Weeds in my Garden

As I walked around our neighbourhood the other day, I couldn’t help but admire so many beautifully groomed lawns and gardens. Some people take such exquisite care in their home landscaping; I am duly impressed and at the same time, completely embarrassed by the sorry state of my front flowerbeds. If long, tall grass had brightly coloured blooms, I would certainly have an impressive garden.

So yesterday I finally tackled one portion of my front flowerbeds, attempting to completely pull out all growths and overgrowths, and rake it to a clean slate. On the whole, it wasn’t a bad job. The most distasteful part for me was cleaning up the petrified cat poop in the flowerbed. Oh yeah ... we don’t have a cat.

I harvested all of my rhubarb (a somewhat productive way of clearing up that weed) and put 24 cups' worth in the freezer for future pies. I’m hoping to attack my other front flowerbed (pictured) with the same industriousness, but it is larger, weedier and a little more daunting. If you don’t hear from me in the next week or two, send a search party.

Is outward appearance any indicator of what’s going on inside? If I were to step foot in some of these homes with beautifully manicured lawns and gardens, would the inside reflect the same care as shown on the outside?

I have weeds and overgrowth in my front flowerbeds and yet I work at keeping the lawn cut and relatively trimmed, so there’s a dichotomy there; a combination of neatness and mess.   On most days that’s how the inside of my house is too. Some rooms are kept fairly neat and tidy, while others demand a closed door to shut out the visible reminder of the mess inside (referring to one son’s room in particular - not going to name names, but he knows who he is).  On most days that’s how I feel internally; calm and at peace with who I am, yet also very aware of the messes and weeds in my life and feeling so completely inadequate.

Life will always be messy and full of weeds, so to speak, no matter how hard I try to keep things ordered (weed-free) and under control. What I’m learning is that God really wants to be with me even in the midst of all my messiness. Sometimes “messy” is a good place to be, because it is then that I really acknowledge just how much I need Him in my life.

• Am I willing to do the hard work of weeding those areas of my life that are messy and sinful? 
• Am I willing to be vulnerable and let people see the mess in me, or will I always put on the mask of control and contentedness?
• Am I willing to trust God with my mess?

More questions than answers.

I’m a work in progress. Generally gardens need to be weeded more than just once.

Boys to Men

My four sons are growing up in stature … and growing more mature.    I’ve never considered myself to be a short person, being 5’9, but I can see that in the very near future I will be the shortest in our family.   My youngest son stands beside me on a daily basis checking to see if this is finally the day that he is taller than me.  He is very nearly reaching his goal of no longer being the smallest in the family.  My three older boys are all fairly close in height right now, hovering around 6’1 or 6’2. 

I often wonder, as a mother, if I have done a decent job of raising our sons.  Some days, I have just done the best I could with what God gave me.  Some days, it’s a lesson in prayer and trusting.  Some days, it’s joy and thankfulness for God’s love and goodness.  I am blessed watching our sons grow into fine young men.

Son No. 1 has been working full-time since graduating from high school and has become comfortable with his life, which has been a cause of concern (and much prayer) for us.   But he is at a point right now where he is entertaining moving forward to something new and is pursuing a return to school in the fall, for which we are encouraged to see.  That may or may not have something to do with the ultimatum we gave him that he either go back to school or move away …  Whatever the motivation may be, we are relieved to see him taking steps to move forward and out of his man cave comfort zone.

Son No. 2 recently returned home from his first year away at College and I have been so impressed with the way he has grown up and matured over the course of the school year.  Having lived in residence, he has become far more independent when it comes to making his own food and cleaning up in the kitchen after himself!  There is a maturity about him in the way he views responsibility and life, and I’m really quite proud of who he is becoming.

Son No. 3 just finished up his first club volleyball season as an assistant coach, helping to coach Son No. 4’s volleyball team.  It was a really neat experience for me watching Son No. 3 interact with the players and flourish in a new and different way.  Son No. 3, to me, has an incredible understanding of the technical aspects of the game and I believe he thoroughly enjoyed his season as part of the coaching crew.   The first time I heard one of the players call him “Coach”, I had to give my head a shake realizing he was addressing my son!

Son No. 4 has always disliked being considered the youngest and smallest of the bunch, so it is no wonder that he so desperately wants to be taller in stature than somebody!  I’m more than happy to be that somebody.  Son No. 4 wants to be the best at something (and would prefer that something be different than anything his older brothers are good at!)  Although Son No. 2 plays volleyball at a college level, Son No. 4 has all the makings of being equally as good, or better, than his older brother.  What Son No. 4 doesn’t always realize is that he is special and unique in his own way and there is no comparison.

This past weekend Son No. 2 was quite industrious, fixing up a table that we had in the back yard.  The makeshift table was used for storing firewood, but also as a work-table for outdoor projects.  Son No. 2 found a piece of wood to recycle as a new table top and he fortified the legs.  After the appropriate measuring, sawing, hammering and sanding, the table was pronounced finished and sufficiently sturdy.  I was quite impressed with Son No. 2’s work ethic and the way he encouraged Son No. 3 to get involved and help him out.  I applauded Son No. 2 for his accomplishment, to which he proclaimed that the table was now ready for Beer Pong.

Sigh.  Boys will always be boys.

Spring is in the air!

It’s nearly May and some stubborn patches of snow that have not succumbed to the spring thaw still remain in our yard.  It’s probably not for a lack of trying, but these mounds of dirty white snow are unlucky enough to be in perpetual shade, so they’re always the last to ebb away.

The long winter, or late spring, seems to be a topic of conversation everywhere.  I think it’s safe to say that we’ve all had enough and the reality of warmer, sunny weather is a real morale booster.   I was picking up a package at the Sears catalogue counter on Friday evening and the Sears employee was practically bursting at the seams waiting to tell me that she had taken off her cardigan sweater.  Not in a creepy way ... she was just so excited that it was actually warm enough to need to remove the cardigan!  I reciprocated her excitement and shared with her that I was out and about without socks in my shoes.

There are certain sights and smells to spring that I love.  I work in downtown Winnipeg, in one of the buildings at the iconic corner of Portage & Main.  You know it’s spring when the hot dog vendors are out on the corner and you smell the BBq’s firing up and the smokies cooking.  Last week we had some precipitation (wet snow), and the distinct smell of wet cement that you only smell when it rains in spring or summer hit me and I knew we were getting close (even though it was still just wet snow). 

When the mercury climbs, more people are out and about.  No need to bundle up and stay indoors; now is the time to start getting out into the fresh air.  I did see an interesting sight the other day ... I saw an older couple and the lady had an odd hat on her greying, dirty-blonde shoulder-length hair.  As I walked past, I realized it wasn’t a hat as I had thought, but a short brown woman’s wig or a man’s toupee.   I'm fairly certain that’s not a new look for spring or a new fad, at least I hope not!  I guess it was too warm for a toque, but cool enough to warrant some sort of covering on the head.

I don’t, however, like that period of time when the snow starts to melt until it warms a bit and the green starts to emerge through the brown.  I’m not a fan of the brown.  My youngest son once said that if he could, he would move away at springtime, to get away from the “snirt”, but would come back when everything was green again.  “Snirt”, as I learned from my son, is that brown, gritty stuff left behind at the end of winter; a combination of “snow” and “dirt”.

The sun was shining earlier this morning, but the clouds have moved over again.    This past Friday we (Winnipeg) hit our highest temperature since October.   It was a beautiful day and the temperature was actually in the mid-teens.  But 6 months is a long time to be out in the cold.  I never used to think that I was one of those people who were affected emotionally by a lack of sunlight, but as I grow older, I think I feel it more.  I find it interesting that the acronym for “Sunlight Affective Disorder” is SAD, because that’s sort of how I feel when the sun is behind the clouds.

I’m glad spring is finally emerging.   I don’t want to be SAD anymore.

The Not-So-Great Depression

It was reported recently that well-known pastor Rick Warren’s son died as a result of suicide. Matthew Warren was 27, and had battled mental illness for most of his young life. In the weeks following Matthew Warren's death, I’ve seen a number of blog articles about Christians and depression/mental illness, and what the Church’s response and involvement should (ideally) be. I found one article written by Ann Voskamp that particularly had an impact on me and caused me to think back on our own church experiences. Her article is a letter to the Church, and in it she tells the Church what she wishes they would say to the hurting.

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/04/what-christians-need-to-know-about-mental-health/

We left the organized church we had been attending over 10 years ago. There were a number of reasons for our exodus, but they included the response by the church to my husband’s major depression. The church we attended believed if you prayed more, if you read your Bible more, if you prophesied more, if you worshiped more, if you ministered more, [insert any other “spiritual” action here and do more of it] that was all that was necessary to achieve healing and wholeness.   News flash: Telling a depressed person they’re not good enough and need to do more, is like walking them up to the top of a cliff and pushing them over. Not helpful.

While we were still at that church, I was blessed to be a part of a small women’s group who studied the book “The Power of a Praying Wife” by Stormie Omartian. In that group, I felt loved and accepted, encouraged and bolstered. These women knew our story, and stood with me to support me as I was on my knees in prayer for my husband. At that time, those weekly morning times with those women were life to me.

I wish there had been some men in the church who, in the same way, had come alongside my husband to accept and encourage him. I wish there had been men who would have made the big commitment (and it is a big commitment) to stand with my husband in the pit of despair, and to walk alongside on better days. All through my husband’s struggle with depression, the unspoken message he has heard so often was that he wasn’t worth the investment.

I struggle writing this because I want to share some of my experience, but I don’t want to condemn or judge anyone in that church for what they did not do. I want to write these things to encourage the Church.  It's easy to love the loveable.  Loving someone who struggles with mental illness is hard.  It is a commitment of time and energy; it is being the hands and feet of Jesus to the suffering.

I like what Ann Voskamp says in her article,

“Jesus came for the sick, not for the smug. Jesus came as doctor and He makes miracles happen through medicine and when the church isn’t for the suffering, then the Church isn’t for Christ.”

“There’s no guilt in mental illness because depression is a kind of cancer that attacks the mind. You don’t shame cancer, you treat cancer. You don’t treat those with hurting insides as less than. You get them the most treatment.”

So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. 

Just as I have loved you, you should love each other.    John 13:34

 ... let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions.   1 John 3:18

He is risen!

Reported in the news this past week ...

"The principal of Heritage Elementary School in Madison, Alabama has banned the use of the word Easter in the school saying that it infringes on the rights of students.
Lydia Davenport explained the move, saying, “Kids love the bunny and we just try to make sure that we don’t say the ‘Easter Bunny’ so that we don’t infringe on the rights of others, because people relate the Easter bunny to religion. A bunny is a bunny and a rabbit is a rabbit.”

Huh? I’m sorry, which religion is the Easter bunny associated with? I’m pretty sure the Easter Bunny ranks right up there with Santa Claus as a secular institution with no religious affiliation. I did a quick word search at www.biblegateway.com and I’m just so shocked that there are absolutely no references to “bunny” in the Bible! (Oh, how I wish I had a “sarcasm” font.)

This is another example of political correctness at its best, or worst. People trying to bend over backwards so that they don’t offend anybody. As a person of faith, I’m actually not offended by this because the Easter Bunny and egg hunts have never symbolized Easter for me.

So what is Easter for me? Easter is the celebration of life, redemption, salvation, and the ultimate sacrifice.

On Good Friday, we remember that the Son of God, Jesus Christ was willingly nailed to the cross and crucified. He died as a sacrificial lamb, without blame Himself, taking on the sins of the whole world. He died for me.

On Easter Sunday, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. Death had no hold on Him; the tomb is empty and Christ is alive. My Saviour is alive.

Do I live every day in celebration of the resurrection? Or am I stuck in “Good Friday” mode, grieving over my circumstances? My Saviour is alive. I want to live every day thankful for the life that He, Jesus Christ, has given me.

He is risen. He is risen, indeed.

Rich Mullins - Creed (Credo) from objektivonemusic on GodTube.

Bottle Brunette

Many years ago, I had a hairdresser who understood that I couldn’t afford to keep making appointments with her to colour my hair. She gave me some great tips as to the best brands and shades of colours for my hair, and I have been colouring my own hair ever since. In the years since, I’ve gone through blonde, auburn/orange/red and light brown phases, and now find myself to be a dark brunette.

I had been colouring my hair for so long that I actually couldn’t quite remember what my natural hair colour was. But I think I have found it. The funny thing is, when I look at the loaded shelves of hair colour in the store, this one colour is the one that I keep gravitating to. Even my hairdresser cannot tell if the colour is fresh or has faded. My roots don’t give anything away. Only the white hairs that poke through tell me that it’s perhaps time for a fresh application.

Changing hair colour is an easy way to make a change, and although some dyes are marketed as “permanent”, the new colour fades and grows out eventually, so it’s not really “permanent”, is it?

Wouldn’t it be a kick if we could make life changes in the same way. Need patience? Open a bottle of “Wait Awhile Black”, apply carefully remembering to massage in completely, wait 25 minutes and then rinse. Too bad the only application of “patience” here is waiting the 25 minutes to rinse. Life’s just not like that.

As my boys grow older, they are challenged with more difficult life questions. The most important question isn’t “What video game should I play” (although that’s a question still asked ...), but rather “What do I want to be when I grow up?” “What kind of career do I want to pursue?” “Should I go to university or college, and if so, where?” “What course of study should I take?” “Where can I find a job?” The answers to these questions aren’t found in a bottle (hair colour or otherwise). Sometimes you just need to be brave and step out and try something.

On a couple of recent occasions I bumped into people that I haven’t seen in a number of years. I found it odd that each one commented on the colour of my hair, and the fact that it is much darker now than it used to be when I last saw these folks. It’s not just my hair colour that is different; I think I’m different too. It's possible that I am now more at home and confident with who I am, and that’s evidenced by my hair colour representing the natural “me”.

Perhaps it’s necessary to try different paths (ie. different hair colours?) before we find the one that truly fits who we are.

Something is afoot ...

I recently started exercising more frequently in an effort to become more physically fit and generally healthier. In my effort to improve my fitness, I seem to have been waylaid by a little thing called plantar fasciitis. My goal to become “Ripped in 30 60 90” has become “Ripped in ... not sure when”.

According to bodyhealthcanada.com, “the plantar fascia is a relatively inflexible, strong, fibrous band on the bottom of the foot that supports the arch of your foot. Repetitive movements such as walking or running stretch the plantar fascia. Because it is not very flexible, this can cause small tears in the fascia, which leads to inflammation and pain.

A variety of causes exist for plantar fasciitis. Some of the most common causes include:

• excessive weight load on the foot due to obesity or prolonged standing
• mechanical imbalances of the foot
• osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis
• sudden increase in body weight (e.g., pregnancy)
• sudden increase in walking or running
• tight calf muscles is a very common cause of the disorder
• wearing shoes with poor support, including flip-flops”

Excessive weight load due to obesity? Ouch. I’ll take “sudden increase in walking or running” and “wearing shoes with poor support” for $100, Alex. On the advice of my massage therapist whom I credit for diagnosing me, and according to all the information I have read online, I have put aside my comfy, albeit well-worn and nearly threadbare slippers, and have started wearing my Birkenstocks at all times in the house. No worries though - I’m not a socks in ‘stocks in public kind of gal.

I found a wonderful website with videos on how to do all of the stretches and exercises my massage therapist recommended, as well as a few others, including instructions on how to tape my foot for support. I have been diligent in stretching and strengthening, icing and taping, and my foot is definitely improving. Maybe I won’t share that information with my boys quite yet ... it’s been nice making them run up and down the stairs with the laundry hampers!

I read online that the prognosis for plantar fasciitis is quite good, but requires time to heal. “Most patients feel better in 9 months.” 9 months? Maybe that’s just for women with a sudden increase in body weight (e.g., pregnancy) ... which is definitely not me. I’m shooting for a much quicker time frame.

Time heals all wounds. But if plantar fasciitis were to be left untreated, would time wound all heels?