Shlub

"Oh Danggedit."  That's what Fiona says now when she does something she doesn't like by accident.  Guess I've been saying the variant of that a lot lately, though it does make me realise I have cut down on hardcore swearing, so there's a plus.  It's raining, slowly washing away the snow and replacing the sludge with more sludge.  It was snowing heavily last night as I was driving home from book club, obliviously driving away from my lost debit card.

This morning, after I had already picked out things to buy at the bakery, I realized my debit card was missing.  I was instantly angry at Dave because he had taken it out of my wallet A.G.A.I.N. without telling me!!! Thankfully I had some cash--that I was supposed to use to pay a lady for clothes I was buying from her, which now I was short a few.  Ugh.  I immediately texted Dave "Did you take the debit?!!!"  And the clothes lady texted back with a "?"..."Ooops, that was for my husband :) ".....Then I called him, angrily, and yelled, which always makes people, especially husbands, want to be sympathetic of your stress and help you.  Then I realized I had used it last, as in last night, late, so he couldn't have done it.  Ooops.  Danggedit.  It must be me.    I was frantic, because I am anal about that card, and I always put it back in the slot in my wallet where it goes (but that slot is getting loose...), so THEN I knew it had to have fallen out somewhere....in the snow....in town.  I yelled all of this at my husband.  He told me to stop being hateful and he would deal with it.  He did, deal with it.  He called the co-op, it had fallen down the side of the cash register, he went and picked it up, using up his lunch break to go to town and back.

The "funny" thing is, I was late for a Bible study with a friend--rushing to get everything done so as not to be late.  We are studying a book that tries to guide us into better parenting.....hmmmm...maybe I need a marriage one next.  I feel like I'm actually becoming a better parent, and a worse spouse.  Double ugh.  We will have been married for 10 years on April 8.  I am so desperately looking forward to our anniversary trip--a trip just for us, not business, not Fiona, not other family, for a few days all to ourselves.  Blessedly, Dave's parents are graciously watching Fiona--she can't wait, and wants to go tomorrow.  I am thirsting for this trip, this time to reconnect, to remember that I was a wife first, and just to be his for a few days, to be each other's "person."

Until then I will keep praying for him, I'm pretty sure I've missed a day since the start of Lent, already. I'm going to do that now, and greet him first at the door tonight, and smile.

Putting On

The Starbucks New Mexico mug is my favourite.  I have quite a few Starbucks city & state mugs, and I love them all, but N.M. is my first love.  Every time I look at that mug, drink its steaming contents with a splash Starbucks caramel flavouring (no they are not paying me for all this advertising, but I wouldn't be against it), I think back to when I got it.  I think of that road trip where I really met my two sisters--one younger, one older.  Setting up the tent in the state park, we left the fly off because it was so warm. In the warmth, we decided to head for a night swim in the lake.  We ran down the boat ramp--three skinny girls in our bathings suits--right past the "no swimming" sign.  It was cold; we shrieked and took pictures and finally dove in for a quick lap out and back.  The fishermen on the dock laughed, and said they wouldn't tell, they were fishing beside a "no fishing" sign after all.  I think of the rabbits that kept running in front of our headlights as we went back to our campsite.  And always the millions of stars I looked up to as we lay in our sleeping bags that night.  I had never seen so many stars.  I would not think of that night so often if I didn't have this mug.  I would not think of how blessed I am to have two amazing sisters, and one very memorable adventure, just the three of us.  You two are absolutely stunning you know--don't forget it--God made you fabulous, and I'm so glad you are mine :).

I've decided not to give up alcohol for Lent--there are just too many drinking holidays during this 40 day period.  In all seriousness, I have decided to "put on" a few things.  First, I'm going to write every day.  Whether that be a letter, a journal entry, a love note, or a blog, just some form of writing every day to bring Him glory because he gave me joy in writing, and he loves when I am joyful! Second, I'm going to be more outward reaching--meeting people for coffee, or inviting people over, or just stopping and having a chat--all is welcome.  And lastly, I'm going to pray every day with and for my husband.  I love him, and I want to connect with his heart more, and prayer is a great place to start.  So there it is, my Lent plan.  Ask me how it's going--I'd love to chat!  Now I gotta finish my coffee before it gets cold...again.

Lent, Not the Fuzzy Stuff

This Wednesday starts the Lenten period with Ash Wednesday.  Growing up, I wasn't in tradition-based churches.  The only thing I knew about Lent was that my Grandmother celebrated it, so I figured it was a Lutheran thing.

The first church Dave and I immersed ourselves in when we got married was The Grove (at that time Franklin Grove Baptist Church--it later dropped "Franklin" and "Baptist," and became a non-denominational church).  Pastors also changed, and the new pastor brought new traditions, but also an opening of the church doors to flow out into the community more than into itself.

The outdoor centre where I was working wasn't too keen on Christians, as we tend to be relatively normal in our humanity, and screw things up quite often.  I was no different.  People there knew somewhat that I was Christian; I asked for Sunday mornings off if it was a possibility, and didn't get smashed and high every weekend, but other than that I wasn't too different.  People were generous there--inviting you to enjoy what they had even though it usually wasn't much--hippies are cool that way.  They taught me to be confident in my skin, my abilities.  But though they were open to belief in living the good life--being spiritual within nature and their own bodies--they weren't sure about church (unless it was their definition, smoking pot by the lake on Sunday mornings).  The Grove started to change that feeling.

The Grove started to serve down at the outdoor centre: serving meals when there were staff celebrations and having their band play good music.  Generally being around, meeting people, showing up to live life with people.  And not only at the outdoor centre, but in town too.   They served hotdogs and chips during the Halloween celebration.  They did a big production and free meal at the school gymnasium for Thanksgiving dinner.  The band won best float in the Christmas parade one year--I think that was the year of the Grinch theme, or maybe Charlie Brown.  A room in the church upstairs was filled with baby gear--clothes, diapers, blankets, cribs, etc, to give to families that needed them.  And during the time leading up to Easter, it asked people to do something different.

So Lent begins this Wednesday.  Lent is supposed to be a time of fasting--mirroring the forty days of fasting Jesus did in the desert, when Satan tempted him, but He withstood the temptations.  The first year The Grove talked about Lent, I decided to fast two things I liked very much--celebrity gossip & coke (aka all soda in The South).  I spent way too much time on celebrity gossip sites and magazines, and it was a wonderful thing to get out of that habit--at the end of the forty days it didn't come back.  Coke did, but in moderation.  That time was my first taste of giving something up for Lent.  But the next few years of Lent involved a bit more effort.  The Grove started to ask people not just to give something up, but to be more God-focused in their Lenten activities.  It asked them to research charities and give to one.  Invite people over for a meal once a week.  Do without a shower at least once a week, praying for those without clean water, and giving to those causes.  It asked us not to text or use our cell on certain days--to do everything personally, and talk to new people.

Every year since I have moved away from the mountains of North Carolina where The Grove Church is, I have looked at their Lenten calendar, and tried to implement as many of the things they asked of their congregation as possible.  This year I return to thinking about that calendar.

I thought about just giving up alcohol for Lent--I've been drinking more since I moved to the U.K.  Probably because it's more accepted here, and not the least because I have a toddler now who's constant energy and chatty communication drives me to the drink by 8 pm.  I think it would be a healthy abstinence, but I'm not sure I would really be giving it up for the right reasons.  Dave is thinking about giving up coffee, good on him, I'm not doing that.  We considered maybe being more active during this time, walking or exercising, yoga-ing every day--but that seems more like a New Year's Resolution than Lent.  I want to pray more, write more, exercise more, give more to people---maybe I'll do it all, but I'll probably check The Grove's calendar for ideas.

Whatever I decide, I want to make this time holy.  Focusing on giving of myself, meditating on the scriptures, and being Christ to people in the every day, even if that's just paying for coffee for someone who needs it.  It definitely will include trying to be a more loving, grace-filled mom to a loving, life-filled little girl.

Home...

Sometimes I wonder if I can ever truly be myself here.  I try to be myself, but lighter--like S. Africa's Coke Light.  Something that is me, but probably more of a heavy shadow.  I know how people feel about the U.S.A.  I didn't know until I was twenty.  The first time I really understood how "the world" felt about us, I was a gappie in Ontario Canada.  They "learned me good."  I was defensive at first, only thinking of the way I was brought up, and the things I believed about my country.  Then I started to swing the other way.  When I was home I could see how other people saw it, but they could never experience it like someone from there--someone like me.  It hurts to realize you have started to despise yourself, your country, because others do.  It hurts to see and hear yourself diminish it to nothing--its accomplishments, its progressions, its humanity.  America is me--I am from there, it is a part of me like every person who was born somewhere, who's from somewhere.  My nationality is American.  Even if I gave up my citizenship, which I don't plan on ever doing, I would be from there.  It is like family.  I know it can do amazing things, loving things, good things, but bad ones too.  I know there are lots of gun-toting bigots, but there are lots of gun-toting servants too--those who hand out food and money and clothing to those who need it, those who give up themselves every day to those who don't know them.  We like stuff--lots of stuff, but sometimes we give away lots of stuff too.  I know we like to promote old white men, but we're realizing that the colors of the rainbow can rule the world.  But sometimes I am sad, sad that everyone can't see the things I love about my country, and the things that make be proud to be me.  I'm sad I can't be loud and rambunctious and lively not be called an "arrogant loud-ass American."

I just read this passage tonight, and I'm going to quote it in its entirety, because it brought me to tears with its feeling of loss--real loss of who you are.  The book is called We Need New Names.

Look at the children of the land leaving in droves, leaving their own land with bleeding wounds on their bodies and shock on their faces and blood in their hearts and hunger in their stomachs and grief in their footsteps.  Leaving their mothers and father and children behind, leaving their umbilical cords underneath the soil, leaving the bones of their ancestors in the earth, leaving everything that makes them who and what they are, leaving because it is no longer possible to stay.  They will never be the same again because you just cannot be the same once you leave behind who and what you are, you just cannot be the same.

Look at them leaving in droves despite knowing they will be welcomed with restraint in those strange lands because they do not belong, knowing they will have to sit on one buttock because they must not sit comfortable lest they be asked to rise and leave, knowing they will speak in dampened whispers because they must not let their voices drown those of the owners of the land, knowing they will have to walk on their toes because they must not leave footprints on the new earth lest they be mistaken for those who want to claim the land as theirs.  Look at them leaving in droves, ar in arm with loss and lost, look at them leaving in droves. (p. 146)

I love this new place.  Its beauty inspires me every day.  But I know in my bones where my heart sighs, my bones lighten, my memory returns year after year.  My mountains, my rivers, my trees, my coffee shops.  They are part of me--who I am.  I can live somewhere else, but I cannot become someone else with happiness.  The land is in me; it is me. take me as I am dear friends, take me as I am.