milne sojourns

New for acupunks, and soup...

2012-02-11T12:27:00.000-08:00

We just found a new acupuncture clinic, Straight to the Point, that seems to have a fairly unique, but commonsense approach---healthy people make healthy communities. To that end, they offer "community acupuncture," at a decent price, right in West Broadway, a part of the city that has been undergoing a revitalization of sorts since we moved to Winnipeg. Although I am sad to no longer consult with my beloved Dr. Shi, the closer location, free parking, flexible appointment times, and good care at half the price will hopefully makes this treatment more sustainable on a long-term basis for us. It's the kind of thing that I've found most beneficial when I go regularly. Chris had his very first acupuncture treatment yesterday! We'll see how it goes. But it makes me happy to live where we do, and have such interesting and somewhat progressively alternative resources available, which is funny, because acupuncture is such an ancient art/science....

I went back for a treatment this morning---trying to quell this bad cold, and give my immune system the boost it needs to kick stupid mono. Bloodwork from my doctor's appointment this week showed the virus still at play in my system. People weren't joking that it takes a long time to run its course. So, I promise no more melodramatic mono blog posts; although my posts in praise of acupuncture may increase...

After my appointment at "the Point" (and a stop by Tall Grass---all the pretty and delicious Valentine treats in full production!) I came home to a steaming pot of my new favourite soup this season. Perfect for a very, very cold day in Winnipeg (somewhere around -30, give or take windchills).

Curried Sweet Potato Coconut Soup (from Mountain Rose Herbs)
(try to use organic ingredients when possible)

1 and 1/2 lb sweet potato, baked and pureed
1 large onion, diced
4 cloves garlic
1/4 cup ginger, finely grated
2 tbsp seseme oil
1 tbsp curry powder
1 tsp cinnamon powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp coriander powder
1/2 tsp cumin powder
6 cups vegetable stock
1 can coconut milk
1 tbsp maple syrup
salt & pepper to taste

Heat oil in post and saute onion, garlic, and ginger until golden brown. Add spices and cook for another minute. Mix in pureed sweet potatoes. Add stock and bring to gentle boil. Lower heat to warm, cover, and cook to let the flavours develop. Puree with a blender. Stir in coconut milk, maple syrup, and heat on low. Season to taste with salt & pepper. Add a few tablespoons of water to thin if needed. Enjoy!

sliding into Friday

2012-02-10T05:10:00.000-08:00

Well, we've made it to Friday, and the compost pile is completely overflowing with mango peels and pits...I've missed the last couple days of work, home sick, balancing rest with childcare...It's a strange feeling, coming back home during the day when I'm usually at work; almost like interrupting an entity, a person, who had other plans until I disturbed them. It reminds me of the "Apartment Song" by the Tragically Hip---"...just what our apartment does when we're not around does not concern us...her clock reinforces its conceit and her mirror checks out other things...the walls stand a little more at ease and her books they chat so expertly and her cups and saucers get some sleep and things get all together neat and at the clicking of the key returns the horrible esthete."

I wish my house tidyed itself while I was gone, but alas, its tendency is rather to exemplify entropy....

I was reminded this week of the various reasons why various people stop by to read this blog at various times. I'm sure you're sure that you're never quite sure what you'll get when you check in. I often feel like I should try to simplify things, and somehow diffuse the melodrama playing out in my head; just stick to facts and happenings, more like: "Last night I cooked pork chops for dinner," or "Ben said the funniest thing the other day..." sort of thing, instead of trying to string together bits of what I've been reading or processing on more emotional and/or existential levels. Of course, it would be an entirely different blog if Chris were posting, but---another alas---it's just not his thing, though I would be the first to subscribe to it....

Anyways, what I appreciate is the interest and care that friends and family convey through the act of checking in, reading, sending us a note or even a call, in response to something I've touched on. And more than anything, your prayers.....Blogging is a unique and ridiculously self-conscious medium. I'm not entirely comfortable with it, but once you start, it's hard to drop. So, for the Milnes at least for now, it's going to be a mixture of sorts, as we skim the surface or our experiences, but every so often, dive down a bit deeper....

"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." ~Frederick Buechner

mid week

2012-02-08T08:22:00.000-08:00

home sick today. inflammed throat, swollen glands, and a few other disconcerting symptoms I'd rather not catalogue...actually, many of the hallmarks of chronic fatigue, which annoys me, because that diagnosis, while so legitimate, is either disregarded as being "just in your head," or is used as a convenient catch-all for when all other possibilities have been ruled out. Anyways, I can only listen to my body, and try to help myself. My doctor may or may not listen tomorrow, as I muster my courage to go in to see him, again. If you think of it, I'd appreciate your prayers. I am weary of consulting doctors with various complaints, with no one seemingly able or willing to help me put the pieces together. My mind could deal with not feeling well, if only my body didn't manifest so many reoccurring and quirky indications that things are not as they should be. If there isn't a name for the imbalance I am experiencing, then it would at least be helpful to have an angle from which to approach things....

"...Even today, after clear and ample evidence of the physical etiology of [chronic fatigue immune dysfunction syndrome], every once and a while a celebrity doctor still appears on my local television station and, with his boyish good looks and charming manner, casually tells his audience that the disease I have is largely the effect of neurosis....It is difficult to describe the effect of being told you are not really ill when you are. The disjuncture between private experience and public image is so severe, you can easily become obsessed with establishing the truth. The degree of discomfort felt so intensely in body and soul at such a fracture could itself be a subject for psychosomatic medicine. As certainly as a kind of epiphany is achieved with naming, a shock of recognition that can be physically felt, so also an equally intense and negative shock is experienced with misnaming. It is a sinking feeling, something like missing a train for a journey that is not at all casual. You are left hanging. Disoriented. Strangely lonely. Though this will not be a peaceful solitude. You will be followed into your privacy by phantoms of rejection and even ridicule for what your body continues to know. The sound of these phantoms may be inaudible, but it will be distracting enough to erase your own voice, to quell any attempt to articulate even for yourself what it is you experience. And this is a serious loss because it is this voice, the intelligent and observing companion to feeling, that dignifies even the worst misery." - Susan Griffin, from What Her Body Thought: A Journey Into the Shadows

What I don't want is to loose my voice, my self-advocacy. My health isn't even the point---it is something more essential at stake---as Griffin describes, the "powerful need to be known and understood as I really am." Validation. And the very strong desire, compulsion even, borrowing Griffin's metaphor: to not miss the train for the journey that is my life and who I am supposed to be, fully living it. It is the need to fight against the phantom distractions, and to fight with steel resistance, against being waylaid---by trauma, fear, symptoms, sickness, and all the other nightmarish ingredients that threaten to mix.

My prayer is for sufficient grace---for a "way out," not an escape or evacuation, but the actual resources and provisions my family and I need "so that we may be able to endure." (reflecting on 1 Corinthians 10:12-14)

"...We pray that you'll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul---not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us." - from Colossians 1 in the Message

"Mid week"...kind of a mid week crisis, I guess. Just threading some thoughts together from the last few days. Perhaps heavy reading, but hopefully also encouraging...while my body is wavering, my soul is bolstered...

sweet treat

2012-02-06T05:53:00.000-08:00

Our shopping trip to the Superstore on Friday yielded an unexpected boon---shoppers with grocery bills over a certain amount received a free case of mangos. Not exactly local produce (which we strive for as much as possible) especially for Winnipeg in February, but a welcome treat.
"What are you going to do with all those mangos?" asked Chris, skeptically scanning the crate I was cradelling gently. It was one of those questions that merited a blank stare, before my response: "It doesn't matter. They're free!"

One of the biggest disappointments is cutting into a mango that's not ripe enough to eat. I always seem to jump the gun in my impatience to consume the juicy fruit, and end up throwing away a perfectly good mango that just needed one more day to soften. I do the same with avocados. Bad form! So, upon returning home from the store, I quickly set up a "mango rotation system" for the week---bulk mango storage in fridge; 2 mangos slowly ripening in fruit basket on counter; 2 mangoes in brown bag with apples for expedited ripening, which will be first on the breakfast plate. Even with this system, it is likely that several mangos will ripen simultaneously, by around Friday, I'm guessing; which will then necessitate drastic measures---the culmination of our week of mangos, gorging ourselves on the remaining fruit, juice dripping down our arms and chins in one sticky, glorious mess.

Here's to mangos and the busy week ahead!...

some of Ben's creations...

2012-02-04T07:06:00.000-08:00

solidarity...

2012-02-03T05:59:00.000-08:00

From our friend Lindsey...

"The news reaching us each day...of other sudden deaths and serious health complications affecting more and more people who are very close to our hearts...We have felt more deeply than I can articulate for the ones left grieving.

I was out briefly one afternoon, to open up the opportunity of some fresh air reviving me. The burdens for these other dear ones were heavy; we live so close to it all ourselves, in our situation, that we choose to not shut ourselves off from the tailspins of others but rather enter into a kind of quiet but purposeful solidarity with it." - Lindsey Yeskiw, Feb. 2

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/emilyy

Credo

2012-02-02T05:27:00.000-08:00

We don't get out much, but when we heard Kjartan Sveinsson (from Sigur Ros) was premiering his choral piece, Credo, as part of the Icelandia concert at the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra's New Music Festival, there was no question to go or not. "Forget everything you know about music," suggested Matthew Patton, WSO Artistic Associate, "and just listen."

beautiful....soul-stirringly, profoundly beautiful, beyond words...tears immediately streaming at the first sound of the strings.....tapping into deep, internal places, where few elements ever reach....

It's one thing to like music and listen to and appreciate music---at home on the stereo, or porting around an ipod, or the constant buzz of the radio in the car---the daily soundtrack to life.....It's a totally different experience to be in the room where the instruments are vibrating, soundwaves emanating and filling the space, moving the air around you and touching your whole body....

"I first heard Sigur Ros over ten years ago," writes Matthew Patton in his festival greetings. "Listening, I felt I had been searching for this music my whole life and I knew it within a few seconds. A music where beauty and simplicity co-existed with absence and imperfection and an ecstatic emotional quality swept over everything and absolutely nothing else in the world mattered or ever mattered...." He goes on to cite various experiences he's had traveling in Iceland, meeting musicians and artists, being there during an earthquake, and at one point even describing someone frying bacon to make a soup. "None of this has anything at all to do with music," he continues, "and that's precisely the point I wish to make: interesting people make interesting music. There are big problems in the classical music world, at least what's left of it. A paradigm shift is taking place. These [referring to the festival participants] are a few of the composers that are bringing it back to life and giving it a deeper, more profound emotional narrative. People forget that music is first and foremost an experience---there is never anything to 'get.' Stop reading now and go and listen"

In the case of Sveinsson's Credo, words truly fail to describe....it taps into and stirs up a profoundly spiritual space, with a healing quality that will be reverberating through me for some time....

My only disappointment was that Kjartan couldn't be in attendance last evening. He was at home babysitting while his wife tours with the Icelandic quartet Amiina. And this post would be remiss without a "thank-you!" to our friend Dustin, for hanging out with Ben (and reading Richard Scarry's "Cars, Trucks, and Things that Go" no less than 3 times!)

CBC recorded the evening (the Icelandia concert, that is, not Richard Scarry...) which included pieces from Nico Muhly, Daniel Bjarnason, and Valgeir Sigurdsson (the first movement of his Dreamland sequence, entitled Grylukvaedi, totally rocked!), and will have it listed in their "Concert on Demand" series.

For now, we found Credo at this link.

Listen at an appropriate moment, and breathe deep....

the Art of Medincine

2012-01-28T08:25:00.000-08:00

Marcella Pick is one of the founders of the Women to Women Healthcare Clinic, and I really appreciated her following blog, the Art of Medicine. She has some other fantastic blogs as well, on going gluten-free, how our thinking affects our health, etc. I appreciate her integrated approach to women's health issues. It's hard to get good information you can trust out there....

thoughts from the week

2012-01-27T05:15:00.000-08:00

ipads and buttery popcorn are not a wise combination....

Good Friday morning. I wonder where today finds you....Fresh out of bed, shuffling over to the stove to turn on the kettle, a glance out the window at the still-dark street....Does a flood of thoughts start rippling through your mind---"what to make for breakfast? what clothes are clean? when can you get a load of laundry done? do you need to stop for gas on the way in to work? don't forget to send that email you forgot yesterday; need to top up on washer fluid, too; and what's in the freezer that can be thawed for dinner?" etc., etc., a never-ending river of tasks and tedium, compelling constant movement and busyness, before the sun has even shown her face....

Or is there time for pause. A deep breath. A stretch for every limb, to feel themselves again and get the blood flowing. And then pause again. Deep breath. Standing in the dimlit kitchen, with cupped hands to receive the gift of a new day, new mercies the heart can't even articulate, but slowly drinks in, receives with gratitude...

"...How are we going to be simple with the simplicity of Jesus? By receiving His Spirit, recognizing and relying on Him, obeying Him as He brings the word of God, and life will become amazingly simple...Every time we have gone back in spiritual communion it has been because...we have allowed the cares of this world to come in, and have forgotten the 'much more' of our Heavenly Father...'Take no thought for your life.'...Beware of allowing the thought that this statement is made by One who does not understand our particular circumstances. Jesus Christ knows our circumstances better than we do, and He says we must not think about these things so as to make them the one concern of our life....'Be anxious for nothing...." - Oswald Chambers, from Jan. 26th and 27th readings

"...What I am trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so pre-occupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving....Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes." from Matthew 6 in the Message

"What am I going to do with what's become of me?"

2012-01-21T07:59:00.000-08:00

My approach to blogging has always been that something is better than nothing. The blog morphs between newsy updates on Milne happenings, to more, seemingly random bits and pieces of things---poetry, quotes, miscelleany---that I think are interesting, or hope may resonate in some way. I rarely have enough time (a leisurely chunk of 2 to 3 hours would be wonderful!) to offer adequate explanation for most of my posts; but that's when the "something is better than nothing" approach kicks in. There have been long stretches of silence on the milne blog, when I start getting concerned emails from friends to the affect of "where are you?" They are usually justified in suspecting my silence equals a bad head space....Likewise, a more prolific output (as of late) usually means I'm feeling my literary oats, as it were....Suffice to say, the blog is a only a sketch, of sorts, offering both updates and other thoughts, that serve as "You are Here" markers on the Milne map. Posts are a bit like the famous face/vase illusion my friend Dustin reminded me of the other evening (at a dinner at, of all places, the Swiss Chalet!), where people who focus on the centre see a vase, while those who focus on the edges see faces...

I post and refer to poetry, quotes, scripture, even news reports and other stories, that are framing my perspective at the moment. Which leads me, this Saturday morning, as I find myself with a rare stretch of time (Ben was up early, I made waffles, everyone has full tummies and time to play...)to further reflect on "profound alteration," and link a few of my recent posts together in hopefully a more cohesive way....

I heard the most amazing radio program the other morning, driving in to work, listening to the CBC's morning show, the Current. It was a feature on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and how about 15-20% of people who experience a traumatic event develop this debilitating condition. It talked about the various types of trauma that can trigger PTSD (as diverse as the people who experience trauma), and how it is so little understood or properly treated in the medical system. One general criteria is that the trauma must be something that confronts a person with death---either their own or of a loved one. And how overwhelming that is. But what I appreciated most about the conversation was how it moved from talking about the triggers or symptoms of PTSD---things on a physical level---to a more, almost existential level. The main woman being interviewed explained how all she wanted to do was get back to being the person she was before her trauma (a major traffic accident), but that it was only through grieving the loss of who she was, that she was able to start healing and transform her experience into something that made her a more compassionate, thoughtful, and resilient human being. One of the doctors described trauma as a loss of innocence. The question, he explained, for the person who is healing from trauma is "What am I going to do with what's become of me?" which almost made me have to stop the car and cry. That's it! That has been the recurring theme in what I've been reading and working through in the past 3 years. It was a prayer my friend Phil Wright prayed for me right after Chris' seizure and diagnosis, that God would restore what had been lost. And it was a powerful concept I encountered in Peter Levine's book, Waking the Tiger: "In losing our innocence, we can gain wisdom, and in the process of gaining wisdom, we gain a new innocence."

I have not been diagnosed with, nor ever claimed to have PTSD, but my experience is consistent with trauma and loss. What I am finding, three years out, is that God is weaving together really amazing sources---conversations, prayers, books, poetry---to carry me through the healing process and continue to affirm His keeping me. It's the whole of everything He's doing, by His mercy, moving and transforming on deep levels, beyond the fragments I try to string together on the surface...."The renegotiation of trauma is an inherently mythic-poetic-heroic journey...the mastery of trauma is a heroic journey that will have moments of creative brilliance, profound learning, and periods of hard, tedious work." - Levine

So, when I read, for example, "To Build a Swing" by the sufi poet Hafiz, I am hearing it through this filter. "You have all the ingredients to turn your life into a nightmare"---fear, anxiety, stress, panic. I have mixed them too often in the past couple of years, and it's wrecked me. What I am learning is a new language---a prophetic imagination---to perceive, receive, and practice an alternative to that nightmare---joy, love, patience, grace, hope. That sounds like more fun, for sure.

And in the expression of our struggles, Chris and I have just tried to be true and honest to the journey we didn't expect to be taking.

A blog like this can seem like a bit much. So, it's probably a good thing that I don't often have time to commit to one.
Please, if you are able, give a listen to the Current program on PTSD---it's well done and informative. At the very least, I hope there are some resources here for those who need them, and offer thoughts for further reflection.

I am grateful.

kelly

profound alteration...

2012-01-20T05:10:00.000-08:00

"...There are strands of the call of God providentially at work for us which we recognize and no one else does. It is the threading of God's voice to us in some particular matter...We have to keep that profound relationship between our souls and God....Isaiah's soul was so attuned to God by the tremendous crisis he had gone through, that he recorded the call of God to his amazed soul....To be brought into the zone of the call of God is to be profoundly altered."
- Oswald Chambers (from 16 January reading, My Utmost for His Highest)

the woman for whom the city stopped

2012-01-19T14:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday evening was the worst traffic I have driven in since moving out of the Golden Horseshoe and away from the 400 highway system. Road conditions were probably some of the worst I have experienced in my life. The streets were like skating rinks, as Winnipeg plunges deeper into the cold snap that is sweeping the prairies. But more than treacherous conditions, the issue was a major accident that happened on the Disraeli Bridge, where the young driver of an suv lost control, crashed through the guardrail, plunging 30 ft.

I drive over the Disraeli every day, and had driven it 3 times yesterday---the last time just 2 hours before this accident. One of the perculiarities of Winnipeg is how the roads and routes are dictated by the rivers. Unlike a city with a neat gridwork of streets and multiple ways to get from one place to another, here there are a limited number of ways to get across town. A commute that normally takes me 20 minutes, took an hour and a half; thousands of people inching along in their vehicles, on a terrain that looked as frozen as the surface of the moon, listening to the constant stream of traffic updates on the radio, with a singular thought on our minds---this sucks, but at least we'll get home safe and sound. The entire city core was at a virtual standstill, the plight of a young woman heavy on our hearts. The poignant thing was my route took me directly past the hospital wherein she was fighting for her life. She didn't make it.

Sobering. Somber-ing. And so wonderful to come home to a snug house, with candles lit, a stew ready, and Chris and Ben happy to greet me.

Take it easy and stay safe out there.

To Build a Swing

2012-01-18T05:47:00.000-08:00

by Hafiz (trans. Ladinsky)

You carry
all the ingredients
to turn your life into a nightmare---
Don't mix them!

You have all the genius
to build a swing in your backyard
for God.

That sounds
like a hell of a lot more fun.
Let's start laughing, drawing blueprints,
gathering our talented friends.

I will help you
with my divine lyre and drum.

Hafiz
will sing a thousand words
you can take into your hands,
like golden saws,
silver hammers,
polished teakwood,
strong silk rope.

You carry all the ingredients
to turn your existence into joy,

mix them,
mix them!

May we help eachother build swings today....

Sunday afternoon

2012-01-15T12:05:00.000-08:00

Well, greetings on the other side of the weekend...Sunday afternoon...there's lots of things I should/could be doing: sorting the laundry, cleaning a very lived-in house, going for a walk, etc. etc., but I find more and more that I appreciate opportunities to just sit and rest, especially before launching into another work/school week. The concept of sabbath makes sense. I think I overstepped my limits a bit last week, and have been feeling more "mono-ish" the last couple of days; which, more than anything, strangely enough, has meant nursing a particularly sensitive spleen.

So, just sitting on the couch, reading a lovely bit of escapist lit: Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James I can definitely see how British murder mysteries (Miss Marple, Poirot, Inspector Lewis) can become so absorbing, if not addicting---that stalwart English sensibility and sense of propriety even in the face of ghastly dealings. I don't claim to be a Jane Austen expert or even a huge fan, but James nails her style perfectly. Very enjoyable, and an ideal weekend chill book.

Now, I think it's time for more tea....

Give thanks for Friday

2012-01-13T18:02:00.000-08:00

whew!...glad to reach the end of a busy, full week, and sit down to a nice chicken supper with the family....The temperatures plummeted in Winnipeg this week---back to the deep freeze, the extra time to start and warm the car, bundle up, and take that first gasp of air when leaving the house in the morning....Back to the school routine---Ben reunited with best friends Rhys and "Sheffie" (whose real name is Sheppard, but they already all have nicknames for eachother and I'm sure secret handshakes as well!) Little boys are great. I've often wondered how different our world would be with a wee girl---full of pink and princessess and ponies and dresses. Of course she'd play legos and trucks too (or not, who can say), just like Ben swaddles his puppies and tucks them into bed like a good "puppy mommy." But I suspect there would be less smash ups ("Mom, come look at this big car crash!" he yells, standing over a pile of toys in the bedroom) and definitely less wrestling in our house. But who knows?

Actually, I find that it's the people who don't know me very well who ask if Chris and I plan on having more children. It's probably one of the most personal questions one could ask, and is always completely inappropriate. Which is why I don't ask or hint about it with any of the couples I know who don't have kids. And why I reserve a certain look of incredulity for the rare situations when I am asked if we are going to have another. My answer is that I had a strange and inexplicable sense when I was pregnant that I should enjoy the experience as fully as I could, because it may be the only time. And I've always been okay with that; even as I admire my friends with large families, and think that Benji would be an extraodinarily amazing big brother. Every family has their own rhythm, and ours may be small, but I like us....

Okay, that was a bit of a diversion. That's what happens when I sit down and blog all stream of consciousness....I've been making an extra effort to rise earlier in the mornings---easing my way into it---after having been inspired by my friend Louise, a beautiful woman, mother of 3, who's up way earlier than I could ever rouse, to have a coffee and breakfast with her husband, carving a corner of solace for herself to start the day. I am trying. It's been a pretty rough go, and I blame the mono. But, I am finding that when I do get up, put the kettle on, light a candle at the table and sit with my journal, it has been a very rich and rewarding time. Profound, actually. A chance for God to weave together some of the loose threads I've been struggling with, to bring clarity and a new perspective on things. In particular, I have picked up Walter Brueggemann's The Prophetic Imagination again. I will finish it this time, except that every other line stops me in my tracks, and sends me scrambling to the scriptures and other sources with new epiphanies, new ways of seeing and reading some of my most-loved pieces.

For example, he describes the title of his book by saying, "...I am sure, nonetheless, that the joining of 'prophetic' to 'imagination' leads inescapably in an artistic direction in which truth is told in a way and at an angle that assures it will not be readily co-opted or domesticated by hegemonic interpretive power." (italics mine for emphasis). For Brueggemann, the role of the prophet is to give utterance to an alternative (divine-inspired)reality/way of being, for people who are oppressed by the limited and exploitive powers of their culture (ie. culture of fear, culture of consumption, etc.) And often the most effective and profound way to do that is through art.

Which led me immediately and with great joy to one of my favourite poems by Emily Dickinson, the master of the ambiguous and prophetic word.

(1129)
Tell all Truth but tell it slant---
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind---

Too much of a good thing all at once is unbearable. Or, there are truths I am not ready to hear or experience fully at this moment, that God portions out as I am able to receive. The prophet, or the artist, is able to shed a bit of light on the truth, "tell it slant," in a way that eases us into a better, more grace-filled understanding; but not in a way that can be boxed up and labelled, and mass-marketed by a corporation.

Anyways, it's these kind of connections and associations---bringing together bits of my past life as a literature major, with my present life on the frozen prairie---that become inspirations to get me out of my warm bed in the dark morning.

Subtlety (1998)

Dazzle me gradually
stun me by degrees---
winning me under
the guise of ease

Acquaint me informally,
casually befriend---
causing our love and
our friendship to blend

At once---I'd be blinded---
too much of the Sun---
a river of light when
I just need but one

single cupful of you
poured timely and slow---
cascading like light
slants through my window

2012-01-12T05:37:00.000-08:00

What Are Years?
by Marianne Moore

What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe. And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt, --
dumbly calling, deafly listening--that
in misfortune, even death,
encourages others
and in its defeat, stirs

the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
accedes to mortality
and in his imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
in its surrendering
finds its continuing.

So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
grown taller as he sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
This is mortality,
this is eternity.

on the cusp

2012-01-07T13:16:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have a sense of being at the beginning of something---on the cusp, of some transition or newness---but stand, unsure what the stirrings may signal, at a loss at how to articulate?...I don't know if it's due to the advent of a new year; having recently attended a funeral; or even just spending quality down time with my family and having a chance to rest over the holidays. But that feeling has come and it disquiets the soul....Could it even be the weird weather?---balmy, near record temperatures in Winnipeg (7 degrees celsius in January!), with folks walking around on bare sidewalks wearing light jackets and big smiles. A strange southern air brings disconcerting, almost spring-like stirrings---a mixture of angst and longing, wistfulness and hope. The ice melts; creative juices start flowing, while the hands, seeking beauty, have yet to land upon a medium---should they pick up a pen and dare to write? ply new yarn and tackle a knitting project? play with paints? or pause in prayer?

It calls me back to one of my favourite passages from Oswald Chambers, which I've always interpreted as a prophetic call to the artist....

"If you cannot express yourself on any subject, struggle until you can. If you do not, someone will be the poorer all the days of his/her life. Struggle to re-express some truth of God to yourself, and God will use that expression to someone else....You must struggle to get expression experimentally, then there will come a time when that expression will become the very wine of strengthening to someone else; but if you say lazily---'I am not going to struggle to express this thing for myself, I will borrow what I say,' the expression will not only be of no use to you, but of no use to anyone. Try to state to yourself what you feel implicitly to be God's truth, and you give God a chance to pass it on to someone else through you....The author [or artist] who benefits you most is not the one who tells you something you did not know before, but the one who gives expression to the truth that has been dumbly struggling in you for utterance." (from My Utmost for His Highest, December 15th)

So often I have the urge to write or create, but don't know where to begin. It's difficult enough to find a spare moment to sit and reflect; far easier to keep busy and distracted from the "big ideas" and urges, even the eternal matters that seem to frame the furthest peripharies of my perception. It's overwhelming and I'm lazy. I will borrow other artist's hardwon beauty and/or expression---hang their paintings on my wall; transcribe their lines of poetry in my journal. It seems rather presumptuous that anyone would be the poorer if I declined the struggle of expression. Though I am glad that Chambers did not. In his attempt to articulate God's truth to his own mind, he produced his lifework---a daily devotional that has benefited generations of truthseekers, for "those who take their relationship with God seriously," Chamber's wife once observed.

Perhaps I avoid the struggle because I fear any effort will come naught---that rising early to write, or sitting doodling with paints, will only amount to a waste of time, like that sweater I knit with the skewed collar, or that poem with the jarring lines that just won't come together.

But, if I don't ever begin, I will never know what may be.....

job opening

2012-01-04T10:14:00.000-08:00

Well, this is an odd post, but yes, Manitoba Pioneer Camp is looking for a new Executive Director. Anyone interested in working at a remote wilderness canoe-tripping children's camp?

Benji tries skiing

2012-01-02T18:47:00.000-08:00

a few photos from the weekend....unfortunately the camera batteries died just after the first morning...

Lacing up...

Benji on skis....

Learning to get back up....

Help from the pros....

Ben's preferred mode of winter transportation.....

bonjour 2012

2012-01-02T08:15:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Winnipeg in 2012!

We just returned from a visit with our friends the Naldersmiths, who own 80 acres in the Turtle Mountains just south of Boissevain. Highlights include a late night lantern walk through their trails, Ben trying skis for the first time, great conversation, and late night tobogganing at Adam's lake on New Year's eve. It was refreshing to be in the country, and to spend such a memorable time with friends to welcome the new year.

Interestingly, I'll be starting the new year by attending a funeral tomorrow---always puts things in perspective. The mother-in-law of my dear friend Leni from the bakery passed away on Boxing day after a difficult year with various illnesses. It's the kind of situation where I never met her mother-in-law, but it's no question to go and just be present with Leni and Dave at this time. Interesting to reflect on who might attend a funeral for what reasons. I think it can be as much about embracing life and relationships "in the now" as it is for remembering and honouring the person who has passed.

Our friend Lindsey posted the following poem on her blog. Some of the lines really resonated this morning, and I thought it may resonate with others as well as we begin a new year, wild and amazed.....

"Prayer of New Beginnings" by Ted Loder

"God of history and of my heart,
so much has happened during these whirlwind days;
I've known death and birth;
I've been brave and scared;
I've hurt, I've helped;
I've been honest, I've lied;
I've destroyed, I've created;
I've been with people, I've been lonely;
I've been loyal, I've betrayed;
I've decided, I've waffled;
I've laughed and I've cried.
You know my frail heart and my frayed history ~
and now another day begins!

Oh, God!!
Help me to believe in beginnings
and in my beginning again,
no matter how often I have failed before.
Help me to make beginnings;
to begin going out of my weary mind
into fresh dreams,
daring to make my own bold tracks
in the land of now;
to begin forgiving,
that I might experience mercy;
to begin questioning the unquestionable,
that I may know truth;
to begin disciplining,
that I might create beauty;
to begin sacrificing,
that I might accomplish justice;
to begin risking,
that I might make peace;
to begin loving,
that I might realise joy.

Help me to be a beginning for others,
to be a singer to the songless,
a storyteller to the aimless,
a befriender of the friendless;
to become a beginning of hope for the despairing,
of assurance for the doubting,
of reconciliation for the divided;
to become a beginning of freedom for the oppressed,
of comfort for the sorrowing,
of friendship for the forgotten;
to become a beginning of beauty for the forlorn,
of sweetness for the soured,
of gentleness for the angry,
of wholeness for the broken,
of peace for the frightened and violated
of the earth.

Help me to believe in beginnings,
to make a beginning,
to be a beginning,
so that I may not just grow old,
but grow new
each day of this wild, amazing life
You call me to live
with the passion of Jesus Christ."

The reason for the black out...

2011-12-29T11:13:00.000-08:00

We found out the reason for last night's power outage on the news this morning: check out the story from cbc.

This was just a couple blocks from our house. Reportedly no one was hurt.

time in between

2011-12-28T19:06:00.000-08:00

Greetings from the weird span of time that falls between Christmas and New Years....Things have been super quiet and super chill in the Milne residence this week (figuratively and literally---the temperature in Winnipeg has finally fallen back into seasonal ranges). We opened presents with Chris' mom & Doug on Christmas eve this year, and then had a very informal drop-in time at our church on Christmas day. Otherwise, we've just been enjoying the chance to rest: there's been lots of comfort food, hot baths, and walks around the block; lots of setting up of Ben's new train set and playing legos; some sleeping in, and even a few naps. It's also been the perfect time for me to start a new knitting project---I'm getting an early start on a sweater vest for Ben's birthday in March. Just what every 5 year old wants, I'm sure.....

So, while I was typing this blog, the power went out on our street. I don't usually realize how much electricity we are consuming, until things are pitch black and dead quiet in an instant. We had the dishwasher, the dryer, several lights, and the computers on, and then nothing. It's kind of cool and freaky when that happens. Ben had to go around and try each light switch to make sure they didn't work. It took him a while to process things, but we explained the city workers were fixing the problem, and it was fun to eat our bedtime snacks by candle light. We learned our lesson last year, when the power went out and we were short on candles. I have made sure we are well stocked. Now, all I need is a kettle that works without power, so I can still always make tea....or just put a fire pit in the backyard.

Thanks for checking in on us. Merry Christmas and a most happy and peaceful New Years to all.

family portrait

2011-12-20T13:15:00.000-08:00

All dressed up for a formal dinner on our recent family vacation.

Spreading the word, chasing the chill....

2011-12-19T05:43:00.000-08:00

the following is from havingfunknitting's ravelry project entitled "Chase the Chill in Winnipeg." I wish I had of known about this beforehand, but I'm going to start knitting for next year.....

"Chase the Chill is a loose coalition of stitchers and groups who independently make scarves and then come together to paint the town with yarn.

December 17th, 2011 was Winnipeg’s first graffiti/yarn bombing event in Old Market Square. Chase the Chill distributes scarves in public places so that those in need—regardless of income and without any qualifiers—can help themselves.

Chase the Chill in Winnipeg is on facebook. Art, charity, and yarn bombing: An annual happening with a cause! And these are some of the scarves that were contributed for this event.

42 scarves were tied to trees, fences and poles; all were chosen by passers by within hours!"

update

2011-12-17T17:40:00.000-08:00

"We can't treat what we can't see," was the verdict from Dr. Schroeder, Chris' oncologist, at our Friday Cancer Care appointment. The MRI report showed "no change," from Chris' previous scan; which means that the radiologist still notes a small nodule in one slice of the scan (slices are taken at 3mm intervals), but "for the life of me, I can't see it" Dr. Schroeder shrugged. He's not being nonchalant or dismissive, just telling it as he sees it. And the great thing is that it's not just his eyes: the collective known as Brain Tumour clinic---all the oncologists and neurosurgeons at the table---concur. If there is something, they wouldn't be able to find it. "So don't worry," he advised, to which Chris responded "Right, except it's hard not to worry about something in your brain." The old curmudgeon agreed. He never fails to disappoint, dealing with the "dreary business" (his words) of brain tumors with sarcastic aplomb; prompting me to ask why he was even in this line of work. "Because they told me to do it," he responded, referring, I assume, to the higher-ups in the somewhat serpentine and intriguing medical hierarchy.

So, neither wonderful nor discouraging news---we'll take it, I guess. Chris' appointments have been bumped back to every 3 months, and we'll continue to try and live as healthy and mindful as we can. And prayerful---thanks to everyone who has been thinking of us the last couple of days, and praying for Chris and our family.

I am thankful to be entering such a restful season, coming off an excellent and relaxing vacation, and anticipating some time off between Christmas and New Years---the kind of time that feels a bit like an extended weekend. I love weekends! I love running errands and puttering around, and realizing at some point in the late afternoon that I still have my pyjamas on :) We all had naps this afternoon, and then made a big, fatty pizza (gluten-free, sigh) for dinner and hunkered down to watch Hockey Night in Canada.

That's all for now. Have a good weekend!

the potage

2011-12-13T16:57:00.000-08:00

I am rediscovering the joys of my slow cooker! I rise a bit earlier in the morning, assemble a small bit of meat; cut a large potato, sweet potato, a few carrots into chunks; chop an onion, a handful of mushrooms; throw all in the basin, and then douse liberally in broth, Bragg's soy, and a generous cupful of red wine. Add thyme, salt & pepper, then replace the lid to let simmer for the day. Coming home is a thrill---the smell of supper awaiting. All it takes is a quick salad and loaf of bread, splurge on some olives, and viola!---the potage is complete---a truly superb meal.

It reminded Chris of a passage he'd read in George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones (yes, Chris is slogging through Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series---escapism literature at it's finest, he assures me), where in the villages "there were pot-shops along the alleys where huge tubs of stew had been simmering for years, and you could trade half your bird for a heel of yesterday's bread and a 'bowl o' brown,' and they'd even stick the other half in the fire and crisp it up for you, so long as you plucked the feathers yourself....the brown wasn't so bad. It usually had barley in it, and chunks of carrot and onion and turnip, and sometimes even apple...."

A potage on the hearth all winter---bon appetit!

Definitely back to reality

2011-12-13T08:09:00.000-08:00

It's cold in Winnipeg. Not a lot of snow, but chilling. We have definitely returned from our vacation down south, back to the icy, grey landscape of home. No palm trees waving by the shores of turquoise waters... That said, nothing quite beats the feeling of sitting down in your house for the first time in a while, with a hot cup of tea, to enjoy the silence of post-travel (which, despite my aversion to flying, went very well).

And the post-vacation blues: our email in-boxes are over-stuffed, and it will take a few days to get back into the work mentality. Even the car engine light came on yesterday, to remind us we were over-due for servicing. Welcome home.

Of more concern, I returned home from our trip with swollen tonsils, and just heard back from the doctor that I have tested positive for mononucleosis. Which is why I am blogging this morning instead of dealing with said over-abundant emails. I would appreciate your prayers as I navigate re-entry while combating this pesky virus. I'm swollen, tired, and the more I obsess about it, the more my spleen hurts. Ben and Chris have also been exposed to mono, so I would be grateful if you could keep their health in mind as well.

Home and back to other realities: Chris had an MRI last night and we'll be back in Cancer Care this Friday for an update. We are a little more tense, as per our previous visit, but I still have a strange sense that we are being paced (as in, there is a rhythm, not from ourselves, for us to hear and move towards) and that God is creating a space for us, even this day, to experience more of His love. I write this, mainly because I don't want this blog to be heavy or depressing, but also because I am learning how He builds bridges through fear, that I can trust to walk on.

I'll check back later. thanks

back to reality...almost

2011-12-05T10:28:00.000-08:00

Well, I learned this past week that there is nothing like a cruise vacation to beat any stress, though these were some of the roughest seas we had ever sailed, and I still have moments when my head feels like it is listing from side to side....Very relaxing, and great to be together with the family. Ben loved the pool and the ocean. Just wanted to check in and post a photo. Here is Ben in old San Juan, with 2 cruise ships in the port behind him. More stories to follow...

Further anonymous thoughtfulness...

2011-11-23T05:03:00.000-08:00

I experienced another unspoken courtesy amongst strangers this week---the exchange of paid parking passes. The meter in the lot at my doctor's office requires full payment for 2 hour time blocks. I was just in to the lab for a quick test, and when finished, camped out briefly by the meter to present a fully paid pass to the next person. It's happened to me before, too, and it's just another random act of courtesy and kindness that makes my day, whether I'm on the receiving or giving end of the exchange.

We're in the midst of a busy week. Full days at school and work, while packing to leave tomorrow for a 2 week trip down south. We are joining my parents, sister, brother and future-sister-in-law for a cruise and then a visit in Georgia. This trip is an early Christmas present and welcome reprieve from the Winnipeg winter. I'm the kind of person who makes a long list of "everything that needs to be done before I leave," because, yes, I will be sitting poolside on the Eurodam and suddenly remember that I forgot to take the compost out. Ben is super excited about the "big boat" he's going to ride on---can't quite figure out how it accommodates an elevator, but already has plans to spend lots of time in the onboard playroom.

I'll try and check in and give an update. I predict photos of palm trees and white sand beaches....

lights

2011-11-18T13:28:00.000-08:00

lost mitten protocol

2011-11-14T10:01:00.000-08:00

Well, despite my best efforts, we recently experienced the archetypal Canadian kid conundrum---that of the lost mitten. This post can be considered as an addendum to my previous musings on the plight of mittens; this time highlighting the appropriate thing to do in this all-too-common winter scenario. We were not sure where exactly the mitten had gone astray---not only the mitt, but the clever clip I had purchased to secure the mitt to Ben's jacket. Both gone, and a thorough search of the car and house had come to naught. So sad, and of course, we have mittens waiting in the ranks to replace the lost soul; but it was a good mitt and clever clip, so I was annoyed in that particular way when there's nothing I can do about something.

Imagine, then, my joy, when on a walk to the store this morning, mid-way down our block, I happened to catch out of the corner of my eye, a snow-dusted mitten hanging from a fence in someone's front yard. Lo and behold, it was Ben's mitten, clip attached! And much rejoicing ensued, due to a stranger's thoughtfulness in retrieving the mitt and placing it in such a conspicuous sight, in hopes to reunite it with it's owner.

I've seen this before, lone gloves and mittens perched forlornly on fences in the Wolseley neighbourhood and elsewhere, because this is the unspoken protocol: when you find a mitten or glove (or hat or scarf, sunglasses, etc.) please assume said item was carelessly lost, but is surely missed. It is very helpful to place the item at a higher plane of vision, as least so it doesn't get soiled or trampled underfoot. It is likely the owner will retrace their steps and be thrilled to discover and reclaim their mitten with much gladness.

Keep your mitts close today.

Kelly

grub in the bok choy

2011-11-10T17:03:00.000-08:00

This morning, stumbling out of bed and shuffling to the kitchen, I decided on a breakfast of a poached egg on an English muffin (gluten-free, sigh), with a side of lovely steamed bok choy from our organic fresh box. The bok choy looked perfect on the outside, but as I peeled back the layers of green, it became apparent something had been nibbling inside. Sure enough, under the next leaf, there he was!---a sizable fellow, very much alive and happily ensconced in the middle of the bok choy. "Good morning, Kelly!" he greeted me with a benevolent smile (as you can see in photo #2). "Good morning, Mr. Grub," I replied, amused. But he had, unfortunately, rendered the bok choy somewhat unappetizing, for human consumption at least. I'm sure he was disappointed to have his delicious organic breakfast interupted. I stuck to a plain poached egg on a muffin....

Waylaid

2011-11-10T00:04:00.000-08:00

This blog will just barely touch on some of the inner turbulence of the last couple days, but it is an attempt nonetheless....Yes, it is 1:23am in the morning, and no, I am not a night owl. I've been to sleep, only to waken in the wee hours, with chest pains and sensations that disconcert and rattle me to the core in the darkness....It seems like everywhere I've turned in the last couple days, I've been met with terrifying stories, in the news and personal realm---Eric Lamaze's fine thoroughbred, Hicksted, suddenly collapsing of heart failure in the middle of the ring; other stories of young people dying suddenly, etc., etc., and stuff like that just wrecks me, wrecks havoc on my precarious sense of health and well-being.

The crappy thing about it was I was feeling so well until this past weekend---really encouraged and not so distracted by or hypervigilent about every ache and pain and normal quirk. But this "relapse" has thrown me, and I'm reeling through the past days trying to regain footing and peace of mind....In my heart, I feel waylaid. Once upon a time, I used to think I had certain gifts and that there was a trajectory of success and laurels in the future. Maybe I would write; maybe speak; maybe set out on a certain career, whatever vague conception of greatness or delusions of grandeur we hold out for ourselves in our minds...But the past couple of years has sidelined, if not erased, any grand schemes or notions. I've been just trying to cope, to get by, to hunker down and be okay. A good day has no chest pains and no questionable MRI scans.

But, as this weird journey goes, God seems to still be traveling with us, in ways I find I can't express that won't sound trivial or trite. The very last thing I want to do is spiritualize. But, testifying---that is different. All I can say is, "this is what I am experiencing, however strange or nonsensical," even if that involves God's inexplicable presence, His keeping....

The first sign is my mother-in-law's suggestion of the following book: One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voscamp. To be honest, I really don't like her writing; too much passive voice and what I feel are contrived descriptions; but the poignancy of her words outweighs the over-effluent style, if that makes sense. Anyways, I need to be reading it right now, even more than The Thyroid Solution, (which is also revolutionary to me right now---if anything, I hope people who take the time to read this blog can tap into some of the books I mention---resources, if they meet where you're at...)

"The only place we need to see before we die," Ann writes, "is this place of seeing God, here and now...." and so much more. She speaks candidly and authentically about her fears and anxieties, similar to my own. Actually, when I reluctantly crawled out of bed half an hour ago, I thought I would just make a tisane and curl up on the couch to read it. No intentions to blog. So it goes....

The actual impetus to blog came after I read the following post on my friend Lindsey's blog (one blog begets another...) I've referred to her before, a wise and godly woman who is caring for a daughter with a debilitating disease. I hope it's okay to re-post her words here, but they startled me with how appropriate they are at this very hour (I've italicized her post, to separate it from my own....)

Our Very Dear Blog Family:

As you might imagine, Emily was quite lethargic today. I suspect it was for two reasons, the first being the trip downtown yesterday, and the second being some pretty powerful new antibiotics which were prescribed to ward off the latest infection.

Fatima came to help her for a while, which gave me a chance to get outdoors and tackle some major yardwork in the mild temperatures before the rain switched on. Perhaps it shall all be finished up tomorrow. The birds were singing away, in the bushes and on the tree branches, and thankfully not a squirrel was to be sighted when I was present. The rich colours of autumn continued to delight me at every turn.

For days now, though, one solitary detail of the garden has gripped my heart, given me a pang of angst.

The glory of that garden for so long ~ the pinnacle of its beauty ~ has been that one incredible toubachina, a miniature tree with its profuse and stunning purple blossoms. But in the early morning frost over this past weekend, it simply froze... grayed and shriveled in its every detail... as if at its peak, life was instantly suspended, rendering it a statue.

If you knew the surging inspiration that plant had given me daily for months, being for me the pride and joy of the whole garden, then you could appreciate the pit in my stomach I have been feeling every day since at the mere glance of it.

Today, though, I was out there with it, compelled to linger long in its presence. Consequently, it gave me enormous pause for reflection. All of a sudden I realized why the visual representation had hit me so hard. It was telling me a story about something very dear to my heart which I am living very close to each and every day... not talked about, necessarily, but the cutting edge of every thought and action.

How I still balk at it, and resist it, not wanting to face it, this "frost" that can descend and permeate and change a course of what was once such a vibrant, budding life... in the seeming snap of a finger.

The Emily Ache. The human plight.

But oh! Staying with it for so long today, I eventually was able to move beyond the overall haunting impression to the truer, finer details... to step beyond the fears and gasping responses it had been evoking, and the consequent haze, to dare to face squarely the facts. And lo and behold, to my utter astonishment, I discovered quite clearly a single stem laying low which was not only still alive but bearing colorful buds and one healthy purple blossom spouting out at the tip! Somehow in all my devastation I had failed to notice it.

My personal radar kicked into gear, with the same principle that I implement with Emily: any little indicator of LIFE means we go all out in our CARE! The sadness I had been feeling evaporated. As I worked to gently water and nurture the plant in ways I felt would be helpful, I recalled situation after situation with Emily where a very similar scenario stared at us, begging intervention against all odds... and where change actually occurred, and hope was revived.

I remembered.

It made the pocket of time I could spend outside all the more replenishing for me.

And of course I shall be digging it up, and potting it, and bringing it inside for winter... but the next days are promising weather too mellow to deprive that plant of such benefits, just yet.

Meanwhile, that tiny sign of life amidst what otherwise I might perceive as ceasing of life speaks volumes to me on multiple levels... because it is an exact representation in some respects of what we are living with Emily right now.

Lovingly,
Lindsey

Aching...dismay...fears...frost....death and rumors of death....disconcerting thoughts in the darkness....and yet, a glimmer; one branch, low to the ground, with a bud and a bloom....

"A bruised reed He will not break; and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out...."

snow!

2011-11-07T05:58:00.000-08:00

We awakened this morning to the first light dusting of snow for the season. Nothing beats a four-and-a-half year old's reaction when he looks out the window and sees the world transformed into a blanket of white opportunity---a blank slate---and talk turns immediately to plans for snow forts and the critical trip our family must make to Canadian Tire to get him a new shovel.

As much as the snow signals the start of another long, cold winter in Winnipeg, and the morning routine now takes longer to clean and warm the car, the first snowfall is exciting---somehow validating the lofty goose down comforter on the bed, and beckoning the winter boots to come forth from storage. And snow pants! And mittens! Suddenly the seasonal layers appear, to the great chagrin of all Canadian pre-school teachers, who are now tasked with turning out a hobbit-sized army of well-insulated youngsters for recess every day. This is no small task, I assure you!

The neighbours have already swapped Halloween pumpkins and ghost posters for Christmas lights and garland. 'Tis almost the season, so the snow proclaims....

November ramblings....

2011-11-02T13:02:00.000-07:00

Welcome to November.

Happy 75th birthday CBC! If you know me, you know I'm a big fan, to which this blog frequently attests.

Already Ben is hooked on the Rick Mercer Report and As it Happens; and he wears his DNTO toque with patriotic pride (the toque was an unexpected gift a few years ago from one of my bakery customers).

Halloween in Winnipeg has come and gone without snow. Many people have bets going over what the weather will be like this time of year. It is unseasonably warm, though there are rumours of flurries arriving this weekend. I am getting excited about pulling my fantastic winter boots out of storage.

In fact, the weather was so lovely, I went for a rare run yesterday, and was pleasantly surprised by how enjoyable it was---my energy levels were good, and it just felt really great to get out and find a groove. I appreciate the moments when my body lets me know that it is doing something it was made for---a gentle run, a fluid swim, a really satisfying nap. I suppose giving birth was a similar, albeit much more intense, and yes, painful, experience in that regard---but all the same, call them "moments of being," or "mindfulness," they are times, usually fleeting, when I am able to tune out all the static in my internal space, and be present, take the moment for what it offers---discovery, revelation, shock, joy, peace, etc. I would definitely prefer the joy and peace, but, like giving birth, even more intense and painful moments can bring me into alignment with what my body can teach me, and offer new epiphanies and transformation....obviously I am just rambling at this point. But, along these lines, I've had a strange and quite wonderful experience the last few times I've been lying on the acupuncture table---I have found that my treatment sessions are a chance to rest, and I often start to nod off; but also with the reoccurring thought that this is an opportunity for prayer and praise---thanking God for the healing He has and is bringing into my life. It's a good moment to just be present and let my soul settle.

"Every breath a prayer..." the line of a poem echos. Just as some of the most profound worship I've seen is Benji dancing and "drumming" to Mumford and Sons---he can't sit still, and his whole body embodies the music. He is doing what he was made to do, and it's beautiful, even inspiring---we have to dance with him!

Letter to a Nation

2011-10-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

My absolute favourite musician ever, Raffi, has recorded Jack Layton's final letter to Canadians as a sweet little song.
http://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/story/2011/10/27/pol-layton-raffi.html

"...Hope is better than fear...so let us be loving...."

Milne Newsletter

2011-10-26T11:11:00.000-07:00

Friends,
Most of you should have received our recent family newsletter, with an update about the 20ll camping season at Manitoba Pioneer Camp, and other goings on. But just in case you haven't, or are not on our email list, you can visit the following link: http://manitobapioneercamp.ca/resource/File/fall_2011.pdf

Enjoy!

unexpected news

2011-10-24T19:27:00.000-07:00

We had some unexpected news at Chris' recent Cancer Care appointment last Friday. We went in, to be honest, rather cocky---after the initial surgery and follow-up in 2008, these appointments have become somewhat routine. They always follow an MRI, and we've come to expect a quick visit, where the nurse practitioner will give us the "no change" report, and send us on our way. But on Friday, the attending fellow (step above resident---I only know because I asked) was the one who informed us that Chris' most recent MRI shows a change: a small nodule (about 3mm) to the posterior of the "smudge" where the first tumor was removed. We sat stunned. I remember Pam, the brain tumor clinic nurse practioner, telling us once that it's always good news when we see her come in for Chris' check-up. "The doctor is the one who has to bring bad news." Sure enough, my first reaction was, "Where's Pam?" "No," the fellow said, "Dr. Schroder will be in shortly." damn. One lesson we learned on Friday also was that Ben should no longer accompany us to brain tumor clinic, though Deb, the front receptionist, loves when he visits, and Ben himself loves when the 'apple-juice-and-cookie' cart comes by. He's quite oblivious to the underlying reason why we go to the hospital so often, but he knows immediately when mommy and daddy are upset, and it's not easy to wipe away tears and explain small white nodules to a 4 year old. Of all the crusty old oncologists you want to come ducking into your consultation room at this point, Dr. Schroder is the one. His dry, straight-forward delivery (punctuated by the odd profanity) cuts through any crap or fog. "Don't panic folks," he said, and used the words "minute," "minuscule," and "barely detectable" more than once. There is the slight possibility that this thing has even been there for a time, and only the particular MRI Chris was in at a particular angle was able to detect it, for just one image slice. Apparently when Dr. Schroder asked one of the neurosurgeons in brain tumor clinic if he operated, would he even be able to see this "nodule," and the answer was "unlikely." "And sometimes these things come and go," he added, to which I almost jumped out of my chair. "Are you kidding---it just goes away!?" I confronted him. After all, he's talking about cancer, not miracles. "Yes," he said, "that's possible. We will keep a very close eye on it, and we have lots of options," referring to surgery again, chemotherapy again, or even Gamma Knife radiation--- We actually know someone who had Gamma Knife, and when I mentioned him to Dr. Schroder, he knew right away who I was talking about---our acquaintance had had the procedure the very first week Gamma Knife was at HSC in November 2003 and Dr. Schroder was there. There are very few hospitals in Canada with Gamma Knife technology. HSC in Winnipeg is one of, if not the top oncology departments in Canada, where many people have to travel great distances for care, and it's just literally 5 minutes from our house. "That's fine," I told Dr. Schroder "But this still sucks"

Definitely a wake up call, and we left the clinic with that same glazed-over look which see on so many other patient's faces. Chris will now have MRIs and be back at brain tumor clinic every 2 months (instead of 3). I feel like there are a few uncertainties in our lives right now, to which this news adds both a poignant urgency but also a potentially paralyzing hold. This was one of Chris' most stressful summers. Add a less-than-healthy camp diet and lack of regular exercise, and he was noticeably more tired and drained than past seasons. So, we need to regroup; talk about where we're at and how we're feeling; get out for walks and start taking care of the small things we can---diet, deep breathing, good sleep, etc. And pray. And pray some more, for God's peace and guidance and healing.

On a personal note (ie. Kelly's perspective, opposed to Chris blogging and sharing his own thoughts on these developments), my concern is (after my husband's health and well-being, and my son's sensitivity and stability) that my own reserves are so low. It's been such a strange 3 years for me, and I've often felt very guilty that my own seemingly paltry health concerns and drama have eclipsed Chris' diagnosis. I've often wished that he'd write and share more, so that my perspective and voice didn't dominate or drown out his quiet wisdom. It's there---you just have to sit down to chat or get in a canoe and paddle with him to hear it. But, for better or worse, this is our path, and it has taken a toll. To sit and hear this latest MRI report, my heart just sank, and I thought, "This is why I have to be strong," but most days I am so frustrated at myself and my body that it can't just rebound and feel normal so that I can get out of my own head in order to respond to the needs around me, especially of my family. The fact that I am too exhausted in the evenings to play with Ben grieves me. Or that Chris is the patient, loving listener who endures all my complaints and issues, while his concerns go unheeded by me. I think in most situations I wish I could be a better, stronger, wiser version of myself, but I'm not. And the reality of cancer more often burdens me rather than bolsters.

So, that's just what I have to share today. We're still processing the news, trying not to panic or over-react (Chris is so much better at that than me), still trying to be responsible and keep prespective, all the while my gut instinct is to hunker down and then look for a way to escape. I run the gamut, so definitely more to share at a later time. Thanks for reading...

new sweater!

2011-10-22T09:54:00.000-07:00

Congratulations!

2011-10-19T08:07:00.000-07:00

Congratulations to my brother Brian and his beautiful and vibrant girlfriend, now fiance, Alison, who recently became engaged. Here's a photo from when Ben and I were in Georgia this past August, with my mom, my sister, and the happy couple...

Fall 2011 Pioneer Press

2011-10-18T10:34:00.000-07:00

The Fall Edition of the Pioneer Press is available on the Manitoba Pioneer Camp website.

getting back to blogging

2011-10-14T11:11:00.000-07:00

Speaking of seasonal rhythms, it seems, perhaps, my motivation to blog follows the same trajectory as my knitting---consistanly inconsistent. A cursory scan over the last year indicates I start out with great hopes, only to peter out as the time to leave for camp draws near, and then only getting off about one blog during July, peak of the camping season. As fall approaches, perhaps I become more reflective, or am just sitting, resting (drinking more tea) more often, and my thoughts turn to catching up with friends and family again...All that to say, I always appreciate and am amazed that people still check in to peruse my ramblings, especially when they are sparse, or seem to follow the same old themes....

Ben and I had a good morning at school today, though my wee autistic friend (see Oct. 8th blog) seemed more interested in running in circles than being a good listener. Fridays are music days, which all the kids seem to enjoy---singing, clapping, dancing, with puppets or bells or shakers, learning their nursery rhymes and starting to get an ear for melody, rhthym and the language of song. I have so much to learn in the classroom, and the other teachers and staff are very patient with me, just as I have to be patient with my wee friend. There is something so enlightening about spending time with children. Enlightening and exhausting, of course. But I like being in their world, if just for one day a week.

Have a good weekend everyone.

the fibres of fall

2011-10-14T06:07:00.000-07:00

Autumn comes to Winnipeg, at least, finally, cooler weather. Which means it's the perfect weekend for my friend Louise and I to head out of the city for our annual knitting retreat. I've started a wee sweater for Ben, which may be more wee than I'd like, but the goal is to get it done by picture day in a couple of weeks, so I get to show it off for posterity....Knitting seems to have a seasonal rhythm for me---I hardly picked my needles up this summer, but as soon as the temperature dipped, especially when I was at camp in September, the urge to cast on caught up with me, and I hunkered down by the wood stove with a bottomless mug of tea. There is something of the instinctual impulse to gather and store for winter about it---pile all the bulky skeins of yarn in my knitting basket, plan out my projects and patterns, and then settle in with a modest pride, knowing I am making things---sweaters, scarves, toques, etc.---to help stave off the impending cold....cheers!

2011-10-12T07:54:00.000-07:00

all dressed up...

2011-10-08T13:43:00.000-07:00

It was obvious we hadn't been out in a while, when, as we were getting dressed for a friend's wedding last evening, Ben hovered by my side, rubbed his hands on my legs and asked what I was wearing. "They're called 'stockings,'" I said. He thought that was crazy.
And then, while Chris was sitting on the couch tying his shoes, Ben climbed up and grabbed his tie. "Dad, what's this for?"
"Good question!" Chris replied. "It doesn't do anything but hang there."
Ben paused for a moment, and then asked, "Like a decoration?"
He'd never seen us all dressed up, and it seemed to strike him as amusing. It was the first time Chris has worn a suit since we'd moved to Winnipeg, and the lipstick I found at the bottom of my dresser drawer was probably just as old. But we looked great, and the wedding was a wonderful and sacred celebration---congratulation to our friends Christian and Carla.

I would say that we're finally settled home. Chris has been in to work for a few days, but for the most part is taking some time off to rest and putter around the house. I've been busy with work, appointments, and a new job---Friday mornings I'm at Ben's school as a one-on-one worker with an autistic boy. He's really wonderful, and I am learning so much, just being in the classroom, experiencing the culture and activities firsthand, and seeing how they are interpreted by a wee boy with a particular way of being. I know very little about child development, but it is also interesting that my standard of comparison is my own son. While Ben is so "out there"---providing play-by-play verbal commentary on everything he sees (I wonder if he'll grow up to be something like a journalist or sports commentator), and sharing his unfiltered feelings and opinions at all times; this other boy seems so "internal"---existing in his own little world, not aware of most social action and cues, and expressing only a limited reprotoire of words. My life and family would be very different if Ben had developed differently. And it would, of course, be "normal", just as we've normalized other health issues, albeit normal is often difficult and seemingly relentless. It is hard to hear a grandmother say that she always wished for a grandchild, but wasn't prepared for one with special needs, though she loves him entirely. It's hard to see a father get emotional when, upon dropping his son off at school and hearing the boy say "Bye," the dad shares that that was the first time his son has ever aknowledged his leaving. Meanwhile, Ben delivers an effusive out-pouring of "Bye mom! I love you! see you soon, I love you!" whenever I step out the door. In a strange way, I am honoured to spend Fridays with this boy, following him around, helping him, playing lots of trains. The plan is that he'll get a full-time worker, trained specifically in early childhood development by the end of October, so then I'll go back to just volunteering and continue to enjoy Children's House as much as Ben does.

Happy Thanksgiving.

ordinary significance

2011-09-28T18:29:00.001-07:00

"...God's clear purpose is that through His Spirit we make redemption our priority....That we act as instruments to restore damaged relationships....When you realize that today is kind of similar to yesterday and a bit like tomorrow, ask yourself who is becoming whole again on your watch, what is being healed through your influence, how is God redeeming His creation by way of your life?..." - Lisa Brosious Beamer, Wheaton College commencement address, 2011

"just to live a life of passion"

2011-09-26T16:31:00.000-07:00

http://www.cbc.ca/sports/swimming/story/2011/09/25/sp-nyad-cuba-swim.html

a bit of the emotional commentary....

2011-09-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

I don't know if Dr. Shi is aware or not of the fact that she is literally saving my life, but as it turns out, committing to weekly acupuncture sessions is one of the best decisions I have ever stumbled upon (which is grammatically incorrect, a bit of a mixed metaphor, but that's how I want to express it)....Back in the spring, a friend had recommended I go see her to consult about some food sensitivities I suspected Ben had. When I called, the earliest new patient appointments were in July, so I booked an appointment for myself as well; and lo and behold, not only did Ben indeed have several sensitivities (and a parasite---I knew it!), I also tested positive for wheat, dairy, egg, sugar, yeast, alcohol, and Omega-3s sensitivities. More significantly, Dr. Shi found that I had significant imbalances concerning my hormones, adrenals, thyroid, and hypothalamus. I felt incredibly relieved and simultaneously incredibly messed up. These "blockages," are very much the result of the initial trauma and continual stress my family and I have faced in the last few years---a cascading affect of weird symptoms and frustrations that, while wreaking havoc on my endocrine system, fell within conventional medicine's range for "normal," and were therefore undetectable/untreatable by my doctor and specialists he had referred me to. Dr. Shi was the first person to confirm what I had intuitively come to believe my body was telling, nay, screaming to me. So, of course, broke down and cried in her office.

But they were tears of holy wonder, because a full year before, during a time of prayer, my friend Donna had a vision of me in a filthy, dark, sewage pipe, just big enough for me to cram into. She saw me banging violently up against a screen that was blocking my escape. Disgusting water was rushing around me, passing through the screen and the various twists and turns beyond it, until eventually emptying into clean, open water. But I was stuck, trapped. And the prayer was for God to please remove that blockage; a prayer I would often, desperately return to during very dark days. So when Dr. Shi used that same language (consistent with the Traditional Chinese Medicine concept of qi) I was struck immediately that, however long and twisting the process would be, this was the right path. And it has proved invaluable. I still have crappy days, but more recently, glimpses of what it's like to feel 'okay' again. I'm good with okay.

This is partly the significance of the passage from Oswald Chambers in the previous post: " Think of the healing and far-flung rivers nursing themselves in our souls! God has been opening up marvellous truths to our minds, and every point He has opened up is an indication of the wider power of the river He will flow through us." This summer has been a continuation of the real struggle I've faced as these "marvellous truths" are opened and become the next arena for transformation. I had no idea my life's journey would go down the path it has the last couple of years, and in some ways, I can't believe I am still reeling and processing the after shocks of what happened to Chris on June 18, 2008. I never thought I'd be dealing with matters of life and death in my early 30s, that is, having to reconcile myself to mortality and the passing of the people dearest in my life. But why not? I wish not, but that doesn't matter. Cancer f***s things up like that.

But in early August I was reading in Matthew, and it was a passage about Jesus healing a leper ("Lord if you are willing you will heal me." Jesus replies, "I am willing"), Jesus speaking a mere word to heal a centurion's slave; Jesus raising Jarius's daughter from the dead. I thought about the passage that has become very meaningful to me, of the woman hemorrhaging for 12 years and being healed by touching the hem of Jesus' cloak. And as I read, the thought came to me, "Everyone Jesus healed, died." And immediately I thought, why on earth am I thinking such a morbid, downer thought. But it's true. All were miraculous healings. But even the people Jesus brought back from the dead, eventually died again. All he did was buy them time. But more than that---gave them a wholly transformed, completely unhinged (as in truly freed) perspective on life framed by eternity. I was terrified! In fact, at this point in the summer, I was completely overcome by fears and anxieties about death and illness. They were controlling my life and turning me into a fear monger. I was not a very nice person to be around, but I couldn't shake it.

So it was not a coincidence that I went to visit my parents in Georgia and my mom had Larry Burkett's book, "Nothing to Fear: The Key to Cancer Survival" laid out on the bedside table. I can't possibly summarize the book, and perhaps it wouldn't necessarily be something that would seem significant to other people; but I read it at the absolute right time. Larry explains, "Let me repeat a fact that is absolutely true: We will all die eventually---every single one of us. I don't know what might help you to handle the reality of death, but for me it's faith. If you're young, it may be very difficult to face death especially if you have a family with young children, because you probably fear leaving your family more than you fear death itself....As a Christian, once I realized and accepted my mortality and stopped fearing death, Satan stopped bothering me with the fear of death....God wants us to live life to the fullest, but fear will cripple us. The issue isn't whether you have cancer or perfect health, because if there are circumstances that cause you to live in fear you can't possibly enjoy your life on this earth---no matter how healthy you are or how short or long your life may be."

Perfect health is terminal. A bizarre but somehow, at this point in my hashing this all out in a big, bloody mess, also comforting. And just like my acupuncture treatments, I still have crappy---fearful, anxiety-ridden, obsessive compulsive---days. Not to mention terrible indigestion. But it was something I needed to read at this time; something I need to let sink into my spirit and amazingly, offer a reprieve from fear. Perfect love drives out, drives away all fear. Thank God.

and thanks for letting me share.

The Diffusiveness of Life

2011-09-09T14:09:00.000-07:00

from Oswald Chamber's Sept. 6th entry in My Utmost for His Highest, entitled "The Diffusiveness of Life" (emphasis mine)....

"...he who believes in Me, as the Scripture said, 'from his innermost being shall flow rivers of living water.' John 7:38

A river touches places of which its source knows nothing....A river is victoriously persistent, it overcomes all barriers. For a while it goes steadily on its course, then it comes to an obstacle and for a while it is baulked, but it soon makes a pathway round the obstacle. Or a river will drop out of sight for miles, and presently emerge again broader and grander than ever....Keep paying attention to the Source, and God will either take you round the obstacle or remove it. The river of the Spirit of God overcomes all obstacles. Never get your eyes on the obstacle or on the difficulty. The obstacle is a matter of indifference to the river which will flow steadily through you if you remember to keep right at the Source. Never allow anything to come between yourself and Jesus Christ, no emotion, or experience; nothing must keep you from the one great sovereign Source.

Think of the healing and far-flung rivers nursing themselves in our souls! God has been opening up marvellous truths to our minds, and every point He has opened up is an indication of the wider power of the river He will flow through us."

Typing on an iPad is frustrating

2011-09-03T13:04:00.000-07:00

Well, I am typing this blog from the surface of our new iPad ("daddy's new toy," as Ben calls it)---a recent purchase to replace the laptop that was stolen in the break-in (see June 15th post). I find typing on an ipad to be very frustrating. Those of you familiar with this blog may recall my various posts about my bad karma when it comes to all things mechanical or any sort of technology (car engine lights, computer motherboards, etc.) So, put an iPad in my lap, and be prepared for a few blips and bleeps to transpire...The thing that actually bothers me the most is that the truncated onscreen keyboard offends my 'classically trained' typing skills---my absolute favorite and very best course I have ever taken was, of all things (dad---please don't be mad---I still appreciate my university education), my grade 9 keyboard class at Pickering high school. A life preparation class if there ever was one. It took me 3 months to be able to stretch my hands and properly type my own name---to the point that the guy sitting beside me took to calling me 'Kellu' for the rest of the year. This was in 1991. The teacher was named Ms. Bell, the first woman I had ever met who went by 'Ms.', so that automatically made her a feminist to my naive mind. We used electric typewriters, and fixed all our mistakes with correction tape---I spent a lot of money on correction tape. But I eventually got it, and the skill has proved invaluable. Needless to say, the iPad key pad does not follow the same traditional layout, and further complicates my already flustered fingers in their clumsy composition....

It's been awhile since I've blogged, which means there's a lot of ground to cover, so I will do my best to give an overview and maybe come back later to fill in more of the emotional commentary....

Ben and I had a great visit with my parents in Georgia, including a couple trips to the lake and fun on the boat and seadoo (I guess you would call them "grandpa's toys"). The trip gave me some time for rest and personal reflection, and I found I returned back to the busyness of camp and other stresses, in a much better head space than when I had left.

The 2011 camp season ended on August 26th (also Chris' birthday), and we headed back on the 28th (also our 12th wedding anniversary!) for a week in the city before returning to camp for the annual "Friends of Pioneer" homecoming weekend. That's where I am right now, looking out the cabin window on a rainy afternoon, with a mug of tea beside me. The camp office moved from the island back to the city as well, so next week Ben and I will start our city routine while Chris takes care of the fall trips at camp before returning to Winnipeg at the end of the month. Ben is back to school (mornings) on September 8th. I am looking forward to being settled back at home, but it will be October before we're all in one place together, in sync.

It was a good summer---having the office at camp was a successful experiment, and we were blessed with safety for all camps and trips. Chris enjoyed directing the leader-in-training program---a really solid group of guys who make the future of boys camp at MPC look outstanding (unfortunately, there was no girl LITs this year, though the inaugural girls challenge trip was stellar!)

More to come, but I thought I'd put a few words up here to touch base.

Peace

paperwork

2011-08-24T13:14:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of Kelly finishing all the staff paper work at the end of the summer.....

down south...

2011-08-17T08:12:00.000-07:00

photos from my parents visit to camp

2011-08-09T10:41:00.001-07:00

Fantastic Movies from the summer

2011-08-06T10:41:00.000-07:00

Thanks to our videographer, Jamie Enns, for making these fantastic movies of the summer camps at MPC!!!

http://manitobapioneercamp.ca/index.cfm?PageId=69

Enjoy!

17 July Chapel

2011-07-22T07:51:00.000-07:00

Homily: Of Place and Thresholds

There is a Celtic saying that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places, that distance is even smaller. A thin place is a mystical or even sacred place--- where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted and where one is able to sense or glimpse God. Having married into an Irish family, the belief is that Ireland is indeed, God’s country, suspended over the realm of the fairies and spirits, and replete with thin places which serve as portals, thresholds, into another, timeless realm. Often, thin places are associated with wild landscapes---places where, while we have little control and are seemingly at the mercy of nature, God can reveal Himself to us in creative, profound, and very specific ways.

My family and I attend a small church in downtown Winnipeg called Exchange Community Church, where I have had the privilege and somewhat daunting task of being on the teaching team for the last year. Our church follows the revised common lectionary, which gives us four scriptures for each Sunday, roughly working through the entire Bible in the course of 2 years. I appreciate the lectionary, first, because I like the thought of reading the same passages as other churches around the world; and second, because rather than start with my own idea or topic and then figure out what passages to draw in to make a point, it helps me to start with the word and let it draw me in, and see what reverberations in my life and teaching may follow.

So for today, Sunday July 17^th, I turned to the lectionary, which had 4 solid passages, and one in particular that was really intriguing: Genesis 28:10-22 --- the story of Jacob’s dream. I must say, by way of introduction, that I don’t usually linger in the Old Testament, and I’ve never particularly liked Jacob, a rather conniving, selfish man. I don’t understand the family or political nuances of the Old Testament, but I have done some thinking about the concept of covenant: a solemn, sacred agreement between God and humans with specific promises and demands, which is central to the identity and culture of the Jewish people and also Christians.

For those of you who know the story, This particular passage comes right after Jacob, the youngest of 2 sons, had disguised himself and stolen from his father, Isaac, the blessing intended for his elder brother, Esau. When Esau learns what Jacob did, he sets out to kill him, so Jacob escapes into the wilderness.

V. 10 Then Jacob departed from Beersheba and went toward Haran. ¹¹ He came to a certain place and spent the night there, because the sun had set; and he took one of the stones of the place and put it under his head, and lay down in that place.

Aside: I like this verse for its detail---using a stone for a pillow. I remember when I first started tripping, I would use a sweater or fleece and ball it up as a pillow at night, all smoky and damp. After a while, I got fed up with too many terrible night sleeps on trip, and for a while I’d bring a pillow case and stuff it with all manner of clothes and whatever to try and make a better pillow---all smoky and damp…Now, I don’t care if it takes a bit more space or what my husband might say, I trip with this (hold up pillow)---all soft and silky. I would imagine a stone would not be very comfortable, to say the least. Perhaps, in his haste, Jacob forgot his thermarest. But here he is, sleeping outside in the wilderness, and he has a remarkable dream…

He had a dream, and behold, a ladder was set on the earth with its top reaching to heaven; and behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. ¹³ And behold, the LORD stood above it and said, “I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie, I will give it to you and to your descendants. ¹⁴ Your descendants will also be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and in you and in your descendants shall all the families of the earth be blessed. ¹⁵ Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

In this dream, heaven and earth collide, as it were. Little did Jacob know that he had camped out in a thin place. And here, God speaks an amazing promise---a covenant---to bless Jacob and his descendents; that, among other things, to give them the land, the very place where Jacob lay, as a home—a place to settle and be from. It is a promise that is both wide in its scope: “Your descendants will also be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and in you and in your descendants shall all the families of the earth be blessed. : But is also intensely personal: “Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

I think one of the reasons this passage resonated with me was the particular phrase “I will keep you.” When I was a student at Wheaton College, just outside Chicago, I had an apartment right down the street from the Billy Graham Centre, which among archives and other exhibits, would occasionally host art exhibits. I had a very profound experience my senior year, when I was meandering through the art hall one evening, looking at various works, and came up to a particular painting---I can’t remember who the artist was, or what exactly the painting depicted, but the title of the work so impressed me and marked me that it has become a defining theme and central truth in my life. The work was called: “I Cannot Keep Myself But He Always Keeps Me.”

Which leads me briefly, from Jacob’s dream to the lectionary Psalm for today, 139:

You have enclosed me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
It is too high, I cannot attain to it.
⁷ Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
⁸ If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.
⁹ If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
¹⁰ Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will lay hold of me.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,”
¹² Even the darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.
¹³ For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.

I find this Psalm so comforting and reassuring, and so terrifying! As the psalmist says, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is too high, I cannot attain to it.” And which leads me back to Jacob---waking up (with a terrible kink in his neck), completely overwhelmed by what he has seen and heard. I get the impression from his reaction that he wouldn’t have stopped at this particular campsite if he had known it was, indeed, such a precarious, thin place: “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.” ¹⁷ He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” But I also get the impression that this encounter was inevitable---God was hemming him in, pursuing and laying hold of Jacob, even though I don’t think he necessarily understood the scope of what God’s covenant meant for him and his future. He still had to work it out---to live it---find a wife (which is an interesting, 14 year story starting in Genesis 29), have a family, reconcile with his brother, etc. etc.

But, though he’s overwhelmed, Jacob does realize something significant has occurred---a threshold in his journey into the wilderness has been crossed, and he’s not going to be able to operate by his previous means. And so he marks the place. He “rose early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up as a pillar and poured oil on its top. He called the name of that place Bethel,” which means House of God.

And then he does something so human, which I can so relate to, and I love him for it: Then Jacob made a vow, saying, “If God will be with me and will keep me on this journey that I take, and will give me food to eat and garments to wear, and I return to my father’s house in safety, then the LORD will be my God. This stone, which I have set up as a pillar, will be God’s house, and of all that You give me I will surely give a tenth to You.”

“If God…” Jacob hasn’t fully clued in---hasn’t fully understood or received what God has bestowed and promised, covenanted with him. But he wants to believe it. Want to put it to the test and see how things end up---even to the point of vowing to turn it around and give some of it back.

Okay, tell me if the following sounds familiar: “Motivated by the love of Jesus and led by the Spirit.... Manitoba Pioneer Camp guides individuals into communities in the wilderness: children into adventure, young adults into servant leaders - all toward wholeness in relationship, and an encounter with the wildness and warmth of God.”

I think it is important to seek out thin places from time to time on our spiritual path. And for some of us, MacKinnon or Cash Island could even possibly be a thin place, or at least, a threshold into thin places---where your spirit is drawn, where doorways into the sacred are opened, and where you encounter God.

I want to invite you to reflect on the thin places in your life, and I also wanted to pause and consider what God may be saying to you, in the wilderness, in this place, through each other, and also in the other spheres of our lives. I don’t often remember my regular dreams, let alone have visions of ladders descending from heaven with angels. But God has spoken specific promises to me (like the title of a painting in college), that resonate with my spirit and which set a trajectory for my life, if I can listen, and then, as best as I can, live it.

when it rains, it pours.....from the hot water tank

2011-06-27T10:18:00.000-07:00

Opened my email inbox from the island office to find the following message this morning....

Patrick Neufeld to me

Hi Kelly

Happy Corpus Christi

I'm afraid your water heater expired this morning. By a bit of good luck, the sound of water pouring through the breach reminded me that I needed to go down and empty the dehumidifier. I closed the intake valve and I flipped a couple of breakers off--your water heater isn't labelled (something you might want the repairman to do when he replaces it) in the breaker box, so I may also have flipped off the furnace and the dryer.

Now, you'll have to tell me what you want done..... You could just let the thing sit, I think, until you're back in town.

This reminds me of my friend Suzie Smith: one morning I came into Martha Street Studio early to find her trying to shunt a torrent of water from the defunct water heater into a large bucket--she didn't know how to shut it down. I wonder what she planned to do when she'd filled the bucket...

Patrick,

good morning. wow. I'm in a bit of shock, just imagining what the situation would be like if you weren't there. thanks, even just for your presence, and also presence of mind.

Chris and I would like to take care of this as soon as possible......We'll call someone to come and replace it. Can we let you know when, and either make arrangements for you or Judy/Doug to be there, or we will come back to the city to deal with it?......

okay. thanks again, and I appreciated your story about your friend Suzie. I can relate to her, actually---standing under the barrage of life, holding a wee bucket, quite overwhelmed.....

email from my mom...

2011-06-17T17:11:00.000-07:00

Ann Rae to me
Jun 16
After talking to you last night I also wondered about Chris's bike but it sounds like only what could fit in that bag was taken. I rushed out to the 1st night of bible study after you first called & just worked on some of my lesson. We read Hebrews 10, written to believers who were suffering & discouraged in their faith. Verse 34 is interesting: "You showed sympathy to the prisoners & accepted joyfully the seizure of your property, knowing that you have for yourselves a better possession & a lasting one. 35- Therefore do not throw away your confidence which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised." I know it is referring to their suffering because of their faith but I think it applies to all of us & the different kinds of trouble, difficulty, frustration & suffering we may be going through. It does remind us how lost & desperate some people are & what they are willing to do for temporary satisfaction. Do we really sympathize with those imprisoned by their own sin & depravity? Not usually, I guess. I doubt we accept joyfully the taking of our property. But as you posted today, the things of value- our loved ones & our faith- cannot be taken from us. The character of the world described in 2 Timothy 3:1-7 isn't pretty so we shouldn't be surprised when people who haven't experienced God's love act on their godless impulses. It's just hard when it affects us so personally. We'll keep praying that it will be resolved quickly & that you can get to camp.
Love, Mom

Reply
Kelly Milne to Ann
10:12 PM
Hi mom,

I really appreciate your email and thoughts. It is significant to me that you were studying Hebrews 10, about the "seizure of property." It's really unfortunate, but has served to emphasize the shift in perspective that I've had in the last few weeks---getting over my self, and reflecting about what is really most important, on the various levels that I have to function during a day---physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically. I had an interesting phone call from the Wpg Police "victim services" this afternoon---just a courtesy follow-up call, to make sure Ben and I were safe and secure, and had support. I explained (not in detail) that our family has had to deal with a variety of challenges over the last couple years that have put something like a breakin in context. It sucks, but we can deal with it. At the end of the call, she said, "Well, it's sounds like you're a tough woman, and that you're doing okay." And I was taken aback. No one has ever perceived me as such, certainly not my own self! I have been running on adrenaline for the last 24 hours, and telling the story to a lot of people, but I do hear a new confidence in my tone, that I know is not me, but the Spirit bouying me up. That's encouraging, even though I am exhausted. I was up for a few hours last night (3am thoughts), replaying the moment I walked into the house and realized something was amiss---grabbing Ben and rushing outside. I'm not scared, but that was definitely a traumatic "fight-or-flight" moment, along the lines of what I've been debriefing with Irene over the winter (re. Chris' seizure). In some ways, I don't know why God is allowing me to continually experience these big events. But then again, I can actually attest to a deepening strength and understanding that is slowly being cultivated in my spirit. I would never choose for transformation to happen in these ways, but there you have it. I'm trying to find a better way to articulate it. Maybe one day I'll get a bit of this down in some sort of coherent way, and write more than the occasional blog....
Anyways, thanks. The bike is still in the backyard, but did you see my recent post?---the guy stole a mostly-full jug of juice from the fridge (which was ajar when I entered the kitchen)---blueberry/pomegranate. I had bought it for Ben. What a crazy world. It's so funny and so sad all jumbled up together.

I love you.
Kelly

2011-06-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

And he stole a jug of juice from the fridge.

2nd b&e

2011-06-15T21:22:00.000-07:00

Well friends, sorry for a drastic change of gears, from bucolic fields of dandelions, to the harsh reality of the West End, but I have bad news: our house was broken into today. again. which really sucks....The first time was just over a year ago, over the May long weekend when our family had moved out to camp. This time, Ben and I came home this afternoon to complete disarray and violation. Someone had kicked in the back door (our front doors were replaced after last year's break in) and had enough time to toss everything apart before making off with the few electronics we owned (laptop, camera, ipod)....Once again, my neighbours have been incredible---Drew barricaded the back door with 2x4s and invited us over for dinner (Ben was thrilled to play with Max and Milo for the evening, and I was thrilled to have a beer and watch the hockey game with Drew and Leanne!) And I've had constant phone calls from concerned neighbours and friends all evening. We're safe. And what is most valuable is untouched and intact....But it bothers me that twice now we've been seen to be a target....Here's what really gets me: the perpetrator rooted through the bedroom and emptied my small "jewellery box." Anything of value was taken in the first break in, so this time they just dumped the contents into whatever, to steal and sort through later---a ring from the Aran islands in Ireland; a butterfly brooch that my grandmother had bequeathed to me; and a tag from the red dress that Chris had bought as a surprise for me one day back in Pickering. We were going to a show that evening, and I arrived home from work to find the dress laid out on the bed, just because. He had written, "I love you," on the tag, and it's the kind of thing I never meant to keep, but somehow did, and have had in my jewellery box for about 10 years now---a memory.

You can take my computer and ipod, you can take most things in my house, actually---kitchen things, clothes, books, whatever---and I'll be annoyed, but it's the small, sentimental things that hold the most value---photos, letters, journals; the wooden blocks that my friend Leni gave to Ben, that were hers as a little girl growing up in Holland; the sweaters I knit for Chris and Ben; my special tea mug....stuff like that. Just stuff, but important. Thankfully not attractive or valuable to someone desperate enough to break into my home and mess it up....I am sad about the "I love you" tag. But I still have the dress, and it fits just as well ..... :)

I really appreciate your prayers and thoughts. Chris is away on the Staff training canoe trip on the Turtle river, so I am dealing with this for now, and longing for his safe return on Sunday. It will be good to have my 2 boys, my family, together again---what matters most of all.

blowin' in the wind...

2011-06-12T19:45:00.000-07:00

dandelions

2011-06-12T19:29:00.000-07:00

today

2011-06-08T07:29:00.000-07:00

Ben, on the drive into school today: "This is a really, really, really, really, really, really, new day today!" he announced. "We can do lots of new playing!"

Here's Ben's favourite guy, Sid the Science Kid, on his way to school with his cool mama...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlMQd1S525E

names

2011-06-06T05:53:00.000-07:00

I was lying in bed last night, thinking about names...I had met a new neighbour named Joy, and was reminded of my friend Joy in Morocco. It's interesting that "Joy" is a woman's name, but I have never met a "Peace." "Grace" is also a name (both Chris and I have grandmothers named Grace), but I've never met a "Trust." I've met "Marys' but never a "Merry" (outside of Tolkien's novel, of course). Names are very significant. There is the great African-American abolitionist and women's rights activist, Isabella Baumfree, who gave herself the name "Sojourner Truth." I would think a name like that would chart a certain course for one's life; just as Chris and I bestowed our son with the honoured name of his great-grandfather, Samuel McKinney.....Nothing more to say, really, just thinking about names and what we mean to each other today.

time to be thankful

2011-06-04T13:03:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about blogging for a while now, but a little overwhelmed at the prospect of where to begin......I get regular blog updates from my mother-in-law's dear friend Lindsey Yeskiw, and I've been pondering her entry from May 31st, entitled: "Time, Being so Slippery..." and from May 28th: "Making the Most of Remaining Minutes."

I think I have posted references to Lindsey's CaringBridge site before. Not only is Lindsey's eldest daughter, Emily, living with a rare, fatal neuro-degenerative disease called MLD; Lindsey's husband, Paul works for the US foreign service, and has recently left for a one-year assignment in Iraq. So, when Lindsey takes a rare, spare moment to sit and share her thoughts, I take heed:

"The more pointed question which results, in our circumstances, is: what, then, has been made of the time that has been given? Only I can answer, as far as it pertains to me and my responsibilities. And locked up in all my responses is the secret of all my angst, as it were, about Time, Being So Slippery. For it yields the truth that Time in and of itself is not culpable of its Slipperiness, but rather how I have chosen to Spend That Time in whatever allotment it has been given to me......

I venture to suggest that it takes a face-to-face encounter with one's own mortality ~ or that of one whose mortality is enormously bound up in one's own ~ to hit the point home in any kind of real way. How many, many of us otherwise can and do pontificate, holding on vociferously and tenaciously to all kinds of opinions and notions about life and happenings, trying to convince others of our persuasion, even condemning those who do not see things as we do... to then all of a sudden crumple in anguish, silent and choking, by whatever it is that strikes at one's core when a sudden dramatic turn of events, such as a medical diagnosis or inadvertent loss of life, blows everything out of the water?

In all our previous proclamations and assumptions of "knowing", perhaps we find ourselves in a moment where so very little do we really know. Things are not as they had seemed, nor as clear-cut as we had assumed.

Who can still remain standing?....

Overcome with my own perceived inadequacies for the immediate road ahead in our family, on the brink of imminent changes, there was indeed fear... there was burden. Some of you do not realise that it already takes everything that we have and are just to keep going at this juncture.

This is not a plea for your pity. Far from it.

There are days, already, when things come crashing in and I am caught between being inordinately grateful to still have Emily ~ a smiling Emily, yet! ~ and simultaneously wondering how I am going to make it myself through one more day, stretched as I am by our peculiar reality. Any doubts? Just ask anyone else who is even remotely in our kind of situation!

"Lord, have mercy!"

Yet partly because I had dared to divulge in writing, many people who were already concerned really stepped up their earnest and specific prayers to God on our behalf.

And I literally experienced the difference.

The fear left me. The burden lifted. Peace came. So did the "Do Not Be Afraid." And I found myself filled with a new thought, and empowered with God's Provision for new adequacies... to actively begin to put into place a plan which will overall IMPROVE our situation, in spite of obvious constraints.

Yes, I needed scales to fall off my own eyes and heart, to start seeing things in a renewed way... pressing the REFRESH button, and applying the INSERT and DELETE ones appropriately......

"Be at rest, once more, oh my soul,
for the Lord has been good to you."

How Lindsey faces her circumstances with supernatural grace is such a humbling example for me. Her post is worth taking the time to read. And it has RESET, REFRESHED my perspective as I head into this new camp season.

For whatever reason, I started out this year with a certain amount of resignation. As I've previously mentioned, each year I seem to feel increasingly caught between 2 worlds---camp and city---and not fully settled in either. It is the time of year when we keep a toothbrush in both places (consistently the one thing I always forget to pack!), and my 2 houses become an assortment of piles of things that I'd like to take out to the island, or that I need to bring back home. This year I am finding it very hard for my family to be apart, Chris working out at camp, myself working in the camp city office and Ben going to school. Though our situation has far far fewer constraints than the Yeskiws, our time together as a family has become of primary importance to me; though I think some of my motivation is based on the residual fear of trauma and changes we've faced in the last couple years. Trying to reconcile our passion and commitment to camp with a sustainable arrangement for our family has been difficult, but it is not impossible. I just need a perspective beyond myself to see how these 2 things can align....

That's why it was so important for Ben and I to return to the island last weekend, after leaving in such haste, without a proper goodbye, the weekend before. And that's why having Chris home in the city for a few days respite was such a blessing.

Everyone's time is precious. But it is not our own. I am trying to balance the desire to have my family hunkered down in a safe little nest, with the reality of our calling to the work of MPC on a wilderness island. Not easy, but this is where I'm at. And, as Lindsey so eloquently and poignantly shares, "I realised that my demeanor...is only to be THANKFULNESS."

She is an extraordinary woman, and I am thankful for her today.

having a wonderful week at home

2011-06-01T16:31:00.001-07:00

the last few days...

2011-05-30T17:21:00.001-07:00

Ben and I ended up driving out to camp this past weekend, the condition being that we would do so if we could drive home on Sunday with Chris with us. It was going to be a rainy, chilled, slightly depressive sort of weekend, and I'd rather spend those kind of days hunkered down by a woodstove with a hot tea and knitting in hand, opposed to being enclosed in the city house with a cranky boy wishing our family could be together. It was a very quiet weekend on the island, and I almost feel guilty, parachuting in between school groups, and hearing all the stories about crazy adventures during the week. almost. But if I'm going to be living between two places for a month and a bit, I don't feel bad being spared the drama of students chasing beavers off the front beach or catching garter snakes and bringing them back to their cabins, among other incidents.

So, Chris is home for a few days. We opened and set up our new charcoal grill yesterday (thank-you airmiles!), and cooked bison burgers for supper. delicious!

Ben and I went to the farm today for a school field trip---spring was in the air, with baby lambs, baby goats, kittens, 2 week-old holstein calves, and 3 week old Australian shepherd pups. Ben is definitely a city kid, plugging his nose as soon as we entered the barn. But it was good to get outside the city limits to a place we'd never been before and pet a llama. fun!

half glasses

2011-05-24T18:57:00.001-07:00

Ben and I returned from camp late yesterday afternoon---exhausted, muddy, and cranky. I found that I wasn't emotionally prepared to be out on the island in the thick of work weekend, and it definitely wasn't restful....On a purely personal, rather selfish level, camp is such a "glass-half-empty/glass-half-full" kind of place, which is terribly cliche, but I can't think of a better analogy right now. The "glass half empty" perspective focuses on all the things I have to give up and do without when I uproot and move to the island: my own quiet house, cooking healthy meals in my own kitchen, the convenience of running to the store when you need something, and the luxuries of city life. The "glass half full" perspective sees all the benefits and things I gain when I enter and join the camp community: a lovely lakeside cabin, someone cooking meals for my family and I, and the most important, valuable thing, my family all together in one place. It's a weird lifestyle, and I feel like I am very much between two places right now---home alone with Ben, working and taking care of things, while Chris is immersed in camp life, and I have a bunch of stuff out there waiting for me. Even though we've been doing this for 7 years or so now, it feels like every year is different and some how new---a new arrangement to try and balance; a new dynamic to navigate. Thanks for your prayers as we attempt to do so with some semblance of grace and wisdom.

to camp and back again

2011-05-20T05:48:00.000-07:00

Ben and I leave for camp this afternoon just for the long weekend, which is the annual Work Camp opening weekend on the island....It was this time last year when we arrived at camp and had an urgent phone call from the city that our house had been broken into. It's funny how things work out---we got 2 new beautiful and sturdy doors out of the incident. I still chuckle at how the perpetrator must have quickly realized he'd chosen the wrong house, unless he was interested in stealing all my old Norton Anthology English Literature textbooks, or my extensive selection of green tea....Anyways, my goal this weekend is to give our cabin a thorough cleaning, visit with my friend Pauline and her family, and hopefully snap some photos that I can post on the blog early next week.....

I enjoyed the reading from My Utmost for His Highest yesterday, but there was an interesting discrepancy between my worn copy (copy right 1935) and the "modernized" version on the website.

"God does not keep His child immune from trouble; He promises, “I will be with him in trouble . . .” It does not matter what actual troubles in the most extreme form get hold of a person's life; not one of them can ever separate him from his relationship to God. We are “more than conquerors in all these things . . .” Paul was not referring here to imaginary things, but to things that are desperately actual. And he said we are “super-victors” in the midst of them, not because of our own ingenuity, nor because of our courage, but because none of them affects our essential relationship with God in Jesus Christ. Rightly or wrongly, we are where we are, exactly in the condition we are in. I feel sorry for the Christian who doesn’t have something in the circumstances of his life that he wishes were not there."

The part that the new version omitted (in bold above) was actually the part I appreciated the most. I guess it does seem a bit strange or out of context compared with the surrounding thought. But it sums up the way I am relating to God these days, and it is reassuring to note that God's love for me, today in my given condition, still supersedes all else.

Well, time for the rush of the day. Got to go.....

the good neighbour

2011-05-18T18:57:00.000-07:00

Today, I am thankful for my neighbour, Chantel, who came over this evening to comb through Ben's and my hair to check if we had lice.....yup. It was that kind of a day....

Things have been very busy at work, and for the last two days I've picked Ben up from school and brought him in to the office, because my mom-in-law is out of town. It's a tricky business, wearing both my "mom hat" and my "administrator persona," but it actually worked well, with Kristen Undiks in volunteering, and Noelle, the seasonal admin assistant, who was incredibly thoughtful and brought in her complete 1st season of Jim Henson's Fraggle Rock. Ben loves it!

But it has been a bit of a rough ride this week, what with Chris gone to camp, pinworm treatments, and both Ben and I dealing with allergies. We're itchy, moody, and more than a little on edge.

So, I had one of those rare and significant "You've-got-to-be-kidding" moments, sitting at the dinner table, mindlessly scrolling through my email, and coming across a message from Ben's school informing parents that there has been a recent case of head lice. At that exact moment, I glanced over at Ben, who was cramming pieces of nitrate-free hotdog into his mouth with one hand, and vigorously scratching his scalp with his other. My contagious-infestation-alarm-meter just shot through the roof. I had the sheets ripped off the beds and spinning in scalding hot water, along with all of Ben's stuffed animals bagged and in the freezer, and emergency consultation phone calls out to four different people in about 2 minutes. One call of which was to my dear neighbour, who graciously came over for an inspection, and pronounced us both clear. Lice-free. Thanks be to God. Though of course I'm itching like crazy just at the thought of it all....yup. That kind of a day. And I just have to laugh at the end of it, after trying to hold everything together, but realizing I'll just have to get up on the wave for a better vantage and learn to surf the craziness....

helpful tips for green cleaning

2011-05-15T07:01:00.000-07:00

For all the spring-cleaners out there....

http://www.womentowomen.com/detoxification/nontoxic-greencleaning.aspx

things to ride out

2011-05-14T12:11:00.000-07:00

finally a sunny day in Winnipeg---a relief and reprieve from a drizzly cold week... So it seems a bit strange that the day has an arc of sadness to it---Chris left for camp this morning, and for some reason, despite running errands and trying to keep myself and Ben occupied on a Saturday, I have to acknowledge the subtle ache of loneliness that comes at this time of transition. It's a heavy and disconcerting feeling, but something I know I have to greet when it comes, and ride it out with patience and prayer. "God's will will not lead you where His grace can't keep you," something that Pete Dearborn told me the other day. So I'm looking for that "keeping grace," in whatever corners or even obvious places where it may be for me today; as I suppose we all are in some manner or other....

One thing that's really been bothering me, that I figure I might as well just put out here, is that Ben seems to be struggling with a bout of pinworms, and it's going on about 2 months now. Tenacious buggers! I'm letting it get to me more than it should, wincing every time he scratches, and he scratches constantly. We've had a few trips to the doctor's now, and a round and a half of "Vermox." He is otherwise well, and active and happy; so I add pinworms to my list of things to bear with grace and patience today---pinworms, sadness, and this time of separation while Chris is at camp.

thanks for checking in.

talking shop

2011-05-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

Chris leaves for camp on Wednesday. The next 48 hours will be a flurry of activity and pulling last minute details together, especially considering how he's out tonight at an ECC board meeting and hasn't yet started to pack....I am thankful to be somewhat removed from the immediate departure, even though the camp office is busier than usual and about to go through its annual spring upheaval.....Reports from the lake are that the ice is clear through to MacKinnon (last year they had to walk across!), and damage to the site over the winter was minimal, as it goes---a few chimneys taken down by sliding snow, the first aid kits rifled through, and the scat of a largish animal in various corners of the dining hall. Pete Dearborn can fill in details. But the site committee got the plumbing up and going and the boats are all in, including a new replacement for the 50, ready for action.

A further update: Chris' recent MRI (May 2nd) showed "no change," and he's gained a decent 20lbs over the winter, which after 2 years of chemo and its monthly bout of nausea, is good news, but also means he may have to consider increasing his anti-seizure meds a tad to keep things stable. Sometimes I worry for him---he's so immersed in work and the camp world, which is very dynamic and demanding, that he forgets to take care of himself---eating healthy, exercising, and the little things that help him maintain the breakneck pace. We'll see how this season goes. I feel a bit like a veteran camp wife, talking shop and mustering her courage to ship out for another season. I already miss my friend Joy---her knowing look from across the table when our husbands rush in late for a meal, smelling of boat fuel and urgency. I think I will bide my time in the city for a while longer, coaxing my garden to life and enjoying a few more meals on the back deck....

thanks for your thoughts and prayers.

May 8th 2011---Easter 3A

2011-05-08T16:27:00.000-07:00

I came across the following quote as I prepared to speak [at Exchange Community Church] this week, and I really liked it, but wasn’t sure where to incorporate it, so I may as well just start with it: “The texts for the third Sunday of Easter are not for the fainthearted. They are about pounding hearts, wounded hearts and burning hearts. And they invite us to encounter the living Christ in the heart of who we are....'to believe' is not a matter of the mind, but a matter of the heart. For what we 'believe' is what we 'give our heart to.' --- Susan R. Andrews

To be honest, these were quite weighty texts for this week, and it was hard to know how to approach things. Luckily, one of the passages is one of my most favourite stories ever, what is known as “The Road to Emmaus.” So, I’d like to walk a while together down this road and listen in on the conversation Luke recounts. But first, I want to briefly recall the gist of my Easter Sunday reflection, because I want to build an the idea, namely, how it seems like most of Jesus’ disciples and followers didn’t hear or understand what He explicitly explained to them about His death and resurrection. It was only when they encountered Jesus resurrected, that His words become interpretable and real to them, and transformed their lives.

So in Luke 24:13-35, we have two of Jesus’ followers, not central characters from His inner circle of disciples, but somehow connected to them, and they are travelling by foot “to a village named Emmaus, which was about seven miles from Jerusalem. And they were talking with each other about all these things which had taken place.” [namely, Christ’s trial and crucifixion, and then perplexing rumours that His tomb was now empty.]

“While they were talking and discussing, Jesus Himself approached and began traveling with them.” I’ve always wondered at this point, where was Jesus going? Was this a chance encounter, or did Jesus have these two particular guys in mind as He left wherever He had been and headed out for an evening stroll, figuring He’d just put Himself out there and see what would happen?....

Verse 16 says that “their eyes were prevented from recognizing Him.” And I wonder why. Did He look different than He had before His death (which had been brutal torture)? Or was Jesus intentionally concealing Himself, and how? I wonder, at this point, what it is they need to hear or understand before they are able or allowed to recognize Him. That is to say, I wonder if the didn’t see Him because they were not expecting to. Remember, Jesus was supposed to be dead. Even though He had told them He’d rise again, that is the unimaginable new paradigm.

“And He said to them, ‘What are these words that you are exchanging with one another as you are walking?’ And they stood still, looking sad.” I am thankful to Luke for this line, and I can immediately identify with this forlorn posture---being at a complete loss, grieving, even seemingly so shell shocked, they have to stop walking. I’ve been there. And it almost makes me feel like I am there---standing on that road with them. It puts me in their place, as I acknowledge the sadness in my own life.

“One of them, named Cleopas, answered and said to Him, [‘What are you, new?!’ ] Not exactly, but rather, ‘Are You the only one visiting Jerusalem and unaware of the things which have happened here in these days?’ And He said to them, ‘What things?’ And they said to Him, ‘The things about Jesus the Nazerene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word in the sight of God and all the people, and how the chief priests and our rulers delivered Him to the sentence of death, and crucified Him. But we were hoping that it was He who was going to redeem Israel. Indeed, besides all this, it is the third day since these things happened.” It must have been both fascinating and actually depressing for Jesus to hear this synopsis of His last few days. It seems apparent that these 2 followers don’t know who Jesus is, either at this moment, nor before all this occurred. They make no reference to Jesus’ stated purpose that He was God’s own Son, come to die in order to redeem and restore mankind’s relationship with God, and that He would rise again. They didn’t get it; you could say, they were unenlightened; viewing things instead from a narrow, political interpretation according to how many of His followers had hoped Jesus would be---overthrowing the Roman oppressors and establishing a Jewish state.

The men continue, “But also some women among us amazed us. When they were at the tomb early in the morning, and did not find His body, they came, saying that they had also seen a vision of angels who said that He was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just exactly as the women also had said; but Him they did not see.”

“And [Jesus] said to them, ‘O foolish men, and slow of heart to believe in all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and to enter into His glory?’ Then beginning with Moses and with all the prophets, He explained to them the things concerning Himself in all the Scriptures.” This, I would think, would be the most incredible Bible study ever to sit in on!

And here, I want to take a short detour from the Emmaus Road, and look briefly at 2 other of our lectionary texts, to underscore an important point: that is, the centrality of Scripture, and how we need the Holy Spirit to open the eyes of our hearts and minds to understand it.

Acts chapter 2 verses14 to 47 is the passage that describes how the early church began, and interestingly enough, it is Peter, standing in front of a large crowd in Jerusalem during the feast of Pentecost, giving testimony to who Jesus Christ was, and how He had fulfilled all the scriptures according to what the prophets had foretold. Peter basically quotes verse after verse, and afterwards, his teaching is so compelling, that the text says the crowds were “pierced to the heart,” and three thousand people were baptized there and then, and became followers of Christ.

Peter also reiterates the importance and power of scripture in his first letter, 1 Peter 1:17-25, testifying to how Christ “was foreknown before the foundation of the world,”...and how those who believe are “born again not of a seed which is perishable but imperishable, that is, through the living and enduring word of God... ‘The word of the Lord endures forever.’ And this is the word which was preached to you.”

All that is to ask, how are we reading and understanding our Bibles? God has been and is trying to communicate to us through His word, telling us who Christ is and why He came to die; telling us how much He loves us and of the peace that is available to us if we trust in Him.

I would have loved to have heard Jesus explain everything about Himself that Moses and Isaiah and King David, and Daniel, Hosea, Zephaniah---all the prophets had said about Him. It’s like getting the ultimate insider’s scoop, and no doubt exhibited an incredible command of memory and knowledge. He basically had the entire Old Testament memorized!

Which bring us back to Emmaus, and what I think is one of the most pivotal moments in Scripture, Luke 24:28-29 “And they approached the village where they were going, and He acted as though He were going farther.” Where was He going, I wonder? “But they urged Him saying, ‘Stay with us, for it is getting toward evening, and the day is now nearly over.’ So He went in to stay with them.” These men still do not know who Jesus is, but something noticeable has changed in their posture---from sad and down-hearted, to a hospitable, sincere openness, that would urge a stranger to come in from the night and welcome him in their home. I think this made Jesus happy. I think this was the change or demonstration that was necessary for Jesus to finally be seen for who He was. I may be wrong, but it’s worth thinking about. We talk a lot about hospitality at ECC, and for the most part, we do okay. But when was the last time we welcomed each other into our homes, for a meal, or into a deeper conversation, maybe about the sadness or longing in our lives, and then open Scripture and pray together and listen to what God wants to say to us? Are we inviting Jesus into our lives, our church, our homes, our sadness, our anxieties, our joys? We welcome Jesus when we show hospitality to strangers and to each other. And that enables us to meet Him, to see Him in new ways.

These men were ordinary, almost anonymous characters in the story, but Jesus initiates not just a revelation but a relationship with them.“When He had reclined at the table with them, He took the bread and blessed it, and breaking it, He began giving it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized Him; and He vanished from their sight. They said to one another, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while He was speaking to us on the road, while He was explaining the Scriptures to us?’ And they got up that very hour and returned to Jerusalem, and found gathered together the eleven and those who were with them, saying, ‘The Lord has really risen and has appeared to Simon.’ They began to relate their experiences on the road and how He was recognized by them in the breaking of the bread.”

Christ opened their eyes to recognize Him, and “He opened their minds to understand the Scriptures” [Luke 24:45]. I think the two go hand in hand, and I think we can pray for this opening and this understanding.

Jesus wants to walk with us, as forlorn, anxious, ignorant, or joyful and perhaps well-adjusted as we may be. But there will be a pivotal moment---will we be hospitable, and urge Him to stay?

porch life

2011-05-07T07:03:00.000-07:00

the colours of spring

2011-05-05T05:50:00.000-07:00

As simple as we try to keep things, and as much as I enjoy a thorough spring cleaning, there are 3 things which I believe Ben can't have too many off: 1)books 2) legos 3) and crayons. I am rediscovering the joy of a new box of crayons. It's one of the few things that has to be brand name (call me a crayon snob, but cheap imitations just won't do) in order to get the full benefits of that distinct, waxy smell, and the vibrancy of colours. Somewhere in the world, some lucky person has my ultimate dream job: naming the colours in a box of Crayolas...."wisteria," "orchid," "mauvelous," "magenta," "plum," "violet," "purple mountains' majesty," and those are just a few of the purples, to say nothing of the other genres, including "periwinkle," "bittersweet," "burnt sienna," and yes, it's true, "robin's egg" blue, and "macaroni and cheese" orange. All wonderful and inspiring, like the arrival of spring!

May 1st in Winnipeg

2011-05-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

calming words

2011-05-01T08:04:00.001-07:00

"...I believe fear is one of the primary contributing factors to ill health of any kind....We live in a culture where stress is an integral part of our everyday existence. In order to grow in health, happiness, and wisdom, we need to continually create ways to rise about it while discovering and becoming comfortable with the true meaning of life as well as death. I have found the Serenity Prayer extremely comforting both for myself and for the patients who often ask me, 'what are my chances?' or 'Do you think I'm going to make it?'

God, grant me the ability to change the things in my life that I can change, the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, and the wisdom to know the difference.

...What is real is prayer and support by family and friends. We need to believe that God is forgiving and merciful and can offer help, love, and peace to troubled souls. To do God's will involves patience, persistence, and surrender. If one is able to focus on God and not on cancer, guidance and direction will follow. When we pray, we are able to understand and receive grace that inspires the depths of our spirit to allow room for peace and healing. Prayer is to the soul what breathing is to the body."

from Donald Yance's Herbal Medicine, Healing & Cancer

"Dismiss all anxiety from your minds. Present your needs to God in every form of prayer and in petitions full of gratitude. Then God's own peace, which is beyond all understanding, will stand guard over your hearts and minds." Letter of Paul to the Philippians 4:6-7

the engine light was on

2011-04-30T16:35:00.000-07:00

A while ago, I blogged about the analogy of stress being like a yellow or red light at a traffic intersection (see:http://milnesojourns.blogspot.com/2010/02/slow-down.html). At the time, I was reflecting how the actions/non-actions of other people could be sources of stress in my life and I made a note: "Don't be a speeding car behind someone who's stressed."

I had a strange yet informative experience the other week, that reiterated to me how my own stress can have a ripple affect, and negatively influence the people around me, but not just people....Mine is the personality type (type 1 re. the enneagram model) that can quite easily blow things out of proportion and take on more responsibility than is required. There are a few factors conspiring against me, but the truth is, I cause my own duress by putting pressure on myself to accomplish everything to a high standard and trick myself into thinking I'm indispensable. It's what made me a very good student in university---that "eldest child," type-A, perfectionist personality, who'd have her papers done 2 weeks in advance so she could edit them ad nauseum. I had a decent GPA.

But it's a lot to carry in the daily grind, juggling a host of roles and responsibilities, especially in the context of seasonal camp work. Camp life is intense. But only stressful if you let it get to you. I am definitely feeling the weight of responsibility as parents entrust their children to our care for a week or two this summer. Maybe I feel this more because of all my worries on Ben's behalf. All that to say, I quite easily stress myself out beyond what is reasonable, and it doesn't make me the nicest person to live with.

It was while in this heighten state, sometime during the day's commute, that I noticed the engine light on in the car. sigh. This would count at the 3rd time in 2 months. The first time it was on for a few days, but turned off the day I had scheduled an appointment at our trusted mechanic's. The 2nd time, it actually stayed on, but all the mechanic could say was that it was a faulty sensor, no real problem to speak of. This time it kept glowing for over a week, and so we arranged to drop it off one morning and retrieve it after work. No problem. Except when I got into work that morning and sat down in front of my computer, I had no internet. I should add, at this point, that this is my 2nd computer since starting as office administrator this past fall. For some reason, the first lasted only a month before the motherboard completely melted down. This new one was preforming well. I assumed it was the connection for our entire office, but no, just my computer. And not having internet at work is like, well, sitting in front of a dead weight all day, watching the work I needed to do pile up like a tidal wave. Fortunately, my husband was able to work his IT magic and get it working, but it took a while, and cut into a chunk of his own day's work.

It was with some relief that the day ended, but also dread, because I knew I'd have to walk back into the office and face everything left unfinished. But oh well. Time to pick up the car and see what the damage was. Except that when I entered the shop, the guy at the desk had a peculiar smirk.

"So, what's wrong?' I inquired.

He paused, as if carefully considering his choice of words. I feared the worse. But instead, "Are you sure the engine light was on when you dropped it off this morning?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Was the light on? Or had it been on during the week but gone off?" he repeated.

"It was definitely on," I said. "I've been driving with it on for about 8 or 9 days now."

"Strange," he said. "We've taken it out for 5 separate test drives and there's been no light at all. When we scan the memory nothing comes up." He sat and looked at me, with a what-else-can-I-say expression of benevolence.

Have you ever heard of those people who have some sort of skewed personal magnetic force, that when they walk near machines or electronics, things flicker and weird out?

Yeah, that would be me. Or more precisely, that's me on stress. And if it has that sort of impact on the microchips in my life (to say nothing of my own digestive system), no doubt it profoundly affects my loved ones---I am that speeding, out of control car, smashing into the crash barriers, stumbling out of the cloud of smoke and debris with the imprint of an airbag etched into my face.

There are enough warning lights ahead: just say no to stress.

Easter Sunday

2011-04-24T17:02:00.000-07:00

The Word: Hidden in Plain Sight

Luke 24:1-12 The Resurrection

¹But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb bringing the spices which they had prepared.²And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb,³but when they entered, they did not find the body ofthe Lord Jesus.⁴While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men suddenly stood near them in dazzling clothing;⁵and as the women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, "Why do you seek the living One among the dead?⁶"He is not here, but He has risen. Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee,⁷saying that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again."⁸And they remembered His words,⁹and returned from the tomb and reported all these things to the eleven and to all the rest.¹⁰Now they were Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James; also the other women with them were telling these things to the apostles.¹¹But these words appeared to them as nonsense, and they would not believe them.¹²But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings only; and he went away to his home, marveling at what had happened.

This text is an interesting snapshot, as it were, of the very first “Easter morning.” There are a couple lines that struck me as I read through. In verse 6, the two “men in dazzling clothing” tell the women at the tomb: “Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee.” Then in verse 11, when the women brought their report to the disciples, it says: “But these words appeared to them as nonsense, and they would not believe them.”

It would seem that while Jesus walked and lived among his friends and followers, so much of what he shared and taught didn’t quite stick. They heard him, but they didn’t get it. Crazy stuff went down just like he told them it would, but they didn’t remember. He then basically spends the time between his resurrection and ascension reminding people of everything he’d been saying for three years, with one obvious but crucial difference---they were now encountering Jesus Christ in a profoundly new way, that it, resurrected.

In his devotional classic, My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers entitles his reflection for April 7^th, “Why are we not told plainly?” Sometimes it may seem like our faith is more historical, based on past accounts of God’s interactions with other people, rather than on our own personal, present-day experience. Or maybe our faith appears antiquated or contextual instead of relevant and applicable to me, my life, right now. Often our faith seems more obscure and full of questions than it does simple or clear. How, if at all, can God come into my life, my circumstances, into my heart, in a way I can recognize and trust?

The truth is, I believe, He does. We are, very often, told plainly. Just as Christ specifically and explicitly told His followers what was going to happen. But, to paraphrase Chambers, until the life of the risen Christ is formed in me, I can’t understand the word Jesus has spoken, because I am not in the place, or of the disposition where it can be borne---that’s borne with an ‘e;’---meaning: carried, held, embodied--- and that is my new insight into resurrection. Until (through the redemption bought by Christ’s death, and through the work of the Holy Spirit) I carry the resurrected life of Christ within me, my life will not be the soil needed for the Word to grow in. God doesn’t hide Himself or any understanding from us. But some things, some truths, are inconceivable, unbearable, unimaginable, until I meet the resurrected Christ, and my spirit becomes receptive to this new, resurrected reality. “There must be communion with His risen life before a particular word can be borne by us,” Chambers writes. “The evidence that we [have this relationship] is that His word is becoming interpretable to us.” That is, we are starting to get it, to remember, to live it. Chambers continues, “God cannot reveal anything to us if we [don’t] have His Spirit. An obstinate outlook will effectually hinder God from revealing anything to us. If we have made up our minds about a doctrine, the life of God will come no more to us on that line, we cannot get it.”

In this brief story, this post-crucifixion account of the first Easter morning, the disciples have made up their minds. To them, Jesus is dead. They would not believe the women’s report or begin to imagine the possibility that things could be otherwise, despite the fact that Jesus had plainly, repeatedly told them He would rise again. The truth was hidden in plain sight---their spirits could not yet see it.

Chambers explains how “this obtuse stage will end immediately [when] Christ’s resurrection life has its way with us.” In the story, the women at the empty tomb receive this new revelation; and it is also Peter, the impulsive one, who runs to the tomb to verify what the women have told him. And what he finds when he gets there begins the profound paradigm shift---from death, resignation, and hopelessness, to an open and empty tomb, and a transformative encounter with the resurrected Jesus Christ.

I pray, that we would have this encounter this Easter, this day---that Jesus’ resurrection life would have its way with us. Holy Spirit, would you open the eyes of our hearts and would the profound power of Jesus’ death and resurrection change us, be in us. Father, draw us closer to you. Amen.

on lawns, part 1

2011-04-24T12:20:00.001-07:00

We're starting to move outdoors....This Easter weekend has been spent resurrecting the backyard: leveling our woebegone dirt pile, rebuilding the garden wall, and preparing the space for grass seed. Seeing as how the weeds have a considerable head start on our efforts, we've sown corn gluten to try and circumvent any further germination. That treatment needs to sit for about a month before we try and grow a lawn---something hardy, that can put up with our partly shaded, varied soil---rocks and clay in one section, a bit of sand, and then peat in another. I'm cautiously optimistic. Of course, no task proves straightforward when you live in a house that is 100 years old. This year we discovered the outdoor faucet has virtually no water pressure, most likely due to the horizontal galvanized pipe having corroded and clogged. So, we jot that on the never-ending list of home work projects, and I buy the biggest watering can I can find to haul around and feebly attempt to wet the earth. An exercise in futility. A few days of rain would be helpful, and I imagine it is very stressful to be a farmer, at the mercy of nature. But it has felt truly wonderful to get out and putter in the dirt.

The backyard is definitely an on-going work in progress (to say nothing of the front yard, which is its own sorry patch!) Our small corner of real estate continues to evolve each spring as we shake off winter's slumber, and try to get out and boost our vitamin D levels. My plan is modest---besides the grass, just a few vegetables in the plot (butternut squash, zucchini, chard, and melons); a couple tomato plants, and then hanging planters for herbs---a jardin francis, as it were, a small french potager garden, with sage and thyme, greek basil and golden oragano; one planter of pansies and ivy for colour, and of course calendula wherever I can fit it in....Most of this will have to run by itself, as we shift out to MacKinnon island for another camp season come June (Chris leaves in May, but Ben and I linger until school is finished). But I wanted to have a nice backyard to come home to, instead of just sitting on the back deck, staring at a tangle of weeds that by mid-July stand about shoulder-high and have the nerve to stare back....

Further updates on the lawn and on life (life of the lawn?) to follow. I suspect each will inform the other as the spring unfolds and we launch into summer....

springish

2011-04-18T17:45:00.000-07:00

Spring has a particular trajectory when you work at a seasonal camp. Right now, things are starting to ramp up---I'm busy in the office processing staff applications and camper registrations. Chris is working on LIT interviews (choosing the leader in training program participants for this year), putting together all the details for the spring staff team, and helping with some planning for canoe school which runs over the May long weekend. All forecasts predict that the ice will be gone by the time the spring staff team (including Chris) head out mid May (you may recall that they actually hiked out to the island on the ice last year!) Flood waters are rising in the province, with the rivers expected to crest in a couple weeks. Ben and I will head out to camp after Ben finishes school in June. He is loving his mornings at montessori, especially now that he and his buddies can go outside and play. There are three of them that the teachers have taken to calling the "3 Amigos." They stick together like velcro: Benji, Sheppard, and Rhys. They sit with their chairs so close together in circle time each morning, that they guy in the middle gets squished. It's very cute and also very interesting---that Ben could be so young, and yet still have affinities towards particular friends. What draws one person to another? It's a mystery, but the three boys are inseparable as they navigate the social stratospheres of pre-school....

As I mentioned the other day, just when you start entertaining the idea of taking the plastic off the windows, and packing the long underwears and snowpants away for the season, of course, the weather shifts, and you find your self mid-April with snow falling. As in, accumulating on the ground, let's make a snow fort, falling. sigh. welcome to spring in Winnipeg. But it's finally supposed to warm again this weekend, and hopefully I can get around to a bit of a spring clean.

that's it for now. pretty basic, but quite busy. I'm slotted to share a few thoughts this Easter Sunday at church along with Doug and also Judy, so you can anticipate a future post on the resurrection.

on loss...a good Lenten poem

2011-04-16T08:55:00.000-07:00

One Art
Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

further

2011-04-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my friend Dustin for the following reminder from 'The Last Battle' by C.S. Lewis, when the Narnia folk begin to run in Aslan's country.....

"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this. Bree-hee-hee! Come further up, come further in!"

He shook his mane and sprang forward into a great gallop - a Unicorn's gallop, which, in our world, would have carried him out of sight in a few moments. But now a most strange thing happened. Everyone else began to run, and they found, to their astonishment, that they could keep up with him: not only the Dogs and the humans but even fat little Puzzle and short-legged Poggin the Dwarf. The air flew in their faces as if they were driving fast in a car without a windscreen. The country flew past as if they were seeing it from the windows of an express train. Faster and faster they raced, but no one got hot or tired or out of breath.

If one could run without getting tired, I don't think one would often want to do anything else.

Inside my present so...much past

2011-04-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

I had an informative experience one summer during my college years, I can't remember if it was between my sophomore and junior, or junior and senior years, or could have even been earlier. But it was during one of my visits home from Wheaton College to Colorado Springs, when I had a chance to do one of the things I loved doing during those years when I was in much better shape---trail running in the foothills. I had particular favourite runs, some starting right outside our backyard. I'd hop the fence and head right up section 16 of the Barr Trail (the trail that eventually led all the way up Pike's Peak). Or I'd drive a short ways to other trail sections, park the car, and just go---early morning runs, runs on rainy days through the mist, afternoon runs with the red rocks radiating heat like an oven, evening runs with the setting light glancing off the path and bringing the day to a satisfying close. Memorable runs.

But none quite as memorable as the run, one Saturday morning, when I drove to the path that went right through the centre of town---a public trail, flanked by parks and apartments, following a small creek, and popular with dog walkers and moms out with kids. A "city" run with lots of foot traffic compared to most of my choices, where I'd go for a couple hours and not see anyone. It was mid-morning. I told my parents where I was headed and when I'd be back. No worries.

I started out. I didn't run with a watch to keep time, or bother to keep track of distance. I had learned back in high school during a very short stint on the track team that running was something I enjoyed for myself, not competition. I ran for the sheer freedom and rhythm of running, and truly appreciated being able to run in such a beautiful place. My mind would switch off, and it would be a sort of zen-like experience to just feel my legs stretching, my body moving and my breath synchronizing.

But today, over halfway through my run, something strangely, abruptly interupted this flow. It was the one minute of the entire run when I was completely alone, no one else in sight, as I came near to a stand of trees about 10 metres or so off the trail. In my peripheral vision, I saw movement in the trees, and then a man, coming in my direction, entirely naked save for a blue baseball hat perched high on his head. It happened so quickly I don't remember having a chance to think, I just reacted instinctively, turning my gaze directly ahead and quickening my pace. I began to run for self-preservation---an entirely new, pulse-ramping motivation than I had ever experienced before. Run, just run. Don't stop running!....And then it was over. I was past the trees, over the rise, and had re-entered the world I had known. Except it wasn't the same. I stopped the next jogger on the path and informed him of what was now behind me. And as soon as I got back to the car, I called 911 to report the encounter. I was okay. Unharmed. But unnerved.

My parents were understandably concerned when I got home and debriefed the incident. There seemed to be no more I could do to report it or protect others. So that was kind of it. Except that in the following days, I found that I became, of all things, angry---angrier and angrier each day---enraged, actually. Probably the maddest I've been in my life, all directed at some anonymous, obviously sick individual who had, in one predatory violation, taken away from me the joy and love of my life---the freedom of my solitary runs in the mountains. When I think of him now, it seems crazy and even laughable. But the anger remains. From that moment on, I was not able to run in the same places where I had before, and any run took substantial courage and weighing of risks and vulnerability. It was actually good in that sense---I had learned the commonsense that every woman must have in order to make wise decisions regarding her personal safety. There are just some places where I should not and cannot go alone. But the truth is this wisdom had come at high cost. I had not been physically violated, but I had been robbed. And I hated him for it, and the sin that had so corrupted the earth and tainted my innocence.

I realize this may be hard for some people to read. If you have ever found yourself compromised in a vulnerable situation it is terrifying and traumatic. But it was actually quite profound for me this past week to recall this past experience, and also disconcerting for me to draw a parallel to my life in the present. Since Chris' seizure in June 2008, I have had a very similar but also amplified unsettling. It was as if my innocence and joy was stolen, not from just my occasional runs in the foothills, but from each and every day. All of a sudden, at any moment, something life-threatening and traumatic could happen. To Chris, to me, to Ben. Instead of a naked man in the trees, it is fear itself, breathing down my neck, chasing me, stealing the freedom and peace I once had. And on some days, it consumes me.

I write all of this after a particularly anxious week. I could write, in great detail, for pages and pages, all the things I have been worried about. If Ben has an itch, I think of the worst possible thing itchiness could be a symptom of. When I find traces of mice in the cupboard, suddenly there's an airborne virus in my house, and I literally douse the floors and walls with bleach to be rid of it. And all the while, I'm angry---angry at myself for being so out of control, angry at cancer for entering my family, angry at google for providing too much information to feed my fears. It's craziness. "It's like you need some big thing to be worried about," Chris observed. "It makes the whole fabric of life very stressful. What I want to know is how you could go running again?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"After the time with the guy, how could you ever decide to go out and go running again? You ran in college, you've always run since we've been married, and you run here. How can you run?"

"Well, I just run wiser." I said "Though I probably run less, and in boring places, but I still have to get out. I still need exercise." Hmmmmmmm.....And he is good enough to not launch into a lecture and scold me and tell me to buck up and just get on with living, though I know he really would like to.

There is such a thing as healing, and it takes time. There is such a God as the One who vanquishes fear, and restores innocence lost, and who empowers His children to get out and run again in full freedom and joy. I just need to let Him.

knit your own royal wedding

2011-04-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

A copy of an illustration from a book entitled:"Knit Your Own Royal Wedding" by Fiona Goble

track 5

2011-04-05T14:23:00.000-07:00

http://www.jamesvmcmorrow.com/music/early_in_the_morning/we_dont_eat/

April 3rd, 2011: Lent 4 “Mothering Sunday”

2011-04-03T17:35:00.000-07:00

The following is my written account of what I had to share at Exchange Church this evening. The written account is considerably smoother than my actual delivery. In reality, I feel like it was the roughest time I've had sharing up front since agreeing to join the teaching team. On any given Sunday there's such a diverse group of people at church, and I didn't want to assume that I could solely draw on my own childhood or experience as a mother, to address the topic of children in our community. I hit upon the idea that if I could get people to participate and share some characteristics they attributed to children vs. adults, it could be a more informative discussion. And everyone seemed to engage and participate when I opened things up. The problem for me is that when I open the discussion, I'm not very good at synthesizing, summarizing, and then redirecting ideas back to something of substance to help anchor the conversation. I didn't identify or articulate a theme or kernel of thought beforehand, to help myself stay on track. So I felt scattered and that I wasn't able to communicate very clearly. But, I learned a lot.....here it is..

April 3rd, 2011: Lent 4 “Mothering Sunday”

So, it’s really an honour for me to speak today, and it will be different than my usual approach in that I was given more of a topic to address than the usual practice of going through and speaking on our lectionary readings (though I will touch on a couple in due course…). Doug’s email mentioned that tonight would be a time to focus on the place of children in our lives, church, culture, and our attitude towards them. It’s rather timely for me to be speaking on this, as my family and I celebrated Benjamin Samuel McKinney’s 4^th birthday this past week. But it’s true that this is something I didn’t really think about much before I was contemplating the prospects of becoming a parent, when the reality is that in some way or another, and often at a profound level, we have all been shaped by the attitudes the adults in our lives, (be it parents, aunts & uncles, teachers, coaches, camp counselors, etc.) have had towards children---we were all children once, so I believe this is something worth considering, not just as a parents or potential parents, but as whomever we are as we interact with the children in our lives, and especially as we interact together in a church community.

Thinking about what to say tonight was a good exercise for me this week, and allowed me to take a step back and ponder a few questions about children. I realized that I actually hold some tensions in regards to how I perceive and respond to kids, and I want us to explore that a bit.

3 particular tensions I identified were:

1. The place/perception of children in our culture, as either marginalized vs. child-centric

I really struggle with this first tension as it applies particularly to us in North American. But I want to be careful that I don’t launch into a rant at this point. Suffice to say, I think we do a disservice to children when we underestimate or undermine their personhood and their needs, but we also do a disservice to children when we focus on and direct all of the family’s resources towards catering to their needs, wants, and whims. Of course parents want the very best for their kids, but my problem is when it is my culture who defines what qualifies as “best,” or even “good” and then exerts incredible pressure on me to buy in. There is much more I could say, but I wanted to touch on this tension because I think we need to be aware what our culture’s perspective and attitude towards children is, to understand how God, through the church, can offer an alternative perspective and approach---one that values children, but doesn’t enthrone them.

I want to explore the next tension by asking for your participation. I want to look at the qualities that come to mind as we compare and contrast:

2. Children vs. Adults: the following qualities were suggested (and many others I’ve forgotten….)

innocent

trusting

noisy

messy/dirty

sense of wonder

abused

self-centred

imaginative

creative

naïve

questioning

accepting

simple

truthful

too many

boring

guardians

caregivers

hard

social norms

closed

self-centred

conditioned

objective

complicated

jaded

worried

exhausted

responsibilities

3. The final tension I want to explore is articulated in one of ECC’s Guiding Values:

Wise & Child-like: “We have found that social situations are usually complex and often systemic, and yet we also believe that our faith requires actions despite our limited understanding. We value the tension created by this demand for careful study and the counter-demand to simply act; employing all of our combined knowledge, experiences, and abilities to discern more just, loving, and liberating expressions of our faith in all its manifestations while purposefully and tangibly living the simplicity of the gospel.”

This tension is making some assumptions about children, that we should ask if we agree with or not. It attributes a certain simplicity and impulsiveness to children vs. a more thoughtful, perhaps studied and cautious approach of adults. Is child-like the right word to use here? What are some ways in which we see this tension in play at ECC?

One example of this tension that I see in our community is the desire to provide food for people after each service. We recognize eating together as a time to get to know each other and share with each other, and also provide food for people who are hungry. We want to provide this time and meet this need. However, there are such things as food handling protocols and safe ways to heat and serve food. All it would take is for one person to get sick after a potluck for Exchange Community Church to never be able to serve or share food again. How do we meet this need, but do so in an informed, appropriate way? We need to figure this out.

From the texts….Okay, the main reason I wanted to talk about these tensions was to get an idea of where we are coming from before we take a look at what the scriptures have to say about children. There are several instances in the Bible of Christ interacting directly with children. In Matthew 19:13-15 Jesus is walking and teaching amongst the crowds of people who have come to see him. It says, “Then some children were brought to [Jesus] so that He might lay His hands on them and pray; and the disciples rebuked them [the parents]. But Jesus said, "Let the children alone, and do not hinder them from coming to Me; forthe kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."After laying His hands on them, He departed from there.” I think, though in all honesty, I haven’t studied the historical context of this passage, that children were often marginalized and devalued in Christ’s culture, as they still are in many places in our world today. Jesus acts towards them as he does towards all people who are marginalized (women, tax collectors, lepers, etc.)---He acts in a counter-cultural and redemptive way, with love and grace.

Another interaction between Jesus and children is in Matthew 18:2-4 “[Jesus] called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

It is interesting in both instances that Jesus clearly states that the Kingdom of Heaven is for the childlike. Based on our discussion today, what does this mean? What qualities of children/child-likeness is Jesus getting at that we are to emulate?

What would it mean to “become like little children?”

The New Testament reading from our lectionary texts today is from Ephesians 5:8-14“For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly;but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says, “Sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

This is a very beautiful passage, with a lot of contrasts at play. It seems to attribute a certain innocence, liveliness, and productivity---an “of the light-ness”---to children, vs. an unfruitful, secretive, shameful and sluggish/numb world of adults. These verses highlight the childlike quality of wanting to please a loving father. A really great resource that Doug and Judy gave Chris and I when Ben was born is the book entitled Raising Resilient Children: Fostering Strength, Hope, and Optimism in Your Child (RRC). I highly recommend it for anyone who cares about children. A really interesting observation that the authours of this book make is that children seem to have an innate desire to please and to help other people. “Children come into the world with a need to be helpful and valued,” they say. “We believe that children possess an inborn need or drive to help and make a positive difference in the lives of others…and [they] generally welcome invitations to be of assistance. [However] many parents tell us that their children have lost this drive by the middle childhood years.” The authours strongly advocate that parents continually nurture this innate helpfulness starting by age 3 (or earlier) by designating one activity to become the child’s responsibility---not the same as giving the child a chore---but asking for their specific help, and communicating that “You are a valuable person with something to offer others.” We’ve seen this so much with Ben---he loves to help sort the laundry into piles or put the clean cutlery away when we empty the dishwasher---simple things, but ways which he can help the family and participate in our community. So I want to reiterate today, that you are a valuable person, with something to offer others. Let’s nurture value and helpfulness in each other. And more importantly, the desire to live in a way that pleases our Heavenly Father, according to what He deems good, right, and true.

For the practical application part of this discussion tonight, I wanted to share, if you will indulge me, 4 more things Ben has taught me about God, my faith, and life:

1. These days, Ben is really into making “colourish” drawings (by “colourish” he means “colourful”---it took us a while to figure that out.) Ben has a fantastic imagination, and the ability to see invisible things in his colouring books: potholes in the pathway, footprints under a dog’s paws, rain coming down from the clouds, etc. These are things that aren’t explicitly in the picture, but exist in his mind, nonetheless, the footprints traipsing right off the page into the room! He’s learning how to “colour inside the lines”---adopting our social norms, as it were, but he is still able be creative and imagine other possibilities. What he imagines aren’t just concepts at arm’s length, but are actually present, and presenced in his world. I would argue that most of our faith is imaginary, but no less real than what we see and touch in our surroundings. It takes a prophetic and holy imagination to presence what we know and believe to be true about God and love and grace, in our world.

Matthew 21:15-17 describes the time leading up to Christ’s crucifixion, when he enters the city of Jerusalem and “When the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and [saw] the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.“Do you hear what these children are saying?” they asked him. “Yes,” replied Jesus, “have you never read,” ‘From the lips of children and infants you, Lord, have called forth your praise’?” It was the children, not the learned and religious scholars, who recognized who Jesus actually was. We should pay attention to what and how our kids are seeing.

2. Sing praises, or at least sing bedtime songs…Over the last year and a bit I’ve actually been struggling with not feeling very well physically, and that has definitely affected me spiritually and emotionally as well. The last thing I’ve felt able to do is “sing a joyful song.” I’ve been in few church situations in the last couple years that have felt like cross-cultural experiences, with everyone singing praise and worship songs I’ve never heard before, and me just standing there. I’ve actually been somewhat relieved that that’s not a primary expression of life at ECC. But, interestingly, each night as part of Ben’s bedtime routine, he asks me to come into his room and tuck him in and sing songs. My song repertoire is quite eclectic---songs my mother used to sing to me, combined with a healthy dose of Raffi tunes, and selections from our own customized MPC camp songbook, which has a lot of old hymns. And, on most nights, especially the ones after days when I’ve been exhausted and grumpy, this has become a profound worship experience for me, singing these simple words of truth in the darkness. They are songs I hope Ben remembers and can hearken back to in the future when he’s struggling and questioning. “Yes, Jesus loves me.”

3. Chris and Ben are having an ongoing discussion about how behaviours and actions come with this thing called consequences, or “kwansequences,” as Ben calls them. In fact, he’s now at the point where Chris will just give him a particular look as Ben is considering some naughty or previously discouraged action, and Ben will preemptively ask: “Are there going to be kwansequences?” The answer is yes. The scary thing is that in some ways, Ben seems to be years ahead of understanding this reality compared with some of the camp staff Chris and I interact with each summer; these are young adults who see absolutely no correlation between being a cabin leader or ‘spiritual mentor’ to children at camp for a few weeks in July, and then going home and posting photos from a drunken party on their facebook page which parents just so happen to have access to via their child’s account who is a camper whom the staff has befriended.

In the chapter on helping children develop a sense of responsibility, compassion, and a social conscience, the authors of RRC state: “The act of learning to accept responsibilities implies that children have developed many characteristics associated with a resilient mindset, including, empathy, …[and] an appreciation of how their behaviours impact on others…” Instead of seeing himself as the centre of the family or of his world, I see my job as helping Ben to learn how he is part of a community---our family, camp, church, school, our neighbourhood, etc. And helping him see that his choices and behaviors have a direct impact on other people. I need to be aware of the kwansequences my actions or moods or even facial expressions have, for better and for worse, and the impact they have on the people around me. This touches on the idea of congruency that I talked about several Sunday’s ago---God wants to help me do the best I can to live as attentive and authentic follower of Christ. This will have an affect on and consequences in my life, just as disregarding Him and living unto myself will. I have the freedom to choose.

4. The other day Ben and I had the following conversation while I was getting dressed and organized and ready to head out the door. Ben wandered into my room, driving a truck along the bed, and started chatting about a number of things “I’m a pretend truck,” he said, “and I’m driving to school,” and then, as an afterthought, “Mom, where’s Jesus?” “Hmmmm,” I responded, still only half paying attention as I puttered, “He’s with God, and He is all around us because He’s a spirit, but He’s also a person, and He’s also inside our hearts.” Pretty pathetic and perhaps theologically weak, I know, but that was my answer. Then Ben asked, “Is Jesus inside daddy’s heart? Is He inside your heart?” And it was like a switch flicked on in my mind and I realized that we were actually having this conversation and I’d better pay closer attention. “Yes,” I replied. “Jesus is in daddy’s heart and in my heart too.” “Is Jesus in my heart?” Ben asked. “If you want Him to be,” I said. “Is He in everyone’s heart?” was Ben’s final query, but then he answered himself with, “I think Jesus is in everyone’s heart!” “Hmmm,” I said. “I don’t know if He is in everyone’s heart, but I think that He wants to be.” “Oh,” Ben said, and then, “But I’m a pretend truck, and I have monster wheels and I’m driving to school!” And just like that the conversation became something else.

When Ben and Jonah were dedicated at ECC, we made promises, as parents and as a community, to pay attention to and nurture these types of conversations with and questions from our children. In many ways, our attitudes towards children force us to ask the fundamental question, “What does it mean to be a church?” The fact is that you are my son’s church. Right now, you are representing and exemplifying to him the initial ideas and materials with which he will form his understanding of God, of Christianity, of love, community, the Bible, truth, etc. I hope this terrifies you, and if it does, that’s just a small glimpse of the weight of what it feels like to be a parent J

The authors of RRC state that “Each interaction with our children provides an…opportunity to help them weave a strong and resilient personal fabric.” To this, I would add for a final reflection today, the questions: are we in any way through our interactions and examples, hindering our children from coming to Jesus? How are we leading them and each other towards a deeper relationship with Him?

To end today, I want to read the lectionary Psalm 23. Growing up I had a book called A Child’s Look at the 23^rd Psalm, which Chris and I have been reading to Ben. All about how a good shepherd takes care of his sheep, and how God takes care of us.

Psalm 23
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

lunch on the back deck

2011-04-03T07:13:00.001-07:00

Benji and mommy eating lunch on the back deck, as rendered by Ben, age 4, on his new "magic drawer"...

the 4th

2011-03-31T13:13:00.000-07:00

Well, it's true---I get way more excited about Ben's birthday than my own. I'll try to refrain from being the mom who has to recount her son's birth story at his birthday party every year. Suffice to say, I remember the day he entered the world, and it's definitely cause for joyous celebration.

We're having a dinner with family this evening, with Grann & Grandpa Rae, aunty Kristy, Nana Wiebe, and our friend Dustin in attendance.

On the menu are homemade elk meatballs on fresh pasta from Deluca's (Ben had asked for noodles for his birthday dinner); salad with mandarin oranges and almonds; Nana's cheese-beer batter bread; and for dessert, my "secret" chocolate cake, from the Simply in Season cookbook. I made this cake for Benji's 1st birthday, and it was a hit.

I'm sure that Ben is more excited about the potential presents than he is the food. And that the cake has candles, though I could probably stick a candle into pretty much anything and he'd be thrilled.

A good day to celebrate!

waiting for an echo...

2011-03-28T15:35:00.000-07:00

The other morning, I was driving to Health Sciences for my long-awaited echocardiogram, and I suddenly found myself having a moment---a type of spiritual experience, as it were, though that sounds a bit hyperbolic. I was listening to CBC Radio morning, and heard, for the first time, the first track from Paul Simon's new album. The song is entitled, the Afterlife, and it captured the perfect expression of what I was feeling at the moment, particularly the lines, "You got to fill out a form first / And then you wait in the line." After 11 months of waiting for this test, I had arrived at a somewhat hard-won peace of mind and felt ready to be done with it.

Sure enough, today at my follow-up appointment at the cardiologists, things were as Stewart Wakeman had predicted about 4 months ago: there is nothing wrong with my heart. No structural abnormalities, no mitral valve prolapse. A very healthy looking heart, and excellent blood pressure to boot. "We can conclude that your heart palpitations are benign," the doctor said. "Damn annoying," my internal dialogue added, but benign is good.

The past few weeks have brought an unexpected clarity and peace---I'm not sure how or why, but it doesn't matter. I still have questions, and still weird fluctuations throughout my cycle that merit investigation; but less anxiety and a sense of 'normalcy,' which is as much as I can as for for now.

I'll mention this here, just in case other women may have similar issues: I've found http://www.womentowomen.com/ to be a helpful resource. It's fairly thorough on everything from hormonal imbalance to adrenal fatigue. Stuff we deal with. I wish I had known about it a while ago...

But back to Paul...and my good mood, as I groove along to his new tune...

"After you climb up the ladder of time
The Lord God is near
Face-to-face in the vastness of space
Your words disappear
And you feel like you’re swimming in an ocean of love
And the current is strong
But all that remains when you try to explain
Is a fragment of song"

spring, I mean, election-time is in the air....

2011-03-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

As unbelievable as it may seem, Canadians are heading back to the polls this spring.

Get ready to vote at http://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/canadavotes2011/votecompass/

National Lifejacket Day

2011-03-24T08:21:00.000-07:00

Subject: National Lifejacket Day contest is ON!! Thursday May 19

In 2010 Training Partners and Red Cross staff across the west embraced National Lifejacket Day creating a huge success. People in lifejackets were spotted across Western Canada at locations including, the memorial cup, schools, Maple Leaf Meats, EMS, Police and Fire stations, commuters biking and taking transit to work, RBC call centre, Dairy Queen, Starbucks, the local pool and more!

This year it is just as easy for you to take action to ensure someone you know doesn’t become a statistic! On Thursday May 19, National Lifejacket Day, we are asking Canadians to join us in wearing their lifejackets for the duration of the day to raise awareness and encourage lifejacket use. Wear it at work, to the store, even when you go for a walk! Get as many people, groups, and activities involved as possible!

Stickers and messaging sheets will be available from the Red Cross. Training Partners who participate in this initiative will be eligible for terrific prizes and plaques. Watch for detailed e-mails on this campaign over the coming months!

new album!

2011-03-23T08:01:00.000-07:00

http://www.paulsimon.com/music/so-beautiful-or-so-what

hot cross and tea...

2011-03-21T12:55:00.000-07:00

It's my favourite time of year...not so much spring, which is limping, lamely into Winnipeg, only to be squelched by a deluge of new snow....But with Easter comes the most perfect hot cross buns ever baked---soft, spicy, lightly fruited---from Tall Grass Bakery, of course; and I am so inspired, sitting down this afternoon to enjoy one, heartily buttered alongside my tea, that I thought I would share---one with Ben (who has been taking Tall Grass fare for granted since in utero), and with you, faithful blog readers. Sorry if you're not in Winnipeg to enjoy one. They are definitely worth the trip, and my parents and sister are anticipating consuming vast quantities upon their arrival at the end of this week when we welcome them for their annual spring trek up north, coinciding with Benji's 4th birthday...For my birthday, you can give me a hot cross bun with a candle in it. They're that good. It's a shame my birthday is in the summer..... enjoy!

the big melt begins...

2011-03-19T07:20:00.000-07:00

The latest Pioneer Press was released last week. The Pioneer Press is the 'official' newsletter from Manitoba Pioneer Camp, that goes out to over 900 alumni and friends of camp twice each year. It's not extensive, but I feel good about it, having pulled it together in a short amount of time....

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers, too. Things here are generally going well. Things are getting busy at work, but enrolment numbers are encouraging.

I've been able to put a few more pieces together re. my health stuff, that has also been encouraging---too much to summarize succinctly on a blog, I feel---mainly sorting through a lot of articles and web stuff to learn more nutritional nuances my doctors would never take the time to ask me about (ie. how much magnesium I need in my diet). Still have some not-so-good days, and often really tired, but that's how it goes. Here are some quotes I keep coming back to, various takes on healing, and reminders that I need be proactive but patient....

"Disease is imbalance---The wheel of life teaches us that we don't always require a name for a disease in order to rebalance it."

"Healing is the restoration of meaning to people's lives no matter what their physical condition might be."

This latter observation is somewhat in line with the Lenten reflections I've been receiving from Lindsey Yeskiw on her CaringBridge blog (see in particular the entries from Tuesday, March 15th and Thursday, March 17th). "What is wellness? What is health?" Lindsey asks on behalf of herself and her daughter Emily, in the midst of extraordinary circumstances. I am amazed at Lindsey's ability to blog so frequently, and carve time to record even the few glimpses of the depths of thought and emotion she is plumbing. When I'm struggling or tired, the last thing I can or want to do is blog about it. Though it is also obvious in Lindsey's situation that her on-line journal is such a unique "channel" of grace, with literally thousands of people checking in from around the globe, in order to surround and lift the Yeskiw family in prayer.....And which is why I appreciate yours.

We are still in the throes of winter here. Winnipeg has had a few warmish days, when the snow starts to melt (revealing all the garbage and dog poop underneath) and everything turns into one big street lake. Then it gets cold again, and everything refreezes and the sidewalks are absolutely treacherous. I can't wait to see green grass again....

thinking of summer...

2011-03-15T09:28:00.000-07:00

2011-03-08T12:39:00.000-08:00

just a short post to say that we'd appreciate your thoughts and prayers for the next few weeks.

Chris is off work sick today. Just a fluey-cold, but dragging him down.

I received good news last week: the echocardiogram test I've been waiting for since April 2010 has finally been scheduled for March 23rd. Not quite a year's wait! But timely, I think, as I have not been feeling well at all lately, in regards to heart palpitations, etc. I am hoping that the end of this month will bring some clarity and peace of mind regarding health stuff.

The end of the month will also see the arrival of my parents and sister from Georgia, up for a visit and to participate in the festivities for Benji's 4th birthday! Their visit will be a highlight at the end of a very busy month.

Camp registrations are picking up, and many plans still need to be made regarding summer hiring and planning. It's only going to get busier. Thanks for your thoughts!

good Monday morning....

2011-02-28T05:57:00.001-08:00

this little light of mine

2011-02-25T10:27:00.000-08:00

-40C with the wind-chill this morning, but the reality is the wind isn't actually that strong....seriously cold in Winnipeg today. Stepping out the door feels like walking onto the surface of the moon---cold air sucks the breath right out of your lungs, and footsteps sound squeaky on the chalk-like snow....

Just checking in at the end of February. Sometimes this short month barely makes a blip on the time-line of a Winnipeg deep-freeze, our hearts trying to shield the smoldering hope of spring's warmer weather from being altogether snuffed out. Which sort of reminds me of a recent story from the annuls of "a day in the life of Benjamin Milne..."

We've implemented a fairly regular bedtime routine in the Milne household. This came after a rather loose schedule during our travels back to Ontario and over the holidays, with a couple of glorious melt-downs at points long past my own bedtime hour. As laid-back as we try to be as parents, it is true, for Ben anyways, that having a general structure to things seems to help him wind down and encourage cooperation. The bedtime routine is nothing strict, but mainly a predictable sequence of events commencing just after 7pm, involving tidying up the bedroom, changing into jammies, snack-time (cottage cheese with maple syrup is a favourite), teeth brushing, story time on the couch, then the tuck-in, with dad telling one more story (something about the fictional adventures of Earl-the-Incredible-Squirrel, who has a penchant for canoeing and rescuing other baby animals), and then finally mom coming in for a final tuck-in inspection and to sing a few songs. It's quite the procedure and production, following a pretty set pattern designed, as you can tell, for an only child.

Chris and I usually tag-team the bedtime routine, passing the baton from one task to the next, or occasionally being very gracious and giving the other person the night off. But every so often, at the end of a long day, when I am tired and perhaps a bit grumpy, the truth is I just want Ben to get to bed so I can grab a moment of quiet for myself before my own bedtime.

It was on such a night---after the whole rigmarole,that Chris finished his story and I heard my cue "Mommy, come sing songs now!" I didn't feel like singing anything, let alone enthusiastic renditions of "Deep and Wide," or "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." My song repertoire is quite eclectic---songs my mother used to sing to me, combined with a healthy dose of Raffi tunes, and selections from our own customized MPC songbook. So, I half-heartedly sang rather short versions of a couple songs, before I ended things with a hug and a kiss and our last song.

Every night, the one song Ben insists on singing last is "This Little Light of Mine," where we sing: "Hide it under a basket? No! I'm going to let it shine. Don't let anyone *blow* it out [we blow our fingers to imitate blowing out a candle]. I'm going to let it shine!" And then I ask, "Where do you want to shine the light?" Usually Ben will say, "Shine it in my room" or "Shine it in the neighbourhood or Winnipeg or Canada" and we'll circle our finger lights around symbolically encompassing wherever we want to shine them. So this night I asked, "Where do you want to shine it?" and Ben paused for a moment, before looking at me with his big, honest eyes, and said,"Let's shine it in mommy's heart!"

right. okay. let's shine it in mommy's tired and cranky heart.

goodnight, and sleep tight.

chastened by my 3 year old.

our ritual

2011-02-19T15:35:00.000-08:00

Well, it's one thing to wax eloquant about the ritual of tea, but the Milne family has their own, renown and celebrated Saturday night ritual: Hockey/Pizza Night in Canada!
Always a homemade crust, and massively delicious.
Here's Ben helping with production....

Before...

After....

It's just too bad the Toronto Maple Leafs never win!