In which Annie had a little kiss from heaven

One Saturday past, Anne and I went to the States. We got up early, got our passports, had Brian scribble a note to the border guard that I had his permission to take his daughter out of the country and then we drove to Barnes and Noble.

Yes. I drove all the way to the United States just to hang out at Barnes and Noble on a Saturday morning.

A girl has got to have her priorities straight.

We had the best morning. We looked at books together. TOGETHER. Are there words for how joyful my heart was at sitting with my little daughter, paging through books together? We curled up at the chairs. We listened to storytime. We browsed through every section but she loved the cookbooks most of all.

I told her she could pick one book out and so she had to make sure that she got the right one. We read almost every single Berenstain Bear book they had as part of her quest. Eventually, she settled on "The Berenstain Bears Go to the Dentist."

We paid for it and then I wrote her full name in it. I hardly ever do that but she asked and so I did.

We went out to lunch together. I could listen to her all day long. Especially when I say "Tell me about your teeth" and she responds, thoughtfully with her head cocked, "I don't really like my teeth because they're white. I'd rather have pink teeth, Mum."

Then we went to Target.

Clearly, it was the best day ever. (Despite my sometimes tumultuous relationship with the value behemoth, I just can't stay away for long.)

We were down there looking at bedding for her new twin bed but didn't find any. She got to ride in the cart which she never gets to do anymore since that's Joseph's spot. We got a little bag of popcorn which she munched happily all around the store. We tried on fancy shoes. She told me stories. When she got bored while I looked bedding, she "read" her new little book a few times.

After we were done, we headed back to the car and drove all the way home in the dark.

But when we got home, tragedy struck. She didn't have her new book. We searched everywhere but it wasn't there. Finally, we ascertained that she had accidently left it in the cart when we were leaving. She was so upset and, to be honest, I felt quite sad as well. It was such a special day, just us two girls, which doesn't happen often enough.

Two Saturdays later, my mother called me and told me she was going over the line to shop with my sister, my niece and Addy's other grandma from Calgary. She asked if the tinies needed anything and, off the cuff, I asked her to check at the Lost and Found at the Target for Annie's little book.

She went there right away and they didn't have it. She was quite disappointed. Then Laurie (my sister's mother in law) and my mother headed to the book section. They reasoned that since the book was practically brand new, maybe someone had just reshelved it.

They searched high and low but never saw the book. Finally, my mother said out loud "I can't believe it! No Berenstain Bears Dentist book!"

A lady in the other aisle looked up. "Excuse me? Did you say you were looking for a Berenstain Bears Dentist book? I have the last one, right here."

She held out the book. My mother said her hands started to get a little trembly. She reached out and opened the book.

Sure enough, there, on the inside cover was Anne's name.

They hollered and rejoiced. The lady was pretty excited to be a part of the whole performance, it seems.

They brought the book home to Anne and made a great show of explaining how it was such a neat story! How Granny found the book! How it very nearly went out of the store at the exact same moment they were there to get it! It was such a close call! But here it is! Isn't it just a miracle, Annie!

Anne was so pleased but it didn't seem like she was that surprised. That night, when she was getting into bed, she looked at her book and said, matter-of-factly, "Jesus brought me that book back. Jesus and Granny did it together, Mum."

We now read it every night over-and-over-and-over. The book has been memorized already.

She also has a dentist appointment booked for the end of the month.

In which I am just going to write about my couch and not edit it

Brian and Anne, late 2006.

This is a writing exercise from Adventures in Babywearing. Basically, you need to write about a couch for 3 minutes straight with no editing. This terrifies me a bit - not the couch, the no-editing part. So here I go.

We bought that couch, this giant green cotton twill monstrosity right before we got married. It was one of our first purchases, one of my first grown-up-for-real purchases. (I liked to think at just-turned-22 that we were grown-ups.) We liked the greenish sage colour. Unfortunately, we didn't realise that two large couch cushions result in a deep V-shape after two weeks. I was usually clinging to the edge, close to sliding down into the centre of the couch.

On Monday nights, for about four years, there would be a tangle of high school girls on that couch. We'd talk about following Jesus, boys, body image, relationships, school, parents and life. I loved those girls fiercely.

I wonder if they could ever know how deeply I adored them, how much I liked them, how smart and beautiful and fun they were, if they could ever know how I prayed for them. That I still pray for each of them, pulling their names and faces through my memory every now and again. I love them still. And just to make me feel old, they send me their university graduation announcements, gorgeous handmade wedding invitations and their photos of sweet, kissable, new babies.

After four years of youth ministry, that couch was decimated. Stained with pop and dropped pieces of pizza, the V-shape was now an abyss, impossible to rise from without assistance.

I contributed all of the pen marks and the spilled coffee stains.

In which the story is shifting evidently

Brian and Anne, standing at the Pacific Ocean.

So here we are. Another crossroad. Another opportunity. Another bit of change.

So much for feeling settled. Remember this? Still true.

I'm left wondering about our story now.

Is this a pivotal turning point?

Even if it's not, I want to be writing a good story.

A story of faith and not fear. A story of trust and not doubt.

Another chapter of love in a time of change.

In which Brian gets laid....(off)

Okay, that is the worst title known to man. But admit it - you laughed. And the fact that Brian and I both snickered like junior high boys over it, almost makes the reality of it a bit easier to bear.

The company that Brian works for declared bankruptcy and, of course, that meant that he was released from his job. Laid off, if you will. No more paycheque. No more company truck. No more cell phone. It's just ka-put. Suddenly, unemployed, just like that.

We've felt a bit like we just got the wind knocked out. He knew the company was in trouble but wasn't expecting anything quite this drastic.

So here we are. Wondering what's next.

He is 2 classes away from being finished with that graduate degree. After the tinies were born, he couldn't finish while working full time so it's just sat there, nearly-done-but-not-quite for nearly two years. We're going to see if he can get a grant to complete it as part of the government's economic recovery plan. He'll be on pogey for a while, I imagine. I'm going to try to pick up some extra hours to cover the mortgage. And once his degree is complete, he'll find another full time job. We would both love to see him doing something he loved so much, like full time vocational pastoring, again. His heart is with people and, even though he loves being a carpenter, he misses it. But even if, when he's done his degree, he still works as a carpenter, that's okay, too.

We do appreciate your encouragement, support and prayers. Right now, we're still a bit numb. Not feeling any fear or worry yet, just waiting to see what God has planned for us.

In which it's become a bit more simple and I like it

Week 6

Something a bit different than my usual review this week - a snapshot instead.

One night, we sat down to our supper. On the table were glasses of water and organic milk, a carved whole chicken, grape tomatoes, homemade hummus and carrots. It was a very simple meal.

As part of our new-usual, we lit what Anne refers to as "The Breakfast Candle." We sat down together, we held hands, we prayed a prayer of thanksgiving over the meal, we swung our hands and hollered "ONE...BIG...HAPPY...FAMILY!"

We started to eat but the tinies wanted to "do cheers" so we all clinked our glasses and then Joseph decided that it would be a good idea to do "fist bumps" a few dozen times.

Anne has discovered the wonder of "knock-knock" jokes but doesn't really get it yet. I tell her the one about an orange ("Orange you gonna let me in?") and she repeats it over and over, with different veggies and fruits but with the same line. "Tomato you gonna let me in! Apple you gonna let me in!"

Then Anne wanted to tell Joseph where everything came from. "This is milk! It comes from a cow. These are tomatoes...where do they come from, Dad?"

"From a farm. Or your Grandpa Bessey's garden."

"Oh. Okay. And chicken comes from a chicken. And carrots are on a farm. And I made the hummus."

"Hey, hey, hey. Your brother and I helped," I corrected.

"Right."

"Now I know where everything came from," she reported. "It's my favourite supper. Ever. Ever. Ever."

She ate almost her entire plate. Joseph just shoveled whole spoonfuls of hummus into his mouth. I was pretty sure I'd be clearing hummus out of his ears for the next few days. He had the worst garlic breath I'd ever smelled on a 17 month old.

When it was time for dessert, I offered grapes. They squealed and jumped up and down.

In which this is the theme for the weekend

The sun is shining.

The babies need some Mum-and-Dad time.

The toilets and laundry can wait.

So can the banking and the taxes and the world-saving.

Right now, we're going outside.

Later, we'll make supper together. Maybe bake some cookies (whole food variety, of course).

Then we'll read stories like the Berenstein Bears Go to the Dentist for the 10th time today.

And then I'll rock Joseph in that stained glider with his hands and mine tangled in his own blonde curls.

And then I'll crawl into Anne's little twin bed with her because she always asks to be "snuggled to sleep" and press my nose to her neck, just to breathe her in.

And then I'll curl up with my husband for the rest of our life.

That embroidery work was done by my mother for me (hence, the BJS). The same one hung in our house growing up and was often referred to by her. So we found the kit on eBay and she did it for me, for my house, for my priorities.

In which this is my bit for the Saturday Evening Blog Post

Elizabeth Esther is hosting the usual Saturday Evening Blog Post with our Best Post of February. I love this idea because it's interesting for me to go over everything I've written over the past month and think it through again.

This was a very full month for my little blog. I started the Whole Food Challenge, riled up a few people with my apathy around the Official Emerging Church, contemplated a separation from church altogether and even gave my "how-to-get-started-knitting" opinion.

Basically, I looked back on the month and thought, "Whoa. I need to lighten the crap up."

So I chose this post, In which she knew just what he needed, about a sweet moment between my two tinies, because it's part of my ongoing realisation that the best gift I've ever given them is each other.

You can head over to her place to read more "best of the month" posts or to link up your own. It's a lovely community.