The Gift of Family

Firstly for me Christmas is a spiritual holiday, celebrating the birth of Christ. But even as an adult this celebration of my faith is overshadowed by the excitement of waking up Christmas morning to a house full of blessings. First of all I am surrounded by my family. There is no place in the world for me that is as comfortable as my mother's house on Christmas morning with my brother making coffee and his children running circles around mine. My mother, true to character, filled the living room to overflowing with gifts of all shapes and sizes. There are no generic gifts under her tree. She has carefully and thoughtfully planned out Christmas gifts for all of us that I am sure takes her the entire year to wrap! We sit around her table for Christmas breakfast, which is traditionally Eggs Benedict and the room resonates with our laughter. The joy runs so deep.

There were a few years where I felt overwhelmed by this outpouring. When we go home for Christmas we are surrounded by four seperate families, as both James and I come from families of divorce. We travel from household to household over the Christmas holidays while our parents and siblings pour their love onto us. We are surrounded by generous gifts and meals but what strikes me most is how we are surrounded by intimacy. This intimacy of family and friends comes from a deep knowledge and love of one another. That is not to say that our families come free of bumps and bruises. There are some family members I do not know as well as others. There are sometimes gaps in conversation that I wish I knew how to fill. But there is an intimacy that grows from sharing Christmas traditions and it is demonstated in the sharing of meals, the exchange of gifts, the singing of carols and the free flow of conversation. I will gladly travel from household to household over the Christmas holidays to share in this gift of family. It is a gift that I do not want to take for granted.

when you have no words left of your own

The other day I was on the phone with a close friend who has recently moved to Ontario. We had run out of interesting tidbits from our own life but were not ready to hang up the phone and go on with our seperate days. We began reading eachother quotes that we had written on scrap pieces of paper and into our journals, sharing words that had inspired us over the past few weeks. Suddenly my friend began to laugh at the oddity of our conversation. We had just spent atleast 20 minutes in conversation with no words of our own.
But I want to share my favourite quote with you, from the front flap of the book Nothing is Impossible by Christopher Reeves, who recently passed away after years of struggling with paralysis:

"For able bodied people, paralysis is a choice, a choice to live with self doubt and a fear of taking risks -and it is not an acceptable choice!"

I have thought a lot about these words in the past few weeks as I contemplate the choices I have made so far in my life. I wonder how often I have let myself and others down by succumbing to fears that I could have overcome. As I look down at my newborn son my desire is that I can instill in him the ability to take the risks neccessary to fulfill his ambitions. I look at my older boys, who are filled with the excitement and naivity of youth, and I pray that I can teach them to turn their active imaginations and creative talents into achievable goals.
I hope that I can give them the words to pull from when they run out of words of their own. That when they feel paralyzed by fear and self doubt, they can look back on the lessons of their childhood and be propelled forward.

Conversation with a Little Old Lady at the Mall

You just never know what kind of fascinating details people will share with you when you are out with a baby. The other day a little old lady teetered over to me to gaze adoringly at my son, only 4 weeks old at the time. she is oohing and aahing over what an adorable baby I have when she says to me, "What a perfect little present under your tree this year..." (that seemed like a fairly normal little old lady thing to say) and then, as she is turning away she gives me a knowing wink and says, "My momma says I was conceived under the tree!"

Waiting

We are waiting in turns patiently and anxiously for baby to arrive. I have been enjoying the land of the not working but perhaps a bit too lazily. I'm not terribly motivated, though I have read more than I have in years. I have also napped more than I have in years! The trouble with spending too much time at home is that I lose inspiration. I run out of funny stories to tell. I start to take pictures of the way the light falls in rays accross our ceiling. I eat too many mini chocolate bars. I start to long for cable tv.

Overheard

As I'm walking downtown I am sometimes struck by the out-of-context snippets of conversation that I overhear. Yesterday as I was crossing the street I heard one lady say to another lady "Yeah, well to them lamb isn't meat..."

What does that mean? Does she have a pseudo-vegetarian friend who is willing to eat lamb on occasion? Is the lamb-as-meat thing a reference to some sort of religious cleanliness; like how Jewish people cannot eat meat from hoofed creatures? I'd like to know...

I think it would be a lot of fun to go downtown sometime with a pad of paper and write down all the strange pieces of conversations that I overhear and then to come home and weave the words into stories, creating my own context for what these total strangers might have been saying to eachother.

The Doctor's office

Today I'm waiting in the doctor's office and the woman in the next room sounded like she was going into labour! It was quite disconcerting to listen to her yelling "ouch, ouch" over and over and over!!! By the time my doctor comes in to see me I'm a bit freaked out thinking that there is NO WAY I'm going to let her measure MY cervix.

So when I lay down for her to measure my belly and check the heartbeat and I think about what is going to come next I feel like I'm going to throw up right then and there. I had to sit back up and get my bearings. I could tell by my doctor's expression that she thought I might throw up too. Thankfully a glass of water seemed to make me feel better and everything was fine but since then I've been thinking about how scary the whole labour experience is, even while at the same time it is such an incredible thing to go through.

The Most Important Decisions

Today I had an epiphany; one of those rare moments of clarity when the world suddenly makes sense and is put in perspective.

As James and I sat discussing some important decisions on our horizon I took a mental look back on the life choices we have already made; both good and bad. I wondered at what our life would be like now had we chosen different directions at different times in our life. Then it struck me that James' decision yesterday to advise the clerk at the grocery store when she over-changed him by $5 was a more important decision than whether he worked towards one degree or another, whether he took this job or that job, whether we live in a city or a small town; Decisions that we have been faced with over the years.
The small choices we make every day that build and represent our moral fibre do much more to form who we are than the seemingly larger choices of career direction and deciding where to live. There is a quote I read somewhere once that goes "Wherever you go, there you are". This is such a large truth that I don't think I fully comprehended it until now. It doesn't really matter where you go. What really matters is how you behave/react/respond once you get there.

lunching and other stories...

This week I "lunched". Seriously, all I did all week long is meet up with old friends for lunch at various restaurants around the city. I lunched at Med Grill on Monday with Tina and was shocked when the bill for my lunch alone (with tip) came to $24!!!!! And I'd already booked lunch dates for Wednesday and Friday that I guess I could have gotten out but I just didn't want to. I was much more frugal at these lunches which combined still came to less money than my lunch on Monday, and tasted just as good...

I also had a lunch date on Thursday which I did cancel because I woke up that morning feeling extremely grumpy and tired with a sore throat and a bit of a headache. I phoned up my friend who I knew would understand (which she did) hoping to reschedule some time with her next week. After I hung up the phone I opened the fridge to make myself some breakfast (cold cereal and milk sounded just fine and I was feeling lazy) but when I went to pull the milk out it was EMPTY.

The trouble with having pre-adolescent boys in the house is that not only do we go through litres of milk each week but they consistently forget to acknowledge that they have taken the last of it. I often find our milk jug empty in the fridge, which I think they secretly put back empty on purpose because it is so much easier than throwing the bag away which might lead them to realize that the garbage also needs to be taken out, which means voluntary chores, which means ick and avoid-at-all-costs in the eyes of any sane adolescent.

Though I was tired and grumpy I felt like I wasn't going to let the small matter of milk get me down. After all I had the whole day ahead of me and could easily jump in the truck, drive to the store for milk, and while I was at it stop at my favourite coffee bistro for a steaming hot decaf. I even brought my book along just incase I decided to sit on a sunny bench with my coffee and read. Aaaah, what luxury to be unemployed and waiting for baby. I was therefore feeling extremely patient and relaxed when I tried to start the truck.

The key word here is tried because IT DIDN'T START! Of course I panicked. I imagined a $1000 transmission bill or something equally scary. I tried to call James to my rescue but he wasn't at his desk. I reminded myself not to panic and how much easier it would be not to panic if I atleast had a coffee and milk for my cereal. I gave the matter some thought. I tried to phone James 4 more times in a five minute period and then decided to walk to the store. Walking to the store was not bad. I felt slightly invigorated, my sinuses started to clear up, my legs felt strong and I was getting exercise. All good things. By the time I was walking home from the store I felt none of these things. My pelvis was aching terribly. My arms were drooping from the weight of the milk that I kept shifting from arm to arm. My coffee was lukewarm and relatively weak. I was back to being miserable. When I felt like I had reached the end of what I could take, I looked up and saw James driving towards me. It had been nearly two hours since I left the house and by this point I was only five minutes from home but I could not have been happier to see him. In fact, if it did not hurt to jump I would have jumped for joy. He had heard my messages and come home on his lunch break to discover that the battery had died, and not because I had done something stupid like leave the lights on (which is not unheard of) but simply because it was old. James was able to borrow a battery charger from a neighbour. The next day, feeling like a very responsible and take charge kind of person, I went to Canadian Tire to purchase a battery. I walked up to the service desk and asked for a battery for my 1990 Ford Explorer. I felt some of my self-assuredness fade away when the service clerk gave me a quizzical frown and said that there was no such thing!
(oops... how am I supposed to know what I drive? And my last car really was a 1990!!)

finding balance

Reading an issue of "Fit Pregnancy" that a friend gave me recently I was encouraged by a picture of a very relaxed looking mother with four young children looking relatively happy and clean. The quote above the picture says, "Slow down. When you rush, things fall apart. Lower your expectations of what you can do and how fast you can do it, and everyone will be happy."

I feel like my life has slown down to a halt. I am not taking any courses. As of last friday I am no longer working. I am not on any committees and haven't volunteered myself for any activities. I have slowed my life down considerably in preparation for this baby on the way and find the pace both exhilerating and frightening. For the first time in years I have the ability to create my own list of daily expectations. Yet without outside forces pushing me forward I find myself at a standstill. Part of this is simply being very huge and pregnant and not having much energy for anything but I am also afraid.

I am afraid that I will spend the next five years at a standstill. I am afraid that any attempt to accomplish more than a burp and a walk around the block will leave me feeling fatiqued and resentful. I want to epitomize the relaxed confidence I see in the woman pictured in my "Fit Pregnancy" magazine but I am afraid that I am not the kind of person who easily finds balance. I am either running full steam ahead with projects on the go and expectations to meet, or I am asleep on the couch with dirty dishes piling undone on the countertop.

The Christian Bubble

In church this past Sunday the pastor spoke about the relevance of the Christian faith outside the Christian faith. He was referring to someone he knew who had grown up in a Christian home, attended Christian school her whole life and was hit with culture shock when she began attending a public university. All of a sudden the language of her faith that had seemed so relevant and so "right" became confused in the sea of new faces and ideals. It is not that it stopped being right but that she no longer knew how to share it with others without putting them off. How does one define their beliefs outside of the Christian bubble? How does a Christian represent Christ's love in society without confusing the relationship of faith with the ideals of the Christian culture, without coming across as judgemental?

I just finished reading a book called "The Jesus I Never Knew" by Philip Yancey which posed some of the same questions. Philip Yancey pointed out in his book that the people Jesus associated himself with in the New Testament were not the "righteous" religious people of that time, but rather the down and out; tax collectors, prostitutes, lepors... Yet somehow as Christians in the 21st century we allow our desire to follow God's laws to become a sort of self-righteous hypocricy, not much unlike the Pharisees of Jesus' day. It isn't intended. I think that the self righteousness comes from pride. It is human nature to want to compare ourselves to others, especially if we think we are the ones on the right track. It is hypocricy because of course no one can ever be always on the right track.

I want desperately to find that middle ground, to be the kind of Christian that reflects God's love without coming across as superior for knowing that love. I want desperately to be the kind of Christian who knows instinctively what to say to put others at ease, to let them know that I have no judgement, no preconcieved notions of who they are or should be. After all we were each created as unique individuals. Who am I to tell anyone how to live out their faith? How to live out their lives?

What I sometimes find myself doing instead is waffling in my faith. I sit in the uncomfortable seat of belief mired with self doubt. I find myself attempting to convince others and myself that I am not "that" kind of Christian. Whatever "that" kind of Christian is I don't know. What I wish I could do is define the difference between life in Christ (which is vital to our relationship with Him) and life in Christianity (which has become something of a middle class picture of manufactured urban bliss). I think the only way to do that is to dive into God's word and attempt to discover who He really is, rather than who people say we should be if we claim to know Him.

Garage Band

Tonight I came home to find the boys excited about their first attempt at a garage band with some of the kids around the neighbourhood. When we were up island for thanksgiving my father gave the boys an old drum set he'd acquired from a family friend. They want to call themselves "Elastic Rabbit" which I think is a pretty cool name. They won't tell me how they thought it up though. Should I be worried? Matthew and a girl named Rachel play the electric guitar. Cody is on bass and Jonathan is the drummer. They haven't agreed yet on the lead singer, though Matthew is pining for the spot. He figures since it's his garage he should be the leader. I remember when I was about 11 and had a band with a bunch of kids around the neighbourhood. We called ourselves The Heartbreakers and we had white T Shirts with Heartbreaker in Red across our chests. Our lead songs were "Nobody" by Sylvia, and of course "Heartbreaker" by Pat Benatar. I quit the band after I sat on my microphone and broke it.

My Big Belly

On thanksgiving weekend we headed up island for a feast of turkey with all the trimmings. James and I made a detour at one of my favourite beaches where I stood in the ocean up to my ankles with my jeans rolled up below my knees, my shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal my burgeoning belly. There was rain, of course. There is always rain in October. The first set of pictures was the easiest because I was standing on a small sandy section of the beach. When I tried to move up the beach to get some of the wave action that was happening against the rocks I ended up with a wave crashing into my butt, soaking my jeans and just about knocking me over. (It was a small wave but at 36 weeks pregnant I am fairly easy to knock over!)T