The Condition

"But there is only one condition. If you desire intimate union with God you must be willing to pay the price for it. The price is small enough. In fact, it is not even a price at all: it only seems to be so with us. We find it difficult to give up our desire for things that can never satisfy us in order to purchase the One Good in Whom is all our joy—and in Whom, moreover we get back everything else that we have renounced besides!

The fact remains that contemplation will not be given to those who wilfully remain at a distance from God, who confine their interior life to a few routine exercises of piety and a few external acts of worship and service performed as a matter of duty. Such people are careful to avoid sin. They respect God as a Master. But their heart does not belong to Him. They are not really interested in Him, except in order to insure themselves against losing heaven and going to hell. In actual practice, their minds and hearts are taken up with their own ambitions and troubles and comforts and pleasures and all their worldly interests and anxieties and fears. God is only invited to enter this charmed circle to smooth out difficulties and dispense rewards."

~Thomas Merton




This passage shakes me out of my complacent spiritual life. Am I willing to pay the price for intimacy with God? I utter a few perfunctuary prayers and quickly read a Bible passage before sleep. I grumble about having to go out of my way to help someone. I follow my list of rules, but don't seek a living relationship. I am wrapped up in myself: my problems, my needs, my goals, my desires. I live with worry and doubt and I am afraid of many things. I will only grow and thrive if I let go of things that can't satisfy and reach out for the wellspring of all joy, if I start to live in close communion with God and to live in true community with others who are my brothers and sisters.

I'm Accepted....

...into the Practical Nursing Program at Mohawk College for January 2010! I checked online today and noticed my acceptance status was Final Offer and confirmation deadline was listed as September 25, 2009. I was pretty sure this meant I was accepted, so I signed into Ontario Colleges, after figuring out my user name and password again, and found that I had one offer for admission for my one and only program choice. Somehow I had thought I would get a piece of mail telling me this, but that's not how it works. Without wasting anymore time, I confirmed the offer of admission. I am feeling relieved and happy that I'm accepted into my program. When I told my mom she suggested we celebrate somehow, so we went out to dinner this evening to East Side Mario's. Today I had taken a rare sick day, as I was feeling quite sick this morning. I felt quite a bit better by afternoon, and even better when I found out this exciting news.

I will have about two months left at Connon Nurseries, and I may be able to do Second Career when I start school in January. Before I start all my immunizations have to be up-to-date, and I need to get training in First Aid and CPR again. Now that I know I am accepted, I can think about moving out to a new place with one or more room-mates. So if any one in my rather limited readership knows of any possible places or room-mates for me to live with, I would appreciate hearing from you. I feel it would be good for me to be more independent, even if it is cheaper to live at home. That's one thing accomplished on my list so far. Only twenty-nine to go.

Spiritual Junk Food

As a young teenager, I could devour three books in one week, and I often was the first to take a new book out of the church library, especially if the title in question was in my favourite genre, the Christian Historical Romance. I was known to walk around the house with the book, reading while brushing my teeth or while making crackers and peanut-butter. At times I could be so lost in the world of the book, I would be completely oblivious to someone speaking to me from three feet away. My lap was a favourite of our cat's because I would sit so still for so long. I especially liked books with pictures of a beautiful young woman in period dress with a handsome young man in the background, the love interest who, if not already a Christian, would be drawn to God by the sheer beauty and sweetness of the woman who would resist his advances, but would inevitably share a passionate kiss with him half way through the book. The greater the attractiveness of the cover art, the more I liked the book. The books varied from poorly written with stock characters to fairly well-written with characters of some depth, but most were not of literary quality. I read them all as escapist literature, deriving added enjoyment from learning about the period they were set in.

an example of the type of cover I liked; not a book I have read



In high school, my English teacher introduced me to books like The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot, which I wrote a small piece on without much insight, and The Color Purple by Alice Walker, which I stopped reading after being morally offended by Celie's and Shug's relationship. As a teenager, I read some Jane Austen as well, but not for her novel's literary value, rather, for their elements of romance.
When I became an English major in university, in the early stages of my program, before acquiring discerning literary taste, I wondered why we could not study a book from a Christian contemporary author; something in the historical romance vein could be a welcome change from the standard literary classics or the less morally upstanding contemporary fiction. At the same time as I was gaining a sense of literary snobbery, I was also attending a church without a library, so I stopped reading the latest offerings in the Christian romance genre. I still bought every book that my favourite author Francine Rivers wrote, but I didn't even read a Karen Kingsbury book until one was given to me as a gift. My time for leisure reading was curtailed by all the short stories, plays, and novels I was required to read for my classes. Once in awhile I would browse through books in the Christian bookstore and see what was out there, remembering how fun reading books like that had once been for me.
I recently read some descriptions of Christian novels in a book club catalogue. Many of them were set in Amish country and were about young Amish widows getting a second chance at love, or beautiful, yet plainly attired, young Amish girls falling in love with outsiders and weighing the possibility of being shunned against their conflicted love. At the time, I wondered if I could immerse myself again in this type of fiction or if I had grown too far away from it. Now I wonder if the kind of books I used to enjoy were harmless escapism or were they the equivalent of spiritual junk food, fluffy bits of superficial spirituality that kept me from seeing the complexities of real life faith and relationships? Or was the problem more my way of reading them, as an escape from life? I realize all Christian novels are not mere superficial drivel or candy-coated spirituality, but often spiritual depth is missing and the fictional world lacks the moral ambiguities encountered in real life. Just because few objectionable moral things happen in a novel, does that make it a better book than a book like The Color Purple? Can you recommend any books by contemporary Christian authors that have depth and insight? The Shack comes to mind as a book that does not shy away from the pain of real life.

Thirty Things To Do Before I'm Thirty

Yesterday I entered my thirtieth year, and I celebrated my champagne birthday (I turned 29 on the twenty-ninth). After a day in St. Jacobs with my sister and her housemate, and before I turned in for the night, I spent some time pondering what I could write on my blog about my birthday or about the dreaded event to follow next year, when I will officially enter my thirties. Is turning thirty so bad? My theory is it doesn't have to be, provided you feel you have done everything in your twenties that you wanted to do. Some one who turns thirty, married with one kid and another on the way, established in a career, proud owner of their second home, may feel less panicked about this milestone than someone who is single, thinking about going back to school in order to get a career, and planning to move out of their parent's house. So I came up with the idea of writing a list of things I want to do in the next three hundred and sixty-four days, like a bucket list, except I am not planning on dying anytime soon. I don't foresee having two kids and a husband in that span of time, but there are some things that would be nice to do before I'm thirty.

• Successfully run for two kilometres without stopping. Take up running on a regular basis.
• Travel to a foreign country.
• Try downhill skiing for the first time.
• Take a pottery class.
• Be accepted into a program of study and/or start said program of study.
• Find a volunteer job.
• Become involved at the Meeting House.
• Intentionally develop a more active social life.
• Join a book club.
• Find a new place with a room-mate.
• Practice the spiritual disciplines and develop the fruit of the Spirit.
• Befriend a friendless person.
• Be able to write "in a relationship" on Facebook, truthfully.
• Go down the escarpment stairs and up again more than once.
• Develop a daily prayer life, and foster a close relationship with Christ.
• Become a full-fledged optimist.
• Go on a road trip.
• Lose the belly.
• Learn how to bake lemon meringue pie and cook a whole chicken.
• Write in a journal every week.
• Master basic sewing tasks.
• Learn how to barbecue.
• Go on an overnight canoe trip.
• Successfully perform ten consecutive push-ups.
• Eat a lobster.
• Play a tennis game.
• Take up roller-blading.
• Write my one-hundredth blog post.
• Buy a digital camera and learn to use it.
• Make a valiant attempt to keep a clean and tidy living space at all times.

Musings on Friendships

Friendships seem to ebb and flow, reshaping the shoreline of your relationships. Some friends fade out of the picture altogether, while others are in contact only briefly in the virtual world of Facebook or through a quick phone call. At this stage of my life I don't see any of my friends on a weekly basis. And I find I am at a much different place than most of my friends, which leaves us with less in common. I recently found out one of my married friends is pregnant and another friend is newly engaged. I am excited for them, but at the same time I realize our friendship will inevitably change as they enter a new stage of life, one from which I am excluded. And I admit I feel a slight pang of jealousy as I make comparisons between our different lives.

Sometimes I find myself brooding about one of my friendships. What is our friendship based on? Are we friends because years ago we had something in common and now we are just in some friendship holding pattern? Should we try to revitalize our relationship or is it time to let the friendship die a natural death?

I have always found the end of a friendship painful, no matter how it ends, whether a gradual fading out or an abrupt stop. I suppose I should just be grateful for the friendship that we had and remember our good times, but I usually focus on the regret that it is over and wonder how I could have preserved the friendship.

Facebook is good for getting in touch with people, but being a Facebook friend is a far cry from a genuine face-to-face friendship. I might know details about someone's life but that is different from sharing our lives.

I definitely could benefit from forming some new friendships and being more active socially. I suppose I could join a club or take up a new activity where I will meet other people. In September I plan to try joining a small group again at my church.

At least I have Great Hair!

This past week I heard the news that I didn't get into the accelerated nursing program at McMaster. Though not surprised at the result, I was still disappointed. I could take some comfort in the sentiment expressed in the old tired cliche "When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." With over three hundred and fifty applicants and only about thirty-five spots in the program, my chances of getting in were never that great. Now I have to decide whether to finish my second Chemistry course or not. To complete it I have to enrol in a $500 intensive two day laboratory course at McMaster next month. I am halfway through the Chemistry course, and the additional expense and effort no longer seem worth it. I for sure will complete my other Human Anatomy and Physiology course and the other Chemistry course and Psychology course I already completed are not a total waste of time since the first Chemistry course's excellent mark will help me towards getting into the Practical Nursing program at Mohawk and the Child and Adolescent Psychology course is likely similar to a required course in that program. I have applied to start that program in January, and am not sure when I will hear if I got in or not. In the meantime I can keep working at Connon Nurseries into the late fall. *Sigh*

But moving on to better news. My sister Rachel who recently completed her first year at McGill was one of fifty selected students to take the neuroscience program! Another step towards her future PhD :) My Mom is having a book launch for her recently published book Blooming: This Pilgrim's Progress. If you have not had the opportunity to read this excellent book of family life stories with an underlying spiritual theme tracking my mother's journey of faith, I encourage you to check out her blog by following the link Marian den Boer. Also tomorrow my sister Christina is getting baptized as a believer. Congratulations Christina on this important step in your spiritual journey!

And, as someone once comforted me, after I complained about the circumstances in my life, at least I have great hair! Yes just today I got my hair highlighted and cut, and I will now post a picture. As for my weight loss goals, so far I have only lost five pounds, but I have been walking two to four times a week. Unfortunately, I have also been snacking too much.

My beautiful hair

Eight Summers and Counting

If you told me as a student just finished her first year of university and starting a seasonal job at Connon Nurseries that nearly a decade later I would be beginning my eighth summer there, I wouldn't have believed you. If I did believe you could see this in my future, I would have probably have done some serious vocational planning and rethought my liberal arts degree in Honours English and Religion. In my second summer at Connons, I could not fathom why one older girl who had a business degree under her belt from Redeemer University College would be back working a general labour job.

After each year of school, I returned to Connon Nurseries for four months of repetitive, mindless manual labour, and after I graduated in 2005 and failed to find a job, I spent a fifth summer there, and worked into the fall before getting a receptionist job. What made the job were the people you worked with, other students mostly. Some summers were so much fun, and we had crew outings and filled the cutting room with laughter. Others were more dramatic with personality clashes or theological arguments that turned into personal conflicts. In the early spring we "pulled plugs", poking out the young plants with our sticks and trimming the roots with our pruning shears, with four of us going on the potting machine. We got to work with two Spanish ladies, Gloria, from Columbia, and the first year with Lilianna, also from Columbia, and every year after that with the diminutive Alma from El Salvador. They were a great team on the potting machine, and sat together in the cutting room in the summer months, filling their shared flat with expertly cut plants while conversing together in Spanish. They also taught us Spanish phrases and songs, and generally added colour and liveliness to the work environment. Another full-timer was Cheri who had worked there since 1990, knew much about plants and seemed to know everybody in the Dutch community, and was the designated waterer of flats. The first five summers our supervisor was Paul, or Paulito as Gloria called him, a short man of few words. Arie was the main supervisor, and other than my grandfather whose greenhouse I worked in during Spring Break growing up, he is the favourite of all the bosses I have had. He had a Dutch accent and a good humour, though he expected you to work hard and never place your elbows on the cutting room table.

I was a receptionist all winter into the spring and summer before leaving that position just as I was about to start living on my own. I soon found another job as an order desk clerk, a contract job that was flexible enough to allow me to pursue some Greek courses with the goal of going to graduate school the following year. These plans ended after I became ill and spent some weeks in the hospital. Arie phoned to see if my sister would be working in the summer, and when I answered the phone and he learned my job and health situation, offered me a job back at Connon Nurseries. I accepted and following another health set-back returned for a sixth summer, telling myself it was temporary until I regained my footing and found something else, and worked into the fall before beginning another receptionist job. But I was back for a seventh summer and third fall season, and now an eighth summer. While I am now taking correspondence courses with the goal of getting into a nursing program, I cannot rule out the possibility of a fourth fall or even a ninth summer should I be accepted into the practical nursing program and not the accelerated nursing program at McMaster, which is extremely competitive.

While I sometimes am embarrassed to admit I still work at Connon Nurseries after obtaining a bachelors degree, I will readily attest that Connon Nurseries has been good to me, and most of the countless hours I have spent there have been relatively happy ones. There is something about repetitive, mindless labour that is soothing and the camaraderie with coworkers has usually enlivened the monotony of endless pulling of plugs or cutting of plants. And while I hope that in nine years, I will be busy with a career in nursing and taking care of a family, I think I will always be slightly sentimental about the nurturing of young plants and the smell of potting soil.