eat, drink, and be merry

One of the guys in Jon's department is having a big Halloween costume party this weekend. I'll finally get to meet some of the interesting guys I often hear about. Jon is going as a boxer who's seen better days (though you should see the other guy!). I'm going as a medieval maiden. I dare not say I'm a medieval barmaid lest I get conned into fetching drinks! I'm really looking forward to it, except for the fact that I just starting cutting back on my calories and eating super clean. Parties = drinking = losing all willpower over food. My son says "eat, drink, and be merry". I know he's right, but this is only day 4 of my weight loss endeavor and I'm doing really well. Crap!

This is one of my favourite somber autumn songs by Hawksley Workman:

a pointless post but i just gotta

it's a blustery day today. even pooh says so.

rain

it's grey and rainy today.

grrrrr

The Song of Deborah
by Donna Smallenberg
Yesterday the kids and I got into the truck to head out to school. I uncharacteristically flipped through some radio stations. Driving is usually my thinking and pondering time so I tend to like it quiet, plus it's wayyyy too early in the morning for unnecessary noise. We were picking up an American Christian station. A man and a woman were bragging on the station and how wonderful it was. The man said "yes, and the housewife can listen to it at home, and the business man at work". Well I flipped. I ranted to the kids how sexist that was, and my 15 year old son said it sounded like something out of the 50's. What about men who stay home to be full time dads, what about women who govern cities or countries?

This past Sunday in church while playing with the pages of my little bible I noticed the last chapter of Proverbs which describes a noble wife:

She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.

She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.

She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.

Back in biblical days, women were in great positions of leadership, they were entrepreneurs. They did not have bake sales and little fund raisers when they wanted to contribute to society.

I don't know what else to say. All I know is this mindset makes me supremely cranky!

care

"The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say, "What are you going through?" ~ Simone Weil

Every time you get up
And get back in the race
One more small piece of you
Starts to fall into place
- Rascal Flatts

TGIF

I love fridays. It means drinking without worrying about having to get up early the next morning, watching shows or a movie, reeeeelaxing. The house is freshly clean cuz my pal Kelly came over for some knitting, chatting, tea sipping, and sweet eating. I have supper all done, I'm talking chicken, potatoes, and veggies. An avid cook I am not. I can cook, but in my fantasy world, I'd have a cook that appears out of no where around 2pm, makes a gourmet dinner, a zero calorie all natural gourmet dessert, cleans up, and then vapourizes into thin air only to repeat the process all over again the following day.

Tomorrow night we eat like kings at Wendy and Andy's artsy house, drink once again, and laugh lots. We haven't done that in ages, I wonder if we'll recognize each other?!

It's sunny this evening and the woods are calling Jon, so we're about to take off (after snagging me a coffee at Irving). I'll knit on the way there and enjoy the old highway where the river, trees and farm land never fail to delight me.

"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower." ~ Albert Camus

just be

Tiësto - Just Be - The top video clips of the week are here

frost

frost on the leaves
frost on me
out comes the sun
frost undone

the things that count

Now, dear, it isn't the bold things,
Great deeds of valour and might,
That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day.
But it is the doing of old things,
Small acts that are just and right;
And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say;
In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, and in keeping at work when you want to play -
Dear, those are the things that count.

And, dear, it isn't the new ways
Where the wonder-seekers crowd
That lead us into the land of content, or help us to find our own.
But it is keeping to true ways,
Though the music is not so loud,
And there may be many a shadowed spot where we journey along alone;
In flinging a prayer at the face of fear, and in changing into a song a groan -
Dear, these are the things that count.

My dear, it isn't the loud part
Of creeds that are pleasing to God,
Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a hymn, or a jubilant shout or song.
But it is the beautiful proud part
Of walking with feet faith-shod;
And in loving, loving, loving through all, no matter how things go wrong;
In trusting ever, though dark the day, and in keeping your hope when the way seems long -
Dear, these are the things that count.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

life

Jon is at the gym and I would have gone with him except I'm sooooo tired. I find sunday mornings emotionally draining, but not in a bad way (not too much any way). Too many varying emotions packed into a couple hours is exhausting. Even so, I wouldn't trade it for sleeping in.

I don't look forward to having to get up early tomorrow to drive the kids to school, but I'm glad I get to have a good chunk of the day to myself, to knit, and process my thoughts in quietness. I've had a humbling week and it's had a ripple effect on me that I'm sure will last for quite awhile.

This week I must resist, as best I can, working on personal knitting and get my butt moving on my knitting-to-generate-an-income projects. Being a girl, it's hard to not touch the vest I'm working on, or the new cardi I want to start.

Supper is made. Baked salmon, and herbed green beans, which taste nothing like the ones Jon brought home from a restaurant the other night. Why??!!

“When one's expectations are reduced to zero, one really appreciates everything one does have.” ~ Stephen Hawking (English Physicist, b.1942)

insight

On the river of life, as I float along,
I see with the spirit's sight
That many a nauseous weed of wrong
Has root in a seed of right.
For evil is good that has gone astray,
And sorrow is only blindness,
And the world is always under the sway
Of a changeless law of kindness.

The commonest error a truth can make
Is shouting its sweet voice hoarse,
And sin is only the soul's mistake
In misdirecting its force.
And love, the fairest of all fair things
That ever to man descended,
Grows rank with nettles and poisonous things
Unless it is watched and tended.

There could not be anything better than this
Old world in the way it began;
And though some matters have gone amiss
From the great original plan,
And however dark the skies may appear,
And however souls may blunder,
I tell you it all will work out clear,
For good lies over and under.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Poems of Sentiment

tears out of nowhere

After clicking the play button in Napster to listen to an album yesterday afternoon, and beginning to prepare a Thanksgiving dessert of Deep Dish Pumpkin Pie, I was hit with the urge to cry. I didn’t know why. There I was, cutting butter into a mixture of flour and sugar and holding back tears. I eventually couldn’t see and thought it ridiculous to try to bake and cry at the same time. I popped everything into the fridge, went into my bathroom, and sat on the toilet to cry. But why was I crying?? I'm not the kind of girl who cries easily.

I thought about our financial struggles and started to bawl and pray about that. Was there anything else? I thought about my place at church and again my gut clenched and more tears came. Where do I fit in? I prayed without words, but instead with tears and random thoughts. Old feelings surfaced, of rejection, skepticism, abandonment, cold-shoulders, being seemingly invisible, walking fragile and left alone, presumed taken care of but not, conditional love….more gut wrenching tears. That season is more or less over, but the hurt and disappointment remains like a residue, and more so than I realized. It makes me a little leery, and distrustful. I want healing from that. I don’t think I’ll be as naïve as I was before, but I don’t want to be neutralized and rendered useless. I don’t want to be robbed of the ability to love people. I don’t want to always feel unsafe and guarded, not even a little bit. Even so, I know I need time to heal, and I want genuine healing. Feelings swept under the rug cause future bumps to stumble over.

God has been so sweet and loving to me over the past year and a half, through every step of my fumbling through the fog. He’s given me everything I desperately needed but was lacking. I have a home where I feel respected, cherished, valued, and protected. I have newly blossoming friendships that I didn’t have before. I have received more strength and healing than I deserve, it truly amazes me, and yet I realize that I still carry so much pain. I want to be everything I was made to be. I don’t want to be a diminished version of myself. I want to live fully, love fully, forgive fully, and continue to grow in maturity.

If you ever see someone who is obviously hurting and fragile, but has retreated out of the need for self-preservation and protection, can I offer you a suggestion? Please don’t wait for them to ask for help, for a shoulder to cry on, or a listening ear. That’s a cop-out. I’m sorry, but it really is. Slip them a note. It could be a long note of encouragement, or it could be an “I’m thinking about you”. You would not believe how much that helps. It gives you hope. There were times that Jon and I cried out to God wondering if anyone cared at all. The few times someone would reach out to us, it helped us to survive and not give up on people.

In the end, I am so much happier and content and in so many ways. Life is really really good. Even so, one would be a fool not to want to be free from past hurts and disappointments. I don't want to walk with a limp in any way, if I don't have to. I want to be whole, so I can be wholly alive.

This is the song that had just started playing as I was hit with the spontaneous tears. The lyrics were oddly appropriate.

Garments of Praise - Robin Mark (album: “Celtic Worship: Live from Ireland“)

Put on the garments of praise
For the spirit of heaviness
Let the oil of gladness flow down from your throne

Put on the garments of praise
For the spirit of heaviness
Your joy is my strength alone, my strength alone

Make these broken weary bones
Rise to dance again
Wet this dry and thirsty land with a river
Lord our eyes are fixed on you
And we are waiting
For your garment of praise
As we praise your name

we choose love, we choose light

The Submarines - You Me and the Bourgeoisie


Plastic Bottles
Imported Water
Cars we drive wherever we want to
Clothes we buy it's sweatshop labor
Drugs from corporate enablers
We're not living the Good life
Unless we're fighting the Good fight
You and Me just trying to get it right

Love can free us from all excess
From our deepest debts
Cause when our hearts are full we need much less