Category — Life

Apparently my friend Sarah and I are SFU Alumni’s poster children for “Kick Starting Your Career Into Overdrive.” It’s a bit ironic considering the fact that I am on a voluntary maternity leave and she is currently galavanting across Europe. Check out the header that made its way to our inboxes: Ha ha!

Life is brimming. 

This past month I had a big birthday and celebrated for a week. First, with a couple of my longest, dearest friends at Raw Canvas where, instead of receiving gifts, I entered into an afternoon of creating a reminder of friendship I can keep for all time. Steph was the daring first to dress the canvas with paint. Then Megan dove in. Then Marisa. Then me. We found a palette, together.

We sipped tea and ate cake and shared hummus. One of us got attacked by a paint gun, all of us dove in to help. Luckily it was acrylic and therefore washable. (Steph you are a silver-haired trooper.) I will cherish this afternoon (and the painting below) for years to come.

Then, the weekend of my actual birthday, Michael, Madeleine and I (and auntie Steph, for the ferry ride!) hopped the smokin’ EARLY ferry (and lucky too! that was the day of the record winds and ferry cancellations) to Victoria. First, we were able to attend the Good Friday service at St. Luke’s where the minister who married us is the rector. (See Madeleine’s first meeting Rvd. Parker below.) 

We spent three luxurious (as luxurious as they can be with a 7-month-old) at the English Inn Resort where they upgraded us from a garden facing room in the main mansion to a two bedroom, two floor town house on the sprawling heritage property. The building out our window was thatched. THATCHED. Crazy.

We spent lazy hours walking through downtown. I even got to spend some time on my own perusing Lower Johnson — the fashion hub of the city. I snagged a sweet chocolate, black and white polkadot dress and a grey knit hat. Michael had his time in the bookstores. We indulged in a private, breathtaking meal at the Rosedale - lamb shank melting off the bone. And Michael spoiled me with thoughtful, thoughtful gifts: a journal from Paper-ya, “Granville Island crack” (aka caramel chocolate brittle) and Bowen Island’s Cocoa West Signature Hot Chocolate from Edible BC, and a beautiful handmade ceramic tile we’d eyed in Vancouver a couple of weeks before. Perfection.

The next weekend some more girlfriends took me out for dinner at Sandbar and topped off the fun with a sparkling cake from Cupcakes (thank you Sara and co!)

The same weekend marked Madeleine’s baptism at our little church: St. Alban’s. Dressed in the Dutch lace gown I wore at my own baptism, she was wonderfully happy as the service took its course. It was a profound morning as the water was sprinkled, symbolizing her joining the family of God. So many of our family and friends were able to attend which was an immense blessing. Thank you to everyone who came. I was able to find time to hand-make little momentos of the day with a type-written thank you from Madeleine and Luke 18:15-17 which reads:

“But Jesus called them to Him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”  

In between all of this, Michael’s parents were in town to take in my sister-in-law Brittany’s grad fashion show. Her technical motorcycle line, Velocity, was amazing, as was the whole show. Michael’s mom also surprised me with a birthday night out at the ballet — Ballet’s BC’s big comeback show, Re/Naissance, which included of-the-moment choreographer Chrystal Pite’s stunning 24. 

Last weekend was the last one out of town for awhile, and I am glad. We spent the better part of Saturday and Sunday celebrating with my dad and stepmom as they marked their 25th wedding anniversary in Whistler. All of the siblings (all seven plus in-laws) were together for what may be the last time for years. One sister is engaged to an Australian (Yay Lynn!) and the other lives south of the border (Las Vegas, baby) and they’re both pursuing permanent residency. The family is spreading its wings… it’s sad but also very exciting as everyone chases love and their dreams.

Cousins Reuben and Jesse Fin with Madeleine

It makes me feel better about our big life plans. Toronto is very much on the table for us. It’s not something I’ve been talking a lot about because, honestly, it makes me extremely sad to consider life away from my family. At the same time, I can see glimpses from time to time of the kind of life and the kind of marriage Michael and I could have in a new place. There is possibility surrounding a huge step like that and it will require a depth of love and trust that I don’t think has been demanded of us yet. This excites me. More on that later.

This has been a whirlwind post, I will leave you with two final shots of Ms. Madeleine.

Have a wonderful day, friends.

Earlier this year I made an important decision. I signed up for a Mother’s Unfolding circle at Pomegranate Midwifery.

For six weeks ten of us newbies gathered around to talk about everything but children. While the three-month-olds gathered at our feet, nursed in our laps and flapped on the floor, we discussed marriage, bodies, careers, sex. Nothing was left off the table. We loved our group so much that most of us decided to keep meeting. So, every Friday at noon I gather with an actress, a pianist, a writer, a hair stylist and a grad student to talk about life plus one. It’s a time we all tremendously cherish.

Last week I had the privelege of hosting the ladies in our little home. Here are a couple of shots of the babes playing on the lovely quilt our neighbour crafted for Madeleine. 

The first shot was adorable:

Then we put a very tired Madeleine in the mix:

Oh dear.

There is nothing like the gentle licks of morning ferry deck, leafing through piles and piles of musty old titles, perusing handmade labels, worshipping in a quiet nave, and savouring the company of loved ones. This is how we’re spending our Easter (and my 30th birthday.) How are you spending yours? Easter, I mean.

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.