This is Hard - A Letter to My Husband**

So here we are, in year three of our marriage, with a one year old and a 'house on a piece of land.' 

It was 4:19am when I woke up yesterday to turn on the heat in our holiday trailer that we have been living in since June 1. We had collapsed into bed at midnight after shoving insulation into the joists of our upstairs attic-I have the bruises on my forearms to prove it. Last night we talked heat exchangers and circulating pumps and did our dishes and cleaned up instead of installing insulation so that when I leave this morning for my new part-time job, you will have enough space in our little trailer to care for our little girl. 

Every once in awhile you say you're exhausted, beat, burned out. Every once in a MORE whiles you listen to me complain and cry. 

This is hard.

We chose this. We love this. I am learning SO much by taking a bare piece of land and making it livable. We are pioneers of a different sort. When all is said and done we will have a relatively tiny mortgage in this uncertain economy because we are choosing to do the work ourselves....while asking others to join us as they are able. I used to keep track of how many bags of demo we took out of the house; I should start with how many hours of babysitting dear friends and family have provided. 

This is hard.

These seasons of life that we have been through my Farm Boy; the falling in love and the staying in love. Staying in love when I was adapting to life in our town; away from all the familiar. You held me then while I cried. During those sleepless nights with our little one; you held me then too while I cried-or held her so I could stop crying and sleep. Now when I measure something wrong or am just plain weary of measuring, lifting, cutting, hammering, scraping, mudding and taping (didn't take me long to weary of that); you still hold me and we both say...this is hard.

And then we laugh. We laugh at our daughter who is absolute Gift to us. We laugh at ourselves and happy dance after installing kick-a** hardwood flooring. We laugh as we fill a borrowed dump trailer with absolutely everything on a supply run to the city. We celebrate the generosity of certified and credentialed friends who provide advice and feedback; phone call after phone call. 

 

We laugh. We cry. We hope. We pray. We trust. And we build. We build this marriage, this family, this life-one hard and happy experience at a time. 

So dear husband; I'll say it again today-there's no where else I'd rather be. I am so proud of you and us. We're doing this! 

**Thank you to my friend Rachael for her permission to borrow the format, style and even title of this blogpost from her recent one. Please read hers at: The Good Wife

All I Need Are Some Apple Trees

 When Brian and I first met, it didn’t take long for us to develop a pattern in our long-distance communication. It would start with a text in the morning, ‘Good Morning Beautiful’ and then finish with a video chat or phone call that always included Brian playing some of his favorite Country songs and how they related to his life and faith. It didn’t take long for him to find his favorite for me - ”Hey Pretty Girl” by Kip Moore.

It also didn’t take long for Brian to win my heart, pop the question and produce a ring. In short order we set a date, booked a honeymoon and then 3 months into this new mystery called marriage; found ourselves with the opportunity to become parents. Our little amazing girl with bright blue eyes arrived 7 days shy of our first anniversary. During her percolation period, we also started the process of purchasing a little home, securing financing, and creating budgets for septic and water systems, solar power, hardwood flooring, drywall, and the list goes on!

Today, the home finally arrived on our screw pile foundation! Right in the middle of our hay field! Today I am learning yet again about a new phrase that has entered my life since being introduced to Brian; ‘make hay while the sun shines.’ This fall I realized practically what this means – it means watching the clouds and horizon every morning to see what the day may hold. It means consulting weather apps for the odds of rain. It means turning to my husband to see his expression…yup, today is a day for hay.

Make the most of every opportunity, get while the getting’s good, Carpe Diem – seize the day. John Heywood first records this proverb of ‘doing something while the situation and conditions are right’ in 1546:

When the sunne shinth make hay. Whiche is to say. Take time when time cometh, lest time steale away.

My life the last 24 months has felt like a ‘make hay’ kind of season; dating and marriage, new job, new community, new baby, new house, new everything. It could seem risky and irresponsible to some; throwing caution to the wind for others. Or it could be about taking a good long look at the horizon, turning one’s face to the sun and trusting that ‘today is a good day to make hay.’

Kip Moore did a good job of predicting this haymaking journey. According to him, now all I need are some apple trees!

Hey Pretty Girl

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7gjwS13smI

Hey pretty girl, won't you look my way

Loves in the air tonight.

You can bet you'll make this ol' boy's day

Hey pretty girl, won't you look my way.

Hey pretty girl, can I have this dance

And the next one after that?

Gonna make you mine there's a real good chance,

Hey pretty girl, can I have this dance.

Hey pretty girl, it feels so right

Just like it's meant to be.

All wrapped up in my arms so tight,

Hey pretty girl, it feels so right.

Life's a long and winding ride

Better have the right one by your side.

And happiness don't drag its feet

Time moves faster than you think.

Hey pretty girl, I wanna take you home

My momma's gonna love you.

She'll make me sleep on the couch, I know.

But hey pretty girl, I wanna take you home.

Hey pretty girl, lets build some dreams

And a house on a piece of land.

We'll plant some roots and some apple trees

Hey pretty girl, lets build some dreams.

Life's a long and winding ride

Better have the right one by your side.

Happiness don't drag its feet

And time moves faster than you think.

Hey pretty girl, you did so good

Our baby's got your eyes.

And a fighter’s heart like I knew she would.

Hey pretty girl, you did so good.

Hey pretty girl when I see the light

And it's my time to go,

I'm gonna thank the Lord for a real good life

A pretty little girl and a beautiful wife.

Living With An Open Hand

In the past few months, as winter has continued to bear down on Bonnyville, Alberta I have become a little house hermit seeking warmth and comfort - and have succumbed to the experience of assorted Star Trek reruns with my new husband. Gah! I’m admitting publicly for the first time; I am actually enjoying them.

While the opening narrative of this franchise of shows has been edited over the years, the heart of the matter has remained. “Space, the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its five year mission; to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.”

When Brian and I first met, it didn’t take us long to realize something remarkable was happening and this ‘something remarkable’ quickly opened into love and then marriage and yes…as is now public knowledge…a soon-to-be baby carriage. We were and are boldly going where neither one of us has before.

At some point on this journey, we discovered the language of ‘living with an open hand.’ We believe it started from my experiences with my contemplative prayer class, ‘Living from the Heart.’ It has since carried over into our daily life and has even been used by a pastor-friend in our post-marriage spiritual direction.

What does ‘living with an open hand’ mean to me? Not unlike the mission and mandate of the assorted Star Trek crews, there is an element of mystery, unknown, discovery, expectation, hope and…trust.

I may not be in a fancy, warp-speed space travel vehicle exploring new star systems but I am experiencing some cultural transitions involving new life forms, styles of communication and associated risks.

Living with an open hand is a very physical, tactile form of prayer for me. It’s a posture of trust and surrender. It’s risky and unfamiliar because I am more used to a clenched fist surrounding my values and wants. Control has been the more familiar path in my life, or perhaps better understood as the illusion of control – including control of circumstances and others.

Living with an open hand is an act of release, an act of freedom. It is living with arms wide open, experiencing without a shadow of a doubt the goodness and perseverance of Love - of God. In the midst of uncertainty, pain, sorrow, confusion, delight, amazement, ordinariness, fear and wonderment.

A quote from author Jeff Imbach, in a little photo frame in our bathroom, reads “choice becomes a real possibility when longing is accepted and fulfillment is celebrated but not demanded. This is the place of freedom.”

Living with an open hand means less demanding and more accepting. It means I sit with the honest truths of my wants and desires, I acknowledge the goodness of their arrival/completion/fulfillment and I open my hands in celebration of the unknown future. This is a paradigm shift. I don’t run and hide from the unknown, I dance party it up with the unknown! This experience is revealing to me all the ‘what ifs’ that often crowd my mind, my words and my behavior instead of the ‘what is.’

To be a starship Captain, the ‘what is’ of the mission is the motivating factor, not all the unknown ‘what ifs.’ The choice to explore and discover; to risk and to leap; to hope yet again is ever present and ever opportune. So, just for today, I sit back in my chair, I breathe deep and I say, ‘Engage!’

*photo credit to Robb Penner, hands of little Lucy Ireland, his daughter.

The Peace of Wild Things

I have just returned ‘home’ from a weekend visit ‘home.’ I have been in search of what ‘home’ means to me now, this last month, in light of new marriage, new house, new community, new family, new name, new job, and new path.

My visit back to the familiar ‘home,’ from this place of newness, was very life giving. Familiar family, friends, roads, stores, community, and conversations.

The return to the new ‘home’ was also incredibly life giving. There is no competition running, no helpful or necessary comparison; pro and con lists fall by the wayside. New and familiar both have their place. Both have their beauty.

One moment of beauty was this morning as I watched two great white birds, slowly and certainly; make their way across the waters of Moose Lake, the shore on which my new house is situated. I would like to think they were herons although with my limited knowledge (and eyesight) they could have been snow geese or pelicans.

The reason I want to suggest herons is because of the following poem by Wendell Berry that was offered by a familiar friend this past weekend, amidst conversation of life, love and other mysteries. Did I lay my eyes on the great heron - I will allow a wishful indulgence in timely coincidence and dare to say 'maybe...just maybe.' 

In all of my defining of ‘home’ and in all of my transitionary experiences, where beauty abounds, I offer this poem as a glimpse into my soul, my heart and my mind…the peace of wild things.

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.   

Ode to Marriage and Football...

Marriage.
Mystery.
Two becoming one.
Partners. Completion. Companions.
Am I a cheerleader? 
I am a teammate.
I am a participant. 
I'm on the field.
I'm in the game. 
The starting whistle is coming. 
The first kick off is arriving. 
The scoreboard is ready to honor the victories.
The fans are filling the stands.
I put on my jersey, my colors, my loyalty.
I perform my warm-up stretches and passes. 
I breathe.
I kneel to pray in centre field; arm in arm with my teammate. 
Our Coach is with us too. 
Our Coach has the playbook. 
Our Coach makes the calls; giving us guidance, hope, encouragement and direction.
Our Coach. 
Our team. 
Our time.
For such a time as this. 
Players to the field.
Huddle up. 
It is time. 
Game on. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven...."

Breaking The Barrier: In Search Of Meaning In Mess

“There is nothing so secular that it cannot be sacred, and that is one of the deepest messages of the Incarnation.” – Madeleine L’Engle

    

One of my favorite memories of my time serving people with disabilities at L’Arche Calgary was, of all things, the personal care moments with my friend ‘Daisy.’ How many times did we share in the bathroom, chatting about the day and laughing at the absurdity of what ‘personal care’ actually entails. Giggling while plugging our noses and refilling, yet again, the toilet paper roll. Multiple side effects of various medications, supplements to help with limited muscle activity and a robust daily menu, all helped to create unique and often unhurried experiences. And yet, these times of waiting frequently created pockets of absolutely delightful conversation and dare I say even ‘sacred moments.’ These were times of beauty amidst a lot of mess!

A YouTube video, made two years ago, entitled ‘Breaking the Barrier’ has been resurfacing on Facebook. I don’t necessarily recommend it for the faint of heart but suffice it to say that if you want to hear how one couple developed boundaries (or lack thereof) around daily personal moments, it definitely creates conversation around what is or isn’t appropriate behavior. Wow. What a loaded question, what IS appropriate behavior these days? 

I have a little two-year-old niece I’ve mentioned before, named Norah. Recently, I was hosting her, along with her two older brothers and younger baby sister for an afternoon. It was busy. Active. Not quite chaos. I needed a personal moment and asked if the other kids would keep an eye on the baby. As soon as I asked for help, Norah jumped up and ran to the bathroom, lifted the toilet seat for me saying ‘here you go Chistee,’ and then ran back to play with her little sister. This act of hospitality and service melted my heart. Somewhere, in her little experience thus far, she had determined that this was appropriate behavior, to help others when asked – yes, take care of the baby and yes – take care of me.

It was this little act of supporting my personal care that got me thinking of another ‘breaking the barrier’ moment in life - as it relates to this Easter weekend. A creator-sustainer-provider-redeemer-God ‘broke the barrier,’ entered a little messed up world and chose to ‘lift the toilet seat’ of human experience to bring meaning and hope. The choice of behavior for this God was a harsh and bloody death on a cross. Messy. Lowly. And yet this death somehow, mysteriously, Christians believe, brings about life and life to the fullest. How appropriate is this behavior? Is this how I’d chose - in my limited knowledge of redemptive practices?

How great that in the deep need of daily experience, I am finding a God who delights to serve. Sacrificially. Personally. At the risk of being misunderstood and mocked. This God breaks a barrier again this Easter and says ‘It is finished.’ Not in the likeliest or perhaps most ‘appropriate’ of ways but in the most hopeful. Jesus on a cross. In a grave. And then…in a garden; victorious over death. Breaking the final barrier and offering freedom, love, hope - amidst mess. Not in spite of it but through it. Meaning in the mess. Amen. 

Falling in LOVE

On December 29^th, after our fourth date and Brian’s return home to Bonnyville, I had time to share some of this new dating experience with my brother Robb and his wife Melissa. Robb read this little Celtic prayer for me. I was more than a little freaked out seeing as how it used the word LOVE. Robb was very cool to suggest that I substitute in whatever language I might need, to have it be a present experience and a future reality. 

On January 4^th Brian took a risk and used the “L” word on the phone, I took a risk of my own by trying not to freak out and so I shared this prayer with him. Our story then started in on yet another new chapter entitled “How long until Christy returns the “L” word?” It didn’t take as long as I thought and I give this prayer partial credit!

Enjoy, adapt and ponder….

Celtic Blessing for Falling in Love

"Bless this thing that sparks like lightening

That burns like fire

That radiates like the inside of the first moment of the cosmos

In this awakening love may there always be

courtesy and respect

trust and courage

tenderness and truth.

Take from it all that destroys and is willful

Give to it all that lasts and is selfless

That the one may wither and the other may grow strong

And shine forever.

God bless this one whom I feel such love for.

May I never cheapen this love

May I never use the other just to gratify my appetites

May I always be there for the other

May this love be like a flower that slowly opens up to reveal its full beauty

May I offer my beloved a heart of valor, restraint, and service."

(Celtic Blessings: Prayers for Everyday Life--Compiled by Ray Simpson, 1999)