Day 5 – The problem with NaBloPoMo

The problem with trying to blog every day for a month is that sometimes you write things in a hurry and don’t re-read them and they don’t hang together very well: like yesterday’s post.

Nothing profound to (try to) report today. Had lots of important conversations yesterday and will have more today:

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:: I love talking up some of the new books that are in or coming into Ambrose Bookstore. Four from yesterday include Redeeming Singleness (mentioned yesterday), A. B. Simpson and the Pentecostal Movement by Ambrose professor Charles Nienkirchen, The Next Christendom by Philip Jenkins, and Forgotten Voices by Barbara L. Howe.

:: Spent a couple of hours going through wedding checklists with K’s parents, especially budget considerations. Not always “fun” but important, with some entertaining moments.

:: Organizing the food catering team for our wedding.

:: Launching Samantha’s First Story at 10:30 this morning at Monkey Shines in Calgary’s Marda Loop.

:: Doing a pre-marital counseling session with K & Pastor Mel this afternoon.

:: Getting ready to spend some time with Kathleen McMillan on Monday morning and evening.

There’s an awful lot to do … but it’s good, it’s very good.

Day 4 – How to be Married

So I’m getting married. It’s the way of the world. People get divorced and they still try marriage (or at least relationship) again.

At 42 (I don’t mind telling you) I am approaching marriage for the first time. This will be my fiance’s second marriage. He is 37 and not the same man he was before, so this time his approach is radically different. Not just because he is more grown up or merely because he has learned a few things, but because he has been transformed by the gospel. He became a Christian after his divorce (through an Alpha course at our current church). He took a DivorceCare course and spent several years “waiting at the line of reconciliation,” being an attentive father, and basically learning to be faithful. After wind knocked him off a roof and out of the work force, he spend long days reading the Bible and theology. He has no formal education to speak of, but he is one of the most well-read men I have met. I have two masters degrees, and he constantly surprises, challenges and delights me with his insights.

My fiance’s perspective on marriage in light of Ephesians 5 refreshes, delights, inspires, and chastises me. Our courtship was long and he was so careful. Since he placed the symbol of his intent on my finger, I have been astounded and healed by his grace-filled care for me, but this not of himself, but from Christ through the Holy Spirit of God. He often laments that so much Christian writing on marriage (or anything) is just “therapeutic moralistic deism”: good ideas salted with Bible verses, but really no better than any person’s best ideas, and those ideas might make things “work” better, but ultimately they give us more things to do, placing burdens on our shoulders, not really freeing us from or for anything. So the Ephesians 5 call to a man to sacrificially give himself up for his wife is just a burden unless he stays in Christ (and in so doing to love his wife as Christ loved the church) and realizes that he can only love his wife (or anyone) because Christ has loved him first. A profound mystery.

Because of this, I am eager to share a new book with Kevin: Redeeming Singleness by Barry Danylak. Barry dropped it off at Ambrose Bookstore earlier this week.

 

Day 3 - did I say every day?

Quotidian challenge of NaBloPoMo. Every day. Did I really say I would write every single day for a month? And this just two months before my wedding? Hmmm. Must be certifiably insane.

Went to High River with my future in-laws yesterday to check out venues. We toured Highwood Memorial Centre and the Full Gospel church and booked both of them for Kevin’s and my wedding. Now am wrestling with invitations. Good grief. My wedding is 1.75 months away and we’ve barely started formally inviting people. Even so, we HAVE been spreading the word.

This afternoon I was longed to be a student again when someone invited me to supper with Rudy Wiebe. Alas, I could not go, but I got in on his lecture at Ambrose University College this evening, then sold several of his books afterwards. Got him to sign a few for me, too, and had the nicest little chat with him. Wish it could have been longer. During the lecture and the Q&A I thought of all kinds of brilliant things to blog about, but they have flown from my mind.

My calendar has just beeped at me to take my turn praying for Zac, a boy from our church who is having major surgery today. So I’ll publish this and do that …

Day 2 – I said yes

Today's NaBloPoMo writing prompt: Tell us the story of a piece of jewelry you own. Where did it come from, and what does it mean to you?

Kevin and I spent two weekends looking for rings. We found my wedding ring right away, a beautiful, elfin design that delighted both of us, but the engagement ring was more difficult because our tastes are quite different. I wanted a ring that we both loved and learned to watch his expressions: the blank look, the obvious frown, the pleased little smile. He bought this one on the spot.
As much as he wished I could wear it immediately, he wanted to ask my father's blessing first, so we waited a week until Thanksgiving (Canadian). On Saturday afternoon he went for a walk with Dad, and later that evening he went for a walk with me. He put his arm around my should and said, "I'm really looking forward to marrying you."

We found a secluded picnic table. He set the box on it and we sat facing each other on the same side."I don't really know the words," he told me, "but I want you to be my wife."

"I want to be your wife," I responded.

"May I put this symbol of my intent on your finger?" he asked.

Guess what I said ... :)

NaBloPoMo anyone? OR Blogs & online dating

I thought it was something post-modern when I saw it on Rebekah Joy Plett’s blog. You know: pomo. And maybe it is a pomo thing to do, but that’s not what NaBloPoMo means; it’s National Blog Posting Month, “the epicenter of daily blogging! People who want to set the habit of blogging by doing it every day for a month, including weekends, can come here for moral support, inspiration, and the camaraderie that only marathon blogging can provide.”

Why not? I get on and off the blogging bandwagon. Of course, when I’m off it’s because I feel like I’ve nothing to say. Or because I’ve got a lot going on in the depths of my being and am holding my cards close to my chest or am treasuring wonders in my heart, much like Mary in the early years of Jesus’ life (Luke 2:19 & 51)

I have two significant blogs: this one and Siretona Creative. Because of the two conversations theme, this is the obvious blog for the NaBloPoMo challenge. However, I hope it spins off to Siretona, because there are so many creative women (and men) you need to know about, and because I want to blog more regularly over there.

In the next two months and beyond, you can expect a lot of conversations about my upcoming wedding. That’s right: WEDDING. Something I wasn’t sure would ever happen (see Rambling Thoughts Towards a Book Review). But lo, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, the internet linked me with my knight in shining Chevy.

 

Online dating was a horrific experience, let me tell you. For about 4 years I subjected myself to it through Christian Cafe, a fair enough site with helpful guidelines and controls built in. I got involved with one guy for about 3 years through it, but he wasn’t right at all. (Don’t ask me why it lasted so long—I still puzzle over that. Mom says, “He spoke your language.” Sure.) Then there were the illiterates: the guys who would send inane messages and questions that could have easily been answered if they had read my profile. That’s why it was there: to be read and to jump-start conversations. Sometimes the filtering process was easier than others.

At one point, my brother Jeffrey forbade me to go on that site anymore. “But,'” I wailed, “they keep sending me three free days!” That’s when Jeffrey washed his hands of the mess. But then Kevin sent me the nicest note to encourage me and he included details that indicated he had read my profile. He didn’t expect it to go anywhere: he was in Calgary and my nearest city was Regina. But then I had a trip to Calgary so suggested we connect, which we did: four hours on a Friday night during which he talked my ear off, mostly about theology. At the end I asked, “Are things always this heady and intense in your world?” He replied, “Only when I’m having a good time.” I took it as a compliment.

We started corresponding and very soon he started calling, then I had a long stop in the Calgary airport, so he came for coffee and it was clear he was interested. Then he wanted to come see me and drove all night to spend a weekend in June with me at my brother’s place. We held hands. It was official.

I went to Calgary in July (5 days), he came to Sask in July (10 days), he came to Sask in August (2 days), I went to Calgary in September (4 days) and October (4 days) and suddenly it became clear that I needed to move to see if this would actually work. So on November 14th I packed my Crown Victoria and drove all night to Calgary.

It was a long, dark, difficult winter, yet it was important. The relationship did more than survive, so here we are, engaged to be married on December 30th. I love that man.

Aside from an accident and traffic tickets, lack of employment and income, feeling completely uprooted and dangling, I have chiefly wrestled with identity questions: who am I? what’s essential to fight for and what must I relinquish—or be prepared to relinquish? I knew those thoughts might make great blog posts, but I couldn’t tell the web about them just yet: the struggle was too painful, and I wanted to know which way the relationship would go before saying anything, wanted to protect Kevin. But now I can tell the world!

conversations that really matter

This blog was started to track conversations about business, but some exchanges eclipse any commercial interaction.

On Sunday morning I sat beside a child in church.

Her dad was teaching Sunday School. Since she has outgrown her dad's class, he wants her to sit in the main service and learn to take notes. So side-by-side we wrote. Her inscriptions were sparse. When I turned my paper to the second side, the child marveled, "You're like my dad! How can you take so many notes?"

"We listen for the things that are interesting to us," I explained. "And we try to follow the preacher's outline and get his main points. More important, we listen for what's meaningful and write that down."

Her notes got thicker, more interesting, and more meaningful. The preacher is new to our congregations, so his sermon began autobiographically ("there is nothing good about me except for Jesus Christ"), and moved into preparing us for communion.

"What is it that commends me to this table?" the preacher asked, and the child wrote that down. "My sin," the preacher answered, and the child wrote that down. "Christ came not to save the righteous but sinners," he continued, and the child wrote it down. Later she observed to her dad, "He was talking about justification." She got the point.

We can never be good enough. Some people examine themselves and, finding themselves wanting, bypass the bread and wine (or juice). At the same time, our preacher noted, we can never be good enough. Communion is not about tallying our badness to bar us from eating nor tallying our goodness to earn the right to eat: it is about coming before our Saviour and receiving his gift of salvation. "Is there anything God can't do?" asked the preacher. "Yes: God cannot see my sin when it is covered by the blood of Jesus."

So communion followed, and the child bypassed the bread, telling me, "I don't know if I'm allowed." I called the usher back to serve her. She took a piece of bread and I inquired, "Are you a sinner in need of a Saviour?" She nodded with a look of wonder. I replied, "Then you're allowed." She smiled, relieved.

I know that training in religion can be controversial, that some biological parents are even reticent to 'indoctrinate' their own children. But all adults who associate with children have a hand in training the young, whether explicitly or implicitly. Why not train intentionally rather than haphazardly? We can do it without imposing. We can invite without forcing. We can encourage with certain spiritual disciplines without damaging. We can offer the truth (as we understand it), in hopes that the child will grow to a reflective adult who chooses and responds well and discerns what really is truth and what is not.

This is the real work that matters: to train children in ways they should go. And Sunday morning was one such rich moment for me.

Hear, O Israel: the LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)

sharpening, polishing, naming

AN EMAIL

August 27, 2010

Dearest Colleen

A couple of weeks ago I was cleaning up and I found a series of old notes between you and I from way back in our Briercrest days.* You sent me a poem by Madeleine L’Engle poem (or is it Luci Shaw?) where it mentions her friend polishing her silver? It is a poem celebrating their friendship and work together  I have always thought of it as a gentler feminine version of the Bible's as "iron sharpens iron."  In my note back to you I said, "thank you for polishing my silver." And I thank you again.

much much blessing be upon you,

Kathleen

*About 6 years ago.

 

A POEM

(found in Friends for the Journey by Madeleine L’Engle and Luci Shaw)

Madeleine’s Candlesticks

by Luci Shaw

Zabar’s, a New York Saturday morning, I bought

a box of rosy pillar candles, stacked

like quadruplets in the womb, for her four

 

silver candlesticks which stand, flanking

the orange tulips at table center, tall

and elegant as Madeleine herself. Flames

 

have danced their highlights on the

visiting faces around the oval table ever since

the sterling quartet was willed to her.

 

Every visit I search the kitchen for

the soft cotton rags and the clay-colored polish

(a favor; her maid “doesn’t do silver”).

 

One afternoon, buffing away, I noticed her name,

misspelled “Madeleine,” etched dark and faint

along one elliptical base. I knew then I was polishing

 

not just her treasures but my friend, burnishing

with the well-worn cloth of friendship her silver

self, lifting the light tarnish of time and wear.

 

Like my shining her words into their

places in her books; like her lighting

blooms of fire in a thousand shadowed minds.

 

THREE NAMES

I first knew as Kathleen as Kathy in the fall of 1998. Everyone knew her as Kathy. She grew up answering to Kathy. But during the time I knew her at Briercrest, she experienced a beautiful transformation that was both visible (her appearance) and invisible (her spirit). She went from sweet and smart, to graceful and wise. With the transformation, she wanted to start using her full name, Kathleen. She had already borne and was homeschooling three children, she ran a home business, managed her household competently and creatively, was completing a BA, and more, yet the choice to go from Kathy to Kathleen seemed to signal a shift from girl to woman. Loving it, I was among the first to call her Kathleen. It’s always a surprise to hear people call her anything else.

My friend Judith did the same. She grew up as Judy. She married, made a home, mothered two daughters, and was close to becoming a grandmother when she realized she had outgrown Judy and had grown into her full name, Judith: a decisive, mature, and comforting name.

Then there’s Eden whose name used to be Edith. Edith is a respectable name, somehow matronly, but Eden signifies new and fruitful life, rich and welcoming. This is Eden . Since changing her name, she has been ordained as a pastor in her church and her husband says both the name and the role fit her perfectly.