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Archive for November, 2012

As I am writing my own blog posts, I do research on the topics I am writing. Often this research leads to my discovery of other bloggers, and through this I have come to subscribe to many who I love to read regularly.

Such was the way I ‘discovered’ the guest post writer of today.

I was researching the word cleaving (a word that is rarely used today) and found a writing by Rabbi Richard Bristol, on his site Standing Strong, titled “What Does it Mean to Cleave to your Spouse?”

The site describes Standing Strong as “an Expositional Liturgical Messianic Congregation (now that is a mouthful) with an outreach to followers of the G-d of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in Israel.” I was drawn to the site even more when I read, in the statement of faith, “our goal is to enrich lives regardless of race, gender, or background.” I like that!

I was blessed by the words of Rabbi Bristol, and I hope that you will be as well.

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It is time, once again, for confession …

Hello, my name is Carole, and I have been whiny!

I have been whiny all week long! I have griped, I have complained, I have been pouty and even a bit surly at times. As I look back over this past week, I really feel a great sense of sorrow for my poor family, co-workers and anyone else who has had the great misfortune to be in my presence this week. Especially my family, who has been on the receiving end of my mood.

I haven’t been yelling or excessively aggressive, so much as lethargic, useless and very little mental capacity for anything beyond making a cup of tea.

My poor family members have tried to share stories of the day, as I stare off into their foreheads. They have asked simple questions, as tears fell from my eyes and I begged, “please, no more questions.” They have asked about making social plans, and been responded to with, “I am struggling to plan which apple to pack in my lunch, ask your father.”

Basically I have been having a week of low physical energy that has turned me into a bit of a ‘bump on a lump’ to live with. My hormones are so fatigued that even they have gone into lethargic hiding (and that is saying something for the hormones of a thirty-nine year old woman … with three years experience). Right now I would just like to follow in the noble line of mothers – of the bear family- and snuggle into a warm and cozy den for a long winter’s nap of hibernation!

Heck, I am so lethargic right now that even my sweet tooth is in absentia (and that might just be a new wonder of the world)!

I have to say, though, that my family has been amazing to me this week. While I was dragging my feet from one place to the next, every time I opened my mouth sounding like Eeyore, and offering little other than food at dinner time (honestly, I am not quite sure how that got done … I must have been on autopilot), they simple moved and swayed around me. Once in a while a hug, or an arm around my shoulders, or an offer of a coffee shop run for my favorite tea latte (aka, my happy drink), or some assistance with a job around the house was given to me, with no hope of anything more than a grunt in return.

A lethargic week? Yes. A week where I know that I am loved by my family? Definitely! I am blessed!

No more Eeyore … besides, 😉 it’s Friday!

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I had the most fun recently at an electronics store recently, and just had to share it.

I admit that I am somewhat nastily opinionated when it comes to electronics stores.

The main reason is that I resent their ‘restocking’ fees. A restocking fee is a charge by a retailer for having to re-shelve an item that you, as the customer, are returning to the store.

Stores have been known to charge anywhere from 1% to 50% of the original cost of the item purchased! Imagine, you purchase a $70 i Pad case (with bluetooth keyboard), because it is not satisfactorily performing for you. The store charges a 20% restocking fee ($14) to put it back on the shelf! That is a dinner out at Subway!

The main reason for electronics stores to charge this restocking fee is packaging. Once a package is ripped and bent, the retailer has a more difficult time to sell that merchandise as ‘new’ – I certainly would choose the computer in the sealed box over the one with the bent corner!

Thankfully, in most situations, if the item was faulty to begin with, most stores will take it back, but do not purchase without first confirming it (perhaps in writing, maybe in triplicate) with the store manager.

So, back to my electronics store experience …

I had a bit of time to burn one evening while picking up groceries and doing errands, and what did I do? Go to a coffee shop and put my feet up with a cup of my favorite hot drink? Slip into a nail salon for an indulgent manicure? Go window shopping in the mall? No, I went on an adventure at the electronics store I detest the most.

I gave myself a challenge: twenty minutes to get into the store, wander around and get out again … without a store employee asking if they could help me!

I was like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, or Jason Bourne in Bourne Identity! I was stealthy without being too obvious as to my goal for the night.

I nipped down aisles, and disappeared into a crowd oohing and ahhing over paper shredders. I bent down out of site to the level of store brand headphones. I hid behind a large store sign advertising a phone case with none other than the familiar faces of either Jacob or Edward.

Not once did I have to give rational for my presence in their hallowed aisles, by answering the constant (predictable) question, “may I help you find anything?” Not once did I have to make small talk with a salesperson who was trying to be my momentary ‘friend’ with the hopes of a great big commissioned sale.

And, when the time I had set aside came and went, I walked, proudly, with my head held high, as I walked through those motion sensor operated doors out to my van. I had beaten ‘them’!

And I giggled all the way home.

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In recent weeks seismic activity of the west coast of North America has once again been in the news. And, every time this happens I think the same thing, ‘I really need to put together an emergency kit, in case THE BIG ONE hits.’

I’ve only been thinking about this since we moved here to the Pacific Coast … over sixteen years ago! It is just that, well, it is like buying life insurance … it is a good, wise and responsible thing to do, but acknowledging that it is something that I might just need is so very depressing.

I remember my first west coast earthquake. It was in the late 1990’s. It was early morning, hubby was preparing for work, our eldest was watching The Big Comfy Couch on TV, and our youngest was an infant in her bed. When the Earth started to shake I was … in the loo, and my first thoughts were not for the safety of our children, but “God, don’t let this be the Big One, I cannot have my body found here!” Ever since that early morning on the throne, I have been thinking an emergency preparedness kit is in order (I also spend much less time in the loo).

I also remember the first time I had to prepare a small kit for our daughter (and her siblings each year thereafter) for her school classroom. One of the things that needed to be added was a note … a note of encouragement … a ‘what if’ note. That was a most traumatic event as a mother!

So now, sixteen years after moving here, the iron has entered my soul, and I am determined to prepare for, what scientists believe to be, the inevitable.

I have started with purchasing tarps and garbage bags, and emptying the large container that will house our kit. I have also started to research what is recommended to put into such a container, how long to be prepared for, and other preparations that need to be made.

In my research I found an article from Parents Magazine, by Wendy Sue Swanson, M.D., called “Are You Prepared for an Emergency?” which is all about  Emergency Preparedness. It is probably the best article I have read, with both a list of necessary items to pack, details to organize, plus rational for those things.

Check out this article by Dr. Swanson, and re-think emergency preparedness for you and your family.

On the subject of earthquakes, I thought I would share a song that comes to mind whenever I hear of such events 😉

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As a parent who believes in prayer, praying for my kids has been a regular thing since even before they were conceived.

One of the realities of prayer is that it is really more about me, than the one who I am praying for, as I do agree with C.S. Lewis who said, “prayer changes me” in this clip from his Shadowlands story.

But this is not something that I was fully aware of when I was a young mom. In the early days of motherhood I prayed, anticipating that God would grant my every request. Much like Santa with my gift list at Christmas time, I think that I subconsciously believed that if I was obedient to Him (kind of the equivalent to “being a good little girl”) then God would reward me by meeting my every wish and desire that was expressed in my prayers to Him. I may have even believed that I deserved to have my prayers answered.

When my children were young I prayed that they would grow up healthy, would make wise choices, and that they would be opened to God’s leading in their future decisions, especially surrounding their choice of friends, career and their choice of future spouse. These are all good, and I am not saying that I do not wish those things for them, but that I now wish even more for them.

The reality is that character rarely is developed without the exposure to temptation, life is not fully appreciated without the threat of or reality of loss, some of the best choices in life are made on the heels of the stupidest mistakes in our lives, love is rarely long lasting without enduring the struggles, and dependence on God rarely comes without a season of questioning His ways.

Really, the best things in our lives have often been born out of disaster, death and despair. Failures, mistakes and heartbreaks have a way of opening our eyes to what really matters to us, they have a way of drawing us to cling to God like nothing else.

I don’t pray for disaster for our kids, but I also have lived long enough to know that the greatest growth in life can come from the greatest difficulties. I also have lived long enough to know that life is hard, mistakes get made and difficulties will come to everyone in time.

Now I pray that they might have strength, grace and courage when the rough stuff of life happens, and that they might grow closer to their Heavenly Father through it all.

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Why does a couple need to get away, alone? In this day and age, it is not like parents have to share their bedrooms, their beds with their children (well, except maybe for some parents of toddlers and preschoolers). We have locks on our bedroom doors, homes of great comfort, and vehicles that can get us away for a few hours at any time … any time that we are both free!

Hubby and I stole a few hours to ourselves this past weekend. He had the entire weekend booked off. Our Chinese students were planning to spend the weekend with relatives in another city, our daughter had plans to have a sleep over with a friend, and hubby was hot on a trail to find a place for our son to go.

After drop offs, errands and appointments we finally fell into our seats at the Greek restaurant we agreed to meet at for a nice, quiet dinner … for two.

And that is pretty much the only detail of our time away together that I am planning to share!

So, why does a couple need to get away, alone?

After this recent brief time away, I can answer it clearly and concisely … intimacy.

In the day to day of life with kids, pets, jobs and so many other responsibilities, survival mode is the one we stay in most of the time. Our conversations are about schedules and driving and issues related to everything but our relationship with each other. Our physical intimacy boils down to a quick kiss on the cheek and need meeting. Our ability to love the other with adoration, respect and desire is hindered by bills, fatigue and interruptions.

Basically we forget why we got together in the first place, while we are in a relationship that can begin to look more robotic than romantic.

After a few hours alone together, our conversations become more deep, more personal, more intimate. We are free to venture into areas such as dreams and fears. We are free to be just one couple, not parents, employees, bill payers, laundry doers, kid drivers, football coaches … just ONE couple.

And in having the opportunity to be alone reminds us of the intimate oneness that was all part of the plan from the beginning, that the two would become one. Not one parent unit, not one property management, social committee, corporation, but one couple.

To miss out on this opportunity of intimate oneness would be a great loss.

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“And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars.
See that you are not alarmed,
for this must take place,
but the end is not yet.”
Matthew 24:6

I do not know all that is involved in the meaning behind the passage above. Wars and rumors of wars have been taking place almost since Adam and Eve first ate of the fruit that they were instructed not to eat.

Today is Remembrance Day (Veterans Day, Armistice Day) a day that brings a watery-eyed stare to the eyes of veterans, a day for those of us living in peace and freedom an opportunity, not to glorify war, but to thank those who sacrificed for the gift of peace and freedom.

There is nothing like hearing the stories of freedom attained during WWII as the Canadian soldiers (and others) marched into Holland, or the stories of Jews who survived the Holocaust, because of the freedom attained through the lives of others, to push me to a cenotaph on November 11 … it is the least I could do.

Soldiers are not warmongers, they are men and women who are called to give … give their time, their youth, their will, and even their lives. They are fulfilling not a desire to kill, but a desire to prevent others from being killed, abused, demeaned, disrespected. They are fulfilling their job, as instructed to do so.

But it does not mean that those with whom they are enemies in wartime, are enemies in times of peace.

My family and I are blessed to see the redeeming work of God every Sunday, just by going to church. You see, the make up of our church is something that only God could do, and He has done it so well. On any given Sunday our sanctuary is filled with individuals from all over the world. And, in the pews sit many veterans … Canadian, German, and (until recent years) Russian … wartime enemies, peacetime friends.

I struggled with locating a ‘guest post’ for today. I so wanted something that would be meaningful, respectful, honoring.

So, in light of my earlier words about freedom, I want to introduce you to Neil Wilkenson, a British Gunner during the Falkland War, and Argentinean fighter pilot Mariano Velasco. During this war Neil shot Mariano’s plane down, and has been dealing with post traumatic demons ever since. In an effort to find inner peace, Neil wanted to find out what happened to the fighter pilot he shot down. This is the story of their reunion, and the freedom that was found by these wartime enemies.

In the words of Neil, “the welcome was everything I had thought of, no thoughts of hatred, nothing but pure admiration for each other and as former professionals we both understood it was our duty to carry out what we had against each other back in 1982.”

Another, more intensive link is here.

 

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As I sat looking at the schedule for chapel at school, back in September, my eyes glanced Remembrance Day chapel, and the name of the teacher who is responsible each year for it. Immediately the name and face of man in our church came to mind.

This man is a veteran of World War II, during which he served as a fighter pilot, out of the airfields of Britain. He has seen, smelled and felt the glories and agonies of many battle successes as well as defeats, including being shot down resulting in the loss of three fingers, and in the loss of many fellow soldiers.

There have been sharing times at our church when he has bravely bared his heart through his memories of his time at war. His speaking is always well delivered, clear, authoritative and moving. He can draw a picture in the mind of the listener when he speaks. His stories contain real, vivid memories of specific battles, when only a small portion of his comrades returned afterward, stories of sorrow, stories of loss, stories that always end with a mention of wishing he had known then about the God who had His hand on his life, even though it he had not known him personally until more than sixty years later.

Well I spoke to this veteran, excited by my great idea to have him share his story with today’s youth. I just knew that he would be the man who would share in such a way that the listeners would not hear of the gore of video games and movies, but of the real experiences and emotions that war produces, as well as a sincere interjection of how faith, however late in life is found, is never too late.

The response from this man, this veteran, adequately sat me back on my behind. His response was sacrificial … he would agree to do it, but only because my hubby and I love him, and he loves us.

All of a sudden, I got it … I got the message that Remembrance Day should provide for all of us who have so little to remember. That message is that the stories that we hear, the remembering that we are exposed to, are not just ceremony with hymns, trumpets and marching, they are not just stories, like fairy tales from a book. They are the memories of men and women who have sacrificed for freedom. They are memories that communicate that the sacrifice is on-going. It did not end when the war was declared ended, it does not end until their inner war is finally declared finished, one that ushers them from this life and into the next.

The following Sunday I spoke with him, thanked him, and told him that our friendship was in no way a reason for him to have to re-live his memories. I told him our friendship would never ask such a sacrifice of him … that he had sacrificed enough already.

With tears in his eyes, he said he just didn’t think he could do it. And that is okay, because he has done enough already!

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“I really do think my hubby is brave. In a world where men still seem to feel the need to control much of life around them, my hubby is confident in who he is … confident enough that he lets me also be who I am, and for that I am immensely thankful.”

I wrote the above this past summer in a post called Brave Husband where I wanted to give credit to my hubby for allowing, and accepting my creative side in our home and garden. And this post is the second and final post about the closet reno. that is (finally) complete.

It began with a vision in my head, and an itching in my soul to tear down, and build up. I ripped everything out of the closet, and put on my construction hat.

I had a plan, measured, cut, changed the plan, sweated, built, changed the plan yet again … I am a natural at adapting and modifying!

After the frame was built, the bench and lower shelves installed, much of what was left was the beautifying. And it doesn’t take much time in the beautifying to discover that it is there that things can get costly.

For example, I wanted to install a shelf, above the coat hook area (to place my very cool -cheap- older suitcases, for storage). I was thinking that rustic, wooden corbels would do the trick (much like the ones to the right). Well, apparently the law of supply and demand would indicate that there is great demand for them (try broken ones for $100 each!!!) thus, I needed a new plan.

So, off to the orange home store, where I scored four cast iron looking plant hooks, which cost less than $4 each. Then to the dollar store where I found real cast iron hooks for just $2 each (and since I had two from another project, I only had to purchase four).

My goal for this project was to not spend more than $100 from beginning to end, utilizing as many materials as I could from around our home, and purchased from thrift stores and yard sales. I was sure that I might just blow the budget completely when I started to seek out estimates for foam for the bench. The price range was $56 and up! After I picked my weakened self off the floor, I started considering other ways to get foam. My final purchase was a foam mattress topper, which I cut myself, and it cost $15.

The fabric for the pad was a bit of a concern too, but I said my prayers before walking into a thrift store one day, and low and behold, there was a roll of fabric for $10, that I really loved, and was only $10.

I was able to use moldings that I had laying around from previous projects, as well as paint, and many nails, screws, caulking (a little DAP will cover a multitude of sins poor cuts), and decor.

The following are the things I had to purchase:

$27.24 for drill bits and plywood
$48.29 for bead board and nails
$7.00 for the ‘TV cabinet’ that became my lower shelves
$10.55 for paint for trim (my old can had not been closed tightly 😦
$15.98 for the brackets to hold up the top shelf
$9.00 for hooks
$9.99 for the fabric
$15.49 for the foam
$7.oo for the two suitcases
$12.49 for the extra moldings

So, I was over my $100 budget, but still it was not a terrible cost, with the grand total coming in at $163.03, and NONE of that cost was labor, because I did it all myself (with a little help from my guy when I would get a screw stuck … I think we need a new, cordless, drill).

This project, with all it’s challenges, dust, mess, sweat and head scratching really fed my creative being. I felt refreshed for having the opportunity to demolish, plan, build and create.

Through the process hubby encouraged me, assisted with the challenges I have as the physically ‘weaker’ sex, and told me it looks so much better when it was all done. He knows that I tend to get a bit OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) when it comes to my creative projects, resulting in him BBQ’ing more meals than normal, driving kids more often than normal, and more mess around the house. Yet, he continues to encourage me to be … me.

I think I will keep him!

(… because I have a bigger project planned for next summer 😉 )

 

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There are things we need to survive. Things like shelter, food, love. Without those three things we really cannot survive.

As I was watching and listening to a video of Steve Jobs, in his commencement speech at Stanford University in 2005, I had a friends face in my mind, when he said:

“sometimes life’s going to hit you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You’ve got to find what you love … Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work; and the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it.”

Don’t settle …

My friend does her job well. She rarely calls in sick, fulfills all of the requirements of her position, and works many hours beyond the expectations of her employers. Her job helps to give her shelter and food … it helps to meet her needs to survive, but, in her position she does not thrive. Oh, in the beginning her job was something she loved, it did satisfy her, she did thrive. But over time her passion for her position decreased, and it became ‘just a job’.

One of the best pieces of advise I ever got was from a man in his seventies who said, “I always told our kids that if they were not happy in their job, it was time to find a new one. A person does no good to himself, or to the company they work for if they don’t love what they are doing.” This man was not one who jumped from job to job, career to career, but he did make a handful of workplace changes over the years, and was in the twilight of life, able to say he loved every job he had.

As a child growing up, my dad worked as an orderly, from mid afternoon until late at night. He did not love his work. It was not until he was in his fifties that he began a job that he loved, that he did not feel he was ‘settling’ in order to do it. He knew he loved it, he wanted to spend more time, more energy to do his job better, and he was very successful.

I love my job, but when that love affair starts to be more about surviving than thriving, I will know it is time to look around and see what might be around the next corner.

I wish, for my friend, that you too could thrive in your work.

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