Category — Life

Her fingers wrap around mine like a chord. Limbs darting up to tug at my linen, cotton billows, reaching out to declare: “You are mine.” Tenacious, yet layered with a heart like cream, Madeleine steals frames from faces in an instant. Translucent glass beads scattered about the floor save her from topples as she devours them with her finger folds. Snowy flesh. She is sitting better and better every day. At dawn each morning Daddy awakes to spend sleepy hours with her while I try and catch up from night waking. Enfolding one another in the day’s first light. This is our love.

Here in the Terminal City the Olympics have arrived, the sun is making a rare February appearance, and Vancouverites are uncharacteristically Canada-clad. It’s a lovely scene.

So far, thanks to my brother in Whistler, I’ve been able to attend the final dress rehearsal of the Opening Ceremonies which at times reminded me of Cirque du Soliel and left me similarly jaw-dropped. If you watched it, I’m referring to orcas taking breaths through the floor of BC Place. From our vantage point in the nose-bleeds, it was breathtaking. Nelly Furtado and Sarah MacLachlan weren’t too shabby either. 

I’ve been donning my cherry red Olympic mittens with pride as Madeleine and I galavant through Metro Vancouver, and my red Roots hoodie has been getting its share of wear. Oh Canada. 

I’ve only watched a bit of the actual Games because we live in a cable-free home. On my mom’s t.v. I saw Canada pummel Norway in hockey (sorry Hunny,) at our neighbourhood coffee shop I witnessed the Dutch kick-ass in speed skating, and while I got my haircut at a friend’s house yesterday morning, I took in some curling. What I’d really like to see is some big air. 

Last week I spent the better part of a morning with the Billy Graham Rapid Response Team, interviewing them for a piece for Decision. No, they weren’t called in in the wake of disaster (although the first few days of the Games had its share of it.) Instead they are in town to serve with the More than Gold, a Christian umbrella organization, as community chaplains and hospitality volunteers. You know, serving hot chocolate and all that. They were a great bunch, the oldest of which was a spry seventy years. I met them at the base of Canada Place (aka the International Media Centre,) steps away from the Olympic torch, which also happens to be my little sister’s place of work. So, her and I met up.   

Thursday is my big Olympic Day. I am going to bundle Madeleine up in her adorable blue and white sweater (the most Olympic-looking item in her ‘closet,’) comb through downtown and buy her a Quatchi bear. 

Vive les Jeux Olympiques!

His name is Remi, we are having a love affair, and my spouse knows about it. 

He is a Remington Portable. A archetypal typewriter manufactured in the mid-1930s. His ruddy grey body sits squarely in the centre of my coffee table, the focal point of our living room. And rightly so. As a writer married to a bibliophile, words are central in our home.  

And now more than ever. As new mother I have never been so keenly aware of language. Word by word I am naming my daughter’s world. Raffi songs are sung by heart, daily chores are narrated, and tastes, colours, sights and sounds are animated for her sheer delight.

My daughter teaches me each day that, when it comes to words, it is all about the delivery. For instance, plainly announcing “We are going for a walk” receives no more than a glance, while sing-songing the same line results in a mess of wild baby giggles.

Typewriters have a similar effect on me.

It doesn’t matter what words fall into Remi, he makes them beautiful. It’s this beauty, and the love of sending and receiving letters, that inspired my friend Marisa and I to co-found the Vancouver Letter Writing Party last fall. Each month a growing number of us gather for no other reason than to type. Letters are written, brimming with minutiae, and they are beautiful.

These words want to be read. They are climbing up, off of the paper, begging to be stamped, sealed and sent.  

When was the last time you wrote a letter — typewritten or otherwise?

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This post originally appeared on the After Hours blog. 

This past Saturday I spent the loveliest of afternoons in my hometown of New Westminster. Julia (the Chemist) hosted us in her home for our monthly letter writing party. 7 writers and 4 typewriters turned up at her charming apartment in the heritage neighbourhood of Queen’s Park. (View more pictures on the Letter Writing Party blog.)

While New Westminster has its sore spots, it is also a small city with immense charm. The Quay which once anchored the city is going through a complete renovation and will soon be reopened as the new River Market, nestled on the shores of the mighty Fraser. A handful of new condos have already sprung up in and around the downtown core, the construction of a new civic centre is underway, and the City recently purchased 10 acres of property which will soon become additional waterfront parkland. With all of this afoot, the River Market is simply the icing on top… but they need our help! 

If you live in or around New Westminster (or ever plan to visit) please sign your name to the campaign to secure an amazing local grocer at the soon-to-be-opened Market. Let’s call it the Granville Island of the east. ;)

Here’s their appeal:

“We are charging full steam ahead for grand re-opening this summer! We need you to get involved. We are in the final stage of discussion with a prospective anchor grocer. We can’t tell you who yet because of the ongoing negotiations. But, we can tell you it’s a local independent grocer dedicated to the freshest produce, organic foods, and specialty items. At affordable prices. They are super responsive to customer needs and make every effort to source your favourite products. Many of you named this grocer as a favourite during 30 Days of Quay Ideas last year. 

We’d like to show this grocer that there is much love and support for a vibrant food market in our community. To do so, in the next 30 days, we’d like to get 3000 signatures for a letter of support to be forwarded to the grocer. It’s also an opportunity for you to let the grocer know your requests and wishes.”

To add your name to the 3,000 signatures in 30 days campaign, click here. It takes two seconds, promise.

English countryside 2009

I’ve been thinking a lot in the middle of the night, in between the sheets of waking baby…

I have been thinking a great deal about life as story.

Each of our lives follows a narrative arc. Much of life can feel like one-offs. Like ‘why did THAT happen?’ But our lives are telling a story.

Take Jesus for example. Jesus was born as a baby. A little, fragile, pooping baby. He grew up in the family home, the family trade. He was a normal kid (except, of course, he was God.) He went to the temple in his teenage years and wowed the religious folk with his incredible knowledge of Scripture and inordinate wisdom. He did other stuff, but it probably all seemed random. He built a table with his dad, Joseph. He talked with his mom, Mary. He visited the neighbours. He went fishing. And then, when he was in his 30s, he started doing this crazy stuff like calling people to follow him. His ministry began. He healed people, cast out demons, taught a new kind of way — a way where all are equal under God, a way where compassion and love (not religiosity) win, a way where the weak are strong, the first last, the poor rich. And we all know the great ending…

Jesus’ life has an arc, a story line, and it still continues…

So will ours. 

I often look back at my life thus far and scratch my head. Why did that happen? Why did I date him? Why did that relationship end?  How come that career trajectory came to a sudden end?  Why’d I get involved in politics? Why’d I work for a Christian ministry? 

I look ahead and the question marks continue to lay like dominos. Where am I going? How will this all end up? Will I ever end up writing for audiences bigger than this blog, bigger than small periodicals? Will my voice matter? Will I have an impact on people’s lives, bigger than my immediate circle of family and friends?Will I be a good mother, wife, friend? Will I ever make something of myself in public life?

I am beginning to connect the dots, the positive dots. The good things that have happened. The steps I’ve taken. The path of rocks God has laid across the pond of my life. There is an arc to my story. There is a plan, there is a point, I am going somewhere.

Yes we are. We all are.

A couple of sneaky sneakers (namely, my dear friend Aurora and the hubby) arranged for me to get a facial at Vida Spa this morning. I thought I was going to hit up the lovely Christmassy stalls at Granville Island, sip JJ Bean java, and peruse Paper-Ya (and we did, afterward.) But instead, Ms. Aurora carted me on a convoluted route through downtown, arriving at the Wall Centre Hotel to meet another friend, the inimitable Sara! — for a delectable hour of pampering. Bliss. 

The day was made complete with the purchase of Julie Morstad’s ABC flash cards which I’ve been eyeing for years (Madeleine’s first Christmas was the perfect excuse!)

as well as…

A family outing to the library where Michael cleaned out the Soups, Thai and Indian cooking section and I brought home John Carey’s “What Good are the Arts?” 

And, finally, a dinner of pesto linguine and avocado-topped greens. 

A delightful day, indeed.

I’ve found my Christmas crafting inspiration! Ornaments! Thank you, Anthropologie.

I’ve decided to give my typewriter a place of prominence in our home: on our coffee table. Part aesthetic and part practicality, I think it is a lovely statement of the centrality of words in our world. Many more letters will be written this way, I think. 

A side note about our home: We are moving. But not far. We are selling our condo but are staying the neighbourhood. We have worked so hard to make this area feel like home. We are falling in love with our new little church, we run into more neighbours each day, and we’ve developed a rhythm here in our little neck of the woods. Speaking of woods, we will be living closer to the ravine where Madeleine and I take our daily walks!

Stay tuned about the details of our new digs…

Madeleine wakes with a stumble of pure joy. All squeals and wild giggles. Face ablaze with laughter, peering through whispers of moonlight. A toothless flurry of smiles, all for me. Mama, I see you…

I hear of newborn babies sleeping through the night and for a moment my mind flickers with jealousy, but the picture of my daughter’s saucer eyes eclipses the emotion. My heart crests. A gentle ache. Darling, I see you…

It’s our moment. This 3 AM love.

The UN announced yesterday that talks towards a new global climate deal — set to wrap this December in Copenhagen — are now in serious jeopardy. Realistically, they said, only a massive show of public support over the next few weeks can sway the outcome, showing our leaders “they have their populations behind them” for bold political action.

Could it happen? Just maybe. This summer we were approached by a remarkable coalition within the climate movement, now representing more than 200 leading NGOs including Greenpeace, Avaaz, OXFAM and Christian Aid. Together we designed a global campaign called TckTckTck tailored for just this purpose — showing our leaders that “the world is ready”.

You can check out the TckTckTck.org campaign here — and all the action leading up to Copenhagen.

Since we launched the site in August it’s grown like wildfire. Today we surpassed an incredible 2 MILLION PEOPLE ready to lobby as Copenhagen nears — and this could be our best chance at influencing a deal.

What explains the massive response? The urgency of the issue? The simplicity of the ask? The theory of change and outreach? Yes. But more than anything, it’s about Tck’s powerful model of online organizing. It’s about well-established groups setting aside their brands and egos to collaborate openly for the movement — focused on giving people a powerful platform to impact an issue they care about. That’s promising stuff indeed.

Again, you can check out the TckTckTck.org site here. 

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From the good people at Biro Creative.