Meet Little Bear.........

Today, I went to Urban Barn, HomeSense and Costco, and came home with this.....

Welcome to our home, Little Bear! 

Standing on the Precipice

Taken from the geography site

Afternote:  Since writing this post,  I have received a few concerned emails and phone calls from dear souls who thought I'd gone off the deep end (pardon the pun).  No, I'm not suicidal, I am not injecting illegal drugs (or legal drugs, for that matter), and I'm still happily married.  Sometimes taking a step of faith in my life can feel a bit like cliff jumping.  The following simply describes, disturbingly accurately, perhaps, my inner struggle with this journey of faith.

The rock is cold and rough beneath my feet.  Mist from the churning water below settles on my skin.  One solitary breath.  Exhale slowly. Inch my toes closer to the edge.  One more deep breath.  This is harder than it appears.  Peer cautiously over the edge.  Down.  Down.  The water beckons, but does not give up its secrets. What lays beneath remains a mystery.  Heart stops, then pounds fast and furious. Breath is suspended.  Stomach tightens into a hundred knots.  Toes curl inward.  Inner voices battle viciously.  Toes now extend past the edge of the rock.  Fists clenched.  One more deep breath.  Oh, silence, you voice of reason! Heart threatens to burst from the chest. Legs bend slightly at the knee.

1...2...3.....

I jump.

In this moment, I am......

Laughing: still, at the t-shirt a man at the mall was wearing.  It said "To: Women.  From: God."  Such confidence.  Or something.

Endlessly grateful: to my dad (and mom) who brought two huuuuge truck loads of wood, all chopped and ready to keep us toasty warm in the coming months.  Can you say S-P-O-I-L-E-D?

Cherishing: the time I have to work slowly, methodically and interruption free while my kids are at school.  It's bittersweet having them all in school again (or for the first time!), with an emphasis on sweet.

Loving: the feeling of the garden being emptied, fertilized and tilled - ready for the winter.  Thanks for tilling, Dr. Feelgood.  Such a gift.

Chicking: things off the fall to do list.  Yes, that was a pun.  We emptied out our chicken coop for the winter and have 120 eggs in the fridge waiting for someone to turn them into a gourmet dish.

Planning: bonfires like there's no tomorrow.  Because, soon, tomorrow will be too cold.

Avoiding: the niggling thoughts that I'm receiving 600 pigs and shipping 400 tomorrow.  It's what I do, but some days, we all don't feel like doing what needs to be done, right?  Please?  Someone?

Listening: to the sounds of Taelyn in the bathtub, squirting water out of a fish.  It's her day at home today.

Smelling:  Nothing.  No smells indicating that anyone has started supper.  What to make.  This is becoming a bit of an epidemic. Whatever happened to regular meal planning?  I used to be so organized.

Cozying up: With the following books: One Thousand Gifts, The Omnivore's Dilemma, Made to Crave, The Rhythm of Family, and Crazy Love.  A bit of a smorgasborg, but I love it!   Fall and reading.....mmmmmm.

Looking forward to: a date with my oldest daughter at the teahouse on Wednesday evening. 

Wishing you: all a great week.  May you stop long enough to breathe in the gorgeous fresh air and admire the extravagant display of fall foliage.  Isn't it startling how death can look so beautiful?

Grace Lessons (aka learning what I already know)

The pigs press in hard against the feeder. 

It's time for their daily ration of manna.

I watch as they squeal, desperately nosing up to the river of grain tumbling into the stainless steel feeder. Twenty five of them push and shove with all the gusto their 40 pound bodies can muster, clamouring for more - always clamouring.  One climbs up on the back of another and staggers clear over the writhing pack and drops his body into the group of frenzied weanlings at the trough, all feverish and determined to keep their places .

Grace has no place here.

I stand there, shaking my head.  I know something they don't.

While they are bellowing and fighting for each crumble of grace-sustenance, not knowing when it will stop, I do know. Eight tonne.  That's how much feed there is available to them.  Enough to fill their feeder a hundred times over.  Much more than enough to satisfy.

And yet they fight. And screech. And holler. And walk on others, scratching their way to the front, all bellowing in ear-piercing protest.  Manners have no place here, either.

Really, what can you expect, right?  They're pigs.  They didn't get their reputation for being "pigs" for nothing.

I watch them, vaguely amused, stopped in my tracks by what I've seen a hundred times, and yet today seeing it as for the first. 

One barrow, particularly passionate in his effort to get to the feeder, catches my attention. I see his body, tense and frenzied, thrashing about in his struggle. I whisper it, aloud, though who's listening - "Hey, honey, relax - there's enough for all of you."

There's enough for all of you.

I stop, hold my breath, strangely aware that the words whispered were maybe meant for me.  Could it be?

Could it be that there is enough goodness, blessing, in this world for all of us, enough to fill all our outstretched hands, food aplenty for each and every hungry heart?

Could it be that if good fortune finds a neighbour, that I could rejoice with them, knowing that they haven't stolen anything from me?  Could it be that gifts, blessings, good fortune are not merely poured out at random over humanity, leaving us to claw our way to acquire as much as we can, but that we are each given our own cup, carefully measured with what we need by One who knows best? Could I have the courage to smile bravely when someone else wins and it feels like my loss?  Could I rest, smile knowingly, because I haven't been forgotten? Could I give today's ration away, believing that when my need arises, my cupped hands will be filled?  Can I be wholely satisfied with the measure in my cup?

The feeder is full.  I switch off the feedline and turn off the lights. I close the door to the barn, thoughts and soul churning.

A David Psalm (The Message translation)

 ^1-3 God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
   You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
      you find me quiet pools to drink from.
   True to your word,
      you let me catch my breath
      and send me in the right direction.

 ⁴ Even when the way goes through
      Death Valley,
   I'm not afraid
      when you walk at my side.
   Your trusty shepherd's crook
      makes me feel secure.

 ⁵ You serve me a six-course dinner
      right in front of my enemies.
   You revive my drooping head;
      my cup brims with blessing.

 ⁶ Your beauty and love chase after me
      every day of my life.
   I'm back home in the house of God
      for the rest of my life.

A Tale of Western Society

Love this story that I read over at Centsational Girl.

The Tourist and the Mexican Fisherman

author unknown

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village.  An American tourist got out and complimented the local Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish, then asked how long it took him to catch them.

“Not very long,” answered the Mexican.
“But then, why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?” asked the American.

The fisherman explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American tourist asked,

“But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The fisherman replied,

“I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, señor.”

The American interrupted,

“I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should spend more time fishing, and with the proceeds you buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.”
“Instead of selling your fish to a middleman, you can negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge enterprise.”

          “How long would that take?” asked the Mexican.
         
          “15, perhaps 20, years,” replied the American.

          “But what then, señor?”

“Afterwards? That’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the American, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!”

          “Millions, señor?  Then what?”

The American said slowly,

“Then, you would retire!  Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

I got all that from an egg.....

This spring, my son presented me with a robin egg he found, abandoned, in the grass.  As I was admiring its beauty, I was struck with the sudden thought "you will only experience your potential through brokenness".  This egg, which was smooth and beautiful and stained the most brilliant of shades, actually represented death, unfulfilled dreams. A wasted life.  How sad, really.  Only when the egg is broken, shattered and stained, does it result in the life it was intended for.

It nudged me to thinking about the thin veneer, or eggshell, in the lives of us humans.  We all have an eggshell to a degree, don't we?  We project ourselves according to other's expectations, we resist vulnerablity, we're interested in talking about our successes, but not our failures, we avoid painful subjects and the people who trigger them, we struggle to seek forgiveness, we question God when painful things come into our life, we say all is fine thank you very much, because we secretly believe our darkness, our ugliness, will be repulsive to those around us. And so we hide inside our beautifully crafted shell.  We wax it, shine it up, fix up any cracks that threaten to cause our vulnerable, weak, fragile selves to be exposed to the world.  We think we would be whole and happy if only we could avoid pain and brokenness.

And we don't realize that brokenness is the only path to life. 

Even Jesus Christ was only able to fulfill his ultimate purpose through brokenness.... "this is my body, broken for you."

So I attempt to choose the path of vulnerability and humility more often.  I beg my child for forgiveness because I have hurt them with my words. I humbly lean my head against my husband's chest and whisper "I was wrong". I confess the darkness in my heart to those around me, hanging on to the words of James, "confess your sins to each other....so that you may be healed" (5:16).  It feels hard.  I don't like the feeling of being broken, but it is the only way. To life, that is.

And I attempt to accept adversity in my life, humbly seeking to learn from it, grow from it, challenge my perceptions. I choose not to shake my fist at God, who allows the painful situation, and has the power to remove it from my life. I humbly acknowledge that I do not always know what is best for me.  Lately, I've particularly enjoyed reading Job 38-41.  It is God's response to Job's painful situation.  And his situation is hard, isn't it?  He's lost his kids, his servants, all his wealth, and his health.. Everything, it seems.  And so I expect God's response to his cries should be laced with deep sadness and maybe even regret, right? But his response is startling - to me, at least. I can almost hear the gentle sarcasm (is that what it is?!) in His voice "Brace yourself like a man; I will question you and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?  Tell me if you understand.  Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!" (Job 38:3-5).  "Have you entered the storehouses of snow? (22) Does the rain have a father? (28)Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens? (29) Can you lead out the bear with its cubs (32)Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens? (37)  "Surely you know, for you were already born!  You have lived so many years!" (v 21).  And God goes on, asking question after question, basically reading out a small part of His daily "to do" list....and Job's response in 40:4-5 is becoming mine - "I am unworthy - how can I reply to you? I put my hand over my mouth, I spoke once, but I have no answer - twice, but I will say no more."    

And so I strive to accept the pain in my life, hanging on to the belief that God has my best interest at heart, and this pain, this brokenness, will produce the life I was intended to live.  That it is a necessary part of His plan for my life.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance.  Perserverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1: 2-4.

Brokenness.  Not a popular word in today's society. But then, God's path is usually countercultural.

Cell Phone Cozy

Since getting my new cell phone, I have been very careful to not drop it, step on it, sit on it, scratch it, throw it in a lake, or otherwise destroy it.  However, I'm quickly realizing that I'll need some help.  The kind of help that a cell phone case could provide.  After deciding against buying a case (I didn't find anything fun online, and what's a phone without a happy case???!), I decided to sew one.  A quick online search resulted in a tonne of tutorials.  I decided to generally follow the guidelines set in this one at sew mama sew, although I changed it up a bit to accommodate the size of my phone.  I found two scrap pieces of fabric and some natural cotton batting (to provide a bit of extra protection).  It's been awhile since I've sewn anything, but I enjoyed the feeling of creating something with my hands, despite all the imperfections that I see (and it gave me very fond memories of my dear Aussie sister-in-law, who is a domestic, crafty goddess, and was the person who inspired me to begin sewing to start with).  I haven't decided how I'm going to close the case (either velcro or a snap of sorts), but here's what I've whipped up so far.

And here she is, all tucked in for sleeping......