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.