The Koala Bear Writer

Books of the Apocrypha: Esther

2012-01-30T07:15:00.000-07:00

Esther is likely one of the best-known stories of the Bible, thanks in part to several novels and movies. Like Judith, Esther tells the story of how one woman cooperated with God to save the Jewish people during a time of dire need. In the Apocrypha, we find an expanded version of the book of Esther.

If you aren't familiar with the story, here's the very brief version: King Artaxerxes throws a huge party and invites Queen Vashti to show off her beauty. She refuses, he gets mad and deposes her and starts looking for a new queen. Esther, the beautiful young cousin of Mordecai, wins Artaxerxes' beauty contest, but keeps her Jewish identity secret. Mordecai's refusal to bow down to Haman, the king's right-hand man, causes Haman to plot to kill him—and the entire Jewish people. The king likes Haman's plan and signs an order to exterminate all the Jews in Persia. Mordecai begs Esther to approach her new husband. Despite fearing for her life, Esther does so, winning the king's favour again and saving the Jews.

Because the Common English Bible includes the Apocrypha as a section by itself between the Old and New Testaments, it has two versions of Esther. I thus found it interesting to flip back and forth between the versions, comparing various passages. For example, Hebrew Esther says: "Mordecai had been a father to Hadassah (that is, Esther), though she was really his cousin, because she had neither father nor mother. The girl had a beautiful figure and was lovely to look at. When her parents died, Mordecai had taken her to be his daughter" (2:7). The Greek Esther says: "Mordecai had a foster child named Esther, a daughter of his uncle Aminadab. When her parents died, Mordecai had taken her and raised her to become his wife. The girl was lovely to look at" (2:7).

The biggest differences between the two books are the "Additions." Greek Esther starts with a strange dream Mordecai has before he overhears a plan by two eunuchs to kill the king, and adds the fact that Haman is mad at Mordecai because those eunuchs are killed for treason. Other additions include two decrees from Artaxerxes, a prayer by Mordecai and Esther, more details about Esther's appearance before Artaxerxes, and Mordecai's interpretation of his dream.

The New Jerusalem Bible explains that the "Greek additions are more religious in tone . . . but they only state explicitly what the Hebrew author left to his reader's intelligence." For example, we might notice similarities between Esther's story and Joseph's in Genesis (both were common people raised to positions of power to help their people in time of need). The New Jerusalem Bible points out, "In the Genesis story of Joseph, God makes no outward manifestation of his power, yet directs events. In the Hebrew book of Esther, similarly, though God's name is not mentioned, his providence governs every factor in the drama. The actors know it, and trust implicitly in God to work out his saving plan even if his chosen human instruments falter."

For more information on The Common English Bible, check out this interview with the associate publisher. You can also check out the CEB videos.

Book Review: The Gospel Story Bible by Marty Machowski

2012-01-27T07:26:00.007-07:00

The Gospel Story Bible, written by Marty Machowski and illustrated by A. E. Macha, is a beautiful, hardcover book with thick, glossy pages intended to help children discover Jesus in the Old and New Testaments. Funky, colourful pictures accompany each of the 156 stories and "Let's Talk About It!" questions help parents dig deeper into the story with their children.

Machowski says, "“The gospel is deep enough to keep the oldest and wisest parents learning and growing all their lives, yet simple enough to change the heart of the first grader who has just begun to read. That’s what makes The Gospel Story Bible ideal as a storybook for a preschooler, a devotional for a grade school student, a refresher for the adult believer or an introduction for the new one. Parents and children will learn together to read the whole Bible as one story, with one hero—Jesus Christ.”

The author includes a page of suggestions for using The Gospel Story Bible with your children, either as a storybook for preschoolers or a devotional for young grade school children. I found that while my daughters enjoyed the pictures, they soon lost interest when I began reading. The Bible is based on the ESV translation and I had to do a lot of paraphrasing to help them understand the stories.

For example, Marty explains how the rainbow appeared after the flood: "Then God made a special promise to Noah, his sons, and all who would come after them. God called the promise a covenant. God said he would never again send a flood to destroy the earth. God put a rainbow in the sky as a sign of his promise." At the end of this story, Marty adds, "Did you know that when God saved Noah in the ark, it was part of his plan to save us? That is true because one day Jesus, our Savior, would be born as a far-off grandchild in Noah's family. There was only one way to be saved from the waters of the flood: you had to go through the door of the ark. And there is only one way to be saved from our sin. Jesus said, 'I am the way' (John 14:6). The next time you see a rainbow in the sky, don't just remember the way God saved Noah. Remember Jesus and the way his death brought salvation to us."

I like the way each story points out God's plan of salvation. There is always a connection between the Old Testament and the New Testament, as well as important lessons to be learned from the stories, and Marty brings these alive. In a few years, The Gospel Story Bible will be a great resource for bedtime stories or Bible lessons with Sunshine and Lilibet.

Do you read Bible stories with your children? What has helped you teach your faith values to your children?

This book was provided for review by the B&B Media Group.

10 Commandments for a Happy Marriage

2012-01-25T12:53:00.001-07:00

These "10 Commandments" were among the resources we received at our Marriage Encounter weekend a couple years ago. I stuck it to my bulletin board as a reminder to myself, along with the prayer below. Like the 10 Commandments God gave Moses, these commandments are impossible to live up to on our own; thankfully, we can count on God's grace (and our spouse's, hopefully) to forgive us and encourage us as we keep striving for a better marriage.

1. You shall not take your spouse for granted.
2. You shall not expect perfection of each other.
3. You shall be patient, loving, understanding, kind and true.
4. You shall tend the garden of love daily.
5. You shall take great care that your spouse's trust is never violated or diminished in any way.
6. You shall not forget your wedding vows, remembering especially those important words "for better or worse."
7. You shall not hide true feelings. Mutual love provides a bright sunlit room where things of the heart can be discussed freely and without fear.
8. You shall always respect each other as individuals. Degrading words and a sharp tongue cause grave distortions. Endearing terms enable, lift up and create peace.
9. You will give your marriage room to grow. Both of you should be willing to face the future together with confidence and trust. Today is a better day for you than yesterday and tomorrow will find you closer still.
10. You shall, through all your days, reverence God your creator, never forgetting that it is he who has made you.

Prayer for Wives

Lord, inspire us who bear the title wife. Help me to look to you, to myself, to my husband, to rediscover the fullness and joy I once felt in my union. Let me be honest enough to ask, "Where have we been together and where are we going?" Let me be brave enough to ask, "How have I failed?" Let me be foolhardy enough to say, "For us, we come first." Help us together to re-examine our commitment in the light of your love, willingly, openly, and compassionately. Help my husband and I to believe how fragile, yet how powerful, how weak yet how strong, how impossible, yet attainable our love can be. Give husbands and wives the courage to be for each other a person rather than a title. Amen.

For more great marriage advice and tips, drop by Sheila's blog:

A Soother Sequel

2012-01-23T11:36:00.002-07:00

I stared at my computer screen, then at the story laying beside my keyboard, and tried to think of what else I should tell the author to help her revise her story. Just outside the den door, the girls played with their stuffies and strollers. As I put my hands back to my keyboard, a wail arose from Lilibet. I drew in a deep breath when Sunshine responded with a wail of her own. I glanced at the clock. 4 pm.

Instead of trying to sort out who'd done what, I asked, "Do you girls want to go for a walk?"

The wailing stopped. Then enthusiastic shouts erupted and they made a beeline for the door. We all needed to get out of the house. I was going cross-eyed from staring at the computer and they were getting bored with each other's company. Lilibet had been resisting all attempts to be put down for a nap lately, but perhaps she'd fall asleep on a walk.

I saved my file, turned off the computer, and followed them down the hallway. In a few minutes, we'd found socks, donned coats, and stepped outside. I lifted Lilibet into the Ergo and put Sunshine in the stroller and we set off down the path. Within five minutes of walking and sucking her soother, Lilibet was fast asleep. Sunshine talked for about ten minutes longer, commenting on the passing scenery and the joggers and the birds we saw, and then also fell silent. I kept up my speed-walk pace, steering her stroller around mud puddles and over curbs, and enjoyed the silence and fresh air.

As we came around the last corner of the trail, Lilibet woke up and began howling. Her soother had disappeared. I had no idea how long ago it had fallen out of her mouth, so I wasn't going back for it. Sunshine began whining as well, and I told them, "We're almost home. Just hang in there." They didn't want to trade places, so I kept walking, now feeling like whining myself. At home, I got them snacks and started making supper and thought about the soother problem.

We had two other soothers in the house (pictured above), but Lilibet refused to use them. She had one favourite soother - the one I'd bought when I melted her other soothers - and that was the only soother she'd accept. I'd noticed, in the months before losing this soother, that she was using it much less. It stayed on top of the wardrobe by her crib, and most nights she went to sleep by nursing and didn't even use the soother. So maybe it didn't matter that the soother was gone.

That was about a month before Christmas. Other than one night with Daddy, when Lilibet wanted her soother and he couldn't find it because I'd forgotten to mention it got lost (clearly I wasn't very worried about it), she hasn't really missed it. Even when Grandma gave her a soother at Christmas, Lilibet just looked at it. In a way, I find myself relieved it didn't turn into the big fight we had with Sunshine to get rid of her soother. In other ways, it makes me notice how much my baby girl is growing up.

Book Review: Happily Ever After by Gary Chapman

2012-01-19T11:35:00.002-07:00

Whether or not you've read Gary Chapman's book The Five Love Languages, you likely know about his ideas that each of us has a specific way of showing and receiving love. Dr. Chapman's book has become a classic, recognized even by secular counselors. I read it a few years ago and appreciated his advice, so when I saw his new book Happily Ever After: Six Secrets to a Successful Marriage, I eagerly started reading.

In this book, Dr. Chapman "shows couples how to successfully navigate the six most common problems that couples face: fighting fair, negotiating change, managing money, getting along with your in-laws, raising kids, and maintaining a healthy sex life. Drawing on more than 30 years of counseling experience, Dr. Chapman provides real-world examples and practical, battle-tested advice that will help you and your spouse better understand and communicate with each other as well as grow as a couple for many years to come."

My husband and I started reading this book together on our drive back from Alberta. Each chapter of the book is short (three or four pages), making it easy to take the book in "bite-size chunks" (or grab a few minutes to read together at the end of a busy day). You can read the book from start to finish or jump in at whatever topic interests you; after reading the first section with my husband, I flipped to the chapters on raising kids because we've had a few discipline issues lately with Sunshine. I found Dr. Chapman's advice refreshing, encouraging, and practical. Each chapter ends with specific tips for applying the advice to your life.

In one chapter, Dr. Chapman talked about meeting a couple at one of his conferences who had been married for 52 years. He was surprised that such marriage veterans would still be attending marriage conferences together. They said they'd read his book and wanted to hear him speak, because they'd "made it a practice to attend a marriage enrichment weekend every year." Dr. Chapman responded, "If every couple made the commitment to ... continue growing by attending marriage enrichment events and reading books on marriage, we would see a radical change in the marriages of this generation."

May I encourage and challenge you, whether you're starting out in marriage like my husband and I, or a veteran of marriage like this couple, to keep investing in your relationship together. Happily Ever After is sure to bless you and your spouse, whatever stage of life you are in.

For more information and marriage advice, you can check out Gary Chapman's website or "friend" him on Facebook. What is the best piece of marriage advice you've ever received? Do you and your spouse attend marriage weekends or read marriage books together?

This book was provided for review courtesy of Tyndale House Publishers.

Books of the Apocrypha: Judith

2012-01-16T11:38:00.003-07:00

Caravaggio's painting of Judith

Back when we were dating, my husband said I should Judith; I'd like it, he said, because it was about a strong, godly woman. Ruth, Esther and Judith are the only books of the Bible named after women.

Judith opens with a lot of scene-setting. Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Assyrians, and Arphaxad, king of the Medes, are at war; Nebuchadnezzar defeats Arphaxad and, angry at all the nations who refused to join him in his war against the Medes, begins planning revenge. He sends his general Holofernes to sack the surrounding countries, which Holofernes does. When the Israelites heard about this, they "were especially terrified of his coming and were anxious about the safety of Jerusalem and the temple of the Lord their God. They had just recently returned from captivity in exile. All the people of Judea had only just gathered together again, and the temple together with its altar and equipment had been newly dedicated to God" (Judith 4:2-3 CEB).

While the Israelites pray and fast, their resistance is reported to Holofernes. Angry at their preparations for war, he asks someone to tell him more about them. Achior, leader of the Ammonites, steps forward with a very interesting history of Israel, beginning with the way Abraham and his children "lived as strangers in Mesopotamia because they weren’t willing to follow the gods of their ancestors in the land of Chaldea" (5:7), through the history of Moses and the Egyptians, to their occupation of Canaan. In summary, Achior says, "As long as they didn’t sin against their God, they prospered, because the God who hates wrongdoing was with them. But when they neglected the way God had laid out for them, they were greatly defeated in many battles and taken as prisoners to a foreign land. The temple of their God was burned to the ground, and their enemies took possession of their cities" (5:17-18). Achior thus says that unless the Isrealites have sinned against God, they won't be defeated, but Holofernes and his generals don't like this advice, and so they had Achior over to the Israelites.

Holofernes ten lays siege to the Israelite town of Bethuliah. The Israelites pray and fast for 34 days, until their water runs out. Then the people, in despair, demand that their rulers surrender to the Assyrians. Finally, Judith enters the scene. Widowed three years ago, she is rich and beautiful and "no one had a bad word to say about her, for she revered God greatly" (8:8). Hearing that the leaders plan to surrender because God hasn't answered their prayers yet, she goes to them and says, "You can question the Lord Almighty, but you won’t ever learn anything. You can’t sound the depths of a person’s heart or comprehend the thoughts of that person’s mind. How then will you search out God, who made all these things? How will you understand God’s mind and comprehend God’s thoughts?" (8:13-14)

She urges the people to keep praying and asks for three days to "do something that will be remembered for generations to come" (8:32). She then offers a long, beautiful prayer to God, dresses herself in her most beautiful garments, and sneaks out of the city with her maidservant to walk into the Assyrian camp. Because of her beauty and her words, she's taken straight to Holofernes. She tells him that the Israelites are starving and thirsty and desperate, about to commit a sin that will make them easy prey to the Assyrian army. Holofernes just has to wait until she tells him to attack, and then the victory will be his. He likes this advice and agrees to let her stay in his camp; he even gives her free passage to leave the camp every evening to pray.

Four days later, Holofernes throws a huge party and invites Judith to join him so he can seduce her. In his excitement, he drinks "more than he had ever drunk in any single day since the day he was born" (12:20). At the end of the night, he sends all his generals and servants away so that he's alone with Judith. By that time, he's so drunk he doesn't notice that Judith kneels to pray before picking up his sword and chopping off his head. She puts his head in her bag, gets her servant, and walks out of the camp to pray just as she has for the past three nights - but this time she goes straight back to Betuliah, where she shows the leaders Holofernes' head.

You can probably guess what happens next. The Israelites hang Holofernes head on their wall and prepare for war. Achior, seeing what Judith has done, converts to Judaism. The Assyrians are amazed that the Israelites are preparing for war and go to wake their leader, only to discover his headless body. Panic ensues and the Assyrians flee with the Israelites in fast pursuit. The Israelites grow rich from plundering the Assyrian army. Judith offers a hymn of praise and lives to 105, though she never remarries.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Judith; there are beautiful hymns and prayers throughout the book, along with a good dose of suspense (even if you know that God will rescue His people) and fervent expressions of faith. The story of Judith reminded me of the story of Jael in Judges.

Historically, the book seems to come after Tobit and Nehemiah. However, as the New Jerusalem Bible explains, the writer of Judith "shows a bland indifference to history and geography." Nebuchadnezzar was king of Babylon, not Assyria; Bethuliah "defies identification" in real life; and the story includes both Persian names and Greek customs. This book isn't meant to be read as a history; rather, the "author seems deliberately to have defied history to distract the reader's attention from the historical context and focus it exclusively on the religious conflict and outcome. The narrative is neatly put together and has a close affinity with apocalyptic writings."

"Like" the Common English Bible Facebook page for updates about the CEB as well as free downloads of some favourite Scriptures in beautiful calligraphy. There are also free downloads and audio recordings of the Common English Bible available on the website.

Seven Quick Takes of Classes

2012-01-13T09:15:00.001-07:00

- 1 -

Well, the first week of classes is finished. Last week, I wondered how on earth I was going to survive this semester without a mental breakdown or an F on my transcript. This week, I am actually feeling on top of things; I have all of my reading done and my critiques ready for Monday. I've felt a bit scattered coming back after Christmas holidays, but our weeks are starting to fall into a routine. Hopefully I can continue to stay on top of my homework and find time to revise my short stories before April.

- 2 -

My husband is back at law school this semester and we've managed (somewhat miraculously, I think) to get our schedules to work out so that we don't need any childcare. It does mean some creative legwork; for example, on Tuesday my husband drops Sunshine off at preschool and me off at my class and then takes Lilibet home for about an hour before walking over to his class, where I meet him after my class to take Lillibet home for about an hour before we go pick up Sunshine from preschool. Wednesday works the same without the preschool complication. Fridays are easy, as I have two classes but my husband has none.

- 3 -

This semester I'm back to a "full" course load of 3 courses; two writing classes and a course on Greek mythology. I liked just having two classes, but that created issues with the student loan people so I had to find a third class that interested me and worked with my husband's schedule and Sunshine's preschool. I always intended to take a Greek course during my first degree, as much of English literature references Greek myths, but it never fit into my schedule back then. Since we finally watched Troy a few weeks ago, I'm finding the course very interesting.

- 4 -

The other task I had last week, before classes got too busy, was to put together the February issue of FellowScript. I'm so thankful Joanna Dawyd is now helping with the editing and layout; she did most of the feature articles and several of the columns while I did the rest. We both have an article coming out in this issue as well. While I get stressed out sometimes over getting the issue ready on time, I enjoy reading all the articles and seeing the magazine come together. Last week, I sent it off to my proofreader and now I can focus on schoolwork until April, when I'll need to get started on the May issue (but that's after classes end).

- 5 -

Speaking of editing and classes... over Christmas break, I and my fellow editors read all of the submissions for This Side of West, the undergraduate literary magazine here at UVic. We had about 90 submissions overall. It was interesting to see what others are writing in creative nonfiction. I wondered what it would be like to work with two other editors to choose what gets published (I'm the sole acquisitions editor for FellowScript), but in the end our choices were pretty much unanimous. We'll be planning more readings this semester and then launching the magazine in March.

- 6 -

This year, I'm trying to make sure I make time to focus on my relationship with God. I'm still reading The Resolution for Women by Priscilla Shirer and keep the Common English Bible by my bed (reading a chapter or two in the evening helps me relax before falling asleep--too often, my brain is still whirring when my body says I need some rest). Last night as I was reading Judith, this verse jumped out at me: "You intended the current situation and the things yet to come. What you planned has occurred. The things you considered stood ready and said, ‘Here we are!’ Indeed, all your ways are prepared in advance, and your judgment is known ahead of time" (Judith 9:5-6 CEB). To me, it's encouraging to know that God knows what's happening, so that I don't need to stress out over things in my life that I can't control. I just need to trust in Him and to do what He's given me to do.

- 7 -

Sunshine doubled her colouring book collection over Christmas and got new crayons and markers as well, so we've been doing a lot of colouring lately. I bought Sunshine a set of Dora pictures that are supposed to be colour-by-number, and its cute to see Sunshine asking for the markers by number rather than colour and carefully trying to fill in the space with the right colour. She also enjoys colouring a Disney Princess book, though we haven't watched any of the movies so she keeps asking me, "Who is this princess?" Sometimes I can read while they're colouring; other times, it's just good time to spend with them, talking about the pictures we're colouring.

The girls coloured their Dora pages and put them on the wall

Preview Real Marriage by Mark and Grace Driscoll

2012-01-12T10:33:00.000-07:00

When I'm at the bookstore, I always find myself browsing the sections on parenting and marriage. That's my stage of life right now and I guess I'm curious what others have to say about it. Real Marriage by Mark and Grace Driscoll recently caught my eye, but I'm working on reading Gary Chapman's new marriage book, Happily Ever After, right now (review to come on Wednesday). So Real Marriage will have to wait for another day... but here's the first chapter, if you want to take a sneak peak like I did.

Real Marriage-Chapter 1

My New Glasses

2012-01-11T11:13:00.002-07:00

When I walked into the small classroom and headed toward my usual seat, halfway down the tables and facing the tall bank of windows that overlooked the university theatre, several heads swiveled towards me. "Hey, Bonnie! Nice haircut! I like your glasses! Those are new glasses, right? Looks good!" I smiled. I hadn't deliberately planned such a drastic change over the Christmas holidays--it was just time for a haircut and new glasses--but it was fun to see my classmates' reactions to my new look.

I got my first pair of eyeglasses when I was eleven. At the time, I was excited about them; I thought they'd make me pretty. For years, I simply replaced the lenses in my glasses each time my prescription changed. Then one year the doctor recommended new frames--smaller, lighter frames with plastic lenses. Trying to find new frames was a pain, as I couldn't see what was on my face without my prescription glasses. I remember peering in the mirror, my nose almost at the glass, but relying mostly on the opinion of Mom and the optometrist (who'd been helping me with glasses since that very first pair at age 11) to pick a new pair. Just before university, I went through that hassle again, and ended up picking a practical brown pair of glasses that included clip-on sunglasses over a funky purple pair that looked better.

Before Lilibet was born, I took advantage of having benefits from Starbucks to get a new pair of glasses. This time, I wore my contacts and took my husband along--he said I just had to look through the glasses, while he had to look at them. While Sunshine played with an old pair of frames, I worked my way through the store, trying on frames, putting them back, and getting frustrated as something that looked great on the wall just didn't suit my face. The price tags didn't help--most of the frames were at least double what Starbucks would reimburse me for. Finally, I put a pair of glasses on and took a look in the mirror, then called my husband over. When I asked what he thought, he threw the question back at me and I said, "I think I like them." He leaned closer, peering at the price tag, and started grinning. "I think I like them too!" he said.

When I admired my friend Joanna's glasses at Women of Faith, she told me she'd bought them online. I had several questions for her about that process, thinking about the hours I've spent in stores trying to find a pair of glasses I liked. How do you try on something online? When I came across GlassesUSA.com just after Lilibet broke the arm off my glasses, I decided to check it out.

It was easy to browse through the frames (and get excited over the cheap prices!), bookmark a few to show my husband later, and go do some housework. I explored at the website a few more times before deciding to buy glasses. It was easy to order--no pressure from a salesperson trying to talk me into different lenses or extra coatings or other features. I had time to look at the options available, think about it and discuss it with my husband, and then order. My glasses came in about a week and, after the usual adjustment period with a new prescription, look and feel great.

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Disclaimer: This post is a paid advertisement, but the opinions expressed are my own. I will not recommend anything to my blog friends that I haven't tried and liked myself.

Courageous Movie Coming Soon!

2012-01-10T17:02:00.001-07:00

The Courageous movie releases on DVD next Tuesday! If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. My husband and I saw it in theatre here when it opened and it was amazing to be sitting in a public venue watching a big screen movie with faith and family values. This movie is a much-needed message to our society. There are also several resources related to the movie if you are interested in further study.

Road Trips with Toddlers

2012-01-09T14:11:00.002-07:00

Packing the Jeep in Victoria

"Hey, how are you? Did you go away for Christmas?"

"Yeah, we drove back to Alberta again to see our families."

"You drove? Wow, you're brave!"

I smile. We're either brave or crazy or too cheap to get airplane tickets, but we did that long drive to Alberta and back again this year for Christmas. On my husband's last day of work, I picked him up at the office and we caught the 5 pm ferry off the Island. We made it up the Coquihalla to Merritt before Lilibet declared she'd had enough of the Jeep and we stopped at a cheap hotel for the night. The next day, we headed north from Kamloops through Jasper to my mom's place.

At one point, somewhere on Highway 5, I was driving and the girls had gotten bored. My husband began singing silly songs with them. We went through most of the songs in our repertoire before he got them into singing rounds. He'd sing "Praise ye the Lord" while they sang "Alleluia" back to him. He got bored of that before they did and started reading books to them. When they finally fell asleep, I kept driving, nibbling on candy canes and Christmas chocolates to stay awake and trying to ignore the protests coming from my right leg. Drive, we've learned, while the girls are happy; stop when they need it.

On Christmas Eve, we visited some friends in the city (who got married the weekend before we did and had their first daughter two weeks after we had Sunshine) before driving two hours to my brother's place for dinner. We planned the drive for Lilibet's nap and sure enough, she crashed a few minutes after we got into the Jeep. Sunshine, however, was less than happy with that. We spent most of the drive telling her "leave her alone" and trying to encourage her to listen to her music, read her book, or play with her Leapster. At the same time, it was cute to see how much she wanted Lilibet around to play with.

One day after Christmas, my husband and I were making plans to run some errands and visit my grandparents. Sunshine said, "Can I stay here?" I had to laugh while understanding that we spent so much time in the Jeep that of course it would be more fun to stay at Grandma and Grandpa's to play. So we ran errands and visited friends by ourselves while our daughters had some much-appreciated grandparent time.

For our drive home, we got up at 5 am, loaded sleeping girls into the Jeep, said goodbye to my husband's parents, and hit the road. My husband drove to Lake Louise; I drove to Golden, where we had breakfast with his cousins; he drove to Salmon Arm, where we played at the McDonald's and ate lunch; I drove to Hope, where we stopped for gas; he drove to the ferry. Just before and after Kamloops, Lilibet woke up screaming, fed up with the drive. The first time, she fell asleep again; the second time, I pulled over to nurse her and then we kept going.

As we drove through Vancouver, we kept our eyes on the clock, praying that we'd catch the 7 pm ferry. Like last year, we were cutting it tight, but we'd chosen to drive home on New Year's Day because the weather forecast was good and BC Ferries hadn't added extra ferries, making us expect light traffic. Then we saw the sign over the road just before the terminal: 7 pm full, 9 pm 10% full. My heart plummeted. I didn't want to sit around the terminal for 2 hours, trying to keep the girls busy while we waited. I prayed. Begged God to get us onto that ferry. At the ticket window, the lady said there was a "possible" wait for the 7 pm ferry. We clung to that hope, watched the cars drive off the ferry, prayed again, watched the cars drive on, prayed more... and breathed a sigh of relief and a huge prayer of thanks when the man waved us onto the ferry. Home again for another year.

For more tips on doing long drives with toddlers, see my article on Untrained Housewife.

Books of the Apocrypha: Tobit

2012-01-08T07:56:00.005-07:00

The book of Tobit is usually the first listed in the Apocrypha and tells the story of a Jewish family in the Babylonian/Assyrian captivity. I first read it when my husband and I were dating; he described it to me as a love story and wanted to choose a portion of Tobit for one of the readings at our wedding. When I received my copy of the new Common English Bible and was trying to decide where to read, I thought I'd start with the Apocrypha, a portion of the Bible I'm not yet very familiar with.

The book of Tobit begins with an introduction of the author—his genealogy and where he was captured by the Assyrians. Tobit then tells us about his character: "I, Tobit, was trustworthy and behaved righteously during my entire life. I would help support my relatives and others of my country who were captured and taken with me to Nineveh in the country of the Assyrians" (1:3 CEB). Tobit talks about worshiping God at the temple in Jerusalem during his youth, even though most of his relatives had started worshiping the golden calf set up by King Jeroboam.

Tobit marries Anna and has a son named Tobias. In Assyria, he stands up for what he believes, just as Daniel did: "I, however, avoided eating the Gentiles’ food. Because I kept God in view with all my heart, the Most High gave me favor and good standing before Shalmaneser, and I would buy for him everything he needed." (1:11-13). He also continues his pious acts by giving to the poor and providing a proper burial for any Jews killed by the Assyrians. For doing this, he is persecuted by the Assyrians and loses his possessions until a new ruler comes into power.

Despite his good works, Tobit becomes blind and gives in to despair. While he is praying for God to take his life, a young woman named Sarah is also praying for death in far away Media. She has been married seven times, but each time her bridegroom has been killed on their wedding night by an evil demon. The Book of Tobit becomes the story of God working in unusual ways to answer these two prayers: "At that very moment, the prayers of both Sarah and Tobit were heard in God’s glorious presence. Raphael was sent to heal the two of them." (3:16-17)

Tobit remembers that he once left some money with a relative in Media. He sends his son Tobias to collect this money, but since Tobias has never traveled that far before, he needs a companion. A man named Raphael seems to suit this need, and so Tobias and Raphael set off for Media. Tobit's father gives him a long blessing, full of fatherly advice, before they leave.

Once in Media, Raphael suggests to Tobias that they stay with his relative Raguel and tells Tobias about Raguel's daughter Sarah and her seven dead husbands. Just as Boaz was Ruth's kinsmen-redeemer, it seems that Tobias is in a similar position to help Sarah. Raphael tells Tobit, "The right to inherit her and her father’s estate is yours. The girl is sensible, courageous, and very beautiful; moreover, her father loves her and is a good man.” (6:12)

The rest, you could say, is history. Tobias is welcomed by his relatives. Raphael helps him overcome the demon to marry Sarah and also gives him instructions for curing his father's blindness. Tobias and Sarah return to Tobit with a fortune from Sarah's father and Raphael reveals himself to them as an angel. Tobit offers a long prayer of praise to God for all that has happened to them and gives Tobias a bit more fatherly advice before the story closes with Tobias' obituary.

The New Jerusalem Bible sums up Tobit by saying, "It is an edifying story, in which the emphasis falls on almsgiving and duties toward the dead; true family life is shown at its best; the ideal of marriage anticipates Christian teaching. The divine benevolence is at once revealed and hidden in the angel Raphael, the agent of God. That this providence is with us, day by day, is the lesson of the book."

You can read Tobit online in the CEB at Bible Gateway.com.

Book Review: Courageous Living by Michael Catt

2012-01-06T07:46:00.004-07:00

“Be strong and courageous,” David said to his son Solomon. “Get to work. Don’t be afraid or discouraged, because the LORD God, my God, is with you. He’ll neither let you down nor leave you before all the work for the service of the LORD’s temple is done." (1 Chronicles 28:20 CEB).

Courageous Living: Dare to Take a Stand by Michael Catt challenges Christians (especially the men) to stand up for what they believe. Senior pastor of Sherwood Baptist Church and executive producer of the movies Fireproof and Courageous, Catt is bold and blunt in his call to live with courage. In the introduction, he says, "Today we need men with the hearts of a warrior... Men who won't turn back. We need men who stand up and take responsibility for their role as men."

Using quotes from the movie Courageous and anecdotal stories of great Christian heroes, Catt calls Christians to take a stand on a variety of issues. Through Abraham, we are challenged to have the courage to get going; through Ruth, we are challenged to have the courage to face an uncertain future; through Nehemiah, we are challenge to have the courage to face criticism. Throughout Scriptures, we see men and women who had the courage to do what God asked of them—to do what was required in their particular time, whether that was the darkness during the time of the Judges or the despair of the deportation to Assyria. Today, Catt says, we need men like that once again. Men who will stand up for God and make a difference in our world.

Most of us have found a comfortable faith. We might have been raised in the church or simply believe in God, but we might be shy about sharing those beliefs in certain circles. I've been guilty of that myself on this blog. Some of you might have been shocked by all the Scripture quoting I've done in the last few months. For a few years, I was in a dry place spiritually and it was easier to blog about things other than faith. Recently, thanks to books like this one and the Common English Bible, I've found a renewal of my spiritual life. Catt's book rang a chord in my heart. It's easy to look around at our world and to gripe about the things that we don't like, but it takes courage to do something to change those things.

Catt says, "This is no time to stand still or hesitate when there is so much to be done. We will find courage in the Word of God and the will of God. Living the courageous life is being willing to pray, 'Not my will but God's be done.'"

Catt mentions Courageous Living is his fourth book in three years and sometimes, his writing seemed scattered. He jumped around between points and ideas. Other times, I got annoyed by what seemed like name-dropping. Overall, though, he presents a message that churches across North America need to hear. Like the men in the movie Courageous, we need to stand up for our faith and our families.

"Because of this, I’m reminding you to revive God’s gift that is in you through the laying on of my hands. God didn’t give us a spirit that is timid but one that is powerful, loving, and self-controlled. So don’t be ashamed of the testimony about the Lord or of me, his prisoner. Instead, share the suffering for the good news, depending on God’s power" (2 Timothy 1:6-8 CEB)

Book has been provided courtesy of David C Cook and Graf-Martin Communications, Inc. Available at your favourite bookseller from B&H Publishing Group.

What is a Blog Meme?

2012-01-04T07:25:00.003-07:00

A meme (pronounced to rhyme with "theme) comes from the scientific idea of "a self-propagating unit of thought that is spread from one host to another" (according to Chris Garrett). In a blog meme, one blogger posts on a topic or idea and then invites other bloggers to write posts on the same topic or idea and link back to the original post. There are memes on nearly every topic imagineable.

Participating in blog memes is a good way to get the word out about your blog and to attract new readers to your blog. It's also a great way to discover other blogs you'll enjoy reading. With blog memes, practice the golden rule—if you want bloggers to read and comment on your blog, then you should read and comment on their blogs.

Here are a few blog memes I've discovered for moms and writers that you may want to visit and participate in (organized by the day of the week on which they happen):

Sunday

Stream of Conciousness Sunday hosted at All Things Fadra
Rules: Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only. Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw. Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.

Monday

It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? hosted at Book Journey
What it’s about: This is a great way to plan out your reading week and see what others are currently reading as well… you never know where that next “must read” book will come from!

Mailbox Monday hosted at Mailbox Monday
What it’s about: Mailbox Monday is a gathering place for readers to share the books that came into their house last week and explore great book blogs. Warning: MM can lead to envy, toppling TBR piles and humongous wish lists.

Tuesday

Titus 2sdays hosted at Time Warp Wife
What it’s about: Today and every Tuesday, I want to invite bloggers to link-up any blog posts that will encourage women to joyfully live out their roles as wives and keepers of their homes I'm looking for posts on marriage, parenting, housekeeping, or recipes.

Top Ten Tuesday hosted at Oh Amanda
Rules: Link up your Top Ten list and join in the Top Ten {Tuesday} fun! All you have to do is WRITE a top ten list, PASTE it below, LINK back to me in your post & then start LOVIN’ on the rest of the participants with facebook likes, stumbles, comments and tweets!

Wednesday

Wifey Wednesdays hosted at To Love, Honour and Vacuum
What it’s about: I introduce a topic about marriage, and then you follow up either by commenting or by writing your own post and then linking up!

Women Living Well Wednesdays hosted at Women Living Well Ministries
What it’s about: Posts can include the topics of marriage, parenting, homemaking, finances, recipes, organization and more!

Friday

7 Quick Takes hosted at Conversion Diary
What it’s about: write seven quick takes – short bits of information or new or anything that doesn’t turn into a blog post on its own and share them with your blog readers.

Five Minute Friday hosted at The Gypsy Mama

Rules: Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking. Link back here and invite others to join in. Most importantly: leave a comment for the person who linked up before you – encouraging them in their writing!

Do you host or participate in a blog meme that I haven't listed here? Please share the link in the comments below and I'll add it to the list!

Book Review: The Resolution for Women

2012-01-02T07:35:00.013-07:00

I used to make New Year's Resolutions. My early journals contain the lists I wrote on January 1, which usually included something about treating my brothers better and reading my Bible more. Sometimes, in the first weeks of January, I'd comment on my failure to keep a resolution (probably the one about my brothers) and tell myself I'd try to do better. By the end of January, the resolutions were long forgotten. So after a few years, I stopped making resolutions.

And yet most years, I still approach January with a feeling that this year will be better than last year. Just as I often go to sleep, telling myself that tomorrow I'll do better than I did today. I think we are all prone to this hope that we can better ourselves (just look at the self-help section of your local bookstore). Priscilla Shirer shares similar thoughts about resolutions in the opening of The Resolution for Women. She points out that whether or not we make New Year's Resolutions, we are women of resolutions. We've made decisions about how to live our lives, how to treat our friends and family, how to raise our children, and these resolutions are "making you who you are. They're determining the life you'll end up living, the tomorrow you'll end up shaping."

That's a bit of a scary thought, because it's true. And if it's true, then I want to be deliberate about the choices I'm making. Rather than scaring me, this book of resolutions encouraged me by giving me the resources and inspiration I need to make good choices in my life. To become the woman I want to be.

In The Resolution for Women, Priscilla outlines thirteen resolutions based on Biblical principles for women to aspire to. She speaks as a friend, someone coming alongside us to encourage us in our goals, someone who has been there, done that and knows what it's like to be a wife and a mother and a busy woman, yet one who still pushes us to look beyond our day-to-day tasks and reach for what God wants for us. This book is not just for wives and mothers; it's for women in every walk of life as Priscilla shows how these resolutions can deepen our relationships with our family, friends, and with God.

Resolutions might be scary, but I found myself liking the fact that this book demanded a commitment of me. I'm guilty of reading lots of books, hoping that this book will be the one that somehow makes my life better. I want an epiphany moment, a big change in my life. But I'm coming to realize that doesn't happen. Change comes in small steps—like the small chapters of this book. Each resolution has three or four chapters with personal anecdotes, illustrations, Scriptures, prayers, and questions for discussion or journalling; then Priscilla asks us to commit to that resolution, to sign an agreement with ourselves (or some close friends) that we'll uphold these. You may even want, like the men in the Courageous movie, to copy the entire resolution and hang it on a wall to remind yourself of your commitments.

Whether you like making resolutions or not, may I invite you to join me in making these thirteen resolutions this year. (Maybe your husband will join you by reading and comiting to The Resolution for Men.) I have great dreams for 2012, but I know that God has bigger dreams for me. With the prayer and inspiration of this book, I want to step into those dreams.

"Brothers and sisters, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord as an example of patient resolve and steadfastness. Look at how we honor those who have practiced endurance. You have heard of the endurance of Job. And you have seen what the Lord has accomplished, for the Lord is full of compassion and mercy." James 5:10-11 CEB

If, like me, you resolve to spend more time reading your Bible, check out Friday's post for your chance to win a copy of the new Common English Bible. What other resolutions have you made in January? Have your resolutions helped or discouraged you?

Book has been provided courtesy of David C Cook and Graf-Martin Communications, Inc. Available at your favourite bookseller from B&H Publishing Group.

Book Review: The Resolution for Men

2012-01-01T07:57:00.007-07:00

The movie Courageous is about four men who work together as police officers. When a crisis happens in one officer’s family, he realizes he hasn’t been the father he wished he had. He begins studying his Bible, searching for answers, and shares his findings with his fellow officers. Together, they make a resolution to be godly men, fathers, and husbands. The last half of the movie is about their successes and failures to uphold this resolution and the results of their actions in their community.

The Resolution for Men, written by Courageous screenwriters Stephen and Alex Kendrick with Randy Alcorn, challenges every man to make the same resolution to be godly men, fathers, and husbands. Like Paul, they advise men: “So be careful to live your life wisely, not foolishly. Take advantage of every opportunity because these are evil times” (Ephesians 5:15-16 CEB). In the opening chapters, the authors look at “Why We Need Men of Resolution,” painting a dismal picture of our society today—a society feeling the impact of growing up without fathers. They say,

“Dads used to be very intentional about fathering their children. They knew how pivotal their influence was. But because so many fathers today don’t know who they are or what they are doing, they end up doing very little. And because they are not training their sons how to be responsible men, the culture is stepping in and subtly emasculating them.”

Or not so subtly emasculating them. I’ve talked about being shocked at how negatively the dad is portrayed in the Berenstain Bears, even though the author explains Papa Bear is based on himself. Try to think of the last movie or TV show in which there was a strong father figure. (Thor actually jumps to mind—the father wasn’t afraid to discipline his son because he knew Thor needed it.) Advertising is having a heyday with men, painting men as idiots who don’t pick the right products while their women are clearly smarter and better informed.

The Resolution for Men thus issues a much-needed challenge to fathers and husbands—and even to single men preparing for these roles in their future—to be the men that God is calling them to be, to make a difference first in their families, then in their communities. As I read this book, I thought not only of the men in the movie but also the men in my life who lived by the principles outlined in the resolution. My dad often took me out for dinner, as Nathan takes his daughter Jade out in Courageous, to show me how a man should treat me. He opened doors for me and encouraged me to set high standards for the man I would eventually date. (My husband was one of few men at the small university I attended who actually opened a door for me or let me go through first.)

Moms also play an important role in the Courageous movie, but as Alcorn and the Kendricks point out, “Whereas moms are priceless, irreplaceable, and needed beyond measure, they were never designed to be men or to fill the role of a dad.” God created men and women to be men and women—each of us equal, yet given different roles and responsibilities. Thus this is a Resolution for Men—a challenge just to the men, based on Biblical principles. Each chapter uses Scriptures, research, and examples of fathers from history to encourage and inspire men to make a differences in their families. (Tomorrow I’ll be reviewing The Resolution for Women, a call to mothers and wives to also be the women God is calling them to be.)

January is traditionally a time for making resolutions. This year, these two books—The Resolution for Men and The Resolution for Women—offer not only a list of resolutions, but also the encouragement and inspiration to aspire to and achieve those resolutions. Grab a book, invite some close friends to read it with you, and may 2012 be the year that we make a difference in our families and our world.

"The seed that fell on good soil are those who hear the word and commit themselves to it with a good and upright heart. Through their resolve, they bear fruit." ~ Luke 8:15 CEB. (Have you entered Friday's draw to win a copy of the Common English Bible yet?)

Can you think of men in your life—dad, uncle, even a friend's father—who made the sort of influence in your life described in Courageous or The Resolution for Men?

Book has been provided courtesy of David C Cook and Graf-Martin Communications, Inc. Available at your favourite bookseller from B&H Publishing Group.

Best Books of 2011

2011-12-30T07:56:00.001-07:00

It's that time of year again—time to review all the books I read in 2011 and see which ones still jump out at me as the best of the year. Looking back at my reviews always brings back pleasant memories of the books (and sometimes of what I was doing while reading them), but only a few make me think, "Yeah, I'd like to read that book again someday." Here are the few (in no particular order).

Fiction:

The Realms Thereunder by Ross Lawhead—in this thrilling start to a new fantasy trilogy by first-time author Ross Lawhead, who appears to have inherited his father's gift for storytelling, Daniel and Freya learn of worlds beyond their own and must choose what part they will play in the struggle to come.

The Order of Good Cheer by Bill Gaston—this literary historical fiction takes us back to the time of Samuel de Champlain while also telling the story of modern-day Andrew and showing us that life hasn't changed very much in the centuries between these two men.

Solitaria by Genni Gunn—this literary novel blends past and present as David listens to his aunt's memories of Italy between and during the World Wars while trying to sort out the truth of his family history and the mystery of his uncle's murder.

Nonfiction:

The Boy by Betty Jane Hegerat—this book could fall into either genre as Hegerat deftly weaves together fact and fiction to dig into the story of Robert Raymond Cook, the last man hanged in Alberta. (My Best Books list wouldn't be complete without one of her books on it.)

Unsinkable by Abby Sunderland—this memoir is the teenage sailor's honest, inspiring look at her attempt to break the world record of being the youngest person to sail solo around the world.

Story Engineering by Larry Brooks—comparing storytelling to architecture, Larry ends the debate between pantsers and plotters by showing how every writer should use a solid structure when writing their story and gives detailed information for writers to apply his structural ideas to their stories.

Special:

The Common English Bible—this brand-new translation seeks to put the Bible into modern, everyday language and was a work of collaboration between scholars, translators, and readers from around the world and a variety of denominations. It is available with the Apocrypha as well as online and in a variety of hardcover and softcover styles.

And that finishes my reading for 2011! I won't admit a bias toward Canadian authors, but I did notice that half of the books on this list are written by Canadians. I've got more great reviews coming up in the new year. Feel free to take a look at my top picks for 2010 and 2009.

Now, I have a giveaway this year! For your chance to win your very own copy of the CEB, leave a comment here with your favourite book from this year (if you reviewed it on your blog, feel free to include a link!). For extra entries in the draw, tell me which three authors on my list are Canadian (one extra entry for each correct name, up to three extra entries if you get all three authors!). I'll randomly draw one lucky winner next Friday.

A Day at Lake Louise

2011-12-28T10:11:00.004-07:00

Cold wind drove icy snow into our faces as the chairlift rose above the trees and carried us to the top of the Lake Louise Ski Hill. We stumbled off the chair, slid down the slope to the map, and stared up at the lines and dots, searching for the green route off the top. My brother bounced his snowboard down the slope and waved his arm toward the cat track sloping away to the west. A few years ago, our uncle nicknamed him "The Kamikaze Kid" for his snowboarding.

“Is it easy?” I hollered at him, but the wind carried my words away. I shrugged. We’d told him we hadn’t been downhill skiing in three years and he’d already been up and down the hill once while we got our rental gear, so surely he knew the easiest way down.

We dodged whizzing skiers and snowboarders and made our way along the narrow track, fighting our skis and squinting into the blowing snow. At the corner, my brother was waiting to warn us that there was a 20-foot drop and then it got easy. He disappeared over the edge. I started looking for some way around that drop. Inching to the left, I managed to find a more gradual path and kept my balance as gravity pulled me down the hill. Flailing my ski poles while the snow caught first one ski and then the other, I finally pulled to a stop and looked around the hill. My brother had planted his snowboard below me and was watching us. I made my way over there and again asked about “easy way down.”

Minutes later, when we hit the moguls, I started wondering what on earth I was doing here. Dollar signs flashed through my head as I thought about what we’d paid to be here. We should have just stayed at home. I was too out of practice. Why had I thought this was fun anyway? I was freezing. Trying not to hit my bum or break a leg. I just wanted to be at the bottom of the hill again.

By the time we made it to the bottom of the hill, I’d found small spurts of confidence as parts of the hill were easier than others. We skied up to the chair lift—now without a lineup, since everyone who’d arrived at the same time as us had scattered over the runs and chairs on the hill—and rode back to the middle of the mountain. There we assessed the map again, talked to someone, choose a green route off the top, and made sure we followed the signs when we got there.

When we hit one wide, powder hill with no one else on it, I pointed my skis downhill and let myself fly. “Don’t fight the hill—work with the snow,” I muttered to myself as wind whistled past my ears. My whole body shifted, twisted, balanced, moved as I felt the snow beneath the edges of my skis, turning into the puffs of powder, sliding over the icier sections of the hill and arriving at the bottom in time to look up and watch my husband come down.

We lost my brother on that run—he dropped into a black diamond bowl while we made our way around on the green run—and took another trip down that same run before stopping at the restaurant to warm up and get a bite to eat. Then we tried another side of the hill, where the mountain sheltered us from the wind and few other people were skiing, and I began going as fast as the snow would allow. On one run, I had to stop several times to admire the mountains and valleys around us. At one point, when the sun came out from behind the clouds, I stopped under a big pine tree to admire the view and say, “Thank you, God, for this beauty and for the chance to be here seeing it.”

Looking south from Lake Louise Ski Hill

Towards the end of the afternoon, my husband and brother had finished and I wanted one more run down. I took the gondola up to the top and came down the long green run, dodging past other skiers and trying to keep my record of not wiping out in a day of skiing. I thought about how it’s easy to forget the cold of the wind in your face, the parts of the hill that made you wonder if you’ll make it down alive, even the pain of crashing into the hill. What I remember about skiing is the speed of the ride down, the challenge of reading the snow and picking the right route down the hill, and the thrill of reaching the bottom after a fast run.

God roars with his wondrous voice;

he does great things we can’t know.

He says to the snow, “Fall to earth,”

and to the downpour of rain,

“Be a mighty shower.”

He stamps the hand of every person

so all can know his work.

~ Job 37:5-7 CEB

I Wish You a Merry Christmas!

2011-12-23T06:05:00.002-07:00

"Through the simple act of becoming a mother, a woman changed the world."

~ Edward Sri

God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a city in Galilee, to a virgin who was engaged to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David’s house. The virgin’s name was Mary. When the angel came to her, he said, “Rejoice, favored one! The Lord is with you!” She was confused by these words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. The angel said, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. God is honoring you. Look! You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great and he will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of David his father. He will rule over Jacob’s house forever, and there will be no end to his kingdom.”

(Luke 1:26-33 CEB)

Stable in Bethlehem

2011-12-21T07:30:00.004-07:00

I wrote this poem thirteen Christmases ago (remember 1998?). I sent it to my grandma, who sent it to her local paper. When we arrived for Christmas, she had a stack of papers for me with my little poem in them.

In a stable in Bethlehem town

Joseph made a bed of straw to lay down.

Mary slept, warm and dry,

while white doves cooed in rafters high.

The grey donkey who had carried her

Now lay resting by the manger.

Following a bright and brilliant star,

came a wise man from lands afar.

He rode a camel tall and brown,

and came to worship and bow down.

He brought with him a bowl of gold

from lands of wondrous wealth untold.

His eyes also on that star,

another wise man came from afar.

He sat on a camel rangy and lean

and came to revere things unseen.

His gift was a jar of myrrh

which he laid beside the manger.

With the first two came a third wise man,

Across the dusty sands where camels ran.

His camel was dark and strong,

with legs to pace for distances long.

Frankincense he brought as a gift,

and hands to heaven he did lift.

Then came a shepherd wondering why

angels had sung in the starry sky.

With the shepherd came a lamb

white and soft was the wool of that lamb.

Leaving the flocks he watched at night,

came another shepherd, that worship he might.

He brought with him a flute

for to play soft and mute.

Blinded by the angel’s light,

the shepherds came running with all their might.

Also game a gentle black sheep,

awakened from her sleep.

For as the wise men had followed a star,

Angels sang over hills yonder.

They sang, “Flory to the newborn Child,

and Peace on earth and mercy mild.”

What did the wise men, shepherds and sheep,

Find that made them dance and leap?

What happened that night in a lowly stable,

that makes this story more than a fable?

Wise men, poor men, far away, close by

All came – you know why!

Because Jesus, only Son of God,

was born in that lowly house of sod.

Here's a beautiful reading of the Christmas story from The Common English Bible:

CEB The Christmas Story, Luke 2: 1-20, read with background music from Common English Bible on Vimeo.

What is your favorite Christmas story, poem or movie?

Santa Claus is Just a Story

2011-12-19T11:27:00.005-07:00

I was driving through the city with the girls a few weeks ago when Sunshine suddenly said, "Santa's going to bring me TOYS!" The Jeep had been quiet until then—no music, no talking—so the comment came completely out of the blue. I blinked and thought, Where did she learn that? A babysitter? Preschool?

I let the comment go right then, not sure how to address it. Santa Claus is everywhere now. She sees him in pictures at the mall, in inflatable ornaments in front yards, in paintings on store windows, on the paper I used to wrap our Christmas presents. The songs on her Christmas CD talk about Santa Claus and Rudolph (and last night, while we drove to visit her aunt and uncle, she was singing "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus," much to my husband's amusement).

I don't remember ever believing in Santa Claus, so I have no funny stories to share about learning he wasn't real. My family never pretended any of the presents came from him. I knew Mom and Dad stacked gifts under the Christmas tree and filled our stockings (on the years we had stockings—most years they were forgotten). Of course, I knew about Santa Claus and saw him at the Christmas party my dad's company threw for its families every year. He was just another Christmas tradition, like the clown band at the Christmas party or Frosty the Snowman or Dr. Suess' Grinch.

This year, Sunshine is old enough to pay attention to those stories and songs and I find myself asking what we want to teach her about Santa Claus. Even the cashiers at the grocery store ask her, "What's Santa bringing you this year?" or "Are you excited to see Santa?" I smile and let her answer the questions while I think about Saint Nicholas and family traditions and consumerism and things my three-year-old doesn't really care about.

We were all driving home a few days ago when Sunshine again began talking about Santa Claus. My husband asked her, "Is Santa real like Daddy or a story like Elmo?" After a pause, Sunshine answered, "A story!" We both smiled and said, "That's right. There's lots of fun Christmas stories." My husband told her about Saint Nicholas—a man who loved Jesus so much he gave generously to others and started the legend that has become today's Santa Claus. It's a nice story, but the Christmas story I like the best is the one about a stable in Bethlehem.

Sunshine has several beautiful, poetic books about shepherds, angels, wise men and Christmas stars. There are songs about baby Jesus on her Christmas CD and when we walked up to church yesterday morning, she easily recognized the big picture of Mary, Joseph and Jesus on the front of the church. The angels in Luke's gospel told some pretty amazing stories, such as this announcement for a group of shepherds: "Don’t be afraid! Look! I bring good news to you—wonderful, joyous news for all people. Your savior is born today in David’s city. He is Christ the Lord. This is a sign for you: you will find a newborn baby wrapped snugly and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:10-12 CEB).

What traditions does your family have about Santa Claus? What are your favourite Christmas stories?

Fourth Sunday in Advent: Reconciliation

2011-12-18T07:45:00.004-07:00

Christmas is a time when families gather together for turkey and presents and other traditions. Airlines jack ticket prices and gas stations raise fuel prices because this is peak traveling season. My family always gathered at my grandparents house (on my dad's side) for Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Lately, we've moved back to the old farmhouse (now my uncle's) for our Christmas celebration, where my aunt and her husband take care of the turkey while the rest of us play cards or nibble on nuts and chocolates.

Over the years, our traditions have changed. Once upon a time, we read the Christmas story before opening gifts. Most years, Grandma bakes a Christmas pudding, which we drown in lemon or butterscotch sauce and eat with a smile (though some of us don't like it). A few years ago, we started doing a Chinese gift exchange—each of us chooses a random, silly or useful gift that any of the other relatives might like and then on Christmas morning we take turns opening and fighting over presents. It's usually good for some laughs as one or two presents prove to be the most popular and change hands several times before ending up with the lucky person who gets to take it home.

Among the traditions, dinner, and family fun, however, there can sometimes be tension. Families don't always get along perfectly and so preparations for Christmas may come with trepidation about family members who have caused hurt in the past. We might put on happy faces, manage to avoid that person in the crowd of people gathered around the tree, try to ignore the hurt or the distance or whatever happened that makes it hard to see that person again. Or maybe we can use this time of joy as a time for reconciliation.

Jesus came into this world so many Christmases ago to reconcile us to God. Saint Paul tells us, "So then, if anyone is in Christ, that person is part of the new creation. The old things have gone away, and look, new things have arrived! All of these new things are from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and who gave us the ministry of reconciliation" (2 Cor 5:17-18 CEB).

As I think about the family we'll see next week, I'm praying for reconciliation. I'm praying for a heart of forgiveness. I'm praying that the joy of Christmas will surround us and give us the strength to look past old hurts and to at least start the healing process. I know maybe that's all a big dream, but I believe God can work in my heart and in the heart of the people with whom I wish to reconcile . Maybe this Christmas will be the year that we can truly celebrate Christ's birth as God's work of reconciliation with us.

Book Review: The Names of God Bible

2011-12-16T10:58:00.001-07:00

Names are the first thing we learn about someone when we meet them. In the Bible, God introduced himself to us with a variety of names. Most Bibles, however, simply translate God's name as "God" or "Lord." In The Names of God Bible, Ann Spangler (best-selling author of Praying the Names of God) leaves God's names in their original Hebrew and includes explanations so readers can learn more about God's character from his names. She explains, "God's name is associated with his glory, power, holiness, protection, trust, and love. ... God's name is his reputation."

One name that caught my attention was used only once in Scriptures. In Genesis 16, Sarah gave her maid Hagar to her husband Abraham to have a son by Hagar, but when Hagar got pregnant, Sarah resented and mistreated her. One day, Hagar ran away and had an encounter with God in which he blessed her and her unborn son. In response, "Hagar named Yahweh, who had been speaking to her, 'You are El Roi.' She said, 'This is the place where I watched the one who watches over me.'" (Genesis 16:13). El Roi, or God Who Watches Over Me, made me think of the way I watch my daughters to make sure they don't get hurt. God has an entire world to take care of, yet he is the God Who Watches Over Me. Amazing.

I was familiar with some of God's Hebrew names from Amy Grant's song "El Shaddai," but The Names of God Bible revealed so much more of God to me. Spangler says, "The equation of name with character is nowhere more evident than in the names and titles attributed to God in Scripture. ... By revealing his name, God was inviting his people into relationship with him. But this was a risky venture, because they could choose to live in ways that either honored his name or dishonored it." In this Bible, readers can follow each name through Scripture and see how it is used or how God's relationship with his people changes through their history.

In some places, however, I got confused. The Psalms include a lot of references to God; for example, Psalm 71:3 says, "Indeed, you are my rock and my Metsuda." I had to flip back to the introduction to Psalms to see what Metsuda meant (Fortress) but then I wondered why Spangler didn't also leave "Rock" in the original Hebrew as a title of God. Both "rock" and "fortress" seemed like metaphors for God, rather than names or titles. Perhaps someone who has read Spangler's book would be familiar with these names and find it easier to read; I found myself using this as a study Bible to follow one name and learn more about God through that name.

I wondered how other translations handled these names, especially when I noticed that some names have multiple English translations. For example, Spangler translates Yahweh Tsebaoth as Lord Almighty, The Lord of Armies, or The Lord of Hosts. The Common English Bible translates this name as Lord of heavenly forces; in 2 Samuel 7:25-27, David prays, "Now, Lord God, confirm forever the promise you have made about your servant and his dynasty. Do just as you have promised so that your name will be great forever when people say, 'The Lord of heavenly forces is Israel's God!' May your servant David's household be established before you, because you, Lord of heavenly forces, Israel's God, have revealed to your servant that you will build a dynasty for him" (CEB, emphasis added).

The Names of God Bible provides readers like me who know nothing about Hebrew a glimpse into the ways that God revealed himself to his people in all the richness of their language. Each name reveals a different facet of God's character as he interacts with his people and shows himself to them or is given names by them, as Hagar does. I found this was a beautiful and profound way to approach my daily Scripture reading.

Bible has been provided courtesy of Baker Publishing Group and Graf-Martin Communications, Inc. Available at your favourite bookseller from Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group.

Remembering You Holiday Meme

2011-12-15T10:35:00.002-07:00

1. What's your favorite holiday song? Probably "O Come O Come Emmanuel." I love the haunting melody and the sense of anticipation in that song. In the Catholic Church, we don't sing "Christmas songs" until Christmas, but "O Come O Come Emmanuel" is a standard for Advent. It's one of the first songs most churches sing and so when I hear it, I feel like Christmas is coming!

2. What's your favorite holiday tradition? Going to Grandma's house. We've always had Christmas at my grandparent's place (or with them but at my aunt's or uncle's place). It's mostly just a time to get together and hang out together—we don't have many traditions, as such—but I love the fact that we're all together at Grandma's, enjoying turkey (and maybe Christmas pudding, if Grandma made it).

3. If you could travel one place with an elderly family member, where would you go? Back to England. My great-grandma sailed from England to Canada just after the Titanic sank. I've always wanted to go to England, but it would have been been fun to go there with her, to see the places she lived and grew up. She passed away when I was about six, so I'm not sure anyone would remember where she lived when she was there. My grandma might remember her mom talking about places, so it would be fun to go with her too.

4. What questions would you ask? I'm curious about family stories. Especially since our world has changed so much since my great-grandma and my grandma were my age. I'd ask them about that, if I could. How they met their husbands. What it was like to have kids back then. I'd ask Grandma about choosing between her teaching career and her marriage.

5. What is a non-tangible gift have you received from an elderly relative? Encouragement. My grandma has always encouraged my writing. She is actually the reason that I first got published—she sent a Christmas poem that I'd written to her local newspaper and they printed it. A few years later, when I won Honourable Mention for one of my stories, she sent that one to the newspaper too, and that began a series of stories I wrote for the paper. She also read and responded to my letters and always asked about my writing.

6. What is the best/worst/strangest gift you've received from an elderly relative? My brothers used to complain that my grandma spoiled me. I was the only granddaughter, so everytime we went to visit (whether it was Christmas or not), she'd have something for me. One summer, she was digging out her flower gardens and gave me quite a few bulbs. I brought them home and planted them in front of our house and that began my flower garden and my love for tiger lilies.

This blog meme is hosted by Tricia Goyer to help launch her newest book, Remembering You. I'm tagging Joanna, Tracy and Brenda to answer the questions! On December 22nd, ten people who have filled out the linky (below) will be selected at random to win one of the ten 4-book prize packs from Tricia. To enter, all you have to do is answer the MEME on your blog and then fill out the linky. Easy.

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

2011-12-14T07:55:00.001-07:00

One of my Christmas memories is helping my dad with our annual family Christmas letter. He typed the two-page letter on the computer, then printed it on nice Christmas paper. The first letters came out on a Dot-Matrix printer, so we had to tear all the holey edges off before folding the pages into the envelopes. I was his chief assistant: the stamp licker, paper folder, label sticker, address checker, envelope sealer. It usually took us a Sunday afternoon to get the stack of letters ready to go; then we'd walk them down to the mailbox and drop them in.

One Christmas, I received a letter writing set from my aunt. It had two pads of pink textured lined paper with matching envelopes, two flower-patterned pens, and two little heart notepads. For years, I was a prolific letter writer. I sent regular epistles to my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, my cousins, and several penpals. Then slowly those letters evolved into emails, and then I got busy with work and university and sent fewer letters. A few years ago, Grandma returned a stack of letters to me. I smiled as I saw my childish handwriting and read the tidbits of news that I'd thought worth sharing at the time.

These days, my mailbox usually only has bills or the latest book I'm receiving for review. It's a rare and happy day that we get any real letter mail. Last year, I think my grandma was the only one who sent cards for the girl's birthdays and for my anniversary. (She has a computer and email but prefers handwriting letters.) The rest of us use Facebook to say "Happy Birthday" or recognize special occasions (and Facebook has that handy little feature to remind us about those special occasions).

Sometimes, I pull out a card and a pen and sit down to write a letter to my grandma or a friend (and discover how bad my handwriting has become now that I use it so infrequently!). I think about how much we know about our history because people wrote letters and other people saved those letters. For example, we wouldn't have half of the New Testament if the apostles hadn't written letters to the early Christians or if those early Christians hadn't treasured those letters and copied them and shared them with all of their friends. I like reading the greetings in those letters and imagining the people to whom they were written:

From Simon Peter, a slave and apostle of Jesus Christ.
To those who received a faith equal to ours through the justice of our God and savior Jesus Christ.
May you have more and more grace and peace through the knowledge of God and Jesus our Lord.

(2 Peter 1:1-2 CEB)

Obviously, nothing I've written in a letter is as interesting or inspiring as what Saint Peter wrote in his letters. Yet ordinary letters still have the power of connecting people. I have three shoe boxes full of letters I've kept over the years—special letters for special occasions (like Christmas!) and everyday letters about a friend's life and encouraging letters for hard times. Sometimes, I pull out those boxes and sift through the memories and appreciate the time my family and friends took to write a letter.

Goodbye, Cloth Diapers

2011-12-12T07:45:00.004-07:00

Lilibet helping fold her clean diapers

"Poopy! Poopy!" Lilibet wailed. I turned around from where I sat at the computer to see her standing with her legs shoulder-width apart, as if she were riding an invisible horse. The carpet beneath her was wet and dark splotches marked the inside of her pant legs. I sighed. This was the third time her diaper had leaked today, and yesterday had been about the same.

Holding her at arm's length to keep myself dry, I marched her upstairs to her bedroom. Pulling off the wet diaper and pants, I tossed them in the laundry bin and opened her dresser drawer. The only pants left were a pair of baggy purple fleece pants which I'd been avoiding because they made her diapers fall off. The velcro closures no longer fasten very securely, so I tried to put Lilibet in tight pants to help keep her diaper on. If I put her in these baggy fleece pants, I'd be refastening her diaper every fifteen minutes.

I glanced wistfully at the disposable diapers in the top drawer—the "nighttime diapers," as I'd explained to Sunshine when she asked me why I was putting a strange diaper under Lilibet's jammies. Nights were the worst for the cloth diapers, as Lilibet's loose jammies and sleepy wiggles were guaranteed to work the diaper loose. On many nights, she soaked her diaper and her jammies and the sheet underneath her as well. Neither of us liked midnight diaper changes, much less when those changes involved changing everything and not just the diaper.

Using disposables at night had been my compromise between my dislike for disposables and my failing cloth diapers. I could keep Lilibet dry (and hopefully encourage her to sleep through the night) while still using cloth during the day, when I could change her more frequently. Lately, though, the diapers weren't working at all. Every pee ended up running down Lilibet's legs, resulting in wails of "poopy! poopy!"

Our set of Bum Genius diapers have had a long life. We bought them when Sunshine was six months old and the diapers have been in constant use since then (over three years). Sunshine potty trained just around the time that Lilibet was born, so I went straight from diapering Sunshine to diapering Lilibet. In Lilibet's first few months, I did laundry every day to keep up with her diaper. And I haven't exactly been gentle with the diapers. We used cloth diapers all the time, even on camping trips or when visiting family, so I've washed them wherever I could, which sometimes meant the soap or water was hard on the diapers.

So last week, I packed up the cloth diapers and put them in the diaper pail and put the diaper pail in the closet. I bought a big box of the cheapest disposable diapers I could find. I'm torn about that decision. Lilibet is 18 months old and could be potty trained by the time she's two, like Sunshine was, so it doesn't seem worth it to buy a new set of cloth diapers yet. Disposable diapers are, in some ways, easier to use. At the same time, I wince at the price of a pack of diapers (even on sale) and have already noticed that I'm hauling way more garbage out to the dumpster. It's hard to give up on why I used cloth diapers.

If you use cloth diapers, what type did you use and how long did they last for you? If you use disposable diapers, do you have any tips for saving money with them? Do you have any diaper stories to share?

Third Sunday in Advent: Rejuvenation

2011-12-11T11:27:00.004-07:00

When I talk about Christmas, I start thinking about the Christmas break. For most of my life, I've been in school (scary thought!) so Christmas means a break from studying, papers, and exams. It means a chance to hang out with family and friends instead of attending classes. Often, instead of anticipating Christmas, I find myself counting down until the last day of classes or the last exam or the last day of work, when I am finally free to enjoy the holiday season.

As I thought about Advent this year, I realized that I want this to be a time of rejuvenation. We all need a chance to step back from our day-to-day routines and relax. In fact, in the Christmas story, as soon as Mary heard the news from the angel that she would carry the Messiah in her womb, she left Nazareth:

Mary got up and hurried to a city in the Judean highlands. She entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. With a loud voice she blurted out, “God has blessed you above all women, and he has blessed the child you carry.” Mary stayed with Elizabeth about three months, and then returned to her home. (Luke 1:39-42, 56 CEB)

I picture these two women working together, watching their bellies grow with the special babies inside, encouraging each other through this difficult time. Back in Nazareth, Mary will have to face the condemnation of her neighbours who think she's pregnant out of wedlock; here with her cousin, who loves her and knows what God is doing, she can rest and prepare for the difficult time to come. Elizabeth was likely grateful to have the younger woman around to help her. I picture laughter and love as these women sew or weave special things for their babies and praise God together.

While we all appreciate Christmas break, we also tend to make that break very busy. I've talked about the to-do list I have for my break and rejoiced that we're already finished our Christmas shopping so we don't have to deal with the malls and stores. We're good at making the most of our breaks, of almost needing a break from the break because we do so much during this season. This year, I want to find time to get away as Mary did. To spend more time with my family. To focus on Jesus and what Christmas really means. To arrive at Christmas feeling not exhausted but rejuvenated by the preparation of Advent.

Here's a song to inspire some spiritual rejuvenation:

What is the Apocrypha?

2011-12-09T07:45:00.003-07:00

When I signed up for the Common English Bible blog tour, I was asked if I wanted the version with the Apocrypha or without. I thought, "I don't know—what's the Apocrypha?" Googling it left me with more questions than I'd had before, so I did some old-fashioned research: I dug out my first-year religious studies textbook. Then I read a few other books my husband found in our library.

What I learned is that the Old Testament or Hebrew Bible was a collection of books used well before the time of Jesus. Jews throughout the ancient world were familiar with the Law and the Prophets and Jesus himself often referred to them:

Jesus said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms must be fulfilled.” (Luke 24:44 CEB)

About two or three hundred years before Jesus' birth, an Egyptian version of the Jewish Scriptures appeared for the library at Alexandria. Commonly known as the Septuagint (based on a story that seventy-two Jewish elders worked separately for seventy-two days to translate seventy-two identical copies), this version included some Greek writings and Greek translations of Hebrew writings that weren't part of the original Hebrew text. As Greek became the common language of the day, this translation became the one that everyone used—including Jesus and the writers of the New Testament who quoted the Old Testament.

During two church councils just before 400 A.D., the Septuagint was officially accepted as the Old Testament. The books of the New Testament were also chosen around this time, based on the decisions of various popes and bishops who noted the importance of these books within their congregations. For the next thousand years, these 73 books were the Bible used by the universal church. All of those books are quoted by the Early Church Fathers as inspired Scripture.

During the Protestant Reformation, scholars developed a new interest in the ancient languages. Martin Luther proposed a return to the Hebrew canon, rejecting seven of the books in the Old Testament (he also didn't like James and Revelation in the New Testament). However, recent research at Qumran has found Hebrew copies of some of these disputed books.

The word "apocrypha" is a Greek term meaning "hidden" or "not genuine." It refers to the disputed nature of the these books, which are not recognized by Jews or Protestants as inspired by God. These are also known as deuterocanonical writings or "second canon" writings. Some Protestant Bibles, such as the CEB, still include these books, but put them in a section by themselves.

Thus in my copy of the Common English Bible, the Apocrypha is sandwiched between the Old and New Testaments. Listed in the table of contents are "Books included in Roman Catholic, Greek, and Slavonic Bible:" Tobit, Judith, Esther (an additional part), Wisdom of Solomon, Sirach, Baruch, Letter of Jeremiah, Prayer of Azariah (and Hymn of the Three Young Men), Susanna, Bel and the Snake, 1 Maccabees and 2 Maccabees. There are also "Books included in Greek and Slavonic Bibles" (1 Esdras, Prayer of Manasseh, Psalm 151, and 3 Maccabees) as well as "Books included in Appendix to Greek Bible" (2 Esdras and 4 Maccabees).

Sources:
The Christian Faith: A Biblical Introduction. 3rd Edition. Gerald Krispin and Russell Nelson. Canada, 2002.
Beginning Apologetics 1: How to Explain and Defend the Catholic Faith. Father Frank Chacon and Jim Burnham. San Juan Catholic Seminars, 1998.

Following in Dickens' Footsteps

2011-12-07T07:35:00.006-07:00

Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens had it easy. When he wrote his first novel, Pickwick Papers, as a serial story for a British magazine in 1836, the English novel as a form had only been around for roughly one hundred years. New technological developments made it easier and cheaper than ever to print books, thus making Dickens' novels accessible to a huge (and hungry) audience. Dickens himself had a charismatic personality that, when he toured England and the United States, made his writing even more popular.

In 1830, just before Dickens launched his writing career, roughly 100 books were published in Britain. Almost two centuries later, in 2005, publishers in Britain churned out 206,000 books. I'm sure the population of Britain increased just as dramatically in that time, but it still seems to me that Dickens had it easy. He only had to build upon the work of a hundred years of novelists; his books only had to compete with a few hundred other new books.

Today's author? Well, today's author has three hundred years of novel-writing traditions behind him or her and has to compete with hundreds of thousands of novels being printed every year. Dickens could travel the country giving talks and acting out his novels for enthralled audiences; today's author might do a blog tour or a few radio or TV interviews (depending on the topic of their book and their publisher's marketing strategy).

As an aspiring writer, that's daunting. I'm sure I could do nothing but read for the next year and I still wouldn't have made it through all the books on my list. I haven't read all of Dickens' novels yet, much less novels published this year, like Esi Edugyan's Giller-prize winning Half-Blood Blues. My fiction professor ended our workshop on Monday by urging all of us to read, read, read over Christmas. He even gave us a list of great short story collections published over the last hundred years or so. I'll just add them to my mile-long list and get started on them when I stop weeping.

In some ways, it's inspiring to read those early novels (Moll Flanders, anyone?) and to see how the novel has changed and developed as a form from them until now. In other ways, I feel like the writer of Ecclesiastes: "Whatever has happened—that’s what will happen again; whatever has occurred—that’s what will occur again. There’s nothing new under the sun" (Eccl. 1:9 CEB). Why should I keep writing when every story has already been written?

Because even if I write a story that's been written before, I write it with my unique voice. I write it, as my instructor told us, in a way that only I can write it. I can learn from all those writers who've written before me and like them, I can try to push the novel or the short story in a new direction. Maybe my name will be lost in obscurity, like some of the other authors who published novels in 1836 with Dickens. Or maybe I'll find a way to say something that will strike a chord with readers for years to come, the way that Dickens did.

If you had to pick a favourite novel from the last 300 years, what would it be? If you're a writer, how do you feel about following in the footsteps of great writers like Dickens?

Christmas Break is Here!

2011-12-05T11:07:00.001-07:00

This afternoon is my last workshop and I'm so happy to be finished for the term. I was ready to be done last week, actually, and have been procrastinating on doing my last set of critiques for this class (one left to do, after I write this blog post). Sunshine's activities wrapped up last week (other than preschool), so now we have nothing on the calendar until January.

And that's a good feeling. In hindsight, I think I overbooked us this semester. Throughout the summer, Sunshine woke up in the morning asking, "What are we doing today?" She really liked having something to look forward to—playgroup or a babysitter or a swim lesson. When I got the Fall Programs Guide, I signed her up for gymnastics on Monday, swim lessons on Tuesday, and a music class on Thursday—plus preschool two afternoons a week, my mommy's group on Wednesday mornings, and a babysitter when I was at my two classes.

It was just as busy as it sounds. While it was good for us to get out of the house, there were also many mornings when I wished that we didn't have to dash off somewhere as soon as we'd had breakfast. Even Sunshine didn't get into the activities the way I thought she would. She was okay with going to gymnastics, but she was also okay with staying at home. She loved swim lessons and preschool. Music class started out great, but by the end of the class, she was saying she didn't want to go and was no longer participating in the class when we got there.

So I've been looking forward to December and to having a break from all of our activities. I have a list of things I want to accomplish while I'm not writing critiques (although "revise my own stories" and "write a new story" are on that list)—some scrapbooking, some reading just for fun (more reviews coming!), some work on the next issue of FellowScript, among other things. My husband's schedule is also getting less busy, so I'm looking forward to some evenings to spend together as a family, taking in the Christmas festivities around Victoria before we head back to Alberta.

As one wise guy once said, "There’s a season for everything and a time for every matter under the heavens..." (Eccl. 3:1 CEB). I don't see "a time to be busy and a time to relax" on that list, but I'm sure he intended it. This Christmas, I'm glad for that change of season, that chance to pause and catch our breath and think about the past season before starting the next.

Second Sunday in Advent: Anticipation

2011-12-04T07:56:00.002-07:00

I've gotten into the habit of dealing with stress by not dealing with it—just not thinking about it until I have to. Sometimes, this helps, because then I can't worry about things I can't do anything about. Other times, this means I'm not as prepared as I should be... such as when I headed off to Seattle for a weekend without any American money, because I put off planning for the flight and the trip until the last minute. It also means that I ignore the excitement along with the stress.

As I think about Christmas, I can see myself using this technique again. Christmas is a hugely exciting time—presents and family and special events and great food and beautiful music—but wishing for it doesn't make it come any faster. And there are stressful moments about the holiday, like finding the perfect gift for everyone or dealing with tense family situations. So I put it off, not thinking about it until I have to deal with it.

This year, I'm trying to appreciate all the beauty of the season. To prepare for those wonderful events and to think about them with excitement. To anticipate the reactions of my family and friends as they open the presents we've chosen for them. Even that long drive back to Alberta is a chance to spend time with my husband and daughters, talking and laughing and entertaining ourselves.

"Simeon" by Ron DiCianni

In the Bible, we find a story of a man who has spent a very long time waiting for and anticipating something. Luke tells us, "A man named Simeon was in Jerusalem. He was righteous and devout. He eagerly anticipated the restoration of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. The Holy Spirit revealed to him that he wouldn’t die before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. Led by the Spirit, he went into the temple area. Meanwhile, Jesus’ parents brought the child to the temple . . . Simeon took Jesus in his arms and praised God" (Luke 2:25-28 CEB, emphasis mine).

That's one of my favourite Bible stories. I love the picture of this old man taking the tiny baby into his arms and praising God after he has waited so long for this day. Because he anticipated the wonderful things God would do, He saw those things. He recognized Baby Jesus. This year, I want to be like Simeon. I want to anticipate all the joys to come and to thank God for them.

What are you anticipating this year? And how do you deal with both the anticipation and the stress of this season?

Three Tips for Building Friendships

2011-12-02T07:30:00.002-07:00

When I blogged about Women of Faith, I mentioned how I had prayed that God would show me who needed to be at that conference that weekend. I was just going for the trip, but surely He knew a woman who could be encouraged and inspired by the weekend. God has a sense of humour; He knew that woman was me. Many of the talks there left me in tears. One that impacted me more than I expected was Lisa Welchel's talk on friendship.

Lisa shared three tips about building friendships from her own experience in learning how to be a friend as an adult. Her tips resonated with me, leaving me scrambling for my notebook in an attempt to scribble down something that I could remember later. (It's easy to have great ideas at a place like a conference; much harder to remember them and put them into practice when I get home again.)

Her first tip is that if you want to have a friend, you need to be a friend. Too often, I've thought, "I want someone to listen to me and to help me." Instead, Lisa says we should have no expectations because we can't expect other people to fill us up. Rather, we need to be grateful for what they have to offer—and to offer ourselves to them. As we be friends, we'll find friends.

Lisa's second tip was to find safe friends. She shared a bad experience she had, in which she discovered that someone she thought was her friend was actually gossiping about her. That struck home with me because I realized there have been times when I haven't been a safe friend. During that lonely time in my teen years I alluded to, I got mad at a couple of my friends for not giving me the friendship I craved. That only pushed them further away. I later made up with one of those friends, but it took time for our friendship to recover from that wound.

Lisa's third tip was to find a woman who has it all together—marriage, motherhood, faith, diet, house—and run. Such a woman is not safe. Her appearance of perfection becomes a standard she will put on you. Lisa said we need to find someone who knows we're all doing the best we can, someone who's fallen and knows how to receive God's grace so she can give it to you. This woman will be a real friend. I found myself nodding; that's me and that's most of my friends—the ones whom I call to say that I had a bad day and they say "I've had those days too."

Finally, Lisa told us that we can't connect with someone else head to head—we need to connect heart to heart. In all our moves and attempts to re-establish community, I've come to realize that there's an elusive, unpredictable element to friendship. I have friends whom I haven't talked to in months whom I can call up and start chatting with and it feels like we just saw each other yesterday; we have that heart connection. Or sometimes I meet a new woman and we start talking and totally lose track of time—again, there's a heart connection, a totally unexpected something that pulls us together as friends.

Who you are is what your friends need, so offer yourself. A real friend will encourage you to be yourself. Again, that struck home with me, because so often during my teenage years, I was putting on a show, trying desperately to be the person I thought my friends wanted so that they would be my friends. In university, I realized that I could be myself with my friends and that was a wonderful, freeing feeling. It was safe to be vulnerable with that group of girls, and that was a tremendous gift to receive.

Finally, Lisa related friendship to our faith relationship. Think of Emmanuel—God with us. He put Himself into a human body so we could relate to Him. He spent thirty-some-odd years, walking the earth, touching and hugging and forming relationships with all sorts of people. Now, as Paul says, "You are the body of Christ and parts of each other" (1 Cor 12.:27 CEB). We are called to be His arms and hands to the people around us.

So take some of Lisa Welchel's tips to heart; reach out and find a friend today—or hug the friends you do have. Please take a minute to share what you've learned about being a friend or how a friend has touched your life. And if you haven't yet stopped by Monday's post, do so and enter the giveaway for a copy of the Common English Bible!

Behind the Scenes

2011-11-30T13:43:00.002-07:00

Last night, my husband and I went to see Jitters at the Belfry Theatre. We enjoyed several plays there last year, so I bought a subscription this year. Jitters is the story of a small theatre company trying to put on a new play by a young playwright while hoping that the play gets picked up by a New York producer and taken to Broadway. It was two hours with two intermissions, but it felt like the shortest play I've seen and we laughed through every act.

One thing that fascinates me about plays is the sets—how a small crew can turn a stage into a completely different place that fits the needs of every act in the play. For Jitters, the whole set turned completely around during the intermissions. For Act 1 and Act 3, we saw "front of house" as the actors rehearse their lines for the upcoming performances; for Act 2, we saw "back of house" as the actors prepare for the opening night of their play (amidst personal and professional turmoil).

That behind-the-scenes look applied to the play as well as the set. I learned in my drama class last year that the playwright is often intimately involved in the production of his or her play, and that was demonstrated during this play. I also found out more about what Stage Managers do by the at-first voice-only presence of Nick. It was interesting to see the characters of the different actors on-stage and off, especially once we'd gotten to know them.

Towards the end of the play, the theatre company reads a critic's review of their opening night. The critic slams the lead actress but gives high praise to an actor who constantly forgot his lines. Thinking about that, I realized that as the audience, we see only the finished product. We don't know how the lines were supposed to sound, who came in too early or too late, or who stood in the wrong place. Oh, I noticed a couple places where actors stumbled on lines, but overall, it seemed smooth and flawless.

Similarly, in the writing business, we never see all the work—the rough drafts and rewrites and edits—that go into the short story in a magazine. We never see the translator struggling over a sentence, whether this word stays truer to the original language or whether that word sounds better in the new translation. We never see the author slashing scenes and adding other scenes and crying over their computer at night because the words won't come together. That all happens behind the scenes, so that what we as readers hold in our hands seems like a perfectly effortless piece of work.

And that, I think, is what we want. We want the reader or the watcher to get so lost in the piece that they don't think about what went into creating it. There were many jokes in Jitters about art and how art is appreciated in Canada (underpaid actors and underpaid writers!), and yet we still keep doing it. Writers keep writing. Actors keep acting. And translators keep working to ensure that works like the Bible are as relevant and easy to read today as they were to the first people who saw those words on a piece of parchment.

I left the play laughing and yet inspired. It's a good thing to be able to poke fun at ourselves, to laugh at the things we work so hard at and to appreciate them at the same time.

If you haven't yet stopped by Monday's post, do so and enter the giveaway for a copy of the Common English Bible! And if you live in Victoria, I highly recommend Jitters—it's playing until December 18th. Have you seen a play (or movie) that inspired your own creativity?

Mailbox Monday and a Giveaway!

2011-11-28T10:07:00.003-07:00

For the last week and a half, I've been eagerly watching the mailbox. Of course, when I'm expecting a package, it seems like the mailbox is always empty. I patiently walk the girls there, hold one of them up to insert and turn the key, and stare into the big grey space. Nothing to carry back with us. On Friday, however, when Sunshine pulled the box open, a large brown envelope was lodged inside. A book-sized envelope.

I squeezed the parcel and tried to guess which book it was as I carried it inside. Then I grabbed the scissors and opened it. Out tumbled my Advance Reading Copy of Chris Fabry's newest novel, Not in the Heart. There's my Christmas reading, and I'm looking forward to it, because I really enjoyed Almost Heaven.

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Talking about mailboxes brings back a childhood memory for me. When my parents first moved from the city to our acreage when I was about two or three, our mailbox was three quarters of a mile away. Often, we did that walk as a family in the evening. Other times, Mom took us kids there in the afternoon. Various friends have expressed amazement that Mom could take three very young children on a one and a half mile walk, but I'm starting to understand... it was a chance to get out of the house and keep us kids from fighting.

Sunshine and Lilibet enjoy going out for walks too. Often in the afternoon, if they are starting to squabble more with each other, I'll say, "Let's go for a walk!" Instantly, the tone changes as they scramble for the door and get ready to go. We either walk down the hill to the beach or across campus to the gardens. Sometimes, I'm desperate enough to go out in the rain, putting up the top on the stroller and wearing my hat and rain jacket while we walk. Those are usually shorter walks. On the way back, we might stop at the mailbox, just in case... but it's only across the parking lot, not a long ways down the road.

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As excited as I was to see Not in the Heart, I was a bit disappointed. I've really been looking forward to getting my copy of the new Common English Bible. You may have noticed that in my recent posts on friendship, attitude, marriage, and advent, I referenced the CEB. This is a new Bible translation, in which translators were aided by "reading specialists working with seventy-seven reading groups from more than a dozen denominations . . . to ensure a smooth and natural reading experience."

I'm really excited to get this new Bible. If you're on Facebook, you can check out the CEB Group Page or drop by the CEB Like Page (where you can download some cool posters of various Bible verses). If you visit the CEB website, you can also compare translations, read selected verses, or read more about the story of this Bible translation.

Finally, LEAVE A COMMENT here for your chance to WIN A COPY of the CEB! Feel free to ask a question about the Bible (I'll be reviewing it after I receive it and possibly scheduling an interview as well) or tell me what your favourite Bible verse or Bible translation is. (Contest closes Friday.)

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Finally, this post is participating in the Mailbox Monday blog meme (drop by to see what other bloggers found in their mailboxes last week) and in It's Monday! What are you reading? blog meme (although I have to finish some critiques before I can start reading Not in the Heart!). Make sure you leave a comment to enter the giveaway before clicking away!

First Sunday of Advent: Preparation

2011-11-27T13:40:00.002-07:00

For years, I haven't been excited about Christmas. Lights appear, parades happen, parties are thrown, food is eaten, but it's just another year coming to an end. I go through the motions of the holiday though it doesn't feel real. I don't feel the excitement that everyone else does. There are things about the season that I like—the food and drinks that only come out once a year (eggnog lattes!) and the chance to get extended family together to catch up on the events of the past year.

What I miss, I guess, is that little-kid excitement. The way my younger brother used to lay on the ottoman in our living room, staring at the presents under the tree and dreaming of Christmas Day. The way a little kid might cross out all the squares on a calendar in the hopes that then he'll wake up on Christmas morning. The way that we felt on Christmas Eve, waiting for Dad to get home from work so we could drive to Grandma's place.

Maybe growing up means losing some of that wonder of Christmas. Lights are just lights. A Christmas tree means a big mess to clean up in January when the needles start falling all over the floor. Someone has to cook all that food we enjoy and then wash the dishes afterward. Getting family together means hours in the vehicle. And even the Christmas presents under the tree aren't what you wanted them to be.

Or maybe, if even Grinches and Scrooges can get into the Christmas spirit, so can I. This year has been different. Yesterday, I spent the day preparing for a dinner party to which I'd invited my aunt, uncle, and cousins. We went grocery shopping in the morning. Cleaned house in the afternoon. Pulled out all my Christmas decorations. Baked a ham and scalloped potatoes. Listened to my Christmas CDs. Rearranged the house to fit everyone around one table. I was actually excited, not only about the party, but about the coming Advent season—about Christmas and everything it brings.

The beautiful and delicious Christmas fruit cake my cousin made for our party

As I watched the clock to make sure the food was cooked on time and the house looked great before my guests arrived, I thought about the act of preparing for a big event. In the Christmas story my family (sometimes) read before opening presents, Zachariah holds his newborn baby sons and prophesies about what John will do when he grows up: "You, child, will be called a prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way" (Luke 1:76 CEB).

God spent years preparing for that first Christmas—thousands of years, actually. From way back in Genesis, we can trace the path that lead to the stable in Bethlehem. Even before His Son was born, He prepared Mary's parents to raise a godly daughter who would say "yes" to His request. He closed Elizabeth's womb until it was the right time for her to conceive the prophet who would announce His Son's arrival. He put a star in the sky to guide the Wise Men and did so much more to prepare the world He'd created for His one and only Son.

Christmas snowmen adorning our bookshelf

Advent is a season of preparation—four weeks before Christmas in which we prayerfully walk towards the stable in Bethlehem. This year, I'm excited about Advent, about using this season to teach Sunshine about Jesus' birthday and about using this season to prepare my own heart for Jesus' arrival. And you know what? I'm excited just to be excited.

How do you prepare for Christmas or keep your child-like sense of excitement through this season?

This Side of West Editors' Reading

2011-11-25T11:23:00.002-07:00

When I applied for a volunteer editor position with This Side of West (UVic's undergraduate literary magazine) back in October, I didn't really expect to get it. Last year, I'd been been told that they hired mostly upper-year students or those who had been involved with the magazine in the past. I forgot the submission deadline, didn't make it to any of the events, and missed the magazine launch in the spring. This year held more opportunities to get involved, whether or not I was part of the team choosing what gets published in the magazine.

And I am. I was delighted to get the email from Editor-in-Chief Vanessa Herman (whom I know from a class last year) saying that I would be one of the Creative Nonfiction Editors this year. So far, we've had one meeting to plan the year, one brunch to get to know each other, and an editors' reading on Thursday night to promote the magazine.

On Wednesday morning, my husband asked me if I'd picked what I was going to read yet. "I'll do it today," I said. I was thinking of sharing the Virginia Woolf parody I wrote for my creative nonfiction class last year, but when I read it to my husband, he wasn't sure about it. It wasn't "me," he said, even though it was descriptive and interesting. On Thursday morning, I dug through some older files, going back to the very first creative nonfiction class I took during my first degree. I rehearsed both stories during the day, and Sunshine even asked me, "Read it again, Mommy." That evening, I read both stories to my husband and my cousin (who babysat for us). They voted on the second story.

By 6:00, we were in the Jeep on the way to the reading. Intrepid Theatre was small and quiet when we got there; black curtains around a stage area, forty-five chairs arranged on risers. Within half an hour, it was packed with the 55 people who had RSVP'd on Facebook and more. People sat on the floor around the microphone and stood in the doorway. Four friends from my fiction class who arrived just at the start of the reading ended up in the corner behind the microphone. My husband and I had gotten seats in the third row up, so when it was my turn to read, I had to climb over several people to reach the stage.

When I got there, I had no idea what to say to introduce my piece, so I just said "hi" and started reading. And I could show you what I read that night... or I could just read it for you.

Book Review: The Love & Respect Experience by Emerson Eggerichs

2011-11-23T07:11:00.003-07:00

I knew the parcel from the post office was my newest book for review, but I still opened it as soon as I got into the Jeep. My husband looked over when I pulled the book from its bubble envelope.

"Wow. Is that real leather?" he asked.

"I don't think so," I said, stroking the soft brown cover and running my fingers over the title: The Love & Respect Experience: A Husband-Friendly Devotional that Wives Truly Love by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. The book just begged to be held and looked like a manly book.

The Love & Respect Experience consists of 52 short devotionals (each is only about two or three pages). Dr. Eggerichs explains that he wrote the book in response to feedback from his Love & Respect seminars. In writing each devotional, he "tried to keep them brief but still provide enough substance for busy people on the go." (That sounds like us!)

The bite-sized portions made it easy for my husband and I to find five or ten minutes to sit down together and read. Usually, I read the chapter aloud to him and then we talk about it. Because this devotional book is laid out in 52 chapters, setting a one-a-week commitment to read and pray together might be a great way to approach it. (We didn't do that, just because we were trying to read enough that I could review it.)

In each chapter, Dr. Eggerichs provides a Bible verse, a devotional, an "insight" that summarizes the ideas of the devotional, and then prayer suggestions and ways to put the devotional into action. He uses material from couples who have read his book or attended his conferences, and also includes anecdotes from his own marriage. The book contains discussion questions in an appendix, which can be used for group study or for starting discussions as a couple.

I found that The Love & Respect Experience was a good review of what I knew from reading the book years ago. My husband, who hasn't read the book, says some things might make more sense if you have read Love & Respect; in this devotional, Dr. Eggerichs uses the "jargon" he coined in his earlier book. And in chapters 7 and 8, Dr. Eggerichs refers readers to more material found in Love & Respect.

One chapter that caught my attention was chapter 5, in which Dr. Eggerichs explains the 80:20 ratio. He looks at 1 Corinthians 7: 28, where Paul says that "married people will have a hard time" (CEB). Dr. Eggerichs explains that "around 80 percent of the time, your marriage can be categorized as good or even great while around 20 percent of the time, you may have troubles of one kind or another." He choose 80 and 20 randomly to illustrate his point that "God does not promise a fulfilling, trouble-free relationship." Our culture would like us to believe that marriages end "happily ever after," and if they don't, then we must have married the wrong guy. But that's not what God says. So Dr. Eggerichs counsels, "Do not live by the sandards of Hollywood; trust what God says in His holy Word." He advises husbands and wives to focus on the 80 percent that's good in their relationship, rather than the 20 percent of the time that they have bad days or face stressful situations. His insight for this chapter is, "Every marriage includes trouble some of the time. Do not let the 20 percent leaven all the rest."

I'm looking forward to finishing this book with my husband. In only the first dozen chapters, it has lead us to talk more openly about some issues in our marriage and to start praying together again. I appreciate Dr. Eggerichs' bluntness and honesty, and his insight into both Scripture and marriage. Wives, this would be a beautiful Christmas gift for your husbands (make sure you read the introduction to understand what he means by a "husband-friendly devotional"). Husbands, I'm sure your wife would also love to read this book with you.

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Check out more marriage advice at Sheila Wray Gregoire's blog To Love, Honour, and Vacuum. Today, she's hosting Wifey Wednesdays, where bloggers can share their perspectives on being a wife.

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Has a marriage book or conference such as Love & Respect influenced your marriage? Have you had an "ah-ha" moment in your relationship, such as the one I had about the 80:20 ratio?

I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

The Power of Positive Thinking

2011-11-21T09:38:00.006-07:00

Last week was a good week. I say that because it's rare that I can. In most weeks, there's at least one day that goes wrong—a day when I am super tired or the girls are super whiny or I don't accomplish as much of my to-do list as I want to. Sometimes those days affect other days and I feel down and grouchy and just want to crawl into bed and hide. But not last week.

Last week was a good week, and in some ways, it was deliberately a good week. One thing that struck me at Women of Faith was that it was easy to have a great time at an event like that. It would be much harder to remember everything that I learned there, and to hang onto that positive attitude, once I got home. I also read an article in Natural Life magazine that recommended "right thinking" as a natural way to overcome depression. Heather Mattern explained,

When you are recording the things that you are grateful for, research has suggested that it helps your mind focus and search for the positives throughout the day, instead of the negatives. Much of the time, depression stems from this negative thinking. I know that my time and energy are often spent dwelling on the messy failures and disappointments of my day. When my head hit pillow at night I often started wallowing in all that I should have gotten done, or all that I should have done differently.

I could identify with what Heather said, but I was skeptical—writing down positive thoughts could really push away depression? This week gave me a chance to test it out.

On Monday morning, I kept Sunshine home from gymnastics because she had a bad cough and a runny nose. We spent the morning doing housework. All morning. Normally, stacks of dishes by the sink and dirt all over the floor would stress me out, because they are urgent tasks that keep me from things I'd rather be doing—like writing. On Monday, I just tackled one task at a time, without worrying about what I needed to have done by the end of the day. I also followed the girls around. When they were upstairs playing in their room, I folded their laundry there. When they were at the table eating their snack, I washed the dishes so I could watch them and talk to them. By the end of the day, I'd actually gotten a lot done (and a clean house makes me feel good).

On Thursday, I felt like I spent most of the day in the Jeep. I took the girls to their music class in the morning, came home for a few minutes to check email, ran Sunshine to preschool, came home for a few minutes to work on a critique, then went to pick up my husband for an appointment. I took my book with him while I was waiting, but it was still frustrating to be doing that instead of the critiques I needed to finish. At least it gave me an opportunity to do some of the reading that my fiction instructor keeps urging me to do. By the evening, when I was heading rock climbing (yay!), I didn't want to sit in the Jeep for the half-hour drive out there. I dug through my CD case, found some worship music, and found myself singing all the way out to the gym.

Small things that made a big difference. As Heather says, "If I wake up thinking of all the things that I have to do and begin feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, then my day ends up being overwhelming and frustrating. It just happens. I must change my way of thinking, and it starts with looking for the gifts upon waking." I'm learning to take each day as it comes, and to appreciate my daughters and my husband, rather than worrying over everything that "must" get done.

"Why, I ask myself, are you so depressed? Why are you so upset inside? Hope in God! Because I will again give him thanks, my saving presence and my God." (Psalms 43:5 CEB)

What makes the difference between a "good day" and a "bad day" for you?

How to Be a Friend

2011-11-18T07:35:00.002-07:00

When I first saw Lisa Welchel's book Friendship for Grownups, I wasn't very interested. I kinda wondered how she could write a whole book on friendship. I mean, it's not that hard—is it? I should have realized, from all our moves and from my desire to return to Alberta because "our family and friends are all back there," that friendship is harder than it seems. As I heard Lisa talk at Women of Faith, I found myself thinking hard about what she said.

Lisa shared how she grew up in the '80s as the lead actress in the TV show The Facts of Life (if you recognize the show, yes, you just revealed your age; I didn't know the show, but my husband did—he even remembered the name of the girl Lisa played when I described her as "the blonde main character"). Lisa was so busy learning lines for the show that she didn't have time to learn about friendships as most people do in their teenage years.

I could identify with that. By the time I reached junior high and high school, I didn't have many friends. Two of my friends were in public school; they didn't get off the bus until 4 pm and usually had homework to do. My homeschooling friends around the block had moved to Colorado. And my best friend, who had been homeschooled, was now doing part-time courses at the local high school as well as distance education courses that required a lot of time. My friends became the characters in my novels until I reached university.

As Lisa talked, I found myself nodding and taking notes. She shared there's a difference between being vulnerable and being transparent. It's easy to be transparent when writing a book or a blog post or speaking to five thousand women at a conference; there's an arms-length distance that makes it safe. It's harder to be vulnerable when you are speaking one-on-one with a close friend, opening your heart to him or her—and risking getting hurt. I can think of only a couple people whom I'm truly vulnerable with; one is a friend who went through all four years of university with me.

Lisa went on to say that our hunger for connection is stronger than our fear of rejection. That's easy to see in people who've suffered from a bad romantic relationship, yet start a new one right away. God created us to be in relationship, both with him and with each other; think about how He said in Genesis 2:18, "It’s not good that the human is alone. I will make him a helper that is perfect for him" (CEB). We're still afraid of being alone; we still want someone who is "perfect" for us.

Lisa Welchel's words touched a hole inside me that made me realize I still thirst for friendship—but I won't get that by hiding myself. I need to reach out to my friends, even to my family, and to risk being vulnerable. I've come to realize that too often, I get busy with my writing, my routines, my daughters and I don't make the time to connect with my friends. Clicking "like" on a Facebook status to show that I'm aware of what a friend is doing doesn't count as connecting! My challenge to myself is to pick up the phone at least once a week to call a friend.

Can you relate to either my experience or Lisa's? What friendship advice would you offer?

Why Writers Need to be Editors

2011-11-16T07:22:00.008-07:00

A small title on the cover of the June 2009 Quill & Quire magazine laying on the table jumped out at me: THE DECLINE OF IN-HOUSE EDITING. In every book I've reviewed lately, I've noticed at least one typo (and in the case of one author, published by a major publishing house, a lot of dangling modifiers). I've wondered about that trend—is it because I'm more aware of these things as I do more editing or because of something happening in the publishing houses? I picked up the magazine and quickly read the two-page article.

Writer Stuart Woods talks about the reality that today's editors "are increasingly overtaxed—squeezed by a barrage of submissions on one side and a lack of time and resources on the other side." I don't think the news has gotten any better in the two years since he wrote his article; more publishers have faced cut-backs or bankruptcies and more bookstores have closed. It's thus a sad fact of the times that many editors can't work with writers as they did in the past, but are now just "glorified project managers."

What does that mean for writers? Submissions must be really good to catch the attention of the editor. Not just really good in terms of story, but also really good in terms of spelling and grammar, because "editors at practically every house are looking for manuscripts that need as little work as possible." Or, as freelance editor Meg Taylor told Woods, "The news is out that you have to have a more polished submission, that you can't risk it just ending up in the slush pile."

Writers must have an excellent grasp of the mechanics of writing, and for the most part, they must learn this themselves—schools (at least in Canada) are no longer teaching grammar. I was lucky to have a grammar-heavy English curriculum from the States, which pounded prepositions and gerunds and proper use of semi-colons into my head until I was ready to scream. Now, I'm grateful for that education, as those things come second-nature to me.

In all the reading and critiquing I've been doing lately for my workshops, I've come to appreciate editors more. Many of my classmates are fantastic writers—they have amazing life experiences to draw on or a poetic voice that brings their subjects alive—but that is sometimes lost beneath bad grammar. I don't want to read a sentence three times to figure out what it means. It's one thing to have deep writing which encourages multiple readings for greater revelation; it's quite another thing to have sloppy reading that requires multiple readings (if your reader is that patient) because the writer didn't know about dialogue punctuation or comma splices.

If you are a writer, buy a good style guide (such as The Canadian Press Stylebook or The Little, Brown Handbook) and use it. Find some good critique partners who can tell you "this is confusing" or "this is out of place" and learn from your mistakes. Take a grammar or editing course (look online or try your local university). Hire an editor who can coach you through your manuscript, telling you what things you need to work on. As a writer, you must now be an editor too.

Mommy's New Shoulder Bag

2011-11-14T07:40:00.002-07:00

When I started classes again this September, I began looking for a school bag. We have bags all over the house, so you'd think that would be an easy process. It wasn't. Last year, I used a book bag given to me by my favourite English professor when I graduated with my BA. That bag is now my rock climbing bag. I tried other bags, but they were all too small or too big or the wrong shape, and I didn't want to spend money on a new bag.

At Women of Faith, I noticed my friend Joanna had a nice shoulder bag. When she commented she'd made it, I thought, "I could do that!" The Monday after we got back, when I was doing laundry and chasing the girls and trying to return to normal life after a weekend away, I dug out my fabric bin. Lilibet was napping and I was too tired to concentrate on editing stories. Plus, a sewing project seemed like something I could do with Sunshine.

She oohed and aahed over the fabric—satin scraps from my wedding dress and my university grad dress; lengths of flannel I bought before she was born, intending to make sleepers; a piece of bright pink linen that might someday become a dress for me (or her). Nothing suitable for a bag. As I stacked the fabric back in the bin, I caught sight of two pairs of pants I'd thrown in: a pair of jeans with a broken fly and a pair of cargo pants with holes in the bum. They'd once been my favourite pants, and still had a lot of good fabric, so I hadn't wanted to throw them out. As I eyed them, an idea grew up in my head.

Sunshine chattered to me while I spread out the cargo pants and began cutting and ripping. "What's that? What's this? What are you doing?" She unrolled my tape measure and offered to help and ran around with bits of fabric. When I got out my sewing machine and began stitching, she stood beside the table and watched.

"Mama Bear did that for Sister," she said.

"What?" I asked. She repeated the statement. It took me a minute to put that together with the Berenstain Bears DVD she's been watching recently. Then I felt guilty. Apparently it's been so long since I sewed anything that she only knows what a sewing machine is from a TV show. The only time I've gotten my machine out lately has been to do mending for my husband.

By the time I finished my bag, several hours later, Sunshine wanted a bag for herself. My project had taken longer than I expected and I was ready to put everything away again, but I looked at the pair of jeans. It took me only a few minutes to transform the pant legs into two little bags—one of her and one for Lilibet, now up from her nap. (I've learned life is easier when everything comes in twos.) For the next week, the girls carted their bags everywhere; Sunshine even insisted upon using hers as a snack bag for preschool.

I'm quite pleased with my bag, which is just the right size of my papers, holds my coffee cup upright (so it doesn't even spill if it's full!), and has space for my pens too. If you want to try making a bag like this, check out my step-by-step article on the Untrained Housewife.

The girls and I with our new shoulder bags

Poppies, Uncles, and Remembrance

2011-11-11T07:27:00.014-07:00

You can tell November is approaching when the poppies start appearing. Sunshine loves the poppies; last year, my aunt took them walking across campus in the week before Remembrance Day and they found poppies all over. I view them a bit more sceptically, as the plastic red flowers fall off her coat or seem ready to poke her at any opportunity.

This Remembrance Day, here's what I'm thinking about:

My great-uncle is the only man on my dad's side of the family to serve in the war. He passed away this summer, just before his one hundredth birthday. I had the opportunity to visit him in the hospital when I was there in July, but I'm not sure that he remembered either me or my daughters.
If you haven't yet watched Ray Comfort's new documentary 180, which used the Holocaust to start a discussion about abortion, I urge you to do so. My generation is getting far enough from the war my great-uncle fought that some people don't even know who Hitler was or what he did. I find it mind-boggling to consider that soldiers from as far away as Canada and Australia fought to stop Hitler when normal people living right next to camps like Auschwitz didn't even realize what was happening there.
Lisa Hall-Wilson, a fellow Canadian writer and blogger, wrote a great post earlier this week about Canadian contributions to both World Wars and how we are different than our American neighbours.
Six years ago today, my husband and I went on our "marathon" first date together. Later, when we were talking about what, exactly, was our first date, and arrived at this particular moment in our friendship, he said, "I knew there was a reason I was going to remember that!"
If you are looking for some thought-provoking and inspirational reading this weekend, check out Pages of Stories special nonfiction War Issue. Available either online or in print, this magazine has stories from all over the world and about both World Wars as well as other wars around the world.

Remembrance Day is Reading Week here at the university, so I get a day off from my nonfiction class—a whole extra week to work on this round of critiques. I'm not sure whether we'll try taking the girls to any ceremonies, but I'm hoping to find a few hours to work on revisions to my first fiction assignment. However you spend this day, may it be a day of good memories and appreciation for what our parents and grandparents have done for us.

Oh, and I've been working on my blog... check out the titles underneath my picture above. I updated my Editing & Writing information, changed a few links in Visit My Friends, and added a page about my Book Reviews.

What is Literary Fiction?

2011-11-09T09:58:00.002-07:00

Towards the end of last semester, I was talking to a fellow writing student about what classes she was planning to take. I mentioned I was hoping to get into the fiction workshop and asked if she was also taking fiction. "Oh, no," she said, "I can't write the kind of fiction they want here."

That seems to be a common conception about literary fiction—it's hard to read and hard to write. I'm not going to say it isn't, because writing is hard work and some types of fiction do require more of the reader than others. I think the key difference between literary fiction and non-literary fiction (or genre fiction) is that literary fiction is about character and genre fiction is about plot. There are, of course, exceptions to the rule, but the literary fiction I've read explores human nature—why someone would do something, rather than how he or should would do it.

Author and former literary agent Nathan Bransford says it slightly differently:

"In commercial fiction the plot tends to happen above the surface and in literary fiction the plot tends to happen beneath the surface.

"Most genre fiction involves a character propelling themselves through a world. The character is an active protagonist who goes out into a world, experiences the challenges of that world, and emerges either triumphant or defeated. ... Sure, the character might have an inner struggle and be a richly rendered character, but for the most part genre novels are about the exterior—they are about how a character navigates a unique world.

"Now consider literary fiction. In literary fiction the plot usually happens beneath the surface, in the minds and hearts of the characters. Things may happen on the surface, but what is really important are the thoughts, desires, and motivations of the characters as well as the underlying social and cultural threads that act upon them."

It is this close look at "the thoughts, desires, and motivations of the characters" that makes literary fiction "hard" to read and write. I would much rather be doing something—even if it's dishes or laundry—than reflecting upon my mistakes. So a story—even a short story—that devotes a lot of words to reflecting upon what is a small but significant event in a character's life can be tough to read. And tough to write.

Some of my favourite literary fiction titles

I just handed in my second story for my fiction class (that's it for this semester, thankfully). Both times I've handed in material for this class, I've written two stories before finding the one I wanted to workshop. The first stories didn't feel "literary" enough. And that is a nebulous definition, one I've reached by reading a lot of fiction—both genre and literary. It's easier to recognize what I like about the literary fiction I've read than it is to actually write stories which explore character in the same way.

While I often despair of writing like the authors I admire, I've come to this conclusion: whatever I write, I will try to be the best writer that I can be. Whether I'm working on my YA fantasy novels (genre fiction for sure!) or short stories for my university fiction classes (and trying to be more literary), I'll grapple with the words and the plot and the characters and all the elements that must come together to make a good story—whether it's literary or not.

A Big Piece of Dark Chocolate, Please

2011-11-07T10:05:00.000-07:00

One Wednesday night a couple weeks ago, I was trying not to fall apart while I made supper and counting down the hours until I could go rock climbing with my cousins. Lilibet had been clingy and whiny all day and Sunshine had been asking a thousand "whys" and pestering her sister at every opportunity. When my husband walked in the door, I was in the kitchen with the girls, trying to throw together a curry for supper.

"What's that?" Sunshine asked from her perch on a chair at my right elbow, watching as I scraped the surprisingly pale flesh from a dark purple eggplant.

"Eggplant," I said shortly. It had been roasting in the oven for an hour and was supposed to be soft now—the recipe said "mash and add to the curry"—but it was about the texture of an apple. And hot. I dropped a piece, grumbling under my breath, and stacked it on the cutting board to chop.

"Why?" asked Sunshine.

"Because it is," I said. "Go play with Daddy." He'd changed out of his work clothes and disappeared into the living room to check his email. Lilibet began pushing buttons on the toaster, which she was sitting beside on the counter. I dumped the knife and cutting board in the sink, rinsed my hands quickly, and put her on the floor. She wrapped both arms around my leg and began howling. I clenched my teeth, took a deep breath, and put her back in the corner of the counter.

"Oh, I have a rugby practice tonight at the law school," my husband called from the other room.

I thought, I'm going to scream. I looked at the clock. Okay, hold it together until bedtime now. "All right. I'll go rock climbing tomorrow night," I answered him. That solved our problem about what to do for those two nights—both of us had about three different places we could have been on Wednesday and Thursday.

Somehow, I served supper, cleaned up, and then checked Facebook while the girls played. I updated my status to "A tall glass of wine, a big piece of dark chocolate, a hot bubble bath, and absolute silence, please." Then I put the girls to bed, worked on my writing assignment for two hours, and went to bed myself.

The next day, I laughed when I saw what one of my friends posted on my status update. She said, " "I'm sorry to say I was slightly relieved to see that someone else was having one of those days. :)" Yes, we all have days like that—days when the girls make a mess as soon as I clean it up, get more Kraft Dinner on the floor than in their mouths (yes, I feed my kids KD), days when they fight more than they play, days when nothing happens the way I want it to. And yeah, it does help to know that other moms go through it too.

Those are the days when I pick up the phone, or pack the girls into the stroller to walk down to the beach, or grab one of my favourite mommy books (for the bath that never happened), or just throw the to-do list out the window and sit down to read their entire bookshelf of stories together.

Love Your Coffee Mug

2011-11-05T14:11:00.002-06:00

One of the first things I noticed about my husband when I met him was his backpack. While every other student at the university carried a standard black and some-other-colour backpack (mine was black and maroon), he had a khaki brown, military-style rucksack. One pocket on the outside held a battered green thermos. Every morning, he filled that thermos full of coffee and then, throughout the day, topped up his travel mug until riding the bus home with empty thermos and mug at the end of the day.

By the time we married, he had a new backpack (yellow and black, standard style, with the university logo on it) and a new travel mug (a gift from me for his graduation). He'd given up on the thermos and now carried a small jar of instant coffee in an outside pocket on the backpack; hot water was readily available around the university.

His travel mug is always stainless steel and black, though it's been through several incarnations in the near-decade I've known him. It first shows up in my photos albums at my graduation; we took pictures in my friend's backyard between the grad ceremony and the reception that evening. We're standing under an apple tree, whose green leaves and white blossoms match the corsage pinned to my shoulder. He has an arm around my waist and my arm is over his shoulder; I'm smiling, but you can't see his smile because the coffee cup is in the way.

One of our friends commented on how often the travel mug shows up in our honeymoon pictures. Nearly half of the photos of my husband feature the mug. It went on the hikes with us and all around the cruise ship. There's a series of pictures where I'm holding the mug because he wanted to take some pictures—or maybe I was cold out on the deck of the ship and just borrowed the mug to warm my hands. In the next picture, I'm holding the mug out to him, smiling for the camera. The last picture is him with his mug again.

They say that when you love someone, his (or her) habits begin to wear off on you. I hadn't been dating my husband for very long when I started using phrases like "it's all good" that I learned from him. Picking up the coffee mug habit took a big longer, even though I've had a personal mug since my days working as a summer student at my dad's office during university. Sometimes, when we went on road trips for the weekend, I'd fill my mug with hot chocolate or tea while he was making coffee.

I didn't start using my own mug until I worked at Starbucks and became a more serious coffee drinker. As baristas, we were encouraged to use personal mugs for the five free drinks we were allowed per shift (hey, in a week, that's a lot of paper cups). Starbucks also offered a discount for customers who brought in their own mug, but I was surprised by how few people did that.

I was unpacking a new shipment when I found my mug. It's curvy and slender, light green, grande size. I bought it for my birthday (before my husband could find a way to sneakily buy it without me noticing). Since then, I've come to love my mug. It keeps drinks hotter for longer than a paper mug and it's easier to drink from. Sometimes, when I'm thinking about buying a coffee, I'll decide not to because I didn't bring my own mug with me. Other times, when I'm thinking about taking my mug, I'll decide not to because I don't want to cart it around all day.

Recently, several mugs went missing. My husband started using my mug—the one from my summers working with my dad's company. I wanted to say, "Don't lose that mug!" but I didn't. He did. He put it down on the bus, he said. I called Victoria transit; had they found it? Yes, they had. The girls and I took the bus the next day and made a detour to pick up my mug. (Moral of that story: carry a mug that's easy to identify, just in case you lose it.) He jokes he's just trying to find an excuse to buy a new Contigo mug we've heard good things about. Environmental reasons aside, may I heartily recommend a travel mug to you—it's much more convenient and personal.

Explore: Seattle, Washington

2011-11-03T07:15:00.010-06:00

About two weeks ago, Joanna emailed me to ask what I wanted to do while we were in Seattle. I had been so busy trying to make sure I had my homework done before the weekend that I hadn't even thought about Seattle. "Um, maybe visit Pike Place Market and definitely go to the first Starbucks," I emailed back. We exchanged ideas and links over the next few days and in the end realized we were both trying to travel cheap, which ruled out quite a few "touristy" options.

The Seattle Space Needle provided a handy landmark for the entire weekend. Women of Faith happened in the Key Arena right underneath the Needle, so we just had to walk until we got to the Space Needle and then look for the Arena. I find it hard to adjust my sense of direction to a new city, but the Space Needle helped as we just had to look up to know where we were. Seeing the city from the top would have been neat, but we didn't figure that the view was worth the admission price.

Changing views of the Seattle Space Needle

The Olympic Sculpture Park was located just down the street from the Key Arena, so when the conference ended on Saturday night and we wanted a bit of a walk, we headed there. The park is built on a sort of overpass above a freeway and the railway tracks—beautiful manner of disguising the ways we get about a city. We followed the trail that zigzagged back and forth until we'd crossed from downtown to the beach, and then we continued down the Elliot Bay Trail for a little ways, talking and admiring the changing sunset over the water.

Olympic Sculpture Park, Seattle, at sunset

At one point, when we'd pulled out a little tourist map to decide if we wanted to keep walking or turn back, a jogger stopped to ask us if we were lost. That was a common reaction we got when we were looking at maps; Seattlites are quite friendly to tourists! She assured us there wasn't much more to see along the trail, so we turned around, as we still had to walk up Capitol Hill to our B&B (drop by Joanna's blog for pictures and descriptions of this beautiful place).

On Sunday morning, we walked to Pike Place Market. Like any market on a Sunday, it was packed with people. A grocery store had its fruits and vegetables neatly arranged in colour-coded rows. We braved the lineup in the original Starbucks, which had the friendliest baristas I've ever encountered. In the market, Joanna and I tried on hats and wished for more money, then browsed a bookstore in the basement, where I found Goodnight Seattle as a way to show the girls where I'd been and, if we ever make it back, to talk to them about where we'll go.

Seattle Public Library

From there, we went to see the Seattle Public Library, which my cousin had told me had some cool architecture. I was expecting neat old stone building, in keeping with some of the other historical buildings we'd seen around the city. Instead, as we hiked up the hill, we saw a modern glass-and-steel building whose shapes defy definition. Inside, we took the elevator to the tenth floor to look out over the city and admire the library itself (which had a "writer's room" on the ninth floor).

Back in the elevator, I looked at my plane tickets and realized that I'd better get myself on a bus... so we hiked the few blocks to the bus stop and said hasty goodbyes. I had some quick last glimpses of the city from bus and seaplane before leaving Seattle behind... with a promise that I'll be back, because there's so much more of this friendly city I want to see.

Seaplane to Seattle

2011-11-01T11:29:00.001-06:00

Fuel fumes filled my nose as the seaplane taxied slowly across the water. In the time it took me to boot up my Netbook, the pilot steered us through Victoria's inner harbour. Just as I began typing, he turned the corner and picked up speed. Instead of the bump of water beneath the floats, I felt the lift of wind beneath our wings. We soared over the lighthouse at the end of the breakwater and I realized that the white dots below us were seagulls gliding above the blue-green waves.

“I’d like to promise it’ll be smooth,” the pilot had told us after giving us the usual information about where life jackets were located. “But it won’t be. It was rough coming here.” He had just flown in from Seattle and was now taking us back there.

The earplugs expanding slowly to fill my ears didn’t cut out the sound of the plane’s engines. There were seven of us on the ten-passenger float plane. One young man, flying by himself, took the co-pilot’s seat. I wondered if, like in a vehicle, I’d be less prone to motion sickness with a forward view. Straight below my window, the waves looked like greenish linoleum; at the horizon, they melded into a smooth blue expanse with no separation between sea and sky.

Gusts of wind sent the plane bouncing unpredictably. I thought of my daughters shrieking with glee as I bounced them on my knees and wondered why it was so delightful. My stomach sent signals that it didn’t like this bouncing either. I focused on the horizon, the boat in the distance, the gauges and switches I could see through the doorway into the cockpit. Why was the plane so warm? I stripped off my vest, then my sweater. Then I closed my Netbook and put it away.

Twenty minutes into the flight, land appeared below us again—first a rocky cliff plunging down into a line of white waves with curves of the rock showing where the water had carved out this cliff and trees daringly clinging to patches of dirt. Houses appeared as squares in larger squares of lawn or fields cut from the dark evergreens of forest. Reds and yellows of deciduous trees dotted the greens. All very pretty, except that my head still felt hot and my stomach was complaining about the mocha I’d had just before takeoff.

Downtown Seattle from the plane

I cast covert glances at my fellow passengers. The man beside me stared straight ahead, his face as serious as his black business suit, despite the orange earplugs sticking from his ears. The lady two seats in front of me leaned against her window, occasionally tossing comments across the aisle to her friend or pointing out the scenery below. Behind me, an older lady typed at her laptop or took notes on a scrap of paper. I envied her; I'd planned to spend this hour of travel working on critiques for my class or having some uninterrupted writing time.

I peered down at the scenery below, hoping desperately this was Lake Union we were flying over now and we’d soon be landing. But as the water stretched on, zigzagging back and forth among boats and buildings and treelined coasts, I realized we were just following Puget Sound. My stomach revolted at the idea of more flying. I clamped my teeth together and reached into the pocket in front of me. A blue envelope had something about “motion sickness” on it and a white baggy inside. So much for what my fellow passengers might think of me—I opened the bag and let my stomach do what it wanted to do.

The plane continued bumping up the coast as I held my baggy like a best friend. I pulled my earplugs out and found that, despite the noise, my head felt better with my ears clear. Breathing deeply, I watched the scenery pass below and wished for land. Next time, I though, I’ll take the ferry—at least if I get motion sick there, I can step outside for some cold, fresh air to clear my head. Then the plane dropped towards Lake Union and began bouncing across the water, but the waves felt solid and good underneath the floats compared to the weightless bouncing we’d done up in the sky.

We walked off the plane together, took turns handing our passports to the customs’ officer, and then I found a garbage in which to deposit my baggy and stepped out into a cold, rainy Seattle afternoon. Never have I been so happy to walk in the rain.

The seaplane preparing to leave Seattle

I spent the weekend at Women of Faith dreading the flight back to Victoria and praying for a smoother ride. I didn’t eat lunch before getting on the plane; I didn’t read or get out my Netbook; and perhaps that, along with the nicer weather, helped me fly home without problem. Some things are better small, but some things—like ferries and planes—are better big.

A Women of Faith Weekend

2011-10-30T10:13:00.004-06:00

A month ago, I wasn't sure I'd be coming to Seattle this weekend for Women of Faith. Free tickets to the conference was great, but I still had to get here and find a place to say. And I hadn't found anyone who could come with me. As I tried to decide what to do about the event, my focus began to change. Instead of thinking of someone I'd like to spend a weekend with, I began praying, "Lord, You know who needs to be at this conference. Please put us together so I can help her get there."

Soon after, Joanna commented on Facebook that she was thinking about it. I said I'd love to have her join me. Within a week, we booked our plane tickets to Seattle and began emailing each other about what we wanted to do before and after the conference. This weekend has come to feel like a divine appointment. From the moment Joanna and I met at a small cafe here, we've talked nonstop—about editing FellowScript, homeschooling, the conference, children, our husbands, Seattle, our dreams, etc. We knew we would like each other because we read each other's blogs, but I feel like God must be smiling at how much fun we're having together this weekend and how He orchestrated it.

Joanna and I at Women of Faith

Joanna arrived here Thursday night and navigated the conference by herself during the day on Friday. When I flew in just before supper, I simply had to follow her around... to the Key Arena for the evening of the conference, to our B&B for the night, and back to the Arena this morning for the main event. And what a conference it has been. Today, I was scribbling notes in my little black notebook as each speaker seemed to say something that spoke right to my heart. I blinked back tears so often today and thought of so many things that I want to write about and change in my own life.

Sandi Patty encouraging us at Women of Faith

Sandi Patty, Brenda Warner, Lisa Welchel, Mandisa, Patsy Clairmont, Marilyn Mebourg—all these ladies shared their stories with us this weekend, opened their hearts to us. Sandi said we need to share our stories with each other so we can see how God has been faithful in the past—and we can trust He'll be faithful in the future too. It's easy to get bogged down in our current problem (or to just get busy with kids/school/work/etc) and to lose that focus. This weekend, and the stories these women shared about their own struggles—with weight, kids, faith, illness, loss—has felt like a drop of water falling into the desert my heart had become.

Women of Faith in the Key Arena

I came to Women of Faith skeptical. Yes, I like conferences, but I don't always go for big crowds and flashing lights and loud music. In part, the conference was just an excuse to get away for a weekend. Yet God knew that Women of Faith was just what I needed. I think He put my name in the right place to be chosen as a conference blogger and then nudged Joanna to come along (we're already talking about the possibility of returning next year... for another "drink from the well"...) I am so grateful to the Women of Faith team for putting the weekend together, to my husband for saying "go for it," to Joanna for coming, and to God who really did know who needed to be here.

To see what Joanna had to say about the conference, check out her post.

Stop and Listen to the Music

2011-10-28T07:54:00.002-06:00

He stood on the edge of the main street through Alice Springs, holding a large cardboard sign that read “3 Jokes $1.” His long blonde beard, bushy and falling halfway down his chest, partly hid his cheery smile. The rest of his head was bald, as if his hair had all fallen off the top and landed on the bottom. A baseball cap shaded his face from the hot sun but couldn’t dim the bright twinkle in his eyes.

I sat inside the restaurant across the street as two girls walked up to him. He bobbed his shoulders in a comical way as they approached, and then, as they passed him something, began waving his hands around while still holding his sign. One of the girls burst out laughing and the other grinned. They stood there for some five minutes while he did most of the talking. I wished I could eavesdrop.

Down the street from there, a few days earlier I had passed another man busking in more conventional style. His deep voice could be heard from a block away as he crooned a country ballad and strummed a guitar. His black skin and curly hair seemed out of keeping with this white cowboy image, but his voice made up for the incongruity. His guitar case sat open on the ground in front of his sandal-clad feet, a few coins scattered inside. He watched his fingers rather than the passing people.

Like the man telling jokes, most people passed this man by without a glance in his direction. Unlike the joke teller, the passers-by could enjoy this man’s talent without having to pay for a demonstration of it.

On another evening, I walked by the harbour in Sydney and heard a sweet soprano voice drifting on the cool night air. The singer was harder to find, standing in the shadows between two lamp poles. Behind her, street lights reflected on the dark water. At this hour, the harbour was quiet and there were few people to appreciate her talent. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, and she wore white jeans and a pale shirt. There was no guitar case in front of her; she stood there with just herself and her instruments, playing for sole enjoyment – whether hers or the passers-by.

Those buskers stood out to me as I traveled in Australia. More recently, I walked up to the library here in Victoria with my daughters. In the open, airy courtyard, a man sat strumming a guitar and singing Gordon Lightfoot songs. When he saw the girls, he started playing “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain.”

We had a few spare minutes before meeting my husband after work and I had a frappucino to finish before we entered the library, so we sat down on a stone bench to listen to this personal concert. As he played “If You’re Happy and You Know It” and the ABC song, I dug through my wallet for some change. Passing the loonie to Sunshine, I told her to run over and drop it in his black guitar case.

Jonny Hann plays piano at Pike Place

I have often passed by buskers without acknowledging their music or even their presence. Yet I’ve come to realize that they make our cities a nicer place. There’s something delightfully surprising about coming around a crowded corner at the Calgary Stampede to find a man in full Scottish dress playing his bagpipes or walking the harbour here in Victoria while Darth Vader saws away at his violin. Now, if I see a busker, I smile and nod and if I have time, try to find some change in appreciation for their music.

Addendum: At the Seattle Pike Place Market on Sunday (two days after I wrote this post), I found this man busking. He played beautifully, but it was the sight of his cute little piano sitting on a busy street corner that made me almost laugh

Christian Publishing University Launches

2011-10-26T08:12:00.002-06:00

September 1 marked the start of a new school year for most people, as well as the launch of a new online school for writers: Christian Publishing University. A membership-based site, CPU seeks to bring together a wealth of information on the Christian publishing industry by offering online classes, consultations with authors and publishers, self-publishing assistance, devotionals and prayer support, an online store, and much more.

As a blogger, I had the chance to check out CPU for free during the month of October. While my schedule this month has been rather hectic, I did pop into the site several times. I'm always interested in learning more as a writer and I was excited to see a website targeted specifically at Christian writers. There are a number of great writing websites, but CPU promises insider information for Christian writers.

Max Lucado recommends CPU by saying, "The Christian Publishing University is a timely response to an increasing need. Christian writing needs to set the standard in published literature. CPU takes us in that direction. Aspiring writers now have a resource for guidance and instruction. I can envision this ministry as a blessing to so many people." While I agree with his comment about Christian writing, I didn't find the answer at CPU.

First, the website didn't strike me as being easy to navigate. I realize it's hard to organize a large amount of information (CPU is supposed to have 150 pages of information), but even with a neat sidebar, it seemed hard to find anything—or at least get to a place that provided me with information rather than more links to other pages. The links in the "Campus Guide" seemed to all send me to the same page of non-specific links, no matter whether I wanted to see information for "Editors and Proofreaders" or for "Authors, Poets, Playwrights, and Writers" (the latter being a very large category).

Second, CPU Director of Communications Mary Hollingsworth says, “So far, we’ve only scratched the surface. We’ll be constantly adding new resources, classes, and opportunities as we go forward. We have some really exciting expansion plans for the future.” But the blog (which you'd expect to be the most up-to-date part of the website) currently has only two posts, both made in early September. That was the first place I went, to see what they were talking about. The post on eBooks is timely and interesting, but nothing more has been added since.

Third, I had a hard time seeing anything here that was worth the membership price tag. I don't have a problem with paying for information but I do want to know my money is well spent. Especially when those other writers' websites I mentioned are free. After paying just to get into the website, you can pay more to speak with an adviser or take a writing seminar.

If you've had a different experience with CPU, feel free to let me know. Personally, I think my ICWF membership offers me way more—and it has a Canadian as well as a Christian focus.

Rosie the Guinea Pig Visits

2011-10-24T10:43:00.001-06:00

"Mommy, can we bring Zoe home from preschool?" Sunshine asked me from her carseat behind mine in the Jeep one afternoon while we were driving home.

Picturing her favourite Sesame Street character, I said, "Toys stay at the preschool. You have a Zoe doll at home to play with."

Sunshine kept talking and slowly I connected "Zoe" with something about a mouse. "Oh," I asked, "is Zoe the preschool mouse? We get to bring her home in a few weeks. Do you like her?"

"Yes," Sunshine said. "She's white."

Picturing a little white mouse, I was surprised a few weeks later by the size of the cage. Zoe, I discovered, was Sunshine's way of saying "Rosie." I loaded her pail of shavings into the Jeep when I dropped Sunshine off at preschool. After preschool, Sunshine carried Rosie's pail of pellets, Lilibet carried the water bottle, and I carted the cage. It just barely fit on the front seat of the Jeep. Once at home, I settled Rosie onto the blanket chest (which makes a great side-table) in our dining room and took off the cover of her cage.

Rosie was clearly not a small white mouse, but rather a light brown guinea pig with big brown eyes and a patch of hair missing on her back, revealing her black skin. She displayed her long teeth while chewing on the bars of her cage, and I read quickly down the list of "Rules for Rosie" to find out what we could feed her. Cucumber every other day (not very nutritional), pinkie-sized carrot once a day, very little pepper (too much calcium), broccoli was fine. Great, I had some broccoli.

The girls enjoy sitting beside Rosie, watching her. Lilibet says "hi, hi, hi" to her and Sunshine always wants to feed her. On Sunday afternoon, while I was canning pears, I found it quite companionable to have a little guinea pig watching me (and eating a few pear peelings). The smell of her shavings reminds me of the lambs and chicks I used to raise as a child, but I never had anything like a guinea pig. Late one night, as I dared to pet Rosie's soft fur after giving her some pellets, she whistled softly at me.

Tomorrow, Rosie goes back to the preschool. Technically, we're not allowed pets here, but I enjoyed seeing how the girls reacted to Rosie. So far, Rosie has held their attention longer than Siam-I-Am (who is now demonstrating that it's a good thing beta fish are hardy, as I try to feed him every morning... or every other morning...) and been a good way to teach them about feeding pets and being gentle. Maybe someday we'll take care of her again.

Explore: Goldstream Park

2011-10-21T07:15:00.000-06:00

Goldstream Park borders the highway about half an hour's drive outside Victoria. The park was named for a minor gold rush between 1898 and 1901, but these days, it is the site of a different sort of rush: every October, people come to see the salmon spawning. We have yet to see that; last year, we went in November and found more dead salmon than live fish and this year, the salmon are late.

Last weekend was a gorgeous, sunny weekend (albeit cool) here in Victoria and we took advantage of it to head out to Goldstream Park to hike the trestle trail. We'd been talking about this hike for a few weeks, but previous plans had been cancelled due to rainy weather. At the trailhead, I put Lilibet in the Ergo on my back and helped my husband get Sunshine into his frame carrier. She lasted about ten minutes there before she wanted down to hike by herself.

Sunshine hiking the Trestle Trail at Goldstream Park

Sunshine viewing Mount Finlayson from the railway trestle

Scenery beside the Gold Mine Trail on the way back down

The abandoned gold mine near the trail

Both girls thoroughly enjoyed the hike, making me once again think to myself that we need to do this more often. The trail was narrow but clearly marked, so I kept Lilibet in the Ergo for most of the hike (despite her complaints, until she finally decided to have her nap), but Sunshine enjoyed leading the way and climbing over roots and rocks. When she got tired, she asked to get back into the carrier, which was a great place for her to have a snack as well. We spent about two and a half hours climbing to the railway trestle and then following the trail past the old gold mine to the highway, where we hiked back along the highway, detoured down to the river, and then returned to the Jeep.

Virginia Woolf on Writing, Publishing, and Reading

2011-10-19T09:06:00.002-06:00

A few weeks ago, my husband was browsing the shelves at Russell Books when Lilibet decided she absolutely needed to nurse right now. I sat down in a convenient chair and, while she was busy, perused the nearby titles. The shelf at eye-level to my left was packed with Virginia Woolf books; most of them were paperbacks castoff (I imagined) by English students as soon as they'd written their essays or final exams.

Among the red and white paperbacks was one nice copy of Mrs. Dalloway that found its way into my hands as soon as Lilibet was done. I admired its size, stroked its smooth leather, touched the gold writing, and tenderly opened it to turn its thin pages. Inside, I found an introduction (lacking in all the paperbacks) in which Virginia Woolf's words about writing caused me to buy the book. Here is an excerpt.

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

It is difficult—perhaps impossible—for a writer to say anything about his own work. All he has to say has been said as fully and as well as he can in the body of the book itself. If he has failed to make his meaning clear there it is scarcely likely that he will succeed in some few pages of preface or postscript. And the author's mind has another peculiarity which is also hostile to introductions. It is as inhospitable to its offspring as the hen sparrow is to hers. Once the young birds can fly, fly they must; and by the time they have fluttered out of the nest the mother bird has begun to think perhaps of another brood. In the same way once a book is printed and published it ceases to be the property of the author; he commits it to the care of other people; all his attention is claimed by some new book which not only thrusts it predecessor from the nest but also has a way of subtly blackening its character in comparison with its own.

It is true that the author can if he wishes tell us something about himself and his life which is not in the novel; and to this effort we should do all that we can to encourage him. For nothing is more fascinating than to be shown the truth which lies behind those immense facades of fiction—if life is indeed true, and if fiction is indeed fictitious. And probably the connection between the two is highly complicated. Books are the flowers or fruit stuck here and there on a tree which has its roots deep down in the earth of our earliest life, of our first experiences. But here again to tell the reader anything that his own imagination and insight have no already discovered would need not a page or two of preface but a volume or two of autobiography. Slowly and cautiously one would have to go to work, uncovering, laying bare, and even so when everything had been brought to the surface, it would still be for the reader to decide what was relevant and what not. ...

But if one has too much respect for the reader pure and simple to point out to him what he has missed, or to suggest to him what he should seek, one may speak more explicitly to the reader who has put off his innocence and become a critic. For though criticism, whether praise or blame, should be accepted in silence as the legitimate comment which the act of publication invites, now and again a statement is made without bearing on the book's merits or demerits which the writer happens to know to be mistaken. ...

The reader it is to be hoped will not give a thought to the book's method or the book's lack of method. He is concerned only with the effect of the book as a whole on his mind. Of that most important question he is a far better judge than the writer. Indeed, given time and liberty to frame his own opinion he is eventually an infallible judge. To him then the writer commends Mrs. Dalloway and leaves the court confident that the verdict whether for instant death or for some years more of life and liberty will in either case be just.

~ Virginia Woolf, London, June 1928

Introduction to Mrs. Dalloway

New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co, 1925

Are the Berenstain Bears Good or Bad?

2011-10-17T07:57:00.021-06:00

Some of my best childhood memories are connected with books my dad read to us for bedtime stories. I remember borrowing library books he liked as much as my brothers and I—books by Bill Peet, Stan and Jan Berenstain, Dr. Seuss. As I've started reading stories to my own daughter, I find myself returning to those old favourites and rediscovering why I liked them so much.

I was shocked, however, when I picked up one Berenstain Bear book Sunshine found on her bookshelf. I began reading it to her with pleasant memories of my dad reading to me; by the time I finished, I was troubled with the image of Papa Bear as a big buffoon who couldn't do anything as well as his cubs. In Ready, Get Set, Go!, Mama Bear serves as timekeeper and coach while Brother, Sister, and Papa compete against each other. Brother and Sister can dive deeper, run faster, climb higher; the only thing Papa does best is sleep longest.

The Berenstain Bear Family

As I thought about that, I realized that generally, in the series, Papa Bear isn't the smartest bear in the house (at least in my memories). I began wondering why I would want to read a book to my daughters that disparages dads. I certainly don't want them to associate their dad with Papa Bear; I want them to look up to and admire him, just as I did with my dad. How do I foster that attitude when some of their books are presenting a different picture?

As I did some research on this question, I discovered many other parents and thinkers have questioned the message of the Bear family. While the books deliver morals and nice pictures (some say "too many morals" and "cheesy pictures"), several writers have called the Berenstains out for creating an anti-dad series. Then, in an obituary for Stan Berenstain, I found Stan's answer to these critics: "We've gotten unkind letters complaining that we are emasculating the men in the family. The absolute truth is that Papa Bear is based on me."

I can understand self-deprecating humour—but when your books become so popular that they sell more copies than Harry Potter, that image becomes universalized. Yet maybe it's starting to change. Over the years, the Berenstain Bears have undergone a facelift (one of Sunshine's DVD uses the older style of animation) and now Mike Berenstain, writing with his mother Jan, is producing a new series of Bible-inspired Berenstain Bears. I'm curious to see what Papa's role in those books in, though as I thought about this question, I realized that his character has already started to change.

Sunshine has two Berenstain Bear DVDs (purchased before I discovered the book) and in the newer DVD, Papa Bear is a more admirable figure. He learns to bake apple pies and dispenses some discipline—even though he falls behind on his taxes while Brother Bear is falling behind on his homework, so that they have to catch up together. Perhaps that's a more realistic picture of a dad as a man who makes mistakes yet still provides his family with leadership and a good example.

Liebster Blog Award

2011-10-14T19:46:00.002-06:00

I'm honoured that Mary Waind, a fellow blogger and Inscriber, just nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award. This award features bloggers with less than 200 followers in the spirit of pay-it-forward.

Rules: Mention and provide a link to the blogger who awarded you the Liebster and mention five other worthy blogs with less than 200 followers.

These are the five bloggers I wish to honour (in alphabetical order), with hopes that you can take time to have a peek at their blogs:

Joanna Clark Dawyd, another fellow blogger, writer, and Inscriber, whom I actually get to meet in person at the Women of Faith conference in Seattle in a couple of weeks!

Emily-in-the-Spotlight, a fellow mom and blogger whom I actually met through my husband (they studied together at university).

Roni Loren, a romance writer whose blog I discovered lately (she has lots of great writing tips and links).

Robin of Farewell Stranger, a writer from here on the island whom I've had the honour of hosting here on my blog.

Marcia Laycock, also an Inscriber and one of the best writers (and writing teachers) I know, who is currently chronicling her battle with cancer.

If you have some time, drop by to visit the blogs of these incredible women. I do, when I have time... which isn't as often as I would like it to be. And have a great weekend!

The Evolution of a Writer

2011-10-13T10:02:00.000-06:00

I grew up reading voraciously. We never had a TV, so instead of watching the latest programs, I’d sprawl on our brown plaid couch reading whatever book I could get my hands on. The bigger the book, the better. I had an adult library card long before I turned eighteen, because on a children’s card I could only borrow four books at a time, and that wasn’t enough to keep me reading for the week before we could make it back to the library again.

When I was ten, Mom gave me an old black dayminder in which to keep track of the books I’d read. I wrote down title, author, and the date I finished the book. Some entries are neat, carefully written in blue or black ink. Others are hastily scrawled in pink and purple. Many books appear multiple times; I read the entire Narnia series twice in one year. Many titles bring back memories, some vague as I haven’t read the books again, others fond as I know the books very well.

I suppose it was because I was reading so much that I started writing. I received a diary when I was ten and scrawled irregularly in it for the next two years. I wrote a few stories for school, about my teddy bears and what they did when I was out of the room. Another story was based on exploring an old abandoned house with my best friend, but I embellished it with what could have happened.

I was fourteen when I printed my first book. It was one hundred and fifty pages long, computer typed, single spaced. It is a fantasy about two people from enemy tribes who work to stop the fighting between their tribes. The ideas came to me slowly; the opening scene was a picture in my head as I sat at my computer, and the story unfolded from there. Then I got stuck at the end, unsure how to finish it, until a comment from Dad inspired me.

My family knew that, when I was sitting at the computer typing, I was working on a story. They pestered me for years to print something for them to read. I said I would when it was ready. Part of me was scared. What if they laughed at my ideas or told me my story was terrible? I was nervous about giving them my book for Christmas, and tiptoed around for the next few days while they read. I needn’t have worried. My brothers were reading over my parents’ shoulders and they all thought it was great. I started on the next book in the series.

In high school, I had my first story published. A short story I wrote about one of my lambs won honorable mention in an ICWF writing contest, so Grandma sent it to her small-town paper, The Olds Albertan, and it was printed. I wrote more stories about our animals, and those were also published and paid for. It was a thrill to discover that I actually was a writer and that people wanted to read what I’d written.

As I finished high school and thought about university, I never wondered what I wanted to do, only how to do it. I wanted to write; whatever I did would have something to do with writing. Journalism was ruled out pretty quickly, as we didn’t get a newspaper and I wasn’t interested in that. I wanted to write fiction. I finally enrolled in an English degree, which fed both my love of writing and my love of reading.

I should have realized my interest sooner than I did, but it took me almost two years to discover that I wanted to study novels. The books I read were novels and the stories I wrote were novels. I took the required English classes, whatever fit my schedule and interests, and enjoyed them. The 19th century novel course looked interesting because I’d already read most of the authors. The next year I was in the 18th century novel course, despite having heard complaints about how boring the novels were. As a writer, I was fascinated to see the development of the novel, from its beginnings to what it is today.

In university, I was so busy writing papers and essays that I didn’t have time to work on my stories or articles. They sat waiting on my computer, and every so often I’d pull one up and add a few paragraphs or chapters. I kept journaling, filling twenty journals in ten years. I published more articles, and when people asked me about my books, I’d say I would work on that when I finished university.

People assumed since I was taking English, I was planning to teach English (what else would you do with an English degree?). It was a good conversation piece. They’d ask where I was going to university and what I was taking, and then ask if I was going to teach, and I’d say, “No, actually, I’m going to be a writer.” Sometimes that ended the conversation, as my answer was so odd that the person I was talking to didn’t know what to say. Other people were more curious, wondering what I was going to write and if I’d already written anything and what sort of books I wrote. That last question bothered me for a while, as I wasn’t sure how to answer. Then I realized the answer: I wrote the sort of books I’d want to read.

Kimberley Payne, author of Fit for Faith, visits KBW

2011-10-11T07:44:00.004-06:00

Today marks the launch of Kimberley Payne's ebook Fit for Faith - 7 Weeks to Improved Spiritual & Physical Health. As a special promotion, today’s buyers will get free gifts (such as a free manuscript edit/critique from yours truly!) for each copy of Fit for Faith they purchase.

For details on the book, launch, and promotions please visit:

http://kimberleypayne.wordpress.com

An Interview with Kimberley Payne

Author of Fit for Faith - 7 Weeks to Improved Spiritual & Physical Health

Fit for Faith by Kimberley Payne

Are you looking for balance in your life? Believing that prayer, Bible study and journal writing are to the spirit what exercise, healthy eating and stretching are to the body, this workbook unites spiritual health and physical health through a 7-week program to lose weight and develop a deeper relationship with God. This workbook is a motivational tool to empower women to improve their health to live balanced, whole and joyous lives that glorify God.

1. How was the idea for the book born?

Although I was born and raised within the church, it wasn't until I attended a Christian women's retreat that I realized how much I had compartmentalized my life: family in one corner, work in another; finances here, health there, faith over there. I began to see that my faith shouldn't be kept partitioned off from the rest of my life. Instead, it needed to be intertwined with all the parts of my life. If I was going to follow Him as my Lord, God wanted me to include Him in everything and that included my health and fitness.

2. What authority do you have to write this book?

I certified as a Weight Instructor through the YMCA, then went on to certify as an Aerobics Instructor through A.C.E., then went on to certify as a Personal Fitness through Can-Fit-Pro.

3. There are many fitness books on the market. How is Fit for Faith any different?

Fit for Faith makes no assumptions about the reader’s spiritual walk. All levels, whether a new Christian or a mature Christian, can benefit from this program. It is a program for a new Christian who wants to learn about prayer, journal writing and Bible study in the comfort of their own home, but a mature Christian can still be refreshed in their faith and re-commit to a daily relationship with God. It is motivating with inspiring reflections included each day and Christian truths set forth in a non-threatening manner.

Fit for Faith makes no assumptions about the activity level of the reader. All levels, whether a sedentary individual or a seasoned athlete, can benefit from this program. It emphasizes overall health, not just weight loss. Expertise and professionalism are provided throughout the program in easy-to-read “fit tips” and goal-planning assistance. The program includes strategies that empower people to make small changes in their daily routines to improve the quality of their life.

Fit for Faith is a well-rounded balanced program that follows the stages of change and so inspires confidence and builds esteem.

4. What is your purpose in writing this book?

The purpose in writing is to share knowledge from the health and fitness field and to demonstrate that partnership with God always leads to success, in every area of life. It is designed with the message of the gospel at its heart.

5. What is involved in the 7-week program?

The Fit for Faith program starts with developing an action plan that includes exploring benefits and success strategies of exercising, healthy eating, and stretching the body and the spirit. Then, the reader moves into implementing the plan through a daily program of prayer, Bible study and tracking of healthy habits. Each week is capped with a review that is a natural lead into the next week.

6. Can the book be used in a group setting?

Fit for Faith is a simple workbook to support a person through their day. It is designed for individuals to participate on their own at any hour, and anywhere. However, the workbook is extremely versatile and has proven success as a group program. Leader’s Notes are available to work within a group setting that can also be used as an outreach program within a church or workplace.

7. What are the benefits of the program?

It's like having your own personal trainer, without the cost. There is a ton of useful information that helps the reader wade through the myths and misconceptions that are out there.

It's an awareness program. The reader is accountable to record their activities, and this helps to recognize where their strengths are and what areas they need to improve.

It's a lifestyle change. Over the 7 weeks, the reader will gain habits that last a lifetime.

8. Where else can we find you on the Internet?

You can drop by my website or my blog, find me on Twitter and Facebook, or check out my YouTube channel.

Distracted in Church

2011-10-09T07:30:00.000-06:00

A few months ago, our church held an hour of adoration following the Saturday evening Mass. My husband and I agreed there was no way the girls would sit through adoration (they can barely make it through Mass), but I really wanted to go. An hour to pray quietly, without doling out snacks and dire consequences for not sitting still, sounded heavenly.

My husband agreed to put the girls to bed while I went. It felt strange to drive to church by myself, even stranger to walk in without carrying a child and a diaper bag. I slid into a pew closer to the back on the right hand side, glanced around at the other people gathered, and tried to pray. I watched as another mom I knew sat in front of me with her young baby. I wondered if the girls were reading stories or playing with their dolls.

As Mass continued, I found I had to constantly drag my attention back to the prayers, the readings, the homily. Instead of making sure the girls weren't fighting or dropping toys over the pew, I thought about my stories and my to-do list and what I would blog about this week. Then I tried to focus on what the priest was saying.

As adoration started after Mass, I found myself remembering the first time I prayed in the presence of the Eucharist. I had been skeptical of the idea at first; what did it matter that we prayed with a piece of bread? As I came to understand the Eucharist as God Himself, I came to understand the power of adoration. One day, shortly after moving into my first apartment in the city, I walked ten blocks to a nearby church that offered perpetual adoration and spent some time contemplating the reality of God present in that room. It was a profound, moving time for me.

Now, as I knelt in the church with other young people, I found myself wanting to recreate that experience. I wanted to feel close to God again, to know in my heart that He was present here. Yet that sense of distraction continued. I wondered if the girls had gone to bed or if they missed me. I watched the other mom with her baby. I stared at the Monstrance on the altar; the distance between me and God felt a lot further than twenty pews.

That night, I learned I don't need my children to distract me from God; I can find enough distractions in my own head. I learned that trying to meet God once a week or a few times a year at special services doesn't create closeness. Instead, I need to cultivate in my own heart a quiet attitude of prayerful meditation. I need to find time in my daily routine to seek God, so that weekly Mass and special services become special, extra moments to connect with Him. I need God present not just in the Eucharist at church, but in me.

I Hit the End of My Rope

2011-10-07T07:52:00.000-06:00

I can picture the round, grey holds, the way I pushed down on one with my left hand and wrapped my right hand around the other, trying to get a secure grip. I can picture the hold for my foot, not even twelve inches away from where my right toe is pressed onto a tinier hold. I can picture the rough beige wall in front of my face, the twenty feet below me to the floor and the ten feet above me to the final handhold. Then the picture shatters in pain.

I bounce at the end of the rope, clutching my right arm above the elbow. Pain screams up and down my bicep—or is it my tricep?—and I gasp, "I think I pulled something. Put me down."

My cousin's friend is belaying me and he lowers me without a word. I find myself wondering if my cousin would have lowered me just as quickly—usually when I tell her "I can't do this anymore," her response is "Yes you can." She's never let me quit halfway up the wall and because of that, I've always made it to the top, even after I thought I couldn't anymore. This time is different. This time, I've hurt myself.

Standing on the floor again, I ask for help unknotting the rope around my climbing harness. Then I watch as my cousin belays her friend up a wall. I swing my arm, trying to determine how much I hurt it and whether I can keep climbing or not. I don't want to quit yet; I was ready to challenge myself with a 5.10c route I tried last week (and that my cousin had to coach me up while refusing to let me down). She's been working on that route for a month, so I borrowed her expertise to climb it myself, though I spent a bunch of time just hanging out on a particularly hard underhang.

That was last week. This week, I went to the climbing gym with my cousin and two of my neighbours. My arm still protested a bit when I picked up Sunshine or Lilibet or reached above my head, but overall it felt pretty good. I won't challenge myself this week, I thought. I'll just climb some easy routes...

Rock climbing

Rock climbing has become for me almost an addiction. Every Wednesday night, I meet my cousins and various friends at the gym for a couple hours of scrambling up the wall. Even if I'm tired by suppertime from trying to convince the girls not to shriek at each other or whine at me, walking into the gym somehow re-energizes me. Here, all I have to think about is the best way to climb a wall and which route I want to try this week. I like to challenge myself, to come away at the end of the night with the feeling that I pushed myself hard and succeeded at something I couldn't do last month—or even last week.

So on Wednesday night, after I watch my neighbour climb the 5.10b route that wrecked my arm last week, I rope in to do it again. It's an easy climb, until I get to the same holds that stumped me last week—the place I sat, mustering up the courage to make the move that sent pain shooting down my arm. I'm not going to do that again, so I try to remember what he did to get past this section. I attempt some new moves, twisting myself in ways I haven't before, ignoring the distance to the floor below me, trusting he's got my rope. And I make it to the top. My hands are sweaty and shaking as I ring the bell, but there's a sense of triumph coursing through me as I'm lowered to the floor again.

An Apprentice Writer

2011-10-05T07:18:00.004-06:00

Classes are now well underway and, while I'm a bit overwhelmed by all the reading and critiquing I have to do, I am thoroughly enjoying them. At the end of last year, I was questioning whether I should continue with the writing program. My introductory classes were frustratingly introductory and childcare was leaving me very stressed out. My husband convinced me to give the second-year workshops a chance, so I registered in both nonfiction and fiction and waited for September.

Every week, I receive three brand new stories to read and critique for my fiction class and about six or seven new stories to read and critique for my nonfiction class. The stack of paper is daunting; I read each story once just to get a feel for it; a second time to leave margin edits; a third time to leave more margin edits and to write a detailed response; and sometimes a fourth time to leave more margin edits or to add more to my response. Then I hand that back to my classmate, and hope that each of them spent as much time and thought on my story, when it's my turn to be critiqued.

Each time I pick up one of the stories (especially the fiction stories), I feel a sense of privilege. I am one of the first people to read this story—a story that might someday appear in Pages of Stories or The Antigonish Review or the author's first collection of short stories. This author has trusted me to look at his or her work and offer my opinion—and, believe me, that is no small trust. It takes courage to hand a piece of writing, especially a piece of fiction, over to someone else and to say, "Can you help me with this?"

The idea of sitting in a room while fourteen other people talked about something I wrote was daunting at first. I was one of the first students to submit work in my fiction class, and thus one of the first to receive critique. It was an amazing hour as I listened to what my fellow writers had liked about my story—a piece that I've been working on for a few years now and even had critiqued before—and what they thought could be improved. Frankly, it was the best critique I've ever received. I left that class feeling empowered to expand that story to its fullest potential.

My nonfiction instructor challenged each of us to think of ourselves not as students but as apprentice writers. He said that these workshops would fit better at a technical college than at a university; we are not learning abstract theories, but rather doing hands-on work in our chosen field. Each of us is gaining skills here that we can put into practice immediately as we work toward becoming professional writers. I leave every class feeling excited and energized, ready to go home and write.

Organized Chaos

2011-10-03T07:57:00.000-06:00

This is a picture of my room, taken sometime between graduating from university and moving into my own apartment (back when I still had a film camera and wanted to use up the last of the roll so I could get it developed):

Yes, it always looked that neat. I had a place for everything and everything in its place (and the desk you can see there was built with that in mind; I had a particular way I wanted everything organized). I'm actually surprised there's a pile of books on my dresser; it looks like the wedding magazines and Weddings for Dummies book I was reading right then... a "current project" stack that sometimes occupied the corner of my otherwise clean desk or dresser.

At every job I worked, I got comments about how clean my desk was. My office space was never cluttered with piles of paper like everyone else's was. Maybe it was because I was just the lowly summer student or the newest editor on the team so I had spare time when the others were logging overtime hours, but it was more that I just don't like clutter. I like neat spaces, and lots of space, so I kept my desk empty and organized, just as I kept my room and my truck.

That was five years and two kids ago. Now, my living room is more likely to look like this:

Living with two little girls is like living with a perpetual hurricane. I could spend two hours trying to get Sunshine to clean up her toys (even going outside to play with her friends is seldom enough motivation to put all the dolls in the strollers), or I could do it myself in twenty minutes (give or take, by the time I put all the Little People in their house, return the magnets to the fridge, fold the blankets they were hiding under, stack the dollies in the stroller, return the blocks to the bag, pile the purses by the armchair, hide the small toys in the end of the couch, carry the broom back to the toy kitchen...). And as soon as I've put anything away, Lilibet decides that's exactly what she wants to play with.

Being a mom appears to mean living in a constant state of organized chaos. I'd love it if I could always see every inch of my living room floor, if the books were always stacked on the bookshelf, and if every toy had a perfect spot (and would magically retreat there when I waved a wand or said the right words). That isn't reality, though. If the toys are scattered all over the floor, then I know that the girls had fun together... that Sunshine built a block tower by herself (a recent accomplishment) or that they pretended they were mommies taking care of babies or that they went for quite a few walks (with frequent "bye byes") with their purses, pretending to be just like me.

So while I could wish for a personal Mrs. Doubtfire like my friend Emily, I try to look at the toys and remind myself that someday, I'll miss this mess. Someday, I'll have a perfect house once again; until then, I have two happy, amusing daughters who keep me on my toes and remind me that life is about more than a clean house.

Q&A with Carla McDougal on Living for Jesus

2011-09-30T07:18:00.000-06:00

Carla McDougal is founder of Reflective Life Ministries headquartered in the Houston, Texas area. Her true passion for her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, shines brightly whether she is speaking or writing. She shares experiences from her own life to encourage women to live every day for Him. God is sending Carla around the world to speak to women from all walks of life—those living in the best of circumstances to those who have hit rock bottom.

Carla’s book, Reflecting Him: Living for Jesus and Loving It, is a 10-week study that encourages you to open your eyes to God’s daily life lessons. The more you ask God to be in your life, the more you will recognize His hand on everything you do. For more information on a growing number of products from Reflective Life Ministries, and to see about booking Carla for an event or interview, go to www.reflectivelifeministries.org.

Product descriptions of the Reflecting Him Bible study

Carla's book caught my attention because I've been struggling recently with fitting God into my everyday, busy life. I really enjoyed the way that Carla uses everyday objects—pottery, the human body, the rooms in our houses—to illustrate faith principles. For example, I've heard all the Bible verses comparing God to a potter and Christians to clay, but until Carla explained the pottery process and helped me dig into those verses, I didn't really understand them. While her study is intended for a group, I used it by myself and found it insightful and uplifting. Here's a Q&A with Carla about living for Jesus.

Q: What practical steps can believers take to be less self-focused and more God-focused?

A: Life is not about me, but all about Him. This phrase changed my life. Prayer is the key to keeping your eyes on Jesus. The more we pray, the more God moves us to do His will and not our will!

Q: You say it’s important for believers to discover how to pray everyday prayers. What does this mean? I heard a speaker say she would never bother God to help her find her lost keys or a good parking spot—how do you feel about that statement?

A: I pray about everything! Jesus tells us in Luke 16:10, “He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much.” We categorize prayers, God recognizes prayers. God wants us to bring everything to Him. Nothing is too small or too big for God! Prayer builds our faith and trust in Jesus!

Q: What are some of the blessings of having an intimate life with Jesus, and how does one develop that intimacy?

A: Humbleness abounds as I realize there is nothing I can do to earn an intimate relationship with Jesus. I can only obtain it through His grace and mercy, which He gives so freely. Jesus is my all in all.

Carla McDougal, founder of Reflective Life Ministries

Leave a comment here before October 7 for a chance to win an instant small group kit, including video teaching series, Bible study book, leader guide, and music CD! KCWC will draw one lucky winner on October 10. How do you find time for Jesus in your everyday life?

180 Film Changes Minds Regarding Abortion

2011-09-28T07:40:00.003-06:00

Last week on Facebook, one picture kept popping up in my news feed. A lot of people expressed wonder and amazement at the story of this mother using her own body to protect her baby during the earthquake in Japan.

I thought, Okay. Cool. Good example of a mother's love. But a bigger question bothered me. I've heard stories like this before—stories of a woman who wrapped all her clothes around her baby and froze to death while keeping him warm, or stories of a woman who starved herself while feeding her baby, or stories... so this story didn't really surprise me.

What surprised me was how the picture went viral on Facebook. How people were amazed at this picture. And in this day and age, such a picture—such a story—is remarkable. Why?

It's amazing that one woman would give her life so that her son can live in a world where millions of women aren't willing to give up nine months of their life to save a child's life.

In his new movie 180, author and film producer Ray Comfort takes to the streets to ask people some tough questions about abortion. He looks at Nazi Germany and points out that "those who forget the past are destined to repeat it." However, many of the people Comfort interviewed didn't know who Hitler was. Others denied that the Holocaust even happened. Already, we are forgotten history... and ignoring the holocaust happening in our own backyard.

I challenge you to drop by the 180 website and take half an hour to watch Comfort's award-winning documentary showing how some simple questions changed people's opinions from pro-choice to pro-life. He tackles some big issues (and maybe covers too much for 30-minute movie). How would you answer Comfort's questions?

Childhood Memories of Canning Pears

2011-09-26T07:41:00.007-06:00

One summer in my childhood, the pears arrived in small, 7-litre boxes rather than the much larger, 2-foot wide cases. My mom bought five boxes of pears. When they ripened, we canned them. My brothers and I each got one box to peel and my mom peeled the other two. I still remember the four of us sitting around the kitchen table, eating pear peelings as we worked through our boxes.

My box of Bartlett pears

Mom canned peaches, pears, cherries, applesauce and apple pie filling from our own apples, raspberry and saskatoon jam from our own berries, ketchup, pickles and relish from our own cucumbers, pumpkin from our own pumpkins. I remember the hours of work she put into the jars that I helped haul down into our root cellar. My brothers and I were mostly willing helpers, as long as we could snack on fruit peelings. When the jars were ready to put away, I had the job of creating fancy labels, worthy of Mom's work in preserving the food.

Last week, when I walked into our local green grocer, I saw a box of pears that took me back to my childhood. Bartlett pears, in fact—the ones that Mom watched for, as they were the best for canning (just as freestone peaches are). She waited until the fruit was in season and on sale at the local grocery store, and then she'd show up and pick up cases, as much as she thought she could put away in a day or two. I peered into this box, wondering what I would do with so many pears, and then I bought it.

Pear Cardamom Muffins

I ate a few pears and baked muffins with a scrumptious recipe I got from my neighbour. There was still most of a box of pears on the counter, attracting my swarm of fruit flies. I called Mom. How hard is it to can pears? Easy, she said, and outlined the process for me. I googled it the next day and found myself surprised that it was just the way I had remembered it.

When Mom was doing most of her canning, I wasn't really paying attention to how she did it, other than how many pears I had to peel or how many peaches I had to slice. By the time I might have learned how to do it myself, Mom was canning less and I had started university. Now, I look at canned fruit in the store and think it's so expensive. At the same time, I remember the hours of work that Mom put into feeding our family for the winter. Do I want to try learning that for myself?

Before this box of pears, I didn't think so. Now, I'm really tempted. If only I could invite my mom over and spend a day peeling pears together again, like we did when I was little.

Book Review: The Realms Thereunder by Ross Lawhead

2011-09-23T07:37:00.002-06:00

Reading Ross Lawhead's new novel The Realms Thereunder

There are some books that draw me into their world, their characters, so completely that I keep thinking about them after I've stopped reading. I want to know what happens "next," even though the book has ended and the story is resolved (to some extent, depending on the book). Sometimes, I find myself reluctant to start another book, because I want to hold onto the feelings and thoughts generated by this first book. Ross Lawhead's novel The Realms Thereunder was such a book.

I did not pick up the book simply because it was written by Stephen Lawhead's son. In fact, at first I wondered if the book would sell because of his name alone, whether it was well-written or not. I checked a few other reviews before reading it myself, and the general consensus was that Ross is just as good a writer as his father. It's been years since I read Taliesin, so I can't compare the son to the father. I can say, however, that Ross Lawhead can stand on his own name as a writer.

The Realms Thereunder is set in England, where dark forces are conspiring against the island. Daniel Tully and Freya Reynolds discover a hidden, underground city when they get lost on a school field trip. There, they are sent on a quest and learn about sleeping knights, gnomes and other enchanted creatures. Daniel, who has troubles at school and a rough home life, relishes the adventure; Freya, who comes from a well-to-do family, just wants to get home again.

Eight years later, Freya is a student at Oxford with OCD tendencies and Daniel is living on the streets; both are trying to forget their underground adventures, but strange things are happening. When they run into each other again, neither is sure that they want to renew their friendship. Then Daniel is sent from our world to Elfland and Freya is kidnapped by a changeling. Each of them realizes that they need each other—and they need to go back to the underground city.

In many ways, The Realms Thereunder reminded me of The Lord of the Rings. Lawhead spins a similar story of a quest, of small people being given big tasks, of dragons and trolls and mythical creatures with varying roles to play in the story, of wise men and women, of riddles and ballads. Like LOTR, this is a trilogy, and while the first part of Daniel's and Freya's adventures concluded at the end of the novel, there is clearly more to come (in September 2012, when The Fearful Gates releases).

Fantasy fans will want to get their hands on this book (now that I'm done, I'm passing it on to my husband). You can check out an excerpt of the book or buy it at the Thomas Nelson website. And from a writer's point of view, Janet Sketchley raises some interesting points about the book in her review (yes, I noticed the typos in the book and found it interesting that editors at big-name publishing houses miss errors too).

Book has been provided courtesy of Thomas Nelson and Graf-Martin Communications, Inc. Available at your favourite bookseller from Thomas Nelson.

Genni Gunn Talks to KBW

2011-09-21T07:57:00.001-06:00

I was delighted to have the chance to talk to Genni Gunn after reading her newest novel Solitaria. She is a fellow Canadian writer who has a BFA and an MFA from UBC. Genni has written a variety of books, including collections of poetry and short stories.

KBW: You are one of few writers I've encountered who has a degree in writing. How would you say that has influenced your writing?

Genni Gunn

Genni: My decision to do a degree in writing occurred in a roundabout way. Music and writing have been constants in my life. I went the musician route first, did three years of a Bachelor of Music and then played in different bands for a number of years. At a certain point, I decided I didn’t want to be on the road any more, living that particular life, so I returned to university to hone my writing skills.

I was very fortunate, because in the years I was at UBC, one of the professors I studied under (Robert Harlow) was the most amazing writer/teacher/mentor anyone could have. I am indebted to him for much of what I learned about the writing craft during those years. Of course it influenced my writing, in that Bob did not mince words, and would point out every single writing sin anyone made. He would not tolerate clichés, bad turns of phrase, sloppy sentences, etc. He wanted us to be aware of the different ways that a story could be told. In other words, he wanted us all to strive to be the best writers we could be. This does not mean that he influenced our styles, but that he taught us craft. And a facility with craft is what allows the writer to express, experiment and explore narrative in original ways.

KBW: Your bio sounds similar to David's. Would you say that he is a reflection of yourself?

Genni: I think all characters contain some parts of the author, and David is no exception. Is he a reflection of me? In some ways yes, and in some ways no. Like David, I was born in Italy, but I lived there for the first ten years of my life, versus David who comes to Canada as a newborn. This sounds like a tiny detail, but childhood is a monumental time for building character and for beginning to understand how to manoeuvre one’s way into the world. Whereas David is perplexed and bewildered by the larger-than-life Italian family, I am both participant and onlooker, and totally comfortable within it. Where I think we are similar, is in our identity, both of us with one foot in each culture.


Solitaria

KBW: You write detailed descriptions of Italy. Do these come from your memories or did you return to Italy to research the novel?

GennI; I have many relatives in Italy, and I went back every year for a number of years to do research (how fabulous is this?) on the novel. I carried a notebook and a laptop and a recording device, and took extensive notes, probably much to the annoyance of some people. Superimposed on this were my memories of Italy as a child, though not in the locations that the novel takes place, and not in the era of the novel.

KBW: Do you have a regular writing routine? If so, what is it?

Genni: I have a regular writing routine for about eight months of the year. The other four, I teach Creative Writing (September – December), so I don’t have time to write, but I make notes and keep an idea journal. When I’m not teaching, my regular routine is something like this: I work 8:00 am to 5:00 pm weekdays, and during those hours I can write or read or research. If I have nothing to write, I make notes. If I’m working on a novel, I give myself a 3-page-a-day minimum. So I consider myself fairly disciplined. However, life often interferes with my plans, and I go with that.

KBW: I was pleasantly surprised to see that the main character is from Vancouver. Most Canadian writers I've read set their novels in the States. Why did you chose Vancouver as David's hometown?

Genni: I chose Vancouver because I live in Vancouver and it’s a place I know and love so well. I don’t think I’d set a novel in a place I hadn’t been to, unless I did a lot of research, and even then, I’d have to be in the place to really understand the feel of it. What you can never get from only research is the sound of a place, the cacophony or silence of it, the scents and whiffs of foods or vegetation or animals. And of course, the snatches of conversations, the way people dress and look at each other, etc. – all these types of things can only be gleaned through observation.

KBW: Do you think it's harder to be a writer north of the 49th?

Genni: I haven’t ever thought of it that way. Being a writer is both difficult and exhilarating, and I don’t think geography can change that. Writers, like other artists in the cultural sector, are statistically the highest educated and the lowest paid. Yet we all continue to do what we love.

KBW: What advice would you offer to new writers?

Genni: Keep writing. Don’t be satisfied by the first thing that comes into your mind – it’s most likely the obvious. Dig deeper. Don’t be afraid to use the delete button. Edit, edit, edit. Revise, revise, revise.

Thanks, Genni!

Genni is giving away a copy of her book! Just leave a comment here to be entered in the draw. I'll draw one lucky reader on FRIDAY to receive a copy of Solitaria. (Contest open to residents of Canada and the United States only.) To find out more about Genni or her books, drop by her website.

Night Waking

2011-09-19T10:29:00.000-06:00

Into the deep drowse of dream comes a cry.
Fling off the covers.
Fling off the slumber.
Move—Where? What? Why?
Hallway, window, streetlights,
a baby, awake and alone.

It’s 3 am. Go to sleep.
Here’s blanket, soother, lullaby.
My eyes are slits, yours are wide.
The Baby Book says you
should be sleeping through the night.

Hushabye, I’ll hold you tight.
Trust like a blanket wraps us both.

Book Review: Solitaria by Genni Gunn

2011-09-16T07:36:00.011-06:00

One of the best things about being a book reviewer is discovering new favourite authors and reading books that I probably otherwise wouldn't pick up. Genni Gunn's new novel Solitaria came to me from the same publicist who promoted Come Sunday; because I had really enjoyed Come Sunday, I agreed to read and review Solitaria. It is one of the best books I've read this year; already, I want to read it again. I wasn't surprised to learn that it has been longlisted for the Giller Prize.

The story begins with a newscaster covering the story of a renovation crew discovering a buried body in an old Italian villa. We then meet two sisters-in-law, Piera and Teresa, who are going about their day-to-day lives when the news catches their attention... and they realize that Vito—Teresa's husband and Piera's older brother—has not spent the last twenty years in Argentia, as they thought, but has rather been lying several feet underground. Piera locks herself in her room, refusing to speak to anyone except her nephew, David, who lives in Canada. Slowly, the family assembles in Italy, trying to comprehend the murder and the mystery.

When David arrives with his mother Clarissa, Piera begins showing him her scrapbook. She has compiled the family memories, though her siblings dispute with "her" version of the events. Piera recounts what life was like growing up in Italy before, during, and after World War II. Finally, for the last chapter, the woman who has been solitaria in her room for years ventures out with David to revisit the place of the murder.

Solitaria is a complicated, spell-binding tale. Most of the siblings remain minor characters, brought alive only in Piera's words, but they each have something to say about the other. Piera herself is a complex character, as we are challenged to ask ourselves whether her memories are "the truth" or not. Her siblings present a view of Piera's character that clashes with what Piera herself gives us, yet only Aldo, one of the brothers, presents any alternative stories from their childhood.

Genni Gunn is a Canadian writer (born in Italy) who lives in Vancouver, BC. Like her, David also lives in Vancouver (though he spent summers in Italy with Piera during his elementary years), teaches at a university and does Italian translations. I liked having a Canadian main character in a novel—so many other Canadian writers set their novels in the US for their American readership. Gunn displays a deep knowledge of Italy and its culture, with fragments of Italian in the characters' speeches and detailed descriptions of the homes and villages in which the story takes place.

I would put Genni's book into that elusive class known as "literary fiction," but don't let that scare you away. "Literary fiction" isn't hard to read or to understand. It is fiction that prompts the reader to think on deeper things, fiction that (like Dickens) will stay around for a long time because of its timeless value. I read books like Bound By Guilt and The Fine Art of Insincerity to have fun; I read books like Solitaria to be inspired as a writer and to challenge myself to think about the issues that the author has so creatively brought to my attention.

Come back on Wednesday to read my interview with Genni Gunn!

Rocks and Rockslides

2011-09-14T10:03:00.001-06:00

Valley in Ram Range, AB

“You’re doing fine,” I assured Willie, giving him a smile. Glancing down the mountain, I wondered if the words were for his benefit or mine. My hiking boots were planted on the loose shale, my fingers digging into a boulder as I watched Willie inching down toward me.

We were hiking in the Ram Range, a mountain range outside the parks in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta. Willie was nine years old, my friend Anna's younger brother. He, Anna and I and five others of our group had climbed up a mountainside to a shallow cave, and then discovered that going down is harder than going up.

From where I stood just below the cave, I could look all the way down the valley to the east where we’d hiked the day before. The river snaked back and forth, early morning sunlight glinting off the water. To the west the valley continued around to the pass we’d be climbing later that day. Almost straight below us was our camp, where Anna’s dad, a mere speck, stood watching us.

Without letting go with my hands, I slid one foot down slightly, then the other. We’d climbed up an old rockslide, clambering easily over the large rocks at the bottom. Towards the top the mountainside had gotten steeper and the rocks more slippery, and we had to use hands and knees to get up.

The rockslide we climbed

After sitting in the cave, admiring the view, we’d started down. Anna and the others soon got ahead as Brandon and I went slower to help Willie. Brandon was in Grade 12 as I was and we were casual acquaintances.

Planting my feet again, I held my hand up to Willie.

“Slide down right here,” I said.

He reluctantly let go of Brandon’s hand and slid. When he was standing beside me, I continued on, feeling less secure now that Willie clung to my left hand. It meant I had one less hand to hang onto the rocks with.

Below, Jason waited, directing us over an awkward rock. He and Brandon were close friends, but while Brandon was daring, Jason was cautious. Like us, he was going slow. With Willie sitting on the rock, I let go of his hand and crawled down where Jason showed me, keeping my body low to the rocks. Then I turned to help Willie, offering my hand again.

The mountains were my domain, the place I loved to be. This was my idea of fun. Nevertheless, even I wasn’t immune to height and gravity. I was sure we would make it down, but a niggling little fear in the back of my mind considered what could happen if one of us made a wrong move…

Hanging onto the rock, I eased over to give Brandon room to get down. As I clung to the large, solid rock, a phrase drifted through my head: "Rock of ages, cleft for me, let my hide myself in Thee…" I found myself smiling, and thought, “Thank you, Lord.” My confidence returned, I continued down the mountainside, clinging to what bushes and rocks I could find and guiding Willie.

About halfway down we were over the worst of the rocks. I walked sideways, holding Willie’s hand, while Brandon took Willie’s other hand. We moved faster, jumping down the rocks until we reached the bottom.

As we continued hiking, every rock I saw reminded me of the words that had assured me of God’s presence and kept me going. Repeatedly through the Scriptures, God is referred to as a Rock. Clinging to the mountainside that day, I discovered just what that meant. God is the Rock I can cling to when life seems a slippery rockslide.

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; My God, my strength in whom I will trust; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” ~ Psalms 18:2

Growing Up Sisters

2011-09-12T12:35:00.000-06:00

Sunshine and Lilibet are playing quietly on the floor behind my computer chair. They have scattered their scissors, stickers, notepads and crayons all over the carpet, but they aren't fighting with each other. I've come to treasure that working-together silence; the times when they can play with each other or just side by side, without screaming or whining or poking or pulling or fighting.

I've enjoyed watching their relationship develop as Lilibet has grown up. Sunshine was delighted to meet her when she came home from the hospital. We have several cute pictures of Sunshine hugging Lilibet tightly (almost strangling her) with a huge smile on her face. Yet there were also times when Sunshine resented Lilibet, because Lilibet demanded instant attention when Sunshine also wanted something.

Looking back, it's hard to remember exactly when they began playing together. At six months, when Lilibet could sit in her Exersaucer and grab toys? At ten months, when Lilibet began crawling after Sunshine? At fourteen months, when she could stand beside Sunshine? Or now, as Lilibet is sixteen months and running after her sister, hugging dollies, pushing strollers, riding trikes, reading books, going potty, and in general trying to do everything that her big sister is doing.

The other morning, Lilibet woke up before Sunshine did. She ate breakfast with me and then sat on my lap while I checked my email. Then we heard Sunshine wake up. I let Lilibet down while I started to turn off the computer. By the time I got upstairs, Lilibet was already there with Sunshine, holding the shirt and pants that Sunshine had found for her to wear that day.

I grew up with two brothers and while I love them, I always wanted a sister. My best friend had four older sisters and one younger sister, and I enjoyed tagging along with them and pretending that, for a little bit, they were my sisters too. I'm happy that Sunshine and Lilibet have each other and I pray that they will always appreciate the special relationship they have as sisters.

Book Review: Espresso for Your Spirit

2011-09-10T07:30:00.007-06:00

I admitted in my last post that I often turn to books for help and encouragement. When I saw Pam Vredevelt’s book Espresso for Your Spirit: Hope and Humor for Pooped Out Parents, I quickly downloaded it. The book didn’t offer to solve any of my parenting questions; it simply offered encouragement from another mom who’s “been there, done that” and knows what it’s like when the dishes are piling up and the kids are bickering and you didn’t get any sleep last night.

Espresso for Your Spirit is the second ebook I’ve read. It came with Adobe Digital Editions when I downloaded it, which is like an e-reader on your computer and makes it easier to “flip” pages and leave bookmarks. While I still prefer print books (this one could have sat in my bathroom with my parenting mags, since that’s sometimes the only time I have to sit and read), I found the short chapters made it easy to read before checking my email or while waiting for the computer to do something else. A few of the chapters were unusually long, leaving me thinking, "Get to the point already."

One chapter that spoke to my heart was “Percolating Prayers.” Often, I’ve criticized myself for getting too busy to spend time with God. I used to be able to read several chapters of my Bible before starting my daily routine; now I’m running from the time the girls wake up until I get them into bed. Pam shares how she connects with God through short, daily prayers. She lists examples of these prayers in Scripture and in her own life—just a few seconds in our daily rush when we can turn our thoughts to God. She says, “For those of us who are pooped-out parents, what matters most is that we connect with God and link our soul with our Source. As the gentle touch of a light switch generates power to illuminate a room, so, too, our little prayers connect us with God and release His energy to empower us for the day.”

Pam talks honestly about slumps and ruts—those days when a mom's energy is simply spent, when we don't feel good about ourselves and become overly sensitive about tiny issues. Then she says, "The best prescription for the Slump Syndrome is grace. We give ourselves grace when we refuse to expect more from ourselves than we can possibly deliver. We give ourselves grace when we grant ourselves permission to rest, sleep, play, take a break, and get alone with God. A few minutes of quiet interaction with God can get us out of a rut much faster than striving, trying harder, and forcing ourselves inot overdrive."

Pam is refreshingly honest throughout the book, sharing her own struggles as a mom of three. Each chapter began with a Scripture verse and an anecdote from her life (or from her counselling experience). Most chapters were short and “Power Perks” appeared between chapters to provide tidbits of humour, advice, or inspiration. Like Chicken Soup for the New Mom’s Soul or Blue Like Play Dough by Tricia Goyer, this is a book I’d be happy to share with my mommy friends (or I would, if I had a print copy to pass around. You're more than welcome to come over and sit at my computer to read my book. I'll even brew some coffee for you).

This book was provided for review courtesy of the publisher.

Blogging for Books is now setting aside 50-100 free copies of various titles each month to be given to YOU, blog readers. If you read and rank my review, you'll automatically be entered to win a free copy of this book. Blogging for Books will notify both of us if you are chosen as a winner and they will ship you your book.

Who's the Baby Expert?

2011-09-08T07:16:00.003-06:00

I’m a book person. When I want to know more about something, I’ll find a book on that topic. On my shelves, you’ll find a section of writing books, a section of marriage books, a section of baby books. When I wander through Chapters or a second-hand kids’ store, I scan the titles of the baby section. Maybe there’s a book I want (still haven’t found Henci Goer’s book) or that will promise to solve whatever parenting dilemma I’m currently facing.

A recent newsletter from Birth Source focused on parenting philosophies, talking about how “our generation’s focus on higher education and professional pursuits has only naturally led to our desire to parent as professionally as we trained and work(ed).” That rang a bell with me, because I’ve always thought that all the research I did in university influenced all the research I’ve done on various topics (vaccines, sleep, natural childbirth) since becoming a mom.

In the face of conflicting advice, though, parenting can get confusing. One mom wrote a parody in a Brain, Child magazine about interviewing Dr. Sears, Elizabeth Pantley, Dr. Ferber, and a couple other sleep experts for advice on getting her child to bed. I’ll admit a preference for Dr. Sears and a slight prejudice against how she portrayed him in the article. In the end, she ignored the experts and her baby fell asleep just fine.

Recently, my husband and I started reading Hold Me Tight, which is a marriage book but in the first chapter discussed some breakthroughs in psychology that began with how children are treated. Dr. Sue Johnson talks about how the terms “emotional starvation” and “failure to thrive” emerged in the 1930s and 40s to refer to youngsters in orphanages who had everything they needed physically but died for lack of emotional contact or seemed unable to relate to others.

Johnson talked about how parents in that era couldn’t stay in the hospital with their children. One psychiatrist, John Bowlby, made a movie about a family dropping their two-year-old girl off at the hospital. His colleagues weren’t moved by the girl’s tears and terror at being left alone in a strange place. Bowlby developed more tests to prove that “children have an absolute requirement for safe, on-going physical and emotional closeness, and that we ignore this only at great cost.” (Johnson then takes attachment parenting a step further and looks at what it means in adult relationships.)

What shocked me about reading how children were raised in that generation was that this was the advice of the experts of the day. Bowlby’s ideas about children’s emotional needs were ridiculed by his colleagues, who agreed with the “conventional wisdom [that] held that coddling by mothers and other family members created clingy, overdependent youngsters who grew up into incompetent adults.” Even today, there are experts who say attachment parenting will create wimpy kids. So which experts do you believe?

In the past four years, as I’ve talked to friends about their parenting styles and read a lot of books, blogs, websites, and magazines on the topic, I’ve developed my own parenting style. Some of what I do with my children may be different than what friends are doing with their kids. And that’s okay. We are different families with different kids. Each of us has to make the choice that is best for us in our situations, with our unique personalities.

I agree that “we all do our best parenting when we follow our instincts, but finding researched and proven support for that which we already feel in our hearts is profound” (Birth Source). So read and research what the experts are saying. But test it against your heart—your sense as a mother about what you and your child need.

September Write Mama Blog Carnival

2011-09-06T07:34:00.002-06:00

Welcome to the September 6, 2011 edition of the Write Mama blog carnival. As you get your kids (or yourself!) ready for school, here's a few great articles from other moms about writing and mothering (and even about teaching writing).

Moms and Writers

Toni presents Stories I Tell My Son: The Moon's Keeper posted at Wifely Steps.

siobhan curious presents Word Jars and Grocery Lists: Your Child's Writing Life by Pam Allyn posted at Siobhan Curious, saying, "I think this review - and the book it examines - might be of particular interest to your Carnival readers, as it deals with both parenting and writing, and how to encourage the writer in your child!"

Mothering

Jo Bryant presents Brothers and sisters… posted at Chronicles of Illusions.

Pamela Jorrick presents Real posted at Blah, Blah, Blog.

Sara Fagley presents Frumpy Mom Syndrome posted at 1-moms-ramblings.

Amber K presents What is a Mother? posted at Parent Palace.

Bonnie Way presents her tips on doing road trips with young children in How to Survive Long Drives with Toddlers posted at Untrained Housewife.

Writing

Tash Hughes presents Discussing automating social media updates posted at Word Constructions, saying, "Maximizing blogging by linking to social media makes good sense - but does the how matter?"

kellie hastings presents Can Writing Evolve To Become Linguistic Art? posted at Health-Earth-Self Awareness.

Bonnie Way presents Good Writers Can Write Anything posted at Inscribe Writers Online.

That concludes this edition, which will be the very last edition. I've appreciated all the moms and writer who have taken the time to share their articles in the carnival, but I've decided to discontinue this to focus on other things on my blog. Past posts can be found on the blog carnival index page.