the flip side...

I started working on Parliament Hill the week after 9/11. I was starting a new job in the one of the most heated environments in the country at the time and to say that anxiety lurked in every corner was certainly a bit of an understatement. Tension and sadness was every where. No one knew what to make of everything that had just happened and our world just looked different.

Being a political assistant, one of the components of my job was to take all of the constituent calls coming in for the Member of Parliament and doing so with an unbiased opinion or political position. My job was to sit in the one of the most emotional charged places while remaining in a nonpartisan position.

I know that this is going to come off sounding somewhat ridiculous for someone that spent nearly four years walking the halls of Parliament Hill…but I don’t actually care much for politics! While I understand, respect and appreciate its role, I also believe that our country holds itself to a certain societal standard that can withstand even the most tumultuous of political hurricanes.

This “at-an-arm’s-length-from-the-political-stratosphere” belief system does have a few exceptions though…and war is one of them…

I have a hard time with war. I have a hard time understanding war and I have a hard time believing in war. I know that there are reasons that are beyond my comprehension because as I’ve mentioned here before, history is always written by the winners; those who are left standing and can tell the story…usually while leaving the other side out. So I do understand that there are reasons beyond what I can see; rights, safety, responsibility to help those who can’t necessarily help themselves. But no matter how much I rationalize this in my head…all I can think about is the loss; the loss of innocence, the loss of life, the loss of decency. There is so much extraordinary loss…and that, in turn, becomes the other side of the story.

The week that I started my new job was that the same week that our Prime Minister at the time, Mr. Jean Chretien, declared that Canada would not be joining President Bush’s War on Terrorism. I’ve always been a big fan of Mr. Chretien but I’ve never been as proud of him as I was on that day!

Allow me to apologize now if I happen to offend of my U.S. readers (or Canadian readers for that matter) but I just need to say that for whatever impact President Bush may have had on my views regarding war, he lost me entirely when he stated that “you’re either with us or you’re against us”. No matter how strong the argument may be or how tragic the events leading up it; war is simply not black or white.

I can only speak for myself when I say that such a statement made me feel bullied. It made me feel like some big kid at school was trying to back me into a corner and threatening to steal my lunch money every day if I didn’t join the after school fight that was about to happen in the playground. And I’m not trying to imply that this war was or is a childish battle of kids fighting over sand in sandbox…I’m just trying to say that ultimatums aren’t often very effective…even when you are the biggest kid in school.

So allow me to backtrack once again to 2001, the week following Mr. Chretien’s statement. I was being riddled with phone calls in the office from constituents wanting to share their views regarding his decision. Some were angry, some were happy and others just sat on the phone and cried. It was a hard week. That Friday afternoon, around 4:15pm, a gentleman called to express his outrage at Mr. Chretien’s decision and how he should be forced to step down as Prime Minister because he’d become a disgrace to our country.

I had been taking in people’s emotions for two weeks now and I had been forced to politely sit there responding as though I was one of the few that had somehow been immunized from the effects of what was going on around me. This could only go on for so long. So after listening to him literally yell at me on the phone for twenty minutes, the nonpartisan, unbiased side of me began to fade away and the well bred debater in me began to emerge. We began to chat for a little while…we began to ask questions. We stopped being a constituent and a political office and started being two people facing the prospect of war. I asked him if he had any children…he said yes; a son and a daughter. I asked him if either of them were in the military; he said no. I asked him if he would still support this war to the same degree if either of them were going to be the ones to fight it; he was silent…and he was appalled.

I had apparently just flown the emotional equivalent of a terrorist piloted plane into his argument and now a different kind of war had begun.

He just hung up on me. No other words. No retaliation. He was just gone.

I didn’t ask him these questions to be rude or disrespectful; I asked them because I felt that it was too easy to see this battle as nothing more than a political statement when it is in fact a war that someone has to fight. And that someone might be somebody’s brother or sister; mother or father; wife or husband…but at the very least, that someone is always somebody’s child. And not all of those children are going to come home.

It’s easier to support a war when you know that you won’t be the one receiving a phone call in the middle of the night or holding the flag once draped over a casket. But that’s what war really is; when you peel away all of the political agendas, media frenzies, economic impacts and cloaks of good intention…you have somebody’s child. And that’s always what the real question should be; would you be willing to sacrifice your child to this cause…because that’s very well what you may end up doing?

I think that this is as good a time as any to mention that while I may not support the need to send people to war, I do recognize the choice that many people have made on their own to do so and I support their efforts in the midst of it. But even that hasn’t come without its own line of questioning. I fully acknowledge that past sacrifices were made for our present freedoms but I guess my ideals for the world just leave me in a position of wishing that we never had to sacrifice anyone to begin with. So it seems though, there will always be fights to be fought and battles to be won and now it’s our turn to bear the potential brunt of that sacrifice.

My brother-in-law was shipped off to Afghanistan on Monday to spend nine months fighting in a place that keeps sending our men and women home in wooden boxes. He’s going to fly our soldiers around because they keep getting killed by roadside bombs. And while I’m beyond proud of him for what he’s willing to do for his country, I don’t enjoy listening to my six year niece on the phone talking about how her daddy has to go away for a long time; or watching my sister-in-law become a single parent for close to a year; or hearing his mother’s teary-eyed account of saying goodbye to her oldest son; or holding my breath every time the news comes on. I don’t enjoy experiencing first hand what it’s like when somebody’s child goes to war because as I once heard said a long time ago; War is not about who’s right…it’s about who’s left.

Come home soon Jeff…and come home safely…

a word to the young...

This could quite possibly be the very best thing that I've ever seen...!!!!

pick your poison...

So I’ve concluded that I have a love-hate relationship with my mind. The mind really is a beautiful thing to waste but it’s also a very complicated entity and, in my humble opinion, more than what many of us are capable of dealing with. It’s like any wide open space that isn’t used to our presence…nature always wins in the end.

I’ve been blessed with a very creative mind. It enables me to see the world in a very unique and intricate way. I am moved by colour and balance and harmony. I forever see the world through poetic eyes that may never fully understand the inner workings of tax returns or computer software! And I’m okay with that. My mind is romantic and whimsical and never gets enough of wishing that it could fly.

My mind however, can also become a very dark place. While I don’t think that it’s in its nature to be there, it has been known to drift…to wander…to venture to other side of the mountain that is engulfed with shadows. And sometimes, once it gets there, it doesn’t always know how to find its way back. My mind’s curiosity over such places has dwindled significantly over the past years (thankfully!) but in the rare occasions when it just can’t help itself…it becomes scary. I think that everyone’s been afraid of the dark at some point throughout their life but I find that the ghosts in your mind are exponentially worse than the ghosts in the closet.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a very self-aware person, or at least tried to be. Ever since I was a little girl, I would ask myself why I did things a certain way or why I felt the way I did about various things. It takes a lot of energy to be “in your mind” that much and there were times when I wished that I had just let myself be a kid instead of trying to pick apart all the connections that made up who I was as a person, albeit little one at the time.

As I got older, this became a bit more of a problem because with age comes presumed wisdom and with that presumed wisdom comes the courage to go further. And when you travel to very dark places, it can often be hard to tell what is real and what is merely a shadow lingering in the night. You get confused, disoriented and before you know it, you can’t even remember how you got to there in the first place. Grounding yourself matters…having a compass or something to guide you back is necessary when you’ve roamed too far away from home. Unfortunately for me and my restless mind, I don’t care much for maps!

I used to think that it was necessary for me to be able to take these mental trips without getting lost. I somehow felt that it was essential to prove to myself that I could get there and back and still be the same person. Only now am I starting to learn that it’s not such a bad thing to stick close to home. Light is a good thing. Knowing where you’re going is a good thing. Leaving a trail of Hershey kisses behind you is a good thing. But deliberately throwing yourself to the lions just to see if you can get out with all of your limbs is not really a good thing. In fact, it’s a silly thing. I would never recommend it to my husband or my soon-to-be son or anyone else that I loved. In fact, I would probably smack them upside the head and ask them how they ended up losing all of their marbles!

It is hard though. I almost have to wonder if some of us are just born with an intrinsic need to push our emotional stability in ways that are not always healthy. For me, it’s been labeled as generalized anxiety, for others its obsessive compulsive disorder or perfectionism; the need to please or self-criticism. Choose your weapon…pick your poison, but for all of us, it’s a place in our mind that most people don’t go to…and I wish I could be more like “most people”. I wish I could see the shadows without having to see what hides amongst them. I wish I could look at unchartered territory without feeling the need to see where it goes. I wish I could free myself from the suffering that comes with confusing what’s real with what isn’t.

I wish I could understand that, for me, the real cancer isn’t a tumor…it’s a lifetime spent being afraid of one.

this too, is God...

Ugh…I just love Thanksgiving and I can’t believe that it’s come and gone again already! This year, for reasons that are above and beyond obvious, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the relative stability that our life is experiencing at this moment!! Most people don’t deem “boring” as a good thing but I will happily take it any day of the week and twice on Sunday!

One of the highlights of my weekend (amongst many) was a very long overdue visit with one of my most favourite people in the entire world. We both drove in to downtown yesterday morning for what was intended to be a brief coffee date but ended up being over three hours (and a landslide of lattés!) of much needed catching up. We had both recently experienced a rather tumultuous turn of events with certain people in our lives and were now coping with the fallout and disappointment of realizing that some relationships are simply not what you thought they were. Over the course of our discussion though, we also came to realize that this isn’t necessarily a bad thing; that amongst the rather spontaneous splash of drama that suddenly descends upon your life, there also lies a discreet reminder of all the things that truly do matter in life…and an endless banter back and forth about who did what and when is certainly not one of them!

I am notorious for caring too much. Ever since I was a little girl, it’s always mattered too much to me what other people think. In the last few years though, I have realized what a completely useless worry this had been and how much of my energy was being wasted caring about people who simply didn’t care about me. I do still find myself being blind sighted a lot of the time with such incidents though and that alone tends to take my breath away. I was still recovering from the blow to the stomach when I met up with my dear friend. In fact, it had been weighing on my mind for most of the weekend. But this morning, I woke up feeling like an entirely different person…a lighter person, a happier person…a person who had been looking at things in all the wrong light!!

When my friend and I began talking about our situations more, we both found that we were focusing too much on the negative; on the hurt, on the retaliation, on all the things that didn’t go right. All the while, we were overlooking the quiet blessing that also came with it all. The reality of our combined situations was the same; we had both been trying to rescue relationships that didn’t want to be saved…chasing people that didn’t want to be caught. We were devoting time, energy and emotion to people that didn’t hold us in the same regard. We were trying to communicate with someone that didn’t want to be spoken to and most ridiculous of all is that we were doing all of this while our actual friends stood by watching, like parents just waiting for the boy band hype to pass!!! This realization pounced on us part way through our coffee date and just like that, we suddenly felt like we had just come across our ex-boyfriends on the street while having had the very best hair day one could possibly ask for!!!! Brilliant!

Of course, it’s never easy to part ways with anyone…especially in a hurtful manner but its life. You simply can’t control other people’s moods, reactions or insecurities. Half of how a relationship will turn out (or half of how a relationship will end!) is dependent on where the other person is in their life. You can throw all your weapons down or you can throw them all at the other person and it still doesn’t change the fact that everyone has their own share of accountability to carry in this world.

But in the end, what does this all mean? It means that this too, is God. It means that with the loss of one relationship (that really wasn’t that good for me to begin with) I am freed to devote my time to the amazing people in my life that don’t actually need to be caught. I am reminded to take my eyes off the one that didn’t work and refocus on the ones that do. I am humbled to what friendship really means in this day and age and I intend to play my part in continuing to make them sincere. I am encouraged to walk away from all things unhappy, unkind and unhealthy because I can only be me…imperfections and all.

Mostly though, it means that this past Thanksgiving, I wasn’t just thankful for the relationships that mean the world to me…but I was also thankful for the relationships that didn’t manage to make it that far because in the end, they provide the perfect opportunity to remember and appreciate the ones that do.

{Oh…it also means that there are very few problems in life that Starbucks can’t fix!! But we already knew that!}

baby steps...

When I was growing up, I certainly didn’t always know that I wanted to have children. So many of the girls that I went to high school with had very long term plans that always included getting married and having a family. This often made me feel like I was missing the “maternal gene” because at sixteen, the thought of having children seemed like a lifetime away and at that time (and teenagers are notorious for lack of foresight!), I didn’t necessarily want to have children. I had a hard enough time taking care of myself none the less an entire other human being. I think that most of my family members wouldn’t hesitate to say that, while I may not have thought so at the time, I most definitely had plans for a family. What they never seemed to realize though was that liking children and wanting children are too very different things.

It really wasn’t until I met Steve that I started to feel like I might want a family of my own. There was just something about falling so desperately in love that made me want even more of him…another piece of him to bring into and share with the world. It was always really important to us though, as a couple, to ensure that we enjoyed some time together, being married, before we handed our lives over to a whole new responsibility. We wanted to travel, to have careers, to build roots, to get to know each other and get to know ourselves better. We wanted to get better at being married before we made the leap towards being parents.

So now we’ve done it! We’ve spent four years enjoying a life completely indulgent in each other; we’ve travelled to Hawaii, Australia and Europe. We’ve built our house. We’ve accepted jobs and turned down jobs. We’ve gotten exponentially better at being a team. And yesterday afternoon, we found out that we’re going to have a son!

In approximately four and half months, our little man is going to enter the world and nothing will ever be the same again! We will no longer just be “Gen and Steve” or “husband and wife” anymore…we will be parents and our identities will forever be intertwined in this little baby boy. And I couldn’t be more excited about it!

Of course, the thought did cross my mind that even now, after thirty years, men are still a total and complete mystery to me…so how the heck am I ever going to raise one?!?! But on the other hand...perhaps I just need to accept that it simply may be my lot in life to be surrounded by handsome men!!!

hiding out...

I arrived home last night feeling like I had survived the emotional equivalent of a severe gang beating! The day was treacherous and tumultuous and come the end of the work day, I began to have some serious doubts about the current state of humanity.

When our car rolled into the driveway at home, Steve asked if was capable of being left alone with my thoughts long enough for him to go for a quick run. Out in the world, that’s a tall order but in the comforts of our home, I figured I could manage! So while he went out the door to sweat out his toxins from the day, I resorted to our soaker tub in an attempt to drown mine.

I dimmed the lights, turned on some jazz and was determined to salvage what was left of this day. Mere minutes later, Tugger found a spot on the edge of the tub where he could also indulge in the quiet time and dangle his paws in the water. As the stress and anxiety of the day began to leave my body, I put one hand on my rapidly growing belly and began to explain to our baby why home is truly the safest and most wonderful place on earth…

The longer I sat in the nice warm water, accompanied by our feline, the more I realized how much these walls protected us; the moment we walk through our doors, we become sheltered from the unpredictability of what can be a very unforgiving world.

I wanted our little one to know that the 1,700 square feet that we call home is where we can always curl up under our perfect down blanket and take a much needed nap; where the words of our favourite authors can be found in any corner; where our memories and dreams are framed on all the walls; where our fireplace can warm our cold toes and fingers; where loving words from our family and friends can always be seen in the beautiful cards that they send; where it’s perfectly acceptable to have ice cream for dinner; where the family dress code is fleece and wool socks; where our perfect feline is always happy to keep us company; where we need not answer the phone or check our emails; where chores can always be put off for another day in exchange for a good movie instead; and, just when we think it can’t possibly get any better, the most wonderful sound in the world fills the halls as Steve returns home from his run.

So Little One, the moral of this story is that home is not only our castle but it is, by far, the most wonderful and safest place in the world because at home…we are always loved. And no amount of meanness in the world can ever trump that!

guard your heart...

We continued to study Proverbs at church this past weekend.

“Guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life”

I’ve never really read Proverbs before but I am finding that I just love it. It’s eloquent and beautiful and so simple in nature.

We discussed well-being this week and how guarding your heart, the very essence and core of your being, is the key to wholeness. Of course, by “heart”, it implies your soul and spirit far more than it implies your physical beating heart but just to be safe, they encourage that as well!!!

Studying Proverbs has really given me the desire to weed out the negative in my life. I’d like to think that our life is surrounded by a lot of very positive and loving influences and, for the most part, it is. But if you take a closer look at anything, you’ll start to notice the little things; the things that often fall between the cracks or the habits that often get overlooked. I’ve been trying to take the time lately to not only notice these things but also give myself permission to be very honest about them as well (the significantly more challenging of the two tasks!).

The result has been an autumn purging of sorts. I’ve decided to dust off corners of my life the same way we do the basement! This has included evaluating certain beliefs, behaviours and, in some cases, relationships that may no longer be very healthy for me; relationships that seems to be taking a lot more than they are giving. It’s not easy being on the other end of a purge. I know because I’ve been there myself but in retrospect, I can also vouch for the fact that once the initial blow to the gut was over, it was the best thing for me as well because prior to that…I simply wasn’t brave enough to do it myself.

The bottom line though is that everyone deserves to be happy in their relationships, regardless of their nature. We all deserve to feel accepted, understood and in the midst of a dynamic that encourages us to be the very best version of ourselves as opposed to feeling threatened. Upon further reflection, I came to realize that not all of my relationships were like this nor were they ever going to be, for either party…and so we make decisions accordingly, for the best interest of everyone.

I’ve also noticed that “guarding my heart” also included guarding my blog! I’ve realized that some people actually come here with no genuine interest in my words or my life but rather, to simply stay connected in a way that seeks out the negativity. People that I no longer share my day to day life with come here in hopes of seeing sadness and despair in my life (and if it’s not there, they try to add to it themselves) and that, by all means, does nothing to nurture anyone’s well-being. I’ve always trusted the motives of others and assumed that if they came here, it was for nothing more than the best of intentions. I know now that this isn’t always true (that’s the being honest part!). They know who they are and I know who they are and yet, cyberspace seems to give just the right amount of perceived anonymity to make the release of their toxic energy more acceptable.

So I’m choosing to take the first step in protecting my blog the same way I am determined to protect my heart. I’m not sure if the simple step will work but I have to believe in the goodness of humanity enough to believe that not every element of our lives need to be password protected.

So here we go! I’m quite certain that it’s not what Proverbs had in mind when it said “guard your heart” but I’m pretty sure that the writer of Proverbs didn’t have to deal with the information super highway either!

sibling rivalry...

So it’s official…I’m having a baby! Of course, it’s been official for a while already but now it’s obvious…the belly is showing and there’s no hiding it! If you didn’t really share in my day to day life, then it could just pass as having had a big lunch (or a “food baby” as they would say in Juno!!!) but for everyone else (myself included)…it’s real now! I put on 4.2 pounds this past month which has made my doctor very happy given that I actually lost weight in my first trimester from being so sick.

This past month has really made me realize though what a strange and somewhat contradictory experience having a baby can be. For women especially, we spend so much of our lives paying great attention to our bodies and our appearance. Now, it’s ones job to actually gain weight on a fairly steady basis and I’ll admit that it feels hard at times. It’s strange to watch your waist line expand and to know that it’s supposed to be happening that way!!

This stopped being hard about a week ago though when I felt the baby move for the first time! Even by text book terms, this is generally quite early on in a pregnancy to feel anything but when something like that moves inside of you…there is simply no mistaking it! My doctor explained to me yesterday that some people, for various reasons, will tend to experience fetal movements much earlier on and lucky for me…it apparently means that all that stretching (or “re-arranging the furniture” as my husband puts it!!!!) could be a bit more agonizing as well! Awesome!

It’s been especially fun over the last week to watch Tugger and the baby battle it out every time Tugger comes to claim his real estate on my lap! Tugger curls up in his usual spot and purrs contently then shortly there after, the baby starts moving up a frenzy!!! I can sort of picture the rivalry going on each time;

Baby: Get lost fur ball…this is my spot!
Tugger: Whatevs man…I’m still bigger than you!
Baby: Yeah…you just wait until that tail of yours becomes public domain!
Tugger: Meh…

And on it goes!

What can I say…everyone wants a piece of the dream ;)

dozing the day away...

Have I ever mentioned how much I love my bed…especially at this time of year? I’m a pretty huge fan of beds in general but our bed in particular is especially wonderful!

We actually received our entire bedroom set as a wedding gift four years ago, including our mattress. It’s this unbelievably comfortable queen size, pillow top mattress that simply radiates happy dreams! Right around this time of year until about April, we drape a king size feather duvet over top of us that is wrapped with the softest and comfiest cover from Pottery Barn that we ordered the year we moved into our new house. Lest we forget the pile of delectable pillows and the wool blanket that we also got for our wedding that stretches across the end of our bed for those extra chilly nights! Add on top of that the purring fur ball of a cat that is usually found buried somewhere amongst this heavenly creation and the pile of delicious books that is always perched on the night stand…and frankly, why would I ever leave?!?!

I’m actually convinced that our bed could heal just about any ailment given enough time!

In recognition of the fact that my time spent in my bed may be diminished quite a bit come March, I’ve been indulging in it as much as I can lately! This ended up including two afternoon naps this past weekend as the cool autumn air breezed through our bedroom window. I would get through a chapter or two of my latest literary indulgence, Little Women, before I would doze off once again with Tugger contently curled up next to me.

It was perfect. As perfect a way to spend the last weekend of summer that I can think of…

It did interfere slightly with my level of productivity though this weekend because I did have a fair bit that I wanted to get done but, as my colleague told me this morning, I’m being quite productive on a cellular level…so it doesn’t really matter how much I get done around the house anymore!!!

Amen!

ignorance is bliss...

I never really used to like the expression “Ignorance is Bliss”. It always seemed like a cop out to me…a reason to stay oblivious to the world around you. I’ve always been a fairly pro-active person; in matters of health, education, international affairs. I like to do my homework, know what I’m getting into and move forward with all the facts in front of me. I’ll be the first to admit that this has caused the odd tumultuous relationship between Google and I, but for the most part…we’re friends! I guess you could say that I’ve always been a big supporter of the after school public service announcements that teach “The More You Know!”

I did learn this weekend however, that ignorance does have its place and that without it, so many of the lessons that get us through life would never happen.

Take Saturday for example; it was a perfectly delightful and sunny day when I was awoken with a Starbucks in bed from my husband! The air was cool, the sky was bright and I was about to spend the entire day shooting Caroline and Brent’s wedding out in Bourget at her parent’s property. For all intents and purposes, it was a perfect reason to smile and get out of bed with tons of enthusiasm at the day ahead. However, had I known then that I would end up spending a good chunk of that night stranded on a deserted country dirt road in the middle of nowhere…then I might have changed my mind! Had I known that my car just wouldn’t start again after pulling over to check directions as a thick and intense fog rolled over the country…then I might have just stayed buried under the covers! Had I known that I was going to find myself wandering aimlessly in the dark while believing that I was going to play the starring role in the next episode of Criminal Minds…then I might have just opted to stick with my day job instead of braving this new venture!

So ignorance was clearly created for a reason and I’ve just never given it enough credit up until now! Without it, we would likely never try something new and brave through the elements. Ignorance keeps us sheltered from being scared off by how many times we’re going to fail before we succeed; it protects us from running for the hills because we’d already know the errors in judgment that we’re about the make. And as miserable as it is to endure failing, or panicking, or having your heart broken, or being stranded in the middle of the night…it is also necessary. It’s necessary to fail sometimes in order to succeed; it’s necessary to panic sometimes in order to problem solve; it’s necessary to watch a relationship fall apart sometimes so you can know how to put it back together again; and it’s necessary to walk the dark country roads of a Stephen King novel sometimes in order to learn why you should invest in a cell phone…

go...

I read the most fantastic book while we were in Italy! A friend had given me the book The Elegance of the Hedgehog by French novelist Muriel Barbery for my birthday and being poolside in Rome seemed like the perfect place to crack it open. Simply put; I was hooked from page one! It’s unlike most novels that I’ve read but I absolutely loved it. The characters are wonderful and endearing, and the language is nothing short of intoxicating. Read it!

But on separate note, this book also introduced me to a game called Go, a strategic game that originated in ancient China but is most commonly known for its popularity in Japan. Being a bit foggy on the actual rules of the game, my knowledge of it is a bit limited however, I have come to learn that the basic idea of the game is that using something much like a chess board, two players (with either black or white pieces) occupy the game board while they try to move their pieces across to the opposing side of the board. However, each player can only continue to play as long as their opponent also has a certain number of pieces on the board as well. Ultimately, one player wins, but only with the help of the other. I found the concept of this game striking because much of life is about winning…about power; people constantly trying to be the best or be right or be in control and in turn, you must eliminate the opponent. However, that being said, you can’t completely eliminate your opponent because without them, there is no one around to acknowledge your power in the first place…in which case, you essentially don’t have any. But here is a game that’s built entirely around the premise that in order to win…you must also help build up your opponent as opposed to annihilate them. In order for anyone to move ahead, both players must work together. Astounding!

The idea of anything occurring strategically in which greed actually causes you to lose seems like a somewhat foreign concept in our current society. We live in a day and age that tends to be consumed with greed, both monetarily and emotionally. History is always written by the winners…those still left standing to actually tell the story! The more I consider it, the more I realize just how conflicting this must be to human nature to try to balance one’s pursuit of betterment and success without remaining entirely focused on your self.

I’ve been thinking about this concept a lot lately as Steve and I begin to move forward with a lot of major decisions in our life. Mostly, the main objective of our current game is the best interest of our future family. As we prepare for the arrival of our son or daughter, we realize more and more that the decisions we make will no longer be just about us and in turn, they need to be made with a sense of responsibility and protectiveness that only comes with making choices on behalf of another being.

We most certainly want to proceed with our life and our choices in a way that builds instead of depletes. Of course, that is easier said than done when those around you aren’t always playing the same game but our part, at the very least, is to play by the rules of our game. We’ve been noticing that even a game built around such strategic diplomacy doesn’t always leave both players walking away with all of the pieces they may have started with but that being said, we have found ourselves getting shuffled around the board a fair bit as well.

But at the end of the day, I’m left feeling hopeful that a game of such kind even exists at all. That somewhere…twenty-five hundred years ago…someone else also desired a world in which we could all move forward; a world in which we could each move across the board – and through life – without the concern of a being wiped out in the meantime. Life changes, people grow, mistakes are made and lessons are learned…but those are all the moves that we make to get us from one side to the other. More importantly though, I want our child to not only be a player that builds but one that is also surrounded with other players all following the same set of idealistic rules; to build and not destroy. To not destroy ones self-esteem or sense of worth; to not destroy one’s right to having feelings or speaking up about them; to not destroy the very essence of growth and learning; to not receive harsh words as retaliation for hurt feelings. It's a destruction that I see a lot as an adult.

I acknowledge that perhaps my view of the world that I hope for our child is a world that may not exist yet…that the world and many of the people in it will still prefer to be right instead of being happy. There are still places though, whether they are the ends of the earth, corners of cyberspace or small circles of friends and family where you know you can just go; go about your life; go through life and go be a player in the very greatest game of your life.

And everyone has to go somewhere...

my summer vacation...

Do you remember when you were younger and were just going back to school around this time? It never failed that, inevitably, during some time in the early weeks, you’d get asked to write an essay about your summer holidays! My English class was suddenly a flurry of tales regarding adventures at camp and family trips to the Cape…it always seemed like such a nice way to wrap up the summer months and move into the academic year.

It’s been a really long time since I’ve had to write one of those essays but with the city buzzing full of brand new students this week, it got me feeling a bit nostalgic for our back-to-school ritual and left me compelled to tell you a bit about how I spent my summer months!!

I found out that I was pregnant on July 2nd. It was a really hot and muggy day in Southwestern Ontario and I hadn’t been sleeping very well. The great debate occurring in my head regarding whether or not our world was going to flip upside down in the not so distant future was monopolizing most of my waking hours. Sure enough, two little pink lines were about to tell a really big story!

And then it came; the Great Sickness! It descended upon me in the middle of night while we were away visiting friends. It creeped into our bed, under our blankets and took over every square inch of my body…and then furthermore, it proceeded to stay and keep me company for almost eight entire weeks!

That pretty much became the story of my summer holidays; being curled up in a little ball on my couch…in my bed…on the bathroom floor…at my desk…you name it, as our future offspring kicked my ass for two months straight!!!!! I’ve seriously never felt so sick in my entire life!!

I recently read that the body of a woman at rest in her first trimester of pregnancy is working as hard as a woman running a marathon. And I’ve run a marathon before, hence I can vouch for the fact that it wasn’t pretty, which would likely explain why I spent a large chunk of time feeling like I was having a disease instead of having a baby!

Part way through my summer, when I felt like there was going to be no end to my state of misery, I asked my good friend Joanne if, at the very least, this entitled me to a token “you’re-grounded-for-no-other-reason-than-the-fact-that-you-made-me-barf-for-the-entire-summer-of-2009” card??

She said no…apparently guilt right out of the womb isn’t the way to go!!!!

check.it.out...

I'm so glad that a picture can say a thousand words...
because even the writer in me needs a little help with this one!!

Little Baby Smyth...we can't wait to meet you in March!!

Love,
Mom and Dad
xoxo

all together now...

For all those toddlers with impeccable musical taste...!!!

leaving on a jet plane...

I’m reading Eat Pray Love. Again. For something like the sixth time! Because I love it just that much! It also seemed wildly appropriate to read it as we were heading off to Italy for a much needed “Elizabeth Gilbert-esque” makeover of my own.

I’m not necessarily proud to say this but truth be told, I’ve never looked or felt more tired than I do right now. My entire body simply radiates fatigue at this moment and while I know that ten days in Europe is not the everlasting cure, I do know that ten days in the Eternal City is better than ten days spent here. The last two months (who am I kidding…the last EIGHT months!) have been really challenging and my poor body has taken quite a beaten because of it. I’ve coped and I’ve actually coped quite well but everything has its limit and the timing of this trip couldn’t be more ideal. I can’t think of a better place to renew my body and soul than a country that prides itself on the pursuit of pure pleasure!!! I mean really, any nation that encourages you to eat gelato at 9am is alright by me!!

Steve and I are embarking on a transition of sorts right now and the next ten days is the perfect way to bridge the entrance to some pretty significant changes. A lot is about to happen in our world upon our return and while we’ve known about them for awhile, anticipation is very different than reality. Many elements of our life are undergoing some major overhauls; changes with our work, family moving away, a brother heading to Afghanistan for nine months…and the list goes on. Undoubtedly, the wheels are going to start spinning at a fairly rapid pace when we get back and I think that this trip will provide us with just the opportunity we need to get a little bit more grounded.

So I’ve got my sunscreen, my toothbrush and some good magazines for the plane!

I’d say that I’m set!

See you in ten days!

checking in...

I spent some time in Starbucks this morning while waiting for my appointment and I ended up finishing the book My Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs! One word (three syllables!); a.ma.zing. Seriously…it was brilliant and refreshingly humorous! Jacobs is a writer for Esquire Magazine and decided to take his secular self and live an entire year following all the rules of the Bible as literally as possible. This is no easy feat for anyone nonetheless a New Yorker!!

I honestly thought that the book was fantastic and I was sad when it ended. I loved seeing the manner in which a person would change shape while learning all about the Bible for the first time and in many ways, we share very similar beliefs. Though Jacobs is agnostic and I’m Catholic, I very much agree with the words of David Usher; “I believe your truth is not my truth and that God can exist in many places at one time”. This is not a view that many of my fellow Catholics would be happy to share with me but for better or worse, I’m okay with a world of mixed beliefs…even if they are not mine!

My favourite part of the book was the manner in which Jacobs would do little “status reports” throughout the course of the book reporting on the evolution of his faith as he ventured further into his year. I like the idea of taking momentary checks with your self. I don’t do that enough. I have a tendency to look back when all is said and done…but hardly ever “mid-stream”. So it compelled me take some time this morning during my walk to work to do a mental status report on my post-traumatic stress progress.

Where am I? Really?

Quantitatively, I’m seven weeks into my ten weeks of dissecting my feelings regarding what happened. Mentally, I sometimes I wonder if my doctor is going to make it out of this alive! I’m not always the most gracious of patients. Emotionally, I’m tired of the process. I often walk out of there feeling as though I’ve just survived a severe gang beating; twenty years of fearing cancer takes hold of me and never fails to kick my ass. Needless to say that I don’t really feel like I’m winning this battle at this moment. It makes me wonder what the real cancer is; the potential tumour or the never ending fear of something that may or may not ever exist? Either way, I certainly know which one is more poisonous. This thought eventually led to another one though and it posed the question of whether or not this is actually a battle to be won or lost? Perhaps it’s actually a nagging roommate that I need to learn to be friends with so we can be in the same room together without fighting over the remote control. Perhaps we were always meant to share the same space but we just never determined the ground rules of living together yet. Maybe it’s about cohesiveness instead of a notice of eviction…about understanding instead of conquering. Maybe it’s about not just checking in with my self more often but also with the big bad monster that lives under my bed.

Or maybe my big bad monster needs to spend some time with my doctor instead of me…I’m tired of being the middle man!!

a closer look...

I’ve been wondering a lot lately about how people perceive themselves. This was triggered in me when I noticed some rather offensive facebook material that left me pondering words none other than this…“and to think that these people are and/or will be parents” {insert cringe here}. As people leave racial and highly cynical remarks all over the pages of cyberspace, I can’t help but feel tempted to ask them if that’s the sort of thing that they would want to be passing on to our world’s most impressionable. It’s as though becoming adults has left us the freedom of financial and personal responsibility but we’ve disregarded the higher and more important responsibility…that which is owed to those other than ourselves.

I don’t have children of my own but I don’t think that you need to be a parent to acknowledge that a lot of time is spent being very cautious about the people who influence the children in your life. You want them to mingle with the “right” crowd, go to the “right” schools, preferably grow up in the “right” neighborhoods and yet all the while, how often do we consider if we, ourselves, are people that we would want our children spending time with? Do we demonstrate the same values and morals that we would want our children to learn or do we leave it up to those “right” people and places to do that for us?

Of course, we’d all like to think that we play our part but I’m really starting to wonder. If I had children, would I want them to demonstrate the same self-criticism that I have towards myself or expect discipline from them that I have yet to achieve? Simple answer; probably! And why not? We always want the best for the children in our lives, right? But then I find myself wondering whether or not that’s a fair expectation to put on any child; to expect them to learn despite our own example? Simple answer: no!

All this to say that I’ve taken this realization as an opportunity to attempt at curbing some of my own behaviour based on the “would I want my child to see this?” theory! It’s one thing to do something and judge it as right or wrong by your own standards but it’s entirely different to do so when you’re considering the influence on future generations. Perhaps next time I’m tempted to exude my judgement or my jealousy, I’ll imagine the future “mini me” standing alongside and maybe that will be motivation enough to reconsider what kind of mark I really want to leave on the world…

the universe wins again...

So everyone has had those moments when the universe subtly nudges you in a certain direction but don’t you just love it when it outright slaps you in the face?!?! I don’t have those moments a lot but when I do, they usually make me laugh out loud from the pure irony and hilarity of their timing.

Today, I had one of those moments!

For a little while now, I’ve been considering shutting down this blog. I’ve had the hardest time though because there is a piece of me that really, really doesn’t want to. I’ve grown so attached and while my posting may be a bit more sporadic than I would like right now, my blog is still like an old friend that is always there for me when I need it…just waiting for me to vent away about my life’s recent happenings.

A large part of the debate that I have with myself is regarding my writing in general. With the overwhelming amount of work that has been launched into my photography, my writing has taken a major backseat in terms of priority. And I’ve been sad to see this happen. However, I also know that the start of my photography is much like having a small child; it requires a lot of care and attention right now but eventually it will grow up and be able to hold its own a little bit more. I find comfort in this; in knowing that the learning curve won’t always be so steep and that eventually, my photography will be my only job instead of one of my jobs and that in turn, will give my life the equilibrium that it’s been lacking over the past six months. And of course, this is where my novel and my writing in general will once again see the light of day. So needless to say that I haven’t yet been able to pull the plug!

Then low and behold, this morning I received an email from the Manager of Member Outreach at Helium.com, the writing network that I’m a part of, asking if they could feature my blog on their site! Seriously, I had to laugh; just as I was fighting with the idea of bidding farewell, the universe finds its way of telling me that it’s not quite the time just yet! I promptly emailed her back and all the while, accepted the fact that certain powers that be might know better than I do…

…at least for now!

ever after...

It was a Wednesday…an especially delightful one at that. I remember walking down the street towards our apartment during what seemed to be an absolutely perfect summer afternoon. The air was warm, the breeze was light and sun was beaming through the trees. It was, most definitely, a perfect day!

Steve had called me earlier in the afternoon to let me know that he had a meeting that was going to go a bit later and to just head home…that he would see me there. We normally touch base every evening before leaving work and it felt strange not to hear his voice before leaving the office.

I remember thinking to myself as I approached our apartment that we should go out for dinner or dessert or at least do something to celebrate and enjoy how amazing this summer day. We had had a pretty busy summer up until then; we had just moved into our new apartment a few months earlier and I had just changed jobs a few weeks earlier…so a lot of our time involved adjusting to a new routine and getting used to a lot of changes, albeit good ones. It seemed like the perfect occasion to take a breather from our usual schedules and indulgence in the very best of summer.

Steve had other plans though…

As I walked up the stairs to our top floor apartment, I could hear music coming from our living room and it made me wonder if we had forgotten to turn off the radio before leaving home that morning. As I opened the door, Steve popped his head out from the kitchen…smiled and said hi! Clearly confused (because he was supposed to be a meeting), I merely stood in my tracks wondering what I had missed. As I looked around the room, I quickly realized that Steve’s presence wasn’t the only thing that seemed out of place; our apartment was filled with the smell of his famous lasagna; there were a dozen roses on our table in the hallway; our bed was covered with rose petals and our entire apartment was lit with candles. Before I even had the chance to understand what was happening, my beloved was on one knee with the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen. I don’t honestly remember what he said but I remember being speechless because there were no words…only him. Only my Steve…my love…my fiancé!

And here I thought that I was just walking home that day and going out for dinner when really, I was going home and walking right into a fairytale.

a wrestler named jacob...

I’ve been realizing this week just how immature I often still feel in my faith. While I may be turning a year older in a couple of days, I don’t feel like I’ve made the same progress regarding my wisdom. I still worry a lot. I still panic a lot. I still fight the elements a lot. I still would rather talk to God than listen to Him. I still argue with God all the time and often mistake His “not yet” for “no” (and then throw a five year old temper tantrum when I don’t get my way). Most of all though, I still have a really hard time letting go; letting go of the things that I can’t control, letting go of the desire to know the unknown, letting go of the people who have hurt or disappointed me, letting go of my fears and insecurities and letting go of the notion that no matter how much I try to “will” it otherwise…bad things still happen. I have a hard time letting go.

I’m amazed sometimes at how much I am able to lose control (the little amount that I do actually have). My world becomes a fog of anxiety and while I act like time is standing still, it still moves along at its steady pace leaving me looking back, days later, wondering what I did with it. And the reality is that not only do I let this happen…but I make this happen. I make this chaos around me. I make the energy of panic swirl around me in a dense cloud of doom not unlike the funnel clouds that I used to see every summer as a little girl. They too created a deep panic in me that I couldn’t quite shake.

I often spend entire days begging God to help me trust Him more…to take away my despair towards a situation that hasn’t even happened yet (and often never does). And yet I still fight. Just like Jacob, I fight determined to prove to God that I am right and that I ultimately know best. Needless to say that I never win, instead, I make the waiting unbearable with my own rationale and logic (that’s usually drenched with emotion instead of faith).

How do others do it? How do they find that ability to take the possibility of broken hearts and broken dreams, and hand it over for someone else to bear the weight? How did Jacob learn to stop wrestling in the dirt with God all the time? How does someone gain maturity in their faith at the same pace that we gain candles on our cake? When do the answers start coming faster than the questions?

All of this to say that for my birthday, I would like my name to be changed to Israel. It seemed to work nicely for Jacob!!