Exactly Where I Need to Be

 

Despite the title of this posting, I will confess that I'd really rather be by still waters at sunset today than where I am.

And also.

It's ended up being a weekend of the not-as-any-of-us-imagined anyways. Canada Day celebrations, after a few decent heat waves already this season, to be cold and blowy and rather miserable, weather-wise, is not what anyone was hoping for. And wherever you planned to be, likely it was supposed to be a bit more, well, summery.

And that we could do the opening service on the Freddy today!!!

But instead.

I am tucked up in bed.
Blankets and tea.
Scandalous/perfect amount of pillows.
The window just cracked open a little to let in some fresh air.

And even as I flip through photos in wistful way, I do know that, yes, I am exactly where I need to be.

In terms of the timing of a medical emergency, there is no good date to put such a thing on the calendar. For me, on one hand, it's very good that I wasn't at the cottage or in Thailand or, even worse, on the plane, when all this happened. On the other hand...did I mention we are in the middle of the biggest, and most complex move of our married lives?

But acceptance is like a layering of peace on the spaces of my heart that want to be in charge. Disappointment, while being a legitimate enough thing to validate, doesn't bring much benefit from lingering on it.

So here I am.
And it's where I need to be.
Right now.
Right here.

And I'll close my eyes and just be here for a nap now.

Happy Canada Day Weekend, all.

Having My Appendix Out Part 3 - Coming Home

 

In what I expect will be the last installment of this short-but-impactful series, I am happy to report that I was given the green light to come just after supper yesterday.

It didn't look that way by 4 p.m. which is when I had been told earlier was the window. So I had just communicated the 'one more night' message to my family and others, ate a decent supper, and was settling in to a Friday night on y own waiting to FB video chat into Abby's 18th birthday party.

Then the doctor came in, told me all my metrics were excellent, gave me the clear, and a few home-care instructions. As soon as she left, I called over and said, "Have you opened the presents yet?"

A few papers to sign, a change of dressings, getting rid of the last remaining tubes, getting myself into real clothes, packing up a bit, and there was Ken ready to sneak me into the last bit of celebrating our granddaughter's milestone birthday.

A stop at the pharmacist to get all the medication instructions. And then....oh, that lovely sensation of settling into your very own bed. Very good sleep last night. Little to no pain or discomfort this morning. Setting myself up for an obedient day of rest and recovery.

Much to my surprise, and quite contrary to my personality type, and even more unusual given our current mid-move status, I am not even tempted to 'do too much' or lift anything at all, heavy or not. The pain I experienced at the beginning of this little unexpected excursion was the worst in my life (that includes two childbirths and passing a 7 mm kidney stone) and I have NO desire to do ANYTHING that might bring any of it back around my way in terms of complications or relapse.

So dear worried-because-you-know-me friends. I'm staying put today, in bed mostly, up and moving around gently as is actually prescribed, and allowing all that needs to be done to be done in its own good time. Because, let's face it, that's how it usually happens anyways. I'm not allowed to drive until a full 24 hours after taking one of my pain meds anyways, so that helps keep me stationed too.

At this moment I have already accomplished one of the top priority items on my list for the day: washed my hair. There's nothing that says you're home from the hospital quite like a good hair wash.

I am amazed at the incredible, professional, top notch care I received by every single person who tended to any and all of my needs in this medical situation. My own family doctor ready to see me within 15 minutes of my first call. The staff and volunteers in the Emergency receiving and waiting areas. Every nurse, physician, specialist, blood tech, radiologist, porter, and housekeeping staff did their job with dedication, skill and compassion. I thanked them everyone, every chance I got. But, honestly, I can't thank them enough.

Those who I had to bail on because we were supposed to get together for something, I'm sorry, thanks for understanding.
Everyone who stepped in to do something I was supposed to do this past week, thanks.
Everyone who adjusted with Ken on his things while he cared for me, thank you.
Everyone who stopped by the house do wrap that gift, or drop off a lunch, thanks so much.
Those who stopped in at the hospital for a quick visit, even though my stay was short, some of you sneak it in, thank you.
My children and grandchildren, both those who stopped by and those who stayed away because of coughs but kept checking in on me. I love you, thank you.

My husband. What a gentle trooper for me. That's all I'll say here.

And to God who knows the prefect timing for everything, even the everything's no one sees coming, even the everything's that there is no good time for. I see His hand in all of and bear witness to His sustaining power and grace and healing.

So, while this will be the last in this posting series, there are still so, so many good learnings for me in all of this that I can't believe you've heard the last of it.

Life is such a good education if you just keep paying attention.

Kind of a soggy start to the long weekend, eh?
Hope whatever you're up to, you can enjoy it.

Photo: A shot of the Bowman's campfire the night before this little adventure started. Seemed fitting in that it will be a familiar sight to many of you, and also kind of represents the chill, no-stress vibe, I'm obediently enjoying right now.

Having My Appendix Out Part 2 - The View From Here

I found a sunrise!

Thank you Lord, for finding me a room with a sunrise view!

Yesterday I had my appendix out. Or maybe you know that already.

Forgive me. It's been the first time in my life I've ever been an overnight patient with anything this interesting happening, other than when I had my tonsils out at 16, which wasn't all that interesting.

So this is registering as kind of a big deal. And I think maybe repeating the fact to myself, and to you, is helping me process a little.

First the medical report where I try to give out information that fits the three point criteria; 1. That which is interesting to those who are curious, 2. Nothing so medical it might make friends squeamish, 3. Doesn't tip into the TMI category either way.

At one point during this week, my appendix had ruptured and apparently I was quite a mess inside. Surgery was yesterday and the surgeon says all went well. But the 'extra' of the rupture did leave me with a drain which is an automatic overnight stay so they can keep an eye on things.

So far, things seem to be moving in the direction I was told suggests a release from hospital today. But I'm really just taking things moment by moment.

I do seem to be having one of those double bind things going on where I need to cough deeply in order to clear my trachea from the breathing tube leftovers and get my O2 levels back up into the high 90s....but..... coughing that deeply, hurts like Halifax. [No disrespect to Halifax, but that's as strong a language as you're going to get from me, on line at least, and that kind of pain deserves strong language!]

So some deep coughing and pulmonary function exercises are top on my list today. That and extending my walks, getting up and moving around a bit more.

Next, onto the bigger things about all this that have had the potential to make this crazy time in our lives even more so.

Yesterday Abby graduated from high school but I couldn't be there.

Today is her birthday, so we'll see how things pan out today, but...

Opening Sunday with Cognashene Community Church will happen under the capable and flexible leadership of a Church Board who has been so understanding as to why I've had to bail. Leading that service every summer is truly one of the highlights of my entire year. That also makes me sad.

And...regardless of any medical issues going on, we still have only until July 18 to clear out our house.

So. Yeah. A lot going on.

Someone commented yesterday that, after reading my post, she thought I sounded so calm. Truthfully, I am.

It might have something to do with the anesthetic I enjoyed the effects of several hours post op. And/or the pain meds I'm not saying no to. And/or to the fact that considering how much it all hurt before, lying in this comfy hospital bed with the two extra pillows and fleece blanket Ken brought from home, with the sunshine coming in the window, well that's all just fine with me.

Another factor is that I'm surrounded by professionals who are monitoring my well-being fairly closely, giving reassurances of my progress, and doing their jobs beautifully! Such a calming presence.

I am also deeply grateful that this didn't end up becoming something more serious. Especially given my own delay in seeing the doctor, believing I was dealing with a first flare up of diverticulitis, like I've said. Honestly? Whatever the outcomes or inconveniences otherwise, how can I be anything but amazed that I'm this okay?

Also, one last calming factor. It's all I've been practicing this whole year, leaning into the rest of faith, releasing absolutely everything into the care of a God I truly believe loves me and is working out all things according to His purposes.

There is certainly a different set of priorities for me over the next few days. More about paying attention to my healing, while at the same time supporting Ken in all that still needs to be done.

We've been receiving so much support and offers of care!

Thank you!

We will not be shy about putting you all to work, those who've offered, once we actually know my release date and what will be required.

We thank you so much for your prayers.

Honestly.

You also brighten up the view from here.

Having My Appendix Out Part 1 - Reflections in Emerg

 

I’ll start by commenting on how unpredictable life is.

And that right now, I'm okay. 

That’s because the next thing I’m going to tell you is that I spent the better part of Wednesday afternoon and overnight into Thursday in Emerg, being examined and treated for what I thought was a diverticulitis flare up.  Since the purpose of telling this part of the story isn’t to give much attention to my gut at all, and since, like I said, I’m okay, I’ll save the medical update for the very end.  It will be quite a twist of plot.  But of course I have already given that away in the title. 

What I want to report first is how positive my experience was yesterday afternoon.

I know there are problems with our health system.  I know this.  But whatever those are, they weren’t glaringly obvious in the emerge department at GRH yesterday.  Beyond the efficient care I personally received, what I noticed the most was the gentle compassion shown by the volunteers, the lab techs, intake nurses, police and para-medics, and all the hospital type folks taking blood pressures, taking temperatures, and otherwise moving us along in the process. 

I was experiencing a significant amount of pain (update later, like I said), and at no time was I rushed into my seat or off to the next waiting area.  Take your time, everyone said.  A little guy who threw up all over himself was quickly tended to by a volunteer who got him a new sheet, and a wet cloth, and all the while encouraged him that he was doing so good.  A baby girl was given lots of room to be in her comfy stroller to eat her popsicle, and be rolled back and forth when she needed it.  And a little girl with a bead up her nose had an amazing Dad who made sure her device was on a low volume, while the volunteer stopped to ask about her her favourite flavour of popsicle. 

Additionally, I observed a quiet respect for one another amongst us regular folks, other patients like me, looking out for one another in the waiting room.

Cranky children were entertained by strangers.  Folks who had been there longer were happy to direct you to the bathrooms.  A baby girl was given lots of room to be in her comfy stroller to eat her popsicle, and be rolled back and forth when she needed it.  And when she and her mom went down the hall for a little walk and the nurse called her name, people knew who she was and went running to get her. 

Humans being good humans even when they weren’t feeling on top of their game.  People caring for one another, even as they waited to be cared for.

It was lovely.

And since we hear so much about all that’s wrong with all our systems, especially our health system, I thought I would just report on all that was good and right about an afternoon in emerg.

Okay, so my own medical update.  Apologies if any of this is TMI.  I have known that I have diverticulosis for more than a decade.  No problems.  But what I thought I was experiencing this week is called a ‘flare up’, where the “-osis” changes to “-itis.”  That’s a change from “condition of” to “inflammation of.” 

Got a CT scan to confirm (let’s call it a gut check), and then came the surprise.

All the pain and discomfort I've been experiencing since Monday afternoon already, is NOT about my intestines.  It's about my appendix!!

Well then.

This is much more involved than just being prescribed some antibiotics and being warned to avoid nuts.
This will involve surgery and recovery.
And all this happening midst a pretty crazy time in our lives!

Closing date is July 18.

 I was supposed to be leading the service at Cognashene Community Church this weekend.

So that's not happening.

I was supposed to be at Abby's graduation from high school tonight.

So that's not happening.

I was supposed to be hauling boxes and bins into the van to help clear out our house.

So that's not happening.

As I write, I am waiting to hear when my surgery is scheduled.

Today.

And then recovery.

So, in the midst of an uncertain time, more uncertainty.

The picture isn't from anywhere in the hospital, of course.
Just thought I look at something calming and reflective.

I will try to keep you posted.

Sort of depends on what good drugs I'm on over the next few days.

Thanks for all your care and love.

 

Empty Shelves and Psalm 91

By now, I am finding there to be an odd tension between all we're getting done packing-wise, and how it looks and feels as we do it.

These empty shelves, for instance. My library.

On one hand, it's so satisfying to see the units ready to go, cleared of all the books to their various temporary destinations. Some will come with me to the cottage. Some have gone back to the church tucked onto a few shelves I've been granted during this interim. But the bulk of them have been carefully boxed and labelled and are headed for storage.

Books are a little like good friends to me, so it's been important to be fairly meticulous about what's happening with them, especially since this isn't a straightforward move.

So, yeah. Cleared off shelves, units labelled ready to go. Big fat check mark off the list.

And.

Man that looks lonely! And cold. And unsettling.

And if I'm honest, in these days of dismantling everything that has been familiar and comfortable and conveniently placed for ready use and reference for oh so many years, the whole house feels that way. Nothing is where it's supposed to be.

In a few days I will be back to the cottage where things have been familiar and comfortable and conveniently and lovingly places for actually much longer than Ken and I have lived in this house. So soon I will be again surrounded and settled.

But for now, in these last intensive days of moving out, it's been important to remind myself of what and where and Who home truly is.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty."
Psalm 91:1

Home is where the heart is, right?

Looking like a great day to work out in the yard again. It's amazing how much one can collect and just tuck in and behind the shed or around back corners. Glad for Zachary's help again today.

Have a wonderful Wednesday, everyone!

What We Leave Behind

In case today's accompanying photos give the wrong impression, I will remind us all that I am so not a gardener.

All I've done, over the years, is listen to the advice of friends who are so much more garden-wise than I, planted a thing here and there to see what works, and then, like today, taken pictures of whatever actually takes root and blooms in spite of me.

These days, as I see the hostas and the others (see, I can't even remember what they are!) coming into their own, I am enjoying them more the way you enjoy a gift you're giving someone else, than someone you have to yourself. The garden won't come with me, of course. What's growing there now I will leave behind for the enjoyment of the fine folks who have purchased our home.

By mid-July, when they take possession, things will be in full flower. My hope is that it will be it's own kind of welcome as they pull into the driveway with the moving van.

I'm glad for this reminder. Most of my attention of late has been focused on what I will be taking with me. That is, pretty much, a good definition of "packing," and "packing" has become a necessary obsession.

But as the cupboards and walls get barer, and the boxes get stacked out of the way in their various piles of destination, I am more and more mindful of the people and their life that will soon inhabit this space instead of us. And I'm more in tune with what I will be leaving behind for them.

The flowers and garden yes. Then there are a few items of furniture and fixtures and window coverings identified in the agreement. But also making sure to leave behind the cleanest new house and yard I can give them, and perhaps making sure there is toilet paper and tissue and paper towels.

And a note. I haven't written it yet. But, along with all the manuals for all the appliances and such, I intend to write a note of blessing over their new life here.

In leaving my house, perhaps it's obvious what I leave behind. But it's making me think of both the micro and macro applications of that thought.

In the macro, of course, it's what you leave behind when your time here is done. Attended a funeral just last week, and it was so obvious again what really matters, and how important it is to leave behind a legacy for the people in your life by how well you loved them.

In the micro, I can't help but wonder what I might leave behind in every single human interaction throughout any given day. Whether deep and meaningful, or quick and casual. Did I plant something good, something helpful, something hopeful?

Something like green buds preparing to flower maybe?
Hope so.

It's only Tuesday. I'm greatly encouraged with the progress we're making according to the tasks and timelines we've set for ourselves so far. So much so, that a previously planned 'packing party' for tomorrow afternoon is no longer necessary! The things that are left really need that tedious, in-my-own-head kind of sorting anyways.

But we are tired. Very much so.
Moving house is not for the faint of heart, body, mind or soul!
Grateful for all the grace being poured on on us right now!

When It Hurts Because It's Supposed To

Not gunna lie.  

Yesterday was hard.

And it kind of snuck up on me.

Usually I can give myself a bit of notice, emotionally prepare myself.  But this particular 'last time for a while' wasn't adequately noted on my 'tasks and timeline for the move' calendar.  In retrospect, I should have had a line on last week's to do list that read 'brace yourself to say goodbye on Sunday.'

Yes, okay, I know that there's an element of seasonal cycles where for decades now I've been away from my faith community for a period of time over the summer.  There have been oh so many 'last Sundays' when I have worshipped, Communed, and hugged, and conversed, and laughed, and listened and been listened to, loved and been loved, being fully aware that it will be a while until I'm together with these beautiful humans again.  

But yesterday was different.  It marked the beginning of what right now looks like a prolonged, four-month absence while we station ourselves at the cottage during the building of our new home.  Yes, there are planned Sundays when we'll be back, and more yet to be arranged.  Yes, I'm 'still working' and that means lots of Zoom meetings and other ways to connect.  Yes, there is technology and all the good means by which we can nurture our friendships even when we're apart.

But all through the service yesterday, and especially in my conversations afterwards, I felt that kind of heaviness that comes when you love deeply and are going away.

Next level honesty here.  It was hard not to flashback to six years ago when I stepped away for a time during a different kind of life transition.  Sometimes it's hard not to take pain from the past and lay it pre-emptively onto an anticipated future.  Yesterday there was some of that.

This move is significant, and layered, and a tad complex, and requires just a whole lot of keeping our wits about us as we proceed through the different stages.  I've been keeping my wits mostly in check with lists and tasks and prayer and reciting all the Scripture I can muster.  

But sometimes there are just the feels.

Sometimes it's just supposed to hurt.

Highview, thank you for being a faith community that's so hard to be away from.

Thank you for being worshippers I will so badly miss worshipping with.

Thank you for lingering so long after service to love on each other (and for all the ways you do that all through the week).

Thank you for all your care and support and prayers and offers of practical help through this big thing Ken and I are doing.

We will be back as often as we possibly can.

Good thing love is stretchy.

The Misty Middle

 

Early walks are the only way to cope in this prolonged heat wave. This is 5:30 a.m. and so worth it to let the low lying fog make even the hydro towers seem mystical somehow.

I believe my body is filing an official complaint as I make my way along my route. All the packing and going up and down the stairs yesterday makes everything a tad stiff this morning.

All the more I need this mystical misty walk.

We cannot say thank you enough to the hearty packing crew who came yesterday. There is NO WAY we could get it all done without help. None. And for all your sweat equity yesterday, and possible aches and pains today, we are so grateful for you!!!

Today will be more packing, of course.
But also a pause to remember the life of a strong and vibrant woman who left a large legacy for her family.
Christine Hiemstra Praying comfort for her loved ones and friends.

Back to the mist.

Out there this morning, and stopping to take the picture, I realized that Ken and I have now moved past that sense of there being a 'misty middle' in our transitional plans this summer. We now have dates, and movers booked, and a calendar that is, yes, rather complex, but quite doable. We have friends who are gathering around us in very concrete, practical ways. We have more than everything we need for 'life and godliness' (2 Peter 1:3). Life is abundant as promised (John 10:10).

It's all an adventure, folks.
Hope wherever yours takes you today is exactly what you need it to be.
And that you can stay cool!!!

Before We Know It's All Going to Be Okay, Is it Still Okay?

It's a tad anticlimactic by now, but here, at last, is the iconic picture I've been waiting to post.

It takes a little while for all the paperwork to come through before you're allowed to mark your house as "Sold," apparently. But never mind. It's really happening!

It's been an experience, this whole foray into our next adventure. Selling the house was only one step in a series of decisions and arrangements and negotiations and planning. But it was near to the beginning of things, and probably the one that held the most implications.

I'm talking about timing mostly.

To be honest, we expected things to go more quickly. In our minds, that would have set us up for the best schedule of events, both the building and moving in, over the summer. Nice and tidy, everything ready for the fall and a new season to begin in our new home.

But lots has changed in the market in the two years we've been working on this. And no one can predict these things. And what it ended up being was a two month 'delay' on our well laid out plan.

There's a verse in Proverbs I've always loved to quote because it sounds so much like the 'right answer.' But I'm now having to live it out in real time.

"Many are the plans in a person's heart,
but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails."
Proverbs 19:21

In our particular case, at least as we see it so far, this 'delay' is actually working out to be to our advantage in a number of surprising ways. And we rejoice in that. We 'bear testimony' to the greater purposes of God and His wisdom in ordering things differently than we would have, because, obviously He knows better. And likely, I'll be writing more about all those surprise benefits in the weeks to come.

But an honest reflection on this text, on this idea, has to include that sometimes we do NOT get to see what the advantages are to God's greater purposes. In fact, a LOT of the time, we don't.

And I'm thinking this is the difference between a superstitious-esque kind of interaction with God, where we try to manipulate outcomes in the tight little spaces of our personal preferences, and a faith that trusts God's work in the unseen and eternal spaces of prevailing purpose, no matter what.

It's all fine and good for me to be happily going about my merry way, now that I can see the benefits in the delay. It was another thing about two weeks ago when I had to 'white-knuckle' it on the faith-ride we were on. In those spaces, I kept hearing the Father ask me if I actually trusted Him the way I claim I do.

So, today, I happily post the SOLD picture, and it's a good day.
But in another way, those un-SOLD days, those were good days too; of being real, of spiritual intimacy, of making sure I really live as if I believe God is who He says He is.

Packing party today. I have iced tea and some other cooling treats ready for the friends who have said they'd stop by. I have packing supplies and markers and labels, and general categories of 'stuff' all lined up. Things are progressing well, and I am enjoying the pace of it. So far at least :).

Thank you, everyone who is praying for us, cheering us on, offering help and a place to sleep in the in between places of our comings and going this summer.

Between July 18 and 'end of November' we will not be homeless. We have a cottage.
We have a community.

Hope your day goes amazingly well, whatever you're up to.

Big Brother Birthday

Happy Birthday Zachary!

Yesterday we again saw evidence of the strong, kind young man you are becoming.

With great patience and giving your full attention, you spent quite a bit of your pool time teaching little brother Jayden how to push off from the side of the pool and stay underwater for the glide.

I loved watching this; your clear instruction, your encouragement for every little success, your willingness to repeat things over and over until Jayden felt satisfied with the results.

I honestly don't know of another 14-turning-15 year old who has such a strong work ethic, is sensitive to the feelings of others, and looks for ways to interact with people so positively the way you do.

Grandad and I are so glad God gifted you to this family!

Happiest of days.

See you later for cake!!!!!

Basket Build Up

When we were still away, and I was thinking ahead to the task of packing, I wondered whether or not I might find a few extra baskets at the house for a few practical and decorative touches at the cottage.

Packing is its own thing. So many categories to assign, in hopes of keeping it all organized for the time of unpacking on the other end. Books, bedding, kitchenware, clothes. But I don't think I realized just how much of a category 'baskets' would be!

I have a fondness for baskets. I knew that. But now that I'm emptying and gathering them, I'm just a little bit surprised by how many I actually have. Pictured here are just the small percentage I'm not too embarrassed to show you.

And the thing is, if I'm being perfectly honest, this whole exercise of purging and cleaning and packing and moving has revealed that I own a startling abundance of 'stuff' in general. It's messing with the image I have had of myself as being someone NOT caught up in materialism and consumerism.

And yet here I am with a scandalous amount of baskets.

Among other "things."

Paul's words of instruction to his pastoral mentee, Timothy, come to mind here.

"But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that."
1 Timothy 6:6

Before I scold myself too harshly, I sense the Spirit reminding me that there is a lifetime of raising first, children, then grandchildren over the past 36 years in the house. It has welcomed people to the table, hosted countless meetings, and been a space for folks to at times unburden themselves when life has been heavy.

The house is "full" of more than just "stuff."

This current move to a more simpler way of living is part of the work He is doing in my heart now, at this particular stage of my life, and was not the focus in years past.

But a build up of baskets is still a good visual moment of spiritual formation, asking me to pause and just take stock; of both the "things", and my level of contentment.

And I guess I do have a few I can take back to the cottage.

Given this is only Tuesday, and looking around at the state of things, I'd say we're off to a great start. We'll still have a lot ready for when some friends to join us on Thursday afternoon for a 'packing party,' but the tedious 'don't talk to me while I think this through' packing is well underway.

Hope everyone is staying cool.
Our house, with no AC, stays cool thanks to mature trees and strategically places fans.
Glad for that.
Glad for bins and boxes.
Glad for packing tape.
Glad for baskets.

And yes, since I can hear some of you suggesting it,

I AM using baskets to help with the packing. :)

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

 

This is our front room right now.

The contrast couldn't be greater since, for the past two months the entire house has looked a little more like a hotel room than where people actually live. All the floor space you can reveal is how it's all been set up. Clean, tidy, pristine.

But now we're back and we are packing with a great fervor and determination. All the bins and boxes so carefully put in storage during all the open houses are now emancipated to do their thing.

I'm greatly encouraged by how much we've already been able to get done, given we only been home since Saturday evening. And then, after church we worked on it a little just to get it all 'started.' But we go a lot accomplished in that little bit. So I think we might actually be able to do this!!!

It's not a simple move.
There are categories.

First, there's what we'll need to keep with us for the four and a half months between closing date and moving in to the new build.
That's going to the cottage with us. Clothes mostly, but I confess I'll be bringing a few special things you might call 'décor' but actually have important significance. That's just to keep track of them, and because they are in their own way comforting and/or reassuring in the midst of a disrupted life.

Then there's packing for Thailand, which I have to do now even though departure date isn't until end of July. That's tricky. And I'm glad for a little bit of space at the church to collect Sponsors' packets and ESL materials in a separate suitcase.

Then there's what's going into storage. That may sound simple, but in advance I'm tagging the furniture and the bins with what rooms they might eventually end up in. Good thing we have the blueprints and have measured everything already. :)

Then there's all the 'leftovers' I'm not quite sure about yet. That's where most of my brain power will likely be going today and tomorrow.

By the way, anyone want to talk about a Caroms table, or a very large, cherry wood bookcase from the Victorian era? We have a few ideas but we certainly want to do right by these heirloom Breithaupt pieces.

Speaking of brain power, neither Ken nor I are totally 'off' work due to the nature of what we do. While we have been excused from most meetings, there are still emails that need responses and time-sensitive matters to tend to. Friends, if this involves you, and I'm not getting back to you soon enough, please do not feel shy about sending another email to prompt me!

In the midst of this, we are saddened to hear the news of an 'extended' family member's passing, and will be on call and looking for ways to love and support.

So, Monday morning of a different sort for sure.
And then there's the heat warnings!
I made iced tea.

Whatever starts this week for you, I wish you calm midst the chaos, cool spaces in the heat, comfort in any sorrow, and confidence for the adventures ahead.

Storm Scrabble

 

"The name of the LORD is a fortified tower;
the righteous run into it and are safe."
Proverbs 18:10

Not sure our bunkie entirely qualifies as a 'fortified tower' but it comes close.

When we traveled to North Carolina for the weekend workshop-sales pitch with Deltec who prefabs these babies, one of the biggest selling points they emphasized was the design's resilience to catastrophic storms.

I won't go into all the physics of it, even if I could remember it all, but the bottom line was that, when a hurricane or tornado swept away all surrounding buildings, their structures remained intact.

To be honest, we didn't think we'd need all that. We were just more intrigued by the unique shape and look, and the cool things you can do inside with the walls and such.

But yesterday around supper, when all the weather apps were warning about tornados, and when a friend and even our children contacted us to make sure we knew about it, and since the cottage we actually sleep in has no basement, we remembered all the stories they told us about storm resilience and decided it might be prudent to take our Scrabble board and ride things out over there.

We battened down all the hatches, lowered the boat's canopy, reinforced the moorings, put away all the lighter deck furniture, even brought in my deck plants. And then we headed over.

It was only gently rumbling by the time we got our board set up. But then the sky became more threatening. As things progressed we even got those blaring alarm alerts on our phones warning of an actual tornado and telling us to take cover safely indoors.

But since we already had, we played on.

At one point of the game/storm, during which I really should have taken a quick video, the rain was truly coming at the sliding doors in sheets. We couldn't see the other side of the shore. It was as if someone had a fire hose pointed at us.

And we played on.

And it occurred to me that this is the what the 'fortified tower' of Proverbs 18:10 looks like.

Actually, back in ancient cities, there was usually a tower positioned at least one corner of the city wall. When the city was in danger, most often from attackers, the citizens would literally run into the fortified tower and be safe there.

And then I thought of people who, even while facing wicked life-storms, don't freak out. Oh, they feel it. They cry and lament and get angry and are afraid. But in a way more resembling battening down the hatches and moving into the safety of their trust in God's name. They may even play Scrabble.

God's Name, by the way, is His reputation. Who He is as God.
And here I will again quote one of my favourite Steve Bell lines, from his song "Remember Me."

"It's Your reputation that makes us outrageously brave."

So we played Scrabble. Ken won. And the storm abated, the rain stopped, and we came back to go to bed.

It was a pretty cool storm, though.

Did I mention Ken won?

On Not Being Afraid

 

She was there again this morning.
So I immediately suspended my paddle and floated in.

She didn't notice me at first -
probably why I could ease out my camera -
but when she did, she simply froze,
and we just looked at each other for a long time like that,
me floating ever so slowly towards her,
our eyes locked.

For the longest time.
Hushed and holy moment.

Why is this so humbling?
I feel invited into something unusual and privileged.
We are each other's honoured guests,
knowing the moment could end suddenly
so we hold it gently, breathing.

Here's the irony though.
My kayak was floating closer to the shoreline
than I thought she would be able to handle.
Not wanting the moment to end,
I reached ever so slowly for my paddle
and lifted it just so carefully,
thinking I would just back up and give her space.

But that's all it took.
There was a trumpet-snorting sound
and stomping of the feet
and a bolting back into the bush.

She startled me too.

Next time,
if there is one,
I won't do that.

I'll just come in as close as I'm allowed.

"Don't be afraid."

I wish I could have said it to her.
Never in a million years would I cause her harm.
But she doesn't know that.

"Don't be afraid."

How many times does God say that in the Bible?
So many.
Every time there's an encounter.
Every time it looks like there's danger,
which is a lot of the time,
even if there's not.
And I have no excuse.
Because He actually has told me that.
Not to be afraid.

How many holy moments have I missed,
I wonder,
because I bolted?

The Only You the World Has

 

As usual, I am in need of some botanical education here.

These are tiny, spikey blooms that grow impossibly out of the moss-filled crevices just down by our dock. Did a quick internet search, but without any fancy aps or enough plant-science knowledge, haven't found an actual name for this. If you know, please chime in.

What attracts me to these little beauties is their boldness, their clarity, their tenacity, and their resilience. I mean, who grows out of a rock and looks that proud of it? And all while being so very, very small! I didn't include a comparison object in the picture, but those individual blooms are no more than 0.5 cm across.

I find myself encouraged in two measurements.

One is how much I miss if I am too big-sighted or too preoccupied to notice the little things. Perhaps that's obvious enough for me to just leave that there for now.

The other may be more important, only because of our human tendency to believe that bigger is better. We seem to have an almost addictive level of needing more to prove we matter. Our currency might be real estate, or educational degrees, or number of congregants in our church (that's a pastor one), or items in our collection (books don't count), or simply the almighty buck. We tend to want to impress each other as if life was a competition.

But what if it's okay to simply to bloom boldly, regardless of where we're planted or how that might compare with anyone else? What if it's more than just 'okay?' What if it's imperative? What if us blooming exactly where we are, in exactly our proportion, is exactly what is needed?

Once long ago somewhere at a workshop I can't remember the name of or who it was speaking, else I'd give the credit (again, chime in if you know), I heard this statement.

I paraphrase, from memory.

"Do you.

Because if you don't do you, you won't get done.

And the world needs you.

Because you are the only you the world has."

Today seems like a good day to do me. To do you.
Hope you bloom boldly.

Respect

 

There's a downed tree along our route by water to the marina. Obviously this is storm damage.

But it doesn't look like it just broke off. It actually looks twisted.

This is not a small tree. My best boat-distance guess is that I might not be able to get my arms around the width of the trunk - or what's left of it.

It's one thing when the wind is fierce enough to snap a large tree, or even to push it over at the roots. These I've seen too, often enough, after a storm or, like this one, first thing in the season when you get a look at what the winter did.

But what kind of power from what kind of wind at what kind of angle would do this?

And I don't even have any other thoughts about this today except I am again in awe of the power of the natural world.

And realize again how beautiful and fragile and incredible and resilient the created order of life is.
And that it's good to respect our human space in that order.
And to engage with it accordingly.

And to take any lofty edge off of any of this, I guess I could have just as easily posted something similar with a picture of a skunk.

No skunks here yet, fortunately. But it's looking like a calmer, maybe even warmer day. I'm ready to be outside in all the created awesomeness after these past few days of cozy.