Oh, Damn Mug of Blessed Tea!

When I got sick Nov. 06, my mum did what any parent would do for their loved, adopted child... research, research, research! In fact, it often surprised me that she knew rules about cleanliness, sterile environments, and general "good health guidelines" for chemotherapy patients before I was informed by my doctor, no kidding! However, I regret to inform you, that one of the pieces of information she read said that green tea, which is extremely high in antioxidants, was recommended for cancer patients. These natural chemicals help to flush the body of toxins that are hanging around, and when going through something like chemo, there were more toxins than my body could physically handle.

So... every morning, my mum would get up early enough to boil a kettle of water and steep a pot of this blessed green tea. I promise you, the green tea was more of a fixture in our morning struggle to get out of bed and convince myself that I wanted to live and chemo was the best method to do so, than "discussing" alternative destinations for the car to go in the morning.

Every morning... I would saunter downstairs with my backpack packed: my blanket (it rarely came out, but I needed to know it was there, just in case I had to spend the night), a book (occassionally a colouring book), my computer, ipod, and Booker the Bear (often stuck out the top). And, waiting at the bottom of the stairs was my mum - proudly holding a travel mug of that damn green tea. Most mornings, I would try to "forget" the mug on the counter before we left, but somehow, she knew. She would soon appear in the drivers seat with the darn mug full of that blessed awful tea.

To humor her, I always had to take a giant gulp (as giant as one can when it's still boiling hot) before I got out of the car each morning. I would slowly sip on it as I waited for the blood results, waited for the nurse, and waited to have the treatment start. However, as chemo does, it wasn't long before I traded that mug for a kidney basin; not having much in my stomach from the night before, and only a few bites of breakfast, my brain connected the green tea, to getting sick.

Psychologists have published numerous papers that declare taste aversion as one of the most difficult learned behaviours to break... AND, I am case in point. To this day, more than two years later, the very smell of green tea causes my stomach to churn and that lingering acidic taste to develop in my mouth. I know that logically, it doesn't make sense. My brain is fully aware of the fact that the chemo drug mix lead to the nausea and vomiting... it wasn't the green tea. And yet, at the same time, it is linking green tea with being sick.

And so, tonight, as I lay awake into the wee hours of the morning, I owe you an apology - oh damn travel mug of blessed green tea; I'm sorry... all those times I cursed you silently under my breath and wrinkled my nose at the thought of having to drink, one...more...sip... it was never your fault! But rest assured, oh green tea, I am working frantically on taste aversion reversal - so that one day, real soon, I may savour your lovely antioxidant taste!!

Author's note: As those of you who know me well already know, I have considerable difficulty sharing my inner most thoughts and feelings in a blunt, "out there" sort of fashion. I am not someone who can "let it all hang", though I am getting better at it (thanks to the HolyMitredOne who lead by example through life). Anyway, all this to say that a very, very dear friend is offering themselves as lovely company, a consoling ear and an experienced heart... and while I long to take her up on it, for my heart is heavy and my head is spinning, we would be meeting over a cup of green tea (not actual green tea, but there is another necessary component needed in order to be able to talk through it, but to that, I have a slight learned aversion, similar to the green tea). It seems that green tea is the necessary common ground, but I don't know how to say, "Please don't walk away, I just can't bring myself to drink a cup of green tea... just a little longer? I'm trying and training, for I long to be able to drink it again... really I am...

Friday Five, the Inside E!

(reads, I'm the type of girl who will burst out laughing in dead silence because of something that happened yesterday... )

Although written by a young man, this song from "Rent" became an anthem for women of a certain age ready to be taken on their own terms. Maureen and Joanne love each other, but they are *very* different.

Songbird writes, whether it's new friends or new loves or new employers, what are five things people should know about you?

Hmmm... I had to think about these for a moment, but I think if there were 5 things that people should know about me, these would be them!

5) Is a two parter... a) I have webbed toes and b) no, I can not swim any better than someone with all their toes separated.  :)  I don't really know why this is an important fact about me, but a fun one - for sure!

4) I have a funny, yet bizarre sense of humor and, truth be told, I often laugh at myself more than anyone or anything else...like the time I went to a party and thought that someone had stole my other shoe as a joke.  I went through all the shoes that were at the back door, but because I was one of the later ones to leave... I resolved that someone else had taken my shoe by mistake and left their shoe for me.  So, slipping my foot into a very similar looking shoe sitting right beside my other one, I was surprised that the shoe fit.  The next day, I called my friend asking if anyone had reported a missing shoe and told him the tale of what had happened the night before.  A few weeks had passed, and the humor of a practical joke was wearing thin - I needed my pair of black shoes!  Deciding that I had to go and buy a new pair for a big meeting I was presenting at, I figured I would donate a bunch of my 'gently worn' shoes to goodwill.  Opening my closet door, apparently for the first time in weeks, there sat an identical pair of shoes to the ones sitting out in the hall.  After all that, it turns out I had worn a mix matched pair to the party in the first place.  I laughed for DAYS about it... who would do something like that?  Ohhh!!! Pick me!!

3) I have two code words/phrases: "I have to go and check on the chickens" should read, "I need some time to think this through, I'll be back" and "absolutely" should read, "FAT CHANCE of THAT HAPPENING!!"

2) Music and physical activity (namely team sports or a run) are very important aspects of daily life for me.  They are my ways of processing the days events, highlites or pitfalls.  And, typically these are the only two things that I can engage in to relax and return to rationality.  

And...t he number one thing that people should know about me is that I am often, as busy as a bee, as intellectual as an Edison, and as sweet as a spoon of honey, but as stubborn as a donkey's..... 

Enjoy the weekend all!  See you next week :D

Trained reaction... ENGAGE!!

I will admit, I have been awake for too many hours in a row.  I have always been one of those people who waits until the sun goes down and world is hushed before I try and start thinking through potential solutions to the unanswerable questions life brings.  And, as of late, there are simply too many things to try and think through before the mornings sunrise that I struggle to turn the brain off... and, morning always comes too soon.  

This morning, this particular morning, is different from all the rest and all I am left to say is that it astounds me to think how we can want something sooooo badly, and when it comes - how all we can do is run.  

With a few subtle differences to consider, I can not help but feel overwhelmed because it appears that this Christian band is singing my life song. 

I thought that hiding in the tall grass would make me invisible, and allow me to sit in this place of self protection, but I guess I whispered too loudly, crunched one too many blades of grass, or allowed my hearts tears to carry through the silence of the night for you have responded... and not only responded, but suggested coffee or lunch.  Not to be had 10 years from now when the hurt is washed down and the pain inside stops burning, but before you go back home in a week. 

And the running begins.  Not 100 miles an hour, but 200 miles an hour.  Yes, I know it's in the wrong direction, but what else can I do?  

Signed in love, from Whispers of the Grass

Author's note: a thank you goes out to my musical friend HGB for his help with this. I know that I will never be able to sing this to all those that deserve to hear it, but as I continue to crouch in the tall grass of the "back 40", may these words of my heart join the whispers of wind blowing through this void night and find the ears of those I owe it to the most. For until then, no words that my lips will speak will carry any meaning.

I fall a thousand times on my way away from you

I think I'm scared

The bruises on my knees are from a time of long ago of how

It used to be.

I think I'm lost

I think I don't know the way

If I used to be amazing, I'm sorry to deceive

If I used to by deceving, I'm sorry for the pain

If I've cost you this time,

Please forgive me.

I think I'm lost

I think I am afraid

I sacrifice what I have lost for what is soon to come

Or so it seems

I trade my soul so I can find a safe place to be

My hideaway

I think I'm lost

I think I don't know the way

If I used to amazing, I'm sorry to deceive

If I used to be deceving, I'm sorry for the pain

If I've cost you this time, please forgive me

I think I'm lost

I think I am afraid.

Pancakes, pancakes, yum, yum, yum!

Friday Five: Pancakes

Last week Sally gave us a beautiful, spiritually reflective Friday Five, so it's time for something light and fluffy (literally). It's inspired by the fact that as I write this my dear spouse TechnoGuy, with the assistance of daughter Ladybug, is making a batch of chocolate chip pancakes with two Christmas presents. One is the Knott's Berry Farm mix which came along with jam, boysenberry syrup, and biscuit mix from my aunt (we ended up with two sets, since my parents passed theirs on to avoid sweet and carb-y temptation). The other is the large size Black and Decker electric skillet he was thrilled that I got him online -- our trusty wedding present normal size one still works at going on 20 years, but the Teflon is getting worn, and he wanted more cooking space. So pull up a chair to the kitchen table and tell us all about your pancake preferences. 

It's been way too long since I've played a Friday Five, but I'd like to pull up a chair with Sophia, TechnoGuy, and Daughter LadyBug and share my pancake preferences!

1. Scratch or mix? Buttermilk or plain?
I have been known to search high and low for pancake mix that I can eat when purchasing food for youth retreats, just to make the food preparation easier on whoever is doing it, but being allergic to eggs (all parts of them), I typically try and skip the hour of reading all the ingredients on pancake mix in the store.  In case you ever want to try something slightly different, for each egg the recipe calls for, replace half a banana and a "swoop" of  milk mixed together!  If you are making plain pancakes, it will give them a slightly different taste, but it's too vague to identify the taste of banana.  Quite delicious!!  :D

2. Pure and simple, or with additions cooked in?
In the summer months, when wild fruit is growing wild 'round here, a few wild raspberries or saskatoons are my favourite.  Soooo berry!

3. For breakfast or for dinner?
Surprisingly, the only time I will make pancakes for dinner is that once a year, Shrove feast.  And the best place to eat them in the morning is definitely at the local Cathedral at the Friday morning breakfast for street and homeless people in the city.  I haven't gone yet this year, but the company is truly amazing.  

4. Preferred syrup or other topping? How about the best side dish?
Hm... this is a tough one.  Having endured all the nicknames growing up like, "Angie-myma" I think I actually have to say that my preferred topping was that of my Grandad's: a dazzle of liquid whipping cream, and sprinkled with brown sugar.  Mmmmmm...

5. Favorite pancake restaurant? 
I don't think that I can actually answer this one as I don't actually recall ever having been able to order pancakes in public.  Darn eggs!!

Bonus: Any tasty recipes out there, for pancakes or other special breakfast dishes? Bring 'em on! 

We have a family "secret" recipe for chocolate syrup; it is made with cocoa and a variety of other ingredients - and can be served hot or served the next morning cold.  It is sooooooo good and typically, a treat.  But you make toast, butter it, and then dip it in the chocolate syrup.  Mmmm... maybe that's what I will have for breakfast this morning.... hm... 

A Journey of a Lifetime

I believe that I have alluded to this journey before now, and if I haven't, then I hope that this brief explanation will make some degree of sense.  This past Advent season, I had the incredible blessing of walking a sister through Advent.  The journey was facilitated through a rather "P.S. I Love You" type fashion with cute, little, neon green envelopes and letters.  It was also met with the occasional little tangible reminder of that week's theme, just in case reminders were required as the weeks progressed.  

Regrettably, through a series of unfortunate events in my life, I was never able to send the final, Christmas Eve package.  I then thought that I could send it for Epiphany, however, that too fell through.  It will still get sent, I just don't know when.  And, as far as that goes... it is quite evident that this message was supposed to be delivered way before now - and probably not in the form of an afternoon blog entry - but I've got to work with what I have.  So... I am open to your feedback, please let me know what you think about this... 

I have a little wooden creche in which I have stuffed some fake straw from Michael's (the craft, expensive, superstore).  Underneath a small section of burlap, where the infants head would lay, there is a small piece of mirror.  

Why?

Well, because this sister's journey was about a deliberate walk from hectic chaos, to the side of the manger... to journey back to that incredibly silent and amazingly holy night to look into the innocent and loving face of our Saviour.  I have a theology of ministry in which each one of us is born with a tiny piece of mirror, often found in our soul.  This mirror is responsible for reflecting out to the world, the "image of God" that rests within us.  Because we are human, each one of us was created in love and made in the incredible image of God.  As we engage this seeking journey we call life, we reflect the piece of God within us to all whom we meet, and we learn a little bit more about God viewing the mirrors of those whose paths cross with ours.  

I am a firm believer of this.  That God resides in each one of us, reflecting the true essence of God back out to all of God's beloved.  This puts a very serious responsibility upon each one of us, in that we are always called to openly share the true love, mercy, grace, forgiveness, hope, faith and joy that God is.  Sometimes, we trip and fall and our mirror becomes cloudy and full of fingerprints, but we always have the long list of chances to fix this.  

Each one of us carries a slightly different reflection of God, and what a blessing that is!  It gives us the chance to ALWAYS engage this seeking journey.  Just imagine how crappy it would be if we met someone else with the same Godly reflection that we already knew or have seen... that would seriously stink!  We would just get sooooo bored of journeying because we would be seeing the same thing every few steps.  Can you say... BOOOOORING!! 

So, my sister, as the deliberate journey to the creche comes to an end and the journey from the creche into the world has only just began, I send you this tiny mirror as a constant reminder of the reflection of God that God has placed within you.  While it is often a terrifying experience to journey into the night, my prayer for you will always be that you may find that incredible sense of grace to walk with your head held high.  God has entrusted a very integral part of His awe-some being upon your mirror - that only you have.  There will be no one else to share this part of God with the world, so gather up your courage (already instilled within you), hold your head high, and walk humbly in the love that God has set aside for you and you alone.  Do whatever it is that you need to do first, but don't waste time feeling sorry for yourself.  There is a reason you are who you are... and God is calling you in a very deliberate way - right now.  

You know that Disney is an integral part of my life and while this quote is Disney in nature, I believe that it very much applies to your journey and Christian life, and so I pass it on to you (on behalf of someone else, much more incredible and awe-some than I); 

"There is something you must always remember: You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, 

even if we're apart... 

I'll always be with you."

Go forth in love and mission, my sister, Go Forth!  And, as you journey, Godspeed (May God be with You!)

Thank You!

I know that you already know who you are, and I also know that the chances of you reading this are slim to none... but I also know that quite frequently, you pop into my head. Yup, it's true. I have yet to figure out how you do it and whether it is something that you do intentionally or whether you are brought into my head by someone or something else, but I'm learning to like it.

I know that you didn't read the last blog in which I shared how your words brought about a new set of reactional emotions within me, so I'm left wondering how you knew that an apology and explanation would somehow, oddly enough, make everything okay again.

But, you did.

And for that, on this deepfreeze type morning in which the alarm went off too early and the bus was too full to sit, I find myself giving thanks.

Oh, and for the record, anonymous singing sensation... even though you often leave me puzzled, you remain welcome in my head - any time, any day, with any reason.

...But please don't mind the mess. I need to clean, but until I find the proper tools to do so, I hope you will find yourself at home, and refrain from stepping on cute and cuddly Charlie!

The Fallen Angel

I am trying to think... (a dangerous thing, for sure!) I might be wrong, but I thought there was a children's book about an angel who fell from heaven and spent time wondering the earth in search of meaning, hope, and direction.  Along her way, this little angel meets a variety of interesting characters who, through their interactions, teach her that God is with her wherever she roams - whether the heavens or the earth below.  If not, someone really ought to write one!!

Saturday night, I wandered aimlessly into the parish in which I was raised, worked in, and left rather abruptly two years ago.  While it really didn't have that warm, "welcoming home" feel to it, I occasionally moved my lips to the words of hymns, pretended to pay attention to the readings, and was half-heartedly following along through the Eucharist.  I now understand what it must feel like for all those lapsed Catholics who stumble into churches twice a year to "do their duty".  

This polish priest, the same priest who was there when I left and who walked up and down past the church graveyard talking to me about feeling called to follow Christ for hours, made an interesting point in reference to Epiphany and following the Star.  He pointed out that the star is actually present each night in the sky, but we are all too often caught up in the vast darkness that surrounds it.  Regardless of where we are heading in life, or what kind of vocational journey we are on, each one of us is guaranteed to feel overwhelmed by the darkness and lose sight of the guiding star.  However, he seemed to think that all it would take is asking for a journey companion, who can still see the star, to encourage, to cheer, to chat with... He seemed to think that we will all make it to the creche, like the wise men, to give a piece of ourselves to the infant.  

It's a lot to chew on, and I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it... but to say that it's comforting to know that even angels fall.  

Being the voice of the voiceless

Okay, so I will be the first to admit that I have broken a few rules in my short time; this confession is shortly followed by also saying that this is a huge understatement.  However, even through all these wrongs, when I see an injustice... I rarely keep my mouth shut and turn a blind eye.  

The other night I had to make a quick run to Wal Mart to pick up the economy sized laundry detergent and fabric softener so that when I head back to school on Monday morning, I won't go smelling foul and wearing "unsoftened clothing".  I kid you not, the temperature was registering  -36 C when I left the house, but the car was soon warm and I was on my way into town.  Because of recent developments in the area, about seven years ago, a lovely corner farmhouse and yard was sold, demolished, and replaced by the evil (affordable) Wal Mart.  In the last few years, this location has taken over even more precious farmland to become a "Wal Mart Supercenter" (as if that's the answer our community problems!)

However, all those feelings set aside, I have decided to boycott Wal Mart.  

Cars, trucks, SUV's, and minivans FILLED the ENTIRE Emergency Access Route that runs in front of the stores doors.  Both doors - and in between, vehicles sat idling while their owners or wives ran into the store for a "quick pick up".  Now I realize that I am a youngin' in my 20's, but I am too judgmental to think that if I can walk less than a city block from my parked car to the store entrance, that THESE PEOPLE COULD TO?  Not one of them had a handicap sticker in their window - I made a point of checking.  

Am I wrong to think that the No Parking and Emergency Access Route, No Stopping signs should obviously have drawings that these idiots would understand? Perhaps drawings of stick people burning, or being carried to a stick ambulance??  The frustrating thing is that these people simply don't care.  If they only took a moment to think...

... what if it were their loved one who suddenly had a heart attack while shopping, or asthma attack, or some other medical complication?  What if the ambulance and paramedics were delayed in getting the life saving equipment to their mom, dad, brother, sister, wife, husband or child??  Would the 45 second walk from the proper parking lot to the door then be such a huge issue for them to undertake?  

... what if it were them, inside of the store, when a gunman opened fire?  Would they think differently about all those jerks who parked in the path of the RCMP officer that showed up to save their life?  

... what if they were inside the store or had family inside of the store when there was a bomb threat and time is of the essence in locating and safely removing the bomb - would they still be so keen to park in the way of the people who would show up to help?

Having worked in a hospital setting, why is it that no one is stupid enough to park their car in the clearly marked ambulance bay, knowing that it's there to help prolong the life of the critical ill or in danger - and yet... they are willing to do so at the local shops?  And having worked in the service/tertiary industry, as clerks we regularly practiced the drills for a lost child, a bomb threat, a fire, a medical emergency, and a dangerous customer... I refuse to believe that we spent all that time for nothing.  We cared enough about our customers to be prepared, am I supposed to believe that customers don't care enough about each other to give a hoot about saving a life?  

The local blood clinic advertises that if you donate your blood, you are saving up to four lives.  Perhaps the signs in front of Wal Mart ought to read, "Park where you are supposed to, you could save hundreds of lives; Park Properly Today"

I refuse to believe that this is acceptable; I also refuse to believe that our society is incapable of stranger love and respect of human life, always placing ourselves above and beyond anyone else.  Finally, I refuse to believe that this a problem that is unsolvable.  

Please speak up.  That woman who needs an ambulance and only has moments to continue breathing with oxygen and medical attention is someone's grandmother, someone's sister, someone's best friend, someone's soulmate, someone's wife, someone's mom... and a beloved child of our God.  

Lyrics

I don't know what else to do; I spent the majority of my evening talking on the phone and chatting with my sister. You know that person who fills the void in your life? Yeah, I was talking to her. It's truly beyond any stretch of imagination to think that our relationship is as tight as it is... but it makes sense to us. I have more siblings than I can count, but this is a different sister all together. I will write more about the incredible weekend we got to spend together, but that is not what this post is about.

I have nothing intelligent to say. I don't know why she did it, but she thought it was important to read some of my words that I'd written back to me. I think it might have been to try and show me that (contrary to my own belief), my words carry meaning to a select few when written from the heart and inspired from above.

I can't help but feel like I'm between a rock and a double edged sword; the words that I wrote to her six months ago do not even remotely sound like words I would be capable of saying today. I've been stretched since I wrote those words, and while they seem to continually inspire her to light the world with this incredible glow and 'pay it forward' attitude, looking at where I am now, it's shocking to think that I could have written what I did. So, from where I sit, I can either accept the fact that at one point along my journey, I could have composed a letter - dripping with meaning and conviction... and that today, life is different. That is to say, "there's a possibility I once believed all that, but that the tables have turned, circumstances changed and if I wrote to you today, wouldn't say what I did there." Alternatively, I feel like a fraud. That, for some reason, I was overcome with a glimpse of inspiration, but that these moments are few and far between.

Inspired by what she read and how it was so relevant to her journey at the time, she shared with me this evening that she, in turn, shared my words with others.

And... off go the alarms, sirens, and fog horns.

I have so carefully laid the stones strategically - placed them one on top the other in an order and shape that would provide the greatest protection. Between each carefully selected stone, is the strongest glue/mortar/sticky tack you could ever imagine using... I'm sure it's what Noah used to keep the ark together when he ran out of nails! Water resistant, and impenetrable.
But since the weekend, I feel... almost without a security barrier. Part of this is because I met someone who clearly has a gift of calling you out when needed, sometimes without warning, time or extended discussion. The person who knows full well that there is something impeding God's full possession of heart and soul.

The other part of this comes from the knowledge that "deep and heart-felt" words were associated to me. Although I wrote them, they are uncensored, come from inside the stones, and give people the right to expectations... the dreadful "e" word.

The challenge is that whether it was what I wrote, or a combination of a lot of things (I'm voting for the later!), this young woman has grown in the most incredible and indescribable ways. She has truly taken her faith as her own, grabs life by the discerning, scriptural horns, and demands that change and justice are brought to where it's needed the most. She has gone through more than I could ever imagine... and done so with grace, humility, maturity of faith, and a radiant light. A true, Sr. Mary Patrick, from the Sister Act movies.

Our conversation tonight ended horribly abrupt. I got all freaked out by the fact that she has kept all my letters... that my letters bear such weight... that my words would inspire... that she was so thrilled and challenged by these words, she felt called to share them with others... and that, my worst fears are true: the recent events of my life have truly (and negatively!) impacted my faith, my relationships, and my discipleship... and that I don't know how to get back on track, spiritually.

I keep telling myself that I'm over reacting; I'm tired, emotionally drained, and dreading the upcoming month as I head back home.

If only... if only I could pray for the understanding and comprehension... if only I knew why an answer to a prayer from a while ago appears to be here now... if only I could figure out whether she is here, with great care and gentleness, to facilitate what is ahead... if only.

Between you and I, I think I know the answer; she seems to be the contractor and has already introduced me to one of the crew. But I'm scared. I don't want to be, but I am, and that leaves me hiding under the back corner of the bed... laying really, really, really still. So, instead of a conversation, I leave her lyrics... I trust she knows where they come from - hoping that she understands that I am running because of me, not because of her.

Left wrestling one question:

Why?