bewildered by grace

I likely won't have another moment to blog before Christmas, and will upload some pictures after that. Becky's post really got me thinking today. Peter's grandmother is very sick. She's in the ICU in Wyoming, and will be there through Christmas, which is difficult on their family. If you've met her, even for a few minutes (she was at our wedding) you'll know what an incredible woman she is. In a nutshell, she was a sweet little rich girl, that much to the chagrin of her father, ran away with a missionary boy, and raised five children in India. This woman defines brave to me, and will tell you stories about their life there that would make you sit dumbfounded, in shock that this tiny little woman has seen and been through so much. Please, if you think of it, pray for her, and Peter's family. We need Grandma around a little longer. We were planning to get her in front of a video camera with some tea, sometime very soon, and ask her to just talk. Tell us about India, about Grandpa (who has been gone for 20 years now). Tell us about falling in love, about having a baby in a strange country. Tell us about Grandpa killing the man eating tiger and saving your village and your family (this did actually happen - told you she was special). I need to hear her stories, I need to have my children hear them one day.

I saw some dumb movie once, a long time ago, and though I don't remember the plot at all, I remember one scene, with such clarity:
A family has just lost their entire livelihood. The family business has burned to the ground in a freak fire. They were struggling before, now they're pretty much destitute. As they sit among the rubble together, the single mom puts her arms around her kids and smiles a real smile of true relief and joy, and says, "It's okay. As long as we're all still here and together, it's just been a bad day."

Sometimes I forget that. It's just been a few bad days, and when you look at some times over this last year, not even that. I don't have to deal with a loved one dying days before Christmas. My husband is healthy and happy and we have an incredible relationship that amazes me sometimes. There's a silly song that I love that says, "I'm short on money, but I'm long on time / Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine." That's where we're at. We're okay, we've got a little money, and more debt, but we're young, and we all have each other. My baby sister is a single mom, and has been through a lot of rough times, but all I have to do is look at that baby boy, and the way she is with him, to know that she's going to be okay. You should see little Luke light up when he sees his mom, and the way she does too. It's beautiful and very often makes me tear up with the sheer delight of watching them together. I have good friends, and may get to see an old friend for New Years, that I haven't seen in five years. Life is good. It's really, really good.

So that's it. I hope that all you in Saskatchewan have a wonderful time this Christmas. Eat too much, laugh too much. Play a good game of Balderdash, and please someone keep and blog the best answers (I'm thinking Becky would maybe be sentimental enough to do this?) Help do the dishes afterward, a lot of great conversation happens in the kitchen after a big meal. Enjoy each other and don't think about money, or obligations or being a grown up. Let your kids eat too many sweets, and eat some yourself. For the love of all that is good, please don't diet, wait til January. For all of you who I'm not going to see, and haven't seen in so long, I miss you. Someone remember to give Grandma and Grandpa a big hug from me. Take a lot of pictures, as will I, and we'll see you after the holidays!
Love you all - melanie.

I thought perhaps, since Robyn is no longer blogging, that some of you may like to see some pictures of Lucas, or "baby lu" as we all call him. Sometimes, I can't believe how much I love this little boy. He's happy all the time, even though he's teething. He laughs and lights up when he sees you. It's so neat that he's getting old enough to recognize people he knows. When I walked up to them in the mall he was looking around at everything, but when he saw me, he knew who I was and his face broke out into his little squinty-eyed grin and he reached for me. What a little angel, and what a little goofball. Sorry that some of these are blurry, we had to use Peter's phone for them as our real camera was too far away and we didn't want to miss it.

Today Peter was sent home early due to the rapidly deteriorating weather. My mom picked me up at the house today at about 11:45 and we went to WalMart, got a couple of things, and then went to the food court and had a quick lunch. When we walked into WalMart, it was raining with a little hail thrown in for good measure. When we finished lunch, about 45 minutes later, the entire parking lot was covered in snow. The streets were already filled with slush. It happened so quickly it was almost eerie. So my mom threw in the towel on shopping, opting instead for getting home while the roads are still safe, and I called Peter and told him that I'd rather he get here sooner than later. He was home by 2:00 and work tomorrow is looking pretty iffy from where we are.

Now, I know all you Saskatchewan toughies will call us wimps, but there is a very strange difference in the weather here. First, the snow is just different. In Alberta, you're taught that if you're spinning out, to lead your tires to snow, snow they can grip, ice they cannot. Not so here. This snow is so dense and wet from the humidity it's just no use. Also, -10 here feels different than -10 in Alberta. This is a wet cold that seeps straight into your bones and makes it always feel 5-10 degrees colder than it is. So I know it's not as bad, but it sure isn't nice either. Plus, Vancouver Island is simply not prepared for weather like this. We have nearly no snowplows, which is why school closes when it snows 3 inches. Busses refuse to drive in it and the amount of snowplows (snowploughs?) make it so that the back roads simply never get done. There aren't any people to salt the roads. On our last big dump of snow, we actually saw that the city of Victoria had hired constuction companies or anyone with a dump truck to work salting roads. They loaded up with salt and then drove 10 feet along the road, stopped, got out and into the bucket of the truck, grabbed a spade and threw salt on the road, climbed back into the truck, drove another 10 feet...Why a spade, you ask? Because the regular shovels that Canadian Tire keeps in stock sell out about three minutes after the snow starts falling. All five of them, gone in a flash. Window scrapers are the same, you just can't buy one anywhere.

Worst of all, and the main reason why, when I see five snowflakes, I want all my family off the roads, in their houses and safe: drivers. Nobody in BC has the slightest clue what to do with snow. They drive like total idiots. They don't think, when trying to pull into traffic, "hey, because it's snowing, I need a bigger space between cars than I used to, since nobody can slam on their brakes when I cut them off". It doesn't occur to these people. Of course, most of them are over 85 and shouldn't be driving in good weather, let alone this...

However, today, I'm glad for the snow. I'm loving it. We've been hit with storm after storm here, and trees are trashing power lines all over. Poor Reagan and Carlie have been out of power for three days, and will not see it on again before the weekend, I'm sure. They're sleeping at my mom and dad's.

But in my little house, we have power, we have a very steep hill that is impossible to climb in a Civic when the weather gets like this. I went grocery shopping yesterday, my Christmas shopping is done. I have no reason to go anywhere. My family is safe, though crowded, in their house. Robyn and Baby Lu are safe, though bored, in their apartment up the street. My husband is home safe, our car is parked. We're officially snowed in together. I have dinner marinating in the fridge, and I'm going to light some candles. I'm going to keep my fireplace on and wrap up in a blanket with my gorgeous husband and just call it a day. No where to go, and the perfect excuse to do nothing at all. Stay up all night, sleep in all morning, and wait for Christmas.

II also have a new blog. I know, I know, I don't need another one, and it's really annoying that you have to sign up for Vox to comment, but you can post music and videos here much more easily than on Blogger. PLUS it's all Christmas-y. I may switch over completely. I love it. Here's the link.

I'm never going to make it. Really, I'm not...This year, is my most organized to date. I was finished my shopping on December 2nd, and had my tree up and decorated that night. I have made Christmas cookies three times so far, and only burned one batch, though surprisingly, the Pillsbury ones (Peter inhaled them anyway). But now I've been ready for Christmas for ten days already. I really just want to give Peter his gift, and see his face. And to lay in bed on Christmas night with him, playing my new DS (I'm so romantic).

Today I'm hiding out in my mom's office, under the guise of listening for Luke, who is sleeping across the hall. Poor Ethan and Connor are homeless today, since the power is out at their house and has been for two days. So their mom and dad are moving them to their new apartment, and my mom and I are watching them and baby Lu. It's not too bad, but it is a handful, since two of the boys are little and need to be held, changed, fed, put down for naps, picked up from naps, and the other little boy is suffering a little from cabin fever. Can't say I blame him. I'm beginning to think that Carolyn and every other stay at home mom should get super hero suits and have parades thrown for them every Tuesday.

In completely unrelated news, I have put a hole in our new Civic. Crap-O. I had a small accident in the McDonalds parking lot with the town prostitute (true story). She was on the wrong side of the "road" and I was coming up an exit and I hit her tire. I've never been screamed at like that in my life, we put on quite a show for the seniors. Had I not been so upset, I would have realized right away that she was on something (either crack or meth, I wish it had just been pot...I'd have bought her a burger and we'd have had a good giggle). I put a hole the size of a serving plate in our bumper. Peter says you can "barely notice it" which makes us all laugh. Luckily, there's no structural damage, it's only the bumper and it can be replaced. We have been doing a little research, and because Civic's are one of the most popular cars to turn into street racing cars, we can actually get body kit for it for cheaper than the original bumper at a dealership, so we may do that whenever we can afford it. Peter may actually thank me for this eventually. The next day I was nearly killed by an idiot who ran a red light, and I've never been so terrified on the road before then. Somehow we managed not to hit each other, and he sped off before I could get a plate number. I just pulled over and tried to get my heart to keep beating at a somewhat normal pace. I'm now sure that Grandma drives with more abandon than I do. I make Peter drive most places and am so edgy in the car that he can barely stand it. When I drive, it's in the slow lane, 10 kms under speed limit unless I force myself not to, and if you cut in front of me or do anything I deem mildly unsafe, I honk like there's no tomorrow. Honestly, I need to relax, but the moment I think I'm going to be fine, something happens. Two nights ago, another idiot ran a red light in front of Peter and had he not seen it, that stupid woman on her cell phone would have come into my door at about 50 kms an hour. It's almost eerie lately, maybe God is trying to show me how hard he works to keep me safe all the time, but though I'm becoming deeply thankful every time we arrive home safely, I'm also becoming insanely paranoid. There's a straight-jacket and some Prozac wrapped in pretty paper under the tree for me, I'm sure.

I'll try and get some pictures of my house all Christmas-y up very soon. It has just become very quiet in the house, and I should go see what's wrong and give my poor mom a hand. And maybe spike her coffee with some Bailey's.I'm also going to call town hall and see about getting those Tuesday parades started.

As promised, here's what I'm asking for this year: A Nintendo DS Lite. Call me a four year old, but I went into Future Shop with Peter the other day looking for gift ideas for him, and started playing this baby, and I'm hooked. I need it. I love it. I played the New Super Mario Bros. which I thought was so cool and just like the very first one, none of this 3D crap. I'm a Nintendo lover from the start, and got an N64 last year, which I still play all the time.

Also, I found a dress whilst Christmas shopping today which I love, and hope to get. I want a cable knit sweater. I know I'm getting some type of pyjamas for Christmas Eve (our new tradition) so that'll be great. Books and bath stuff are usually a Christmas staple for me, especially for those people who don't know me as well, they're always a great go-to. Peter, lucky for me, has wonderful taste, and I've never had to be one of those women who end up saying, "Oh, honey...you shouldn't have. Really." I knew a woman who got hiking boots for her first anniversary. For me, good idea. Unfortunately, she was an indoors, "my idea of a vacation involves a five star hotel" kinda gal. So yeah, not too worried about my gifts, and honestly, though it's hokey, I really like giving them better than getting them.

For example, nothing on my Christmas list excites me half as much as what I'm getting for Peter this year. I'm nearly busting at the seams. I may borrow a video camera to tape him while he gets it. I can't say what it is, in case he sees it or someone lets it slip, but I promise to post some good Christmas pictures later.

Also, tomorrow morning I'm heading to my mom's house to bake Christmas cookies with her and Robyn all day, before the boys get back and we all decorate the tree. This paints a much more traditional picture than what will actually transpire. I will inevitably screw up whatever batch of cookies my mom leaves in my care, no matter how easy the recipe, or how closely I follow along. I will end up feeling like less of a proper wife and woman because of this, however will be greatly cheered by Robyn being silly all day and much laughing that always goes on whenever Robyn, Mom and I get together. We'll decorate their tree and eat a few of the good cookies (mine will be thrown out or hidden in the back of the freezer) and I'll get to play with Baby Lu. Should be a good day. Saturday, Peter and I are ambitiously hoping to finish our Christmas shopping, and set up our own tree that night.

I love, I love, I love Christmas.

I'm such a heathen. Really I am: they may not let me into Heaven. I am ashamed to admit publicly here, that few things get me into the Christmas spirit like an eggnog chai latte from Starbucks, in the pretty Christmas paper cups. I don't even get the sleeves for the cup, even though the coffee then burns my hands, because I don't want to cover up the cup and ruin the experience, though the sleeves are really pretty this year (they gave me one without asking - stupid baristas with their customer service crap).
It may be an addiction. Last year, Peter's sister and I, -in a solitary Christmas shopping day- bought three. One when we left town for the trip, one for the walk around the mall, one after dinner for dessert. Peter and I are a little financially tight right now, as it's the end of the month, and I've bought at least three already. And one more because the drive-thru lady was slow in making one (again with the service at that place) so I got a coupon for a free one the other day. I've only known the Christmas drinks were out for a week. I have asked about their Christmas decorations in the store, because I want them. Especially the paper tree with the village cutout. Okay, I've likely lost you now. Laughing at me yet? Just wait, it's worse.
Peter and I were thinking of going to see a movie tonight. Instead, we went and looked around Future Shop for Christmas gift ideas, which of course required the aforementioned latte, and while in the Starbucks I again inquired about how I can get my little heathen paws on their decorations without actually committing some kind of crime, and then... I sacrificed our movie, to buy two of these. (Peter and I have a deal that I have to give something like that up if I want something completely frivolous - we borrowed a dvd from Robyn instead of going to the theatre)

Due to a crazy storm here, the ferries stopped sailing. We couldn't get to Vancouver, thus, couldn't go to the concert. We got our tickets refunded, our hotel room refunded, and are currently sitting at home. I'm so mad, I just don't even want to talk about it. I want much less, someone to ask me tomorrow, "so, how was the concert?" We didn't go. Blast and Wretch.

If you've never heard of the band "Over The Rhine", before now, welcome. I love this band. I love her voice, I love how haunting and beautiful their music is and the way their lyrics reach out and grab you. The first time I ever listened to them was on an 18 hour train ride in India. It was hot, I felt ill, and so so tired. Peter gave me his discman and told me "hey, listen to this, I think you'd really like it". I was transported.
They're a husband and wife team, they're Christians, but they aren't exactly a Christian band, they're a little more outside the lines than that. They play clubs and churches, and write music that anyone can relate to regardless of what they believe. I don't think I'd call them happy music, not something to listen to when you're driving in the sunshine with the windows open. More of a driving through the rain in the dark after a hard day and needing something to validate what you feel as opposed to trying to cheer you up. It's romantic, it's quiet, it's more instrumental than a lot of stuff.
Anyway, at church on Sunday, we saw in the BC Christian Times laying next to the programs, that they were in Vancouver. On Wednesday. I called my mom and dad and told them that going to this concert would be better than anything they could get us for Christmas, we'd die to be able to go. They're playing in a little college chapel for a crowd of 250 if the tickets sell out we called this morning and they'd only sold 180. My wonderful parents, though firmly believing that a Christmas gift in November is a total crap idea, gave this to us as our early Christmas gift. We catch the ferry to Vancouver tomorrow and are going to spend the night, and come back on Thursday.
I'll post pictures when I get back. Until then, check out the link, listen to some music on the little player there. You can skip around if the current song doesn't catch your ear. My favorite may be "Jesus in New Orleans" and it's a good reflection of what they do. They're mildly controversial, but only to the church, though they're both firm believers. There's a few drinking references in their music, and once a cuss word in one song that I was surprised to hear, which is likely why it was there. I don't think this makes them "not a Christian band", since in the course of the day I've had a drink and likely said something I shouldn't. Their music is honest and heartfelt, and I love that about it. And tomorrow night I get to see them live. Thanks mom and dad. Merry Christmas to you, you're the best.
...so while I'm proof-reading this post, the player on the Over The Rhine site played the song "Latter Days" and it may be my new favorite. Nice stuff. Have a listen.

I feel terrible admitting this, but some days, I just want everyone to see things my way. And not on issues of right and wrong, or any moral dillema, or any life question, but in things like, "tonight let's watch Iron Chef and not football highlights, not a one, not even while Iron Chef is on commercials." There is no excuse for this. I feel selfish lately. I am officially the biggest jerk alive. I am this obnoxious girl with her face in the camera (but isn't she cute?!)

Sidenote: my husband occasionally has to put up with a lot. He deals with this very very well, and did watch Iron Chef, a rerun no less, last night, and did the dishes during commercial breaks. I am lucky. Sometimes, I put up with a lot, but you just aren't going to read about that here. He's amazing, and as stated numerous times before, I am LUCKY. Maybe the luckiest girl alive.

Anyway, I work with all men. I live with only a man. Unless my mom comes into town to take me shopping, or Robyn pops over with Luke (as she is about to do momentarily) I sit alone in my house, hoping for an e mail message from work that gives me a task, which doesn't usually arrive due to a complication that I don't fully understand, but is completely normal, don't worry, check back tomorrow.

So lately, I've been feeling very selfish. You'd think, with all this time to myself, I'd have time to sit with my bible and read and become a better person, but I don't seem to. I just seem to be a bit edgy lately, and little things make me tense. I'm not angry, but I'm, well, crap, I'm a girl.

Anyway, I've decided to try and do some selfless things to balance myself out. Last night, I took my well deserving husband, made him a nice dinner, and after watching Lost (don't EVEN get me started) and then alas, Iron Chef, I told him he was going to have a nice relaxing bath. I made it smell all manly. I gave him a facial treatment and a glass of wine. And funnily enough, I felt better afterward. Getting my way doesn't always make me feel as good as I think it will in the moment. As cliche as it is, doing something nice for someone else, always makes me feel good. Every time.

Peter understands this. Last night I wanted to be taken out on the town, though financially right now, that's a dumb decision for us. Peter offered to make sandwiches for us instead. I got over myself and I made us a good dinner, and he cleaned up, and we had a great evening. Thank goodness I married someone who knows when to give me my way, get out of my way, or get in my way and tell me how silly I'm being.

Christianity right now is big on the word "relevance". What does it mean to be relevant? What does it look like practically, and most important, how is that done without compromise? Now, I believe the Bible to be true, that you can't whitewash it so that it makes people more comfortable. Jesus is not my homeboy, he is still Lord. However, as we learned from Becky's blog we do all approach God in different ways. Just because someone isn't a Christian doesn't mean that a desire for a relationship with Christ isn't built into them, the same way it is in me. The difference is, that I can identify that longing, they cannot.

Now, I've been on a few missions trips in my life. I do not know a missions organization that does not believe in something called an "Open Air". If you know that term, or worse, have participated in this, you are cringing already. If you do not, allow me to enlighten you: An Open Air is an evangelical event staged by young people in the most public place they can find. Usually in front of a subway station in Japan, or a mall in the Philippines. It consists of a "relevant" (there's that word again) dance or drama done to the latest Christian hit song, and is meant to get people staring at you in the hopes that when the jazzy little number is finished, people will stick around, read a tract, and get saved. It has worked in the past. The 70's did really well with them. Now, if someone does hang around and is faced with the Truth for the first time in their life, they have the patented response "Well, that's awesome. Good for you, but that's not truth for me." What is a good little dancing Christian to do? Argue apologetics? Who cares anymore? A few people, but not "all the world". Not our world, the western culture we now live in.

I have been amazed though, to see a few things that did work. People who sat down and really thought and prayed about how to reach the world they lived in. Ideas that translated to all the world.

A locally owned business in Kona, Hawaii, made the best shaved ice (never had one? you're seriously missing a joyous moment in life). As seen by the review here, they are always packed, always have a line out the door and into the street. In the corner of this little establishment, was a box with some papers next to it, and a pen. All the box said was simply "Prayer Requests". The business asked for some kids from the YWAM base nearby to come once a week, empty the box, and pray for the requests inside. I got to be on that team. It was incredible. You wouldn't belive the things people asked for prayer for. "My daughter ran away, I miss her, I can't find her, I know she's doing drugs" or " I just found out I have cancer, I don't know how to tell my family". Some had contact info. We called, and chatted, told them we were praying. What does this say to the world? "You don't believe in God? It's okay for now, I do, and I'll ask my Dad this one for you. Why? Because I care about you. Not just about your eternal salvation, but about your life. The crap you're living through." God bless Scandanavian Shaved Ice.

At UC Berkeley, an annual festival is held. I will get numerous facts wrong here, but the main thing is that Berkeley is a proudly Liberal school. The festival every year hosted little student made booths for fortune tellers, tarot card readers, things of a sexually explicit nature, etc etc. The place turns into something like Sodom and Gamorrah for a few days every year. So the few Christians on campus decided to sit down and see if they could make a booth that would appeal to people, and still spread the gospel in some way that would be relevant to these students. They decided on a confessional booth. They dressed like nuns and monks and went all out. It seemed appropriate for the setting, but there was a twist. They festival arrived, and sure enough, the students see the booth, start laughing, and think it's all a big joke. They go in and start confessing to all these terrible things they've been up to during the festival. The monk, or nun, stops them, and says "no, this booth doesn't work like that. I'm confessing to you." The students are stunned. "Confessing what?" they ask curiously, and likely a little drunk. "Well," they say, "what is it about the church that really, really bugs you?" And out come the stories. Molested by a pastor. Written off as a whore because the skirt she wore to church the only time she dared to go, was much too short. One guy had a really hard time with the Crusades. "What was that all about anyway?" And these young Christians confessed and asked forgiveness for it, on behalf of the church. Regardless of the denomination, or how many years had passed since our transgression, they apologized. They asked them to forgive them on behalf of the church, and they told them why it was wrong. How God really must have felt when that pastor used that girl. Did those kids do the crimes? Nope, not a one. They didn't take part in the Crusades, but they apologized for it. And why not? What did it cost them? Better yet, what did it say? "On behalf of a God you mistrust based on a bad experience, or a misunderstanding, I'm sorry you're hurting. I care about the way the church is seen in the world, and I'll do my part to make it up to you, on behalf of a God that I know loves you very much." The students reported amazing things from that confessional. People were healed of old wounds and hurts, they came to Christ, they repented back for doing things to hurt Christianity in general and specifically, they asked questions, they wept, they met God. God bless UC Berkeley.

And today, I found this on Claudia's blog. Some guy is going around giving out free hugs. He just wanted to brighten people's day. No questions asked. So I looked around YouTube, found his story. What a guy. People are literally taking this into all the world. They're giving out free hugs all over the place. Strangers standing around with a sign. And if you watch the clip, people aren't just giving awkward hugs. They're embracing. They're holding each other. They're loving each other as best they know how, in a hard world, where sometimes we all just need a shoulder, a moment when someone embraces us and makes us feel, for just a second, like it's all going to be okay. We're not alone. The clip that really got to me, is that someone took it to Israel. They're giving out hugs in the most war torn spot on the planet, a place that has been in turmoil from within, and assaulted from without more times than any other place in history, throughout all of history. Good for them. I want a hug. God bless Juan Mann.

Some girls I went to YWAM with, instead of doing the normal (if you can call it that) Open Air decided to try something new. They baked cookies all day one day, and then hit the streets of Suva, Fiji the next. They made a sign, "Free Cookies and Prayer". You could walk up, have a cookie and leave. Or, if you needed someone to believe when you couldn't or didn't, you could have someone else approach the God of all creation, and ask for you. No worries. God bless April and Kelsey.

Thanks to Claudia, who made me remember this today with her blog. You really can go into all the world and spread the gospel. You can use words, or you can give someone a hug. You can show them that though the nature and character of God doesn't change, we can emphasize the parts of it that are relevant to the audience we're speaking to. God is the most humble being in the universe, he loves repentance and reconcilliation, he asks us to stand in the gap for others, and believe for them, he asks us to bless others and not expect anything back.

Someone I knew once had spent all this time building a friendship with an unsaved person overseas, in the hopes that his friendship would "open a door". Good call. But the friend asked him one day "If you knew that I would never get saved, would you still be my friend? Would you still care about me?" I hope I would. Because getting them saved isn't my job. God does not command us to lead people to Christ. He commands us to love them.

There is a huge cedar tree near our house with a massive eagle's nest in it. Yesterday, we went for a walk and saw the two that live in the tree circling around in an amazing storm. The wind was up, the water was a beautiful dark navy blue with big whitecaps on it (I'd have taken a picture, but the batteries on the camera died) and the eagles were out. I'm amazed at how high they can fly. Most of the other birds were hiding away, waiting out the storm, but these two just seemed to be having the time of their lives.

I read a book this last week about a Christian couple, married over twenty years who were planning to get divorced. They just couldn't make it work anymore. He was on the brink of an affair, and she was just completely uninterested in his life anymore, except that he didn't pick up his socks, or help with the kids, or try to be affectionate.

A while back, a wonderful Christian couple I knew and respected went through one of the most horrible break-ups I've ever heard of. I thought my parents divorce was bad: not compared to this. I mourned for them, and quickly ran into the bedroom to sound my emotional breakdown off Peter, who was sick in bed, and said, "Honey, we're doomed. One of us is going to cheat, or screw this up, or we'll just stop caring and everything will fall apart. If they can't do it, make their marriage work, nobody can." I was so upset. In a very Peter-like fashion he said to me, "Melanie, do you really think that they just woke up one morning and threw their marriage away? They've likely been throwing their marriage away for years, in a million little ways all the time. We are going to work as hard as we can to avoid the million little ways to damage a marriage, and we'll never have to worry about the huge issues. We're going to concentrate really hard on the little things, figure out what they are, talk about them, and avoid them at any and all costs. And no, we're not doomed, we're going to make it. Promise."

The couple in my book was a lesson to me in all the little things you can do to hurt your relationship with your spouse in a million little ways. He forgot a few times to say how much he appreciated her for the little things until he stopped completely. He was a football coach, and she stopped coming to his games because it was too much to fit into her busy schedule. They lost each other, one small decision at a time. They couldn't figure out how they'd arrived where they were, and both thought it was the fault of their spouse and then became so proud and angry that they couldn't even have a conversation. Finally, mere days before they were about to sign the divorce papers, he found a report his son had written about Eagles, and through it, God changed his heart and showed him his part in the trouble they were in. He repented to his wife, and in doing so, softened her heart, and they sought God together and he did a miracle in their lives. Yeah I know, mushy cheesy Christian novel. But here's what I found out...

Did you know that the Eagle, who is often seen as one of the proudest birds, is actually very humble, in a bird-like way. They only eat what is nutritious to them, not like Seagulls, or other birds who eat almost anything. If they happen to eat something that is bad for them, they fly to the highest rock they can find, and they lay themselves on it "spread eagle" and wait until the sun is able to soak the poison from their system. They don't move until they're well again. They're also the only birds that actually realize that flying in storms strengthens them. Like we saw yesterday, they do not hide from storms like other birds; they use them, knowing that storms are valuable in the strength that fighting them provides.

Here's the most amazing thing of all: When selecting a mate, a female Eagle will fly as high as she possibly can and turn herself on her back and free fall straight for the ground. The male Eagle then flies above her, dives to reach her and grabs her talons with his. Then he pulls with all his might, trying to save her from certain death. Moments before they hit the ground, if he's hung on to the point that she knows he would actually die for her, she pulls up. At the last possible second, they both soar upwards, circle each other in a kind of dance, and from that point on, they are mated for life.

What an amazing picture of how we are supposed to love each other. The female lets the male fight for her, though the free fall goes against every natural instinct she has. The male latches on to the female until he proves to her that he would literally die for her. Once this is firmly established, only then are the joined for life. For all my married friends and family, and for me, I pray that God gives us time with our spouses, a moment away from all the busyness to concentrate on each other. I pray he gives us wisdom in seeing the little things a long way off, so that big things never arise to separate us. I pray that God really will bless us in all that we do together, and protect our families. I'm constantly amazed at the very little divorce in our family. Grandma and Grandpa raised some pretty incredible kids and have set such an example for us. Somehow, in looking at them, I'm sure that Peter and I are going to make it, and carry on a legacy of commitment and love and honoring others to our kids the same way Grandma and Grandpa passed it to my mom, who passed it to me. What an amazing thing to have outlive you, the knowledge to future generations that you loved your spouse with everything you had, and that God was faithful to you, and will be faithful to them also, "showing love to a thousand generations of those who fear Him".

I know, I know, it's been two weeks since I've been "home again" and no post till now. Sorry (Trav). I don't like posting until I have pictures, and I couldn't take pictures until I unpacked, and I couldn't unpack until... you get the picture (he he he). Settle in for a long one folks. Grab a coffee. No, really. Got it?
The trip here was terrible, I'm not even going to go into it, if you want to know, call my mom, she'll give you the rundown, and in much more descriptive language as well. We did get here though, with a lot of help from God, and a few downright miracles, and are settled in and in love with our new place. It took a little while for us to want to touch anything in here, it's all so new and nice, it was a lot to get used to at first. We got over it though.


This is the view from the ferry at the end of a very long two days. A lot about moving here has been harder than I ever expected it would be, but at the same time, we've had little hints from God that this is where we're supposed to be, and that it's all going to be okay.


This is me sitting in front of the TV with a dumb look on my face. But it does show the fireplace, which looks awesome with our big picture hanging above it. We're actually getting a living room area rug from my parents when they move, that's the same colors as the painting, so I think it should all look great together.


Our bedroom. It's so big, and the ceilings are all vaulted, so it all feels even bigger. They did a darker laminate in this room than is in the living area, and it matches our bed perfectly. It's weird how much of our stuff looks great in this place. Everyone says it's like we've always lived there. It's like we designed it. I really wouldn't change anything about it. It's perfect.
This is at the foot of our bed, just because we needed something to fill up the space, and I've wanted a place to show off my cool lamp that I got for my wedding and finally have it. We kind of like red if you hadn't noticed. If you look at the tall lamp in the background you can kind of get a feel for how big the ceilings are.


Dining room table. This is kind of behind the couch, which is a little strange but seems to work fine. The back of the couch kind of splits the room. I recently destroyed the top of our beautiful table by trying to refinish it, so it's covered with a curtain that I had. Apparently the table is not actual wood. Note to self: Never try to strip, sand, stain or seal a table that is not actually wood. Note to table makers: Could you kindly let us know on the bottom of a table, the material used to make said table? Had I known it was laminate, I may have held off on my ambitious project. Note to Kmart: Nice curtain. Makes a great tablecloth.


One day, I will again have to cook on an electic stove. On that day, I will begin eating out every meal of the week. When making a cup of tea, I actually can't figure out if it's faster to microwave the water, or boil it. Water boils in about three minutes on this stove. And I don't have to pay the gas bill. And I can clean it in about a minute and a half. I could live in a refrigerator box with this stove and be happy.


This is the best spot in the house. I open the patio door behind it, curl up in a blanket and turn on the fireplace and read. You can actually hear the ocean from our patio and I can't wait for a good stormy day where all I have to do is sit there and listen to the rain. I'm sure we'll get a few this winter.


Okay, could my box house include this washer too? This picture is taken standing by my fridge, and when the washing machine is running, you really have to strain to hear it. It's almost silent. It's also "environmentaly conscious" so to do a full load of laundry, it uses about four cups of water and about two tablespoons of detergent. My clothes come out beautifully clean and I don't feel bad about wasting water, or detergent which is so expensive. The toilet and dishwasher are the same. They're all highly efficient and use as little water and as possible. I love doing laundry here. I really do.


This is also a permanent part of the house, though she may stop dropping by if she sees that I posted this picture. Robyn lives about a ten minute walk away from us, and comes over all the time to bring me diet coke in exchange for whatever leftovers may be in the fridge. It's a good system, and she brings Luke along, and occasionally her laundry and it's great having her nearby, and to be able to spend time with her and "baby lou".


Luke and Peter get along famously. They watch TV together, or Peter shows him sports stats online and they hang out and make me want to get pregnant. We think Luke is so fascinated with Peter because Peter has facial hair. Usually Peter picks him up and Luke puts his hands of Peter's face, rubs it and makes these funny cooing noises. It's hillarious.


It doesn't seem to matter what Peter is doing, Luke is enthralled. It's so cute to watch them together. This day, though you can't see it, their shirts were actually the same material. It's actually really weird how much Luke looks like Peter.


I love this picture of me and Luke. My dad's got a better one, but I can't believe that somehow I lived five months without seeing sweet little Luke. I miss him if Robyn doesn't bring him by for two days. I'm really happy to be home. Sorry for the insane length of this blog, if you're still reading. Hope you liked the pictures. More later.

I'll give you two guesses which I like more. The mom thing is very overwhelming, and I have nothing but respect for women who do it full time. Can't wait to be one...or maybe I can.
I've been babysitting my niece Naomi three times a week and have been having a blast, but like most four year olds, like most people actually, she had an off day a while back and was being rather naughty. Now, her mom counts to three when she's being bad, and usually gets the proper response at about "two and a half". I've done the counting thing with her, and again, usually works. Thank God, because I don't know what to do at "three" but a week ago I found out. I was telling her to do something and got zero response, other than a totally straight face and some blinking which I took to mean utter defiance. It was time to test how far "Auntie Mellie" could be pushed. The day had to come sometime I guess. So after "one", "two", "c'mon Naomi, time to listen please...please?" my fears came to pass. I spanked her. Rather wimpily (word? not a word?). I tried not to be scared, tried not to show that I did not want to do this at all. Tried to keep a straight face. I thought I did a pretty good job even though the swat itself lacked force, or heart... Dead serious, she looks up at me with these big brown eyes and says in the tone of a snotty 13 year old girl, "My mom gives better spankings than you do" and proceeds to do exactly what I asked. Had I not felt so insecure about my discipline abilities already, I'd have laughed my face off. Later the next time I babysat, when her mom showed up, Naomi tells her "Mom, I was a little bit naughty for auntie Mellie today". Then I laughed my face off.
She came over again yesterday and we got some great pictures, she was a total angel all day, and we had a blast with her. Looks like the spanking incident didn't harm our relationship much.
Me and Naomi playing in the tree.
Naomi and Peter making grass whistles. Actually, only Peter, since Naomi just put the grass to her mouth and tried to scream in a whistle-like manner. They were so cute playing together I took a million pictures, and told Peter we needed to start having our own kids, soon. He He He.
Naomi and Peter playing "Pirates". She was in a tree, and when Peter the Pirate tried to get to her, then she would kick him out of the tree and giggle like crazy when he fell out.
Peter, finally defeated, and exhausted.
Just gorgeous. There are few people in the world that Naomi loves as much as her "Uncle Petey". Can't say I blame her.

You know that feeling when something makes you so angry but half of the reason you're really mad is that you're trying not to cry about it, since deep down you know it's not as big a deal as you're making it? If you're a guy, I've likely lost you by now, so don't worry about it. What do you call that feeling? I'm not furious, I'm not depressed, but I'm a bit of both. The half that's angry is angry mostly because I'm so sad about this, and the half that's sad is sad that something like this could actually make me angry. I remember in the counselling course I took, whenever you felt something extreme over something little, you had to chart it, and to do that you had to accurately name exactly how you felt. They gave you a huge long sheet of feeling words to help you. This feeling wasn't on there.
Here's what happened. For our wedding as a gift from some people who couldn't be there, we got a gift certificate to this hotel, for one night, and a dinner in the hotel. Well, next week, we have to go right to where the hotel is, for a wedding. Most people are tenting it, but ask any woman how she gets ready for a wedding in a tent and she'll look at you as though you're either stupid, or mean for trying to play a cruel trick on her. We were going to use our certificate. We've also been living with Peter's parents for over two weeks, and I've gone from having about 950 square feet of personal space, to a bedrooms worth. I'm a big girl, I'm adapting, I'm fine - for crying out loud, I lived in YWAM for two years where the absolute most personal space I had was a bed and a dresser. The floor around my bed? Fair game. Occasionally I would find someone on my bed. I lived, and it was the best time of my life. But oh, how I was looking forward to two nights in a hotel with just Peter and a romantic dinner alone.
We called to book today, and they're full. I'm tenting it. For a wedding. In the middle of September in most northern part of Minnesota. I'm feeling that feeling that I can't describe. Part of me is so mad that we didn't just book earlier, that we needed more info from others before we could do that, I hate everyone staying in that hotel for those two nights. We know the people that own the hotel so we're going to try calling them, giving them our cell number and begging them to call us if there's a cancellation. We'll see but I'm not getting my hopes up. I will look like a shaggy freezing idiot meeting a lot of Peter's extended family. Fan-freaking-tastic.
Just for added spite, here's some pictures of the hotel. I'm going to go cry for ten minutes, and then, as my mother says, put on my big-girl panties and deal with it. Blast and Wretch.

You have to see this site, especially if you've ever been to Asia, or ever tried to understand an Asian speaking English, while politely nodding and not getting a word. Most of it is from Japan, and it's just hillarious the way people have managed to misunderstand the English language. Cut them a little slack, they say it's the hardest language to learn. One quick thing you should know is that in Japanese, a letter L, D, or R are all kind of interchangable. They don't say L very well at all, for example a Japanese person can't say my name, they call me Meranie (may'-ra-nee). They can't say the word rural at all, it's horrible to make them try (hey, I can barely say it). Anyway, here's some pictures to make you laugh, and another gloriously funny way to kill some time at work, at home, whatever. I laughed my butt off (nope, not that lucky, I just checked, still there), but I did just spend the last hour killing myself laughing, and think you might too.
The site is www.engrish.com





I love this last one, I couldn't stop laughing... brilliant. I love Japan.

So this is the second of these I did. The first one, Peter only scored 50, so perhaps it was a little too difficult. I was trying to make it easier on people than Becky's, but it occurred to me that perhaps I just don't know Becky as well as I'd like, and perhaps I should meet her for coffee, and buy her a taco.
If you score less than 30, you have an instant coffee invitation from me.

Take the quiz

As previously stated, I can't keep a secret. We found a place to live, it's an absolute miracle! I'm more excited than I can possibly state, and if you look at pictures of our old apartment, as seen on my other blog, you'll see why, when you compare it with this.
So in looking for places around Nanaimo, rent is fairly reasonable, about the same as here actually, which is amazing, since BC is just such a nicer place to live. For example, Robyn's apartment is about the same in rent as ours was, and hers is WAY nicer, so in the end, renting in Nanaimo is a really good deal, except that utilities are much more expensive in Canada than the US, for some reason. We weren't loving the idea of an apartment again, but what can you do, if you get a basement suite, everything is so so loud, and it's kind of personal you know? Shared entrance, shared laundry...etc.
Somehow, we found the perfect place. Not somehow, God. I can't explain it. Literally everything we wanted we found for a VERY reasonable price. There's a beautiful neighborhood in North Nanaimo (right where we wanted to live) that we used to drive around and look at all the pretty ocean view houses. Well, one of those exact houses has a basement suite that they just finished. The people built the house from the ground up, and they made a (get this) soundproof walk-out basement suite. Here - take a look!! I can't believe how happy and excited I am. I feel like a little girl at Christmas, getting the Barbie Dream House! I feel like Barbie in her dream house!!
So you walk from the driveway down some steps, and this is the front outside of our place. The patio is all ours, and there's a gas hookup for a bbq that comes included, so we don't have to buy that, or pay for it. They've even offered to give us nice wooden patio furniture. The windows on the left are to our living room/kitchen area, and on the right, is our bedroom. On the right of the patio door, though you can't see it, is another big door, with a glass window. Why all the glass?
This is the view from our little patio. Their deck is above ours, so this one is all ours, and covered from the rain which I like a lot. I can't get over the view. After living for a year in a place with no mountains, water, or even trees, this is incredible!!! They're still landscaping the yard, but who cares? We're moments away from a very nice private beach.
This is the view from where I would stand to do dishes, except that I have a new dishwasher! I've been doing all our dishes by hand for a year, and this is a huge plus for me. Something about appliances make me happy. They're so clean, and they keep things organized and clean things that are dirty, and they just appeal to that hyper-organized side of me. We also have a little fireplace, that I don't have to worry about using (for fear of the bills) because my utilities are all included!
This is looking from the front door into the living room and kitchen. I love the floors, and the matching cabinets. The ceilings are 9 feet, so you don't feel at all, like you're in a basement. The first door on the left of the fridge is my pantry, the other door, leads to the other half of the basement which we don't use.
This is the (left to right) guest room, bathroom, and the master bedroom. I could gaze at the beauty of that washer and dryer for days. They're so pretty. Why am I so weird? Is there a program for people who are this addicted to cleanliness? I'm going to have to stop myself from doing laundry all the time, or wiping water spots from the stainless steel inside the washer and dryer.
This is the inside of the guest bedroom. They're going to leave the furniture in there for us, cause we don't have an extra bed and stuff. The mattress is of course, top of the line (these people are very well off). All the appliances too (I can't stop talking about them!!) are also the best they could get. Gas stove. I can't wait to cook!! So if you come to stay, this is where you can sleep! All visitors welcome! Yippee!
This is the bathroom. Weird shot, I know, but I love the cabinets! The vanity lights and fixtures are all nice too, and the tub is nice and deep. My tub in my last apartment held about 8 inches of water.
And this is my bedroom. I can't believe I get to live here, in just one month!!! I'm more excited than I've been in a very long time. I'm so thankful to God that he led us to this place, and these wonderful people. They were going to rent to someone else for the first of this month, and make more money, but then they decided they'd rather have us live there! They both seem like really lovely people, and have been super nice. We asked about hooking up a few extra sports channels so we could watch the NFL games, and pay them the difference in the cable bill (cable comes with the place included in the rent) and they offered to upgrade their cable for us, at their cost. These people are amazing. God is amazing.
This is also our bedroom, you can't see it, but the middle line there is actually a little shelf. I want to put my little recliner in this corner so I can have my quiet times looking over the ocean.
And the view from our bedroom. They e mailed us to ask us about what kind of blinds or drapes we'd like for them to get before we get there. Crazy. I can't believe how nice these people are.
This is Peter's favorite part, so far. The guy's hooked up sound in the master bedroom, the living room, and out on the patio. All you need to do is hook it up when you get there, and you have music in any room of your house. Before I saw pictures of a bedroom, or the bathroom, I got this one:
Praise God for being so good to us, for finding us the perfect place to live, exactly what we wanted, and so much more. Even funny little things I've said or thought lately, like "I'd love to cook on a gas stove, instead of electric, they're so nice" are in this house. I've dreamed of the day when I don't have to save my quarters and run down two flights of stairs for my laundry, and then worry about other people touching it, or finding someone's pet's hair on my clothing when I take it out of the dryer. (EWW!) I've wanted my own washer and dryer for a long time. I can't believe how blessed I am, and how cool it is that God is actually concerned with little things like that. I even said I would love to have white appliances (my last were almond colored, which is better than avacado but they look so much cleaner white). And it all fits our budget too, so we don't have to worry about that. Thanks Daddy, for answering my prayers, and blessing me so much!!