Advent Advent Lives!

And so Day One of Advent Advent was a success.  A boat load of toys was redistributed, a group of mothers compared notes on our heart's desire to find joy and peace in the Christmas season, and facebook (via NvK) delivered a manageable idea for how to do Advent. The real Advent.

A friend wondered if maybe I was creating a bit too much pressure for Jesus to live up to, you know, what with me wanting to have the Best Christmas Ever. And of course, it's true. I do kind of have high expectations on this one, a rare thing for a person who has made a lifestyle out of creating and maintaining low expectations. But on the other hand, I see all this Advent Adventing as an exercise in being mindful and purposeful about Advent and Christmas so that I don't find myself weeping on December 26th, certain yet again that we missed the whole point.

I suppose that I've put a lot of pressure on myself, to lead my children through the season in such a way that they don't get to the other side feeling let down and disappointed. Or angry and resentful. Or just desperate to avoid it at all costs for the rest of their lives. And my current working theory is that one way of doing this is to dissipate the pressure - instead of all of our joy resting on the fulcrum of One Magical Morning!, what if it got built upon over several weeks, weeks in which being together was a tiny bit more intentional, a tiny bit more ...holy? Okay, I see how that is a lot to ask, but it's my hearts desire, and I'm pretty sure that somewhere in the Bible it says that God loves granting our heart's desire.  And don't you think that wanting to celebrate the part where the Father shares his Son with us so that we'll know how much we're loved is a desire that that same Father might be kind of excited about?

I'm counting on it.

Making Space

Tomorrow is the Advent Advent Toy Swap.  I made it up and made other people participate so that my own need for space could be accommodated.  The mom's group at church will gather as they do on Fridays and bring all their Done With 'Em toys.  We'll spread them out over a few tables and then people will be free to grab whatever appeals.  No valuations, no equal trades, no rules.  Just a socialist redistribution of toy wealth.  Whatever is left over will be thrown in the back of my car and dropped off at the local thrift store.

In addition to making up the Toy Swap, I made up the season: Advent Advent.  It is the time after Halloween and before Advent (aka, "November") when I will prepare for Advent.  I realized that I needed this after last year's Christmas left me feeling behind the 8-ball from the very first day.  I had about 16 Santa's up, but not a single nativity scene or other hint of Jesus. I was full of ugliness about gift buying, particularly for ... well, other people. I found it very difficult to find the Joy of the Lord and was getting pretty fearful that I was building a family tradition of Holiday Hate and Despair for my sweet young children.

So this year, it's Advent Advent. A time to make space and plans for Advent, to be mindful about where I want to set my eyes and my heart for the weeks ahead.

The toy purge is making physical space - I can feel less angry about choosing and receiving gifts for my children if I don't feel hateful and overwhelmed by the collection we already have because I've gone through it and eliminated what is no longer useful or pleasure-making. The toy swap eliminates maybe a very thin layer of consuming by replacing buying with sharing.

Next I will hope to figure out how to make heart-space.  Ideas?

Let it Begin

This evening I made a wreath for the front door.  I made it in Sarah's dining room with seven other women, all moms on my block, all glad for a night out, all glad to be creating something, all just glad it seemed like.

I think I will love this wreath a lot. Because it is going to remind me of what I am preparing for this Advent - the Joy of Together.  That God was so desperate for Together that sending the Son was suddenly feasible, even desirable.  What a ludicrous Truth we believe (those of us who believe it, I guess).

This helps shape my plans for celebrating Christmas: we will look for Togetherness Times and be mindful that they are hints of what God's Great Love is about.  I think there's even a Bible verse about this, right? That where two or three or gathered, that's what Jesus is like? I may have self-translated a bit, but I like the idea of it.

But for now, the holidays kick-off with mulled wine and greenery plucked from the backyard and meandering conversations about just about anything and at the end of it all, a wreath on the front door that says, there is Joy in Together! Amen!

People are Morons

So this is no surprise. I, of all people, should not be surprised that people are morons. In fact, if nothing else, it can be said that *I* am a moron. Or at least, have been a moron.  And likely will be again. But right this minute, someone else is being a moron.

And I will say this: anyone who shares this person's world view is also a moron.

The world view is not exclusively hers. In fact, I think there may be a whole movie devoted to it; as I understand it, "The Secret" is actually just her world view in film. Namely being The Law of Attraction.  You know, how you get what you focus on? As she put it, if you focus on the bad things, you'll get more bad things and if you focus on life's blessings, you'll get more blessings.

This is crap theology. Or just crap world view if you don't consider this part of your religious-ness.

It is particularly galling when people share this "law" with people who's current lifeload looks a lot like a bag of shit.  You know, fear of a child's cancer relapse coupled with dead grandma coupled with pending surgery for child who may or may not have cancer again. The idea that all of this shit is landing in their lap because they keep focusing on it is... well, moronic, right?

I don't understand how the Universe works. I truly don't. But I have observed this: some people get way more poop than the rest of us, and some people get way more "blessings" than the rest of us and it doesn't ever equal up in some kind of cosmic fairness.  My faith is that Jesus' presence is equally available to all but I know more than one person who would trade the set of footprints in the sand for some fucking relief.

Not understanding these things though, I still know that it is the height of jerky to suggest to people in the midst that Just Thinking Good Things will somehow divert the shitstorm. That the cancer diagnosis could have been avoided if only they had been more... positive.  That Grandma would have lived (or that her dying would have been less sad?) if only they had focused on life's rich blessings.  Oh my, this makes me angry just typing it.

My only Hope is this: Jesus is watching, living next to us in the middle of the shitstorm and all I can do is remind my heart to rest in that Hope. And remind Jesus to remind my friends in a way that they'll notice that they're not alone.  At least not all the way alone.

How The Spirit Works

Today at church there was a nice little learning about ... I'm not actually sure what Mike thought it was about, but what it was about for me was spiritual maturity and what living with The Spirit looks like.  I guess some of us are supposed to say in The Spirit, but I kind of like the idea that we're together, The Spirit and I. Probably it's flawed theology on my part, but Lord knows I've never let that stop me.

The content was particularly grabbing, following as it did on a friend's writing and wondering about (re)capturing relationship with God and what faith looks like from day to day.  It was gratifying to hear my own heart's hopes about what is True in these things affirmed in my own community of faith. Namely, that The Spirit is already ours, our inheritance in fact, sealed and delivered, and ours is only to live in such a way that maximizes our experience of The Spirit.  The text we read was Ephesians 4:17 - 22, and it was kind of great to remember that the Bible actually offers some helpful direction about what living well looks like.  Good ol' Bible... who wudda guessed?

One thing that we do when we live with The Spirit is hear that Spirit's prompting to love the one next to us, to do and say the thing that reminds our neighbours that the Creator has its eyes on them.  We were asked to think of times in the week just passed (past?) when we had worked with The Spirit to love another, to speak encouragement to another, to give generously to another, to lift up the one next to us.  And of course because I love myself so well, I could think of several times I had been particularly awesome and was willing to share some credit with the Divine.  Truly, I had felt lots of God With Me in the week previous, and truly hope that some of that overflowed through my person so that another near my person got a hint of God With Them too. But you know, coming up with a list of experiences of that experience didn't take long - it's just my confidence in these things always worries me.  But I digress...

...then I looked down. I fingered the new charm hanging on some burgandy wool around my neck.  It had been placed there by sweet Brooke just parts of an hour earlier.  As she gave it to me, she told me that she had seen it and bought it for me, recognizing what she thought has been the theme of my year.  And I wept a bit, because of course it is the theme of my year and I had already been searching for a talisman that I could keep near my heart to remind me of Thankfulness, the antidote to just about every bad thing I know.  And now here it was, out of nowhere, but delivered by the one who has already delivered so much Good News to me already over these last years, an affirmation from the Heavens that indeed I am Known, Loved, Beloved and even failing in the right direction*.

So I turned to my heart's friend and said pointing to my new necklace, "This was The Spirit with you this week."  Cause really, truly, that is how The Spirit works.  I just know it.

*If it's not already, "failing in the right direction" should be a trademarked phrase defining a life of faith from the good Dr. Paddy Ducklow.

Back In The Saddle

Last night was Pad Thai at Pearson International in Toronto.  I ate it reading Real Simple magazine in Terminal 1, waiting for my flight home to board.

I am now home after six days of visiting and rest and I truly do feel renewed. I wrote in my journal (long-hand!) on the way home, that it felt like back-to-school or whatever other time of life that happens when you find yourself inspired and willing to Start New.  I wrote a list of things I could do that would be new and would remind me that I could have fresh starts every once in a while.

And this morning, I tried a few.  I didn't turn on any noise, no radio or TV, all morning.  I didn't check my email or facebook until breakfast was over and cleaned up, and when I was done, I turned the computer off. I took the kids outside, even though they didn't want to and had the happy pleasure of bumping into a neighbour who invited us in for play and coffee.  I made lunch and cleaned up before I made space for writing here and talking on the phone with a friend.

Oddly enough, it felt all new.  I paid closer attention to my children.  I did the small things that keep our house in order(ish) and keep me from feeling discontent and un-grateful in this home. It was kind of nice.

I know myself well enough to know that all the Start New-ness of today won't linger for much longer but that it existed beyond the idea of it is a gift today.  Truly a gift.  Again.

A Visit is as Good as a Rest

I am day two of three with my sweet friend Heidi. At this very moment, her house is peaceful and quiet, all her people and her own self out and about for the morning. I am sitting in her living room with a few of the acres of green that were her growing up view and play place.  Now she and Mark live in her growing up house and their own kids are doing their own growing up in the rooms and spaces that were hers.  It is so lovely this sun-shiney morning, and I am so thankful to be here to experience it first-hand.

This sojourn from home into the lands of my Other Loves has been so rich and deep and troubling and restful and blessing-full and I'm just not sure what to do with it all.  But it has reminded me how required it is to Be With each other.  I have obviously managed to stay connected with that First Family of mine and with the Pfisterers and with Mark & Heidi.  The telephone and email and facebook and even the occasional piece of real mail allow for that. 

But those things don't allow for the... I don't know what it is.  But whatever it is, it isn't missed until I'm living with it again and I realize that it had been missing, was needed. I don't mean that I need to be living with them. I don't, and of course the world doesn't allow for us to live with or near every person we love. But making a way to be with each other from time to time makes a way for us to love each other, to know each other and to feel known by the other in a way that is soul-feeding and good.

I am out of words about this, but I have wept more than once this week with the Truth of it all.  And of course, in the corner of my heart, the whisper that affirms and says "Of course. That's why I came to Be With You.  Emmanuel.  That's what loving each other looks like."

Last Night for a While

Dinner tonight was penne and chicken in brandy sauce.  Laurie made it.  For me.  Because she knew it was my favourite meal with the Pfisterer Family.  It felt like a blessing or a benediction, if those aren’t the same thing.  An undeserved grace.

Visiting New Jersey is tricky.  I’m not sure how I could have left better, but I also know that my leaving was a bit... abrupt and hurtful maybe.  Coming back here means remembering my own capacity to do damage.  It also means remembering some of the very best moments of my life.

Tonight after dinner with Laurie and John and Heidi and Johnny, I went bowling with the boy and Shannon and Jeff and his daughter and we had a good time.  But mostly me and my Point Street family.  We were the funniest, and the funnest and it was so sweet and good to be together and remember that we were the three of us good gifts to each other.

Now I’ve just Skyped with Scott and the kids and I feel again the not-rightness of having all this space between me and my sweet ones, and know that being with them required not being here and every once in the while, I have to remember that that wasn’t free. 

There’s more to say but not even I can say it all.

All Kinds of Pain

Tonight dinner was in Oaklyn. A stone's thow from Camden, my old hometown. There is a lot to say about that and I'm not quite sure when I'll make space to say it. Dinner was with Shannon & Jeff, Shiaheem and Saniyah and of course, the dogs.  The was some full-circling happening and much loveliness, but all of it tinted with a hint of bleakness.

Again, I'll have to say more later.

Now, to bed, full of good dinner and good friends.

A.

Hello, My Name is A, and I'm Nosy

The man in 17C is a sex addict. Pain pills and assorted other chemical dependencies too, if his spreadsheet is to be believed.  From 19D, I could only read the column “Effect of My Behaviour on Others”, but it was plenty informative.

This passenger had earlier grabbed all of attention when the flight had boarded and he was the last man standing, speaking loudly on his phone (which was perhaps on speaker – I was glad to know his contact was looking forward to seeing him too) and then shouting down the aisle to his partner Gretch as the plane taxied to the runway.

I’m not sure what of this particular misbehaviour left me unsurprised to discover his... issues, but surprised I was not.  In fairness, I suppose he could have been reviewing a document sent to him from a friend or family member for his review.  But something about his demeanour left a person like me pretty confident that indeed he was so troubled, and indeed he hoped someone nearby would take note.

I was tempted to catch up in Terminal 1 and remind him about boundaries, but the irony of doing such a thing amused even me and I held myself back.

The public domain is an amusing place.  Glad to be here.

Dinner tonight was pasta with a deliciously cayenne mushroom and pepperoni pasta sauce accompanied by a fine winter ale.  A visit with Shannon always means good eats.

Hysterical

Dinner was steak and quinoa and roasted vegetables and green beans and amazing skor meringue dessert. It was at my parents' house with our other family there too, all potlucky and delicious.

We are sleeping over before I fly away early tomorrow morning and my beloved spend the week with Daddy-O who will pick them up in the morning after work.

Grandma is trying to comfort her grand-daughter who is beside herself because I woke her up when I went in to get pyjamas.

This makes me feel like a terrible mother.

Should be a great trip.

Not Bad for a Five

As happy as my birthdays so often are, the day that follows is almost invariably equally bland. Obviously, the world not stopping to celebrate me is disappointing. And of course, the day after the 4th is the 5th and what good can come on the 5th?

But today was fine.  Not too much bleak, not too much turmoil.  That Nate is ailing and napped on my person for almost two hours helped make it slow and easy. Ish.  That Talia was with Grandma for Grandma Friday made it quieter and less demanding.

Sadly though, it was a day that required a bit more... zip? There were tasks to be done, items to be crossed off the list.  So it wasn't the day I wanted, but I'm willing to believe that it might have been the day I needed. Or at least that my son needed and I suppose that part of this mothering gig is conceding to their GFAs* more often than not. And maybe there's some zen in agreeing that what my children need is in fact what my own soul needs.

Huh.

I'm not convinced.

Dinner was sushi out, cause that's what I needed damn it.

*GFA: if you don't remember the facebook status update, stands for Gaw-damned F*c&ing Agenda.

Numberology

I have a thing about numbers.  Scott calls it a "mental disorder".  I call it a quirk.  Maybe some low-grade OCD. Maybe just a real bendy mind.  Hard to say.  But how it works out is that I have strong feelings for and against every number in the number-bet.  They are completely subjective, Out Of Nowhere, gut reactions and have no basis in fact, or truth or anything measurable and helpful.  I do not pretend they should be trusted or believed or even shared.  I do insist that they be respected.

I blame my father.

Part of the story of my birth is that my mother laboured for a full day, through lunch and dinner and into the dark of night.  I was taking my time I guess, perhaps because I was so enormous (Denise deserves a prize), and finally an intervention was required to hasten my arrival.  As the story goes, as midnight approached, Dr. Thomas said to my father, "So do you want the 4th or the 5th?"

Who knows how these things work, but all I know is that I was born at 11:55pm that night and have had a deep disdain for fives ever since.  So much so, that if you ask Scott and my midwife Irene about Nate's birth, they'll both tell you he could have been born about 3 hours earlier.  At one point, Irene even said (insert lovely Scottish accent here) "You're not letting him come Ali!" I don't remember wanting to extend labour but it is undeniable that he was born just a couple of hours into the 16th, a nice square of 4, not the 15th, a dumb multiple of 5.

The number 37 is a great number.  Nice and prime, no fives (or multiples thereof) nearby to wreck it.  A seven is lovely, and threes are kind of neutral - nothing offensive at all about it.  I actually have lots of good anticipation about 37.

Today, Scott is working and the kids are sick. There will be a steak and caesar salad for dinner and maybe crazy cake and wine for dessert if I get my act together this afternoon.  If not, just Halloween candy and water.

Peer Pressure

According to Nadia, while the men of the world grow mustaches this November, the women of the world are blogging every day.  Well, maybe not exclusively the women, and probably not all of them.  But all the cool ones are, and if all the cool ones are, then like the lemming I am, I will too.

Now, it should be pointed out that I am already starting out a failure, having missed yesterday. However, someone on Facebook quoted someone famous who said something smart like, "I haven't failed yet. I've just ..." Oh wait. I just looked it up and it doesn't apply. But the point is, I'm going to be okay with an imperfect start because of course, I subscribe to the theory that one ought to start as one intends to go on (some of you may remember this).

A difficulty with committing to daily blogging is coming up with daily thoughts.  So my plan is to write down at the very least, what we had for dinner.  If I can come up with more, all the better, but I only committed to daily, not interesting, so ... there.

Tonight's dinner with my two ailing children (T: cold, N: croop) and their long-suffering father was tortellini and sauce.

Expect big things tomorrow.  Deep thoughts about a wonderfully prime number: 37.

I'm Passionate!

This one's for Brooke. And maybe for anyone else who can relate, but for sure Brooke.

One thing that's true about me is that I don't have any passions. Well, none of the Find Your True Self kind. It's true, I am a bit easily excited by a hockey game and frankly, just about any sporting event. I have been known to really enjoy a good book, and knit consistently for a month or two.  But there is no activity, no endeavour that holds my heart, that gives me life, that makes me want to get up in the morning, that inspires me to give up The Good Wife on Tuesday nights in its pursuit.  The idea of 'finding your passion' has always amused me - I don't think I actually have the Passion Gene. 

However, it is also true that I didn't use to think I had endorphins.  Then one day, someone told me that the rush you get public speaking, when you're making your best point and you know it's Good and True and Right - that feeling is an endorphin.  I know. I was shocked too.  But also gratified because I know for certain I've never had that experience doing any kind of excercise but have for shizzle had it at the front of a church or leading a small group or at public meetings. It turns out, I gots me some endorphins!

Knowing that I had been wrong about endorphins then, I opened myself to the possibility of one day discovering a passion, but wasn't holding my breath.

This morning, I got to begin the Alison's Birthday Celebration Extravaganza with a coffee and lunch date with one third of SCS, Laura. Halfway through lunch, while going on and on about myself as I'm wont to do (it's Laura's fault - she's always acting so interested!), I found myself answering a question about what I like to speak about with this: "Well, you know, it tends to be about whatever it is I'm figuring out. I mean, I guess I'm just passionate about me."

Oh shit. I'm still laughing.  There was a moment of silence and we both laughed and Laura realized she too is Passionate About Me (in her case, her).  And it was so great because it's so wonderfully true - Me is a subject I'll wake up to think about, investigate, do something for.  Me is a reason to get up in the morning and get up and go.  I will even give up The Good Wife for Me.

Finally, a passion.  Friends, this could change everything.