Don't Give Up

"You Are Loved (Don't Give Up)"

Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world
When your heart's heavy I...
I will lift it for you

Don't give up
Because you want to be heard
If silence keeps you I...
I will break it for you
Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you
Everybody wants to be loved

Don't give up
Because you are loved
Don't give up
It's just the hurt that you hide
When you're lost inside I...
I will be there to find you

Don't give up
Because you want to burn bright
If darkness blinds you I...
I will shine to guide you
Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you
Everybody wants to be loved

Don't give up
Because you are loved
You are loved

Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world
Don't give up
Every one needs to be heard
You are loved

(Josh Groban)

The Colourful Bunch

For Valentine's Day this year, we decided to host a "colours party." A co-worker of mine came up with the idea (I think...there may be a social tradition I don't know about) and hosted one during New Year's Eve. Ever since hearing the idea, I have wanted to do one with our homegroup crew. So, we did it. And everyone really go into it!

I drew colours from a hat and assigned them to each guest. They came dressed entirely in their colour and also brought food to share in their colour. It was really fun to see the array of colour around the table. We had lime pudding, yellow peppers, purple olives and grapes, popcorn, blueberry yogurt, green pasta with pesto sauce and other spunky delicacies.

My sister-in-law owns a game called "True Colours" that we played. It's basically a "getting to know the real you" sort of game and it went over really well.

Toward the end of the night, we took turns answering questions in a personality test called the "animal in you". If you've never hearde of it, take a look at the website and see what animal you are most like. I find it insightful and fun to discuss as a group.

A Miracle Everytime

Since Mid-December, I have been picking up night shifts on the maternity ward. We've decided to plan for one 12-hour shift a week. And to be honest, one is all I can handle while balancing my time with the kids and running my home business. I know I am not very old, but night shifts hit me differently than they used to, and it takes a couple of days to feel fully myself again.

All that aside, I love being back in the maternity-world of birthing and babies. Every birth is an exquisite miracle, again and again. I never get bored.

On my first shift back, we had a birth that started in tragedy. An older women, in her 40's, called in with some concerns. She had woken up to use the washroom and suddenly saw blood. Her due date was just around the corner, and she was starting to have mild contractions. Our triage nurse asked her to come in right away so we could make sure everything was alright.

About 15 minutes later, we received a phone call from an ambulance attendant. He reported that a car had slid on the icy-snowy roads and into the ditch. The woman inside was pregnant and afraid and said she was on the way to the hospital. She couldn't feel her baby moving and was in turmoil over the accident.

They brought her in immediately and she was sobbing. I received her into room 4 and quickly moved her into a bed. She kept asking over and over, "please, my baby. I need to hear my baby!" I grabbed the external fetal monitor to find a heartbeat. My hands were shaking and my heart felt twisted into a knot of grief. Tears were running down her face, her husband's face, MY face. It was emotional to say the least.

Suddenly, we heard it. The clear, cheerful tap of her baby's heart. She was perfectly fine, safe and secure inside the cozy walls of the womb, tucked away and kept from harm. The relief was audible as we let out pent-up collective breath and gave thanks in our hearts. And it turned out the blood was merely pre-labour preparation, and she was well into her 1st stage of childbirth, rounding the corner toward the moment when she would hold her baby in her arms.

In that moment of waiting, I remember thinking about the poignant promise held in the hope for a baby. There is nothing like it. The fresh spark that a new life is coming, a clean-slated soul, wide open to take in the world, to reveal once again, the grace-filled beginning of humanity. It is the first step to adulthood. The innocent other and sun-side of the cycle, the illumination of the shadow.

I read a quote once, "babies are such a nice way to start people". I love that. And I find that being in close contact with the "start" of us, keeps me hopeful about humanity. Somehow I am given these glimpses into how a crusty-cranky old man starts out. He is, inside it all, a suckling pinkness, soft and round, and the absolute fulfillment of someone's desire.

We are knit in love, strand by strand, in the pulsing warmth of womb. And then we enter, close-lidded and dramatic, in a heaving push of relief. There are no ordinary births. Just miracles everytime.

The Task at Hand

Good 'ole curly-eyed Hooley's is a pub in Ottawa. And I've got to tell you that I felt like this Hooley-bird looks at around 9 am this morning. There are few things that drive me to want a stiff drink. And cleaning the oven is one of them. I can't stand cleaning a nasty, baked-on-food sorta oven. My eyes glaze over and I start to twitch slightly at the thought.

I have procrastinated since Christmas. Can you believe it? I baked the turkey this year, and decided to do it in a shallow lasagna pan with tin foil over the bird. Let me just say that I should invest in a bonafide roaster for next year.

By the time Christmas dinner rolled around, we were rolling in a smoke-filled cavern that used to be my kitchen. The pan drippings dripped right down and out of my oven, into the compartment beneath, creating a serious fire hazard.

I cleaned up the bulk of the compartment drippings.
But until this morning, I hadn't touched the poor oven. I've been baking muffins in my toaster oven, for goodness sake! Just to avoid the task.

So, this morning, I asked myself why I was procratinating. "Self", I said, "why the fuss? What's the big deal?" And I realized that it's not the dirty oven that galls me. It's the nasty oven cleaner I have used in the past that makes me gag and feel I have 90-year-old smoker's lungs with one inhalation. And so, me, myself and I, looked for an alternative.

I pulled out my new favorite (well, for the last two years) book on healthy household cleaning. It's called Clean House, Clean Planet. And I discovered that all I needed was baking soda, salt and hot water. In fact, it's a recipe called the "sleep it off" oven cleaning solution. It's a mixture of 1/4 cup salt and 3/4 cup baking soda, mixed into a paste with hot water.

Ideally, you slather on the paste at night, sleep, and then awake and start scrubbing. The baking soda acts as a solvent overnight and loosens the caked-on gunk. To scrape, I used a scouring pad, lots of paper towels and some steel wool.

And my oven has never looked better. And to be honest, it took no more than 15 minutes of good hardy scrubbing. All that procrastination for 15 minutes of work!

As I scrubbed, I started thinking about how easy it is to let things in life bubble over and gunk up. A negative attitude, thoughtless words, unrealistic expectations for myself or others, lack of joy or hope, can create a mess. The mess starts to rise and bubble over. And even a small amount, over time, accumulates into an overwhelming task of cleaning.

I can't tell you how good it felt to clean that oven to a sparkling newness. It became a tangible reminder to me that it is often the simplest things, that are right before me, that clean a mess.

It is the everyday baking soda and salt of right relationships, keeping short accounts, hugs and "i love yous" every morning and every night (and lotsa times in between), quiet times of recentering and prayers, apologizing for swift and hurtful words, bad attitudes.

It is the simple paper towels like beans and rice and home-baked bisquits. And a glass of red wine with my man, after the kids have nodded to sleep. These are the moments of saying "yes" to authentic and meaningful life and relationships, in the midst of stress and struggle. The moments we take to breathe in deeply, the all-encompassing love of God that surrounds us at every turn.

I am thankful for this morning, for the silent scrubbing that became a sort of spiritual redemption. I could feel God's love, cleaning what is caked in my own heart, as I settled in with the task at hand.

Exploring Heaven

Alley: "Mama, where is Annie's dog Jack? Where do dogs go when they die like Jack died?"

Mama: "Well, I believe that God has a special heaven for dogs, where they can be well cared for and at peace. What do you believe?"

Alley: "That's just what I think, too, Mama. Because dogs are the best. And God loves them so much. And God made them, so He wants them to be with him in heaven. And what about Smokey Bear? Is he in heaven, too? Cuz he died too and God loves Smokey Bear."

Mama: "Yes, there's a good chance Smokey Bear is right where Jack is."

**fast forward a few WEEKS**

On Tuesday, we were driving into Abbotsford for our MOPS group. On the way, we picked up an older friend named Rosina who helps with the childcare. While in the car, Alley started asking questions about her kitty cat, her 4-year-old granddaughter, what flowers she will plant in her garden this Spring.

All of a sudden she asked, "Rosina? Where is your husband?" Rosina replied that he had "passed on" a long time ago. Alley's eyes became huge and round. "You mean he died?!" And with a smile spreading slowly over her face, she said " that means he is in heaven with Jack and Smokey Bear!"

And yesterday, along this theme of death and heaven, Alley asked "Mama, when I go to heaven, can I open my eyes?"

I replied "Yes! You can open your eyes! And what do you think you will see?"

"Oh Mama! I will see God's eyes and nose! Can you and Daddy and Solomon open your eyes too?"

When I replied "yes", she begged me to call Bry on my cell phone to make sure he would open his eyes. When I put the phone down, she asked "Did he say Yes, Mama? Did he? Did he?!"

I have thought about this a few times since. It is so beautiful to me. Almost heartbreaking. And I realize that her childlike heart is able to grasp the hope of heaven. There is no hope in dying, if I don't believe I will have a chance to open my eyes on the other side. What do I hope to see?

This beautiful moment with Alethea (my child of truth) has carried me this week, as I go about the dailyness.

Something Else

I am glad to say that I am back on my feet. The haze of tonsillitis lifted on Saturday and I began to eat, to hug my kids, to be part of the family unit again. I tell you, I was on another planet for four days straight. whew! Let's just say that I am certainly grateful for antibiotics. I tend away from them, since we are such an overmedicated world right now. And in the hospital, there is no end to the hubbub about "super bugs" from "over use of antibiotics." But when you need them, YOU NEED THEM. yep. And I am glad glad for them.

Enough about that.

I was going through some old letters today. And I came across a beautiful poem from a dear and beautiful friend. It is called A Child is Something Else Again, and is written by an Israeli poet named Yehuda Amichai.

**A child is something else again. Wakes up

in the afternoon and in an instant he's full of words,

in an instant he's humming, in an instant warm,

instant light, instant darkness.

A child is Job. They've already placed their bets on him

but he doesn't know it. He scratches his body

for pleasure. Nothing hurts yet.

They're training him to be polite Job,

to say "Thank you" when the Lord has given

to say "You're Welcome" when the Lord has taken away.

A child is vengeance.

A child is a missile into the coming generations.

I launched him: I'm still trembling.

A child is something else again: on a rainy springday

glimpsing the Garden of Eden through the fence,

kissing him in his sleep,

hearing footsteps in the wet pine needles.

A child delivers you from death.

Child, Garden, Rain, Fate.**

And one more from a favorite, ee cummings:

--how fortunate are you and i,

whose home is timelessness: we who have wandered down

from fragrant mountains of eternal now

to frolic in such mysteries as birth

and death a day (or maybe even less).

I am here, grateful for the chance to "frolic in such mysteries" and to press in, knowing there is more. Abundance. It is the New Year once again

Under the Weather with Beautiful Films

This is a picture of my very cozy, especially-nice-when-I'm-sick slippers.

On New Year's Eve, I came down with something harsh. I was driving home after my second 12-hour shift at the maternity unit, and I suddenly felt feverish and really dizzy. We were scheduled to dress up for a party that night, but when I got home, I mumbled something about needing to stay back, and I crawled into bed.

The next day was even worse. I had the chills, a pounding headache, a really bad sore throat and a rattly, tight chest and hacky cough. What a mess! I laid in bed almost the entire day.

And on January 2nd, when I felt even worse, I pulled myself into see my doctor and was given the diagnosis of rip-roaring Tonsillitis and Sinusitis. Whew!

I have now been on Biaxin for two days and feel a slight improvement. I was lying in bed today, feeling very sick and sorry for myself. And I started to wonder about the term "under the weather." And it suddenly felt like a fitting thing to say. Especially as I gazed out at the heavy, grey winter sky. I DID feel "under the weather" in my spirit, just plain blah and depressed.

I don't want this post to be depressing, though. My intent is to talk about three beautiful films that we have watched while I am "under the weather".

The Black Stallion

Once

A River Runs Through It

I have seen A River Runs Through It before, and I absolutely love it. Even watching it for the 3rd time was just as powerful for me. And it's one of my husband's favorites, so it was fun to watch it with him.

But the other two suprised me with beauty. My husband bought The Black Stallion for my daughter after Christmas. And I figured it would be more geared toward children. I found it meaningfully multi-layered and soul-filled, with a great deal of depth. And I loved the artistry between the young boy and the Stallion.

One scene in particular is astounding in it's grace and gentleness . They are alone on a beach, and the boy wants nothing more than to ride the stallion. He lures the horse into the waves, until they are both swimming, and then mounts him while they are weightless. The stallion surges forward out of the waves and onto the sand. The young boy hangs onto his wild mane and rides bareback along the shore. Breathtaking.

And Once is a beautiful, foreign film that takes place in Dublin. It is the story of two friends who meet, and help one another find their purpose in life. It is poignant and heartbreaking. Especially for anyone who loves to travel, it is a journey into another parallel place in time. And the soundtrack! Gorgeous.

So, I suppose being sick isn't ALL bad. Just kinda bad. sniffle.

I'll give an updated report when I am above the weather!

Christmas Events

We enjoyed a full and joyous Christmas season as a family. Alley was an angel in one Christmas pageant and a star in another. At the Christmas Eve pageant, where she played a star, she held up a "birthday card for Jesus" at the end. She was instructed to hold it open for all to see. When the moment came, without even thinking of what she was supposed to do, she showed it first to baby Jesus and then to the audience. It was a heartwarming moment for all.

We started a few new family traditions. On each Sunday during Advent, we joined friends for a meal, either at our place or theirs. And on Christmas Eve, we pulled our mattresses and a crib out to the living room and slept under the tree. It was so fun to fall asleep in one room together and to wake up together with the kids in their cozy pajamas. We each opened one gift on Christmas Eve and stockings early on Christmas morning. At 10, we walked across the street to my in-laws home for a brunch and the rest of the present-opening.

During the afternoon, we relaxed and watched "It's a Wonderful Life" and then traipsed back across the street for Christmas dinner at our home. It was a beautiful day as a family.

New Years was a different story! Soul-baby got the stomach flu and was going with gusto from both ends. And I came down with Tonsillitis and Sinusitis and have been in bed, flat-out-cold, for two days. What a way to start the year! But, I'm determined not to let it get me down, and Bry has helped by HELPING an incredible amount around the house and with the kids. And my mother-in-law made us dinner tonight. So, all in all, no complaints. Just a pounding head and throbbing throat and some whopping antibiotics to take on the 'morrow.

Winter Memories

We have been enjoying a new winter tradition this year: iceskating! The local rec centre has a "loonie" (one dollar, for the non-Canadian readers) parent-and-tot skate on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings from 9:45-10:45.

We go on Monday mornings and finish with a little treat from the vending machine and a race down the hallway to the parking lot. Alley wins everytime, since I have to carry skating gear while pushing Soul-baby in the stroller! We have loved this new winter part of our life.

The first day, I wasn't sure how it would work out with both kids. I was planning to watch from the sidelines as Alley braved the ice. But as I observed other families on the ice, I realized I could safely take Soul-baby along in the stroller, as long as he had a helmet.

I am proud of our Alley's courage to try something new. Even during her first morning on the ice, she pushed off from the wall without hesitation, and determinedly learned how to balance. She used the walker for our first few times and braved a few falls.

And a couple of weeks ago, she announced that she wanted to skate "on her own", without the walker. She is improving every week and enjoys the other kids who venture out on Mondays. I see her carefully watching other skaters more skilled than herself. She learns from them, often challenging herself to try new moves and spins.

She wants to start learning to play hockey! We cringe (slightly) at this new interest, especially since the gear is so incredibly expensive to buy!! But, we'll take it one day at a time, and I'll keep my eye open for the odd piece of equipment at the local MCC and Value Village. Afterall, that's where we found all our iceskating gear.

Advent and Regaining Balance

As the new year draws in, I feel coaxed to reflect, and renew. Our Advent this year has felt like a mixture of sand and water. Buckets of water flow through, from the endless supply of ocean waves, drenching our family with joy and goodness in this season. Some splashes also absorb into pockets of melancholy and damp darkness as the days grow shorter and shorter.

On the way to church Sunday, we marveled at the sun just peeking above the mountains at 10:15 am. Some mornings, the sky lightens at 11am. And nearing 3pm, it dips its head again for rest.

These dark days have a double affect on me. In one sense, they draw me to nestle and curl and sip tea in quietness (in between the general mayheim of a family day!)

In another sense, they terribly depress and de-energize me, contributing to the general stresses of the day, and making them feel insurmountable.

And so, the weeks of Advent have been a time of expectation, of waiting for that which is liftable, to be lifted. The services of Christmas bring me hope and lift my winter spirits. My soul looks forward to the bright tinkling of Christmas glasses and strings of warm white lights around a family feast table.

This month has held many things: Christmas tree cutting and decorating, outdoor-light-stringing, car trouble, snowstorms, Advent dinners with friends and family, the beginning of a home-based business (more on that later), iceskating at the rec centre, the transition back to maternity nursing (one shift/week), health challenges in our family, a complete diet change, and the realization that some things are more important than others.

I have felt some imbalance this month, as I stand (and teeter) beneath the larger-than-normal flow of ocean water. But this morning feels like a shift toward firmer footing. I am thankful for this moment to reconnect in this space, to sip jasmine green tea and to visit some of the deeper currents of our month.

I want to acknowledge two blogs that have brought me much comfort and inspiration over the month:

**Holy Experience.

**Soulemama

Please do visit them when you have a chance.

Just Delicate Needles

It's so delicate, the light.

And there's so little of it.

The dark is huge.

Just delicate needles,

the light, in an endless night.

And it has such a long way to go through such desolate space.

So let's be gentle with it. Cherish it.

So it will come again in the morning.

We hope.

--Rolf Jacobsen

Translated by Robert Hedin

(and borrowed from Soulemama)