Category — Photography

In honour of our sweet Madeleine’s first birthday, the Regional Assembly of Text is hosting their monthly letter writing party.

While the letter-writers are tip-tapping away, us and our sweet bean will be enjoying a family picnic in Queen’s Park, where Madeleine will bite her eight pearly whites into her first bit of cake.

I can’t believe she has been with us an entire year. She is our joy and delight — and this feeling, this enormous swell of abandonment, just grows and grows.

I made her a crown.

Thank you, Jesus, for the best year of our life. For her, our greatest gift.

….

In honour of my friend Julia(-the-Chemist)’s wedding her beloved Bryan(-the-Geographer) this afternoon, I’d like to share a quote about marriage. Congratulations to the beautiful couple!

“If two stand shoulder to shoulder against the gods,
Happy together, the gods themselves are helpless
Against them while they stand so.”

- Maxwell Anderson

A dream fulfilled.

Here’s what we’re in for…

Visit, Anyone?

Now we need our house to sell… please lift up a prayer.

Here are a smattering of our summer so far. 

Playing with neighbour Mia at our favourite park.

Helping daddy barbecue on the patio. Sort of. 

Vegas Trip… the three sisters unite!

Me with my lovely 20-week pregnant sister Kristen (who lives there) and my inspiring, world-traveling sister Lynn (who moves to Australia this week and is marrying her Aussie sweetheart next spring)

I gambled a whopping $1 while waiting for our show (Cirque du Soliel’s Ka) to start

Fourth of July party in a gated community with these cute kiddies. Madeleine has little boy crushes. She just loved this guy, and the puppy.

Miss Madeleine discovered Nickelodeon TV. 

Hanging with uncle PJ - the soon-to-be-papa. 

Madeleine and her dolla-dolla bill.

The Bellagio lobby. Everything you see is made of individual flower blossoms.

Auntie Lynnie and Madeleine.

Bellagio lobby. All individual stained glass bowls on the ceiling. 

Paris Hotel and Casino.

Patiently waiting, way past her bedtime, to watch the Bellagio fountain show. 

Baby got free reign on the toilet paper in our hotel room. Toddler heaven.

Ready for the pool.

Green Valley Resort.

View on Vanier Beach this week — en route to the Bard on the Beach tents for a sweet date night. Much Ado About Nothing is brilliantly cast this year!

Playing on Grandma and Grandpa’s lawn at the goodbye dinner for my brother Matt (moving to Calgary) and sister Lynn. We dined on the spectacular 62-pound halibut my dad caught in the Queen Charlotte’s last week. 

Playing with cousin Reuben. Lady loves lego.

Ambling with Uncle James and Aunt Jocelyn - who are expecting a baby next month. Groot baby city. 

Relaxing on Bowen Island with daddy. I think we found our dream house for this winter.

Godfather Matthew catching a snooze on the patio. This’ll be our view soon. 

Family day in Horseshoe Bay. That rhymed. Trolls for dinner. Mmmm…

Meeting my niece two days ago. Her name is forthcoming… Congratulations Michael and Heidi!!

Gorgeous mama and baby.

Proud papa Mike (holding his one-day-old,) watching the Holland v Spain final. 

Madeleine lamenting Holland’s loss. 

Happy Summer one and all!

how to make the words come when they sit idle, close behind ear yet far. how to line phrases when the world spins by over and over. how to sit with journal in lap quiet with dishes rising, dust claiming its residency. how to stay content with five good words on an average mama day. how to bask in first words from eight-toothed mouth: mama, dadadadada, hi. how to keep my spirit still when it begs to run anxious down apartment hall. how to rest in future plans when all seems ebb of mist. how to be anxious for nothing. how to see mouth filled, white and black keys played, mastery of slide, dinner plated, life as it should be, no more. how to sit with toddling one and know the world full.

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty, so ancient and so new, late have I loved you. For behold you were within me, and I outside; and I sought you outside and in my unloveliness fell upon those lovely things which you have made. You were with me, and I was not with you. I was kept from you by those things, yet had they not been in you, they would not have been at all. You called and cried to me to break open my deafness and you sent forth your beams and you shone upon me and chased away my blindness…”

- St. Augustine, City of God

::::

These words open chapter 43 of Mary Karr’s Lit, which I highly recommend. Thanks to Alissa for tipping me off.

So, yesterday I lopped it all off. 

In Gastown with Mama.

Relaxing in the grass, waiting for our friends Wendy and Claire. 

Getting her stand on at Waterfront Station.

Staring down Darian.

Doing her best Kiss impression. 

Eating random stuff off the pavement. 

Chillaxin at home.

She’s a busy lady.

Bowen Island, May 2010

Two of the great griefs of my life surround a love and church. It’s no surprise really, being that they’re two of the great investments offered us. Over five years a staggering amount of loss overtook, what I had considered, a mountainous faith. Chip by chip the magnanimity I once lived with came to a thunderous fall. I’ve been making my way back, slowly, since then. Through prayer. Writing. Counseling. Conversations. Hitting my head against the wall. Catching glimpses of light. There’s only so much you can do. 

That’s why two consecutive days, a couple of weeks ago, so much caught me by surprise and stumbled me over into a stream of forgotten grace. Questions I’ve been asking for years were answered on the spot.

It began on a Thursday. 

A friend from Ontario and his girlfriend came over to have coffee in the morning, then Madeleine and I stepped out of the house to have lunch with an old friend in Stamp’s Landing. Hugs, smiles and laughter were exchanged as he was introduced to our little girl for the first time. I sat back and basked in his recounting of the past year — new girlfriend, good job, church investment — taking note of his words:

“I’m happy. [Pause] It’s a weighty happiness. There’s a weight to it.”

As our meals arrived, (mine, a bed of spinach topped with candied salmon, and his, a prime rib burger,) he invited us to prayer. A beautiful, accomplished, to-the-nines man praying at waterfront hotspot, aloud. 

“Thank you God for friends, and for new life. Bless this meal…”

Bless. Bless. Bless.

Two broken people. A boy. A girl. A rambunctious toddler between. And hope spilling everywhere. You see, around the same time this friend and I found ourselves in a desert place in our hearts. Tired. Confused. Hurting. Deeply guilt-ridden. Longing. Here he is in a new place, with a fresh, beautiful posture of peace. Surrounded by friends, forging new faith in similar terrain — in a church not unlike the one in his old city. He didn’t give up. He hasn’t. And the spirit of God is blessing his open heart.

Bless. Bless. Bless.

There may have only been a crack but it was all He needed. You can see the joy in my friend’s eyes. Peace. Not striving. Contentment with hope. Dreams for the future. Promise. This is what a God-man looks like.

I am reminded: the church is beautiful.

I leave aflourish.

The same afternoon I spend an hour with half of an inspiring couple of artists training in Vancouver to return to Germany to establish a community arts centre in an old brick factory once used by Nazis during WWII. Light bursting out of the dark and broken. Their synergy is palpable. Their centre, obvious: Christ their hope, beginner and finisher of their faith.

Yes, I am reminded: the mission is beautiful. 

I come home and kiss my husband. Yes. We will see with the same light. 

Yes, marriage is beautiful.

Bless. Bless. Bless. 

Finally, the next day. I decide early to spend the afternoon in Sapperton, New Westminster. I go to meet my girlfriend who’s the new manager at the local java watering hole — Starbucks. We visit. Then I walk. Only to return to share a coffee with my mom. Halfway through our visit a woman with a daughter similarly aged to Madeleine walks in. My mom recognizes her/befriends her. Names and hugs were exchanged. 

This person is a tie to my past. Unbeknownst to my mom who continues the conversation for close to fifteen minutes. This is the girl I’d want to hate. The end. The one. The chapter-ender. A love torn like vellum, scattered on icy winds near Larch Street with no resolve, and ended in her arms. 

As her butter words spilled out, all jealousy, all fear, fled like a sparrow. My heart melted in an instant. 

“Yes, I’d like to meet your daughter. Yes, motherhood is the greatest experience in the world.” Yes. Yes. 

Bless. Bless. Bless.

I wanted to wrap her in my arms. Wanted to stroll away, our babies quietly bundled, and talk with her until the words ran out. I hoped the joy in my eyes made its way home in her arms. To him.

Yes, I am reminded: love is beautiful.

I am lying on wings. I am unwrapped. I am ready. 

Yes.

::::

I thank Brad Roberts for my new theme song — And It’s Beautiful — from Crash Test Dummies’ new album, OOoh, La La, released this week.