Our New Addition

In an earlier post, I wrote about our car situation, how we've driven our 1985 volvo station wagon into the ground. It has been a long year of waiting and searching and saving up money to buy a car that would be safe and reliable but would also fit our outdoor-loving and large-family aspiring selves.

This is a fantastic automobile! It's a Toyota Landcruiser PRADO. It's diesel, 4-wheel drive, has adjustable shocks/under clearance for rocky terrain, fog lights, a roof rack with clamps to hold skis and big enough to carry Diesel tanks for long off-roading trips. And the clincher for us: it seats 8! Although we are a family of 4 right now, we would love to add to this number in the future. And we are excited that this can accomodate that desire. ALSO, we can carpool with friends and family more easily. I find it funny when I want to head to the beach with a friend and we end up driving the trek in our separate cars. Now we can fit, kids and all.

As far as I know, PRADOs are not available in the states. They are made and sold in Japan and Canadians have found a way to import and resell them in Canada. This makes for some interesting aspects. All imports are "right-hand drive" and the instructions on the mirror, glovebox and control panel are in Japanese. It trips other drivers out to see the steering wheel on the opposite side and we get a lot of "double takes." But I love the right-hand drive! I can sense that I am more conscientious with my driving, because it feels so different. The new perspective heightens my awareness.

A great website to check out is www.japanoid.com . It's full of pictures of funky-looking Japanese imports that are now available in Canada.

Come visit us and we'll take you for a ride--

Growth Toward Green

For a few months now, I have considered "compacting" along with a growing number of families who desire a simple, "calm-pact" life. The Compact has several aims more or less prioritized below:

"To go beyond recycling in trying to counteract the negative global environmental and socioeconomic impacts of disposable consumer culture and to support local businesses, farms, etc. -- a step that, we hope, inherits the revolutionary impulse of the Mayflower Compact.

To reduce clutter and waste in our homes (as in trash Compact-or).

To simplify our lives (as in Calm-pact)."

There are many ways to do this and I thought I would list a few of the things I am doing and would like to WORK on doing more consistently.

***I use cloth diapers & cloth wipes. I (in the summer/spring) hang them outdoors to dry. During the winter, I try to hang them indoors near the wood stove on a drying rack.

***I use cloth or reusable bags when I grocery shop.

***We heat our home with a wood stove instead of electric heat. When we need to use electric heat, we turn down the thermostats at night.

***I sometimes (would like to more often) cook and boil water on our wood-burning stove.

***I often bring a coffee thermos or mug when I go out for coffee or try to avoid a "to-go" cup by relaxing and enjoying my brew in a cafe mug.

*** I buy many things bulk and store them in large glass jars at home: peanut butter, oats, flour, rice, nuts, honey, syrup, baking supplies, dried fruit, beans, pasta...

*** I buy very little *new*. I have a running list of "needs" and some "wants" in my purse and I peruse local thrift shops and consignment stores once a week. Besides food, I find MOST
everything in great condition at used-stores for a fraction of the cost and waste. And I have a
blast! It's a treasure hunt everytime. I have learned it is easy to still over-buy in thrift stores,
so I set a limit on the amount I budget.

*** My husband and I read (and own) a fantastic book called Clean House, Clean Planet:Clean your House for Pennies a Day, the safe, non-toxic way. by Karen Logan. We are in the process of changing all of our cleaners to homemade, non-toxic combinations. The book is full of simple recipes for great-smelling products that clean just as well, if not better.

*** We have grown a decent-sized garden for the past 3 years. We would like to do it entirely organic but in the past have done about 80% organic.

*** I'd like to get a baby seat for my bike and bike around town more often.

*** I try to buy organic or at least locally grown. We are at about 80% organic. There is a great link to "the dirty dozen" that I found through a blog I enjoy. Reading this list has encouraged me to *always* buy organic for certain things.

This is a major focus in my life right now. I will revisit this topic often. In the meantime, I will share what I am learning and would love comments about tips and topics along these lines. Feel free to comment, in fact, please do!

(photo: www.flickr.com)

Discipline

My husband and I have worked into our family routine a monthly day of solitude for one another. The first Saturday of the month, I enjoy a mother's sabbath during which I spend the day alone, doing whatever will bring me rest and refreshment for the weeks ahead. And on the third Saturday of the month, my husband is free to do the same with a father's sabbath. This month for his day, he spent 8 hours at an urban retreat center. And for my day, I enjoyed journaling and sipping a frothy latte at a local coffee shop for the morning, a drive across the valley singing to Tori Amos at the top of my lungs and a leisurely peruse of my favorite thrift shops for the afternoon. We both returned home from our solitude with renewed vigour. The parent at home likewise enjoyed a special unstructured day with the kids.

While I was at the coffee shop, I settled in beside a wall hanging of the Desiderata, meaning "things to be desired (Latin)". One of my favorite lines in this reflection is: "Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. " On many levels, this sums up my present focus. There are many areas of our life where we are stiving for wholesome (self) discipline and in the midst of the striving, we want to be gentle, to hold the changes with nurturing hands, knowing that small choices toward change will require larger choices toward change down the road.

In mid- January, my husband transitioned from a stressful, and largely unfulfilling 9-5 job to start a business from home. We have spent the last month working together to establish new patterns for our days together. He has an office downstairs he does most of his work from. And he takes 3 breaks a day, lingering to wrestle with the kids in the few minutes between.

With him at home, I feel more "at work" at home and find I am more efficient with my time. His need for consistent breaks (and FOOD) creates a rhythm for my day. And since we share a car, and he no longer needs it to commute, I have a more organized week of small errands rather than the previous "one-day-a-week-BLITZ" we were used to.

Besides the daily chores that keeps our household running, I have tried to work in one "deep organization" task each day. Today I re-organized the tupperware drawer and threw out a few kid's books that are ripped up or unexciting. Each time I do the laundry, I reorganize the clothes that the kids have grown out of and I either put them in my "give" box or fold them away into the appropriate bin of sizes in our downstairs storage room.

These are the small bricks that comprise the building of our "wholesome discipline" in this season of life.

(photo: www.flickr.com)

Beloved Dust

And You As Well Must Die, Beloved Dust

And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead
Than the first leaf that fell,—this wonder fled.
Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost.
Nor shall my love avail you in your hour.
In spite of all my love, you will arise
Upon that day and wander down the air
Obscurely as the unattended flower,
It mattering not how beautiful you were,
Or how beloved above all else that dies.

Edna St. Vincent Millay-- Second April 1921

On January 16th, my Grandmother passed away quietly in the early hours of morning. My uncle had spoken with her just before 5 and when he returned at 7, she was gone. Her body was still warm.

The morning she passed away, my young son awoke at 5 to nurse. He normally sleeps until just past 7, but that morning, he awoke early. I was mostly awake, drifting between sleep and wakefulness between the hours of 5 and 7 and my grandmother was heavy on my mind. I knew she was very ill, as I had heard her diagnosis of lung cancer was terminal. But I thought we had more time, that she would fight it the same way she fought everything in her life. The reality of an inoperable tumour and a possible spot on her kidney became a battle she could not fight.

She lived 86 full years of life. She was a southern "belle" with a southern drawl. She cooked a feast every meal, drank fine wine, sweet tea, black coffee and eggnog with rum and bourbon. She loved opera, cross word puzzles, jeopordy, Christmas, and read two books a week, even up to the time of her death. She truly was the matriach of the family and filled a room, even a building at times with her voice and her presence. Her opinionated stance on politics and history was fear-inducing and I always felt I needed to have my notes ready anytime I decided to debate her. In my uncle's words "we were all terrified of her", especially of her intelligence.

I flew to Arizona the morning of the 18th to be with my family and to help with funeral preparations. It was a heavy and sorrow-filled few days with deep layers of grief. Crisis magnifies what is already present in a family. In certain arenas, deep love and bondedness grew and expanded with the loss. And in others, cold isolation and disconnectedness became more evident than before. While new levels of relationship formed, new hurts were inflicted, further complicating the complexity of our human relations, of our family dynamics between drastically different individuals.

I carry within me vivid experiences from those few short days. Losing a Grandparent is not only the end of a person's life, but the end of a generation. And I felt a poignant sadness that I still struggle to put my finger on. I still hunger to hear her voice share stories from her experiences but I have to put that desire to rest and be content with anecdotal snippets from others.

Edna St. Vincent Millay was my Grandmother's favorite poet. So, it felt appropriate to read this poem as part of the funeral ceremony. I was amazed to make it through without faltering. I have never been one who is able to continue speaking once I begin to cry. I was thankful for the chance to be there and to carry these words in my heart.

Proceed with Confidence

This morning, as I ruffled myself awake and slinked from our toasty-warm, down comforter-covered bed, I smelled snow. I opened the front door with a quick inhale as a blast of frigid air stung my chapped lips and sleepy eyes. I was wearing my favorite winter pajamas (NOT my husband's favorite): a full length pair of grey, long underwear, complete with a trap door out back. But even fully covered, my whole body felt the chill in an instant.

After a long drink of water, I shivered into my favorite workout clothes and braved the fresh powder. The drive in was fine; no slipping, sliding or swerving. But as I turned my nose toward home I felt a slight flutter of nervousness as I gazed up the steep hills I would need to conquer. Our town is very hilly and we live on the northeast hill at the base of an even higher hill.

I decided to just go for it. I gunned it toward the bottom so that I could gain enough speed to keep my momentum and hopefully make it to the crest of the hill. I made it. As another incline loomed up before me, I gunned it again and kept my hands steady on the wheel.

It was an exhilirating experience, and reminded me of many things in my life where I have to choose to proceed with confidence and swift precision, despite my fear.

I remember a while back, my sister-in-law and I were making candles together. We had melted a large chunk of wax in a medium saucepan and once it was liquid, we had to pour it into another smaller glass container. My sister-in-law said something like: "pour quickly and with confidence" and it worked. If I slowed down and grew afraid that I would spill, it drizzled down the side and all over my stovetop, an annoying thing when it's wax. But if I tipped it with one determined movement, it filled the glass without a single lost drop.

An English professor from University used to say: "Carry on, bravely." And again, this is a reminder to keep going, one foot in front of the other, with confidence. I am thankful today for this reminder to MOVE and act, despite and TO SPITE, natural fear.

(photo: courtesy of Flickr)

An artist to admire

Yesterday as I perused my hotmail inbox, I came across an update from Quinlan Road, the community and website of Loreena Mckennitt. My children were asleep and most of my quiet, during-naptime household duties were complete, so I settled in with a steaming mug of "women's liberty" herbal tea and caught up on an old friend. Now, it's only in my dreams that I know Loreena as a friend, but somehow the way she writes and the music she records draws me into a sacred space around her where I feel like I am on a leisurely walk with her, along the celtic countryside.

I was introduced to her music during my first year of highschool. My good friend Jason lived on his own in an old fixer-upper in the downtown district of Tucson. His parents owned the house but agreed to let him live rent free in exchange for his help with renovations and his willingness to take on at least two roommates.

One of his roommates was a girl into goth-style everything who listened to Nine Inch Nails REALLY loudly, chose to paint her room black and covered her windows in tin foil to eradicate the chance of natural light gleaming its way in.

His other roommate was a stocky, gangster-looking African American guy named Lindsey. The name didn't fit his appearance and neither did his taste in music. I expected heavy hip-hop and rap beats to pound from behind his door. But one day while I was waiting for Jason to get home, Lindsey and I hung out and I discovered that the top shelf of his CD collection was filled with Loreena Mckennit albums. She was his favorite artist. He suddenly came alive as he noticed my interest and he began to play me his favorite songs. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of her music and began a small collection of my own.

I admire Loreena Mckennit for many reasons. She is a deeply compassionate and open individual with an insatiable interest and curiosity in cultural roots and traditions. She has traveled widely and has loyal friends around the globe. Each album has been for her both a physical and spiritual journey into a vast array of cultures, textures of food, and nuances of sound. She reads a great deal for each album and processes her experience through the hovering luxuriousness of her harp-playing and the brave passion of her voice. Recording is a global journey as she revisits each country in her mind and generously draws the listener to travel alongside her.

Loreena grew up in rural Manitoba and is most "comfortable on a farm, or in an informal gathering of friends." She is involved environmentally and politically and makes a point to stay connected to her community. In her personal write-up, she writes, "Each spring, I carve out time to plant my garden in order to keep some remnants of an intimate relationship with food, the land and the seasons and every autumn, I set aside time to celebrate the harvest at Thanksgiving." Integration and groundedness is important to her.

She has a list of "compass points" that she revisits often during times of decision or redirection. And over the years, I myself have revisited these principles and have felt encouraged to live more honestly and abundantly alongside them.

**Be compassionate and never forget how to love.
**Think inclusively.
**Reclaim noble values such as truth, honesty, honour, courage.
**Respect one's elders and look to what they have to teach you.
**Be empathetic.
**Look after the less fortunate in society.
**Promote and protect diversity.
**Respect the gifts of the natural world.
**Set your goals high and take pride in what you do.
**Cherish and look after your body, and, as the ancient
**Greeks believed, your mind will serve you better.
**Put back into the community as there have been those before you have done the same and you are reaping what they sowed.
**Participate in and protect democracy, it does not thrive as a spectator sport.
**Undertake due diligence in everything.
**Seek balance and space, and solitude.
**Don't be afraid to feel passionate about something.
**Learn to be an advocate and an ambassador for good.
**Be mindful of your limitations.
**Indulge and nurture your curiosity as it will keep you vital.
**Take charge of your life and don't fall into the pit of entitlement.
**Assume nothing and take nothing for granted.
**Things are not necessarily what they seem.

Her most recent album "An Ancient Muse" took her "in search of the Celts’ easternmost paths, from the plains of Mongolia to the kingdom of King Midas and the Byzantine Empire." It is another intricately woven musical masterpiece that draws me into unique stories of human experience. I look forward to incorporating these new rhythms into my understanding of the world in which we live. If you have never experienced her music, I recommend starting with "The Book of Secrets." You won't be dissapointed.

Body for Life

My husband and I decided to accept the Body-for-LIFE challenge on December 1st. We are near to completing our first month and I feel safely in stride and ready to post about our experience thus far. For those not familiar with Body-for-LIFE, feel free to check out the website here for more information.

The author Bill Phillips has developed an organized, detailed fitness/nutrition guide broken down into specific workouts/meals over a 12- week "challenge" period. My husband and I have both read his book and refer to the website almost daily. We appreciate the simplicity of the plan: eat more often (small, nutritious portions) and exercise daily. He encourages 6 small meals a day with portions no bigger than the palm of your hand. At each of the 6 meals, you should have a balance of protein, healthy (low glycemic index) carb, and fruit or veggie. We work out 6 days a week, resting on the 7th and alternating between aerobic and weight training days.

I am feeling really good this week. The first three weeks left me sore as anything and more tired than before. My body ached all over after every workout. But this week, the 4th, I feel stronger, more alert, energetic and with a more elevated mood. I have gone down two jean sizes and tonight when I stepped on the scale at the gym, I was 6 pounds lighter. The fun thing about the program is that it is about converting fat to muscle. It's not based around weight loss so much as healthy body mass. Muscle takes up less room than fat, but is heavier. So even at the beginning when I had gone down a jean size (in inches) I hadn't lost more than 2 pounds. It's strange how the body works. I recently learned that it takes 3 calories to feed fat, but 25 to feed muscle. So just by replacing fat with muscle, my body will use more energy and burn more fat. I also just learned that women tend to see the most dramatic results around week 7. All the ground-laying, muscle-building work starts to pay off and maintainable body changes are more evident.

It definitely helps to be working at this challenge together. We have had a couple of "I just don't wanna" days. And it's been great to have close-proximity moral support and to laugh at eachother when we hobble around with sore muscles after a workout. So far, we haven't missed a day yet!

Afterglow

The bustling feverishness of preparation is over. And I am resting here, in my living room with the tree still lit, the candles flickering, coffee with a hint of eggnog. Christmas day itself has passed, but the spirit and warmth of love-tinged memories lingers in my home and heart today.

We felt blessed to have so much family near this Christmas. My husband's parents and brothers live in our town (his parents just across the street and one brother in our suite) and his Grandmother (from California) and Aunt ( From Florida) flew up to spend the week.

Old traditions were honoured and new traditions were made. Our Tomale Feast and church pageant on Christmas Eve, early morning present-opening, brunch, more present-opening, hearty meal on Christmas Day and a cuddly family viewing of "It's a Wonderful Life."

We learned a lesson this year: make every effort to STILL have our 3 year old nap, even on Christmas! We decided to let her live it up and skip a nap and we paid royally for this mistake when evening hit!

Besides the deafening protests of a preschooler who thinks she should stay up even though she's stumbling and going cross-eyed from tiredness, it was a peaceful day.

And we are thankful for many things. Thankful to have family nearby. Thankful to be together and to enjoy the light and innocence of our children's enjoyment. Thankful for the chance to celebrate Advent, to welcome the Light of Christ once again.

Homemade Christmas

Villagers all, this
frosty tide,
Let your doors
swing open wide,
Though wind
may follow, and
snow beside,
Yet draw us in
by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours
in the morning.

(Kenneth Grahame)

We are trying to make most of our Christmas gifts this year. In the past, we have given a mix of homemade and thriftily bought gifts, and in someways that is what we are doing again, with the balance tipped slightly more toward the "homemade" side. We are seeking to simplify our life and stretch our financial resources, and we see this (carving out time to make instead of buy) as a step toward choosing a parred-down lifestyle. It is also an opportunity to walk more slowly and to allow time to imagine and create. I have realized that it takes more time and planning to make homemade gifts; it's not just a matter of scurrying to the store and slapping money on a counter. It is a struggle to balance my time between projects and focused interaction with my children. I try to include my Pre-schooler in what I am doing, which is why I ended up with sparkly glue and purple stamped snowflakes on my dining room table yesterday. Yes, clean-up takes a little longer when she is involved...

I finally made an Advent wreath this year. We have mostly focused on Sunday readings with a few special prayers sprinkled in. It has been significant for our daughter to have the consistency of lighting each purple candle as we draw nearer to lighting the pink and white ones. The cycle of Liturgical tradition has always been a great solace to me. My faith has felt uplifted and carried along with the rhythm of the church calendar. When I don't have my own words or expressions, I can rest in what spiritual men and women I admire have prayed and written, and I can settle into the truth until it seeps more completely into my internal landscape. And this year, the candle lightings and Advent readings have been an element of this "seeping" for me.

This past Sunday, the third in Advent, I went to an open house at The Mark Centre, an urban retreat centre that invites individuals or groups to come aside from the busyness of life to enjoy solitude in a beautiful setting. The couple who envisioned and created it have become a blessing in my life and it was a joy for me to see them again and celebrate Advent at their table.

With the help of a passionate group of leaders, musicians and artists, they transformed the 4-story chalet into various "stations" with each room crafted into a palette for creative spiritual experience. For example, each room has a symbolic name: extravagance, abundance, and solitude, to name a few. We were encouraged to walk slowly and in silence through each room.

Extravagance had a gorgeous nativity set up, small white candles flickering, richly-coloured artwork on the walls and a woman sitting in a chair reading the Christmas story aloud.

Abundance was warmly lit with different-sized candles. A sheepskin-covered kneeling pillow rested in front of a small table that held a framed poem and portion of scripture .

Each room created a different atmosphere in which to reflect on aspects of God's character, enfleshed in the Christ of the Nativity. After I walked through each room, I ended at the Rooftop Chapel and listened to Cathy Hardy and Karin Dart play songs from their Taize CD called "Rest".
I was comforted by the care with which homemade Chai, Christmas cookies, hazelnut cake and spiced cider were given with ease and sincerity. It was exactly what I needed to open my awareness of Advent as I cling to the wonder of the Christchild. I am grateful for the gift of that night.

Winter

December is upon us in all it's glory. We have experienced a drastic change in weather over the last week.

My last post was about our eventful "vacation" in Arizona, and the rays of sun we soaked in over the course of 8 days. The final day of our visit, my Dad treated us all(my family, my brother, his wife and 4 kids) to a day at the Desert Museum. I was sweating in a tank top, jeans and sandals and I consumed more prickly pear cactus iced tea than any woman in her right mind should, especially a postpartum woman with a weak bladder. eek!

The next day when we de-planed in Seattle, freezing snow-tipped air whipped our hair in frenetic motion. We were suddenly very cold. Frozen white flurries continued during our entire drive North, across the border, and until we reached the front door of our welcoming home. It definitely felt like Christmas was coming. Our little girl had fallen asleep in the car, but I knew she would be excited when she saw the snow the next day. We settled the kids and then lit a fire in the wood stove and bundled up for the night.

When we awoke the next morning, the world outside our window was a blinding white. Nearly a foot of snow lay silently on the remnants of our garden, the rails of our rickety fence, the edges of our roof and gutters. It was breathtaking. The roads were silent, schools were cancelled and no one seemed on their way to work.

That first week back, my husband stayed home two days out of necessity. It simply wasn't safe to venture out without 4 wheel drive. The first two days were too cold to play in the snow and the powdery texture was too cold and dry to stick together for a snowman. By the third day, we were able to brave the chill. We dressed warmly, built snowmen and enjoyed an intense snowball fight with my husband and I, Alley and uncle Jack.

The pipes in our garage, connected to the laundry, froze solid and we were without a washing machine for a few days. I was grateful to my mother-in-law for allowing me to cart over a few buckets of smelly cloth diapers to be washed as we worked at de-thawing.

It felt bizzare to go straight from sun to snow, as though we slept through autumn. But the drama of the weather change has propelled us into the festive spirit of Christmas, of beginning to remember, of celebrating Advent.

I hope each of you in your corners have a chance to be quiet, to sit still, and to remember Bethlehem during this season of Christmas.