How Does Your Garden Grow?

It was Friday night when this whole thing got started. Actually, it was Thursday night. We were leaving the country for two weeks on Saturday, and felt that if my dream of having a garden was going to come true, we'd have to get things planted before we left. So, on Thursday night we built a garden box and bought seeds. On Friday night we filled it with soil and planted 10 different types of vegetables.
I have never planted a garden before. Ever. Once I tried to plant flowers in a flower bed, but they all died. So, all of this is incredibly new to me. And I am fascinated.
The seeds are tiny. Tiny. And it's hard to believe that they will turn into the picture on the envelope. I felt like it was an act of faith--putting these tiny things into the ground, covering them with soil, hoping something comes of it. I suddenly had new insight into the parable of the sower...it really is ridiculous that a farmer would scatter seeds on areas where they won't grow--how wasteful...how scandalously generous.

We left town, hoping our little garden box would be okay with out us.

And we returned to green leaves and shoots standing proudly above the soil. Just like that. Have you ever seen a bean plant grow? Two days ago, there was nothing there, and then, all of the sudden, here is this sprout that has pushed its way up. Beans aren't subtle; they don't gently creep through the soil. No, they burst out of the ground, leaving clumps of broken earth around them.

We might be those odd people the neighbors talk about. When we arrived home from our trip at 1:30 in the morning, we dropped our bags inside and went straight to the backyard to check on our garden. And since then, we've probably checked on it 3-4 times a day.

In gardening, we learn to trust and to let go, to celebrate and to hope. And probably, sometimes, we learn to be disappointed.

Live from New York

Metropass card $20
Tickets to a Broadway show: $130
Dancing to "New York, New York" with a group of nuns and a few kids from a shelter: priceless

Hot dog from a street vendor: $2
Admission to the Metropolitan Museum of Art: $20
Trying on clothes in the 34th Street Macy's while Clinton from "What Not to Wear" is giving fashion advice to the person in the changing room next to you: priceless.

Grateful

I spent last week at a conference at Regent. Marva Dawn, Darrell Johnson, and Bruce Hindmarsh were the speakers. It was such a rich week. The content was abundant--my notes filled pages and pages of my journal. The speakers were passionate and knowledgeable. The worship was like drinking from a deep and refreshing well.

And I was struck by how right it felt to be back there--this is a place and a people who have profoundly shaped me, and it felt so good to be in that space again. I reconnected with people who were part of my journey for those four years.

And I got to spend the entire week with my sister-in-law, who basically rocks. On Saturday morning, she had already left, and I spent some time alone--and I realized that we had basically talked non-stop from the time we both got there until we said goodbye. The last two mornings, we'd bus only the part of the way to Regent, get a coffee (or a tea), and walk through the endowment lands the rest of the way.

I was reminded of my love for Vancouver, with its mountains and water, green trees and flowers, active life styles, ethic food, funky shops and restaurants, produce markets, and the diversity of people. It made coming home a little...well...depressing. But, the grass is beginning to turn green here. And I was able to ride my bike to work today. So I will try to embrace the next few months of sun before darkness and snow cover the city yet again.

What book are you?

Apparently my cinnamon dulce latte order at Starbucks makes my personality type "lame." (see Becca's blog)

Well, at least my personality type as determined by the book quiz has something better to say! I'm Huck Finn...which means that I find the world fascinating, speak with an accent, and love straw hats. I'd say that's not too far off.

To be honest, the first time I took the quiz, it said I was a bit schizophrenic, so I changed an answer...I just can't be locked into one thing!

What book are you?

Morning Conversations

Common morning dialogue in our house:

Me: I had the weirdest dream last night.

Jon: Really?? Oh wait, that happens every night.

Me: No, but this one was really weird...

And then I proceed to tell him the details.

I have a few recurring dreams:

1. Awkward driving dreams: I am driving a car, but something isn't right. Sometimes I am sitting in the backseat, reaching my arms up to the steering wheel. Sometimes I am heading up a hill and am at such a steep incline that I can't see the road--only the sky above me (I had this one last night--and we were on the edge of a mountain, which made it a bit more dangerous).

2. Teeth falling out: One or several of my teeth come loose, just like when I was little. I wiggle it until it comes out...and then I realize that it was one of my permanent teeth. Each time I have this thought, "I've dreamt about this happening so many times, and now it finally happened for real." And I have a sense of dread that I've just lost a tooth.

3. Snakes: Everywhere I look there is a snake, but no one else seems to notice or care. Whoever I am with will walk ahead of me down the sidewalk, but when I try, there are snakes everywhere.

Any interpretations?

Childlike Faith

We stood watching the Main Street Disneyland Parade, where the story book characters came to life on the street. We wanted to see enough of it to feel like we'd seen it and then run to the next ride while the lines were shorter.
A little girl behind us was a much more dedicated fan. She sat quietly on her mom's shoulders, waiting. Floats came and went and not a sound was heard from her. Until two specific floats came into view. First, Alice in Wonderland. And the little girl cried out with all the passion that can be contained in a 6 year old body, "Alicia, Alicia!" (I think she was speaking French...Jon thinks Spanish). It was a desperate cry--a cry that said "if only Alice would look my way, if only she would wave at me, my life would be complete." Once Alice and her friends passed by, our little friend was quiet again...until The Little Mermaid float came by. "Ariel, Ariel!" Again, a desperate, pleading cry.

Not long after that, Jon and I slipped out of the parade crowds to find another ride...Snow White's Scary Adventure...which, by the way, is a little creepy.

Every now and then one of us will call out "Alicia, Alicia" in memory of our parade friend. And when we do, I smile--because it reminds me of her unbridled passion for her heroines, her hope that they might see her, and her belief that if they did, it would make all the difference.

Oh to have that faith.

First and Only Wife

Last night we stumbled across a t.v. show that is, apparently, in its second season. Perhaps you've already seen it. It's called Big Love, and it's the story of a man with three wives.
Two and a half years ago, my college sociology prof wrote on his blog his thoughts about polygamy, arguing that legalizing polygamy would be the big cultural issue of 2020.
Less than three years later, there is already a sit-com that seems to be attempting to normalize polygamy.

I have only watched this show once, so perhaps I shouldn't comment on it. But I'm going to.

They seem to be setting up "good," "normal" polygamy against "bad" "cult-like" polygamy. The people on the show who live in a compound and blindly follow the prophet are portrayed as out of touch with reality, strange, and backwards. The people who live in the suburbs and practice polygamy are just like us--they are caring parents, business people, and engaged citizens. Their kids have ipods and dress like other teenagers. We are supposed to sympathize with this family with many wives, but we are not supposed to sympathize with the polygamists on the compound.

I find the show interesting not just because it seems to be trying to normalize a certain type of polygamy, but also because there are so many relational dynamics portrayed.

I can see reason for practicing polygamy in societies where women are considered less than human--where to be unmarried is to be unable to survive. (I think that might be what was going on in the Old Testament). But I can't see why it would be a good idea in a culture like ours.
The blog post I linked above gives lots of sociological reasons why it's a bad idea.

I tried to imagine being in a polygamous relationship...I decided that I would want to be the first wife. Actually, that's a lie...I want to be the only wife. I don't want to share my husband with someone else. I don't want to have to worry about power dynamics with other women in my own house. I don't want to sleep alone a few nights a week while he's with wife number 2. I don't want to have to find out a few days later something that happened in his life while he was with wife number 3.

Sure, second wife could watch the kids or third wife could make supper when I've run out of time...but even those two things speak of gender roles that Jon and I don't agree with--they assume that the women take care of the kids and the house while the man earns the money. Maybe an egalitarian approach would be to have a big group marriage with lots of husbands and lots of wives. (no thanks)

Maybe in a few years time we will be considered intolerant and close minded if we aren't willing to accept polygamy as a legitimate alternative lifestyle.


I'll stick to the whole one husband, one wife deal, thanks.

Butterflied Books on the Bedside Table

Jon and I disagree about what activities are appropriate at bedtime. In my opinion, reading is the best use of those last few minutes before sleep. In Jon's opinion, turning off the light and going to sleep is the best use of those last few minutes. We have an ongoing debate about how long I can read with the light on while he is trying to fall asleep.

But I have discovered the secret to solving this domestic disagreement: give Jon a book he can't put down. Pretty soon, I am the one turning off the light first.

Right now I have 5 books sitting on my bedside table. 5 books that I have sought out in the past few weeks to be my before bed reading. 4 of these are butterflied; folded open to mark my page.

One is due back at the library in a few days, and I likely won't finish it. It's the one that's not butterflied.

One is a book I've started a few times and have never finished...it's by Louisa May Alcott. I might never finish it, but it's a good one to start when I don't have anything else to read.

One is a book I read in college and loved: "The Memory of Old Jack" by Wendell Berry. It describes places that are close to places I know and people I wish I knew. I like the familiarity of it. Chances are I won't finish it this time...but I will re-read it at some point.

One is "The Preaching Life" by Barbara Brown Taylor. Her words are poetry. I want to both sip them in slowly and drink them down in big gulps. I seem to be sipping more than gulping.

One is "The Poisonwood Bible." It's the one I'm picking up the most and leaving the light on the longest for. Maybe when I'm finished, I'll pass it on to Jon, and it will result in more time to read the other books before he says "is it time to turn off the light yet?"

Deceived

Two tennis rackets are perched by our front door. A set and a half of golf clubs rattle around in the trunk of our car. My road bike, which has lived in our living room all winter, in case I ever had the urge to pedal in place, has been re-released into the wilds of the garage.

Each of these is evidence of the deception we experienced last weekend. A mere 8 days ago we went to an outdoor driving range. 7 days ago, we attempted to play tennis at the courts down the street, but, finding them full, went for the first bike ride of the season in the river valley. I wore shorts and a t-shirt. And I wasn't cold. I believed that winter had finally released her grip on us. I even began to believe that Edmonton isn't that bad, after all. (That very thought ran through my head as we walked to the tennis court).

When I heard we had another cold spell coming, I was quick to defend the weather. The Parable of the Day Laborers came to mind, and I proclaimed that we shouldn't complain about a small dip in temperature--we had, after all, received an unseasonably warm two days--how could we complain about that?

But then the slight dip turned into a nose dive. And I woke this morning to this:

And it's still snowing. Just when I was ready to put away my winter clothes. Sigh. And so I am again hunkered down inside. And Jon is running a 10 mile race...outside. I don't know which one of us feels angrier. I guess now is the time to do all of that cross-country skiing that I neglected for the last 6 months of snow.

Recent Reads

I just finished reading the trendy Christian book "The Shack." Usually I try to either avoid the trends or snatch them up before they become trendy. Or, let's be honest, often I hear about a trend a few years after it's over. But, this time I think I am in the middle of it, since several other people I know are either reading or have just finished reading this book.

My thoughts...I don't want to give too much away for those who haven't read it. It's a beautiful story and a beautiful portrayal of the Trinity. Even as someone who acknowledges in my head that God is neither male nor female, I tend to speak of God as "he." The portrayal of God as neither and both was well done. This book says a lot about forgiveness, judging others, and relationships. I'll write more after I've had more time to reflect on it.

Another book I've recently read is "There Is No Me Without You." This is a wonderful story, filled with heartbreak and love, courage and disappointment. It tells the true story of a woman in Ethiopia who ends up running an orphanage. I say "ends up" because it's not what she intended to do, but as child after child ended up needing her help, she found she couldn't say no. Background information about HIV/AIDS and the political issues that have led to the crisis in Ethiopia are woven throughout the narrative. This is a great book--it might make you want to change the world!

Older?

There aren't really clear lines that we cross from one phase of life into the next. Sure, there are obvious things like getting married or having children. But, there is no clear line to determine when a person crosses from youth to adult. And from young adult to middle aged adult. And so on.

I've often wondered if I will still feel like a kid when I am 60. Because I certainly felt like kid when I turned 30...and in the words of Deana Carter, "I still remember when 30 was old."

But I've had two experiences in the past week that have made me wonder if I might be growing up (or growing older?). The first happened after I got my hair cut. I had a couple of people mistake me for a university student. That is not unusual--I have always been told I look much younger than I am. Normally, this frustrates me--I just want to look my age! I don't want to look like a university student. But last week, when one person said she thought I was a student, my gut level reaction was, "nice." I appreciated it. Strange.

The second experience happened in the mall on Saturday. I was sitting in the food court, watching all of the dynamics of various relationships get played out on several stages. And as I watched a number parents of young children find tables and get their lunch, I thought, "Wow, they look young."

I still most often feel like a kid. Some of that might be the youngest child syndrome. But maybe I'm growing "older" in small ways.

Rediscovering My Voice

In the last 9 days, I've preached the same sermon three times. The first time was for a church that I have never been to before. I preached from a manuscript. I think I was somewhat dry.

The second time, I preached for the church I'm part of. I preached from an outline, and had times for them to break into discussion groups or answer questions throughout the sermon. It was low key, relaxed, conversational.

The third time, I preached for a church I have preached at once before. I preached from an outline and used an ear piece mic and walked around the stage as a I spoke. I should have found myself boring--it was the same stuff I had preached last week. But I found I came alive and I connected with people. This is how I used to preach. But it's been a while. I've gotten so tied to the manuscript, so concerned about saying the exact right words, so comfortable standing safely behind a big podium, that my old enthusiasm and passion seemed to get squelched.

This isn't the case for everyone--I have heard dynamic preachers who use a manuscript and stay behind a podium.

And maybe there's a season for manuscripts and a season for outlines. A season for podiums and a season for walking around. But it sure felt good yesterday to be in that place again. It felt like coming home.

In My Ears

Okay, so I know the big toe has been up here for way too long...finally a new post!
I received an ipod nano for Christmas and have been discovering the world of itunes. I don't actually have much music on my ipod...I'm sure I'll get there eventually...for now, I am enjoying lectures and sermons. Here are a few things I subscribe to (all free)...

1. "Speaking of Faith" is a podcast from American Public Media. In each podcast a different person is interviewed on a certain faith related topic. I find these interviews so engaging--especially the variety of topics covered. I've listened to interviews with Martin Marty about the development of Evangelicalism in the US, Eli Weisel about faith and forgiveness, a scholar about the importance of creeds to our faith, a Christian politician about environmental issues, a person who had been a Muslim extremist, and the first woman to lead the Islamic Society of North America. What I appreciate is that these are intelligent, thoughtful people speaking about their experiences and expertise.

2. NPR...if you live in Canada and miss your NPR fix, itunes can hook you up! I subscribe to two podcasts from NPR: Books and Culture.

3. Various sermons...from 10th Avenue Alliance in Vancouver to the Meeting House to Mars Hill in Michigan.

4. Pray-As-You-Go: These are short, daily podcasts that combine scripture, music, and reflections to get you refocused. I know, it sounds cheesy. I was skeptical. But it's put out by the Jesuits...and I don't think "cheese" when I think Jesuit.

5. Various chapel talks and university lectures: These are from itunesu. Some universities get big names in to speak at chapel...and then put their sermons online. Some universities post special lecture series or even entire classes. I have downloaded classes on C.S. Lewis and the Pauline Epistles that I haven't had the chance to listen to yet.

6. National Geographic Videos: Okay, these are great. I learned, for example, that there are cows that look like body builders. It's the craziest thing--you've got to see these cows. National Geographic comes alive with these videos. Fun, short, and educational.

So...that's what's playing in my ears these days. I just wish I had more listening time.

It's Finally Here

The big toe has been glazed, fired, and brought home! So...now we have our very own big toe candy dish. I know, you're jealous.

Carpool

Here I sit at work...waiting for Jon to come pick me up. He's usually here by now. He's running late.

And it finally dawns on me...I drove today.

What A Wednesday

I woke up tired, had hardly slept. Pushed back the dreams that had taunted me all night. Faced the day. A memorial service I was leading. So many details to think through. So many words to carefully choose. It's noon. People packed in, the service began. Great stories were told. Laughter and tears mingled together. Two hours of sharing memories, expressing lament, professing hope.

Jon woke up tired, had hardly slept. Faced the day. It's noon. An intense job interview, asking hard questions. An hour and a half of questions. Afterwards, time of waiting...but not too long. And the job was offered.

Lunch was skipped by us both.

A celebration dinner. Butter chicken at a favorite Indian restaurant. A long talk about what the future might hold with this new job. A movie at home, snuggled on the couch.

Tired bodies to bed early.

And still I wake up tired today.

Returning Home

We just spent a week in California at a campus ministry conference and having a bit of a vacation. It was a great week of connecting with new friends and old.

In San Diego, we boarded the train for San Juan Capistrano...but not before we (apparently) put our future children's lives at risk. This is the sign that greets visitors to the train station:

After the conference, we went to the happiest place on earth for the first time in our lives. I got to meet the Mouse:

Then we headed to Santa Barbara to meet up with two old friends from two different eras of my life. And we stayed in an amazing bed and breakfast:

After a week of traveling, we headed home to snow (although the weather isn't too bad).

And we discovered shortly after arriving home that a student at my school had died that morning. So now I am planning a memorial service and trying to walk with a grieving community. It's in moments like these, when nothing makes sense and people are hurt and confused and clinging to each other, that I realize the profound purpose in what I do. I don't have many answers. And I've never planned a memorial service before. I don't have the skills or the wisdom of people who have been pastors for many years. I don't pretend to have the right words. But in the midst of my own inadequacy, I have a deep sense that I am where I am supposed to be. And that in my own brokenness, God will work through me.

And so this weekend will be spent planning a memorial service, writing a message for that service, and spending time with students. And with a very real awareness that I am deeply dependant on God for all what I am and all that I do.

Finding a Luck Finder

My friend Sarah (who I haven’t talked to in a couple of years—Sarah, where are you?) introduced me to the term “luck finder.” A luck finder is someone that people are lucky to find, someone that you really want to be with, someone that you feel blessed to know.

I used to express a similar idea by thinking of who I would most want to sit next to at a dinner party. I want to sit next to someone who is engaging and personal, funny and caring—someone who draws me in, someone who lets me share in who they are. This is different than just wanting to sit next to someone who might engage me in interesting dialog—that is good too, but not the same idea.

During my early years at Regent, my friends and I had a lexicon of different types of crushes. The surrogate crush. The professor crush. The hero crush. There were others, which I can’t remember. But the one I’ve absorbed into my vernacular is “the friend crush.” The friend crush occurs when you meet someone and you think, “I just really want to be friends with that person.” This is not some creepy romantic stalker thing. It’s seeing the beauty and depth in someone you don’t know well and wanting to be part of their life.

I met a luck finder the other day, someone I might just want to sit next to at a dinner party. And I think I’ve developed a friend crush.

Like A Radio

The first few notes wrap themselves around me like a familiar, well worn sweater, like a rich aroma that fills every pocket of air. The words come slowly, seductively, and I sigh. These lyrics, this music, touches a place in me that is filled with my deepest longings, my best hopes, and my fullest love. I find that as I listen, I am drawn both into myself and away from myself. Memories flood my mind: late night talks, long drives in the Kentucky hills and the Colorado Rockies, walking to school through the thick forests of the Endowment Lands in Vancouver, and friends--friends who have shared this music with me. And I find a renewed longing for deeper relationships, for meaningful conversation, for others for whom these songs resonate somewhere deep in their souls.
I'm going to go make a cup of hot tea and melt into the music of Over the Rhine.

Lament

Tonight in the theology of worship course, we talked about lament. A timely topic, considering that tomorrow begins the season of Lent.
As someone said tonight in class, lament doesn't sell. It doesn't make people feel good. It's not flashy or high tech. It's not exciting or upbeat.
But it's real. And honest. And intimate.

And it's something that is deeply lacking in many of our contemporary churches. We so often seem to be about the happy, feel good worship songs, and we miss the depth that many of the Psalms embody.

I've learned a few things about lament this year. These aren't my ideas, but things I've gained by reading a few different authors:

Lament makes our praise more genuine.
It helps us to love each other more deeply.
It validates and gives space for the human experience of pain.
It helps us to know God more deeply.

Lament begins with a personal invocation to God and it ends with an orientation to future praise, a vow to trust God.

As we enter Lent, I long for spaces where lament can be expressed in corporate worship. And I sometimes wonder if I am alone in this.

Cold

It was -28 C today...with the windchill it was -33 or something crazy like that. Did you know that when it gets that cold, your automatic garage door won't close? Which is too bad, because the time in life when you really don't want to have to get out of the car to close the garage door is when it's -28. Most of my friends and I are wearing long johns under our clothes. Jon wears long johns, pants, and then ski pants. It's ridiculously cold.

And when someone is mad at you, it feels even colder.

Big Toe

Last semester I began to make a life long dream a reality by taking a pottery course. This semester I signed up for another one and convinced Jon and our friend Lisa to take it with me. Last week the project was to make two small pots and put them together so that they became like an egg with the air trapped inside. From there, you could shape it into something. Many people in the class were making beautiful pieces of fruit. I was making a tea pot. And across the table from me was Jon who was making...what was he making, exactly? I asked him. And he declared, "Actually, this is a right big toe." He turned it around for me to see, and indeed, it was a toe. A big toe. A big toe with a hole under the toenail. A big toe with a hole under the toenail so that you can take a piece of candy. Because it's a candy dish. A big toe candy dish. Because, really, who wouldn't want to take a piece of candy out of something that resembles a toe?

Pics

So, I know these are old news now, but here are the projects I worked on during the Christmas break. I will write something more interesting soon!

Joy

So, I've been putting off updating this thing because I wanted to post a few pictures from Christmas...and I can't find the cables to connect the camera to the computer (that was a lot of "c" words). But if I wait any longer, Christmas will be too far gone to write about.

Here is what I did over Christmas break...

Read 1200 pages (give or take a few).

Knit 1 toque (or hat, if you're in the States).

Made 1 batch of buckeyes.

Ate 1 batch of buckeyes...and pretty much anything else that was nearby.

Made 4 cards.

Slept numerous more hours than usual.

Played 1 game of mini-stick floor hockey.

Spent lots of time with family and still didn't get my fill.

Two highlights...
Jon was playing with our nephews, running through the house. He stopped suddenly and our 3 year old nephew ran straight into him, his nose ramming into Jon's bum...and he got a bloody nose. Who else has a bum that's boney enough to give a poor little kid a bloody nose? It's like hitting a brick wall.

Second highlight...sitting in church the Sunday before Christmas, singing the usual Christmas songs. And all of the sudden the words of Joy to the World hit me, and I found myself choked up. "No more let sin or sorrow reign, nor thorns infest the ground. " What powerful words. What profound words. This is the Story we get to be part of. This is the vision we live in, the future we hope for. This is the longing of our hearts. And it is said in a Christmas song that most of us are so accustomed to singing that we fail to hear it. But singing that song this Christmas was a significant moment of worship for me.

Happy New Year.