Enjoying the Lord's Table

I really appreciate the fellowship of the breaking of the bread, and the drinking of the cup in a way that is totally new to me. I can sing a song and not worry if I am out of tune. I can bring my heart before God, and I can approach the throne of grace with freedom and confidence. God is doing a new thing in my life, and I am starting to expect more and more of God's abundant grace. He has opened the windows of heaven and is pouring out a blessing. It is a like a shower or a waterfall and it comes with pain sometimes but it also comes with joy!

Life is not easy, but Jesus never promised an easy road. He said to take up your cross and follow him. We have to die and then we come alive again. Every one's path is different, but no road leading past the cross is an easy one. I am one of those he endured the cross to redeem and it was a high price, but he said "It is finished." So every thing and person he went on the cross to redeem can be redeemed, healed, filled, and made to live as a new creation. Because He lives, we can live!

Um, I can't get a word in edge-wise...

Picture this: My friend and I are sitting in Starbucks with our decaffeinated drinks and suddenly it dawns on me I have been talking almost non-stop for more than thirty minutes! My friend's first language is Russian and she just couldn't compete with my flood of verbiage... She was, however, a good listener, but really what choice did she even have? Thankfully before this I had been asking her questions about her summer, her studies, and her son's wedding and we had walked together along the Bayfront... Still next time I should realize a little sooner that she had been confined to short interjections for a long time, and really she is a much more fascinating person than myself, so I would do much better to listen to her!

An Extra Extra Long Weekend

This holiday weekend is called "George Hamilton Day" in this neck of the woods, and for me this weekend lasts nearly a week, or six sleeps. On Saturday I am visiting with relatives and Dutch cousins, and on Friday I am going out for coffee with a friend and the Friday after that I am celebrating with my Connon coworkers bound together by the love of Cornelius and the ties of sisterly affection.

We are so happy that one of us has a job in her field of study, another of us, namely me, is holding onto part-time nursing studies, two of us are learning how to drive, and one of us is about to ace her McGill exams. Cornelius is the only unhappy one, because he is just underworked lately without the need for an hour or more of driving every week day.

Bidding Connons farewell is bittersweet, but mainly sweet... I'd say it is like 45% cocoa chocolate. The steady pay-cheque is the most missed aspect, and next are the people I worked with for years and my second favourite boss I have had in all my employment history... he is second to my late grandfather who had us grandchildren old enough to be out of diapers over every March Break to work in his greenhouse, until his health compelled him to move to a property that required less upkeep. We earned $100 each, and had long breaks which included orange juice and cookies, a lunch break of at least an hour with a three course meal sometimes including the grandchildren's very favourite of hamburger noodlebake, and a quitting time of whenever we felt like it. Plus we got day trips and outings to the used book store. By the way I have also worked part-time for my father, and I don't think he or I could handle working as father and daughter in the same office!

This extra extra long weekend will be spent chilling, swimming, cooking, baking, studying about computers, and finishing my biology homework. I have to register for my courses on Tuesday afternoon after 1500. I might pick up my crocheting project again, or study a map of Ontario with great intensity and interest. I wonder if I can fit in a visit to a beautiful beach?

The image is of moi at the end of our time at Doe Lake. I think I look all of my twenty-nine years, by which I mean I don't think this picture is flattering! I just like the background!

A Lovely Evening and a Beautiful Day!

I enjoyed a ladies get together at the home of a member of my small group. I love these ladies, even though I am not well acquainted with all of them. There are some my parent's age, and older, some in their forties with grown kids, some in their thirties with kids, some in their younger twenties with husbands, and some single and in their twenties. The setting was perfect with beautiful gardens and a pool. The appetizers alone were spectacular, the drinks were wonderful, the main dinner was delectable, the dessert was exquisite, but most importantly the fellowship was amazing. I was only slightly disappointed only four of us decided to go in the pool... it was one of those kidney shaped pools surrounded by flowers and gardens, and of course the water was warm.

When I arrived home I had a delightful time with my sister and her best friend who was sleeping over. I love this woman's sense of humour and I consider her my fifth sister... not that I need more sisters I just consider her family. We were rather noisy and boisterous, but they say that laughter is the best medicine...

I had a good rest and now I am meeting a friend for lunch at noon... a meeting that is highly anticipated and should be wonderful. Maybe I can buckle down to some studying before then... I am not holding my breath!

Risky Business

I think it is appropriate with Katie Holmes in the area shooting a movie on JKO that we watch a classic movie starring Tom Cruise. No actual risky business is being attempted, never fear... My dad is a professional, after all, in his field of accounting, and the rest of us are over 13 and under sixty, therefore this classic should be entirely age-appropriate and completely non-shocking to our tender sensitivities. A report shall follow about how many of us stick with the movie until the final scene...

My Abrasive Attitude

Sometimes I can be much like sand-paper... you wouldn't want to get too close or I may attempt to tear off a strip of your thin veneer. I can be extremely hard to live with as my family can attest to. My mom says you can't blame bad behaviour on the time of month, how hungry you are at the time, how rude you perceive someone else as being towards you, the stress of your day, or even on the fact you are recovering from an illness.

Actually I have a lot of excuses, rationalizations, and defences, so much so that the slightest perceived criticism can set off a fire-storm. When the dust settles, I realize the only person with the problem with communication and conciliation is myself and I usually apologize and/or cry.

Yeah it's tough sometimes to be me... I have high standards for myself and I don't always achieve them. Or I achieve them, and then the next thing I do is incredibly mean or hostile or accusatory. Paul put it well when he asked "Who will rescue me from this body of death?"

I guess I don't have to be perfect; I just have to be willing to be perfected. Still I wish I was a consistently nice person, even when others insult me or put me down or laugh at me. I let myself down all the time, and it gets discouraging when you think you are just going around the same mountain for the hundredth time and feel no closer to the summit or farther away from the foothills. I want to be kinder to my long-suffering family, and not to always have to prove that I am right in every difference of opinion.

"Insights" from my Solitary Rambles

I visited a Shopper's today and saw the new frontier of Beauty Products including anti-perspirant for men. Sorry men, but anti-perspirant made with aluminum isn't even a good idea for women. It is unhealthy to suppress a natural process like perspiration. In about ten to twenty years if current trends continue we can probably expect to reap the consequences of more breast cancer cases in men. Also I have heard that men's sweat is supposed to be some kind of hormonal turn-on, but maybe the women are just happy someone else is out there working in the hot sun.

I was very proud to walk out of the store with only two products, only one of which I didn't need.

I also walked down the Mountain, along the rail trail and back along Lavender Drive, which ended up taking over two hours... I wished I had taken along some money, when I passed Tim Hortons and a grocery store. At least I brought along my canteen of water. It was another twenty-five minutes home from there. I saw some gorgeous blooms and beautifully appointed gardens. Now I am very tired...

Along the way I wondered if money or love had built a beautiful stone house, decided that driving in a pick up truck with other guys drops a guy's IQ by a good fifty points and additional five points for every guy who is with him, and speculated about why graffiti artists are so non-creative. I mean if you want to deface a stone rock face that has been around for longer than this has been the country of Canada shouldn't you use a beautiful image or at least a word that shows you have an ounce of creativity in your bones... I mean not a profanity or obscenity and not a message of hatred.

I concluded my walk by rehydrating and eating something salty. Now I have start thinking about getting some school work done today, and what I will eat for supper. Thankfully I am not hungry yet, but I am thinking about the difference between being discerning and being judgemental.

Hope Does Not Disappoint

Hebrews 10:22-39
The Message Paraphrase

22-25So let's do it—full of belief, confident that we're presentable inside and out. Let's keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let's see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.

26-31If we give up and turn our backs on all we've learned, all we've been given, all the truth we now know, we repudiate Christ's sacrifice and are left on our own to face the Judgment—and a mighty fierce judgment it will be! If the penalty for breaking the law of Moses is physical death, what do you think will happen if you turn on God's Son, spit on the sacrifice that made you whole, and insult this most gracious Spirit? This is no light matter. God has warned us that he'll hold us to account and make us pay. He was quite explicit: "Vengeance is mine, and I won't overlook a thing" and "God will judge his people." Nobody's getting by with anything, believe me.

32-39Remember those early days after you first saw the light? Those were the hard times! Kicked around in public, targets of every kind of abuse—some days it was you, other days your friends. If some friends went to prison, you stuck by them. If some enemies broke in and seized your goods, you let them go with a smile, knowing they couldn't touch your real treasure. Nothing they did bothered you, nothing set you back. So don't throw it all away now. You were sure of yourselves then. It's still a sure thing! But you need to stick it out, staying with God's plan so you'll be there for the promised completion.

It won't be long now, he's on the way;
he'll show up most any minute.
But anyone who is right with me thrives on loyal trust;
if he cuts and runs, I won't be very happy.
But we're not quitters who lose out. Oh, no! We'll stay with it and survive, trusting all the way.

The Message (MSG)
Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson

My Exciting Friday night

My family has gone to my sister's soccer match, and I await their return so that we can watch the movie "Invictus" featuring two of my favourite actors. It is based on a fascinating true story about Nelson Mandela post-Apartheid and a sports team made of South African players, both black and white and all shades in between.

The Joy of Family

I don't think people who have never had a sibling (or five siblings, as in my case, ranging in age from lower 30s to 13) quite understand the joy of family. When I was sixteen some people (complete strangers) thought I was my little sister's mother and this continued until she was around two years old. She was very energetic and after my work week was over on Friday morning, she would accompany to the mall, making quick little steps with her small legs, and later we would play at the park for awhile, but never long enough to suit her... I sometimes just had to walk away to get her to follow.

My next youngest sister used to go with me to Biway and get little outfits; she claims this has made her materialistic, but I just don't see it. Even at five, I was trying to be a mother to my next youngest sister.

But the fact is I have four sisters, and one much persecuted brother and they are of different generations. I love all of them and they are all so unique. My youngest sister is athletic, among other talents, then the next youngest is very scholastic and highly intelligent, but also artistic and creative... let's face it she's at the top of the gene pool... And then my other sister is so giving, and caring, with an eye for design and fashion and talent in scrap-booking and the much coveted ability to help in the background without drawing attention to herself, in addition to the possession of an excellent work ethic and organizational skills she must have inherited from my father.

And my oldest sister is a wonderful mother of two and wife of almost ten years, with many abilities in business, arts and crafts such as sewing, quilting, and cross-stitch, cuisine, and baking the best raisin bread I have ever had in my life. She even has her own blogbook that she poured hours of work into, and her own cookbook that she did as a fourth year student.

And of course my brother is also incredibly fantastic to have survived having so many sisters... I could probably write a book about him if he ever were to get famous. We used to tease him, call him "The Boy" and call him "Cow Eyes", but the epithet that made him most angry was when we named him Johnny Applesauce... Boy we were mean. It wasn't his fault he shortened us to "the girls" after calling us Kan and Zan as a toddler. I still remember the day he called an elevator "an alligator". I must have inherited my Opa's ability to remember seemingly insignificant details...

photo credit M. den Boer with apologies to C.

My Muse

Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair...
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breath its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child!

Felicia D. Hemans
In the book of poetry, The Better Land

I have used a Felicia D. Hemans quote as the descriptor for my blog, almost as long as I have had a blog. I never knew she was born in Liverpool and that she was the granddaughter of a Venetian consul in Liverpool, England. Or that she had nineteen books published in the nineteenth century, being a contemporary of Wordsworth, and a popular figure in America, Britain, and Ireland, especially among women readers; She passed out of the literary canon for some time, only to re-emerge with a voice that still rings out today. Let's just say she was a woman who spoke (or wrote) her mind, and had five sons in quick succession, and then a divorce. Among her poetry that is still read today, especially in her native America, are...

"The Image in Lava", "Evening Prayer at a Girls' School", "I Dream of All Things Free", "Night-Blowing Flowers", "Properzia Rossi", "A Spirit's Return", "The Bride of the Greek Isle", "The Wife of Asrubal", "The Widow of Cresentius", "The Last Song of Sappho", and "Corinne at the Capitol"

Her most popular books were The Forest Sanctuary (1825) and Records of Woman and Songs of Affection (1830). She died of "dropsy" in 1835 (another term for edema, I think) and Wordsworth wrote her a memorial. Her last published works were Scenes and Hymns of Life, National Lyrics, and Songs for Music.

According to Wikipedia she was "a troubling predecessor" to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, wife of poet Robert Browning, (and a poet in her own right before she married him), and a "less acknowledged" influence on Tennyson and Longfellow, as well as to many female poets who followed in her train, and who, unfortunately, I have never heard of before.

The image is of a book published by Princeton Press

Sometimes all you need is the office to yourself...

and you can accomplish most of the work of your PowerPoint slides that could still be looming over your head, in less than two hours, even after wasting a solid hour reading random blogs and day-dreaming... It just goes to show that Mary Poppins was right that just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down in a most delightful way! Procrastination only makes my job as a student worse and ruins the quality of my life personally. Being proactive is better by far. Let that be a lesson to me, myself, and I! Now tomorrow I will work on biology in the morning, get my hair done in the afternoon, and go to a special evening at my church in the evening... all because I halted my procrastination attempts and started to concentrate on the job at hand. Yah for productive days and evenings!

The 101st Post

So, to my surprise, I have passed the 100 post barrier. My mother did that in her first year of blogging. I did it with forty-six days to spare, and now can devote my attention to other goals such as making the best lemon meringue pie in the world and running all the way to the Mountain Brow and then going up and down the stairs twice. I have also managed to eat lobster and there is even a picture to prove it that may have been deleted due to the face I was making at the time. I think if you don't grow up with seafood it is harder to like it... but I am trying to be more adventurous. Also I have succeeded at barbecuing a steak. One thing I won't do is write I am in a relationship on Facebook, as tomorrow is my official Facebook emancipation day... I have been clean for almost two weeks and I don't know what to do when I am bored anymore. It is probably one of the reasons I have been blogging more. Also I'm kind of the persuasion right now that a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle, that's one of my favourite U2 lyrics...

Actually I only have 101 posts on my dashboard, because I have kept some drafts I will never publish, and I have started some drafts I may publish later... I guess the celebration must be delayed until I have 100 posts published on my blog, which shouldn't be that hard to accomplish.

Summer Ceremony

10:03 am in the strawberry field
To the chorus of birds and crickets
I kneel, the straw imprinting my bare knees
with crisscrossed red lines
like the lines of a highway map
The sun warms my head and back
and heightens the patch's perfume
fragrance of ripe berries
rot of the passed over and past due
aroma of straw and rich earth
The dew collects on my hands
as I grasp plump, luscious berries
Some thud in my basket
where they lie in a heap of mottled reds
Others land in my mouth
tart and tangy
or sweet and juicy
the nectar of summer days.





This is one of my old poems from university. This year I totally missed going to pick strawberries. I guess this is an idealized version of that experience, but it is a ritual that I love. I am somewhat disappointed right now that my brother didn't get his best birthday present ever... Netherlands winning the World Cup! I hope you have a Happy Birthday anyways John! Hard to believe how old we are both getting, but as Indiana Jones says it's not the years it's the mileage! So far the road has been curving and transversing up and down, but out on the horizon there must be something, I can see it, peaking through the trees...

The 80's revisited

I seem to recall being extremely unfashionable in the eighties. It is only because I looked back in pictures and interpreted it that way, I suppose. My hair was cut in a mullet-like style at one point. I forgot it was picture day one year, and I wore a hand-me-down blue shirt, which with my very short hair-cut made me look like an effeminate little boy. That's the same year I came to a new school after moving to my current city from farther north. At one point acid-wash jeans were in, but that might have been early nineties. And tie-die was big and crimping your hair was all the rage.

The early nineties were the worst period, in my view, because I cringe every time I pass that era in my former grade school's storied hall... Everything was floral and clashing horribly with the other dresses. The smart people were wearing a solid, more classic colour, but in the end the photo still looks disastrous. We decorated our hall with teal and mauve streamers, and MWS's "Friends are Friends Forever" was played after we had dined on lasagne and caesar salad.

One thing I am thankful for is that usually I didn't bother with the poofy bangs look with the blue eye-shadow, although I wore the denim over-alls with one strap undone and walked with my back-pack only on one shoulder. I continued to wear plaid shirts well into my high school years. I just can't understand why I would want to revisit plaid, tie-dye, acid-wash jeans, poofy hair, and big floral outfits... I completely draw the line at buying another pair of overalls! The last ones I owned were beige corduroy and still embarrass me to this day... I assume we are revisiting those who actually had style, or maybe money to buy designer wear. I still remember LA Gear, with fluorescent shoe laces, and the show "Full House" that I watched taped copies of at my best friend's house.

Things from the eighties I still like are those jelly shoes made of plastic for very small feet, hand-sewn-family-coordinated dresses, little dresses bought in Florida from my grandparents, and hand-knitted little sweaters made with love by my grandmother. As for toys, I think Care Bears, stuffed animals of any type (my favourite was my Benji dog), My Little Ponies, Light-Bright, Easy-Bake Ovens, Skip-its, pogo balls, long skipping ropes, building blocks, yarn-hand-crafted-dogs, and slinkies are on my list of favourite toys. I had an imitation Cabbage-Patch doll with pink hair named Gertie Tanya, but I renamed her because I thought it was an ugly name. Mine had tight curls and my sister's had pig-tails. Now I have completely exhausted this fascinating topic, I think I will make myself some dinner... reheated left-overs sounds perfect!

My Beautiful Family

Lately I have been ever more and more grateful for my family. Here is the first photo of our entire family in five years. It was wonderful having everyone all together again, and to have so many things to celebrate!

New Every Morning

God's mercies are new every morning! So when the sun peaks out from across the empty park, when I am driving into the sun on the way to somewhere important like work or school, when I watch the sun rise as I bend over to pick some weeds that I can barely see in the cold barren season of nearly winter, and when I manage to see the car approaching the corner before the said car runs into my car, or I hit my car into a snowbank at a relatively slow speed and the airbag does not deploy, I have good reason to say "Great is Thy Faithfulness!"

Also I am now very attached to Cornelius and I hope he will stay in my life for awhile longer... I am now one of those extremely cautious drivers... Cornelius has had to put up with a lot of ignorance from me, but that he is still around is a testament to my excellent mechanic and also my parents who between them know quite a bit about cars. Also I now have a cellphone to use in emergencies so we can happily be stranded somewhere together, and eventually someone will come and rescue us... Good old CAA. Any post that begins with God and ends with the CAA must be stream of conciousness writing, and I have been trying to get away from that, but it is really how my mind is working right now, especially in the morning.

I am happy to report that the whole renewal of the mind project seems to be proceeding on schedule. And my brain is quite remarkable, because it is fighting to return to regular functioning and mostly succeeding at that. My spirit, soul, and body are also in good hands. All in all, healing is happening and it isn't me who is doing it.

Orange

If I actually owned something orange, I might wear it to church the day of the final Fifa South Africa soccer match. But I connect the colour orange to prison jumpsuits, unflattering mug shots, and much more distantly to flowers planted in gardens in protest of Nazi Germany. These same flowers sometimes later had to be eaten, if you lived in the cities during the hunger winter. I don't think orange is even my colour, and I am only probably the last Netherlands fan to jump on the band-wagon, so my opinion means very little.

That said, I remember doubting Thomases are sometimes very surprised to find solid evidence against their previous claims, so let's just say I'll be as surprised as anyone what happens in the next two matches. But I think Germany will triumph during the next match, and they are the most formidable opponent the Dutch could have to face in the final match, to my untrained eye. I really know very little about football in Europe, have never been to Europe, and I have never even left the continent of North America, though I have been to Florida and on a couple of trans-Canada tours and that is a lot of kms to travel without ever leaving two neighbouring countries. Also Europe is very, very different than it was post WWII, as is Canada and every other country in this ever-shrinking world.

Failing, On the Road to Success

I just received the lowest grade I ever have in the history of my scholastic achievements. The funny thing is I probably could have normally passed no problem, or even challenged for credit and got the course. The other unusual thing is that I don't view it as a failure at all, but as a personal success. I could have dropped the course, I could have quit, I could have taken the withdrawal W on the transcript and gone and lived my life of quiet desperation, far from the halls of academia. But I am not a quitter, and I always come from behind, and I ultimately triumph, at least in academics. I started university with a personal relationship with the Dean, and I saw him weekly for quite some time. I aced first year, and didn't look back. I got accepted to a graduate school program I never ended up taking, but I did eventually go back to school and I got into a good program. Whether I really belong in this program is a matter of debate, since I am not a college student, but an university graduate, I am more theoretically minded than practical, and I question what I learn, and I also read medical information very slowly so as to grasp the details of the material. I don't think I really belong, but I think I can adapt to the program a whole lot better than the program is adapting to me.

Isaiah 43:19 (New International Version)

19 See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the desert
and streams in the wasteland.

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

I don't know exactly why, but I am somewhat ashamed of my Dutch heritage. Maybe the reason I have a hard time cheering for the Dutch in the World Cup in South Africa, is because I know a little bit about the history of apartheid and I can't bring myself to cheer for Orange. I don't know much about how Nelson Mandela accomplished reconciliation or how many poor are still barely surviving in South Africa. I know the future can be bright from the sun, or that precious things could ignite into flame given enough heat and pressure.

I want to cheer for the only team I can cheer for as a Canadian of Dutch descent, the Netherlands team. I am Dutch through and through, with a pinch of French from the Huguenots and maybe a touch of Freisland in the mix (if they were significant in my heritage, I am sure I would know how to spell Freisland). But the Dutch people themselves are some kind of European mix as well. Sometimes though I guess everyone has to let go of all the wrongs in the past and move on to a better future.

My maternal grandfather was somewhat scarred from his experiences in the Netherlands during the Occupation of Holland by Nazi Germany. He was hiding for most of the war and he was secretly corresponding with my maternal grandmother who he met briefly during the war. At the end of the war they married and left for Canada where they made their future together. They have been gone for over two years now and they are together and were not long separated. I think they understood much wisdom at the end of their long lives together. I look forward to seeing them again in bodies that are not failing and without any scars or bitterness. I look forward to laughing again with them and there being no more tears or death or crying or pain. I look forward to my grandmother being articulate, sharp-witted, and cheerful again and my grandfather smiling at me and showing me his beautiful flowers. I don't know why I am mourning them now, rather than at their funerals, but then my eyes were bright with unshed tears. Now I cry for myself, more than for them.

My nephew, my niece, and I

Photo credit: K. Langelaar


I am a proud aunt, because my nephew and niece are adorable, usually obedient to their mother and father, and are loads of fun... I can see both their parents in both of them, both good and bad traits too! Thankfully the two little darlings don't cry quite as easily as my older sister and I in former days! But they also are bundles of energy and sometimes need a long nap... It is so good to see a very good older brother who takes good care of his little sister so carefully, and a little sister who will try to copy whatever big brother attempts.

Happy Canada Day!

My father may have been born in Paris, France, and all my grandparents, (including my Oma, who is still doing well with seven great grandchildren and counting), may be from Holland, the Old Country, but I am Canadian (notwithstanding the facts that I don't actually like beer and that I live in the supposed arm-pit of Ontario). I am proud to be a third generation Canadian and I am glad that there are many kinds of Canadians and many new immigrants who can strengthen this country. Sometimes the newest Canadians are the proudest ones, with the best stories (although not all those stories are pleasant stories). Happy Canada Day, and may our country continue to survive and thrive and not forget its roots, while it finds its wings!

A Celebration Post

So many good things happened in this month that I couldn't end June without one final post... Here's to family, good friends, and the power of love (and yes I truly am an 80's child!) I'd give a word of wisdom, but everyone who is close to me is asking to get a word in edgewise... If I really was wise they'd probably be trying to get me to speak! Maybe once I double my age, I'll be wise enough to write an actual book. In the meantime I have this blog...

The End of the Road

Back in 2007 I joined a social networking site. Slowly I gained some virtual friends, most of whom I had one time attended classes with in some level of my education. Since I wasn't in face to face contact with many of them, they were just people who I was interested in, or who I wondered what had happened to. Also I added some new acquaintances, and accepted friend invitations from most people who requested it. Some were childhood friends, and I attempted to be thrilled about the fact that they had settled down, married their sweethearts, and started their families. In reality I was only somewhat happy for them; deep down I was envious of their circumstances. I loved to see their new babies' photos, or to read their thoughts on motherhood, but it wasn't an unalloyed joy.

At my age people say my biological clock is ticking down and that I should start a family soon. But in the end, I would rather not have the blessing of children than to marry and/or fool around with the wrong guy. It's not that I believe there is only one guy in the world I could be happy with, although I love the story of Isaac and Rebekah in the Bible. It's just that until the timing is right, I am ready, and I meet the so-called Mr. Right, children are only a distant aspiration.
I believe God knows my desires and that he actually gave me them. I also know some are called to have spiritual children and no physical ones at all. I know some would love to have a child and simply can't because of low fertility or not enough funds to care for the child. I also know some children never get the chance to even be born. It is sad to me when society looks at children as an expense or an inconvenience or as a threat to the natural world due to long-standing fears of over-population. Most mothers love their children and would protect them with their lives if need be. But sometimes people don't think they have options in the situations they find themselves in.

I started this post talking about a social networking site, and like a slow meandering river I have found myself somewhere completely different from where I thought I was headed at the beginning of this post. Suffice to say, I am leaving the social networking site for good, a process that takes about two weeks to completely finish. I will miss being connected to former and current classmates, but sometimes you have to cut deep to remove a cancer of the soul.

Why I hate Dutch Bingo

I have nothing against the game of Bingo itself, although it seems a game for blue-haired old ladies or for younger kids who only play for the pure joy of yelling "Bingo!" But Dutch Bingo I just do not enjoy. Maybe it is only because I am not very good at this particular past-time. You could argue I don't care enough about people who are distantly related to me, or that I don't like the close sense of community my people have. I could justify it by saying I just hate gossip or that I don't really care who is second cousins with whom. I could tell you I am a cosmopolitan girl who has expanded her social circle to include people very different from herself. Well, it is true I don't like gossip, although I know how it's done and can participate quite well. It is also true that I don't particularly care to trace blood-lines, and that I would consider marrying outside of the charmed Dutch circle. Sometimes I am a little sad about how many times Dutch people in Canada can divide and still seem so much the same as each other. Oh, and I am not cosmopolitan at all! Well, this computer is needed, so that's the end of my post. I hope to post some pictures of my vacation soon!

Maybe...

Maybe it's sad it took 29 plus years to realize this, but I have a great Dad! He might not be perfect, but no human father ever is. In fact my dad is such a great father I think he is the ideal father for me. So for that, I guess I can thank my Heavenly Father, who is perfect, knows all things, and planned every step of my life before I was even conceived. So thanks Heavenly Father for my earthly father! And thanks Dad for being such a good provider, encourager, and example! You are such a good father my standards are so high I will probably be especially choosey about a lot of things... Well, that's all I want to say. Over and out!

On Living and Dying

Emily Dickenson once began a poem "Heart do not break, they mend and ache..." And it is very true, your heart can be torn, it can be divided, or it can be trampled on, but it does not ever break. It isn't made of porcelain, or even bendable steel. Sometimes you yourself tear a piece out of your own heart and trust that your heart itself will mend. In the Bible it says to guard your heart for out of it comes the wellspring of life. Sometimes I think I have been looking for water in broken cisterns that cannot even hold water.
In the end, something in you has to die, before you can ever be reborn. In the end, you must choose what is your true treasure. Before it is too late, you have to decide who is really in charge of your own life, and then you may realize that your life was really a gift that was not your own at all. And then you may understand that you have been given other gifts too; some that you have buried; others that you have tossed aside, and others that you haven't even discovered yet. Jesus once said "Physician heal thyself" (KJV) and I think his point was that if we want healing we should find the source of the true living water and then journey towards that source until we reach our destination. But then we will also discover it wasn't about the destination at all; it was all about the journey. And really we all want some kind of heavenly city and some kind of garden of peace and joy and hope, and we all want a renewed earth. The world is never ever beyond redemption! Thanks be to God!

The Storm is Over

Yesterday my very good friend came over and stayed overnight. We had a wonderful day together and she was such a blessing to me this past evening. We recited some psalms from memory before sleep, and then she sang me a version of Psalm 91 she learned about ten years ago. Since she was tired she couldn't recite the whole Psalm 91, but she got the beginning and the ending, and from there we remembered most of the middle. I think we forgot "Teach us to number our days aright, so we can gain a heart of wisdom" and maybe some other phrases as well. Naturally my friend could recite Psalm 23 perfectly. She is my friend who consistently prays for me. We tend to decide to call each other at the same time, and we usually call each other at the right time. I got seven hours of sleep last night, and she is still sleeping peacefully. I am so thankful she could visit this weekend! I look forward to a lovely day together!

Back to School

Photo Credit M. den Boer


On Monday I am going back to school after a four week absence. I will complete a total of four out of the original eight courses, and then I will attack the rest in September. I call it the divide and conquer maneuver and I believe it is highly effective... Stay tuned for further developments.

A Minor Annoyance

Yesterday I got a parking ticket on my own street where I always park my car, because my car hadn't been moved for twelve hours. At the time I was ignoring my car and planning for its repairs. What annoys me is that they invent these bylaws they have no way of enforcing fairly and then they proceed to apply them as they are given complaints by the neighbourhood. I don't think the complaint was actually about my car. Yesterday I actually wrote down the license plate of someone parked illegally in front of my house. Was I planning my revenge? I am very annoyed that no one ever comes to a complete stop at the stop sign in front of our house. I think if the police need to raise funds they should have no problem ticketing all these people. I also know that that can't be their priority in my neighbourhood.

Seeing Red without the Rose-coloured Glasses

I have much latent rage nowadays. I am not sure when the volcano will actually erupt, but the rumblings are definitely there. I am angry at men in leadership sometimes (or my own father as the head of the household in which I live), other times I am angry about child abuse and molestation, other times I just burst into tears at the slightest provocation. My doctor could label it as hormones gone amuck I suppose. And I think my anger is covering up a deep hurt.... Actually I know I have a very large wound and that eventually will heal, but in the meantime I have anger and sometimes rage and often tears.

I detest the exploitation of women even in this country, I am enraged by the abuse of children, I abhor when something could have been done to stop the abuse and nothing was done. I can't stand the exploitation of the poor wherever in the world they are. I know that justice can't be done right now, but I wish there was more mercy for all the abused, exploited, and every one else who struggles just to find food or even water... I am angry because I want to be an adult now and handle all this about the world, but I feel completely powerless. Maybe these are all the things that also break God's heart, but he is not powerless at all.

All that is left for me it seems is mere prayer... I say mere prayer in the same sense CS Lewis said "Mere Christianity". In conclusion, I have realized my finiteness and discovered I can only do "small things with great love" (Mother Teresa). I can be salt, light, and God's child... I can be a branch, bearing fruit, attached to a channel of His life, I can be a sheep resting by quiet waters, I can hide in the shelter of the shadow of my Father's wings. And I can pray that in the end justice and mercy will come. I'd rather delay the justice and dispense the mercy for now.

Of All the Things I've Ever Lost...

Grandma had a very unique magnet which read "Of all the things I ever lost, I miss my mind the most." Many things in my grandparents home were unique and special; their wood-burning stove, twisting green carpeted stairs, the little hole in one of the bedrooms beneath the crib where you could see and speak to whoever was in the living room. The front and back porches, the bird houses, the vegetable gardens, the covered spot for a picnic table, the pictures of my uncles and my mother as children, the tree that was just perfect for climbing, the rail road tracks that could shake the whole house when a train went by, the clip clop of the Amish (or was it Mennonite?) black buggies passing by. And then there was Grandpa's greenhouse where he put his grandchildren to work preparing soil, transplanting, or in the case of my brother, using power tools at a very young age. Grandma was sure to have some cookies and juice at our break time, and we would have our big meal at lunch time. I had enough leisure time to reread a Lori Wick series every year, peruse several other interesting books, and to explore around the area... I remember a very interesting cemetery nearby. My favourite part of the week other than receiving my wages, which might have been equally exciting, was when Grandpa took us to the used bookstore and we could pick out five books. That's where I got my copy of Gone With the Wind, my own copy of Little Women, and some interesting comic books. Every year my grandparents would think of some kind of outing we would probably enjoy... Boblo (sp?) Island is the one I recall most vividly.

So of all things I have ever lost the things I miss the most are:

1. My child-like sense of wonder and awe

2. My innocence and steadfast belief in the good motives of others

3. My compassion in which I can enter into the pain someone else is feeling

4. My trust that doesn't need all the answers to be able to relax in the embrace of love.

5. My grandparents themselves including my Opa, and Grandma and Grandpa

6. My confidence that if I try my best, things are going to work out.

7. My sense of purity in thought, emotions, and actions. To compare myself to a stream, I would say the water is somewhat stagnant, murky, and slow moving and manifestly polluted by the foam on the sides of the banks.

Why I loved Freida and spell her name my own way

Freida was really my cat because I took care of her for three weeks while my family was on vacation. Freida was a beautiful cat with long and luxurious fur, much like a wonderful coat. She was a proud cat, and very mean to strangers. But I think this is because Freida realized she was special and beautiful and she belonged in this house.

Actually Freida was given to us because someone else was allergic to her. The problem was she was not at all inviting to strangers. She was a territorial cat who knew she belonged here, but I think her vision was also very poor. Naturally she responded to voices and she probably recognized voices that she knew. The thing with Freida is that she was a little overweight from being overfed, because really she would eat whatever she was given and meow for more. And if you gave her a lot of food she would just eat it all right then. Freida just didn't understand she would be fed again.

And this is the tragedy: Freida couldn't belong in a house where strangers (to her) were coming and going and this where she felt she belonged and in a perfect world she could have stayed. But really when grandchildren are coming to visit, Freida can't be in this house. The grandchildren will only be here for a brief time and they are the most important to this family. We care more about them than about a cat who feels she belongs, but can't be comfortable with any one she doesn't know.

Freida was definitely curious about outside the house, but she only wanted to go out when there was snow, though she never remembered that she actually didn't like the cold. The point is that I loved Freida, I realized I wanted to care for her, but she didn't work in our house. She was given another chance to live somewhere else, but I hope someone who realizes how beautiful she is is the one caring for her now. Because she is a strong aristocratic cat and she needs to belong somewhere where she can be the priority and some one has the patience to train her and speak to her. I doubt Freida is still alive, but she is after all a cat and people are the ones who matter the most to me.

Freida was actually named after a cute character in a children's book named Frieda Fuzzypaws. This character wanted the cookies baking in the oven, but didn't want to eat her two beans that she was supposed to. I guess I am realizing the irony of this story. I would laugh out loud, but I am probably just bemused.

Worlds Apart by Jars of Clay

I'm the only one to blame for this
Somehow it all adds up the same
Soaring on the wings of selfish pride
I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard
To leave behind
To rid myself of all but love
To give and die
To turn away and not become
Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loves
More deeply than the oceans, more abundant than the tears
Of a world embracing every heartache
Can I be the one to sacrifice
Or grip the spear and watch
The blood and water flow
To love you, take my world apart
To need you, I am on my knees
To love you, take my world apart
To need you, broken on my knees
All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I should not own
It takes all I am to believe
In the mercy that covers me
Did you really have to die for me?
All I am for all you are
Because what I need
And what I believe are worlds apart, and I pray
To love you, take my world apart
To need you, I am on my knees
To love you, take my world apart
To need you, broken on my knees, on my knees
I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
And wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remains
More and more I need you now
I owe you more each passing hour
The battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
And wash the feet and cleanse my pride
Take the selfish, take the weak
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
The sin-soaked heart and make it yours
Take my world all apart
Take it now, take it now
And serve the ones that I despise
Speak the words I can't deny
Watch the world I used to love
Fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
So wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remain
Steal my heart and take the pain
Take the selfish, take the weak
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
Take my world apart, take my world apart
And I pray, and I pray, and I pray
Take my world apart, world apart

When I was seventeen, a friend put this song on a tape for me to listen to in the hospital. I listened to it on my Ipod last night and this morning at 4 am. I think the lyrics speak for themselves, so I won't elaborate on the song's personal meaning.By the way I also like this song musically, but I can't post the actual song as I am ignorant about computers.

Why you should always wear a helmet, especially if your head is not on straight

When I was eighteen, the summer before I started my full-time factory job, I took a summer school course at St. Thomas Moore. Surprisingly I wasn't a very good summer school student; I got my lowest mark ever in high school and only did well on one test that was total review. I didn't study that much either. Every morning that July I would bike to school in my jeans. It was hot and I would get extremely sweaty before I arrived in the air-conditioned school. Since I wasn't a great student, the teacher gave me special accomodations and allowed me longer to take the test. So one morning I was biking to school early so I could begin the test before the other students. I was about to turn into the school when I noticed a car beside me. Stupidly I thought the car was also turning and even more stupidly I thought we could turn at the same time. So the car hit me and I flew over the windshield of the car and landed at the other side of the road; my helmet was split down the middle, I had some scrapes and bruises, but I was basically unhurt. I was ready to go and take my test, but the person whose car I had collided with was very worried and called 911. So the firefighters arrived, and insisted on cutting open my jeans at the knees to inspect the damage. I had to make those jeans into shorts; I was mad about that. Then the paramedics made me go in the ambulance to go to the hospital, although I was basically unhurt. If I remember correctly I later had to pay for the ambulance. The police took my bike as evidence and later gave me a hefty fine for turn without safety as well as points on my driver's license, although at this time I wasn't driving a car.
After a nurse cleaned up my scrapes on my arms and legs, I returned to school that afternoon and took my test. I noticed some of the other students pointing me out as the student who had gotten hit by a car. This story could have been told in a more humorous fashion, as I have had all my coworkers convulsing over the ridiculousness of what I had done. Today it sounds a little more melodramatic, but I am emotional after reading the VE section in the Spectator.
The point of this story is that you should always always wear your helmet, because you could get permanent brain damage should you be hit by a car, or should you hit the car yourself, as in my case. I haven't biked much since this incident, but I still have my bike which is slightly damaged but still rideable.

A Brief Update

Some exciting news: I think I am losing weight! Also I love my hair, my life, and am looking forward to being a real nurse! In other news, I have left Christian Cafe. I think I know a good man now when I see one. And they aren't all already taken!

The Evolution of this Blog

A few days ago I was reading over many of my blog posts. I realized my posts have gotten a lot briefer and a lot less thoughtful. There was a time when I considered deleting this blog, but I don't think I could do that. I am proud of some of my posts and others remind of when I used to be a whole lot more passionate about life and about God. Rereading the posts reminded me of some of my visions for life. I also looked over my dream book recently, which my friend bought for me to fill up with my dreams. In it I started some pages about the fruits of the Spirit with biblical quotes and specific goals and a dream statement for each fruit. I also wrote down my dreams for my future husband and started some pages about random things like travel, writing, children, and biblical studies. There was no page about becoming a nurse and very little detail about anything except the fruits of the spirit and my description of my future husband, to which I added the necessary caveat "should he ever appear."
There are some posts I have deleted, including the one that probably was the most read due to its subject matter. Other ones I viewed as too negative, or too revealing.
Also my blog is a record of a hard time in my life around three years ago. I wouldn't really know what happened when if I didn't have the blog record.
I think that in my back of my mind I always imagined that my future husband would someday read my blog. But then I've always been a romantic at heart. Well, it's late and this writing has been interrupted by a phone call from an old friend so I will wrap things up. I'll just say that I hope this blog can be revived and that the quality of writing will improve.

Pondering this today:

The Heidelberg Catechism

Lord's Day 10
27 Q What do you understand by the providence of God?
A. Providence is
the almighty and ever present power of God
by which he upholds as with his hand,
heaven and earth
and all creatures,
and so rules them that,
leaf and blade,
rain and drought,
fruitful and lean years,
food and drink,
health and sickness,
prosperity and poverty—
all things, in fact, come to us
not by chance
but from his fatherly hand.

Wondering: Can we say that mental illness could be considered a gift from God's hand? If it shapes you into the person you are? If it shifts the course of your life? If all things will work out for your good?

Becoming a Nurse

I am very close to finishing my first semester of my Practical Nursing program. So much theory, so many skills, and so much knowledge can be taught, but some qualities and attitudes cannot be learned in a classroom... they must be already there, or at least they must be incubating, ready to emerge. I am confident in the classroom learning theory, or taking a multiple choice test, or writing a paper, but when it comes to hands-on work, applying what I have learned to what I do, when it comes to displaying the caring that I know is within me, I lack self-assurance and I falter. I have never had to apply my education to practical hands-on work to this degree before. In my previous jobs, as a receptionist, an order desk clerk, and as a long-time nursery worker, when I faced challenges, I didn't feel like the same capable person as I am in academic pursuits. My nursery job wasn't particularly challenging, so I didn't have a lot of instances of self-doubt, but my first office job certainly wasn't confidence-building. How can I learn to be confident, self-assured, capable, and caring, as I continue my transformation into a nursing professional?

Evangelism and Me

One of my early childhood memories involves my kindergarten self reasoning with my four year-old neighbour Andy about his eternal destination based on his lack of church attendance and evident lack of faith in Jesus. "You don't want to go to hell, do you?" I asked him, before I was corrected by my mother for my misapplied religious zeal. As I got older, I learned that some topics like salvation and damnation were better avoided, except perhaps among people who were like-minded and wanted a friendly debate about predestination. Even these debates had the potential to degenerate into heated exchanges that became highly personal. Throughout my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood, as I attended Christian grade-school, high school, and university, I was surrounded by other Christians and with people who knew the gospel message, even if they didn't personally believe in it. I had no non-Christian friends, and few non-Christian social contacts. While I do remember times I shared about my faith, or presented the gospel, these instances were infrequent. I took comfort in the quote "Preach the gospel, and if necessary use words." My lifestyle and attitudes should speak of my Christian commitment, and draw others towards Christ. Although, sometimes I had my doubts that my life was extraordinary enough to merit scrutiny or to compel someone to say "I want what she has." Also my life seemed to more shaped by my religious list of behaviours and practices to avoid and some positive actions that must be performed, such as Bible reading, prayer, and occasional good works, than by a positive living out of my faith, drawing on a deep connection with Christ to truly love and serve others. Selfishness, pride, greed, hatred, jealousy, and anger were and remain quite obviously a part of my daily life, and however much I tried to demonstrate the fruits of the spirit I failed and I continue to fail to live an exemplary selfless life.

The truth is my Christian witness is not primarily through the quality of my life, but through my testimony of God's undeserved grace in my life. God has brought me through some extremely difficult times, and redeemed my life from the pit of depression and hopelessness. Some one who looks at my life will not be overwhelmed by my exemplary living, although they may note some counter-cultural practices or some things I avoid. But they will see evidence of God's grace if they examine closely and they might hear about his faithfulness. Without God's grace and Christ's sacrifice for me, I would still be back in that pit, and might not even be alive today.

Do I need to return to something like my kindergarten zeal about sharing the gospel and testifying of God's grace? While threatening others with hell-fire is probably not the right approach, I think I should take more of an active interest in evangelism, and consider how that would be expressed in my life, as guided by the Holy Spirit. And I should draw from the depths of Christ's love for me, to find the love and grace to give to others, until it becomes like a neverending stream of life-giving water flowing out of me.

Twenty-nine and half

Well, I am over half way between 29 and 30, and I have less than six months to accomplish my list of 30 things I wanted to get done. This winter I haven't gone downhill skiing, and I still haven't eaten a lobster, or become a full-fledged optimist. I am unlikely to travel to a foreign country, or take a pottery class, as I am considering taking a summer semester, leaving me with little time for a vacation or leisure activities. I haven't written in a journal even once in the past half year, I haven't befriended a friendless person, and I have gained weight instead of losing it, so my belly has become more rotund rather than less. This blog has never been more neglected, although I have posted two posts this year that I have since deleted; I am unlikely to reach my 100th blog post goal. While the summer could see me taking up roller-blading, starting a running program I have been planning on getting to for years, doing a couple of repetitions of the escarpment stairs, learning to barbeque, going on a road trip, snapping pictures with a new digital camera, and playing my first tennis game, I will definitely have to exert myself to accomplish even some of those visions. I can see myself learning how to bake a lemon meringue pie and to cook a whole chicken, but completing ten consecutive push-ups seems an illusive goal. My most troubling failure is in my spiritual life; I haven't developed a daily prayer life, my relationship with Christ remains distant, and the spiritual disciplines and fruits of the Spirit haven't been much developed.

The goals I have made progress on include starting the Practical Nursing program this January, which is going well so far, and becoming involved at the Meetinghouse, where I have been attending a small group and volunteering my time for various causes. For awhile it seemed that I had found a new place to live with new room-mates, and I even moved all my furniture to the new place. Unfortunately my would-be room-mates changed their minds and they now have a couple of new room-mates living with them. Other progress includes the successful accomplishment of a simple sewing job, and the more tidy habits I have been keeping of late. I have joined Christian Cafe and I have corresponded with a few people, and even meet some of them in person, but I haven't started a serious relationship. I have intentionally developed more of a social life, and have gone to a couple of weddings of friends, and a couple of showers most notably.

At this point, my progress towards these goals seems unimpressive and lack-lustre. However there is a good chance with a redoubled and renewed effort, I can manage to accomplish at least half of them before August 29. Most importantly, I think I can focus my energy on the goals that matter the most, growing and developing spiritually. Other priorities include a more active life-style, and broadening my horizons by new experiences and developing new skills. May the next six months be full of learning and growing experiences!

A Visit to Saskatchewan

Playing with Owen's sticker book

Earlier this month I travelled to Saskatchewan to visit my sister, brother-in-law and their young family. It was delightful to spend time with my three year-old nephew Owen and one year-old niece Julianna. Owen was excited to open the gifts I brought him, including an alligator egg that would hatch and grow larger over a 48 hour span when placed in a glass of water. Julianna was less interested in the stuffed bunny I gave her. But she did warm up to me the first day I was there, perhaps because of how closely I resemble her mother. Karen and I went to a huge Craft Sale in Saskatoon. There was so much we would have liked to have purchased, but we confined ourselves to a few items. I bought a scrumptious fruit cake and some fudge, as well as a few stocking stuffers and some lunch. Karen and I also had a girl's night out that included shopping and a delectable chocolate dessert at Boston Pizza. It was nice to converse with Clint and to watch a few shows with him in the evenings and to be initiated into the world of Modern Warfare. He was quite busy taking care of young turkeys and cleaning out chicken barns. The weather turned very cold so we were happy to stay indoors. The Sunday I was there, Karen and Clint were admitted to membership at their church, and they had taped their testimonies to be played during the service. Other highlights include watching the last part of A&E's Pride and Prejudice with Karen after the kids were in bed, playing outside with Owen before the weather turned frigid, starting a sewing project, baking sugar cookies, and babysitting Owen and Julianna. I got to stay an extra day after my flight was cancelled. I have to say that my nephew and niece are even more adorable in person.

Karen & I

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.

Weighty Issues

My weight has fluctuated over the years. Being on medication that causes weight gain for over ten years, I have a ready excuse for my ballooning size. Not only is my appetite artificially enhanced, my body "wants" to be heavier. The times when I have lost weight it is because I switched to a medication that causes less weight gain than the one I was previously on. In the summer of 2000 I was making a medication change as well as working in a hellishly hot environment, and these factors combined to curb my appetite and the pounds dropped off with very little effort on my part. Every time I got fitted for my bridesmaid dress for my sister's wedding it had to be taken in. I was a trim 130 pounds, my weight in grade nine. When I started university, I gained ten pounds and then lost it the following summer. My new medication also caused weight gain, and I gradually put on weight as I completed university and entered the work-force. In 2007, when I was again in the hospital dealing with my illness, I switched medications again to one that still caused weight gain but to a lesser degree, and also made it hard to eat due to the side-effects. I also was fasting from chocolate for Lent and generally avoiding sweets, eating healthy, and exercising. Over the summer I continued to lose weight until I weighed 125 pounds, and didn't want to lose anymore. Unfortunately the new medication elevated my prolactin levels, so I had to go back to my old more expensive medication, and since then I have put on thirty pounds, so that I now weigh more than I ever have before.

Considering the fact that the times I have lost weight it has been primarily because I got off a medication that is notorious for causing weight gain, I wonder if I can even exercise enough and eat healthily enough that I can lose the added pounds. I can't rely on hunger signals as my appetite is not a reliable guide. I have to stop eating while I am still hungry. I need to avoid emotional eating or eating when I am bored or happen to be alone in the kitchen. I am writing this post to keep myself accountable to this new regimen. NO snacking between meals, other than fruits and vegetables. NO decadent desserts, other than for special occasions. Tea instead of hot chocolate. Smaller portions at supper. Going for a walk of at least twenty minutes at least four times a week, even if I have no one to walk with. My goal is to lose twenty pounds by the end of the summer, five pounds every month. Although my coworkers kindly tell me I look better at this weight, I don't like the added paunch and padding. I hope to write a celebratory post when I reach my goal. I think I'll take an unattractive picture of myself soon so I can have a before and after photo.

Why I (still) love romantic comedies

I can pinpoint the moment when the romantic comedy era officially ended in our household. It had been a bimonthly ritual, usually on a Friday night, that a sister and I would head to the local video store and pick up the latest offering of what is disparagingly referred to as a chick flick. "Runaway Bride" or "The Wedding Planner" or "Save the Last Dance". I always knew I was the more enthusiastic one about this type of movie, but my sister was willing to walk to the store and watch the movie with me, if I was paying. The moment that spelled doom for the companionable watching of this admittedly predictable genre of the movie, was the day we picked out "Little Black Book." The movie itself was forgettable, and I can't recall much of a plot, though it involved Brittany Murphy being angry about her boyfriend's black book of women's phone numbers, but one thing that sticks with me is its incredible suckiness. That and the fact that after watching that movie, my sister would no longer agree to watch any romantic comedies I selected and developed a taste for foreign films. Watching movies alone is not much fun, so I usually went with her counter selections. Since then I have fallen out of the habit of regularly renting movies, though I still do occasionally. I haven't seen "The Holiday" or "Made of Honour", though I did still manage to watch "27 dresses" and "The Devil Wears Prada" with my other sister who also swore off romantic comedies for a time.




So why do I still love romantic comedies?



1. They may be predictable, but you can always count on a happy ending.



2. While some have claimed romantic comedies create unrealistic expectations about real-life relationships, the lack of realism is part of their charm. Who wants escapism to be true to life?




3. The male lead is, with a few exceptions, good-looking, whatever the calibre of his acting.




4. The classic story-line: boy meets girl, boy is marrying other girl, boy and girl fall in love but can't admit it, other girl jilts boy at the altar, boy realizes who he really loves and chases after girl who is leaving town, boy and girl share passionate kiss, roll credits. Whatever the variation on the formula, you have to love the melodrama.



5. The belief in the power of love to overcome all the misunderstandings a two hour plot will allow warms the heart.





6. No matter how many times you have watched the same basic storyline, you still thrill when the two characters who are meant for each other finally ride off into the sunset.




7. The fantasy of love at first sight. For a moment you can believe anything is possible.



8. Romantic comedies usually make you laugh aloud at least once, and might even make you cry.


9. When you watch a romantic comedy, you know what you can expect. You may not be surprised by the film, but you won't be disappointed either (unless it is an exceptionally poorly done film).


10. A romantic comedy transports you to another dimension, where dreams really do come true and every woman has her perfect soul-mate.

Jealousy and Me

Recently it occurred to me that I have deep-seated jealousy issues. Right now I could list five people I have been intensely envious of in that their circumstances, their situation in life, their very personalities stir in me a deep sense of jealousy, and could enumerate still more individuals whose circumstances I envy. These feelings have arisen as I stared at blog or Facebook page and contemplated the gap between where those pictured are and where I am. They have filled me with a noxious poison as I find out about engagements, pregnancies, weddings and babies of people I know. Sometimes I will visit blogs of acquaintances, randomly following blog links from blogs I track regularly or less randomly visiting a blog I have visited before during previous excursions into the blogosphere. There are some I can't view without feeling that these people with their meaningful lives, beautiful little family units, and attractive personalities seem to have it all. Does this jealousy stem from my discontentment with my own life and circumstances and a sense of inadequacy and inferiority? Far from serene in my situation in life, I tend to focus on what I lack. I am busy with school and hope it will lead to a meaningful career eventually, but I don't face the future with breathless expectation but rather a subdued fearfulness. Sometimes I look at the person I am becoming and I don't even like myself. What happened to trusting that God has a plan for my life and considering the lilies? I guess I am too busy considering the gap between where I would like to be and where I am. When I started this post I thought blogging on this subject might lead to some helpful insight or resolution. Writing about it has made me realize that my issues go deeper than a problem with jealousy, but I haven't come to any solution. Maybe it is because I don't want to change badly enough.