Sitcom

Picture courtesy of C. Berti, 2020.

At this point in my life, I love to bake and hate to cook. This doesn't bode well for my waistline. It means I eat my baking and I let my vegetable-avoiding, butter-loving husband cook most nights.

As I baked this morning, the words for a blog I've been longing to write began to form inside of me.

***

My mom often says, "Every family is dysfunctional to some degree."

That truth resonates with peace as dysfunction swirls around me.

Enter Schitt's Creek. If there is hope for the Rose family, there has to be hope for mine. The perfect imperfections of the characters are what make a person fall in love with them and invest in them throughout the series.

Segue to The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. A mom trying to make it as a comic in a man's world in the 1960s. An underdog father, trying to raise their kids while piloting a business with his "wife" on tour. I am thankful to the "Joel Maisels" of the world who have helped make it acceptable for fathers to cook and raise children as much as I am thankful for the "Midge Maisels" who have paved a path for working women.

The Maisel children are rarely with their parents. It begs the question...who is raising these children?

I often feel like that with my own children.

If David and Alexis can turn out okay, then so can the Maisel children, and so can mine.

Until that time, Midge Maisel has taught me the F-word and humour helps a lot.

***

I look up to my Father in heaven who is watching my sitcom unfold. As I curse under my breath, He hears a prayer from my heart. Whatever our struggle, He desires honesty. I know He is looking forward to the next season of episodes because He is invested in me and rooting for me.

***

Do you want to be counted wise, to build a reputation for wisdom? Here’s what you do: Live well, live wisely, live humbly. It’s the way you live, not the way you talk, that counts. Mean-spirited ambition isn’t wisdom. Boasting that you are wise isn’t wisdom. Twisting the truth to make yourselves sound wise isn’t wisdom. It’s the furthest thing from wisdom—it’s animal cunning, devilish conniving. Whenever you’re trying to look better than others or get the better of others, things fall apart and everyone ends up at the others’ throats.

Real wisdom, God’s wisdom, begins with a holy life and is characterized by getting along with others. It is gentle and reasonable, overflowing with mercy and blessings, not hot one day and cold the next, not two-faced. You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor.

James 3:13-18 (The Message)

Church without Walls

This week my middle daughter began dance classes. Prior to this, the only "extra-curricular" my children have known have been swimming lessons and church. And, we had to be intentional to make time for swimming lessons.

Church has provided a loving culture for our children to learn about our faith, as well as explore their own giftings. One of our children will hard pass on the performance arts, while another child will now explore that in more depth. Thank you Christmas Musicals.

As I continue to write, hear that I value the church and its role, however, we must be careful not to allow church to limit Jesus, speaking both physically and metaphysically. I am unlikely to step into a bar. Some of my friends are unlikely to step into a church. People are not projects to fix or rescue. Barriers to differences must be overcome to build relationships. If the end goal is to get someone to attend church every Sunday, my friends, we have it wrong.

After months of not formally being connected to a specific church (in part due to COVID-19 and in part due to being between churches as a pastoring family), our family is reconnecting with a mission. Where is our relationship with the church headed...short-term? Long term?

Where does God want me to be? He wants me to be wherever I can build a relationship and love like He does. To teach in a public school. To cottage with family and friends. To take "the middle" to build her passion for dance. I am being challenged to reduce my involvement in church as an extra-curricular with events for each night of the week. Instead, I am making a commitment to represent my faith every day and to celebrate that faith with others who share it. This might not always happen in a church building or on a Sunday.

Wall-less.

Moving.

Evolving.

There is nothing wrong with meeting in a church building on Sunday, but there is also nothing wrong with going to dance class on Tuesday instead of volunteering for a church extra-curricular. If I might challenge one step further...what about going to a dance class on a Sunday morning and church on a Tuesday night?

"Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother’s womb, so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things. Plant your seed in the morning and keep busy all afternoon, for you don’t know if profit will come from one activity or another—or maybe both." Ecclesiastes 11:5-6

The Hallway

I trust a God who not only hears my prayers but also sees them. My prayers have evolved from willing the hand of God to move "my way" through spoken prayer to discovering an understanding of my present reality and His companionship in that reality with more listening.

A kind soul gave us a piece of art she had made with the name "El Roi" stitched in Braille as a Christmas gift. It means "the God Who Sees" in Hebrew. It sits as a prayer on our wall. A reminder that God sees us.

The name El Roi comes from the Old Testament in the Bible. Simplified, Hagar was a slave made pregnant by her master, Abram, because his wife could not bear a child. She was mistreated and ran away. The Bible doesn't say Hagar fell on her knees in prayer. It says the angel of the Lord found her in the wilderness and spoke to her.

"Thereafter, Hagar used another name to refer to the Lord, who had spoken to her. She said, “You are the God who sees me.” She also said, “Have I truly seen the One who sees me?” Genesis 16:13

This is the only time this name for God is used in the Bible. It appears again, once, in a different form, in Greek in the New Testament, after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead and entered Jerusalem riding a donkey.

"Jesus shouted to the crowds, “If you trust me, you are trusting not only me, but also God who sent me. For when you see me, you are seeing the one who sent me. I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark." John 12:44-46

Because I trust in Jesus, the Father sees me.

***

I have felt unseen. I want to be better at loving the unseen. The unspoken. In order to love the unspoken, one must first see them to know there is an unheard voice.

I remember attending a conference with my husband. The conference was promoted as a family-friendly event. I quickly realized that the event catered only to my husband's spiritual health and not his family's. The people I knew also attending, had other people. I had a baby. I spent most of the time alone in the hallway.

I wish I could say this was an isolated incident, but I have spent more time than I would like to admit alone in the hallway (often with babies) in churches. For a while, it bothered me. At some point, unseen people joined me. Others were alone in the hallway with me. I started talking to people. Praying with people. It dawned on me that while some of us were missing the sermon, church was still authentically happening.

The problem with catering to the majority is that people will be left out. I am not saying churches shouldn't make decisions based on the majority. I am saying churches could also make decisions with the unseen in mind, especially in the COVID season moving forward.

Saying, "Too bad for them," isn't loving. Assuming we know what others need isn't loving either. Asking what might they need and how we could help is loving.

My family is not attending church service, despite some churches opening-up. Truth: I don't want to be around large groups of people right now, especially indoors. More truth: I don't want to have to make children behave in church. Still more truth: children worship God differently than adults. After we finished the first Harry Potter book (gasp), the very first thing my children did was connect how the book related to their faith.

My husband is in a season of moving to a new pastoring role. That role is still shaping itself (for those who don't work in the church world, think self-employment and starting a business). As a result, I feel like I am back in that hallway again, but this time, I know I am not alone. We have had a few churches adopt us in this season. One church added us back on their mailing list. I didn't ask them to. Another included my children in their online children's ministry even though we had only visited once. A third dropped off a care package for my children with chips, snacks and sunglasses. The kids happily munched during our Friday family movie night, with sunglasses on, knowing they were loved by those people. Each of these was an act of love, seeing the unseen.

Churches, keep being creative and loving others. You don't need to save people, Jesus does that. Everybody needs to feel loved. If you are feeling unseen, join me in the hallway, I'll be here a while.

The Hollyhock

A year ago I was scrolling Facebook feeling guilty. Laden with recurring migraines, headaches, anxiety and depression (at the time unknowingly) I had very little energy. The energy I did have went to my children and getting through the day.

The box garden bed my husband had made me sat empty that year. The year it was built the bed was lush with cherry tomatoes and green peppers. Because it is better if you grow your own food, right? Because heaven forbid you rely on a grocery store or worse, feed your family a box of chicken nuggets! At least if you throw in some homegrown food with your chicken nuggets you might get an honorable mention at the non-existent parenting award show.

The summer of emptiness, I planted hope. I scattered some seeds with a prayer. A gesture of guilt from not being able to plant vegetables and be what social media feigns as a good summer mom. I have wanted hollyhock for as long as I can remember. This summer those seeds bloomed. They stand tall and proud. Strong and healthy. Like me.

Whatever you are sowing this season, may it reap joy. May effort not rob you of the beauty of simplicity. And, finally, may your definition of joy come from within and not a scroll.

It’s not important who does the planting, or who does the watering. What’s important is that God makes the seed grow. The one who plants and the one who waters work together with the same purpose. And both will be rewarded for their own hard work. For we are both God’s workers. And you are God’s field. You are God’s building. 
-1 Corinthians 3:7-9 NLT

Isolation Baking

I'm more of a bake-from-a mix girl. I like simple recipes that don't require exotic ingredients. I've been waiting for a gluten-free base muffin recipe that doesn't let me down to fall into my lap. Gluten-free muffin mixes are expensive! This is one I am loving. It comes from GoGo Quinoa Hot Cereal of all places. So when our friends dropped off some gluten-free goods during our season of hardship (specifically Chris's pulmonary embolism), they actually gave us a gift to last a lifetime!

So far I have substituted different types of gluten-free flour mixes, substituted oats for the hot cereal mix, thrown in ground flax, chia seeds, sunflower seeds or chocolate chips. I haven't done a sugar substitute, yet. They turn out every time. Even if you double the recipe which is often a gluten-free no-no. Enjoy!

Gluten-Free Muffin Base Recipe

Gluten-Free S'more Krispie Squares

This one turned out too delicious not to share. It came about with some kitchen experimentation.

Use the basic gluten-free Rice Krispie recipe found on the box of cereal. Add a handful of chocolate chips and chopped Mi-Del Gluten-Free Ginger Snaps to the mix before spreading. Mix in well. Spread into the pan.

Then, melt chocolate chips. I melted them in the microwave using 30-second intervals and stirring so as not to burn the chocolate. Spread on top. I then crushed some of the cookies in a bag and sprinkled on top. Finally, I ended with a chocolate drizzle.

Yes, the waistlines are a little thicker over here so don't judge us as we emerge from isolation!

Reframe Every Thought

Last year I didn't finish the last two weeks of June with my class. My body had given up after fighting tremendous headaches for 6 weeks. I needed to take the last two weeks of school off to heal. My class deserved better. My family deserved better. I deserved better.

In the teaching world, warnings to not share private, personal information with employers or students are clear (including places like personal blogs and social media because of the ease of sharing). There is a line of professionalism drawn in the sand that must be upheld. Sharing could make you vulnerable to your employer. When privacy is expected, needed or wanted, discretion is necessary. Forced privacy is also dehumanizing. The perceived loss of voice and the inability to use it comes with the cost of guilt and shame. While I was unwell, I kept private out of fear of "the rules."

I lost finishing the year with my class. I worried about what parents and colleagues would think. I worried about not being healthy enough to return the following September. In all honesty, people were more concerned about my well-being than me not working those two weeks. This is not a post about worry, however, it is a post about freedom.

I began to grieve a summer that had not yet happened. All the things that I wouldn't be able to do or give my children. Wanting to be honest with someone, I started with my three daughters. I told them I didn't feel well and we wouldn't be able to do as much as we normally did that summer. I asked them to make me a list of all the things they wanted to do. Then, I could be honest about my capabilities and let them down gently.

To the left, is the list they made. They wanted to eat Fun Dip, play outside, do puzzles, play games, go on the iPad and help mom.

I closed the door to one of our bathrooms. As I sat on the floor, my tears of relief washed my worries away. I prayed in gratitude for my children who, in their simplicity, were beginning the healing process of my pain.

***

Over the past week, I have read COVID-19 posts about the school year not ending as expected. Teacher's posts about saying goodbye to their rooms. Students and their families lamenting lost graduations and celebrations.

Going through the unexpected ending last year has made the final chapters of the COVID-19 school year much easier for me. It's okay to feel the loss and to grieve. Not finishing the school year as I had expected caused me a lot of anxiety as a fairly well-adjusted (or so I'd like to think) adult. This doesn't mean every person will experience anxiety or disappointment with COVID-19, but it does mean it is a possibility.

That summer, I needed to adjust my expectations. Let me share with you some unhelpful thinking defences I learned in therapy. Automatic, unhelpful thoughts must be caught and reframed.

All or nothing thinking - I didn't finish the school year and, therefore, I am a failure.
Counterthought or reframe - I gave my students 38 weeks of my best and let them finish the last 2 weeks of the year without me. I had taught them how to be independent. They were capable of finishing the year without me while I took care of my health.

The shoulds - I should be able to create a social-media-worthy summer for all to see how great of a parent I am.
Counterthought or reframe - My kids want a simple summer. I can give them that. If I have nothing I want to share with the world that is okay. I didn't post anything about being pregnant with Josie on social media. The people who knew about the pregnancy without a social media announcement were the people who mattered.

Emotional reasoning - I feel shame and embarrassment about taking time for my health, therefore, I am a bad person. This is where forced privacy creates unhelpful thinking. It creates the thought it is bad to have a health issue.
Counterthought or reframe - I am a better mother and teacher when I am healthy. I am smart for taking the time to get healthy. I have a choice about what I share that is health-related and about what I keep private. This also relates to all or nothing thinking. I can share some information and keep some information private.

I don't know what expectations you need to adjust or what thoughts you need to reframe. I do know that we all need to make these adjustments.

One of my favourite worship songs is a declaration. A reframe of every thought.

I am a child of God. Yes, I am.
I am chosen, not forsaken.
I am who you say I am.

Jesus frees me of the burden of discretionary secrets I have to keep and lies I believe.

"We are human, but we don’t wage war as humans do. We use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments. We destroy every proud obstacle that keeps people from knowing God. We capture their rebellious thoughts and teach them to obey Christ." -2 Corinthians 10:3-5, NLT

Why not take a listen? While you are listening, see what that summer looked like after reframing it. Even though I didn't share it at the time, I choose to share it now.

Never Once by Joyce Sertic

I want you to meet my friend, Joyce. She is a diamond. Diamonds are not formed without heat and pressure from the Earth. If you have ever asked the question, "Why do bad things happen to good people, her story is for you." If you have asked, "Why do such people continue to believe in God, her story is for you." If you haven't asked any of these questions and want to get to know someone I am privileged to call my friend, her story is for you. Her husband, Peter, was a gem and a friend too. Their story belongs to God and she wrote this book from her journals as a tribute to Peter.

"This is my story. All true. Faced with many challenges, God has remained faithful and has given me purpose, joy and continues to provide all I have needed. All throughout my life's challenges, I decided to journal. So, many of these stories, comments and testimonies were taken right from my personal journal as I was walking some very dark and unknown situations. Through infertility struggles, fostering, adopting and my husband's very unexpected death 4 days before we became a forever family, God has remained faithful."

Joyce Sertic is from Canada.

***

Here is the trailer for her book, Never Once:

Click here for Trailer

Here is the link to online order form:

Click here for ordering information

The Face of a Panic Attack

One Year Ago, 2019

The Weekend Before Victoria Day Weekend

I had my mom take me to urgent care for stroke-like symptoms. Chris had been ill, in bed and out of commission himself. The doctor arrogantly brushed-off my symptoms as a reaction to antibiotics I was taking for a bladder infection. Knowing I would be alone Victoria day weekend, I took my passcode off my phone and taught my daughters how to use my phone in case of an emergency. It was to be Chris's final retreat as a youth pastor.

Victoria Day Weekend

Days felt like years.

Weekends on my own with the girls were commonplace having a husband as a youth pastor. This time was the last for a while and should have been the easiest. I had barely texted Chris. I didn't want him to worry about me.

Using the back door on Sunday night, Chris eased into the house. I forced myself off the couch and collapsed into his arms, crying. It was a defining moment for me. I was not okay. I began struggling with daily headaches and recurring migraines.

A Sunday between Victoria Day and Father's Day

June 2019

We were a party of friends crowded in a local ice cream parlour on a Sunday afternoon in June. It was ice cream weather. The picture to the right was taken of me in line waiting to order. It was taken during the onset of a panic attack. Mental health is invisible. I didn't know I was having a panic attack at the time.

Everyone was bustling in line and deciding on flavours. I started sweating. I lost my appetite and ability to focus. The room was closing in on me and I needed fresh air. My only goal was to last standing long enough not to puke or faint. I ordered nothing, leaving Chris with the icecream decisions for our family and ushered myself outside. I landed on a rock in time to suppress the sick feeling in my stomach from exiting.

With icecream eating finished, we began to walk. I tried to stay steady, focused on each dizzying step. Another picture. I chose to sit beside a friend who had been through medical-trauma while the group-selfie was orchestrated. It was a miracle he was alive. I drew strength from his smile that day. We landed at a park. The children ran off to play. I was praying mine didn't get kidnapped because that was the extent of my parenting capabilities at that moment.

I asked Chris to keep an eye on our girls. With my purse as a makeshift pillow, I lay under the shade of a massive hardwood. As I looked up through the leaves and branches crossing the sky, my friend shared a poem about seasons and trees. She murmured that we didn't have to talk. Her words eased me. I closed my eyes and started to settle back into my own body.

***

Days later. Another stroke-like migraine hit me. I could feel the numbness radiating up and down the left side of my body. Speech? Fine. Face? Fine. I ran through the symptoms of concern my doctor had reviewed with me. Migraine. My temporal veins throbbed with intensity. Advil. Bed. The next day, the doctor wrote me off work. I couldn't teach with out-of-control migraines, even if there were only two weeks left in the year. I had already been struggling for a month.

Father's Day Weekend

I shuffled dinner around my plate, forcing myself to eat for the second time that day. Every swallow was an effort. It was a repeat of the lunch I didn't eat. Earlier, my Greek salad existed to catch tears. I had broken down with two of my friends over the meal. It was my low. My unfinished Iced Capps was a warning sign to those who know me. The days that followed had moments where my heart was quaking in my chest. Chris and the girls would stroll ahead playing Pokemon-Go while I walked the panic attack off.

***

What was the cause? I don't have a concrete answer. Headaches, migraines and panic attacks were physical symptoms. I had anxiety about what was happening, maybe even depression. I was in weekly contact with my doctor at the time. After much reflection and therapy, there were physiological, emotional and trauma-induced factors. Stress wasn't the cause, but that didn't help.

What did I do to be well? I was in regular contact with my doctor. I meditated and prayed through the panic attacks. I breathed in the presence of God and out the anxiety. There were waves I had to let pass. I would excuse myself to the bathroom, talk to myself in the mirror and say, "You are okay. You are still you." I repeated the words until I believed them. I ate healthily and exercised to help prevent headaches and boost positive brain chemicals. I went to therapy. When I was on the road to recovery, an event triggered me to the point where I almost lost all my hard work. I then advocated for myself and asked my doctor for medication. Therapy allowed my brain to make sense of my story. Now, I write.

Why? The brain is a physical part of the body. I went through emotional trauma. Initially, it wasn't my own trauma. As a witness, I can't write about what isn't mine. My unwellness was trauma-induced. At least, in part. My brain was triggered into a physical state of protection. That's the physical explanation I worked out in therapy. I believe, there is also a spiritual one. At that moment in time, I was called to walk alongside victims of trauma. Sharing a part in their stories, I found myself impacted too. I fought for my health back. As a result, I can better understand the fight. We don't always get to choose what our brains do and how our bodies react. Sometimes trying harder doesn't work.

***

A devout life does bring wealth, but it’s the rich simplicity of being yourself before God. Since we entered the world penniless and will leave it penniless, if we have bread on the table and shoes on our feet, that’s enough...

Pursue a righteous life—a life of wonder, faith, love, steadiness, courtesy. Run hard and fast in the faith. Seize the eternal life, the life you were called to, the life you so fervently embraced in the presence of so many witnesses. -1 Timothy 6-8, 11-12 (The Message)

The Leather Pants

Photo by Jasmin Schreiber on Unsplash

To be honest, they aren't leather pants. They are pleather pants. Shiny rather than matted and thick. They sit at the back of my drawer and no longer fit. They are the pants that you keep in hopes of one-day fitting again.

***

One of my dearest friends was getting married. I had nothing to wear to her wedding. Even my go-to black dress was looking curtain-like on my body. You would think I would be happy about finally being skinny. I had lived my life before that time perpetually wanting to be 10 pounds lighter. I was 30 pounds less than my typical self.

I was avoiding most people. "You look fantastic!" was a common remark. I didn't feel fantastic. Eating was difficult. I had to force myself to chew and fuel my body. My appetite was non-existent. I could barely enjoy my favourite beverage (an Iced Capp) without it triggering a headache. I can't tell you what ailed me as it wasn't one thing. Just like what made me better wasn't one thing either. I can tell you, I would rather be slightly self-conscious with muffin tops than be thin and unwell again.

Each time someone relished in my supermodel state (skinny and miserable) it was a jab. I started avoiding people publicly unless it was necessary or I wanted to socialize. At my friend's wedding in between the ceremony and reception, I bought a pair of pleather pants. Not to wear at the wedding! I had wanted a piece of clothing that made me feel positive about myself.

My galactic pants made me feel like a rock star. When I had to fulfil obligations involving a party of people I wore my pleather pants. They made me feel alive and boosted my confidence. I have a robust social circle, all but a few felt like acquaintances at that time. I would put on my superhero pants and I was able to dodge the comments about my outside that didn't match my inside.

***

"Josie, we are going to have to get moving if we want to beat the rain," I commented before leaving for our walk.

COVID-19 distance teaching requires marathons of sitting. Barely-getting-1000-steps-a-day-type sitting. My-tail-bone-aches-sitting. At the end of the day, Chris has to press on my hips to relieve some of the pressure. The mini exercise trampoline I bought has helped me get my steps to 2000 at the end of a workday. Far from the goal of 8000-10,000, I should reach. I started walking too. Both of the 20-minute rural routes I take are 2500 steps.

Josie and I didn't beat the rain that day. While I towed Josette in the wagon, she blew bubbles into the drizzle. The droplets hitting my cheeks made me feel alive.

Feeling alive releases the chemicals my brain needs to feel well. Walking in the Earth's showers. Crying, while praying and doing the dishes at the kitchen sink. Lying in bed with my children, listening to Harry Potty on audiobook at bedtime. Lifting my hands in worship at church. Holding my Grandmother's hand, crooked but also wrinkled with love from her years. Sporting those pleather pants. Each of these acts awakes my sense of being.

When this isolation is over, I am going to remove the lonely pair of pleather pants at the back of my drawer and replace them with a pair that fit to celebrate my inside being in harmony with my outside.

The Cottage

My maternal grandmother with her father at the cottage in Severn Falls, Ontario
She was moved to a LTC facility just prior to the pandemic hitting our area

View from below the cliff
Thanks to my Aunt Kim for the pictures.

I would sit on my grandfather's knee, in front of the woodstove, while he told me the story of "The Three Little Pigs." I can hear his gravelly voice, "Little pig, little pig, let me come in." I remember playing Brown-Eyed Girl endlessly on the jukebox. The song would finish and I would press the sticky button to select that disc again. Both homes we have owned as adults have had train tracks behind them. Visitors often ask if the sound of the train near our home is irritating. I used lay on the top bunk at the cottage, window open, waiting for the train to pass and the sound of its whistle to signal it was time for the fresh forest air to lull me to sleep.

Raising a family has kept our bank accounts modest. Chris and I have traded off working and being the parent at home more than most couples I know. We know what it is like to live on less. Much of our home is secondhand furniture. We are regularly offered pieces family and friends are getting rid of. For a while, I felt embarrassed about my home. I would walk into the homes of others that could be on a page of a magazine. I felt like my home was a corner of Value Village.

Vacations over the past few years haven't been obtainable without the generosity of our friends sharing their cottage with us. My grandparent's northern nook was settled on a hill amidst neighbouring trees and overlooked the lake. Our friend's small-town, campground cottage, with a pool, has brought us an equal amount of joy and memories as the northern nook that is no longer in the family. So much so, last year we almost bought a cottage on the campground.

Purchasing a cottage was a fun thought to entertain. Ultimately, we decided against the decision. Chris had recently quit his job to start a new one and it didn't feel wise. Moreso, I realized how many dreams we might have realized with our own home if we made that the financial priority. I mean, we have never owned a new living room set.

That same summer I had been unwell with migraines, hormonal fluctuations and stress which caused anxiety. Not causal nervousness. Not worry. Real brain-chemical depletion, living-in-a-fog, unable to focus, palpitations-like-a-heart-attack, anxiety. For all the Christians who do not understand mental health, I wasn't under a demonic attack. I was in regular contact with a doctor: I tried eating healthy and exercising and I lost 30 pounds, 25 of which I have put back on. I tried prayer and meditation, naturopathy and essential oils. Prayer led me to therapy and medication, and I am now well.

I had spent a lot of time alone, retreated from society, learning how to be well in my body, mind and spirit. It was then, I was enlightened to discover that my home wasn't a corner in Value Village, it was a cottage. My oasis.

My season of health issues happened as Chris left his job as youth pastor, which meant leaving our church community. I felt alone, misunderstood and like few people saw me, including God. We had left our church in a blaze of blessing and glory and my health was disintegrating. Soon after, our lives would continue to fall into pieces in a manner that differed from the plans we had for ourselves. I had thought the disintegration of our lives was over, then COVID-19.

***

My goal this school year was to not bring work home, except for during report card season. In the fall, I would eat dinner out once a month, by myself buried in piles of marking. I needed to separate the work from my cottage. My safe place. My place of wholesomeness and healing. Then, COVID-19. Really? The boundaries I set were working.

"Mom, you're always on the computer, now," Addisyn complains.

This is why I wasn't bringing work home. I am a workaholic. It is an inherited trait. I struggle with being present and getting my priorities straight. I love the cottage, my priorities are always straight there. There are challenges in working from home. When I am home, my kids often have my attention, they aren't used to seeing me work all the time.

"I hate this!!!" Addisyn yells as I hold her whimpering soul. She is tense, hot and growling. I pray for peace to replace her anger. For understanding to replace her confusion and frustration. Being around her sisters 24/7 is difficult for her. She thrives in school and with her friends. She feels alone, misunderstood and unseen.

We talk about how her room could be a safe place if she needs it to be. She scoffs that she hates her room and wants to run away.

I think that's how I felt about wanting a cottage. An escape to run away to. I realized I needed to bring the content of a cottage to my own life and home. It is not where you dwell, but who dwells with you. I hold Addisyn until her body finishes shaking in anger, my eyes welling, just like God holds me when I flail at the throws of life.

"I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you."

-Psalm 139:6-12 (NLT)

Darkness and light are the same to you, Jesus. We are not excused from the dark hours of life. I thank you, Holy Spirit, that you are the cottage that dwells in me. The arms that hold the flailing child and bring light to the dark. Today, I pray for everyone who finds themselves in darkness. For those whose homes do not represent a safe place. I pray for the abused, the neglected, the hungry, the lonely and the hurting. Give their souls and spirits shelter in You and bring aid through people, that they would feel Your arms and know Your eyes are welling. Amen.

Behind the scenes with a Teacher-Mom during COVID-19

Helping me work

657 - The number of steps on my fit-bit-alike, as I blog, after a full day of work.

10 - The number of times it took me to film a 2-minute instructional video for my students without some embarrassing noise in the background.

9 - The number of socks I pick up laying randomly around the house when we do a tidy.

8 - The average number of hours I am on the computer during a typical workday. Also, the number of hours of sleep which makes my body happy.

7 - The number of times I say, "Why is this doing that?" to my daughter's new tablet while she does online learning activities of her own.

6 - The number of hours of sleep I get when it is interrupted with children having nightmares. To answer your questions... The nightmare victim was the oldest. The reason was due to watching octopus eggs hatch on her sister's kindergarten online classroom.

5 - The number of children I work from home with on Wednesdays. We watch my niece and nephew for our frontline hero. My own children LOVE Wednesdays. It is the new Saturday because they don't have to do school work! Five is also the number of days of the week I am working.

4 - The number of girls laying in the master bedroom at bedtime listening to a chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. The best part of our day.

3 - The number of my own children. It is harder to work from home with my three children than on the days we have five. It is also the number of Iced Capps I buy when I go through the Tim Horton's drive-thru (judge if you must). They freeze wonderfully. Thaw in the fridge overnight.

2 - The number of adults at home to care for our children. One making an income, one not. Both working hard. Also, the number of days I am not working in a week.

1 - The number of incomes we have been living on for the past seven months. My husband leaving work as a youth pastor to start something new was planned, the pulmonary embolism was not.

0 - The amount of money in our savings as we pay off some debt from teacher strikes, a furnace blowing and a fridge dying all at the same time. It is also the amount of patience we typically have left at the end of the day.

I share this only to say - you may have a different hand, but you are in good company with whatever you face.

To Be Real

After this weekend, we will have been in isolation due to the COVID-19 pandemic for 4 weeks. Leaders of all types of government are reminding that we are not gathering, publicly or privately outside of the members of our own home because it is Easter weekend and gatherings of 5 or more are banned.

Chris lost his paternal grandfather this week. We are navigating grieving in a pandemic. This part feels inhumane. When those you love are missing a part of their heart, a hug goes a long way. Funerals restrictions allow up to 10 people. Perhaps you know all of this, but I am aware that I am living history right now. When my children ask me to remember, I want the details to be there in my blog.

Reading my old blogs, I look back and encourage myself. I see how hopeful and enthusiastic I was as a new parent. I wasn't as weathered as I am now. I often say when Rylyn was born I knew everything and now I know nothing. The more I live, the more I realize I know a whole lot less than I did the day before.

It's Good Friday. I like going to church on Good Friday. As a child, on our way to church, My mom would remind me that Easter did not exist without Good Friday. I like going to church because I am not musically gifted, but I love to worship through singing. I find myself examining and exploring my options of worship that are authentic during this strange time.

Here is what feels real: Love. Love feels real. This is my gospel. I filter all my beliefs through love.

In the story the Velveteen rabbit, a boy loves his stuffed rabbit through scarlet fever. He must relinquish that rabbit after he is well, due to the sickness. The story ends with rabbit being made real because of the boy's love. Love is authentic worship.

Like the Velveteen rabbit, I have become weathered and worn by life. His love heals and forgives my failings. Jesus makes me real.

I wish you realness this weekend. If the Bible isn't your thing, maybe you will enjoy the Velveteen rabbit this weekend and remember love makes you real. Like the verse from John says, how you love proves who you serve.

If you need a friend during all of this, we are here for you. That's how I do church.

Dear children, I will be with you only a little longer. And as I told the Jewish leaders, you will search for me, but you can’t come where I am going. So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples. -John 13:34-35

The Velveteen Rabbit

We're All Heart

Visitors' welcome

I have basically been under voluntary self-isolation for 3 weeks. I left a turkey dinner (thanks mom and dad for hosting Easter, unknowingly, super early this year - bless your hearts) with a nag in my heart that this should be the last time our family would have social contact in a while. I've taken the physical distancing and stay home recommendations for COVID-19 seriously. Following the dinner at my mom and dad's, I cancelled my massage appointment that week (#sacrifice) and my daughter's social skills therapy we were looking forward to starting.

I've learned I can't control the actions of others, but I can control my own. In our country home on the main stretch between two towns, we get lots of visitors. So much that, we now have our cars parked at the end blocking the driveway and a sign that indicates we are not receiving visitors. It is not that we don't love our family and friends, it is that we love them enough to put our wants aside right now.

I hand-sewed a face mask. I tried a scarf. I liked that better. Chris chuckled. There is some evidence to support that covering your nose and mouth will protect others if you are carrying the virus and are asymptomatic. That's good enough for me. I have to go into my workplace this week and pick up a few things. I only have 20 minutes inside. I will look like a bandit with my scarf, so maybe that will help me move more quickly.

I like clear expectations. I often feel anxiety when I am waiting for permission. Permission to self-isolate. Permission to wear a mask. I don't need to wait for the government to give me permission. If we wait, it won't be permission. It will be a demand. (Save the good PPE for our medical teams! A wrapped scarf is just fine!) Our town declared private gatherings of more than 5 are not allowed. Technically, this means we could be fined if you visited.

There are different kinds of spiritual gifts, but the same Spirit is the source of them all. There are different kinds of service, but we serve the same Lord. God works in different ways, but it is the same God who does the work in all of us. A spiritual gift is given to each of us so we can help each other...The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ.  -1 Corinthians 12:4-7, 12 New Living Translation

Much of the time, I feel like an appendix or wisdom tooth right now. The hands and brains of the medical teams, that is more admirable. However, when I consider that my decisions are not made with fear but made with love, I feel a little more heart-like. That's how Christ unites us.

A gratitude scavenger hunt we did this week

Keeping our distance on our desolate country road

Isolation Interview with 3 Unicorns

I took the time to interview the three unicorns on their opinions related to our COVID-19 isolation and physical distancing.

Jo and Big Pig

Addy and Pikachu

Ry and Eevee

What are you enjoying right now about physical distancing?

Rylyn (Age 9) - Nothing.
Addisyn (Age 8) - No school. Spending more time with my family and my stuffie Pikachu.
Josette (Age 4.5) - Punching "Big Pig!"

What is annoying right now about physical distancing?

Rylyn - Missing my friends.
Addisyn - Missing my friends and Josie's constant whining.
Josette - Not seeing Gunner. He's not my boyfriend. I'm not allowed one. But, he basically is. *grins*

What has been your favourite activity since being home?

Rylyn - Playing with my stuffie Eevee. It reminds me of my friend Emma. She has the same one.
Addisyn - Playing with Griffin and Greta and my stuffie Pikachu.
Josette - Playing with Greta.

Disclaimer: Before I am stoned by the Internet Police, Chris' sister is a nurse and we have given child care. If this still bothers you, pretend Griffin and Greta are my house elves. We are otherwise in isolation outside of essentials and not receiving visitors.

Note to self: Stop wasting my time and effort with Pinterest-inspired forgettable moments.

What do you think God has to say about COVID-19?

Rylyn - He doesn't like it and He's trying to make it go away.
Addisyn - It's not good.
Josette - That we love Him. Write that down, Mom!

How is God trying to make COVID-19 go away?

Rylyn - His awesome power and giving people the idea to stay inside.
Addisyn - He gave us brains to use.
Josette - ... *blinks* ...

What do you want to say to anyone who is scared?

Rylyn - [COVID-19] is less aggressive if you are a child. You can worry less if you stay inside.
Addisyn - Don't be afraid. God is with you.
Josette - You should punch a Big Pig. It helps you calm down.

To Chris: What is it like being on lockdown with 4 girls?

Thank God I have a garage.

Chris' people, this is not permission to visit in a social distance-fashion. He has a cellphone. He will be fine. Stay home, as much as possible.

Bonus

While writing this, despite all of our teaching, Josette was sent to her room for walking over to Rylyn and sneezing on her on purpose.

My child, listen to what I say,
and treasure my commands.
Tune your ears to wisdom,
and concentrate on understanding...

He grants a treasure of common sense to the honest.
He is a shield to those who walk with integrity.
He guards the paths of the just
and protects those who are faithful to him.

Proverbs 2:1,2,7,8

May we who are not dealing illness and who can stay home, count that blessing and pray for those who are sick or must serve others at this time.

Equilibrium

God is big enough for our questions. In the face of sickness, we ask, why? So when the world has been brought to its knees because of a microscopic virus we ask, why?

I have a Bachelor's degree in Biology. Much of that learning I have forgotten. The foundation of my understanding is still strong. I have had to reconcile the polarity of my faith and science over the years.

I was in a cohort of students who wanted to learn and teach science. Several of us literally wore our faith on the sleeves of our lab coats in fabric paint. I'm sure mine said something like, "Evolution Sucks!"

In the case of COVID-19, evolution really does suck! I am not writing to debate origins. I believe in a Creator. My belief feels unpopular in the science world. My trust in science feels unpopular in the Christian world. Where does that leave me? To be honest, a lot of times it leaves me fearing criticism so I stay silent.

I enjoy the verses from Eccelesiastes 3: To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die...a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace...He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end.

There is balance in these words. The same sort of equilibrium that science and faith provide me.

Does health exist with out sickness?

A time to go out and a time to stay home. Now is the time to stay home for those who have no other option because they are on the front lines of this pandemic.

And now is a time to pray. I don't pray in a closet. I don't often pray on my knees. My prayers are often mutterings, in the bathroom, in between sending my 4-year old to her room for colouring on furniture...again. Or I write. Don't let your idea of what praying looks like stop you from calling out at this time. My cringe-worthy spiritual disciplines are loved by my Father in heaven. Right now, I am praying while watching Boss Baby.

Jesus, may those who believe in You, may we be love in a time of uncertainty, in word and actions. Give us wisdom. May Your Love be beauty in turmoil. May our gestures of love be inexplicable apart from a love as great as Yours. Be with those who must work, be with those who can stay home, and return those who aren't home yet. Give our leaders wisdom. As we fight with science, may You fight in the miraculous as our Great Physician, like Ecclesiastes says, that we don't know the scope of your work from start to finish. Amen.

The Retreat

In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic (pandemic meaning spreads through our world, not end of the world), I find my life more peaceful than a year prior, maybe even up to three years priors. I think of Esther in the Bible and feel I have been prepared in my soul and spirit for this time, much like Esther was prepared to become queen and save her people.

Our family has helped people through fires over the past year, literal and figurative. Opening our home to those we love and who needed love. Some stay an hour or two over tea. Some stay longer while parents work, travel or get healthy. Our home has been a meeting place of prayer and vision. As we abandon meeting in a church building this Sunday morning, the presence of God is full and alive in the room where I type.

When I think about all those "fires," I believe the spirit of God alive in me, is hearing those prayers for those I love. My worldview and churchview (is that a thing?) have taken dramatic turns over the past year. God is more real and alive to me than ever.

Paraphrased from Priscilla Shirer from a conference I went to, do you want His words for you or seconds from someone else? This blew me away. Here was a woman whose Bible studies I have purchased and thoroughly enjoyed, essentially telling me not to buy her Bible studies. While I still believe in learning from one another, the Christian market is still a market.

I read The Practice of the Presence of God by brother Lawrence and found even in the "church" world there is a lot of clutter. Learning from brother Lawrence helped me see that keeping God present in my life was more important (to me) than attending a bible study. As a pastor's wife, I am cautiously examining my motives. I have done a lot of things in life because of perceived expectations from other people rather than a conviction in myself. My non-Christian (gasp) therapist also helped me see this.

In Bob Goff's Love Does, he writes about saying yes when it means loving others and God living in that yes. The common ground to all of these messages, was that God lives more in my day-to-day than on Sunday. From the times when I was cooking dinner, and in gratitude for some part of my day, I would feel the presence the of God. To those moments of fear, like when I called 911 for Chris, who couldn't breathe, and I couldn't even utter a prayer. He was there.

While I love a worship service (or bible study) to honour God, Christian culture can't be a one-size-fits-all model. Church provides an atmosphere of focus on Him and reminds me who is above all in my life, but I am convicted to live with God in each moment, not just in the church events on a calendar.

I find great peace with the Jesus asleep on the boat in the storm (Mark 4:38) and the Jesus who deserts the crowds after helping others (Mark 6:31). It's the same Jesus who sits with me when I am overwhelmed or can't utter a prayer. He is there. He is the same Jesus who communes with us while we abandon church as we know it in order to slow the spread of a virus.

Psalm 4:8

In peace I will lie down and sleep,

    for you alone, Lord,
    make me dwell in safety.