thankful

Saturday morning, I heard the sad news that my friend Christina had passed away.  I spent the day rather dishevelled and in a fog.  

Can I tell you a little about Christina?  I know she'd love that her picture is on a blog, and her stories are being told.  She loved being remembered, noticed, appreciated.  

She loved being loved!

I met her in 2009, shortly after our family moved to Flatlanders Inn. She came for our Wednesday potluck. After we'd eaten she asked when the women's prayer group was meeting.  Turns out she thought it was Friday and was looking for another event in the church, she hadn't even meant to come to Flats.... but then she kept coming, every Wednesday night for the next two years.  She'd bring food to share, sometimes chicken nuggets or instant potatoes, but she always wanted to contribute!

Both Christina and I had mothers who had struggled with mental illness and who had passed away many years ago. We discovered this story-in-common early in our friendship.  We hardly ever discussed it, but every so often if the topic of care or childhood would come up, she'd say something about the kind of mutual understanding we shared. Trust grew between us, in the way that it does, winding and testing.  Getting stronger with shared experience, shared laughter, shared hearts, shared hurts. 

 Christina was an artist, and she had this deep longing to communicate brokenness AND hope in every piece she created.
When our artspace opened up, she was became a regular attender at the art drop in. She loved Jesus.  When she was feeling strong, she wanted to pray for you, looking for ways to encourage and bless everyone she met.  When she was feeling low, she asked people to pray for her often.

Christina loved Christian trinkets. She couldn't resist buying a t-shirt or hat that had words or images about love or peace. Her jewellery collection was extensive and included lots of crosses.  If you got curious about the stuff she loved, you'd learn that she just wanted to communicate the love and hope of God to everyone.  She had a mixed up relationship with 'stuff', and it consumed a lot of her energy. ... and often the energy of her friends!   Flatlanders experimented with storing some of her treasures - but in the end, we sent them back to her place because of the tension it brought into our relationship.  

Some of my favourite Christina memories; 

...having coffee in portage place
...sorting through her stuff and hanging clothes on very specific hangers, in very specific order, in a very specific way :)
...rummaging through her purse for some lost item
...the time she made a huge pot of soup for flatlanders and everyone loved it

...being shown a new photo or artistic piece and hearing the story of how it came to be

... the way she would choose an outfit and accessories, usually including a hat!

...seeing the abandon she danced with every sunday in church, even when her arm was injured

I'm pretty sure our last phone conversation was a prayer.  I have guilt over the phone calls I didn't answer and the messages I didn't return, but I know that our friendship was real and mutual - we were honest with each other.  'Be strong' was a phrase said between us often.

Christina gave me a celtic cross from her jewellery collection.  When she was alive, I wore it because I was grateful that she was in my life.  Now that she's gone, I'll wear it in her memory and in thankfulness for all that I learned from her. 

Christina taught me about beauty, about suffering, about joy, about intimacy, about vulnerability, about prayer, about Jesus.

She taught me about Jesus because I saw him in her all the time.

Be at peace, dear Christina, you will be missed by so many.
We love you.

                    ...until we meet again...

the paths we take

How often I found where I should be going only by setting out for somewhere else.     B.Fuller

I recently asked a talented friend of mine if she'd consider doing a series of images (any media or canvas) for me to hang in my office. I'd been keeping a list of ideas on a very precious pink sticky note for the last year or so.  The ideas are relevant to both counselor and client; metaphors or symbols that might speak to anyone who happens to be sitting in that office. She enthusiastically agreed, even though I can only afford to pay her a pittance.  The first image was done last week.  

Apparently, as soon as she knew 'path' was one of the ideas, this whole painting sprung immediately into her mind. 

This week, I've been contemplating the path our life has taken over the past few years. Walking around in the peaceful, sleepy village of Caronport reminds me of our first year in another Saskatchewan town a few years ago. At first I couldn't put my finger on the sense of familiarity I kept noticing every time I was outside, but then I remembered that these feelings of safety, peace, and hope were with me in our first year in Hepburn.

Tonight I walked past the student housing on campus and chuckled when I remembered our tour here before we decided to move to Flatlanders.  Our kids didn't want to live in such a small house... They ended up living in a much, much smaller space!
   I remembered my son's face lighting up when he saw the bus the high school students travel around in for sports events ... I think he'd have done well here.               
        But our path took us back to Winnipeg, back to the North End we thought we'd left behind two years earlier. 

In class, I'm thinking about thesis and research, and being encouraged to narrow, ever narrow the topic.  It's so hard, because there are so many things I want to study, so many possibilities for future research and community work. I reflect on how much has changed since I sent in that tentative application for a Masters program, and wonder where this path is leading .... 

                                                              For who is God except the Lord?

      Who but our God is a solid rock?

 God is my strong fortress,

      and he makes my way perfect.

 He makes me as surefooted as a deer,

      enabling me to stand on mountain heights.

 He trains my hands for battle;

      he strengthens my arm to draw a bronze bow.

 You have made a wide path for my feet

      to keep them from slipping.

2 Sam 22, NLT

mini workout

Originally found here

I found this image on pinterest a while back, along with some others like it, and they've inspired me.  Today was the perfect opportunity to experiment.  I've been hiding away in a dorm room for 38 hours, working on finishing up assignments and reading for my class this week. 

Yesterday, I managed to take a couple of walks to clear my head.  But today, I didn't even get dressed.  (yes, I am still in my pj's at 9pm!)  There were a couple of times when the words on the page or screen started to swim around before my eyes, I needed to change the pace at least a little. Enter this little mini workout!  It takes about 10 minutes.  Clears your head, restores your energy, and keeps the blahs away.

 I'm going to keep trying to do it at least twice per day while I'm at school (this coming week). Anyone gonna try it with me? Aldra, I've read your blog - I'm looking at you.  Comment below if you wanna give it a go, let me know what you think. 

PS: I have another goal - REAL pushups.  I have always done the modified ones (also called 'girl' pushups). Anyone want to join me on that challenge too?

Anyway

from http://ptskjohnson.blogspot.com

I love these words from Mother Theresa.  

I needed to be reminded of them today.  

Maybe you did too?

recommends

been such a great summer, thought I'd jot down a few favorite things we've seen and done this year ...   enjoy!

We had planned a nice dinner out while on holidays, but then, as is often the case while away, plans changed.  So, the following weekend we were back in Winnipeg and went to The Current at the Forks.  Dinner was really good, then we shared a chocolate mousse-brownie dessert made with Callebaut Dark Chocolate.  It was all so, so nice.  We are not in the habit of going out for expensive meals, so this was a rare treat.  It didn't hurt that it was a beautiful summer night at the Forks, and that we were on foot.  If you haven't walked around downtown, the Exchange, or the Forks this summer, I hope you get a chance soon!

I read Michener's ALASKA over the course of a couple of weeks - including two solid days when I was sick.  I'm such a fan of Michener's writing -   he's such a thorough researcher.  The way he ties things together, weaving the details from 1000 years ago into the present reveals such a talent for storytelling. 868 pages though - not for the easily distracted.   There were so many different perspectives of Aboriginal contact with Russians and Americans.  I really appreciated the care taken to show the difference between diverse clans and groups.  In particular, the Aleutian Natives are characterized as a peace loving, spiritual, reflective people.  Here's part of the story of one Aleut 'conversion' attempt -

 'Gravely, the shaman place Cidaq on a stool and took a position facing her; then, as if he were summarizing his entire life, he began speaking: 'young woman, have you not seen the Russian Christianity?  Has it done anything for our people?  Has it brought us the happiness they promise? Has it brought food (back to our island, after the merciless hunting and senseless killing of our food supply)? Do they love us as their Book says they should?  Do they respect us? Do they allow us entrance into their places? Have they given us any new freedoms, or even preserved the ones we had built for ourselves? Is there anything ... any one thing you can think of ... any good thing their God has given us? And, is there any good thing which we already had which they have not taken away?'"  

This particular plotline goes on to tell about Cidaq's long journey to reconcile the beliefs of her people and her childhood to the 'new way' brought by the Russian colonizers. Another 'contact' story is about sailors taken in and cared for by a small village.  Exposed to the Natives traditions and way of life, the sailors embrace new perspectives about them, genuinely SEEING them as people, not savages.  I'm sure there were many stories like this in the history of our continent - there just weren't ENOUGH of them.

We spent a couple of near Melville, Sk.  A good part of one of our days was at the Motherwell Homestead, near Abernethy, Sk. Even if you don't live in SK, the Qu'appelle Valley is gorgeous and this National Park Site is worth the drive.  The Motherwell family was important in early Saskatchewan History.  The house and barn were built of stone that took over 8 years to collect from the surrounding countryside.  The family had come from Ontario and brought some revolutionary ideas to prairie farming.  Mr. Motherwell's second wife was a teacher in the local residential school, where she apparently opposed the mandate of complete assimilation.  She allowed children to speak in their own languages, and tried to respect their history.  She was known as a 'difficult and strong minded woman' - I wished there were more of her history available!

We watched the Beatrix Potter biography, with Renee Zellweger.  What a lovely, sweet story.  Without giving away too much of the story, (because you should watch it if you haven't!) - I loved seeing the way that Beatrix grieved.  It seems rare to me to see such deep emotion in a film, expressed so humanly.  (maybe thats because my favorite genre is fluffy romantic comedies, watched purely for entertainment and escapism?)  Beatrix was a feisty and eccentric woman, and she became the best selling children's author of all time.  She had imagination, confidence, perseverance, and she wasn't flattened by rejection or ridicule. I was surprised that I remembered the names of several of her characters.... I think I love Jemima Puddle Duck best, but maybe its just because of her fun name.  Here's a quote from the movie, when Beatrix meets her soon to be best friend, Millie;

"I have decided that you and I are going to be friends. Norman tells me that you are unmarried, as am I, and that you're not unpleased about it... as am I.  I warn you, I am prepared to like you very, very much, and I plan to enjoy each others company quite a lot!"  

I'm sure it was just as risky to say such things in Beatrix's day as it is in ours, and I am always drawn to those who have the confidence to be honest and vulnerable.

Without meaning to do it, I've talked about three strong and unique women in this post.... maybe I should also recommend that you have a peek at my women and strength board on pinterest :)

HAAALLLOOOOOO

We have an empty building in our parking lot.  We once thought it'd be renovated it like  the one we live in has been renovated.  I called it a 'container for dreams' - an empty, unused, huge building has so much potential!  But a few months ago, it was decided that the building needed to come down.  It's been slated for demolition any time before winter for the last few months.

Beside the building - the yellow warehouse its called - was well used shortcut to Main Street.  Not only was it a short cut, it was a bit of a hang out space. (or a sleeping place if you're homeless)  Activities back there could be a little sketchy.  Sometimes, it was an innocent drinking party or some guys cutting the insulation off their copper wire before bringing it in to the scrap metal dealer. Other times, there'd be someone relieving themselves or couples having a good time - with hardly an clothes on.   I only had to 'walk in' on a couple of very bizarre sights back there before I developed the habit of saying 'HAALLOOOO' nice and loud when I entered from either direction.  Better if people know you're nearby, I decided.  What I wasn't prepared to do was stop using the short cut.  I wasn't crazy about my kids using it, though.

Local newscasts in our city have all been reporting the suspicious death - now called a homicide - of a 24 year old woman named April Hornbrook.   Her body was found in the area that houses our short cut to Main St. - beside the yellow warehouse, basically in our back yard. Any local news carrier has articles about the death, and CTV has Andy's TV interview in our memorial garden posted right now.

At our house meeting today, we opened up the discussion to see how our community is dealing with this happening right under our noses.   We wanted to create a space for processing and responding to this tragedy together.  It was a bit of a crazy weekend, investigators asking all of us what we'd seen, police tape all over the place, tv cameras poking into people's faces after church on Sunday - not a run of the mill weekend, even for us.  First on our minds are thoughts and prayers for April's family.  Twice today, we've gathered in small groups just to sit and remember this girl, to pray for her family, and to ask that God would help her family find a measure of peace and closure.  We've prayed for our neighborhood more than usual, because this crime was so very 'near'.  We've prayed for justice, mercy, healing, and grace.   Processing together is helpful, especially toward our desire to avoid becoming desensitized when there is a lot of crime in our area.

Mostly though, we have no idea how to collectively or individually respond well. What are you supposed to do when a murder victim is found in your backyard?  What is the best way we could be of help those who are grieving?  Is there a way we can care for our community in this time of sadness?  We'd love it if you'd join us in praying for April's family, for safety and healing in our neighborhood, and for us as we seek to respond well.

shame

ever feel ashamed of yourself?  I'm not talking about guilt here, not some fleeting ooops-I-wish-I-hadn't-done/said-that feeling.  I'm talking about shame - the deeper feeling that peeks out every so often and says accusing things like: 'you're not valid. you're a pretender. maybe you shouldn't have been confident.... where do you get the idea that you have a right to contribute? I'm not going to let you forget where you've come from, or that you're a poor excuse for a _______  .'

photography found at: http://www.orkut.com.br/Mai

A couple of weeks ago, I had an experience that was causing me to want to curl up and not be seen.  I was wishing I could hide inside my own skin.  The memory of it would come into my mind and I'd have to suppress the desire to run away, to go find some covers to hide under.  As if by running, I could hide from my own thoughts.


When I get into this space, I inevitably feel like the people around me don't have any idea what I'm experiencing.  And that they can see right into me. They've got their acts together, they wouldn't have anything to do with what I'm wincing at the mere thought of.


So, before our family holiday, I called up a friend (at 10pm!) and asked if she had any wine and a few minutes for me. She graciously said yes (to both requests!), and even thanked me for coming over! Then I  told one of my sisters my secret.  (I could only tell one of them,  it was all I could manage.)  My husband also knew.  And I gave myself space to cry - several times, because I've learned that in some mysterious and beautiful way,  crying untangles the knot that lives in my stomach in times of grief.  Both my friend and my sister told me that they understood it was a huge deal for me, this thing I wanted to hide from.  They both shared similar experiences. And they both loved me anyway. They both found ways to say that their perception of me was not altered, and they both found gentle ways to encourage me to let it go.


It wasn't long before the memory didn't have the same power over me.  I can think about it now and not want to hide or even wince.  Someone told me once (a therapist someone) that I showed signs of having been shamed - often - in my life.  She was right.  But, you know, those shaming patterns don't have to live forever.  Over the years, I've learned how to practice vulnerability in some pretty freeing ways.  And, I've been acting - with a great many stumbles - on some decisions about what and who will have power over me.  


The stuff thats happened over the course of my life - for a long time I wanted to bury it.  And finally, I just accepted that it was what it was.  And that I was going to keep having to cope with it; in new ways as I changed and as the years progressed. It wasn't healthy to believe that there would come a day when it would be behind me forever. I had to let go of the 'I've dealt with it' mentality and replace it with a 'I'm dealing with it' perspective. 


I like the way Petersen talks about living creatively together in Galatians 6; 'Live creatively, friends. If someone falls into sin, forgivingly restore him, saving your critical comments for yourself. You might be needing forgiveness before the day's out. Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their burdens, and so complete Christ's law. If you think you are too good for that, you are badly deceived.'


This post was inspired by a site I found by reading the very worst missionary's post about Second Chances.  Check out this site - dedicated to gracious living and being people of many chances.
thanks for reading! don't be shy to leave comments.