.
Tuesday morning we got up, hit the road, wandered through the Plains of Abraham, Chateau Frontenac, and some ruins of the basement of a castle that burnt down. And then it was noonish. And we hadn't decided where to go for lunch. And I needed to eat 20 minutes ago. And I had a headache. And I was becoming increasingly irritable...And obviously we dropped everything and got to a restaurant, pronto.
Wednesday we slept in, which I felt guilty about, but in retrospect was a good choice, and we didn't really get out to do much until early afternoon, which was also good, 'cause who can really walk for that long and still enjoy all the pretty things? Apparently not me. (Plus, it rained until like, 3:00 anyway). Wednesday was a good day, because of my newfound awareness for needing to plan meals ahead of time, and our lack of packing the day too full.
Thursday. Ah Thursday. We started slow again, as we had felt that Wednesday was a successful mix of rest and sight-seeing. And then, I...I don't know what. Something happened to me. I couldn't seem to motivate myself to move. I didn't know what to do. I was laughing and crying at the same time (at my ridiculousness), and my poor husband was lost for words). Eventually (like, very eventually - maybe 1:00?) we decided we would drive the 30 minutes to check out St. Anne's Canyon. The website said they had a restaurant, so we decided we would have our big meal there for lunch, then wander around the canyon, then come back for a quick bite before the Cirque du Soleil show we had scheduled for the evening.
So we drove to St. Anne-de-Beupres. I slept the whole time, after sleeping the whole morning. We found the Canyon, after first going to the ski hill. We parked, I tried to wake up (of course, feeling kinda nauseous and headachy). We walked to the "restaurant." We discovered pre-made yucky looking sandwiches, offered with an old pot of soup. I had another meltdown. We left looking for a decent restaurant. We went to 3 greasy burger joints before finding a beautiful gourmet sandwich cafe. We ate delicious sandwiches on a lovely patio. It was too late to return to St. Anne's Canyon, so we drove back to Quebec. I effectively ruined a whole day (after driving James nuts earlier in the week telling him we must use every moment wisely 'cause we're only here for THREE days!).
And this is where we get to the topic of street naming in Quebec. Almost every street is Rue Saint Someone-or-Other. I'm not sure it is really possible to have that many saints, but, seeing as the title seems to be given out so freely, I'd like to nominate my husband. Somewhere in Quebec city, near where I had one of my "I need to eat half-an-hour ago!" whiny ridiculous meltdowns, there should be a Rue Saint James. I was no picnic to travel with, and he was incredibly patient and gracious, and aside from one very calm conversation in which he told me I was being frustrating, you'd think I was the perfect travel partner by the ways he responded to me. I wasn't, trust me. He, on the other hand, may just be a saint.
Now. I used to think, when I was a teenager, that I could handle any affliction. I had naive visions of being diagnosed with a fatal illness, and with my incredible combination of positivity and reliance on God, I would wow the world with my upbeat attitude and strength through what would obviously have been an incredibly trying experience (likely ending in death, which would've made them all that much sadder, because I had been such a picture of grace throughout the experience).
A few years later, having watched some loved ones experience hardship, with a better understanding of myself (believe it or not, I am not perfect - although this was hard to come to grips with), and having walked around Quebec city in the sun, I can tell you I am not actually all that gracious when I am in discomfort. In fact, I am down right awful.
Tuesday morning we got up, hit the road, wandered through the Plains of Abraham, Chateau Frontenac, and some ruins of the basement of a castle that burnt down. And then it was noonish. And we hadn't decided where to go for lunch. And I needed to eat 20 minutes ago. And I had a headache. And I was becoming increasingly irritable...And obviously we dropped everything and got to a restaurant, pronto.
Wednesday we slept in, which I felt guilty about, but in retrospect was a good choice, and we didn't really get out to do much until early afternoon, which was also good, 'cause who can really walk for that long and still enjoy all the pretty things? Apparently not me. (Plus, it rained until like, 3:00 anyway). Wednesday was a good day, because of my newfound awareness for needing to plan meals ahead of time, and our lack of packing the day too full.
Thursday. Ah Thursday. We started slow again, as we had felt that Wednesday was a successful mix of rest and sight-seeing. And then, I...I don't know what. Something happened to me. I couldn't seem to motivate myself to move. I didn't know what to do. I was laughing and crying at the same time (at my ridiculousness), and my poor husband was lost for words). Eventually (like, very eventually - maybe 1:00?) we decided we would drive the 30 minutes to check out St. Anne's Canyon. The website said they had a restaurant, so we decided we would have our big meal there for lunch, then wander around the canyon, then come back for a quick bite before the Cirque du Soleil show we had scheduled for the evening.
So we drove to St. Anne-de-Beupres. I slept the whole time, after sleeping the whole morning. We found the Canyon, after first going to the ski hill. We parked, I tried to wake up (of course, feeling kinda nauseous and headachy). We walked to the "restaurant." We discovered pre-made yucky looking sandwiches, offered with an old pot of soup. I had another meltdown. We left looking for a decent restaurant. We went to 3 greasy burger joints before finding a beautiful gourmet sandwich cafe. We ate delicious sandwiches on a lovely patio. It was too late to return to St. Anne's Canyon, so we drove back to Quebec. I effectively ruined a whole day (after driving James nuts earlier in the week telling him we must use every moment wisely 'cause we're only here for THREE days!).
And this is where we get to the topic of street naming in Quebec. Almost every street is Rue Saint Someone-or-Other. I'm not sure it is really possible to have that many saints, but, seeing as the title seems to be given out so freely, I'd like to nominate my husband. Somewhere in Quebec city, near where I had one of my "I need to eat half-an-hour ago!" whiny ridiculous meltdowns, there should be a Rue Saint James. I was no picnic to travel with, and he was incredibly patient and gracious, and aside from one very calm conversation in which he told me I was being frustrating, you'd think I was the perfect travel partner by the ways he responded to me. I wasn't, trust me. He, on the other hand, may just be a saint.
Tuesday, July 7
Some Little Thinks, July ed.
Newsflash: It's July. This is a very good thing. Mostly, because it means June is over, and June was madness. I am enjoying reclaiming my time and space from the overcommittedness that was June. I also got a new day book that started in July, and it has been a good good thing. I have been spending much of my adult life searching for the perfect daybook, and I just may have found it. It has both a month at a glance calendar, and a weekly lay out that has 1/2 hour time slots for each day of the week. Which I have actually been using, and this means that I am actually exercising, actually praying, actually eating a meal with my husband, actually cleaning my house, actually meeting friends at times that make sense and not just because they called me up and I felt guilty. Actually enjoying my life. It's gooooood.
Also good? I met my midwife today, FINALLY!, and she's great, and I think we're a good match. There's something about walking in to a room and facing another freckled red-headed, glasses wearing, orange wearing free-spirited person nursing a baby in a sling that makes you think "We just might have something in common" (even if it's all externalities). I definitely felt most comfortable with her compared to the other midwives who did my earlier appointments, so that's good. Perhaps it's just the knowledge that she will actually be my midwife, and not just a fill-in that made me more comfortable, but, either way, I was happy, and that is good.
Baby is also good. I have not gained any weight, and am hardly showing which I was a bit concerned about, but, she said not to worry, so, I'll try not to. I heard the heartbeat again, it's a healthy 145 beats per minute, and she seemed pleased with everything, so that's good. Next up - ultrasound! 3 weeks away. Looking forward to it!
Another good thing? Our house. It's clean. And organized. And almost ready to sell, which is relieving, considering I'd like to be moved and settled before I am massively pregnant, and getting the house ready to sell is one step closer to that. A few minor repairs/painting, and we'll be ready to put the sign up. And hopefully find a new house soonish.
Finally, I leave you with a website recommendation. simplemom.net It's brilliant. It's a blog/website with advice on home management and family and other good stuff. They've just started a "back to basics" of home management series which I'm really excited about. It's just full of practical good stuff that makes you feel good, and the main editor is a Christian, which is also neat. Check it!
Also good? I met my midwife today, FINALLY!, and she's great, and I think we're a good match. There's something about walking in to a room and facing another freckled red-headed, glasses wearing, orange wearing free-spirited person nursing a baby in a sling that makes you think "We just might have something in common" (even if it's all externalities). I definitely felt most comfortable with her compared to the other midwives who did my earlier appointments, so that's good. Perhaps it's just the knowledge that she will actually be my midwife, and not just a fill-in that made me more comfortable, but, either way, I was happy, and that is good.
Baby is also good. I have not gained any weight, and am hardly showing which I was a bit concerned about, but, she said not to worry, so, I'll try not to. I heard the heartbeat again, it's a healthy 145 beats per minute, and she seemed pleased with everything, so that's good. Next up - ultrasound! 3 weeks away. Looking forward to it!
Another good thing? Our house. It's clean. And organized. And almost ready to sell, which is relieving, considering I'd like to be moved and settled before I am massively pregnant, and getting the house ready to sell is one step closer to that. A few minor repairs/painting, and we'll be ready to put the sign up. And hopefully find a new house soonish.
Finally, I leave you with a website recommendation. simplemom.net It's brilliant. It's a blog/website with advice on home management and family and other good stuff. They've just started a "back to basics" of home management series which I'm really excited about. It's just full of practical good stuff that makes you feel good, and the main editor is a Christian, which is also neat. Check it!
Monday, June 15
A Great Grandma
My Nana Giesz died last week. She had a stroke early Wednesday morning, and by the end of the day, she was gone. The events of that day, and the days that followed, culminating in her funeral on Saturday afternoon, have left me with much to think about.
Nana was in the beginning stages of dimensia, and struggled with lung disease. While her death was sudden and upsetting, there were difficult roads ahead that she didn't have to travel, and I am grateful for that.
Nana's funeral and visitation were also incredible reminders of the impact that a simply-lived life of love has on people. There were probably 200+ people packed into her tiny country church, a testimony to how well loved Nana was. Nana didn't have many accomplishments that would be considered great successes in the eyes of the world. What she did have were the firmest, longest hugs, and she would pull back and look at you with tears in her eyes, hardly able to whisper "I love you" because she was so moved by that love. She would make your favourite pie just because she overheard you saying you loved it last time she saw you. She loved so many, so well. I hope she knew in life how loved she was, as I saw this weekend as person after person with tears in their eyes reminded me what a good grandma I had.
I have never lost anyone close to me before. The suddenness of Nana's death has reminded me of the importance of living with intentionality. The day before she died, I was driving home from work in Kitchener, and thinking that I should call Nana. I hadn't seen or spoken with her in a long time, at least 3-4 months, and hadn't yet shared with her that I was expecting her first great-grandchild, news which would have brought her great joy. The regret and guilt I feel over that lost opportunity are feelings I don't expect to dissipate quickly or easily. Those feelings are also motivators to not be put in a position again where I will regret missed opportunities or feel guilty about time poorly spent. I am going to spend some time this week considering who and what is most important to me, and to adjust my calendar to reflect that. Nana, although perhaps not knowing it, was to be, but always had been, a great grandma. I don't want to lose anyone else without knowing for sure that they knew of their great importance to me.
Love you Nana. We'll miss you.
Tuesday, June 9
Wowee-wow-wow!
(disclaimer: this is not about Big Thinks, this is very much about the mundane every day interests of my life in the past week or so)
I am sitting in my living room, which happens way too rarely. I just happened to look out the window and noticed that my neighbours have a leather-looking couch and chair sitting on the second floor balcony of their 100 year old brick house. Only here.
It has been a whirlwind of a couple of weeks! I am tired, and get more tired as I look at my calendar. Holy cow!
So, have you heard the news? I assume by now most people have, but, am surprised every now and then when someone I'm sure would've heard through the grapevine says "What!? You're pregnant!?" (sidenote - I learned via my friends at the CBC this past week that !? is an actual form of punctuation - it's called an "interabang." Which makes me think that maybe the question mark should go first, followed by the "bang", but I don't like how that looks. I have also learned in the past week or so that I have this great way of trying to slip that information about my pregnancy into random conversations that are not really related and then try to move on before people have been able to absorb what the info I absorbed 14 weeks ago). So yes, I am pregnant. We found out just before Easter (which seems like AGES ago, and, P.S., that's a long time to keep something so exciting a secret), and the wee one is due December 8th. James is thrilled to be expecting a baby so close to Christmas, considering we have in our combined families 2 October birthdays, a November one, then 3 in the first week of January. Oh well. First trimester went great, no concerns at all, and we are pumped to be parents!
I graduated on Friday afternoon from Wiflrid Laurier University with an Honours Bachelor of Arts in English and Global Studies with Distinction on Friday afternoon. Glad to be officially done! (I need to remember to take the diploma out of the backseat of the car, and maybe, like, frame it). We headed straight from convocation to a church leaders' retreat for the weekend.
As we were trying to navigate the crazy traffic into the convocation ceremony, I got a call saying that I got a job I had applied for within Christian Horizons. Along with my hours at the group home, I am now a part-time instructor in our training department, which I am really excited about. I just got home from two days of train-the-trainer training, and am looking forward to (read - petrified by kind of excited about) actually teaching.
So that's my past week. This week James and I are heading to Toronto for the annual Assembly for our denomation, which will be both exciting, boring at times, and great to connect with people. And reminds me that I need to find a dog sitter AGAIN. Twice in one week is a bit much. Oy.
So, while all of these things combined is EXHAUSTING, they're all pretty great. It's a pretty exciting time to be me. I feel like the tripple-whammy of graduating-pregnancy-new job is like "Hello. You're a grown-up."
Except...somehow grown-ups keep their house tidy, and cook/eat healthy meals. I haven't yet figured out how that works when both the grown-ups in the house are working 10+ hour days and come home tired. I think the ones that can afford it hire a house keeper and get take-out, but, that doesn't work for us. Any suggestions?
I am sitting in my living room, which happens way too rarely. I just happened to look out the window and noticed that my neighbours have a leather-looking couch and chair sitting on the second floor balcony of their 100 year old brick house. Only here.
It has been a whirlwind of a couple of weeks! I am tired, and get more tired as I look at my calendar. Holy cow!
So, have you heard the news? I assume by now most people have, but, am surprised every now and then when someone I'm sure would've heard through the grapevine says "What!? You're pregnant!?" (sidenote - I learned via my friends at the CBC this past week that !? is an actual form of punctuation - it's called an "interabang." Which makes me think that maybe the question mark should go first, followed by the "bang", but I don't like how that looks. I have also learned in the past week or so that I have this great way of trying to slip that information about my pregnancy into random conversations that are not really related and then try to move on before people have been able to absorb what the info I absorbed 14 weeks ago). So yes, I am pregnant. We found out just before Easter (which seems like AGES ago, and, P.S., that's a long time to keep something so exciting a secret), and the wee one is due December 8th. James is thrilled to be expecting a baby so close to Christmas, considering we have in our combined families 2 October birthdays, a November one, then 3 in the first week of January. Oh well. First trimester went great, no concerns at all, and we are pumped to be parents!
I graduated on Friday afternoon from Wiflrid Laurier University with an Honours Bachelor of Arts in English and Global Studies with Distinction on Friday afternoon. Glad to be officially done! (I need to remember to take the diploma out of the backseat of the car, and maybe, like, frame it). We headed straight from convocation to a church leaders' retreat for the weekend.
As we were trying to navigate the crazy traffic into the convocation ceremony, I got a call saying that I got a job I had applied for within Christian Horizons. Along with my hours at the group home, I am now a part-time instructor in our training department, which I am really excited about. I just got home from two days of train-the-trainer training, and am looking forward to (read - petrified by kind of excited about) actually teaching.
So that's my past week. This week James and I are heading to Toronto for the annual Assembly for our denomation, which will be both exciting, boring at times, and great to connect with people. And reminds me that I need to find a dog sitter AGAIN. Twice in one week is a bit much. Oy.
So, while all of these things combined is EXHAUSTING, they're all pretty great. It's a pretty exciting time to be me. I feel like the tripple-whammy of graduating-pregnancy-new job is like "Hello. You're a grown-up."
Except...somehow grown-ups keep their house tidy, and cook/eat healthy meals. I haven't yet figured out how that works when both the grown-ups in the house are working 10+ hour days and come home tired. I think the ones that can afford it hire a house keeper and get take-out, but, that doesn't work for us. Any suggestions?
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