Highlights of 2009

What I celebrated:

Our 15th wedding anniversary (with a weekend in Kenora),

my inlaws' 50th,

and my children's successes.
What I lost:
I said goodbye to my wonderful Grandma--my last grandparent, my connection to the past, my greatest prayer warrior, one of my best friends, and my biggest fan.

What I gained:
Something to keep my car...

...and my arms warm.

What I accomplished:
I submitted (and published!) a freelance story for the first time in years.

I taught two new courses: Minor Prophets and Communications, opened many pudding cups for first and second graders, sold a few spices, taught my daughter to ride two-wheeler and sent my son to his first week of overnight camp, wrote my Christian Week health column, and accepted a part-time term position as a Mennonite historical researcher.

I painted G's room yellow...

...and Minneapolis red!

Perhaps my greatest memories involve girlfriends new and old:
I joined a monthly support group for mom of special needs kids (which meets at Kelsey's over
free drinks and pricey appetizers), hosted an alfresco tea party, c0-led a women's accountability group, and went for many life-giving coffee dates with special friends.

Happy New Year!

Wif God

My daughter doesn't often bring home spelling words, perhaps because she studies them adequately at school, or perhaps because her teacher doesn't want to increase G's (like-mother-like-daughter) perfectionism by emphasizing the upcoming test. But the week my daughter did bring home her spelling workbook there was a good reason: God needed to send me a message.

Included with G's list of a_e words, I read the three sentences she'd composed to practice them and the second put me on the edge of tears.



Like mother like daughter; we make life hard for ourselves, setting standards we can't meet, focusing on our failures and life's "what-ifs". But deep down we know where we are: safe in God's hands. When we face new challenges--a first college lecture or a second grade test--we sometimes forget.

Then God comes near and spells it out for us again.

peek

Wow, I didn't realize it had been this long since I've blogged. My absence has nothing to do with a dearth of things to write about. The opposite in fact.

My first excuse is that since the beginning of October I've been teaching College essay writing for the first time. Thirty-three students. Ninety-nine essays to mark. Secondly, I blame Facebook--I release so much of my creative energy in 20 word bursts in my daily status updates.

But teaching and Facebook-ing don't explain everything; I've been doing both for years. The main reason is a felt need for privacy. I've experienced so many emotions, changes, and stresses that would have made for intriguing blog posts--may even have encouraged someone--but I don't feel ready to share with the world.

Saturday I went to a discussion on the definition of Mennolit featuring local authors Armin Wiebe and David Elias. Afterward David Elias told me that writing fiction is more truthful than writing fact. A few weeks ago novelist Sandra Birdsell told me the same thing. She said it was like putting a puppet on your hand: a character to hide behind while you uncover yourself in complete honesty.

I know what they mean. I want so badly to show you what's inside, but I'm tired of being vulnerable, of opening myself and my family up to criticism, advice, and gossip. I want to hide behind a character who embodies everything inside me: the fear, the humour, the sexuality, the insecurities, and the dreams...how it feels to be in my skin, and somehow, through my fictional character, to have it all make sense, or at least: something beautiful.

I'm every woman, even with a degree

Recently a pastor told me that she felt God called her to ministry without a masters so she could "relate to everyday women."

I have a masters, and I find the only thing it does is make others think they can't relate to me. People expect me to know more than I do. Sometimes they're intimidated about working with me. I teach Sunday school solo.

Other people's assumptions may make them less likely to approach me, but my education did nothing to my ability to relate to them. Yes, I may have written longer essay, but I've also experienced marriage, miscarriage, minimum wage, childbirth, layoffs, leaky water tanks, PMS, fender benders, and wrinkles - just like "everyday women". When I looked over the edge of my grandma's casket, I didn't think theological thoughts, I wept. And when I weedwacked my ankle, it bled.

Critical thinking textbooks, David Bergen novels, and Dr. Seuss' Foot Book are equally at home on my coffee table. I might read Habakkuk and Revelation more than most people, but despite my wall of commentaries and Hebrew lexicons, I often pick up my Bible and have no idea what I'm supposed to get out of it. I have never worn my grad cap to bed and dreamed of heavenly horsemen. I don't eat scrolls, or locusts.

I'm surrounded by way too much poop and toothpaste to ever loose touch with "the real world." So please, tell me about your rotten, smelly, grace-filled day. I can relate.