In which a lazy morning in Fort Langley deserves a latte

Sun is 

finally

finally

finally

shining.

We went to Fort Langley

just so that the tinies

could clamber on the old train tracks

and pick dandelions

and draw pictures in the dirt

and make each other laugh

and watch 

the world go by.

We also went for

a latte at Wendel's

(AKA Mum's Happy Place).

No blogs

No Twitter

No Facebook

No TV

No radio

No opinions about our life.

No major decisions about the future to contemplate.

The only choice to make today:

would sir and mademoiselle

like jam or butter on their muffin?

(After much debate,

both.)

We took the back roads home

singing songs

of our own making.

*Linked up for Wednesday of Few Words at A Lot of Loves and 5 Minutes for Mom's Wordless Wednesday (not quite).

In which Anne guards her gates

Anne has gone to preschool one day a week for the past six months. She attends at a local dance school which we thought would be fun for her – in case you didn’t know, she likes to perform. So they offered some music and dance time in addition to the usual preschool fun. Instead of a typical preschool end-of-the-year performance, the dance school includes the preschool in their big performance.

Anne was absolutely adorable, making her big theatre debut. The sheer level of All The Cute for the preschool class was through the roof. Anne’s class did “Following the Leader” from Peter Pan. She didn’t miss a cue, my beautiful girl, and was thrilled to be up there. Every other preschooler was milling about, willy-nilly, but Anne hit every gesture and move with precision, wearing her striped shirt with her blonde hair in pigtails.

And we – her Dad, her Granny, her Auntie and I – hooted and hollered and clutched our hearts with joy and sadness, whispering that she looked so grown up. The only sad part was that Uncle had to stay home with Joseph and Addision because they are too little for the performance and Papa was in Toronto on business. But Papa would bring her a rose for her big debut when he got home, we promised.

I could probably write a whole other post (and will, knowing me) about the inappropriate costumes and song choices for kids. I’m not much of a prude but it was, in my opinion, pretty inappropriate for chest bumps and booty pops to be done by 6 years olds in hot pants or 14 year olds to clutch their breasts and gyrate at the crowd.

But maybe I'm alone in that sentiment. (Suffice to say, Brian made it clear that Anne will be playing sports after that performance.)

Anyway, some of the bigger kids were milling around backstage in their costumes as ballerinas, tap dancers and pirates while the preschoolers waited to go on. The pirates were a bunch of skinny 10 year old kids in hysterically fake beards, ill-fitting pirate clothes and hats that fell over their eyes.

But when Annie saw these pirates, she was terrified. Absolutely terrified. So she clapped her hands over her eyes and told her teacher that she needed to “guard her gates!”

When I arrived, her teacher told me what had happened apologetically. "Sometimes we forget that she's so sensitive," she said.  I picked her up and talked to her about how they weren’t real pirates and so on.

“I know now, Mum,” she said. “But Papa and Granny told me to guard my gates and my eyes are my gates. So if I’m scared or don’t like something, just don’t look at it or listen to it so it can’t come into my heart.”

We went to meet Daddy and Granny. She stayed in my mother's arms, while she told her how well she did. Anne kept patting her Granny's back and laying her cheek on hers like she couldn't get enough of her Gran. "Oh, this is what life is about, Anne," her Granny told her.  Anne just wanted her Gran at that moment and told her that she remembered to guard her gates.

That night, when I tucked her into bed, we prayed together for her to have sweet dreams and not be afraid. She said, “You know, Mum, I can’t really remember what the pirates looked like. They did scare me. But I guard my gates.”

I thanked God for my parents again that night, so grateful that her Papa and Granny taught her to “guard her gates” as a child because really, they taught her to guard her heart from fear.


In these small ways, they are teaching her wisdom, guarding her heart because it's the well-spring of life (Proverbs 4:23), helping us teach her to fix her thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. To think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.... then the God of peace will be with her (Philippians 4:8).

She slept soundly all night, still sucking her thumb, reminding me that, depsite how long she is under her quilt, she is still just a little, little girl, listening to every word.

In which Brian reveals his true calling

I woke up grudgingly. I'd stayed up late, reading The Glass Castle and so, having my heart torn out. I finally fell asleep and one of the tinies was up from 2 until 3:30 not feeling well. I finally dropped into grateful slumber when the day started at Brian's 6:15AM alarm.

So, it's now nearly breakfast. Tinies are hungry and hollering. I'm making the bed, wearing an old green tank top that I slept in last night with my tangled hair in my eyes.

"Do you remember that time we stopped in Kansas?" he says, out of nowhere.


Do I remember?

We were 19 and had just started to "hang out" as we called it. I had accompanied him from Oklahoma to Nebraska, on a whim, on a dare, on a hunch, for the weekend. I met his parents and he called me his girlfriend. We were saying things like "I really like you" and "I care so much about you" as we danced around the word "love." Even though it was there, magnificent and overpowering us both, we couldn't name it yet so we moved on to "I adore you."

We were driving back through Kansas in a 1992 Chevy Lumina just the colour of tomato soup.We pulled over at sunset, next to a field. We climbed over the sagging fence and broke bread on an old quilt his grandmother had made, a pattern called Wedding Rings. We talked and we didn't talk.

I remember him that day as being thoughtful and quiet, often looking at me and seemingly on the verge of saying something, but not.

Eventually we returned to the car, stopped at Sonic in a now-forgotten Kansas town and drove back to university through the wheat field patchwork.

"Absolutely," I say. "Why?"

"I remember sitting there and, did I ever tell you? That day, I felt God tell him something. I was called to love you."

His eyes filled with tears.

"And I'm thankful," he says, "that I listened because loving you, for twelve years now, and look where we are! Two beautiful babies, a life together, memories and so much more ahead."

He's never told me that before.

"Loving you is my calling," he says, holding my face in his hands, like he did on our wedding day. "and always will be."

I kiss him with my lips sealed, just pressing mine to his, because I still have morning breath but it feels good anyway.

In which I am a working mother and proud of it

Recently, there has been another dust-up about being a working mother vs. a "stay-at-home" mother (I use quotations because we all know that mothers rarely get to stay at home much) in the Christian blogosphere.

It started because John Piper (to give full disclosure, not a preacher that I listen to or appreciate) did a short talk on the importance of women remaining "in the home". Then, a well-known writer and blogger, Matthew Paul Turner wrote a rather snarky but fantastic response. Since then, there have been many bloggers passionately writing their opinions about the question "Is it unbiblical for women to work outside the home?" in various levels of scholarship and opinions.

I have watched with a keen eye, particularly since I recently wrote this post about the the lack of respect that women receive in evangelical churches as leadership.

So here is my take.

I have never not considered having a career. I was raised in western Canada in the 80s and 90s. We all went to school with the full intent of attending university. My mother worked part-time for most of my childhood (not all) and eventually full-time when we were in high school. Also, I did not suffer from a lack of training in homemaking - both of my parents taught me how to do laundry, how to balance a cheque book, how to manage money, how to wash floor, make supper, cook a turkey dinner, clean a toilet and generally run a household. I say both of my parents on purpose - my father is the consummate laundry man but no one can iron a shirt like my mother. My mum taught me much of what I know about money but my dad paid the bills. It was a partnership between them to make sure I knew how to be a responsible adult.

I went to university and embarked on a career in financial services marketing. I was not even aware, to be honest, that there was a debate about whether or not women should be "working outside the home" which now sounds incredibly beautiful. I just worked. I had a job I liked, we managed our home and all was well. My husband was even a pastor at the time. Sometimes I felt some pressure from others to be more available for the "daytime ladies activities" because many churches like to schedule their ladies' Bible studies for Tuesday mornings but overall, I didn't feel much pressure or inclination to change the way things were for us.

Our lives have shifted over the years. Brian was a full time student again for a while so I worked and supported us both. Then I had a year of maternity leave for both of my children. Between Anne and Joseph, I worked full time again while Brian stayed home with our daughter full time and went to school.  After Joseph, I wanted to be home with them full time and made the changes necessary to do so, even quitting my job. Eventually I added two days a week at a non-profit that I am passionate about but I am home most of my weeks, 5 days out of 7 and my husband is the primary bread-winner.

I have heard all of the scriptures, I have read all of the translations, I have read all of the position papers and the blogs. I have been yelled at and high-fived over my choices.

I am now a working mother again. And there are those that think I am in sin for doing so. 

But here's the thing: this is legalism, plain and simple. 

Anytime that I try to make my interpretation of scripture or my personal experiences and revelations a rule, I impose legalism on others.

I am not far from God, nor am I deluded. I am not a man-hater, nor is my husband an effeminate doormat. I am a woman that deeply loves and follow Jesus. My husband is a theologian and, also, deeply loves and follows God. We have looked at the same scriptures they are looking at and have settled that we feel very differently than some others do.

I appreciate that some women feel differently. They are welcome to do so.

I simply ask for the same respect for my own decisions. (Too much to ask?) As a woman that loves God and loves her husband and family, I see that I am able to love them well, make a good home here in partnership with my husband and yet still work outside the home. 

(Ultimately, I take issue with the phrase "biblical womanhood" overall. And that's a whole other post.)

And I also take issue with the fact that we are not encouraged to seek God on this issue. When I tweeted (don't you hate that word?) my solution for the issue:  How about this solution for the working mum vs. stay at home debate? You do what you feel lead by God to do and I'll do the same. Done.  I was sarcastically asked if that meant I was going to completely ignore scripture.

Of course not. But I read Scripture and interpret it very differently than some. So then it does come down to this: are you open to Jesus? Are you open, in your heart of hearts, to having him speak into your life? That is not something to be lightly or playfully dismissed in my opinion. Either you know him and his voice or not. For some people that might mean working. For others, it might mean being home full time.  

But ultimately, if we believe that Christianity is about a relationship, not a religion, than we have to give credence to people hearing the voice of God and following it for themselves.

And that is some biblical truth for you, free of charge.

So here is something else: Do you believe that God speaks today? Do you believe that you can be actively lead? If so, then encourage women to seek God on these things for themselves. And don't assume that because you've heard from God for your own life that it means it's a Rule for All Women to Follow.

Above all else, the thing I struggle with the most in this conversation is the flat-out judgment.  Even if you disagree with me - vehemently, is there a way to disagree in love? Is there a way to disagree without imposing guilt and shame and hurt in the heart of another?

I will prepare my children equally for life - my son and my daughter. I will tell them both that they are smart. I will encourage both of them to pursue the life that they feel called towards - if that involves university or auto mechanic school or being a support to their spouse's career or whatnot. I will teach them both how to keep a home and balance a cheque book. I will teach them how to respect people and their choices, regardless of sex or religion. I don't mark many differences in how I raise my son vs. how I raise my daughter. Because ultimately, I want to raise them to be free to follow Jesus wherever he leads, whether it's a boardroom for my daughter or a kitchen for my son. There is no shame in either path. There is only shame in knowing that you were created to do or be something and then not having the courage to pursue it with abandon.

 So I work outside the home. I refuse to feel guilty for it. I am a woman that loves God deeply and loves her family wildly. Those two things are not opposed so I wish that some would stop trying to make them be so.

In which these are catching my eye and my heart this weekend

Weekend rambles while you wake up this morning.

Me, Elsewhere

My latest article at the Fraser Valley Pulse is up. It's about a our recent hike up Teapot Hill. Head over there to read it (and leave a comment).

Parenting

Everyone - yes, you - needs to read this post from Rage Against the Minivan. She was recently on The View, discussing her international adoptions. But obviously a 5 minute segment does not deep conversation make and so she wrote out all of the things she wishes she would have said about adoption. Beautiful, heart breaking, truthful, missional and raw. 

Emily at Chatting at the Sky wrote a vulnerable post to herself in 20 years. It's a reminder of what it's like and to not forget. Oh, if you are a mum of older kids, you know.

Life and Culture

(h/t to Jonathon Brink for this video about the death penalty)

Amnesty International from Digital District™ VFX Post-Pro on Vimeo.

5 Secrets to making a marriage last from Holy Experience - a lot of wisdom here.


Like the rest of the world, we're watching a lot of World Cup football around here these days. These photos from the Boston Globe's Big Picture (one of my favourite sites for photos) about the opening days of the World Cup were FANTASTIC.

Faith and Spirituality

Dave Carrol, a Canadian pastor, wrote an inspiring piece "Are we living in a giving revolution?" He profiles Warren Buffet (an Omaha boy, as my husband often likes to remind me) and turns it around to all of us.

I met this lovely woman only once before she left the Lower Mainland and moved to Ottawa with her Canadian hubby (she's a Yank). She is a deep thinker who doesn't blog often but when she does, it's worth reading. She wrote an interesting thread with her take on "I am valuable" in contrast to her life as she leads it now. It's beautiful and now I want to do one myself.

The two F's from Stuff Christians Like

Just for Fun

Hyperbole and a Half read my mail - and I suspect yours as well with her post "This is Why I'll Never Be An Adult."

This video (please click through if you are reading this in email or through a Reader) is so right on. So unbelievably, six shades of fabulousness. I laughed and then I cried. Oh, the real love story that Taylor Swift knows nothing about.

In which The Nines is indicative of a larger gender issue in the church

The Nines, a web based 'conference' is the brainchild of The Leadership Network and Catalyst. They asked church leaders on 09/09/09 to broadcast, via webcam, their message to the leaders of the church in just 9 minutes. These leaders - some well known, others lesser so - were watched by church leaders around the world all day long.

Last year, I watched several of the talks from The Nines - I found some of them insightful, gutsy, interesting and a fantastic format for this day and age. I am rather over conferences overall and so the ability to watch online without the cost of a big venue, travel or event was interesting, particularly for those of us that live outside of the USA and find travelling very expensive.

This year, The Nines stirred up some controversy because of the way that they asked people to nominate speakers. They posted a list of speakers, allowed others to nominate new ones and had a "like" and "dislike" button next to their names. Sadly, it was not well set up and at first glance, I agreed wholeheartedly with Skye Jethani's plea for them to take down the list because it reflected the values of our culture (with the popularity contest) instead of the values of the Church.  As their managing director later clarified, their heart was not to "rank" speakers but rather to have a more open-source method to hear new names, find out what worked and what didn't and, of course, create a buzz around the project itself (ahem, mission accomplished).

I appreciated their poorly-executed attempt to flatten the hierarchy a bit. As we all know, this is the world 2.0, meaning that it is interactive and we are the people formerly known as the audience, viewing our individual voices and stories as equal and valuable.  Also, as Bill Kinnon (a man that I really want to take out for coffee and just yak for a day or six) said, we are also the people formerly known as the congregation.

We are The People formerly known as The Congregation. We have not stopped loving the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Nor do we avoid "the assembling of the saints." We just don't assemble under your supposed leadership. We meet in coffee shops, around dinner tables, in the parks and on the streets. We connect virtually across space and time - engaged in generative conversations - teaching and being taught.

We live amongst our neighbours, in their homes and they in ours. We laugh and cry and really live - without the need to have you teach us how - by reading your ridiculous books or listening to your supercilious CDs or podcasts.

There are other questions to ponder like the sheer navel-gazing of the leadership movement over the past 50 years and whether even the idea of a leadership conference is anything more than self-congratulatory way to reinforce previously held, culturally conditioned beliefs by a select group.


But when I looked at the list, another thought struck me. Even beyond Mr. Jethani's well-reasoned argument and my own distaste for this type of thing, is this:

Where are the women?

The entire speaker list is, as usual, overwhelmingly male. A woman doesn't even appear until #34. There are only 10 women in the first 100 and they are the big names for the girls: Beth Moore, Priscilla Shirer etc. By my count, which may not be right given my marks in Math 30, there were 37 women total.  Even the female speakers that were highly ranked are traditionally on the women's conference circuit. Meaning that they don't teach men typically. And most of those where in the deep bowels of the list, where the total "votes" were in the single digits. You know, where Ed Young is located.

I don't necessarily blame The Nines for this. The Nines has become almost iconic in my mind for being representative of our culture-church tension right now - between the "like" vs. "dislike" popularity contest among Christian brothers (and a few sisters) and now this, they are showing themselves to be more of the same both from a cultural standpoint and a church standpoint.



The pragmatic side of this is that the fact that almost all of the leadership in the church today - at least of the highly visible, teaching kind - is overwhelming male. Therefore, it makes sense that the leaders invited to speak at a church leadership conference are overwhelmingly male. They are well known, publish more books, get more speaking engagements and generally lead more prolifically.

However.

It indicates the ongoing distaste that the church holds for women, the lack of respect for women in leadership, let alone the supreme lack of mentors that are raising up women as leaders.

The issue of women in leadership will not go away for the church. It will not go away for the institutional church and it will not go away for Christian families. Just like the issues of race and homosexuality, the church isn't exactly representing God's kingdom or heart for people by sticking their fingers in their ears and collectively humming loudly, hoping all of the feminists, gays, minorities and immigrants will go away.

The issue has been avoided or neutered in churches for too long. We hide behind platitudes and out-dated cultural roles, we hide behind one or two scriptures. We name women leaders as "directors" or "managers" instead of "pastor" and consider that progress. Women that are leading complex teams and organizations in the world or in their homes are rarely tapped to serve as elders and deacons or board members at churches.

This systemic refusal to see women as equals, to be able to receive from women, to celebrate women - not as "women leaders" but as just plain old leaders - grieves the heart of God, I imagine.

After reading The Atlantic's recent piece about the rise of women's influence and leadership in the world today (unfortunately titled "The End of Men"), it should be crytal clear to those in church leadership that women have something to bring to the table. And not in the stereotypical men-are-from-Mars, women-are-from-Venus way. There are gutsy, strong, intelligent women leading well.

So where are their voices in the church? And why aren't they speaking to the leaders of the church? Not only about women's issues and leadership but about the church as a whole?  Instead, we welcome voices that teach a very conservative view of male-female relationships and demean women from the pulpit while ridiculing men who share household chores.

My current opinion (meaning it's shifted often and likely will again - probably next week) is that reform is rather impossible from within at this stage. It's been attempted, for instance, by those of us that have identified with the emerging church over the years, but has quickly been sat in the corner as a niche market at best and heretical architects of the destruction of the church at worst.

I can't see the institutional church changing. I see them, as Julie Clawson so eloquently wrote, sailing this sinking ship until the bitter end.

They are so afraid of their cultural assumptions being challenged that they’ve lost sight that those assumptions are in fact cultural. While others will read this article and celebrate that women now have opportunities and then work hard at helping men and boys overcome years of false programming regarding what they were told a man had to be, some will continue to live in fear of the idea that God values and gifts women as well as men. That truth is finally being seen in society in major ways. The question remains if Christians find ways to help both men and women succeed, or will the church continue to fail men in its attempts to keep women down?

This is part of the Great Emergence, the major shift in the history of the church, the massive rummage sale that the church has every 1500 years or so, as Phyllis Tickle says, to get rid of the junk and clutter we've accumulated due to culture and other forces.

The culturally conditioned western evangelical mindset is over. It's just that no one in there is listening to us say: We want to hear women. 

We want to celebrate women's history and voice. We want to see women on our boards and in our pulpits - and not just in a symbolic way. We want to stop denigrating men and creating false culture wars or perpetuating stereotypes of gender.


We want to be the voice of God in our culture, giving women and men honour.


It remains to be seen if the "leadership for the church," like The Nines, will continue to perpetuate the status quo or take a bold step out towards embracing the voice of the other.


(Another item of note: where are the non-whites in that conference listing? In today's overwhelmingly pluralistic and immigrant-driven culture, few of us work or live in an all-white neighbourhood, particularly those of us in the western world but evidently, the Christian leadership speaker circuit is primarily an upper middle-class all-white neighbourhood.  In the world today, what was previously termed "a minority" is quickly becoming the norm (thank you, Jesus). And for those of us that are white (or in my case, incredibly, unbelievably white) few of us don't interact with or have friends or family members that are non-white. I would hope that our churches and in particular our leadership would reflect our current state of affairs, welcoming the voice of "the other" to the discussion.)


Thoughts?

(UPDATED TO ADD: Also, in the same line, here's a follow-up on women working outside the home - comments are fantastic as usual. You guys are smartie pants.)

In which we don't get enough old people these days

On Saturday, we took our tinies to the Abbotsford Farm and Country Market. There are the usual baked goods, peppers, tomatoes, strawberries (oh, the strawberries! We ate a 2kg bucket in one day) and local handcrafts.

Also, there are old people.


And I love it.

My grandparents are all dead - way too young, if you ask me. Even if they were still alive, they all lived in Saskatchewan (and occasionally Alberta) so they wouldn't be around much. My parents are certainly not the typical grandparents because they are still pretty young. My mother, for instance, got mistaken for this lady one time, neither one of them smells like baking and I am the one with the doughiest body out of the three of us.

Brian's parents are faraway in Omaha. Both of his grandfathers have passed away and his two grandmothers are both in Nebraska as well.

We don't have a lot of old people in our life.

So that's why I like being at the Farmers Market and having this happen:

Joseph was listening to two guys playing guitar and singing old Bob Seger tunes and he began to dance out there, all by himself. He is just 20 months and so it's more stomping and swaying but it is, without question, adorable.

While he and Anne were dancing, an elderly lady in hot wool clothes, despite the summer weather, and pearls began to dance with them. Judging by some of her mannerisms and way of speaking, it seemed like she suffered from either a recent stroke or some sort of debilitating condition (Brian's one granny has Alzheimer's and there were similarities between her and this lady).

But she just got up and danced with Joseph and Anne. Anne didn't quite know what to make of her and was a bit wary. Not Joe - he stomped with glee and they had a big dance party there together.

We weren't the only ones taking pictures and enjoying it. There were a lot of seniors there that day that laughed and clapped and told us how lovely it was to see the very old and the very young, having fun together.

It made me realise afresh how segregated our society is now. From a church perspective, I've almost always gone to churches that are primarily young families or people under 50. That's part of the reason why this Sunday at the traditional service for a local church so impacted me.


I'm a bit uncomfortable, if I'm honest, sometimes, around old people. I have a brother-in-law that is a nurse, specifically for geriatrics. I don't know if I could do that but he has a tremendous respect and love for the elderly and seems to love his job. He hears all types of stories of a life all day long and tries to restore dignity to them as they near the end of their life.

It's not that I romanticize the aged. (I've been the recipient of more than a few nasty look when the tinies aren't behaving exactly well at the grocery store.) But I honour their wisdom, their years, their presence in our community and I'm sad that I don't hang out with them more often.

In which the punishment has to fit the crime AKA I win one

My daughter loves her clothes. She likes to change a few, oh, dozen times a day if we let her. She even changes panties a few times a day. She just likes her clothes.

Anne washes her clothes. In her room. With any available water she can find. Then she spreads her absolutely soaked clothes on the (new!) carpet or stuffs them into her little Dora suitcase to pretend she's going to Granny's house for a sleep over.

It's absolutely infuriating.

Initially, we let her have a little glass of water in her room in case she was thirsty during the night. But that was swiftly removed when it became apparent that she was stuffing her panties into the little cup in an effort to "wash" them. We would come into her room to gloat over her at night and be confronted with soaking wet clothes, laid out on the carpet, hung from hangers all over her room and a suitcase stuffed with wet clothes. One day, I didn't realise she'd started to stuff the wet clothes into her suitcase until I had to investigate the mouldy smell from her closet. Ta da! Balled up, formerly wet socks!

Then she began sneaking out of her room after bedtime, headed right into the washroom to soak her clothes in the sink before going back to her room, leaving a trail of water behind her.

Subtlety has never been the strong suit of the not-quite-four set, has it? CSI isn't exactly required.

I had reached the end of my tether with it. It turned from a silly thing she was doing ("Isn't that sweet? She wants to do laundry like her mother....erm....father!") to willful disobedience that was making me upset

The plain truth was that she liked to do it, knew it was wrong and kept doing it anyway. She'd get in trouble, stop for a while and then start up again once she figured the coast was clear.

This is where the creativity has to come into play. Usually, when Anne does something wrong, if we correct her, she'll adjust. There are, of course, other things that are a constant two steps forward, one step back like her complete inability to say hello to strangers (cue: ducking head and looking bashful) or respond to anyone if she just plain doesn't feel like it so we're working on, you know, manners.

Anyway, I came in one morning to find, again, her clothing soaked and strewn about the room. She had woken up at dawn, come into my room, taken my cup of water from my bedside table, trotted back to her room and washed her clothes, laying them out, soaking wet on the new carpet.

I was angry.

I did the usual dance of rage - what were you thinking? You're being disobedient! You knew this was wrong and did it anyway! What do you have to say for yourself? - all of which seemingly went in one ear and out the other.

Don't you love when you are talking to your children, knowing that they are literally not hearing a single word you are saying?

It's awesome.

And Mum? Sorry about doing that all the time to you.


Suddenly, it was like a light bulb went off. One of my favourite parenting books (and believe me, I'm pretty A) picky and B) picky) is "Grace Based Parenting" by Dr. Tim Kimmel. In it, he wrote about parenting your children the way God parents you, which is something I've written about before. But one bit that suddenly occurred to me in that moment was that once your kid is old enough to understand consequences, you make them fit the crime.

So I went to her room and very calmly told her that because I could not trust her with her clothes, her clothes were moving. To my room.

Cue weeping and gnashing of teeth. Oh, there ain't no show like a not-quite-four-year-olds show.

Unmoved, I packed up her little dresser of clothes, picked up all of the dresses on their hangers and set it all up in my room. Brian sat back looking impressed, Good idea, babe and all that.

Now it was making sense to her...if I wash my clothes, I lose my clothes! And that sucks! (Or it would "suck" if she knew that word which she doesn't because it is, in fact, banned in the house along with "stupid" and "shut up" and "fart" and "butt" and a lot of other words that just lit up the search engines on crazies.) Anyway, it worked.

The consequence of her disobedience now outweighed the fun of the act itself.

For days, she had to come into my room to get dressed. She couldn't pick out her own clothes. She had to wear the same thing - all day long! The consequences of her disobedience just went on and on.

It was delightful.

Finally, we sat down in her room. I asked her why she didn't have her clothes in her room. Sure, enough, she repeated back exactly what had previously gone in one ear and out the other - I disobeyed you and washed my clothes. It was wrong, Mummy. So I told her about trust and told her I would trust her with her clothes again. But if she ever did that again, her clothes would be in my room for a month. Period.

So far, her clothes have stayed dry. And I haven't had to give up any of the premium closet space.

(Bit off topic, but if you are reading this through email or a reader, you might want to click through. I did a bit of reorganizing of the site and am now accepting sponsors - look at me, trying to be a real blogger, five years into it.)

In which the sun sets on an early summer night

All straight out of the camera, no editing required.

Because God is just good like that.

In which we ran away to Seattle for a few days

I don't know if anyone noticed but I was rather unplugged last week. I didn't blog and my Twitter feed became rather dead to the world until the weekend as well.

The great news is this: Brian got a job! HallelujahthankyouJesusandallthat. After nearly three months of being unemployed, he received three job offers in one weekend. Truthfully, he's rather taken aback by the favour he's received and is quite excited about the challenge of his new position. It's still in the restoration/construction sector but he's in business development now. He's quite thrilled and I am thrilled for him (and for the company car....can I get an AMEN?).

Now I'm back to two days a week, he's back to full time and hopefully, all will return to something resembling a routine. Or something like that.

So because he's starting a new job, he won't be taking holidays until Christmas time.

That, coupled with my general lethargy and ennui the past few days and general sense of 'being a big fat whiny baby' (hey, we all have those days, right? RIGHT?!) combined until we just spur-of-the-moment checked Expedia for a quick deal on a hotel in Seattle, packed the tinies and left the city - all within about an hour.


We had a lovely few days. Seattle is one of my favourite American cities (up there with Austin, Texas). I like funky cities with good people watching and a laid back vibe. I'm a western kid myself so that's just how we roll; flip-flops are always appropriate attire.

Joseph (sleepy boy who had just woken up) and me at the restaurant from Sleepless in Seattle. One of my favourite movies and one of the best scenes "Tiramisu? What is that? A woman's going to want me to do that to her and I won't even know what it is!"

We primarily spent our day there at Pike's Market, browsing around and being together.


Whenever we go to the States now, we also like to hit up Barnes and Nobles since their bargain shelves are my happy place. I came home with stacks of new books to read and deep joy in my heart. We tried Target but alas, were completely overwhelmed by all the STUFF in that store and had to admit defeat. We also tried to participate in "Outlet Shopping" but discovered we couldn't hack it. We may be the only people in the first world that went to both Target and the outlet malls but didn't buy a single thing there.

We picked a hotel with a pool which made the tinies so incredibly happy that we quickly realised we could have booked a Motel 8 in Richmond as long as it had a pool because that was their MOST FUN EVER.

It was their first time in a hotel and Anne kept calling it "the home-tel" which is unbelievably adorable. It also meant that we have now joined the legions of parents that swear never to sleep in a hotel room all together again because the tinies, despite being bone-tired, spent two hours every night popping out of bed, simply tickled at being all together and refusing to sleep. Brian and I were huddled in the bed, in the pitch dark, at 1o o'clock watching The Daily Show on the computer with our headphones on trying not to wake the FINALLY sleeping tinies.

"This is the life," he said without the slightest hint of irony.

We had a lovely time and were utterly exhausted when we arrived back home on Friday. Brian came down with a head cold and now resembles Rudolph.

Two very exhausted tinies, sleeping on the drive home.
(P.S. Look at that boy's meaty little paws. Love, love, love!)

Home again, home again.

(As a note, I've disabled the Disqus comment system. My comments have been waaaaay down this past few weeks and I received a few emails from people saying that they were unable to post a comment due to Disqus issues. So I've returned to the Blogger comment system even though I'm unable to respond to each comment individually now. I'm also contemplating a move to Wordpress now. *sigh* But thank you for your patience and for your comments - I love to read your take on things.)

In which I could never get enough of this boy

A tired out Joseph, sleeping in the Ergo, while we were in Seattle.

I will never tire of his weight on me,
his blonde head right above my heart,
his hands in my hair.

In which we have owls

When we first realised we had owls, we were thrilled. Owls are wise, right? We are now so close to nature that we have owls in our backyard and it was cool. They landed on our back fence, during the daytime and stayed for a few afternoons. It was delightful and we took pictures.

That was until last night, when two HUGE owls landed on my back porch, peered in the window at me and silently studied me for AN HOUR. They kept hooting and squawking, moving their heads in those odd circles like they were hunting. You know...hunting ME.

I couldn't figure out if it was cool or scary.

I think I landed on scary.

Then they spread their enormous wings and flew away.

And if there is anything more eerie and other-worldly than a huge owl taking flight in the twilight, I haven't yet found it.

Of course, they could have just been delivering my invitation to Hogwarts. My bad.

In which this is Brian, being a Dad

Joseph calls him "Yaddy" and Anne calls him "Daddy" or just plain "Dad."

They live in the reality of his love.
He is a straight path for them to follow,
never an obstacle.
I am content, at peace, knowing that for them,
just as it has been for me,
it will never be hard for them to understand God as "Abba"
or to relate to God as a Father.
They know what a Daddy is and
oh, it's a safe place of unconditional love and joy.











..



.

But the best gift he's given these tinies?

He's loved their mother well.

As Anne has said often, Happy Father's Day, Bri.
So thankful to do life with you.

(this was written in the spirit of this post)