Home is asking to be wrapped. Rooms wait ready to spill out door, into arms of strangers, onto trucks, into cardboard, buried in storage, carted on boat. Too many bins and boxes for my little head: what to keep, what to store, what to sell, what to bring to Bowen, what to ship out east, what to give to family, what, where, how, when…

But I know life sits out of hand. In arms a billion star courses wide. And I take her hand, now one-year-old, and walk our path to smiling eyes. Sit in her chair at our coffee house. Visit our park, swing our swings, dip in our wading pool, visit our friends, roll all over green carpet thick, laid out under our trees, eat sushi where they remember our alaska rolls and our names.

Soon, together three, we will light new paths, grieve old ones, sit huddled in front of burning hearth, welcome friends at ferry dock and feed hungry mouths, rest weary heads in our island home. We hear the Voice who’s laid out our mornings, years, seeking Face that tells our story. These six months will set a course, I can feel it.

There is much ahead. Family to forge. Words to write. Poetry to spill. Schooling to ingest. Home to make.

I met a friend while visiting in-laws last week who told me her story. Of her travels to Romania, working with Gypsies, igniting a call to international law. She’s running toward it. This relit my heart to study more: media’s impact on democracy — how our incessant ingesting of information shapes our understanding of citizenship. Perhaps a Masters in Toronto, time and prayer will tell.

Much is afoot in my little writerly life. The book, the one about women who seek Jesus but don’t all look like suburban mammas, edgy, world-changing gals who rock tats, paint up storms, influence politics here and overseas, is out as a proposal… seeking an agent / publisher. I’ll post some pages so you can see. Poetry is being submitted, I’ll share as it makes its way onto pages. I hope to start having others share their poetry here. I’ve been inspired by my friend Emily’s imperfect prose Thursdays.

My sister-in-law, Brittany, and I have a crazy idea of starting a little onesie company, using my husband’s adorable old Scouting badges: Badge of Honour onesies on Etsy. We’re setting up shop as I type.

For now we take the days as they come, living them full, here in our home in Burnaby… Thank you for sharing this adventure with us.

A dream fulfilled.

Here’s what we’re in for…

Visit, Anyone?

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

I’ve been a bit silent about our planned moves on this space, mostly because I’ve been in the midst of wrapping my own head around it. It feels like the ground beneath our feet is shifting but, surprisingly, I feel unafraid.

I am typing this post from Toronto. We arrived on Friday after a perfect travel day with Madeleine. I was even able to watch an entire movie (Date Night — awesome) while she slept in my arms on the plane. We’re here for ten days for Michael’s work and to explore neighbourhoods. It’s become increasingly clear that Michael needs to be here for work as he is the sole member of his work team in Vancouver. His role has given him a lot of flexibility, even allowing him to work from home the majority of the time and this has been a huge blessing, but the time has come to make the shift east as things transition within his company.

I have lived in Vancouver all my life, save for three months in Queenstown, New Zealand in 1998 and in Toronto three months last year. The West Coast is my home. It pains me to leave. The ocean is my lifeblood. I adore the green, the mountains, rainforest, the islands. I relish being close to my parents, most of my siblings and my grandparents. I love Main Street, Gastown, Granville Island and Commercial. I adore the girls at our neighbourhood coffee shop who greet Madeleine and I with shrieks and giggles and discounted coffee every morning. I love play dates with my mom friends: Wendy and Claire, my Mother’s Unfolding gals. I love Jenn, Megan, Marisa, Avital, Steph, Hoda, Mathew… and all of my dear friends in my beautiful hometown. Yet change calls and I know in my heart it’s the right thing. 

Being here has given me even more hope. We explored Queen West, hippy-dippy Harbord and the Ossington neighbourhoods yesterday. We enjoyed brunch with Amanda and Dean at a lovely french bistro near St. Lawrence Market this afternoon. Afterwards Madeleine and I rummaged through the outdoor market befriending sunny Toronto smiles. It’s a lovely city. There’s much in store for us here.

Linux Caffe, Harbord Street, Toronto

But I know moving downtown will be a huge transition, not as difficult as leaving our family and friends, but nearly. So, though our condo went on the market over a week ago, we’re not moving to Toronto until next spring. After spending three months here last year, I refuse to make the move at the peak of ice-winter. I want to move to the city when the buds are brimming. So to pass the time we’re going to live on Bowen Island from October to March, after our house sells.   

It’s Michael’s gift to me. Before moving our family to the downtown bustle of Canada’s largest city I am desperate for a quiet retreat — a small season for us to nest as a family in a remote, wooded retreat.

Bowen Island

The house we’ll be renting on Bowen is more than I could have hoped for. It has four bedrooms plus den, a huge open concept main floor, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, an upstairs bathroom complete with a jacuzzi and skylight, and an unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. Good friends of ours live just down the drive and kayaks beckon for a morning turn on the shore below. 

I can hardly wait to begin the next leg of our adventure…

We took to our favourite island last weekend for an overnight stay.

We arrived a little tired:

But were quickly whisked down to the promontory to read poetry at sunset:

The next morning we rose to a big breakfast of eggs, coffee, sausages and hashbrowns to sustain us for a couple hours’ kayak:

And then we were glad. 

Softly now, you’re breaking my heart…

Grafton Bay, Bowen Island, last Friday evening 

Michael and I have stolen away to Bowen Island to house-sit for a couple of weeks.

Our friends, the Cowpers, are away in Africa — first landing in Swaziland to tour Bulembu (an incredible self-sustaining community founded by Vancouver’s Volker Wagner, and led, in large part, by our good friend Jamie Woller. We just had the opportunity to visit with Jamie over a few days, at the To Change the World Emerging Leaders Summit, presented by Cardus, in Ottawa.) Then the Cowpers travel to South Africa and, finally Namibia.

People ask us why we’re here on the island, (it’s definitely not convenient.) But really nothing can capture our sentiments other than experience (right, Avital? right, Jenn?)

Waking to waves washing up on the shoreline, staring through forested hills as I wile away at the computer, ending our days by candlelight — well, those are a few of the reasons, for sure.

Here’s the view from dinner Monday night:

Do you see what I mean? ;)

Also, as a writer, I find new places and experiences inspiring. Travel, for me, is renewing. These experiences give new breadth to my work, spurring ideas, poems, articles, that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. For some, this is hard to understand, but for me, it is a way of life.

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Tomorrow I will post a Bowen poem. They’ve been spilling out since we arrived Sunday. The first of many, I hope.