Music of the Soul

It comes as a shock to most people who find this out about me, but I speak Spanish fluently.  I do not have any direct family relatives (or indirect for that matter) who are Spanish speaking or hail from Spanish countries... nope, we are German and French, and now, Canadian.  

However, a family who provided music for our Sunday worship when I was a young child always sang this particular hymn in Spanish.  Although I never learned what the words meant until I was old enough to search for an English translation.  When I got to highschool, where Spanish was offered as a second language, my heart leapt at the opportunity to study it.  I carried these studies through my undergraduate work and speak Spanish - every chance I get with friends from other countries.  Such a beautiful and expressive language.  

This afternoon, I got an instant message from a friend who was wrapped up in concerns about what to do next, worried about this or that, and worked up about whether something was "right" or how the timing would work out.  And so, in true sharing, shared this hymn with her.  Surprisingly, it seemed to bring her some sense of comfort and peace.  

And, knowing that there are more than one of us out there who are worried about what the next step in our journey is, where it might take us, feeling anxious about moving on or staying put, searching frantically for the answers, courage, and grace... I share this hymn here, with you.  

Tu has venido a la orilla, 

no has buscado ni a sabios ni a ricos; 

tan solo quieres que yo te siga.

Senor, me has mirado a los ojos,

sonriendo has dicho mi nombre,

en la a rena ha dejado mi barca,

junto a ti, buscare otro mar.

Tu sabes bien lo que tengo;

en me barca no hay oro ni espadas,

tan solo redes y mi trabajo.

Tu necesitas mis manos,

mi cansancio que a otros descanse

a more que quiera sejuir amando.

Tu pescador de otros lagos,

ansia eterna de almas que esperan,

aamigo bueno, que asi me llamas.

The (rough) English translation is:

Lord, you have come to the seashore, neither searching for the rich nor the wise,

desiring only, that I should follow. 

O Lord, with your eyes set upon me, gently smiling, you have spoken my name; 

all I long for, I have found by the water, at your side, I will seek other shores.

Lord, see my goods, my possessions; in my boat you find no power, no wealth,

will you accept then, my nets and labour?

Lord, take my hands and direct them.  Help me spend myself in seeking the lost, 

returning love for the love you gave me.

Lord, as I drift on the waters, be the resting place of my restless heart,

my life's companion, my friend and refuge. 

It's incredible in so many ways - and could, soooo easily, be a simple prayer before the work we engage in daily - whatever that might be.  At various points along the journey, various verses or phrases hold the most impact.  Personally, if I can  manage to utter the words: "as I drift on these rough waters Lord, be the resting place of my restless, unsettled heart; you are my life's companion - friend and refuge"... then I'm improving.  

And for those of us who are in some way, worked up about "what comes next" - may we take heart and courage in trusting that God is gently whispering words of love and vocation to us and that it is ONLY with God at our side - that the seeking of other shores will happen.  Not alone, not on rough waters, and not without direction.  

Oh the Lord works in Mysterious Ways

I was actually going to blog about something all together different this afternoon. Revgals posted the Friday Five about reflecting on our Lenten journeys thus far; since this Lenten season has been quite different from all the rest, I was feeling inspired to write something deep and profound about the windy road through the desert. I was feeling the urge to write something incredibly inspiring to those whose hearts are heavy and troubled this Friday afternoon, but...

instead, I leave you with this.

Sunday evenings in our house were spent as a family, gathered in the livingroom (in the winter, we got a fire in the REAL fireplace, with REAL logs) around our little television. At 7:00pm, dinner would already be settling in our tummy's and we'd come together to finish off our day of rest by watching Touched by an Angel. After the show was no longer airing new episodes, we still gathered faithfully to watch rerun after rerun.

I remember one episode in particular entitled, "The Lord Works in Mysterious Ways" and it was the story of a small town and how the Lord showed up and spread His love, mercy and grace without being obvious to the townfolk. I think I remember it so well because Della Reese, the infamous "Tess" sang this gorgeous gospel song about how the Lord works in mysterious ways.

Today, that is simply what my heart (not even my lips... they are still in shock) is left uttering.

I received a facebook message from the longtime girlfriend of a semi-brother with a link and the note... "You NEEEEEEEEED TO SEE THIS!" Skeptical that the link was going to take me somewhere wonderful, I ignored it until this afternoon when she sent another message saying, "SOOOO... did you watch it?"

Here is the link - it's actually quite incredible. I'm sure if you are regular Oprah watcher, you've probably already seen this - but who cares?! It's something that everyone should probably watch more than once.

It look less than three minutes of my afternoon... but it has given me a lot to chew on, sit with, and possibly (JUUUUUST possibly) pray about. I don't know if I should take this as a sign, or simply chalk it up to random chance... but either way, if you listen really carefully tonight, you'll hear the whispers of heart in the wind singing with gusto, "The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways..."

May this Friday bring you a sense of peace as we, together, wait for the most glorious mystery of all time.

Sacramental Boots

When I was studying for my Confirmation, I was taught that a sacrament was a gift bestowed by an incredibly loving Father; when I was completing credits for my theology minor, I was taught that a sacrament was an outside sign of an inward grace.  Now, as a pilgrim on this perilous journey, I know that the true definition, actually lies somewhere in the middle.  

I've got a pair of boots I have had since I was in early junior high that look like Van Gogh's "Peasant Boots"; the only difference is that there is nothing artistic about my boots.  

These are the boots that ensured warmth through all the cold winters; protecting me from the most harsh of conditions.  They have walked through knee-deep snow without wincing, braved wind and sleet without cracking.  If only you could understand how protective these boots are of what really matters: my precious feet.  

These are the boots that manured out the chicken coup every Saturday morning at 9:00am; stomping on mice, shoveling out dirty straw and laying a fresh coat, climbing up and down the dangerously steep barn stairs without flinching, unwavering in faith, and firm in trust that they would find the next step, without falling.  They endured stench, sticky crap, and slippery steps because they seemed to know what had to get done.  

These are the boots that carried pails of grain into the steer pen; first, one 5-gallon pail at a time and over the years, took on the weight of 4 at once.  They stood firm, not caving under the increased pressure of the load at hand; dodged frozen mud holes and sprained ankles, twice a day, seven days a week, 365 days of the year.  They knew how to avoid danger and stand strong for even if uncomfortable and heavy, it would be over before you could say, "my feet hurt".  

These are the boots that have run great distances to avoid danger or to play in the fields.  They have hopped rows of cut grain, in a hurry to ride with Dad or a hurry to get home in time for supper.  They sat patiently through the games of "shoemaker" as we carved our "shoes" out of a mud-covered boot with twigs in the springtime.  They have puddle jumped, walked thousands of miles (and back), and been forgotten in the tall grass in the summer time when taken off to "rest awhile".  

The laces have been changed more times than I can count.  It would be ridiculous to think that thin pieces of string could endure all these different conditions.  The boots have been polished and sprayed, to protect and honour.  But these are the only repairs they've ever had.  

Talk about a sacrament.  These boots represent the incredible transformations of grace that have happened within over the last ten years... and they still fit.  But this afternoon, when I pulled them out of the closet to make one more important journey, there was a hole.  A small, tiny hole in the soul.  

I know that I cannot fix this hole on my own; it will require the work of a master shoemaker, for these boots are one of a kind, none like them in the world.  And so, very carefully, I remove them from my feet, dry them off, and place them on the shoemaker's porch.  The lights are on, and I feel bad leaving them out in the cold, but I dare not disturb the shoemaker.  

In leaving quietly, I turn back, and see them sitting there; so full of life and almost pleading to be fixed.  I know the front porch is not used everyday, but I trust that as soon as that door does open, this shoemaker will see my boots.  I trust that the shoemaker will know that they are mine and will treat them with TLC, not throwing them out, but carefully turning them over.  

There it is, right there... a tiny hole in the soul, pleading to be mended.  

Conversation of the Week

Wonder Chemist has had a rough week.  A 40 page lab report, a huge midterm, and little time for anything outside of school, study, and more school.  So, knowing that it was going to be a difficult week, on Wednesday I sent him an encouraging message along the simple lines of, "you can do it!  You know this material inside out, go rock their socks!"

His response threw me for a bit of a loop; "have you ever considered motivational speaking?"

Definitely not a question ya hear everyday, that's for sure!  When I told him that the idea had crossed my mind once or twice, he asked what my topic of choice would be.  That stumped me.  However, after thinking about it for some time now, I think I've worked it out.  

No, I would not "inspire the masses" by referring to Banana Custard (which, yes... DOES deserve to be capitalized!), but instead, would talk to them about paintings.  Still working it out on paper (so that I can file this good idea away for an illustration in the future if needed) and will post it soon, I promise.  

In the meantime, if there is anyone out there, East or West coast who might be pondering the meaning of community, and if it's not too late, might I suggest reading this for inspiration?  Perhaps think about this passage from the point of view of lessons for community - rather than often interpreted meaning of "we are all created in the image of God and therefore each have special gifts, callings, and vocations we must use to serve the wider community".  Perhaps Paul was truly writing in a time of community upheaval where people were in a state of confusion about the meaning and appearance of a community - and maybe, JUUUUUST maybe, a part of this letter in particular gives them the answer they've been searching, fighting, and longing for.  

It's just a thought - but I'm sure if anyone out there is trying to write about community, they are well on their way to an incredible tale and account of what it really means for us, as Christians, in the 21st century.  

Honourable Mention!

I had a good laugh this morning when I opened my email to find an email from my prof asking if he could use my paper as an example for the class on Monday in his "how to write an effective paper" workshop.  Securing an 85% (A), he felt that the improvements/alterations to make for the paper have to do with formatting and the technical aspects, but that the paper itself was extremely well written. 

This, without a doubt, made me laugh.  

I do not doubt my paper writing abilities for a second, however, it was an extremely difficult paper to write, given the topic and life circumstances.  I have pasted the first (introduction) page here as well as a snippet of the conclusion.  If you're interested in the sources, just let me know.  

                The term “adolescent” is one that can cause even the strongest of men, to cringe; an age bracketed between 12 and 18 years old, where a youth has the drive and tools required to truly transform into an adult.  A time period in which trial and error seems to be applied in reckless abandon, causing bruises and sometimes more lasting injuries to the seeking adolescent as well as those around them.  Typically, infants and seniors are the people we label as “vulnerable” because they are too fragile to care for themselves.  However, in our current society, where gangs, violence, and peer pressure seem to dominate the scene, it might be more accurate to identify these seeking adolescents as vulnerable.  These youth are at the age where society expects them to really develop a sense of self knowledge based on a set of ideals, morals and worth, seemingly without a lot of support and direction.  As these youth seek a role and a sense of authenticity in a fast paced and consumer driven world, it remains a wonder that our society seems maintains a level of self aware, authentic, and loving individuals.  We have all too often turned on the television or radio just in time to hear about a group of miscreant teenagers, who have vandalized the church parking lot, hurt or violated a senior citizen, or broken into the gas station on the corner and stole chocolate bars and cash from the register; for a lack of knowing how else we can respond to these “seeking” youth, we turn and shake our heads, phone the local police department, or simply just walk away. 

What if the guiding support for these adolescents was less costly (financially, psychologically, and emotionally) and proved to be more effective than legal enforcements or walking away?  Having worked with this age group in a school setting that was consistent and religious in nature, an entire community witnessed just how self aware and genuine an influential group of adolescents can be, if only given the opportunity and space.  The task assigned to the group of 53 youth, ranging between the ages of 12 and 14 years old, was to come up with a project that would make a lasting difference to their community.  These youth attended a religious school, but had very little ongoing religious education about the faith; however, being raised in a religious school setting provided them an ongoing sense of overarching morality and sense of belonging they could have as a safety net and comfort zone as a base for the outreach they were about to dream up.  These youth truly exceeded any expectations.  Two young boys spend their lunch hour to play music on the sidewalk, raising over $1,100 in a two week time period to give to a local charity while other students went on a clothing drive for the homeless.   Another pair developed an after school program for younger children to learn how to cook healthy snacks at a nearby school, others established an after school soccer program for the neighbourhood children on Saturday mornings.  Not only did these remarkable students dream up these projects, but they carried them through beyond the end of the school year and into the summer months.  As they worked through the details of their projects, it was clear that each one of these young individuals was finding and developing an authentic sense of self in the wider society.  They did not require the use of illegal drugs or trouble making gangs to find themselves.  Instead, they seem to have only needed a small encouragement to venture out of a morally stable base and the reminder that they could come back at any time for a “refuelling”. 

The question that must be asked is, what role does religion play in the identity formation of adolescent youth, and the choices that need to be made in order to find an authentic and stable sense of self?

The conclusion that I came to, after 4 short pages of citing sources and pulling apart research was this:

The conclusions that can be drawn from reviewing these articles in an attempt to answer the question about the role that religion could play in the seeking adolescents are that clearly, because of the change of mentality in our society, the adolescent is in a vulnerable state.  Left without a strong, society base of norms and morality, a lack of direction and guidance, and problems with self-deception and “hiding” the self, as pointed out by Baumeister, the adolescent seems to be left out in the dark during a very critical stage in self identity formation.  Disagreeing with Baumeister that our society has created the illusion of a hopeless promise of tomorrow, there do remain avenues in which one may turn to in times of seeking, where a lasting, and truthful experience may shape the rest of not only their life, but the life of our society.  As witnessed and spoken to by James, this experience creating community, is likely to be religious in nature, where the unifying mentality of the medieval society is still prominent and encouraging one another to reach their potential is as natural as walking and the valuable characteristic of a transition marker ritual celebrates and commends those who choose to make that decision at that time.  There remains a few considerations to still be looked at, such as a home rearing environment and the effect that this might have on the self-seeking adolescent, but it remains clear that a religious community as first illustrated, provides the support, structure, and “self” finding encouragements that have called young people forward in a spirit of truthful service, where making a difference in their life is only the first step. 

Just imagine what would happen if all these youth, troubled and burdened, could find that community in which they felt comfortable and safe enough to allow themselves to experience the truth: their potential in this society is incredible and is simply waiting for them to embark upon that journey, self aware and identified as one among many, called to bring those around them to a level of self knowledge and a deeper truth. 

The question that is now starting to rumble in a deep - meaningful fashion, is in regards to whether "religion" and "faith" become something like a security blanket and are only called upon when (youth(?) are) scared of dark.  I had another professor mention this phenomenon once where youth attendance in church was minimal because once the youth found a comfortable place of "self" in their society, they no longer needed a structure like religion. Perhaps that shall be the next paper... 

Who knew...

... that expressing happiness for someone you care about it, elicits a biting?

... that not responding to correspondence before cognitively awake, truly people upsets people?... that being scared shitless for one's own health and well-being, makes everything one says, sound sarcastic? 

... that saying nothing at all, is apparently 100% better than passing on genuine happiness for their news?

Not me, that's for sure.  I have absolutely no clue what it is I'm supposed to say then - because if I can't say something meaningful and nice without upsetting you, I would prefer if you would just write the script that would be acceptable for our friendship.  

But before you do that, you should know that my experience in acting is minimal and I probably won't be able to stick to the script anyway.  However, if that is the only way that we can move forward, please send the script along ASAP.  Until I can get to reading it, I will file it under, "Come on now, give me a lil' more credit than that!"

In through the nose, out... um... through the snow

Ok, ok - so it's not exactly how the phrase is supposed to finish however, there is nothing like 7 inches of fresh white stuff to make the world *almost* seem right again.  

I say *almost* because after spending the day at home, curled up in bed with a hot water bottle, some articles I needed to read for a "music therapy for traumatized youth" paper I'm writing, my blanket, and occasional "Reba" breaks... I was rewarded with being allowed to watch Lil 'Spuds basketball game.  

It was a must-win game (just like their game on Wednesday!), against a team they lost to earlier in the season by a mere 9 points.  I like to say that the Spirits lost because the coach benched Lil Spud, and after watching her play tonight - I just might be right.  (Sisterly pride kicking in rrrrright.... here!)  In the first 10 minute quarter, my lil buddy managed to score 7 of the 11 team points, and assisted on the 4 points that she didn't score.  Swished a total of 4-3 pointers, lead the team in defense, and they managed to win by 30 points!!  

And now, I get to bug her because she took an elbow in the face, early in the game, and before bed tonight - had QUITE the shiner forming.  She is truly a stunning athlete, playing senior level ball in grade 11. Makes being her big sister worth it ;)

Upon arriving home, managed to finish off tomorrow's assignment, the annotated bibliography for church history, a paper outline AND, glance at this week's math assignment.  This only leaves a major paper due Thursday, with a possible medical extension - depending how the week pans out.  And, as if that wasn't enough - I think I know what I am going to submit/analyze for a creative project: "Walking the Scorching Grains; 40 Days in the Desert"!  A scrapbook journey through the desert!  I will need to seek permission to hand the project in a few days after the proposed due date, but I really think it would be awesome (not to mention, personally required at this point).  

I also, as the cherry on the top, received an email from WonderChemist with an updated "rest of our lives" plan.  He is studying (alongside an honors chemistry degree) to get his pilot's license.  Soooo... his new plan involves moving to South America and becoming missionaries - both of us.  He figures with his flying ability, he can fly aid into remote areas of the country, while I can speak words of peace (in Spanish) to those in need and teach (also in Spanish, if needed).  He concluded by saying that he was really kind of "dreaming", but what he doesn't realize is that I might just hold him to this dream.  Really and truly!!! :D

But, the next greatest thing to watching Lil Spud play?  The fact that God blessed a great friend with one hell of a memory.  It took said friend only two questions before I realized what this festering wound really is all about; granted, I still have a lot to think about and work to understand, but in the short conversation we typed, some level of peace was restored in my heart. Said friend, confirmed quickly, that I am not crazy, off my rocker, or expecting the impossible from people - and kindly (probably without knowing it), reminded me that the stubborn in life often don't get very far.  

Tomorrow's plate includes a humble serving of returning phone calls, a veggie size portion of math (only because it's supposedly good for you), a hearty helping of "music therapy for traumatized youth" and a big ol' cup of Earl Grey to soothe the soul.  What's on your plate?

It's a promise I made years ago...

As a side note, in my humble opinion, bread dip beats "Mr. Ben" cough syrup ANY day!  However, this Friday post isn't really about the bread dip OR cough syrup. 

Wearing the Sunday church hat, and clutching a matching purse,

sitting in the pew "studying" a prayer book, 

the musical family starts to sing a hymn that she knows,

by heart.

Standing up proudly, she sings about seas and skies, stars and light;

Snow and rain, loving tears and conversions of hearts of stone to that of love.

Then, the part she knows best, singing loud enough for everyone to hear her:

"Here I am, Lord

I will go, if you lead me

I will hold your people in my heart"

My memory is sketchy at the best of times, but I can tell you at least two things about this song... 1) that this song has always been one that resounds in a pretty deep and incredible way, and for which the words have always been on my lips and 2) It was a topic of discussion at my First Communion meeting with our parish priest.  

The priest that we had at the time was nearing retirement, but I was determined to celebrate my first communion before he left.  He knew our family quite well and so to ease the tension of our meeting, he asked me what my favourite piece of music to sing in church was.  I remember quite clearly, scooting to the edge of the chair, leaning forward, and telling him that it was the one that talked about seas, skies, love, hearts, and going somewhere.  He didn't laugh, but instead, asked me why that particular song was my favourite.  I never remembered my answer, though my mom, who was also there has reminded me over and over (apparently it embarrassed her slightly). 

She'd say, "you looked him in the eye and said, 'Because I want to hold people in my heart just like HE does... DUH!"

Oooops!  I guess "Duh" is not a theologically based word.  Or, it wasn't at the time.  I'm not sure how hard Fr. Al had to pull strings, but lo and behold, the Sunday when I made my First Communion, the very first communion hymn to play was none other than "Here I Am, Lord".  And, I remember this like it was yesterday... after taking communion for the first time, I raced back to the front pew, knelt down, and told Him that NOW, I was a big girl and NOW he could trust me with holding people in my heart too.  

So, while people tell me not to worry about them, be concerned for them, or even - not to pray for them, as many have... my response is simply, "I cannot break a promise"  It is a promise that I actually made years ago, and while I continually stumble and fall along this journey, I'll admit - there are some days where I could do a much better job at keeping this promise. I made a promise to hold His people in my heart; somedays, that brings worry but other days, it brings true joy.  Occasionally, it's really (really!) hard to keep this promise, while other days it remains straightforward.  

Clearly God put you on my heart for a reason, a season or lifetime - and that is right where ya'll will stay.  And yes, before you say anything, you're right... it's not always easy to hold ya'll in my heart and once in awhile, it feels pretty stretched out... but I wouldn't change anything and I hope you can deal with that, because if you can't, it's not me you should take it up with.  Any concerns or complaints should be made by calling 1-800-HE-LOVES (answered 24/7).   But before you call, know that I don't think he'll be removing you from my heart anytime soon!

Welcome to Alberta!

The "stupid landlocked province"!!  So, Miss Sunshine arrived to a local temperature of -24 Celsius (it's slightly warmer in the nearest city, but still much colder than the -8 that she left this afternoon).  The province where we try and protect our property to the extreme!

Ha ha ha ha ha... so, this will go down in the books as the greatest "first night in a new province" ever!  On the way home from the airport, we were driving along a familiar gravel road, when I notice that two (not one, but TWO) cars are parked in our field (aka, private property).  One car with it's lights on, and one... well... with a little "mood lighting". 

Miss Sunshine rolls down her window, I turn down the music, and to the fancy, red, (paid for by selling drugs) sports car, I say:

"Can I help you with something?  Are you lost?"

"No, we are just hanging out"

"Well, unfortunately sir, you need to find somewhere else to hang out as this is private property"

"You own the side of the road?"

"No, I don't.  We own the field that your car is sitting in though sir, so if you will kindly..."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Would you like me to call the RCMP and they can charge you with trespassing?"

"Oh yeah... go ahead!"

(picks up cell phone and dials number for the farm, without pushing send, as the car speeds off down the gravel road - with the huge inconvenience of finding a new meeting place to sell their illegal drugs).

To the other car with "mood lighting", I simply backed up, put my lights onto their license plate and we copied it down. Upon arriving home, I explained that there were two more vehicles in our field.  Farming Dad, quite upset, goes to start his truck.  Racing back into the house, he grabs a flashlight, his cell phone (in case of trouble), and his big winter boots.  This is the story he shared upon getting home a few minutes later...

"I didn't know if anyone was actually in the car - all the lights were off and it wasn't running"

"So... what did you do?  Knock on the window?"

"Nope.  I tried to open the door" 

(Most people leave their vehicles unlocked here in farming country, especially of Farming Dad's Generation)

"Ha ha ha ha ha... um... did it open?"

"Well no, but when I tried the handle, the lights inside the car came on.  There were two VERY startled kids in the backseat.  The young boy opened the window slightly, at which time I explained to him that he was actually parked on private property.  He was pretty embarrassed, so I told 'em - the parking rates are $10 a minute, so you hurry up... and then we'll settle up."

"Um... Dad?"

"They weren't there very long; there goes another high school graduate expecting her first in November!"

Aw man, I love Farming Dad to bits, but of all the things for Miss Sunshine to experience as her first and lasting impression of Alberta... there could have been slightly more... um... G-rated impressions!!  :D  Good times!

Delighted for you, lil one!!

Ha ha ha... ya gotta love younger siblings!  I was officiating some Saturday morning community league basketball games, when I stopped to check messages on my phone.  We were about to start the third and final game of the morning when I got a rather frantic message from A.S.1 asking me to call her back AS SOON AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.  Slightly worried, I dialed her cell number as fast as my fingers could go... 

"Hello?  A.S.1, what's up?"

"I'M ENGAGED!!!"

"Oh my gosh - for real?"

"I'M ENGAGED!!!"

"WOW!! (tears start to form out of shear excitement) Aw, I am sooooooo happy for you!!!  When did he propose?"

"I'M ENGAGED!!!"

"ha ha ha... right.  Got that.  Congratulations!  Holy Smoley - my little sister is engaged!!!"

"I KNOW!!! THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU!!!  Can we meet up this afternoon?"

"You bet, can I call you when I'm done working?  I've got a game to ref!"

I hung up the phone in shock.  Let my partner do the jump ball.  Note to self, when it becomes a likely possibility that other siblings will be engaged, DO NOT RETURN PHONE CALLS right before a game!  

Needless to say, we spent the rest of yesterday together.  Wondering aimlessly around the city's "world record size" mall chatting.  I got all the details on how he proposed, listened to the excitement and the jolting hesitation about telling the parental units.  Heard about initial wedding plans, who she wanted to do what, and even about how many kids they had talked about.  After she had tried on a few wedding dresses that didn't much tickle her fancy, we stopped for a cool drink.  

After a few sips, she asked a question that made the excitement of the afternoon halt to a stop.  

"So, what's new with you and Wonder-Chemist?"

"Um, not much..." (mind starts racing to see if I can change the subject quickly)

"Have you seen him lately?"

"Um, not much, no..."

"Care to explain why?"

"He may have started sharing the plan for our life together that includes purchasing a house in a rural town nearby.  He's got it all figured out - not just in his head, but financially too!"

"Well that's awesome!"

"Uh... yeah!  Yeah, it's great"

The conversation died shortly after and we went back to talking about the ring on her finger, her vision of the perfect wedding dress, and what kind of veil would most suite her taste. It was a wonderful afternoon/evening and I am honestly sooooooo delighted for her.  Her and her fiance have been the best of friends for like six years and finally started dating, and are now engaged!  

However, you can always count on a sister to hear the unspoken words of your heart; I woke up this morning to an email from her with a link to The Eagles Desperado and a one liner of "Please stop punishing yourself, put your winter boots on, and climb down from the fence, for your King of Hearts is awaiting you."

It's lead to a reflective and thought provoking Sunday afternoon, at the end of which, all I can say is, "Way to go A.S.1, I am sooooooo delighted for you lil' one!"