Merry Christmas!

I'm not sure what the deal is, but a cold has settled into the right half of my face. Now, on the positive side of things, the left half of my face is holding up nicely. That would be the positive side. Literally. ha.
It's exam time, and my first one isn't until Thursday. Some of you may think- wow, what a sweet schedule. Well. You would be wrong. Now I have four days of a certain feeling that tells me I don't have to study yet, even though all my friends are. And do you know where that feeling leaves you? Homeless. Because you flunked out of university.
So yes, it's Monday and I studied today.
I feel like a direct parallel can be drawn between my dry throat and this dry humor. It's time for a throat numbing candy.
That's all for now- I'll post again when I can breathe through my nostrils with limited effort.

This past weekend was one of those random weekends that sticks in the memory. It was great. On Friday, Trine and I wanted to hop on a bus and head downtown, explore the sights, and just get lost. My backup plan was a backpack with sandwiches and a blanket, in case we had to spend the night on the street. This all sounded great at the time, but as it got darker, and colder... we didn't mind so much that Tim and Jason wanted to tag along. In fact, with James knowing the entire bus route, and with two very sensible boys around, there was no chance of getting lost--

I left the sandwiches at home.

Saturday night we had a birthday bash for Danielle, which involved some seriously competitive charades. It got pretty intense, the teams being guys vs girls... but we definitely won.... 3 out of 10.
James introduced the game Mafia, which kept us going until about 2:30 A.M. Twas a grand party. On Sunday we invited Pastor John to the guys house for some tasty spaghetti. He liked that. So did we.

Monday we threw another party for Danielle ( she's our favorite) Jordan helped Trine and I get ready.

She's getting married, so we thought we'd celebrate. I must say, I'm really starting to love my house. It took a few months to adjust, but the girls are wonderful andI really like it here. It makes me kind of sad that I'm leaving in a few months. BUT moving on...

Tuesday was my weekly sleepover with my good friend Kris. We went with Ryan, Jordan, and Danielle out to Crabby's for 29cent wings. It was our last sleepover of the semester- possibly year- I'll miss you Kristina.

On a good note- James and I had a date tonight, which is always a good time :)

This picture isn't from our date. I just like it.

My Lord

There is something incredibly comforting about devotional poetry. For something thousands of years old, I'm amazed that it's still fresh. That is, it's still relevant. The contempt, passion, anger, fear, hurt, joy etc. directed towards God in the 17th century is still expressed. By me. Today. First of all, this demands some respect. God has been putting up with the same old 'stuff' since Eve ate the fruit. There is nothing new under the sun when it comes to human depravity. But He listens.

Second, it's incredibly comforting to know that people in the past share my experience when it comes to God. To feel His outpouring love, followed by 'nothingness'- making you question if you ever really felt that close to Him in the first place. But He's there, a constant pillar. Sometimes I wonder if the pillar analogy works for me. Right now it makes me think of a God of stone: cold, distant, deaf and mute.
Is He? Maybe. There's got to be a reason why we all go through this. It's bloody frustrating. George Herbert, pastor of a country church in 1630, knows exactly what I'm talking about,

When my devotions could not pierce Thy silent ears
Then was my heart broken, as was my verse
My breast was full of fears and disorder;

Oh that thou shouldst give dust a tongue to cry to Thee
And then not hear it crying! All day long
My heart was in my knee, but no hearing.

As pitiful a sight it is to see someone broken, crying and on the verge of giving up- when I read this stuff it's comforting. I don't doubt God. I doubt myself. I covet His stability, or at least ask that He give me some of it. And this is where the leap is made between normal poetry to that of devotional poetry.
What's written down is not intended for an audience, it's intended for God. The direct pleadings, rantings, and praises we express are extensions of what resides in our very soul. What an incredible outlet, a remarkable method, a beautiful gift.
And there it is: I resort to language, this gift of God's, to express God's distance. Thank you God, for the gentle reminder.

Last night was weird. I couldn't sleep because every time I closed my eyes, crazy images flashed in my mind, like monsters chewing off my limbs. I think Ryan put something in my coffee. Man, he's sneaky.

But anyways, it's like a nightmare when you are still awake. The worst kind- because you can't snap out of it. And so I spent a good chunk of time staring at the ceiling, which made me sleepy, which made my eyes close, which created a monster, which made me not so sleepy.. until I finally got up at around 12am, and folded my laundry.
Eventually I got back into bed, the cycle continued, until Danielle and Trine, either feeling sorry for me, or sick of hearing the creak of the bunk bed every time I tossed around, sang me the Care Bear Count Down
Priceless.

Of course this created Beastly and Nohart... and so the fun had to stop.

So weird. But really, what we got out of this was a great discussion on what Danielle should do with her future. It involved a bakery with apple turnovers, frosted cupcakes, christmas cookies-- and then a very detailed menu of what to bake at every season. The conclusion was to simply use a pile of pink frosting. That made me happy, then hungry, then happy---
I fell asleep around 2.

Dodgeball Warriors

The past week has been wonderful. I nailed my philosophy presentation and got excited about the prospect of someday teaching highschool kids about life. I have a pile of papers to get working on, which always kind of gets to me because it comes with this sneaky little genius- procrastination- which makes me avoid the library, tidy my room, go out for dessert, and dress like a hippy for some seriously competitive dodgeball. All in all, he makes the memories happen, so I think I'll keep him around for a while.

I don't want to make this long, because it's getting close to 2a.m. and I am asking myself what the heck I'm still doing up... but for the record I thought I should also put it on here that I finally made the decision. It was a sucky week of indecision and endless conversations with different people I love and trust, but I'm finally at peace with it. Enough of the intro-- I'm going to England baby. Four months in the UK to study my major and live as a local in the quaint little village of Charlsebury. Timot and I are hoping to fly together- and I'm really glad he'll be around. Four months seems like an awefully long time...so I'm going to sign off before I let myself dwell on that for too long.

Tata.

Time at home has been delightful. I worked a full day on Thursday with my good buddy Kristina, thoroughly pulled my hamstrings, blistered my fingers, and laughed a lot. She is a very funny girl. After work Cheryl, Vanessa, Sarah, Kristina and I went to visit my friend Jocelyn who got a new apartment, which is pretty classy. The six of us have been friends since gradeschool, and I'm amazed at how similar we still are to the children we once were. Not to say a pile of things haven't changed, but if I were given a sketchpad in grade one, and was told to map out my idea of Jocelyn's future apartment, I really don't think I would have been that far off. She has a nice place. She cooked us up a tasty stir fry, we talked about Vanessa's upcoming wedding over a glass of wine, and I realized that we are definitely well into another chapter of our young adult lives. Does this excite me? Heck ya. But whenever you get together with old friends, the past is what gets relived- and I don't mean to brag, but I had a fantastic childhood with these girls. Now to pull out the typical sigh and statement- 'where does time go?' Who cares, it just goes.

Then I came home, did a lot of nothing, and then heard my mom give a bit of a scream. I didnt' realize she was the only one watching "disturbia" and she's not very good with thrillers. So I watched it with her, as a very poor source of comfort because I get more freaked out then she does! But really, a boy walking alone through a murderer's house, then falling through the basement floor into a pile of dead bodies?! SCARY!

I woke up the next morning after having a nightmare about a math exam. One of the questions was " if all the sums were to fall off the earth, what would the sum of all the numbers be?"

Ok- here's why I hate math

1) My mind thinks that that makes sense

2) The question says sum twice

3) It haunts me in my sleep

What's even more ridiculous is that everyone knew the answer, which was 'zero to the tenth' actually spelled out like that! And the class instructor was my philosophy teacher. Oy. Disgusting.

So, I woke up with pulled muscles from the day before, and a pulled brain, and decided to skip work on the farm and be very productive in my school work. I think I was, although I made time to go to Hamilton, pick up Katrina, hang out there, and then drive back home in traffic. Those were some quality hours. We came home just on time for some Chinese food, and sat at the table for over an hour. Man, if any of you know my dad, he can be pretty fun to have a discussion with. Now don't take fun to mean lighthearted and cheery-- oh no. This is an intense, be on your toes, don't let him corner you kind of intense. I love it.

The best thing about my dad is that I can let my mouth fly (respectfully) and he never gets personal. He doesn't ever attack the person- it's always the argument. This is something that I've noticed simply CANNOT happen in a girls house. And so you see, these weekends at home become weekends of respite and mental sharpening against my dad's ruthless wit. It's enjoyable.

After dinner and fortune cookies, we thought we'd rent a movie off the TV to watch with the fam. The first attempt had about six scenes within six minutes that are just awkward to watch with your parents, and then just awkward in general. SO we turned it off, and got another one. To sum it up in a word. Aweful. I'm not sure if you've heard of Georgia Rule. If you haven't, excellent. If you have. Shoooot. If you have SEEN it- well, hopefully it wasn't with your parents and little brother.

Trine, my mom and I were the only ones who endured it to the end, then went to bed. Of course there was pillow talk, but now this is just getting too personal.

This morning it's chilly, and windy, and I like it. Mom is making breakfast. Ooh da lolly

Friends

Today I started a grease fire.
I put it out with salt.

I love the weather. I don't want snow and I don't want humidity. I want exactly what I have right now, and that is deliciously chilly weather. I am happy to be wearing socks again, I am happy to put on a baggy hoody, I am happy to make two cups of tea, wrap myself in blankets, wear a scarf and read outside on the front lawn for three hours straight. That's what this weather does to me. It just makes me happy.

The colours also do it for me. Not bright, not ugly and dull- but 'earthy'. Relaxed and aging- like it should be. The sky is not just open blue, but it's not dreary grey either. It's patchy. Blue sky behind bundles of white and grey clouds, and yet the sun is still there, keeping up appearances. Absolutely lovely. October 13, 2007. What a day.

It's Saturday, about 5pm, and I should be working on my Commentary Review. Instead I'm sitting in the kitchen staring out the window. It's a very big window, and so it's not really my fault that I'm always caught staring out of it. Once I get past the deck, white railing, struggling geranium basket,and freshly cut lawn, my eyes hit no man's land. An open field, recently plowed under, pretty sad looking, but it always draws my attention anyway. It's probobly because it just sits there, idly, like myself, but has this incredible backdrop of a dark cloudy sky. What is this obsession I have with the sky? I really don't know. I just like it.

Language blows my mind. The very fact that you can understand that first sentence shows how incredible language is. We create it, use it, manipulate it, and depend on it. What's more, we trust it. We speak literally, metaphorically, analogously, poetically- it's all encompassing, it's how we express ourselves. How could we function in society without it?

But where does it come from? I know God initially gave Adam the ability to speak, and name creatures, but no doubt our vocabulary has grown since the garden. As we develop new ideas, experiment, discover new creatures- do we just slap letters together and trust that the meaning of those letters will in time make itself clear to everyone? And what about abstracts? The concept of justice, truth, and love have been generally understood- at least in my own limited experience in my own specific culture. But how does it work cross culturally? I just don't know. I can't get in the mind of another person, and so I just don't know if my notion of justice can equate with that of oh, let's say a Russian. Words. Language. We put a faith in it, because we trust the meaning in the letters. But what happens when we start to doubt language?

It's a scary thought- to strip away this foundation of language- the way we articulate and express ourselves. It just seems like the next logical progression of living in a postmodern relativistic society. We tolerate everything, and believe nothing. That is, capital T truth has gone out the window, and been replaced by some lukewarm pablem that just doesn't suffice. And yet, words still hold their meaning. But how long until that too is thrown out the window? The same mentality that says " you can believe that, but don't force it on me" can be used to say, " your words might mean that, but they mean something different for me". When that starts to happen ( and I'm going to take back what I said before, and say it IS already happening) we are headed into some pretty dangerous territory.

But I'm going to veer away from this philosophical direction, and head back to wear I wanted this post to originally go- and the only connection I can make here is that I have been reading a heck of a lot for the past two days, which has made me think a fair bit about language. But it has also made me think about what it means to be a student. So moving on..

I am a student, which means I have to study. But for what purpose? Bacon nails it.
"Studies serve for pastimes, for ornaments, and for abilities" that is, for private pleasure, to be equipped to engage in discussions, and to sharpen your judgment.
This bit was great- " To spend too much time in them is sloth"
It's interesting, because we need balance when it comes to our studies, yet it is our studies that balance us. Bacon puts a lot of emphasis on the reading, writing, and discourse as the main components of "study". Language is fundamental in all three( Interesting how that never seems to change, even though language does) But he says,
"Reading makes a full man, conversation a ready man, and writing an exact man." So, if you don't write a lot, you better have a good memory, and if you don't talk a lot, you better have quick wit, and if you don't read, you had better be cunning, so as to seem to know what you really don't.

For Bacon, some reading requires just a tasting, others a bit of chewing, still others must be swallowed and digested- that is, read wholly. Reading works on varying levels, but it still remains central to study.

After all the reading I've been doing- I must admit, I am comforted. Thank you Sir Francis Bacon.

Just a little bit of fun I've been having in my Creative Writing course- thought I'd share this story with you. A little mystical and exaggerated, but writing it was a good time.


The Shallow End

The sparkling water of the Rhuidean swirled with glee as each droplet raced to the tune of the never- tiring current. The mist of the morning clung to each bright leaf that sprang from the shrubs lining the river bank, where dew gathered, slipped, and slid as one to the joyful clamor of the stream below. The very air itself held the music of the water, and the birds, gently woken by the enchanting melody, eagerly chirped along. The tune emanating from the Rhuidean forced the world to wake. Willing or not, the creatures were compelled to respond, unable to ignore the charms of the enchanted stream. Even the stones edged closer, to catch a glimpse of distant relatives sunk low beneath the surface, though careful not to get too close. For every stick and stone, fish and bird, even the wisps of wind knew of the spell cast by the Rhuidean-and the treachery therein.

A young man emerged, and the sweet song being spun by the river changed tune. The beat quickened, matching the hurried pace of his pulsing heart. His handsome face altered into that of smug pride; he had found the river. The legendary Rhuidean. He had declared to his future bride that he would not wed her until she possessed the greatest gift. Thus he had traveled for days in search of the mystic river, and had it not been for the clamor of the birds and his curiosity, he may have missed the small oasis entirely. The chant of the river could not reach his human ears, but the beauty of the songbirds provided a pale reflection of the watery composition.

His task was to take from the river enough water to fill a bowl, and present it to his love. In washing her face with the magical water, her skin would become white as snow, her eyes would sparkle like emeralds, her lips as red as rubies. She would be beautiful, and her beauty would last forever. What better gift to present to a young maiden, his young maiden than the gift of never ending beauty? Suddenly, an unnerving thought crossed his mind as he envisioned his goddess passing through time unmarked by age. He would not be exempt from such ugliness. She would blossom eternally and he would inevitably wither and die! With a cry the young man leaped to the river’s edge, and plunged his head into the water.

The chords of a thousand different voices filled and flooded his ears as the cunning water held him captive. He squeezed his eyes shut and in terror tried to tune out the chant that had united in song against him. The chaotic noise grew louder, more urgent though every creature was silent. The rhythmic beat pounded out three syllables in urgent succession. Still the young man could not withdraw his head from the Rhuidean’s watery grip. Straining to be free, he was struck by the three syllable word caught in the current. Van-i-ty, van-i-ty, van-i-ty. With sudden clarity, the words came softly-

Forever young thou wish to be-
(solely fish can hear our melody),
Where you now tread is shallow ground,
and cursed be you, for you have found,
a lovely maiden’s gentle wit
does not suffice your appetite.

Vanity of vanity
Your lot is cast into the sea

In this shallow pool you shall remain
Until the new moon shines again,
But be forewarned; your foolish thought
Has left you nothing, nor has brought
You any nearer your true desire.
But with these words you can retire;
Beneath the surface, beauty lies
Mere looks are feigning alibis.

Convinced he must soon be on the verge of death, held by force, the man struggled in vain to rise up. Instinctively he gasped for one final breath, expecting the vile water to fill and poison his lungs. But something was wrong. He was breathing- under water. Was he dead? In a panic he lurched forward, sliding with ease through the slippery water.
A fin propelled him and gills sustained him. As the horrible realization began to sink in, the words of the river softly came back to him… ‘solely fish can hear our melody…’
Again the river resumed its tune. The creatures stirred from their silence, and echoed their response. The law of the Rhuidean was mysterious- both a blessing and a curse- but let it never be said the river was unjust. For those who come seeking will find what they deserve.

There are a lot of things I could say about this past week. There are a lot of things I won't. It's hard to sum up a week of change. I can't figure out if it was less work, or more work. Nine hours of mindless physical labour, or odd hours of mental strain and silly mind games. I was hoping for a smooth, relatively painless transition from summer to school, work to books, family to friends. I am not sure what happened, but it wasn't smooth. It's like I got on the ugly, delapitated wooden rollercoaster in the far corner of the theme park that nobody wants to go on because it sucks. Your body gets battered with each turn, your neck kinks, teeth clack, stomach churns- when all I really wanted was to get on the fricken Superman. Now that's a good time. That's a smooth and thrilling ride. But, such is life. Anticipation doesn't always deliver. The week was tough, but speckled with joy nonetheless. My friends are quality. Our house is joyful, full of natural sunlight, and delightful girls. The other night Trine and I slept on the lawn just for the heck of it. Even though she wimped out and went in at 4, and I woke up at 7 unable to move my neck, these are the kinds of things you just don't do on your own. Lizzy and I spent Saturday night letting loose at the decade dance, which was followed by a few hours at Tim Hortan's discussing some of the finer points of life. Saturday I played in two soccer games. A great way to build friendships with team players, flat out run yourself into the ground, and also pull a lot of tender leg muscles. The weekend was a great wake up call to the fact that as much as I like the team, it's the sport that counts, and I don't like it. Haha..and so I must quit, yay for free nights!
Now it's the beginning of a new week, and I'm feeling that things are looking up in the world.
Readjusting isn't really all that bad.

Trolls and Tables

If there is one thing I can't stand, it's regret. It's hideous. Picture a troll, with pink hair and a gargoyle face, camping under a bridge and eating innocent goats. That is regret. The best way to avoid the troll is to avoid the bridge that harbors the troll, but if you are oblivious to the danger under the bridge, you will unknowingly attempt to cross it and get eaten- because as we all know, and in keeping with my little analogy, regret eats you up.

I had 4 precious months of TIME. Time to read, work, go out for coffee, camp out under the stars, study the catechism, stay active, visit my grandparents, visit my friends, and stay on top of my academic game. My time is almost up, and I wish I had done a lot more of everything. I definitely didn't read enough.

I realize that's a pretty pathetic list for such an extreme analogy, rather mild regrets, but they are regrets nonetheless. The thing about these regrets is that you can't do a thing to change the fact that you were just too lazy to 'get 'er done'. Time doesn't go backwards. How I've used my time was my call, a conscious decision, and now I have to live with it. Now I have to share my space with an ugly mutant with pink hair until I can figure out a way to get past him.... oh man.

On a different note, the minister this afternoon stated that allowing your child to partake of Lord's Supper would be like feeding your infant poison. He was quoting John Calvin. I know the URC is pro guarding the Lord's table, but let's think about this. Both sacraments are intended to be used by God's covenant children in an effort to draw together the body of believers in the name of Christ. Baptism is a sign of the washing away of our sins, and God's faithfulness to his children. The Lord's Supper is meant to be a reminder and celebration of Christ's death and resurrection- enabling us to have eternal life. I would like to know how the church is able to discern who can and cannot partake. Considering that the Lord's Supper has replaced the Old Testament celebration of the Passover, I am inclined to believe that similarly, it should be the job of the parents to educate and prepare their child for the table as was the custom in those days. My concern with the URC in this respect is that there is a danger of testing the genuity of one's faith by some sort of knowledge gage. We learn at home and church, take catechism classes, profess our faith, and thereby gain access to the Table. If this is the case, what did Christ mean when He said, " Let the little children come to me" and when the disciples tried to prevent it, He reprimanded them saying, " and do not hinder them!". Children are not stupid. They understand. They too are a part of the covenant kingdom! Oy.... sometimes I think we lose focus. To carry such reasoning to its full extent would most likely exclude a lot of people from communion. It just doesn't make sense. Maybe I'm a heretic. Maybe I should just go and fight that stupid troll.

Brothers

Mike, Matt, myself. The permanent seating arrangement at the back of the van because Megan gets car sick, Dave likes to sit by Megan, and of course mom gets shot gun. I don't know what it is about my two little gremlin brothers, but man, they make me laugh. They think they've mastered the Texan drawal, and so everything that comes out of their mouth sounds ridiculous. Example ( quoting something they heard on the radio)
"Tell your Unkie what you learned at that there fancy university"
"Pie a' square'
"Noo you duumb shit. Everyone knows that pie a' round. Cornbread a' square"
Then they will laugh hysterically- and say it all again- and by the 10th time, it does get pretty funny. ( I suppose it's something you have to hear for yourself, accent and all)

Last night we slept at Dave's house. There is one bed- and my parents got it.
Megan and I slept on the carpet upstairs, the boys shared one blanket downstairs, and then Mike took off and slept in the van. He is probobly roasting. I had the kind of sheet that is fitted to go around every corner of a mattress. My shoulders and feet did the job, creating a nice cacoon that was comfortable for 2 hour intervals. It was good night.

Well, I have to go pack. In a couple hours I'll be flying out of here.

We woke up at 5:30 am, we hit the road by 6, and we were stuck at the border until 11:30. Ew. I blame this completely on my brother. We are moving him to Texas, and at the same time making a nice family vacation out of the trip. Knowing it would probobly take us 25-30 hours to get there, the fact that we were still in CANADA 5 1/2 hours into the trip was not exactly comforting. Dave forgot to pay a certain bill, which had to be paid before he could get into the States, and so we all became miserable.


"There once was a man with the most remarkable ability to paint. He could capture beauty in a brushstroke, with a keen awareness of the detailed imagery all around him. Then he went blind. His family was poor, and once he got old, they put him in a home. The place was ratty, unkempt, and contemptible to any functioning artisan in terms of aesthetic beauty. Upon arriving, his family tried to apologize for his sub-par surroundings. The old man faced the nurses with a smile and said, ' It's beautiful.' When asked how he could say that without seeing a thing, he said, ' I've already arranged the whole thing in my mind. It's perfect.' "



Undoubtedly my dad told us this in the hope that we would draw a connection between our situation and the blind guy. Life is a mind game? hmm... I think the point was that if you can't change something, pre-arrange it in your mind to just relax and enjoy yourself. Life is too short to let the little things bother you. Point taken. My brothers can be fairly entertaining, and so I must admit- the time at the border wasn't all that bad.

After about 2 days, we made it to Texas. The week here is flying by, and so far it has been fantastic. The weather is hot, but bearable, and we still manage to play some pretty competitive volleyball, tennis, mini-put, and the classic "beat eachother up in the pool" game, which never seems to get old. We keep ourselves entertained- it really doesn't take much.
I'm coming home on Saturday, but the family will be here/ Tenessee for another week. It's always nice to get out and travel some more, but there is always something nice about coming home, even if it will be a bit lonely...

I'll miss you Dave- but Christmas isn't that far away!

Bits and Pieces

Thanks Robyn- Here's a little something about myself

I like walking in barefeet at 7:15 am after it rains and the fields are really muddy

I like singing Celine Dion at the top of my lungs in the shower

I have learned to love bugs, and I'm not sure why, but when they land on me I really like it. I saved a worm today, and I poked open a spider sac and about 100 baby spiders popped out. So cool.

I like singing songs in Spanish Church

I have a huge and sometimes overwhelming desire to cut loose and become a gypsy- but only for a month or something... because I like it here too.

When I was in grade one a boy smushed me into the gym wall and shattered my collar bone.

I spent almost every Monday night for the first two years of highschool in detention. You may think this reflects poorly on me, assuming I was some sort of bad ass. Not true. A shirt infraction, or misplaced pencil could wind you up in the office. Needless to say, highschool- with all the sports, drama, classes and detentions, was a pretty rocking good time.

That's seven.

Angry sky

My friend Tamara is crazy. Not literally, but she likes to do a lot of crazy things, which is why we really get along. Today Jocelyn and I went to visit her. You'd think a married woman would be a little more toned down, but this is where Tamara is strikingly different. After a boat ride with her parents on the Grand River, where we purposely rushed into a storm, and then fled with the birds at the first sight of lightning, Tamara took us to go pier jumping. Now, it was kindof cold, rainy, windy, and I hear lake Erie has some pretty bad under tow. I had no desire to jump off a 35 foot pier into crashing waves. Usually when I have no desire to do something, I don't, but for some reason Tamara can hype up anyone to do anything- and so when she went sprinting off the pier, I was only about 2 seconds behind her. Wow, what a rush. After a few jumps, we went to the top of the pier where you can't swim because of all the rocks. Unbelievable. Set against the dark sky, billowing clouds, streaks of rain, and peeping bits of sunlight, the sheer power of the waves crashing below us was really something to see.. up close. My friend wisely stayed up top, while Tamara and I scooted down to get some waves. We weren't being stupid, just a little daring. Bracing ourselves against the rocks, we let the waves crash over us, into us, around us... which was followed by a lot of laughing, and a bit of a rush. After a while, Joc called for us to come back up, so we said one more wave- and of course, it happens to be the biggest one we've seen yet. I brace myself and just get smacked in the face by a lot of water, but when I looked beside me, Tamara was gone. For a split second I was terrified. I know it would have been impossible for her to have gotten completely swept off the rocks, but for some reason I thought she was gone, and it scared me. The wave had knocked her off her feet, and she landed on her back a few feet away. Well, that was the end of that adventure. After seeing she was allright, we climbed back up and laughed our heads off. I'm glad we are still in one piece... maybe there is a reason why I only see her a few times in the summer :) Anyways, tonight was a good night. Tomorrow my friend Kerri is coming for the weekend, so I'm pretty pumped about that. It'll be good to see my travelling buddy again after so many months!

Finally

You'd think that a month between posts would give me plenty to write about. Well, it does. The problem is that with a dysfunctional computer at home, events and ideas that crossed my mind were forced to remain in storage until computer access became available. So for the past month I've been harboring refugee thoughts, and true to their status, now they just don't want to leave. Bear with me while I attempt to chip away at the 'layers' that have entered, ingrained and solidified in my mind.

Musings from Genesis.
I don't understand why God would wrestle with Jacob, why Jacob was blessed through his wicked scheming, or why God constantly uplifts the underdog to proceed with his Master plan. Was polygamy a sin? Why is it considered righteous of Tamar to sleep with her father in law? Is the murder of the entire male Shechemite tribe justified because one woman was raped? Was Joseph a pompous ass? Is favoritism looked on with favour by God? Genesis amazes me. Definitely worth a look.

Day to day life.
Work this summer has been both delightful and dreary. As much as I love the perennial market, and learning what I can about plants, business, and competitive strategies, I feel like I have cut myself short. Working for my dad is a safe bet. It pays well, it's simple, it's comfortable ( as long as it stays under 35 degrees). But why do I always choose what's comfortable? My brother got a job working with handicapped adults in Ottawa. He's being stretched in a lot of different ways, and I am a bit envious. The thought of working with people gets me excited. Kids, adolescents, adults, whatever- especially from different cultures. That would be a treat. Well, we'll see what pans out for me in the future. For now I'll try to master the art of patience, biding my time in the packing barn where the plants come and go as often as Bert and Sully, who by the way, have begun to construct their second nest while trying to teach their babies how to fly. Talk about your multi-tasking )


Perhaps I am feeling a little bit blah at work because I just got home from BC, and true to James' description, it certainly is the "glory land."
British Columbia is breathtaking. Mountains, ocean, rain forests, rivers, beaches- the scenery alone was worth the trip. But I think aside from all the aesthetic beauty, meeting the Harskamps was a highlight. A very warm, welcoming family, to say the least. They made sure I got a full BC experience, and everyday was packed with things to do and see. We went hiking, kayaking, swimming, explored Vancouver, caught crabs and starfish on the beach, drove up to Whistler, had a campfire with James friends, played 'disc', basketball, volleyball, walked the pier, went to some sweet lookouts, explored the aquarium, watched a dolphin and beluga whale show, and danced the lights out at his cousins wedding. It was a whirlwind of a week, and absolutely amazing. Seeing James for ten days straight wasn't bad either :) The weather was fantastic too, hot and sunny all week long. This is just a brief skeleton sketch of the past week, but I can really only flesh it out if I want to write a mini- novel, which I do, but not in blog form. I'll just say it was the highlight of my summer, quite possibly year, so far.

On that note, I hope everyone is well, and I apologize for my terrible effort to keep you updated. Cheers!

Turtle Blood

I know I havn't bloged for a while, but I've been busy and my internet has been down at my house. Such is life. Right now I'm in BC at James' place, so it gives me the ability to write a new blog.

Pretty much all I wanted to say is that I'm doing well, but that I'm looking forward to seeing everyone again come September and possibly in the next couple of weeks. That is all.

Fact. James is back and I am glad.
Fiction. Read the "adventure's of Duddy Kravitz" for a good piece of literary fiction.
Fact. The month of May has seen an increase in shipping of 48% compared to last May.
Fiction. The notion that I will ever get off work before 7pm

Hey everyone. Work is busy, the sun is hot, the days fly by, and my summer so far has been swell. ( That word is underused, so I'm bringing it back.) The fact that James just arrived in Ontario this past Monday has allready improved my summer by a good, oh let's say 27 %. That number- be it high for some, or low for others, means absolutey nothing to me, I picked it at random. But what I'm trying to say is that there has been a marked improvement to an allready great summer which makes me excited for the next few months. Moving on.

Jersey, the golden retriever that tramples all the plants on the farm, attacked a gosling today and killed it. The mother is now in mourning. The little one is sorely missed.

The wildlife in the packing barn keeps me amused when I'm fairly bored. Each corner has a nest of different baby birds. They will be jumping out any day-- which makes me wonder, are they insane? They certainly can't fly, so what would possess them to step off a 16 foot ledge? It's a possible death sentence! ahh well- thank goodness for fluffy down.

Considering I'm talking excessively about birds, and that I just said "fluffy down" I am thinking that I have nothing too new or exciting to contribute to this update. It is also late, and I am beat. The sun has been relentlessly frying my skin. I feel like a sauteed mushroom. Eww.

Now it's really time to get to bed. Adios todos! Me gusta pato.

Life of Pi

Prologue
This was written in an effort to vent some pent up frustration caused from work. It was not intended to be a blog- but, when my mom found it, read it, and then read it to my dad, I figured what the heck. ( At least he got a kick out of it)

Inspired by Life of Pi

Today I was attacked by a Bengal tiger. Not a deadly blow, but the sheer volume of his throaty roar turned my bones to liquid. My defiance flared, my blood simmered, and I stood. The stare returned by the beast made me balk. He was mad. I was no match against a tiger. He broke his hypnotic eyes from mine, distracted for a moment by a flying fish that had clumsily found itself caught in the crossfire between two seething creatures. I took what precious moments had been granted to me and fled to my safety raft. 25 feet of rope allowed for a 25 foot distance between me and the cat, with a double twisted knot tethering the two worlds together. Feeling the bruise where he had struck, right around my heart, I briefly considered slashing the life line that kept us uncomfortably close. The message being sent across the gap was made clear by the fixed stare and low growl of the tiger. This. Is. My. Territory. You. Listen. To. Me.

Today I was Pi Patel. Today my boss turned into a Bengal Tiger. Today was a hard day for a boss’s daughter. Tethered to the loading dock, amidst the hustle and bustle of rolling carts, surrounded by a sea of green, and always under the watchful eye of management- AKA- Bengal Tiger, the time was bound to come when territorial claims must be made, rights must be given, a voice must be heard.
The attack came unprovoked. Carts were properly assembled, we were on schedule, garbage did not abound in the work space, it was smooth sailing to 7:00. But of course, when do the big cats begin to stir? At dawn and dusk. We were pushing dusk, and the boss emerged from his lair. For the untrained eye, a quick scan of the dock’s activity would cry out chaos. Tractors buzzing in, trailers flying out, carts- endless amounts seeking safe haven through the gaping jaws of the ever hungry transport trucks- and the people. People everywhere. But to the trained eye the sight brought a surge of pride and relief- the peak of the days work was about to be reached, the winding down process was around the corner, the last stretch was beckoning…
THIS IS ALL WRONG! but the.. LISTEN! I DON’T CARE WHAT THE PAPERWORK SAYS!! Oh. why do I use it.. SHHHH!!! …..the time had come. Between my overtired, stressed, and intensity driven father I had overstepped my territory due to sheer personality. I am a smart ass. When attacked, I do not immediately step down in a reconciliatory manner. ( If I may just add, not in any means of self- praise, but as pure fact- my father WAS wrong) Accused of screwing up an entire order- and knowing the accusations to be false and unfounded, I was in no uncertain terms Pissed Off. But what can one do in the face of Richard Parker? Scream back? Certain death. Turn my back? Sudden death. Ignore his ominous presence? Against my nature. The only viable option was to stay rooted in position, clamp my mouth shut, and deal as much damage with my glare that was within my capacity. To think an ice storm on the 15th of May. I was chilled to the bone by the returned gaze. Option two would have been a bit warmer. Within seconds the ice spell was broken by the slam of the door. Parker had returned to his lair.
Small victory for Pi Patel.

Day 2.
The ice storm was proceeded by a crisp wintry gale- hardly the ideal weather for spring shipping- due undoubtedly to the spat that occurred the previous night between boss and boss’s daughter. All further encounters decidedly dropped the temperature, so they were either avoided, or kept to a bare minimum. To sum up the day in a word- Silent.

Day 3.
Pi has been reservedly perched on his life raft for 48 hours. Ample time to brew things over, sufficient time for an angry cat to calm himself. I unconsciously decided to grab ahold of the metaphorical rope that kept us distant, and over the course of 9 hours, managed to pull myself within a distance that at least allowed for communication. The breeching point came unexpededly, and I owe it all to a pigeon. He came a few days ago, a stranger in a foreign barn, and he amused me. I named him Bert. He is a steady companion. My father thus entered the barn while I was cooing at my new friend. He thought I was nuts- and absurdly I mumbled ‘ his name is Bert…’ That was it. The ice was broken. I smiled. I don’t know what made me do it. I was bent on being pissed off for at least another full day, or until said apology was made…but who has that kind of will power? Who coos at a pigeon? Case closed- we are back to being Ted and Rebecca. Undoubtedly Richard Parker will rear his terrible head again, and Pi Patel will inevitably resurrect, but for today- I’m content to just be Ree.

Today
6: 36 am- woke up, woke up the boys, ate honey bunches with oats. mmmm.
6: 53 am- in the car, realize we have very little gas
6: 59 am- ran out of gas
7:01 am- ran in the rain to work
7: 09 am - got to work
7:15 am- the day begins
12:00- had "festivus" at grandmas- which has been renamed "grunch". Basically
the words grandma and lunch have been combined to create grunch- which is a delightful midweek treat thrown together by my grandma to revive our souls and fill our bellies with what she calls "a light snack" which in reality is a 3 course meal complete with cake and coffee. Glorious.
5:00 pm- much work still to be done.
7:00pm- much more work to be done
8:06 pm- the last of 800 Cedar trees are loaded onto trucks
8: 10 pm- time to head home
8: 25 pm- dinner has been lovingly prepared by my sick mother- steak, potatos, salad and fresh green beans- accompanied by a glass of white whine
8: 27 pm- I realize how incredible my mom really is.
8: 30 pm. The family sits. We eat. We talk. We bond. Michael Buble is playing in the background
9: 15 pm. We get off the table, I hit the shower.
9: 30 pm My mom has coffee and chocolates waiting in the living room.
9: 31 pm- We sit. We drink. We bond some more. I realize my mom missed us today.
10: ish.. I get on the internet, read some great blogs/ emails. I realize how much I miss my Redeemer friends- and I make/am making an attempt to keep you posted.
10:49 pm I end my blog, I say farewell. Tomorrow will be another day much like today, minus running out of gas, festivus, and working 'til 8.
10:53 pm- a more accurate time. I'm done here.

a new blog

This week was good. In fact, it was great. Although an 11 hour work day on a farm may seem mundane, I kind of like it. Waking up early ( I do that anyways)
surrounded by a core group of friends ( Vaness brought me a coffee this morning, bless her heart) singing, laughing, eavesdropping on my Mexican friends who don't realize how much I actually learned in Spanish class... ahhhh it is good to be back. I am so glad that going to work isn't a chore. I mean, how crappy would my life be if the only thing I had to look forward to was the pay cheque? A bunch of numbers on a piece of paper dictating my happiness...sounds stupid when I put it that way, but that piece of paper is what makes the world go round. On second thought.. I think that's God.

It's interesting. When I get paid, the first thing I feel is pride. Satisfaction with what I've accomplished, my achievements, and my work. An hour ago, I wouldn't have given that any thought. Who cares? I should be proud of myself. Rev. Al kind of laid it out there a little differently in this evenings prayer day service. He gave a bit of a recap over the decades of how society reacts during poverty and affluence- the general trend being that when times are bad, the church is full, and when times are good, the church is empty. Perhaps this blurs the meanings of "good" and "bad"- but you know what I mean. The point is, when we succeed 2 things happen. We praise ourselves, and we forget God.

What really gets me is that this cycle has been repeating itself for centuries. I really can't imagine being in God's situation. He gives to us, we take what He gives, often thanklessly, and then praise our own efforts. Sure, I guess I was the one who worked for the pay cheque..but then again, my ability to work is thanks to a functioning body, which I have no control over. That's God's department. I guess all I'm trying to say is that God deserves a lot more credit than I give Him, and the message tonight was a good wake up call.

Now that I got that out of my system, I just want to give a quick shout out to my Redeemer buds that as much as I love being back home, I miss you all and the crazy life on campus.

Life is good.

Priceless

These last few weeks have seriously flown by. Robyn, Tim, Ryan, and Nathan are leaving today. The rest are soon to follow-- and it makes me very sad. But there have been some incredible memories made here, small and big, that have just made life that much more enjoyable.

Booboo bubble icecream cones and a walk around the harbour with Ryan, Katrina and James

Spending the last few nights on the roof stargazing- warm blankets, hot tea, great company

Tim Hortan's with Tamille, and "getting lost" in Ancaster

Three on two basketball in the pouring rain: Trine, Robyn and I against Tim and James

Picking up James' brother at the airport- with guitars, dancing, and bed sheets :)

Dance Party at dorm 34- Ryan, I'm glad you put that on. You and Moulan Rouge are a beautiful thing. ;)

Seeing Robyn fly down the redeemer driveway on her rollerblades, hit the grass, and do a barrel roll. aahahahaha

Rollerblading with Trine and Robyn to the meadowlands to pick up campfire supplies- and seeing Katrina almost have a heart attack when Robyn flew down the hill- again- and into the intersection.

The campfire at Angies

Midnight jogs around the block

Watching the boys go nuts in the Rec Centre during game 7 of the Canucks vs Dallas

Spending Sunday at Brian's place-

Studying in the sunshine, and burning the crap out of our faces

Katrina and "white lightning"

Photo shoot with Robyn, Trine and Tim

Seeing James ride a bike

Ringing the doorbell at 34, running like h***, tripping over the propane tank and cutting my knee.. just so Robyn could throw a gigantic bouncy ball at James

Singing at Church in the box

Squash with James.. ahahaha

Gotcha- and the look on Dan's face when he shot me- priceless

DQ with D37

Sunday lunches with the "friendship club"

--- oh man---- and now, packing things up and saying goodbye. I'm going to miss all of you very much. You have all made this year fantastic!!

contagious

Michael Jordan, R.C. Sproul, Steve Erwin, Bethoven, Craig Bartholomew, Anne of Green Gables, Ben Folds--- what do these people have in common? Passion. A love for basketball, crocodiles, music, or just "plain" life- passion emanates from their whole being and I find it very contagious.

For example, I am not the science type. Not really at all. I think my highschool experience with the subject damaged me for life. But, I was captivated for almost 2 hours by a man who came to redeemer for the science fair to show a few cool things about science. I couldn't peel my eyes off this guy! Not that he was much to look at ( I'm not being rude, bear with me) being 5 ft nothing, bit of a funny accent, thick rimmed glasses, passed the age of retirement...BUT man, it took about 3 seconds for anyone to see that this guy absolutely loved science- and about 4 seconds for the excitement to pass from him to the crowd. How does that happen? The guy was in his element- it was obvious to everyone, and that love has GOT to be contagious.

Ben Folds. There is another prime example. My friends and I went to his concert last night, which was INcredible. He is a musical genius in love with his piano. You can just see it- from the second he started pounding on those keys, that he was loving it. I've never seen fingers move so fast in my life-they were a blur. But what made it so great was the fact that HE was loving every single second of his music. To move from good to great you need talent + passion. People sense if, feel it, love it, and catch it. Again, my eyes were glued to Ben and his piano... ahhh fantastic.

Science and Music- I'm not great with either of them but the best part of that is I don' t have to be. I was able to share in the passions of both the crazy scientist and Ben Folds just by watching them do their thing: How sweet is that? I love when I meet people that are driven by their passions in life. Their excitement is contagious.

Accidents Happen

Yesterday was my first time playing squash. James plays a lot with his brother, and I guess he thought it would be fun to show me how the game works. We were doing allright... for about 10 minutes, until I wound up and hit the thing right into his eyeball.

James hit the floor- his eye turned a few colours- mostly red with hints of bluish bruising, and we safely concluded we should leave the squash courts: possibly for good.

Fortunately ice works magic- and his eye looks fairly normal today, but I just want to say this: Racket sports are dangerous- squash especially. Be safe. Wear goggles.

Good Friday

Ah, dearest Jesus, how hast thou offended? Johann Cruger- 1640
Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus hath undone Thee.
Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied Thee;
I crucified Thee.

Therefore, dear Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving
Not my deserving.

Alas, and did my Saviour Bleed - Hugh Wilson-1766
Was it for crimes that I have done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity, grace unknown,
And Love beyond degree.

Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears;
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness
And melt mine eyes to tears

God is incredible- and I can't get over it. Time and time again, He shows his perfect timing and His perfect self. Yesterday was one crappy day. Sometimes it feels like God just takes off for a while~and as much as you try to mask how you are feeling around friends or whoever- there is this void; a sense that you are alone; the feeling that you are not right with the One Person who loves you the most. You can't shake the feeling, or the sadness that fills you as a result. It's terrible. But God sees you floundering.. and He hears your feeble voice.. and He gently pushes you to read His words, and listen. Today is Good Friday~ and it's been good timing..
To sit in church and be reminded of Christ crucified; what better way to put things in perspective? I see my constant failings, I feel the guilt and shame of my sins, I am exhausted by my attempts to deal with it on my own, and then I realize what Christ did. It doesn't get old-- He came here to be completely humiliated- beaten, ridiculed, spat on, whipped, stripped naked and nailed to a bloody cross, and for what? He was perfect. He is perfect. What crimes did He do??? It rips me up inside, trying to cope with the horror and the joy of Christ's death. But joy trumps the sadness, because Christ, out of sheer love for us would not let us die! In his death, I have life that I really don't deserve, and THAT is what "dissolves my heart in thankfulness and melts mine eyes to tears"
Halleluliah, what a Saviour!!!

Blaaaa

I don't know what's with me, but I feel extremely restless. I'm not sure what it is, because I am quite happy here at Redeemer, but sometimes I just feel very closed in. I can't quite explain it, but it makes me frustrated-- and I don't cope well with that emotion- it makes me restless. And that makes me frustrated-- oh boy. And those emotions form a nice blend of exhaustion, which is where I'm at right now.

You'd think the simple solution would be to just get some bloody sleep. Well, that was the game plan, but when your mind is restless, sleep isn't an option. For some reason, the brain kicks into overdrive to compensate for your body's inactivity or something-- making things worse. EW.
But sleep isn't the real solution anyways.

I think it's just a part of being me that gets me in these moods every once in a while. I over analyze, I brush things off- I miss travelling, I miss home-- I get torn between two things that are on opposite sides of the spectrum... I mess up. and the result is pure restlessness.. which is now finding an outlet in this blog. Unfortunately, I'm doing a lousy job. I know I'm being vague, but I really don't need to get specific. The bottom line is I JUST FEEL BLAA,

Thundercats

I woke up convinced the sky had ripped in half. The entire house shook with the crack of thunder that came and sat on our house. Yes, I know thunder can't sit... but it hovered, for several seconds. In any case, I jumped pretty high- let out a yelp ( my rib has not fully recovered) and then got very excited about the prospects of a thunderstorm. What is it about a black sky, rushing clouds, cool wind, and sporadic rainfall that gets me pumped?? Storms display awesome, power-- uncontrollabe power, and that excites me. The power, wrath, love, creativity of God is on display, and we get to experience it everytime He feels like putting on the show...
In any case, I really couldn't stay focused in biology. I get really restless around this time- papers lose their importance, quizzes become insignificant, assigned readings? what are those?
So I went for a walk in the rain with James, played a bit of frisbee with Katrina, tried my hand at tennis, and basically waited until the last possible minute to finish up my paper. In hind sight, that was stupid. But, my justification for that is this: I really won't care about that paper in a few years ( maybe days) from now, but the great times had in weather like this.. well that's going to stick with me for while. There are only a few more weeks of school left- might as well make the most of it.

Life is Good

Their are a few things about this place that make life pretty nice.
For example, my room. I find it very comfortable and red. I like the colour red.
Going out with the girls for a drink.
Listening to Tamille and James when they are in their zone. When those two get together, the music they create blows me away.
When we congregate in the kitchen ( a cubicle measuring 3 ft by 5ft) it is a place of intelligent conversation, which is most likely stimulated by the smell of Robyn's cooking.
Walking to class in undpredictable weather. I enjoy that.
Drinking black currant tea with my roommate .
Dorm 34.
Dorm 37.
Getting together every Wednesday and having devotions.
Late nights with Katrina and Robyn.. and laughing a lot.
Jordan Bergsma's humor/English accent.
Free time.
A walk around the block.
Chillin with the Roman ghetto girls.
A quality history lecture by Provost.
Deborah Bowen- who stimulates her students to think more than any Prof I've had ( bar Craig).
A good "body shake" with Tamille.
The smiling face of Mrs. Chiang.
Events like the banquet.
Procrastinating- aka- writing this blog when i should go read "Passage to India"

That last one made me feel guilty, which isn't so nice, but I'm going to follow up on that feeling and get motivated to do some school work...

Dance

Time is fricken flying. Time is fricken. Time is. Time. In a few weeks time I'll be 21. A few weeks ago, my friends were all in Florida. We anticipated the banquet for a long time, and now it's come and gone. Let's talk about that.
The banquet was excellent. As much as I dread the "dolling up" process- the evening itself was soooo great! The food was yummy, our table was hilarious, there was good music, and the dance was by far the highlight of the night. I think I forgot how much I love dancing. What a beautiful combination. After that- music alone seems naked. And since it's hard to dance without music.... the equation must look something like this : Music + Dance= heluva good time.
But again, there is a time and a place for everything, which brings us back to that wonderful word, TIME. So i suppose music on its own is good too, and I do dance to the music in my head quite often- which is technically dancing to no music.. so i'm going to say that they have a relationship similar to ( this is going to sound really nerdy, no offence to James, who does this often) fungi and algae. I mean, they can live on their own, and they do it quite well, but when you get these two together- wow. Harmony. Mutualism. Trine- I hope you nailed that one on the bio midterm this morning.
So, biology. That was my final midterm. Now all i have is 3 papers and exams to anticipate. That last sentence kind of reminds me of what Mrs. Chiang said the other day. We are always waiting for something else. Can we ever just enjoy the moment? The present? Doug- your blog says it best, (and i don't consider this blog theft, if I give you credit off the bat)
LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ARE PLANNING OTHER THINGS
Time fricken flies. Enjoy it. And make sure you dance every once in a while- simply fantastic.

-This is my man Ben, and my dog Sam-
- pretty cute picture, just thought I'd share it

Ribs

What does it mean if you get two black eyes, a few twisted ankels, serious knee cap bruises, and a punctured rib? It means you are a spaz. I am a spaz. It just dawned on me yesterday too... as I stepped on Tamille's mirror and busted it ( for the second time) I don't know what my deal is- I used to be co-ordinated. Let's take a look at the punctured rib story. It starts with Ryan ( hey, i'm noticing a theme here with Ryan being in my blogs, and injury resulting) but anyways, he's sitting at the table, I am telling him a story. The story is irrelevent. My eggs start making some crazy noises, sort of a popping sound- which is my cue to go and flip them. I start my sprint to the kitchen, but the combination of wet socks on a slippery carpet is not good news- and I ended up flipping myself- with the only thing to break my fall being my clever little rib cage, which decided to snag on the metal tip of the chair. I think I hung there for a second, until my rib cage lost its grip, and then I hit the floor. Ouch. The popping sound at this point was either my eggs- now burnt, or my rib cage. Based on how I felt the next day, I am inclined to say rib cage. Anyways, moral of the story: watch out for Ryan

Allright Mike- you wanted my next blog to be dedicated to you, so here i go.
Ode to Michael. I just asked Matt what word could be used to describe Mike. He said "mole". My thoughts exactly. I spent reading week working with this guy, and I formed some new opinions of him. Granted one wish- he would want to know everything, so that he could answer everyone. If he could control one element, it would be the wind, so he could blow annoying people out of his way. He chose strength as his super power so he could push annoying people out of his way. Granted another wish, it would be unlimited money, or that everybody just stopped caring about things. I'm not even going to explain that one. I don't think any of his ideas are good- but hey, this is Mike's story. Mike's daemon is a monkey ( read Philip Pullman's Dark Materials- a daemon is symbolic of your soul, but it's an animal that cannot go any further than 3 meters from you or you will feel pain,- and it can change into any creature depending on your mood, but must stay one creature once you hit puberty- very cool)So.. it's a monkey now, but it's still changing.. hahahaha
Mike just asked me to check out his beard. I guess this means he will stay a monkey.
Mike pulls weird faces. He says weird things. You think he's quiet until he crows like a rooster an inch from your ear. He's pretty good with a yo-yo. Matt just yo-yo'ed on Mike's head, and it got tangled in his hair.
Mike. You're my psycho brother- but I love you :)

"If you don't know what you stand for, you'll fall for anything."

I have got issues. I've been falling a lot lately, and it's getting ridiculous. Maybe my shoes aren't that grippy. The fact that I can pass a sled down a hill with only my shoes on kind of leads me to that conclusion. But it's not just my shoes. Ryan thinks it's hilarious to scare me, mostly because I overreact. I tend to flip out, and then I land up on my back. Ya, I don't know- he gets a kick out of that. The worst case of falling I've had in a long time was just yesterday. I'm suprised my knees are still attached to my body, instead of locked into the ice on the Rideau Canal. Honestly-- who invented toe picks on women's skates!? I am cringing right now just thinking about that..

But let's get real. Clearly, whoever came up with the above quote did not have this in mind. I heard an excellent sermon today that made me think about this quote a little bit differently. The sermon dealt with how we are to run the race that has been set before us, and to throw off everything that ensares us on the way. The visual image was that of a man caught in a vice grip- which was slowly squeezing him to death. I've always thought of that vice grip as the things we are exposed to in this world- external things. Things we can just say NO to. But there is more to it than that. The pastor said, " If you let your life be run by your feelings, you will be slowly beaten to death by them." It's really hard to control your feelings, but God gave us a brain for a reason- thus we are able to KNOW what we stand for- rather than simply feel it.

So, once we are firmly grounded, standing strong, with little chance of falling- we are ready to start moving. Standing is great, but it indicates something that is static, immobile-- not the best strategy for completing a race. For the sake of my little analogy, I'll say the first thing i'm going to do is throw away my crappy brown shoes with no tread, because the last thing I want to do is wipe out before the finish line. Let the shoes be any type of sin you may struggle with. The bottom line is, they slow you down. Get rid of them. The next thing to do is focus. There will be times when the pressure comes from all sides, the vice grip tightens, and falling seems inevitable. Perseverance is key.

The minister told a short story ( a true story) about a man who took 4 1/2 days to complete a marathon. That is probobly THE slowest marathon run in the entire world. What makes it so remarkable is that the man had no legs. He chose to start a race that would take over 4 days to complete using his arms, while strapped to a saddle with wheels. Unreal. Why did he do it? Maybe what's worth asking is- how could he do it? One arm length at a time, he kept his mind focused on the end result, and he crossed the finish line- 3 days after every one else- but he did it. His success was largely due to his focus and perseverence.

We know what our focus is- and we refocus on it everytime we get together in church- bloody and terrible as it seems, the cross is where we find our hope. Because of Christ we can stand- and once know what we stand for, we can run. This run demands a lot. Casting aside the "weights" of the world, we run with the knowledge that if God is for us, who can stand against us? Some powerful stuff to think about- thank God we have that ability- the ability to KNOW what it is we stand for!

snow day

You know when you’re at the beach, sitting on one of those nice relaxing armchairs, and then an ant crawls up your leg? You look down, see a few straggling ants carrying grains of sand and you get this urge to just dump a pile of sand on them? You start with a light sprinkle, which they (almost arrogantly) ignore, and then the sand in your hand starts to spill out a little faster.. amazingly, they can keep working- popping up within seconds of being covered. Then, you just can’t help it- you cover them about a mile deep (in the ant’s eyes)
-you just go and dump your whole hand full of sand on their little bodies- sit back, and see how long it will take them to struggle to the surface.

God has just dumped a pile of snow on us. I'm not sure why, but it reminds me of ants on a beach. Like tiny ants we have furiously worked to swish away the snow that He started sprinkling. Some of us are annoyed by it, some delight in it, and others are just hoping for a friggen snow day. Then God’s hand opened up a little- the snow came a little faster- and our working forces went into high gear. Just picture us from God’s eye view—what little warriors-with our trucks out plowing, frantically clearing roads all through the night- but the work is tedious, because the snow just keeps coming..Now, what got me thinking is this: would God ever open up His hand entirely? What if the snow never stopped?? There is only so much the ant can do before he realizes he’s done for- he can only do so much--

It’s kind of crazy to think about. We can’t ‘turn on’ a blizzard, and we most definitely cannot turn it off. God is in charge of that stuff. The elements are at His beck and call… and who’s to say He won’t get that urge to just bury us? Well, I suppose the Bible lets us know He won’t. He knows when enough is enough. He’s the kind of God that sits in the armchair at the beach, and (assuming He is even able to pour too much sand) brushes the sand away to make sure the ant makes it back into the sunshine.
I think it’s important to really think about that. The concept behind this is that God is 100% in control- even though we like to think we are. This snowstorm (for some) is a rude awakening to the reality that there are just some things out of our control. We are so helpless!

So- ya, if God wanted He could bury us with snow, but He loves us enough that at just the right time, He squeezes His hand tight- and we always trust that He will. Now we need to sit back and thank God He is in charge…. And pray that He sends a few more feet of snow to secure that snow day..

Thinking..

The human mind is incredible. To think that everything we ever encounter in our lives is somewhere lodged in our brains...and what we forget is still in there somewhere, unable to leak out. Weird to think that we can trap our thoughts in our heads forever. Weird even just to think. How does the mind even work? Can someone explain to me how a part of my mind can be studying for a history exam, while the other part of my mind is off in it's own world, thinking about completely irrelevent things, like what life would be like if you were a louse?

I mean, what makes you think what you think? If the answer is simply that outside stimulants trigger memories in your brain to be recalled, then i wonder why we are not consumed by our memories.. we are always seeing things that remind us of something. But, of course, we would be unable to function if that was the case-our minds would be permanently occupied with things from the past. So perhaps we have some sort of filter.. who knows?

What I think is truly amazing is that I am stuck here right now- at my house, in one room, on a chair- limited by my humanness to be anywhere else at this exact point in time, but my mind doesn't have the same rules. It defies all that-- and can travel wherever the heck it wants. So really-- right now i'm feeling trapped.. but the thoughts in my head ( which are also trapped) have the ability to make me feel a lot less trapped. Now that blows my mind...

Being Fed

I miss my Zulu friends from Agathos. Their culture, their country, their way of life. My brother just got home from South Africa, and I couldn't help but be reminded of my trip not so long ago. I spent about a week at Agathos orphanage- a single week- and out of my two month stay, the week i spent with those kids is by far my best memory. I remember getting out of the car, and being swarmed by about 20 curious, excited, laughing kids. My skin was white, my hair was blonde-ish, and I was from North America! They couldn't get over it. After a few days, I began to hear some of their stories. Orphans- left on the streets by indifferent parents, or parents who had no money, or who were dying from AIDS, or who had allready died. There were kids with full-blown TB, malaria, and AIDS. I held babies that were found in the toilet, or a dumpster, or just picked up off the streets. I can't forget the 14 year old girl that was kidnapped by her Uncle from Uganda and somehow landed up in the orphanage... pregnant. Man, it's a sad world. Yet, most of those kids were so happy! I didn't get it!! Of course, they were kids, ignorant of the reality of their situation... content to live one day at a time, playing swords, dancing, singing- wow- could they sing!
But what took me a while to figure out was what made these kids so content? I mean, sure, the area was absolutely beautiful, the people were friendly, they had a chance to go to school- but did that override the sickness, poverty and brokenness that was constantly threatening that tiny haven "Agathos"?
- I think the secret to their joy was that they were simply fed- in every sense of the word. They were loved. Cared for.Taught. Safe-because someone was looking after them. Kids don't notice poverty that much- they really don't. What they notice is that someone cares for them. It makes all the difference. The orphanage may have been poor- but these kids were eating like 'kings', and it showed. God's Word was opened, discussed, and taught regularly, and when Sunday rolled around- kids got excited for the trip to church!
Huh-- I guess it just makes me think. I tend to take being "fed" for granted. I can 'eat' whenever I want- I am surrounded by Christian friends, teachers, family, and of course, the Bible is always within reach. I did a devotional the other day on the dangers of a Christian university and one main concern was that of being desensitzed to Christianity. Constantly bombarded with christian teaching-perhaps the danger comes from being overfed-which seems to be a recurring problem in the rich western world..(Kinda takes a new spin on the NA problem of obesity)
Thinking back to those kids really puts things into perspective. They are a refreshing reminder of the love of God. He cares for them- and He cares for us- and though to some He has given very little, and to others much more- His love is the same. What a blessing- Let's not take it for granted.

Time of your Life

Childhood. Roughly 15 years of your life to be a kid. Not a heck of a lot- if you think about it. For some reason, my friends and I always had a keen sense of awareness that those years would be preciously short-- a span of time that would whip us around, fling us full force into a million adventures, and then dump us into the real world- as adults. And here I am. 20. I’m not sure when the transition happened- time is so gradual, but there is no denying that at 20, you’re not a kid anymore. “Fun” connotates (?) something completely different than when I was 10 or even 15.. and yet, strangely, I often still feel like a kid. I made a fort a few weeks ago in our living room, consisting of 8 mattresses, sheets draped like a ginormous tent, and heaps of pillows to keep things cozy. Then we had a slumber party. And I’m 20. My sister was married at 20. Wow- time flies.

Today I went home for a visit and the boys went out to boot around on the snowmobiles with my cousins. They were pulling tubes- whipping the kids at 100mph. I lasted about 3 minutes in the living room socializing with the Bakkers before I decided I had to try out that tube. Well worth it. I told Michelle she had to get out there- but she was taking care of Benjamin. She’s very responsible. But even if he didn’t need a diaper change, I can’t see my sister on the back of a tube being yanked around the pasture behind a snowmobile…

But maybe this has absolutely nothing to do with growing up. Perhaps it’s dumb of me to even draw that comparison. We’ve always been completely different. But it just hits me sometimes, like my sister’s jab to the ribs (she has a nasty sucker punch :) that we are SO different. Maybe I’m just not going to be the type of person who outgrows my childhood pastimes. Maybe what I did for fun, and do for fun, will always be fun—and I’ll just never get off that “snowmobile” that whips me around, and flings me full force into the unknowns of life- and I’ll face each challenge, obstacle, and unknown as an adventure- Sounds ideal. I wonder if that’s how I’ll turn out? I guess time will tell.

What makes me smile

1) chinese checkers with Katrina
2) crunchy snow
3) tea in the morning
4) weird people
5) disney movies
6) my rhino picture
7) airplane take offs
8) whangdoodles
9) cabbage rolls on my birthday
10) the black stallion's last race

11) good music

12) beating Kirk at ping pong

13) My snork

14) the word " discombobulate"

15) canoodling

16) campfires

17) Jamaican bobsledding

18) Ryan's films

19) Chicago Bulls Theme song

20) Failing road tests

21) Basketball

22) Throwing mouldy wraps

23) my grandma

24) Spanish Prof.. haha

25) fuzzy blankets

26) unique minds

27) Tamille

28) clown fish

29) my crazy childhood

30) slumber parties

31) when people giggle

* I guess it doesn't take much-
* life is so much better when you're smiling

Perfect Timing

Today is Sunday. It was only 7 days ago that I was last sitting in church, being reminded, challenged, and inspired to start the week fresh- to wake up each morning and say "This is the day the Lord has made!" - Seize it, live it, glory in the fact that God has branded me His own- and accept the joys and responsibilities that go with it. Man, after church it really hits me how good it is to be a Christian. To be together with the body of believers, to sing, hear the preaching, and be fed in a way that I can't really express. And when your heart is full to bursting, to set out for home, ready to face a new day, face the world, and shine the light that God has so graciously rekindled.

But we forget so quickly. By Monday night, I'm struggling. The bonfire becomes a wimpy flame, fragile, flickering; growing weaker and weaker each day. Why is that? What is it about re-entering the "real world" that makes us forget? Can we really be so fickle? We bicker, fight, gossip, slander, hate, abuse, and in our ignorance we somehow still try to convince ourselves that we are wonderful people. It's sad. As the flame retreats under a bushel-preferring the "shelter" provided, we don't even notice. In fact- we leave it there, safe, secure, and indifferent. Soon it becomes a dying ember, and what do we do? Pull out the magnifying glass, fool ourselves into thinking we still harbour a bonfire in our hearts because we can regurgitate doctrine, quote scripture, or whatever else it is that makes us think we have got things together. But where is the passion?

God is so good to such a miserable crowd of people- That's why after 6 days He tells us to get back together, so we can actually "get things together." His timing is perfect. He won't let the flame die. Today there was a baptism followed by the Lord's Supper. What better way to experience the communion of the saints than through these two sacraments? To be reminded of the covenant God made with us, and then to be hit again with the reality that Christ had to DIE. It's humiliating. Everything that was so important the week before, things that pushed God into the margins, things that caused our flame to sputter seem to lose their significance. We refocus, exchanging our inverted eyeballs for a set that looks good because it looks to Christ.

We need Sunday. We need a day set aside for rest and worship, a day to be reminded, because unfortunately, we quite quickly forget. We forget who we are, what is demanded of us, and how we are supposed to live. God knows this, loves us anyways, and willingly sets us straight so we can begin a new week again. The cycle continues, but God never gives up on us.
Amazing.

I'm not sure why I want to start blogging. Maybe to pin down some thoughts that tend to pop up in my brain from time to time. Thoughts that I don't entertain for very long, but by putting them off, they grow more insistent- clawing their way from the back of my mind, and demanding my attention. I dont' know whyI stuff them there. They obviously don't like it.

Maybe I want to start blogging just out of curiosity. What will happen when my ideas move from my mind to the computer screen? It's interesting. I have no idea right now how this blog will turn out, but the thoughts in my head ( that i never really consciously knew were existent) have now made themselves evident because i've forced them to become words. Readable, tangible, concrete. This amazes me. It also amazes me that the words i write seem to fill up so much space, and yet what exactly have I written about? Ironic how abstract the concrete can be.

But to be brutally honest, I want to blog because my handwriting is garbage. I've kept a journal for years, and I've noticed that with time, the words I want to put on paper-which take on the ideal form in my mind- mutate into a mush of scribbles by the time they hit the paper. What is that all about? There was a time back in 4th grade when cursive writing was something to be proud of. Now? My letters have rebelled against convention- t's pass for l's, r's are hopeless scribbles, m's and n's have turned communist with their equal distribution of 'humps' and any long words are cut in half thanks to 'filler letters' that embody the essential curves and lines necessary for the brain to make the connection to a word and its meaning. Efficient? Sure, if I didn't need to hire someone to decipher my journal.

I guess those are the three main reasons to start this blog. But if those were the only reasons, I would just type letters to myself, and that would be dumb. So for my 4th and final reason, I really want to keep my family and friends posted on my life, thoughts, and whatever else compels me to write- and as a side note- Doug, i hope you do the same!