DayDream Believer

For me there has always been some kind of mystique to an island. Growing up I heard about the Thousand Islands, and my sister read to me a story of some kids who ran away from their parents and escaped to an island. The fact that she decided to stop reading the story part-way only fascinated me more. Then there is Huckleberry Finn and Jim on a raft going down the Mississippi river, a story my mother read to me in childhood, a tale full of their hideouts on remote tiny little rocks. As an adolescent I loved the novel by Lucy Maud Montegomery called "The Blue Castle" wherein Valcancy Stirling, once a staid and timid old maid, defies her family and marries in a backwoods ceremony a disreputable rakish man, and they live together on his island in the Muskokas. It turns out that he is her favourite author who writes about the beauty of the woods and he is also the son of a self-made millionaire who peddled patent medicine.

I love the northern wilderness, and in high school I decided that someday I wanted to be an author who owned her own island and went there in summers to write and reflect. I wanted to go there with my ruggedly handsome husband by motor boat, and bring along our progeny in the form of towheaded little rascals and beautiful little russet-haired princesses. This island didn't have to be very big, just large enough for a rustic cottage and some outlying buildings.

I wasn't sure how I could ever afford this island, and my plan wasn't just to marry someone rich. So I dreamed that I would become an award-winning journalist who traveled the world as a young ambitious woman.

This dream was just a castle in the air; more of a daydream than something I ever expected to actually happen. And life took me in different directions and now I am a student studying practical nursing, and I am not rich enough to even buy my own house on a tiny little lot. But that's okay, because riches are not necessarily owning your own island or Fortune 500 company. Riches are a family who loves you, friends who support you, blessings that fill your life even in the midst of disappointment and pain. Joy and peace, love and hope: these are all riches that money cannot buy and they are free gifts to any who would reach for them, who would seek and find, and open the door to the One who knocks.

The image is of my family at Doe Lake, on the dock in front of our rented cottage. Photo credit M. den Boer.

The Story of the Bad Gardener: A Cautionary Tale

This spring/summer I was put in charge of the planting and maintenance of the garden. At first I remembered to keep on watering the tender plants every other day or so, depending on the precipitation we were getting. The lilies bloomed and then they were all gone, and I think that was the point I ceased caring for any of the other plants in the garden. I only cared that they seemed to be surviving with the occasional rain they were getting.

Last night my mom said the impatients should have multiplied to four or five plants by now. I abandoned them to this horrible heat wave, and only cared that they still lived.

It kind of reminds me of the person in the parable who buried the talent in the ground and then presented it back at the time of accounting. A good gardener wants multiplication, and waters the plants every other day through the dog days of summer.

My grandfather was the best gardener I ever in my life encountered, and he would not be have been impressed by my excuses. Even less will my Heavenly Father be pleased if I waste my talents and keep dividing instead of multiplying his blessings and gifts.

Emotional Hangovers

I have never had a hangover induced by alcohol, but I know the experience of an emotional hangover after a bout of extreme, irrational emotion. My throat is sore from yelling, my emotions are subdued, my eyes feel newly bathed in tears, but no new tears will fall. Sometimes I just itch for a fight and usually I want a verbal jousting match, but no one wants to take the bait and play by my stupid rules... They all just want me to start treating people they way they deserve to treated with dignity and respect all of the time, not just for most of the day.

Emotional hangovers help you realize in the clear light of day that your patterns of behaviour cannot go on, and must not continue. But to stop them you need the help of a higher power... one who knows how you roll, and won't let you get away with staying in your stupidity and bad ways of relating. One thing I have to learn is that correction is not condemnation or even accusation. Wise people know this, and they listen and they usually don't even raise their voice at all, and they definitely don't change their tone to one dripping with negativity and sarcasm and drenched in angst-filled irrationality.

Two Birthdays

Today is the day my niece turns two, and it is also the birthday of my sister-in-law. They both are far away in kilometres and I just bought their birthday cards today, because it is easy to forget someone's birthday who you don't see everyday. I often forget my sister-in-law's birthday, so I have sent many belated birthday greetings. It's hard to believe it has been a decade since I first met her and five years since we celebrated the wedding... where does time go? Happy Birthday Laurianne and Julianna! I hope you enjoyed your days, and maybe next year I'll send the birthday card in time.

Some mothers are positively heroic...

Today we had some company over with two young children. I found myself in the pool for around an hour and a half with a four year-old girl who wanted me to teach her everything about swimming. I finally got her to try the back float and she finally relaxed enough to let go of my neck and lay back in the water with my hands supporting under her knees and back. She was wearing a life jacket, but she wasn't really ever fully testing its ability to hold her up. I think next summer she might be ready for swimming lessons, but let me tell you by the time we were done I was pretty tired!

She is very inquisitive, and very strong willed as well, but she has good parents and she is going to be going to JK this September. Before she left we went for half-an-hour at the park with her younger brother. Getting her to walk back required a mother with a stronger will and some good child psychology advice. It reminded me of Christina when she was two and she would often want to go on the slide five more times after I said it was time to go. But I would just tell her we had five more minutes, which is a hard concept for a two year old to grasp.

I can't really imagine parenting a child like that and always keeping two steps ahead of her, plus caring for a younger child with his own needs and vulnerabilities. I think a mother like that deserves some kind of medal of honour! I am so glad she has her husband who is a good father, and they present an united front.

It certainly makes me think about the challenge of raising children... they are harder to raise than plants and you can expect to keep training them until at least eighteen...only, your tactics will have to change along the way. Also they are extremely precious and very fragile, until they grow stronger and then you have to slowly let go, and eventually you hope they are actually launched!

Family Traditions Remembered

With all this heat we are getting in southern Ontario I am fondly remembering Christmases past. Here are some pictures from last family Christmas.



The matriarch of the family draws all family members together. Here are two of my cousins and one of the next generation of the B's.



Oma always insists on some kind of program, which is much resisted by the older crowd, some of whom are older than 30 or nearly in their third decade of life. Here are two of my cousins doing an Abbott and Costello routine... they actually were quite amusing.



Some of the more theatrical types re-enacted the tragedy of Aunt Jane's broken heirloom bowl. Of course it involved reheated potatoes and the nursing care required was completely incidental.





My Oma receives over 50% of all gifts, naturally. There is also an exchange involving the uncles and aunts. The rest of us gratefully receive money and of course a chocolate letter. Also the great grandchildren get some well-chosen gifts, and two cousins stubbornly maintain a gift exchange started long ago, back when they used to receive identical clothing to model.



My family keeps the tree up until the New Year. This past year we said good-bye to Freida Fuzzypaws, some of us under protest, and hello to Tungsten, who is much sweeter-tempered and less hated by our relatives. Operation Save Freida Fuzzypaws was a dismal failure.



No Christmas season is ever complete without an epic battle on the crokanol board. My Dad, due to his advantageously malformed fingernails, always triumphs! My uncle always vows to practice, but, if he does, it only delays the inevitable an extra half-hour.

The Cutest Little Munchkins and A Western Dystopian Tale

Here are my nephew, niece, and I playing lego. Our biggest challenge was all our girl lego people had been stolen from a long-ago diorama, and we were left with quite the Disney-esque story-arch where the farm was populated solely by males, and the occasional head-scarfed pirate "woman" who was not accepted into the storyline for long.

The adventurous son of the farmer kept on encountering bears in the dump and also taking brief trips into space on his rocket ship. He always returned very quickly from these forays, in time for everyone to go to sleep for the night. There was also a never-do-well friend of the son who could not be trusted and a couple of uncles who were regular visitors.

There were many casualties of the son's driving and the bears, but no one was ever mourned or missed. The grandparents rode over on their horses from their faraway homestead, and were served food made by their grandson. The grandmother was the lone female who did become a regular part of this western-futuristic saga. She wore a jaunty Robinhood style hat set off with a red feather. And how could I forget... the son discovered a buried treasure chest of gold and gems, and found the perfect hiding place for it on the farm.

When Less is More

I am really really skilled at making things more complex, whether that is emotionally, mentally, semantically, or procedurally. I am not so adept at simplifying life and the discipline of simplicity is about as foreign to me as French, a language I still occasionally speak to the annoyance of my family and the amusement of anyone who actually knows this beautiful language that I regularly butcher.

Slowing down, meditating on a phrase in Scripture, listening to the birds as you sit eyes closed on a park bench in the middle of the city, concentrating on just being instead of constantly doing, being silent when you have nothing of value to say instead of filling the quiet with meaningless talk and blabber; these are all things that are difficult for me.

If you think about it- what does a branch on the vine actually do? When you are hiding under the Shadow of God's Wings, what service are you required to perform? What level of intelligence is a sheep expected to have following the Shepherd's voice? What does it mean to BE a child of God, and what is the requirement for inheriting the Kingdom and all that it entails?

A Pair of Younger Sisters

I am always amazed (and somewhat jealous) of the bond between my two youngest sisters. They are separated in age by around seven years, but they never let that stop them in their sisterly bond. They get ready for bed at the same time (partly due the fact no one can use the upstairs bathroom after my Dad retires), they share beauty tips, they tell each other when the other looks unstylish and neither of them gets offended. And my sister Rachel was the image consultant, hair-stylist, and make up artist behind Christina's stunning look in this photo. I am pretty sure she helped select the dress as well, since it came from Montreal. Thankfully both sisters also have many other talents, other than looking beautiful.



Photo credit L. den Boer

There is no one in the world who can make me smile as effortlessly as Rachel (unless it is her best friend in combination; that duo will always be dynamic). I am extremely proud of Christina's athleticism and poise.

A Long, Sweltering Day

Today I had two appointments, walked a couple of kilometres in the noon-time heat, bid my aunt and Oma farewell, sent out some essential emails as pertains to my future studies, and exhausted my energies all before 2:30 pm, when my littlest sister's small gathering of friends began. Too bad I actually do have school work to get done! My second wind should arrive soon. Here's hoping...

Sunday Company

Today I went to my cousin's commissioning service, and visited with two aunts, an uncle, and my Oma who is now eighty-eight years old. My uncle flipped me off the air-mattress into the pool, because he just likes to tease his nieces as well as his very tolerant (and loving) wife.

The sermon today was about tolerance and love and how they interact in a believer's life and the exclusive claims that God and Christ made, as interpreted in Scripture vs. our cultural way of tolerance as it is interpreted in our postmodern world. It was enjoyable to sing today very loudly and mostly not to hear myself, and to sing meaningful songs of praise and gratitude.

It was good to see the relatives, enjoy a meal together, even though it is a sad time with my great-uncle passing away and leaving behind his beloved wife, his children, and many grandchildren. I don't know most of them or him very well. We visited his place once when I was very young and he had a beautiful property with a pond and many places to play. I think it must have been in July because I remember going to see fireworks. My Oma is the last left in her generation, because four brothers and a sister have all gone in the last two years. She is sad, but she told me that she is comforted that all of them are with Jesus. Some of the older generation including my parents and one aunt are going to the funeral tomorrow in Michigan with Oma, so they have just left to travel the four hours to their hotel.

The Sisterhood of Five

I wanted this photo on my blog, even if it has been posted elsewhere. I love my sisters, their variety, and their beauty. Two of my sisters have natural dark hair and the other two are blondes. I look most like my older sister and the two darker beauties look very much alike as well. I love their brown eyes! My youngest sister looks like my brother, according to her, but I don't really see it. My sister-in-law would have made a nice addition to this photo... she is gorgeous!

Sisters and Friends

I think the difference between sisters and friends is that sisters have to put up with a lot more. They live with you when the slightest criticism can bring you to tears or you are so touchy you can be tripped as easily as a landmine. They endure your subtle and not-so-subtle insults and pick the barbs out of their skin nonchalantly, as if their skin were actually of a thicker variety than yours.

They look up to you, and then they look down on you from their towering height. They travel far away and settle in other cities, building lives you only have a small window in on. They grow up and suddenly you feel old before your time.

You might bare your soul to a close friend, but no one knows your true heart like your own sister. Because despite your apparent transluncency, you wear a mask at times and a suitable disguise. You shift in and out of character until you are not sure at all about your actual identity. But your sister, she knows the face behind the mask and the wreck behind the false front. She knows, but because she is your sister, she loves you as you are.

Cornelius and I...

at the beginning of our relationship, before he broke down on the weekend of my sister-in-law's bridal shower. For awhile there we were less than cordial. Note the lack of dents... that's a significant detail! His body is a little less perfect now... If you look really close you might see my red graduation tassel, but I can barely make it out myself in this photo.

Walking and Talking

One of my many idiosyncrasies is that when I am walking and conversing with someone I can't maintain a straight path. I gradually inch towards them and push them off the sidewalk. I can only manage to maintain a relatively straight path if they walk on my left-hand side, and only if I concentrate some of my mental energy on it.

I really can't manage to walk and talk on the cell phone at the same time either, but I just got my first cell phone about three months ago. I keep it for car emergencies mostly, of which there have been none so far.

Right now I am waiting to go for my daily constitutional with my Dad. I generally like to walk for at least half an hour a day and the sun is about to set on a hot, muggy day. Tomorrow is supposed to be a nicer day weather-wise, less humid I hope.

So I guess I am not a superb multi-tasker, and sometimes I focus on my own agenda too much. I could maybe free myself a bit more if I stop the me focus, and concentrate on someone else for a change... one at a time, whoever I happen to be with. Self-denial and not self-absorbtion is the ticket to a lifetime of walking and talking with God. I can't push him off onto the road, that's for sure!

Some Cheering Mail

I got a thin envelope in the mail today, congratulating me that I made the Dean's Honour List for the Winter 2010 semester. I thought it might be something much more ominous and was pleasantly surprised. I immediately remarked that this summer semester I made the Dean's Failure list, but my family retorted that only I would say something like that. Meanwhile the administrative problem may be solved tomorrow when I go to my campus and talk with the right administrator. I think he has an hour lunch break though so hopefully I can catch him before his lunch. Otherwise patient waiting will be necessary, which as the Wii would phrase it: it "is not my forte."

Confessions of an Imperfect Perfectionist

I hate extreme sports, except watching them on the Olympics and even then I wince. Watching soccer I usually worry about players' potentially game-ending injuries. This makes their constant faking of injuries very painful to watch.

I continually warn my sisters about proper foot wear while they mow our lawn. I have never in my life mowed a lawn. This has more to do with the birth order of my family than it has to do with my delicacy and laziness.

My mom used to affectionately call me Princess Suzanne. This is because I didn't know basic things like which was the washer and which was the dryer, and I could care less.

I have very "selective" hearing. I can tune out entire conversations and also I can respond as if I actually was paying attention and then later deny any knowledge of what the individual tried to communicate.

While I do have a good work ethic, I find I need sufficient time to relax in between bursts of intense activity or I get too keyed up.

I used to get upset about individual multiple choice questions I got wrong. Meanwhile my professors had rarely seen anyone who got that many correct on an introductory course that probably should have been a lower priority.

I sometimes decide I can't do something before I even try it. When forced to try to accomplish said task, I tend to perform it poorly and clumsily, until my mom accuses me of trying to prove myself right. At this point I get upset, but later realize the task was relatively simple and I could have done it after listening to simple instructions and correcting any errors in technique.

I love crocheting and I have crocheted three afghans of good quality which I gave as gifts. I started a fourth, but I don't have enough time to relearn the complex pattern or time to spare to work on it. I'd like to try smaller projects, but I need the right materials.

I used to think Redeemer Administration was bad. But I think Mohawk College/McMaster University takes the cake on this one! Right now I am in the midst of an administrative nightmare, that didn't end before 1700 which means I may wake up from it tomorrow...

I have the capacity to be very mean and cruel to those near and dear to me. I had to apologize to my parents this evening, but they forgave me.

I only have twenty-five more days to enjoy my twenties. I hope to enter my thirties with my dignity intact.

The Duldrums

Sometimes when things stop moving around you long enough for you to get readjusted, your emotions catch up with you. I feel a confused mix of emotion so I can't really analyze it, and probably shouldn't examine it too closely.

I guess maybe it is somewhat similar to how Elijah felt after God's huge triumph over Baal worship. He had been used by God to help wipe out Baal worship, Jezebel was after his head, and he had travelled for forty days only lasting through miraculous food and drink given by an angel at the beginning of his journey. He had already been exhausted at the start, although he did get the chance to sleep for awhile, and by the end he sounded like a petulant child.

He thought he was the only true worshipper left and that he might as well give up. After a dramatic display of God's pyrotechnics, God spoke to Elijah in a still small voice. He told Elijah he was not alone and that there were many heads in Israel who had never bowed to Baal. He also told Elijah to anoint his own successor and also to anoint two kings who would complete the job of destroying the household of Ahab in Samaria.

Living by emotions is not a good way to live. We walk by faith and not by sight. We see through a glass darkly. Actually I am glad God doesn't tell me what I will do in my life, because I probably would be so overwhelmed by all the things I will have to go through, I wouldn't ever move into his purposes again. He may have my life planned, but he only gives me as much as I can handle.

I must simply live each day and accomplish whatever is necessary in that day and watch out for opportunities that I haven't planned or anticipated at all. Every day's troubles are sufficient for itself, so I don't need to borrow trouble from the future or dig it up from the past. Thank God that he cares enough about me to care about all the little details, from the number of hairs on my head to how much money I have in my savings account, and I can always pray to him and tell him exactly how I feel.

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