bewildered by grace

Lovin' Taco Pete

8.10.2006 9:59 AM 11 2009 Melanie 9 comments

Doesn't everyone? These are his two sisters and me, in Hawaii. Gosh my butt was big then, but ooh, my tan. I miss the tan. Ahem, anyway. Peter had this roommate at this time, who was a funny guy, but always said on Friday night, "Awesome! It's Weekend Pete! I love Weekend Pete!" As do I. Peter would let his sisters fro his hair, and we'd all go to Denny's and complain that just because this Denny's sat up on a hill with an amazing ocean view, was no reason they could charge $11 for chicken strips. We'd all get fries and cokes and laugh. When my best buddy Lindsay was in Hawaii doing her DTS, we all just had the best time.

This is my caffine addicted darling. This is the way to my man's heart. Cooking is nice, but he'd rather eat olives and crackers and cheese, much to my chagrin. However, pick up a latte for him on the way home, and I can have anything I want. A cool coffee mug, or a flavor syrup for his espresso machine will have the same effect.

Peter has a variety of nicknames. Taco Pete is one that his sister Shelly and I gave him, thanks to his running us to Taco Bell for late night taco cravings. Though he doesn't like being called Pete very much, he does let me, on occasion. He doesn't really look like a Pete though. I'm not allowed to call him sickly sweet sounding names like "sweetheart" or "pookie" (umm...eww?), or stuff like that. I'm allowed to call him "babe "or "baby" or "honey" and that's all. There was this couple on TV last night that called each other "monkey" which I though was totally weird. It's usually just "babe". Does every couple eventually have this conversation? "So, umm, what do we call each other. Are you okay with being called this?"

I love that Peter is a guy's guy. We've decided to label him a "rugged metrosexual", which I think suits him well. For those who are older than 35, a metrosexual is a term for a guy who is concerned about his appearance to the point of nearly appearing gay, but yet are actually quite straight. Just very well dressed, and taken care of. Essentially, a metrosexual is someone who washes their hair more than once a week. He's also really freaking smart. He has a knack for remembering names and places, and will sit and look at a road atlas forever, memorizing distances between places, and populations of most major cities. He's a walking tour guide, a history buff (his dad has degrees in Classical Humanities, or Greek and Roman History, and his Master's in Education, so Peter comes by it honestly I suppose), a jack of all trades, and master of most. He knows sports stats that completely confuse me, on everything from tennis, to football, and baseball. One day I'm going to make him go on Jeapordy and make some money off him.

Ahh, my two favorite guys. Loren has been my very good friend for ages now, 8 years I think, and regardless of our age difference (14 years) we've always gotten along really well. He's like a big brother to me, even though there were rumors of us being together for quite some time. Possibly spawned, or at least spurred, by Loren just being mischevious and holding my hand when we'd randomly run into someone we know. It was always funny to us that people would put us together. When Peter was about to meet Loren for the first time, he asked me what he was like, and I was shocked when I realized, "Well, he's a lot like you." I always said if I could find a guy like Loren who I could feel romantically about, I'd marry him and live happily ever after. Cross your fingers, Loren may actually come visit us next week, which we'd love. He and Peter get along great.

This is where the "rugged" part of "rugged metrosexual" comes in. No girl wants a guy that's prettier than she is. (Careful Shawn). I love that Peter likes to climb trees and mountains and get dirty and be outside. I am significantly worried that our boys will be just like him, and I'm going to have to learn to be very easy going:
"Gabriel Willam Morel,(what we're naming our little boy) tell me, WHAT is that strange creature in our bathtub?"
"It's a ferret, or a weasel, or...something. I'm going to catch mice to feed it. Do you think it will eat mice?"
"Darling, I'm very sorry, but you will NOT keep a weasel or ferret or any living creature in the bathtub. And you may not feed it mice. You need to let it go, and pick it up with a blanket or something, I don't want you getting rabies, if I have to take you to the hospital that will be the third time this month. If your dad goes to take a shower and sees that thing in there, he's going to flip out, and then you'll have to stay inside like normal kids and watch tv during the day, instead of playing ouside".
"But MOOOM, dad said it would be cool! We've tried to give him bugs but they kept crawling away out of the tub. Even the really big ones! Dad thought mice would be better, he's looking for some now. Do you have some cheese we could use?"
"Gabe, could you ask your father to come here please, and preferably without any strange creatures in his tow?"
Yep, this is going to be my life, a few short years from now. I'm going to need a bigger coffee cup.

This was just a little while ago in Jackson Hole. The first time I took Peter to Victoria, there's this big stuffed bear on Government Street. I wanted to take a picture of him hugging it, but then I didn't want to stand there and hug it myself. We had this huge hillarious yelling match on the street, causing people to stare as we yelled "Hug the BEAR!!" and me, "NO, stop yelling at me, people are looking". Peter ended up with this hillarious picture of me standing next to the bear with my head on it's shoulder looking very defeated. Now whenever we see a large stuffed creature, a hugging picture is a must, to avoid another argument.
Oh, the fun I have with this man. He cracks me up all the time, whether it's because he gets mad playing Phase10 and freaks out at Carlie (very funny), or I come in and he's dancing in the living room in a pair of my jeans, and threating to "just go check the mail, I'll be right back." The other day, while I was chatting with his mom, he snuck downstairs and had Shelly straighten his hair. He came back looking just like Kid Rock and tried to make out with me, which scared me to death. He's shameless, and serious, and silly and smart. He's talented and passionate about life and God, and sings like an angel. I know I say this a lot, but, ahh, what a guy. I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Next time you see him, ask him to do his radio voice, you'll laugh until you cry.

Delicious Peace

8.03.2006 11:09 AM 11 2009 Melanie 5 comments

This is a cool site that I found that provides the best of two issues I am very passionate about: good coffee, and being a good and loving human being no matter to whom, and if they deserve it. And in that order, because until I've had my coffee, I'm not at all a good and loving person.
Here's and blurb from the article:

Brewing "Peace" Among Jewish, Muslim, and Christian Coffee Farmers
At times, a really inspiring project arises that offers an opportunity to weave together the most important threads of social justice and religious acceptance. Mirembe Kawomera "Delicious Peace" Coffee is such a project. The coffee comes from the Fair Trade Certified™ Peace Kawomera Cooperative in Eastern Uganda, formed in 2004 as a strong interfaith alliance of 558 Jewish, Christian, and Muslim coffee farmers. The co-op produces high quality Arabica coffee, and is sold as "Mirembe Kawomera 'Delicious Peace' Coffee" by Thanksgiving Coffee Co., which has established a close partnership with the co-op.
The farmers and their communities made a conscious commitment in 2004 to work together across religious lines for the benefit of all, and to demonstrate that peace among religions is possible. "We think this farmer coalition is unique in all of Africa," said cooperative director JJ Keki. "Today the world is in pain. We want to prove that a better way is to be proud of who you are, respect each other, and make something great together."
For Paul Katzeff, CEO of Thanksgiving Coffee Co., the opportunity to support this extraordinary project represents the fulfillment of his 34 years as the innovative leader of the socially conscious coffee roaster: "The Members of the Mirembe Kawomera Cooperative in Uganda exemplify the hope and dreams of the 60's generation, my generation." Mr. Katzeff said, "Peace through tolerance, hope through cooperation, and justice born of equality. Deep in the heart of Africa 558 coffee farmers decided to grow the size of the pie instead of fighting over the scarce little there was. Their courage and creativity in this worldwide time of strife and conflict is a story that the world's leaders need to hear. I am proud of the fact that the universe brought this story to us at Thanksgiving Coffee Co., and now, let us all spread this story of coffee and peace. It's a story for all generations; their coffee is exquisite in both flavor and spirit."
Thanksgiving Coffee is determined to support these Ugandan farmers and their example of peace and tolerance. The company has established a profit-sharing program to help the cooperative fund community projects in education, healthcare and business development, and to build increased capacity to grow and process more coffee. One dollar from the sale of every package is donated to the Peace Kawomera Cooperative with the goal of raising an additional $74,000 over the course of this year to support peace and cooperation in Uganda.
Thanksgiving Coffee has committed to grow sales as the cooperative increases its production. "We are just fundraisers for small coffee-growing villages around the world," Katzeff affirmed. "The cultivation of coffee is a noble profession, one which, however, needs consumers. We urge people to buy, drink, and enjoy this wonderful tasting coffee from Peace Kawomera Cooperative.

I think this is such a cool idea. If you have a credit card, order a pound of coffee, from their website. It's no more expensive than a pound of Starbucks coffee, which, if you don't have a Tim Hortons near you, is the only kind of coffee to drink. Don't even get me started on Folgers...(the F word of coffee). This would make a great gift to those hard to shop for people, and a way to spend your money that you can feel good about. I don't know any Muslims that I can be kind to in the name of true Christian love, so to me, this is a cool opportunity.
Peter and I, because we don't really have a home church, look for unique ways to tithe our money. This is one of those ways. We haven't gotten the coffee yet, but I'll keep you posted on how it is.

Summer Reading List

7.26.2006 10:44 AM 11 2009 Melanie 7 comments

There's something about a good book, that I think, out-does a good movie any day of the week. I love books. One day, I want my own library, just a little one. Some place with big chairs and a comfy throw blanket, and a little coffee bar, now that I'm dreaming about it. I've been meaning to post what I've been reading lately, and recommend some great books I've found. If you're interested then that's great. If you have reading suggestions for me, that's even better.
Currently Reading:
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin - I loved the movies, but never actually read anything by her before now. Liking this one so far. It's in a collection with Mansfield Park, and Persuasion, so I'm looking foward to those. Jane's a little wordy though, so I need to read this in peace and quiet, so I don't get distracted by the subtleties in what she writes.
The Horse and His Boy - CS Lewis - Read it before, but Peter and I are reading the entire Chronicles to each other and this is where we're at so far. This is a much better way to spend an evening than watching TV. If I ever get my own horse, I'm naming him after the boy in this story, Shasta. I adore these books, every one, though this may be my favorite. It's between that or Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The Last Battle makes me cry my eyes out. As soon as we're done the Chronicles of Narnia, we're moving on to Tolkien. I've got the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit in collectors editions, they're so beautiful I just want to look at them and smell them. They were Peter's anniversary gift.
My Utmost for His Highest - Oswald Chambers - This is a devotional I do with my quiet times. I like it a lot, he's very challenging, and says things in a way that's to the point. Big fan of this one, but it's slow going of course. I'll likely finish in a year or so. Maybe.
Voices of the Faithful - Beth Moore - Another devotional, each day is written by a different missionary. It's neat. I love missionary stories. Again, will likely be done in a year or so.
The Cure for the Common Life - Max Lucado - Okay, I have kind of quit reading this one. I loved the first few things I read of his, but now, it just seems like his writing is all the same. This book seems to be Waking the Dead by John Eldridge, but not as gripping a read. Note: read Waking the Dead by John Eldridge. Read anything by him. They (Max's books) just seem so....I don't know. Gimickey maybe? I loved some of his other books, but though he has good things to say, the way he writes just distracts me. I've given up on this one I think. Maybe I'll give it to someone. Any takers? Now that I've made it sound so great?
Book Recommendations:
Peter and I also listen to books on tape, especially when we go on roadtrips. The one we just finished was called Locked Rooms, written by Laurie R King. She writes books about Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mary Russel. She's clever and funny, and her mysteries are great. I read another of her books, A Darker Place, but it suprised me with a needless sex scene (the Sherlock Holmes books were very tame), and other than that, it was good, but a little, well, dark I guess.
Peter is reading Black, White, and Red, by Ted Dekker, which are very good and I highly recommend. However, Ted Dekker and Frank Peretti wrote a book together called House - not very good at all. Don't spend the money. I was very suprised at how cheesy and, well, lame it was. Anything else by Ted I like, and anything else by Frank, for that matter. Weird. Maybe it's like ice cream, and lasagna. Both are yummy, don't mix them.
If you have, for some reason, not read the Voice in the Wind trilogy by Francine Rivers, spend the money. Buy them all, you'll read them at least twice. Peter's best friend Eric loved them, said he cried so many times reading them that he couldn't begin to count. They are incredible, and they are next on Peter's recommended reading list, as given to him by his wife. They're brilliant as are most things by Francine Rivers. Redeeming Love may be my next favorite though. I've read it about four times. The Last Sin Eater, and the Atonement Child are her next best and in that order.
There you have it. Pick up a book, grab a cold drink and go lay in the sunshine. Gosh, that sounds good right now. If I weren't so unbelievably sunburned, I'd be gone. Ah well, I'll grab another coffee and get back to Mr. Darcy, and the lovely Bennet girls. Except Lydia, I can't stand that little brat. Hope she falls down a well.

Home is where the heart is...

7.24.2006 11:08 AM 11 2009 Melanie 8 comments

That's what they say, anyway. If home is where the heart is, then I'm in serious trouble. I've left my heart all over the place, even in San Francisco, though I was only there two days. That's the trouble with me perhaps. I don't know where I belong anymore, I feel connected to places I may never be again, and to places I haven't gone yet.

I feel connected here. This is the Tetons, I was there just a few weeks ago. I feel connected to this annoying little town I hate, where I've lived for nearly a year. I know the best place to get what groceries, the best place to eat. I know street names, and directions. I live here. My license plate is marked Gillette. Yipes. When we leave to come back to Canada, I will miss some things here. I like sitting on my inlaws deck, watching the storms. I like going to the gym with our friends, and grabbing dinner afterward. I like playing with my niece.

I feel connected here, to a village in Nepal. I think I've actually been right here. I know people in these little towns, I know their names. One of them, I led to Christ over some chai. I've walked those long uphill trails, I've watched the Jesus film holding their children. One child in this town, found me alone in the woods, and taught me to make a grass whistle. We never spoke a word to each other, but we laughed a lot. I became an adult in Nepal, and faced some of my worst fears. This is where I developed the introverted side of me that I still cling to. Something that's just mine. Nepal gave me that, and the ability to not only like being alone, but the knowledge that it's necessary. This is the only place I've been, where I still struggle to explain all that I saw and went through. Nepal holds secrets for me.

This is the Old Airport Beach in Kailua-Kona, where I lived for nearly two years. I've sat on this beach and watched the sun go down here numerous times. I've had small group meetings here. I had a barbeque right here one night, and my guy friend asked me while I was grilling some steak, "Mel, are you attracted to Pete?". I told him I didn't know, and then, I didn't. Now we're married and I want to go sit on this beach with him again. I want Thai food from the restaurant here. I loved this little town. I loved racing my little moped up and down the old airstrip.

I miss people in India. I've been three times, and never been to the TajMahal. There's a little girl who sells postcards in Varanasi, in a pink dress I bought her. We fought off some bullies together one day, who were annoying her. I taught her to say "get lost" in English. I promised to send her a postcard, and never did. Maybe I still will. There's an old man in a Mother Teresa Home, that had no legs, that I "danced" with once a week. The only thing he had to his name, was a cot in a room with no walls. He smiled a lot, and wanted me to take him back to Canada with me. As did the orphans I held there, and a little demon possessed boy I prayed with there, and left screaming on the stairs as I drove away. You can't keep your heart in places like these.

I miss Kyoto, Japan. I found a little bit of myself in Japan, wandering through Kyoto, trying not to get high on the opium and incense burning everwhere. I've also stood right here, staring at this temple, with a million other tourists, but everyone is quiet in these places. I love the Japanese people, and there is something truly mystical about Kyoto, it's a piece of an ancient world, surrounded by all that is modern and advanced. It reminds me to hold on to some things, not to trade everything in for something else, simply because it's new, or seems more convenient, or grown up.

And this is one of my favorite spots at my favorite time of day. I've come here at all different times in my life, with different people, and just don't have one bad or difficult memory of this place. Peter and I set sail from here on our honeymoon. I've gone for dessert and drinks in the Bengal Lounge in the Empress, and listened to live jazz. I've fallen over laughing on the lawn of that hotel, at something Peter said. I've hung out with Lindsay and Loren here. My parents took me here when I was young. I think, nearly everyone I really truly love to be with, has been here with me at one point or another. Part of me really belongs in BC, there's something about the island, that gives me an, "I was created for this place" feeling.
Peter and I want to live here. And I can't get a visa in the States, for love nor money. Well, money maybe, but not an amount that I have. We're coming back in October and getting Peter his permanent resident status (faster, easier, and cheaper). And then we'll go back to ywam for a while before coming and setting in here for a bit. I will never settle down, I will travel, as will our children. There's something about seeing different parts of the world that gives you a gift you can't get from anything else. I want my kids to experience this. But it takes something from you. I'm connected everywhere, and nowhere. I don't know what feeling "at home" is. I don't know where I'm from.
I guess, the place that is most home to me, is Peter. In most of these places, I see exotic pictures of things, but remember people. I hope I pass this on. I'm coming to another round of goodbyes in my life, which I hate, and for the amount that I've said, am really, really bad at. But I have Peter with me, and in that way, it's kind of like having home with you all the time. I get nostalgic when I leave places, sorry for the long and sappy post.

What's a Boy to Do?

7.18.2006 2:38 PM 11 2009 Melanie 8 comments

Women's libbers will string me up for this post, I'm sure. Go ahead.
Loren Cunningham (founder of ywam) wrote a book called "Why Not Women?" about releasing women into their callings in leadership. Nice idea, especially in ywam where women outnumber men at least two to one. Women have to be in leadership then. I don't love it, but someone's got to step up, and men don't seem to do that as much anymore. I don't know if women are just getting too dominating, or men too passive, but it sucks either way. In most of my experience, due to whatever reason (read Wild at Heart, there's a few) men seem to back down, because they are attacked by Satan in that he tells them "You don't measure up, and you never will." So they do one of two things, become abusive, or passive. Women get attacked, and either seek more abuse, or become controlling. The passive side of men, and the controlling side of women, scares me. Women can be in leadership, they should be, but they do tend to be a bit controlling when they do. They don't lead as women. They try to be men, and it all goes south from there. I would like to see a real woman leader. But I have this, hmm, calling? to see real men of God again.

I remember that this is why I fell in love with Peter. I told him once, that I would never have told him how I felt about him, and if he hadn't done something, I would have left it. More than anything else, I wanted a Christian guy with a little initiative. Grow a spine. Be a man. I don't want to be the leader, I wasn't made to do it. You were. And he did. He stepped up, I fell in love and the rest is history. He leads like that too, in YWAM. I was amazed at this side of him. There's this quiet intensity about him that gives him authority without him having to say much. I remember this one time, this guy on our India team got in line for food with all of us, and he was in front of all the girls. Peter jokingly said "Hey man, get back here, let the girls go first". He laughed and said no, and stayed where he was. Peter said more firmly, still smiling "Seriously buddy, get back here with the guys. Ladies first" The guy stood up a little straighter and said no, he was fine thanks. Gone was the smile. Peter said very quietly and firmly "Hey. If you are any kind of man at all, you let the ladies go first. Get back here." And that was that.

Chivalry is not a "lost art", it's the sign of a true man. I like having my door opened for me, to have Peter carry things that are heavy. I don't think you'll find a woman who doesn't. It took forever for me to get used to this. My standard response was "No, I'm okay, I can do it." Who freaking cares what I can do? Yes I can lead if I have to. Yes, I can be alone if I need to. Yes, I can carry my groceries up three flights of stairs by myself. But what for? What do I have to prove? Peter's common response to me was, for a long time, "yes, I know you can do it, but I'd like to, if you don't mind." Letting him help me makes him feel like a man. And I want a man. I don't want to do it by myself. Men and women were created for each other. Men are supposed to be the head of the family. The moment that is abused, and isn't done in a sacrificial way, it's gone. The authority they had is toast. But when it's done right, the way God instructs men to lead, there's no reason for me to feel like I need to prove anything. I have no problem submitting to Peter, because he strives to be like this. But if he drops the ball, and I pick it up and try to lead, then we run into issues. I'm not supposed to be the head of this family. The most loving thing I can do to support him, is (gasp!) submit to him. Not lay down dead, but let him lead. Believe that he can lead. If he drops the ball, as is bound to happen from time to time, let him pick it up again. This is HARD for me, and like most hard things, worth the effort.

I want to raise boys with this amazing man I've found. I want to have boys. I actually believe we're having boys, and that maybe, I'll have a little girl last. I was reading about David and his sons a while ago, and so strongly felt that God was going to give us boys first. Weird. I pray for this man I have, that he'll be strong, and that our sons will be like him. That they'll marry girls who will appreciate strong chivalrous men, who sweep women off their feet, and are grounded in who God says they are. I feel so passionately that a lot of what is wrong in society is due to the fracturing of the biblical family, and the absence of real father figures in men's lives. And in women's lives too. Men don't know how to lead anymore. How to commit, and be strong. How to love tenderly, while still being a real man. They've run out of examples. This is my people group, the fractured family. This is my missionary nation, and I'm going. I want to be a part of reaching these families.

Go to this site, listen to the words of the song, "What's a boy to do?" It's a hearbreaking statement about men in this world. It's number seven on the CD player. If you're my mom, and can't ever make out the words in any song but a country song, you can read the lyrics here too. Don't worry mom, this one doesn't rap.

I'm sure that I'm moving to St. Louis
Three long years wondering here in New York City
I guess I'm looking for the right way to do this
I guess I'm looking for the right things to call pretty
Young boys playing in the park turning their backs to take a shot
You know I'll stay sharp around here 'cause they're the stoning and leaving type
It's the kind of love that comes and goes when there's company coming around
What's a boy to do who knows no man now?
What's a boy to do who knows no man now?

Daddy's been looking down his nose at all of them
And I've been looking round for someone to tell me who I am
He kept saying I was too young to finish a fight
I'd die each time they came I never got to draw my knife
Well it was just a pair of shoes in a middle school room with the world watching in
An angel is crying I'm dying just a little inside as they ran away
Funny which words stick around 20 years down when you're driving alone
What's a boy to do when there's no man at home?
What's a boy to do when there's no man at home?

Well I'll stack all my books into perfect rows
From the biggest down to the smallest ones
And I buy all the perfect clothes
Bullet proof and black, where I look like a son
Well it was just a rainy night at his house
A bottle spinning around the room
And everybody's singing and slipping down the bottom of a halfway rush of blood
And I was grabbing Missy but I was trying to find the light switch in the dark
What's a boy to do with no man in his heart?
What's a boy to do with no man in his heart?

It's all quiet for the first time
With no voices left to fall
I saw a boy at the bottom of the bridge
His car was left there on the top
It's four o'clock in the morning
Didn't need to be like this
There's a white sheet left to cover up
What should have been a holy kiss
It's not like those days
It's not like I'm scared of you
What's the Son of Man and a boy to do?
What's the Son of Man and a boy to do?

Are you sitting down?

7.11.2006 3:46 PM 11 2009 Melanie 7 comments

My husband blogged. Maybe if everyone could go there and comment, he'd be encouraged to do it more often?
Anyway, he even put up pictures of our camping trip, so if you're wanting more of those, you can see them there. He hasn't converted to blogger yet, but the layout for his msn one is so cool.
So there you go. Here's my show of support for Peter, and his blogging. Plus, he's super hot and maybe if I do some shameless advertising for him, he'll make out with me.

Running Scared

7.10.2006 11:00 AM 11 2009 Melanie 7 comments

This weekend Peter and I went camping again. We camped next to a beautiful stream and spent Saturday hiking to the Lost Twin Lakes. It was amazing. It's about a 16km hike total, with about 1500 feet elevation gain, so not completely insane, but tough. We ate a picnic lunch next to the lakes and had a wonderful day. The cliffs coming out of the lakes are about 1500 feet high or so, and the view, as you can see in the pictures below, was spectacular, and well worth the blistered feet and sunburn.When we got back on Saturday, we napped in our tent nursing our sore feet, and it started to rain, so we just hid out.

A really beautiful trip, and again, I can't get over how much I just love hanging out with him. We spent Friday night driving there, and setting up camp, and then I made some steak and we drank a bottle of wine next to our huge fire, and he played the guitar and we worshipped and relaxed. It was wonderful. Why then, the reason for this title? Let me explain:

Sunday morning, before we were to leave, Peter wanted to get a little fly fishing in. Sounds good. He was going to go for just over an hour. I was going to pack up camp for him, and because he knows my tendancy to worry, he told me he'd be back by about noon, and that I could start worrying about him at 12:15. He's pretty understanding of my silly worries, and insecurities. I packed up, took a quick "bath" in the stream, and settled on a log to wait the last 15 minutes or so. Half an hour later, he still wasn't there, and I wasn't worried, just annoyed that he wasn't looking at his cell phone clock, and getting bored and sore from my post on the tree. Half an hour after that, I was done being mad at him and getting a little worried. He was nearly an hour late, and now I was panicked. I couldn't figure out any reason for him to be late, barring bodily harm, while he had a clock. An hour late when you're leaving for six hours, is something. Being an hour late when you're only going for an hour, out in the wilderness alone, is quite another.

Now, I've read "Wild at Heart". I agree with it. I know I need to let him be a man, do boy things, be alone sometimes. We weren't camping in a campground, just up in the mountains. But Peter knows me. He knows after a certain amount of time, I'm unable to not worry. And then the fear hits, and your brain goes insane, and nothing rational makes the slightest bit of sense. I was terrified. I thought he'd slipped and fell in the stream and hit his head, or broken his leg. I contempated him being mauled by a bear, or a moose (thanks Becky) or bitten by a snake (this is Wyoming after all). I couldn't stand it anymore. I used my fallen tree to cross the stream and headed off in the direction I knew he'd gone. He was fishing, so I figured I could stay close to the stream and hopefully I would find him. I wanted to yell for him, so that we wouldn't pass each other in the woods, but the act of calling for him with no answer freaked me out more, and as any woman can imagine, within a couple of minutes, I was pretty upset. I was running through the trees crying, calling for him, not finding him and not getting a response. Then I turned around and saw his backpack laying there, with no one around it. It felt like a scene in a bad movie. This is when my last bit of rationale left me completely. I lost it. I was shaking so hard I couldn't think, and couldn't see him anywhere, and couldn't figure out why his backpack would be there and not him. I was screaming for him and bawling and running though the trees and all of a sudden, I came out of the trees, and he was across a meadow, chasing "the biggest fish he'd ever seen" up the stream. I screamed for him, and just collapsed. I've never been so scared, or so relieved in my life. He ran up, thinking I was hurt, and almost died when I told him what time it was. It took a few minutes, but I calmed down, and quit shaking, and nearly threw up (my way of dealing with stress it seems).

I have severe issues with fear, especially fear of being abandoned. I have trouble enjoying things becuase I know they can't stay good forever, meaning, to me, something bad is usually about to happen. I had every reason to be worried, even scared, but this reaction was a little much. That's the problem with fear, and with all sin I guess. It escalates. I'm never just a little worried. I'm a little worried, then I'm scared, then I'm terrified, then I'm wondering what it will be like to be widowed at the age of 24 and how I will live alone the rest of my life. I'm working on this. This morning, I looked up some verses on fear and came to this conclusion: Fear is a distrust of who God says he is. Man, and I thought I just had occasional panic attacks. Nope, I don't trust God in some areas. I allow my past experiences to shape my view of God. It's wrong - it's blatant sin. I'm working on it, and will continue to do so, likely for a long long time. I don't think God is going to "quick fix" anything for me in this area. I'm learning way too much the slow way.

In Peter's defense, he has promised me never to leave on his own again without a watch strapped to his arm. He had his cell with him, though totally out of service range, it had a clock on it, but the backpack it was in, was red, and "scaring the fish away". He left it, tried to judge the passing time, got distracted. He felt terrible, especially holding his mess of a wife shaking in the grass. We drove home, I had a long bath, and he took me out to a nice dinner, and then we got some strawberries and came home and watched the food network. I'm a lucky girl. Anyway, here are some pictures of the trip for you all, now that I've documented my total insanity.

The Benefit of the Doubt

7.05.2006 4:22 PM 11 2009 Melanie 7 comments

This is a long one folks, but if you're reading this, it's meant for you, so read on, if you like.

I am the queen of sticking my foot in my mouth. Do it all the time. When I was about 10 or so, we went to this rich persons house (some business thing for dad maybe?) and they had the most interesting accent. Couldn't put my foot on it...then she asked me how I liked school, and I went on a long rant about liking school except French. Don't know why we have to learn French and on and on...Remember the accent I couldn't place? You know the rest. I'm an idiot sometimes. I do this often. I don't mean to. I'm trying to get better, but this is just a funny thing about me. I don't like it, it gets me into trouble, I'm trying to change. What else can you do?

I had this friend when I got out of high school, and she'd had a rough past, really rough, and a lot of issues. She kind of took her own issues and projected them. She, like every girl, had issues with her body, and so constantly attacked mine, in a rather rude way sometimes, even if she didn't mean it to be that way. I felt bad for her, so I never brought up the way it kind of hurt my feelings. She didn't need that. But it grated on me, and hurt, and we never really were the kind of friends I would have hoped we would be. For this reason. I couldn't relax around her. Some days I'm too pushy, too outspoken, sometimes I hurt people's feelings without meaning to. I can promise any of those people, that I hate it more than they do. It's embarassing. But it is a little part of me. A part I don't like? Yes. A part that I apologize for, if you've encountered it? Absolutely. A part that I am changing? You betcha. Give me some time, it's gonna take a while...

But with my friend, I could never let my guard down long enough for that to happen. I walked on eggshells with her, and I wonder sometimes, if that isn't worse? I don't think that people have to watch what they say around me. I'm pretty good at hearing people. Most of the time...

I think, the measure of a true friend, or the measure of true family, is the ability to freak out, say things you don't mean, be human and have it all be okay the next day. I have a few friends like this, a precious few, and I think I may write them or call them today and tell them how much I love them for this gift they give me. This benefit, as the case may be. I want to be able to act out sometimes, and have someone, anyone, see that action and say "Hey, that's not the Melanie I know. I know that she would never do this if she knew it would hurt me." or say "She means to hurt me, she's upset, she's hurt herself, and she's lashing out, and I'm not going to react to that. I'm going to react to what I know to be true about her."

I don't do this enough for others. I can see some idiot on the highway go flying by us at a completely unreasonable speed, and think, "maybe his wife is in the backseat, in labour, and they're trying to get to the hospital". I have a harder time doing it with people I know and love. I want to be this person to my friends and family. And I want to be able to have this extended back to me. I'm sorry, if ever, I've said anything to you in passing, that hurt you. I didn't mean it. If I did mean it, I'm sorry, I'm human, I'm growing and sometimes I'm annoying and loud and I lash out when I should take a minute, shut up, and pray and get my act together.

My husband embodies this for me. I'm blessed for every day we spend together. He just knows me. I can't explain it better than that. I can freak out, it's okay. He knows that when I react, sometimes I just react. I can't help it, I hate it, and he almost never gets down on my level to battle me when I'm hurt or angry or upset. He knows to ignore me when I'm crying sometimes, that it may not mean anything, so don't make me explain. If I upset him when I'm angry at something else, or say something I don't mean, he knows how to wait, tell me later, and be completely forgiving before I'd ever even know to say I'm sorry. And we never ever joke about something we're actually upset about. It's mean, it never works, and it's a poor excuse to get your point across without having a conversation. We don't allow it. It's up there in our marriage rules with not going to bed mad, or folding towels a certain way.

I wish I could sit down for coffee with everyone I know and just say this: I don't mean to be the way I am sometimes. I hate how human I am. I'd be the perfect friend, sister, daughter, wife, granddaughter, cousin, auntie, if only I had it in my power. In the meantime though, could you give me the benefit of the doubt? We'll probably fight sometime in the future, if you're my sister, we may fight before the day is out, but no matter what happens, know this:
I would be perfect for you if I could. You're important to me. I hate the things I can say and do more than they may hurt you. I'm sorry already. Know that I love you first, and everything else you may perceive about me is less true than that one thing. And I have no problem with changing myself. And God has no problem at all with changing who I am. He's not really all that concerned with how I view my identity outside of him. So give me the benefit of the doubt, or just try to, and that's enough for me. I promise I'll try to do the same.

Deep Blue

6.30.2006 9:26 AM 11 2009 Melanie 7 comments

So last night, we went to the gym and had a good long workout, and then went to the video store and rented Deep Blue. Now, if you've seen March of the Penguins, which was amazing, rent this movie. Really. If you've got kids, rent it anyway. It's unbelievable. We loved it.

If you've never seen March of the Penguins, and can't figure out why in the world you'd rent a documentary on a Friday night, well, let me tell you. March of the Penguins was really a documentary/story. It was moving and beautiful and left you in awe of a part of the world you'll never see. It's -70 degrees with 100 mph winds, you couldn't drag me there for love nor money. But, on a scorching summer day (+35 here yesterday) with a nice cold drink or bowl of ice cream, it's wonderful.

Deep Blue was simply, a better movie. Did you know, that more people have left earth and gone into space, than have ever seen the ocean floor? The deepest parts, that is. They call the oceans, "the last frontier". If you've ever gone snorkelling, you'll understand. It's a completely different world there.

I had a second grade teacher once, who gave us all a sheet of paper and told us to draw a fish. We were supposed to be as creative as we wanted to be. It didn't have to look like a goldfish or anything even really resembling a fish. We could use any color we wanted. When we were all finished, she told us that "chances are better, that the fish you drew actually exists somewhere in the ocean, than that it doesn't. The ocean is that vast". She's actually right. There are creatures down there that we haven't even named.

To me, all I could think of was how incredible God was. It was like being in church, watching this film. If evolution was actually a viable option, why then, is the world so incredibly beautiful? How would we know? What part in the evolutionary process, of adapting and changing with whatever environment we're in, taught us to appreciate beauty? Why in the world does a dolphin expend unbelievable amounts of energy to simply play?

Ten Shekel Shirt has a song that says, "there's something, about the ocean, that makes me rise up and praise you". I couldn't agree more.

Who is this King of Glory...no really? Who is he?

6.27.2006 10:53 AM 11 2009 Melanie 3 comments

I've been thinking lately. Note - Yes, this is going to be long - I'm processing something, I can't do that quickly as you may have noticed. We went up to Casper Mountain and did that music festival in this beautiful little mountain meadow. I had a good time. It's on dvd somewhere, which I have no desire to see, since I hate video of myself and the guy with the camera "loved the way my face looked when I worshipped". I don't want to know. Anyway, we were up there, having a good time, and even singing a worship song Peter wrote (beautiful), and I got to thinking...I love the way worshipping God feels. I think it's amazing that we're commanded to do something that so fills our soul. I don't know anyone who doesn't usually enjoy the worship part of church more than the sermon. Here's my question: So what?
I heard once, that God is far more concerned with our wholeness that our happiness. I like that...that's not true. I hate it, I don't understand it. God will give us pleasure in doing his will, but that's a gift. It's not to be expected. The thing that Christianity offers that no other religion does, is that our God is both Holy and Personal. Big and Good, as someone once phrased it to me. I don't think that we in the western world understand very much about the Big. The Holy. Asia has it down, they don't know a personal God. We have a Personal God who, I hate to say, we very rarely revere. Look at a lot of our worship songs versus a lot of old hymns. We've lost a lot of the holiness, the majesty of a creator King, who has many facets. What we know of him is true, it's good, and the world, especially Asia, needs it.
But what I've been challenged with lately, is worshipping God for who he is, not just who he is to me. This goes against everything my society teaches:
Every single thing you own or buy or love must be relevant to you. "Your life will be more enjoyable if you buy this" or worse "I love him because he makes me feel like this". Nothing anymore, seems to have any worth simply for what it is. We want, I usually want, a cookie cutter, microwave dinner version of God.
" I want your love as the main course with answered prayer as desert (answered, of course, the way I would like). I would like it ready in three minutes and to eat it while I watch a movie." I want to feel good about having regular quiet times. I'm not looking for a challenge unless it's something I can easily overcome, and thus feel better about my Christian journey. I'm growing. Good for me. God's holiness makes me nervous, and his conviction makes me uncomfortable. I don't understand the "God who thunders over the waters", so I will just take my "Jesus is my homeboy" t-shirt and be on my way, thanks.
And by the way, what a good Christian I am for wearing it, and thus, witnessing! Do we have a merit badge here somewhere? Seriously.
I am guilty of this. God is very patient with me. I still feel good about my quiet time, I love to worship, and how it makes me feel. How amazing is it that while I would totally ignore a part of God's character, he would still bless me with joy in the small sliver of him that I am comfortable dealing with daily? He really is personal and wonderful to us. I don't like that I take it for granted. God feels distant and I cry like a little girl, angry that I'm being "ignored". Again, who cares? Why not pray, "God, is there something you're trying to teach me here? Am I going through this difficult time where you feel so distant in order that you actually draw me closer? Is it possible that I'm not getting a raw deal, but that you trust me enough to allow this, knowing I will make it and honor you?" I'm terrible at this. Why would I honor God with my struggle when I can be happy just worshipping and reading psalms? (Not Job, he challenges me to change). I'm grateful that He's patient with me. I'm (and everything in me revolts at saying this) grateful that God would trust me enough to let me struggle. He wouldn't do it if he knew I couldn't take it.
I had a really bad week last week. I cried non-stop. I couldn't tell you why I was sad, I could tell you that God had abandoned me and I couldn't take it. He felt holy all right. Holy and distant and vague. I was scared. I considered anti-depressants. Nothing made me happy, everything made me feel weak and small and sad, just plain sad. I felt frantic and panicked. See, my issue with God is I think the bottom is going to drop out. All the time. I think it with Peter and most people I love. This is great for now, but it can't last, nothing does. I then screw things up so that I'm right. God doesn't care. Trust me, I've tested it, with nearly disastrous results. I've been learning to change this about me. That the core beliefs I formed as a child and carried into adulthood are simply false. They need to be changed. I'm afraid more than anything, a lot of the time. God is working on this with me, and last week, he believed that I had come far enough that he could leave me a little while, and see how I did - with very good reason. I freaked out for three solid days, scaring Peter half to death, and then came back to Jesus, confessed that I was a cry-baby scaredy-pants, and that he was Holy, and that his character was true, regardless of wheather I understood it. He showed me that I had been very wrong and not extended forgiveness for somthing that I was being a total jerk about. I dealt with it. I recovered. I feel a little stronger than I did two weeks ago, though a little shaken and sheepish. It's okay. It's going to be tough sometimes. "God disciplines those he loves". I don't get it, I don't know what he's up to, though I desperately want to, it's not important. He is who he says he is no matter how I feel about it.
I want this part of God. I want him to trust me enough to reveal it to me. I want to trust his character so that the next time I need a little discipline from my heavenly Father, I'm not going to believe that he's abandoned me. He's not going to do that, but he's also not going to let me keep my cookie cutter version of him either. "Take it or leave it Mellie, this is who I am. You can trust it, you're going to need to trust it". No more microwave dinners for me.

Fun with Naomi Jasmine

6.26.2006 1:34 PM 11 2009 Melanie 3 comments

So I promised to post these forever ago, pictures of my little niece, Naomi Jasmine. She's turning four next month, and every time we see her, we have so much fun with her. She totally cracks me up and I love being Auntie Mellie to her. These were all taken a few months ago, when Peter and I took Naomi for night to give her mom and dad a "date night". Bath time was a good amount of fun.

She's definitely a bit of a princess sometimes, but is a good little girl, and very smart. It comes from being around too many adults, I think. The other day we were having cake and coffee over at Peter's parents house, and she stopped eating her cake and told her mom, "I don't want any more cake, it's making my tummy a little bloated". She lifted up her shirt so we could see and said, "mom, why do you give me so much sugar?" and wouldn't eat another bite. We all cracked up.

She's really smiley and very affectionate, and loves to see me and Peter cuddle or hug or kiss. We played "wedding" with her the other night, and I had to be the bride and Peter had to walk me down the aisle and kiss me at the end. She loves to sit on our laps, when we sit side by side watching a movie or something, and quietly makes us hold hands, or looks up at us and says, "kiss!" and we do, and she giggles and snuggles back in.

This was right before I hit a snarl in her hair that made her a little less than happy. Typical female. She loves her Uncle Petey desperately though, and is pretty happy to ham it up in front of a camera.

This is me trying to show her how to flex her muscles. It took a minute to catch on.

This is us threatening Uncle Petey with bodily harm if he didn't leave us to our bathtime. I look like a moron, but she's so cute I had to post this picture.
The other day, we were all again at Peter's parent's place, and she said to me. "Auntie Mellie, you're a parent, right?" "No honey," I told her, "Uncle Petey and I don't have any kids yet." She thought about this for a while, looking a little confused as to why that would be and said, "You don't know how? When I get married, I can teach you!" She's very generous.
A few days later, she asked again. "Why don't you have kids yet?" I told her that "Uncle Petey" and I would have kids soon but not yet, she had to wait a while. "But what if God sends you a baby now? I think he will." This last "prophecy" made my mom and sisters in law very happy.
She's a fun little kid, and though not very skilled in predicting the future yet, (she thinks everything, including a full term pregnancy takes "seven minutes") she makes me laugh every time I'm with her. Maybe we'll have to do another overnight outing again with her. She's fun to spoil and play with and teach things and wrestle with. We love her to pieces.

Our Camping Trip

6.20.2006 2:56 PM 11 2009 Melanie 5 comments

This folks, is the pretty part of Wyoming. Not to be confused with where I live, as that is slightly different. It takes about 7 hours to get here, to the Tetons where one can find some of the best camping and skiing that a place could offer. On the backside of these mountains is an amazing ski resort. I want to go next winter for at least a little while.

This is me next to the waterfall in Yellowstone. We had a great time, spent five nights in the park, after getting there really late. Because we were camping at about 10,000 feet elevation, the weather was a little strange. The two days before we got there, they had sunburned, it was so hot. The next day, I had breakfast in the sunshine, then had to run for cover as the rain and hail came in. By evening it snowed, and at night it rained again. Luckily for us, our tent stayed warm and dry, and before we left I petitioned mightily for double sleeping bags, which I won out on. Nights were spent with Peter much too warm because his wife in her flannel was snuggled right in. He'd move away, I'd get cold and follow him until in my sleep, I actually chased him right off the mattress and he had to wake me up and ask me to move over.

This is Peter and his dad standing next to one of the gysers. Yellowstone happens to be one of only 3 places in the world where you can find active gysers. Iceland and New Zealand have some also. There are lots of places to go hiking where you can get right next to them. This was on about a 2 mile hike we took, where despite the weather, I got rather sunburned on my face. Nothing like "tomato face" to go with no makeup (okay, a little makeup. Don't want to scare the wildlife) and greasy hair. The mist is coming from one of the gysers and smells just like the water when you boil a bunch of eggs. It's a little smelly, but it's such a neat place you don't really notice so much.

This is a picture I took of one of the hot springs. The sulfur makes the edges really yellow but the pools are so small in circumference (biggest we saw was about 20 feet across) and so deep the pool goes from the prettiest blue, to black in the middle. The water is crystal clear and there's no bottom to the pools in sight. It freaks me out a little. What must live down there? Nothing likely, since most of the pools are actually boiling hot. We were freezing at this time, and they looked so inviting.

This is just a cool little gyser that blows that funny smelling gas. It looks like a little steam engine to me, we thought it was funny.

Here you can see the pit in the middle of the pool where it just goes deeper and deeper until it goes black. Creepy I tell you. The hot springs are right next to the lake, and way back when, the explorers of this place used to catch fish in the lake, and boil them right there in the hotsprings. Sounds a little gross to me to cook already yucky fish in sulphur smelling water, but hey, that's just me. Can anyone tell I have a tour guide for a husband? I learned a lot about a lot of strange things on this trip.

This is the "Grand Canyon of Yellowstone". The river cuts through the rock a really long ways down, as you can see by the teeny little walkway that goes down. We didn't get to go down here, too much to see, too little time to do it all, even in five days.

This is me snuggling with my husband, who still liked me even though I disturbed his sleep. It's okay, we usually went to bed around 11pm and didn't get up till 10am. I love camping. We hung out around the fire in the evening and read the last of "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" (we're reading all the Chronicles of Narnia to each other). I love this man. What a doll.

This is just a cool picture of the steam vents on our hike. There were so many amazing things to see here. In a lot of the places you can't walk anywhere off the path because the earth is really thin in some places and you'll fall right through. A little boy had fallen in just before we got there and had some pretty severe burns, but is doing okay last we heard. Poor little guy.

This is a really pretty waterfall that I hiked down to to take some nice pictures of. The sun was hitting the water really beautifully. I have a better picture but I can't figure out how to turn it around, when I post it, it's sideways, so meh!, what can you do?

An overlook of the major waterfall that feeds the little one in the picture before this one. Again, I have a prettier picture of it, but can't seem to turn it around. Peter thinks I have to save them somewhere and edit them and then load them here. I couldn't be bothered.

This is the Tetons coming up out of the lake. The coolest thing about the Tetons is that it's pretty much flat around them, but then they jump out of the flat brown land around them and there's just a few really tall mountains. It's amazing... A major point of the trip was to find good homemade fudge. There was none to be found in the enitire park, but if you drive 100 miles from our campsite to Jackson Hole, you will find a nice little fudge shop with fresh fudge, of which we bought 2 1/2 pounds. I'm still eating mine.
So there you have it. I think we're going on smaller trips over the next few weeks, which I'm looking forward to. I'm still denying the fact that there's a pile of smoke smelling laundry in our car. I don't want to think about hauling it up to my apartment, stinking the place up, and then paying a million dollars in quarters to wash it downstairs. I may ask my in-laws if I can come over and use their washing machine and dryer and make dinner in exchange. We'll see. Anyway, that's it. I haven't posted a ridiculously long blog in a while, so there you have it. It's also too long to spell check, so I'm sorry if you've been reading this and getting annoyed.

Gone Camping

6.13.2006 9:42 AM 11 2009 Melanie 10 comments

This evening, right after work, Peter and I are taking our summer vacation. To Yellowstone National Park, all of the pictures below are from right there. We're going to have to drive over 8 hours and get there really late tonight, but by this time tomorrow, I will be waking up in a tent next to my husband, who will hop out of bed to make me eggs and bacon over the fire. I'll drink really bad coffee (actually I have little Tim Hortons packages to bring along), and sit in a lawn chair wrapped up in my blanket in some sweatpants and one of Peter's hoodies and read a book while my breakfast cooks. Other than cooking breakfast on most Saturday mornings, Peter doesn't cook at home, and for this reason: when we camp, I don't cook. I'll throw a hotdog on a stick, but that's about it. Peter loves it. Cooking outside, chopping wood, doing all that guy stuff. I love him - he's such a boy.

We get to go hiking right here. It's not going to be super hot, so it will be great for hiking around. I just got some good hiking shoes and I can't wait to break them in. This is by far, my favorite way to get exercise.

We're going to see Old Faithful and watch it shoot 70 feet into the air and poke around the 100 year old lodge. If it's raining (a possibilty this weekend) we may curl up next to their enormous fireplace with a coffee. (Everytime I blog I mention coffee don't I?)

Though I am Canadian, I have never seen a moose in the wild. I'm hoping that changes this week, I think it would be so great. The last time Peter's family went camping, they were sitting around the fire in the morning and one just wandered by. Silly Americans monopolizing the moose sightings. I'll show them.

This is near the lake we're camping by. There's steam everywhere because of all the hotsprings and gysers. Unfortunately, no hot springs you can swim in, they are literally boiling hot, that's okay, it's going to be too chilly to swim.

I can't wait to go, see the sights. Apparently Yellowstone gets millions of visitors per year, it's all worth seeing. At this point though, I'm so camping starved that I would just about pitch a tent on my deck. I figure that one of the best things about being married by far, is the double sleeping bag. Peter and I both have really amazing mummy sleeping bags but I petitioned mightily for some cheapy bags we could zip together. Other than coffee and eggs and bacon in the morning in front of the fire, this has to be, the best part of camping.

I'm very excited about this part of the trip. The Tetons (french for "breasts" - dirty frenchmen) are about two hours of beautiful drive from where we're camping, as well as Jackson Hole, a really cool little town at the base of them. Apparently you can see Harrison Ford walking around town. Umm, wahoo? Peter's dad looks just like him anyway, I'm sure he'll be asked for his autograph while we're there. I want to drive over and poke around the town. I've only ever driven through and I loved it. Even the Wendy's there is a little log cabin. It's so cute and quaint. I'm a sucker for quaint mountain towns. So folks, I'm gone. I'm leaving behind the terrible Oilers tradgedy, the people who I have to talk to at work all day long who have minimized our site page and can't get it back because they don't understand that they've just minimized, nothing else. The page works, you just can't use a computer, and I'm not your PC support-sorry. (little work rant there for ya) I'm leaving my house, and the decision of what to do in Gillette on a Saturday when there's nothing to do in this town. I'm going to relax, sleep in my tent with my husband, visit with his family, read a book or two. Watch my gorgeous husband play guitar in the firelight and sing. My gosh I love camping. Honestly, I've been on a cruise (WASTE of money) and this is better by far. I'll be back Sunday night. Have an awesome week everyone. I wish you were all coming with me. Okay, maybe not Trav, cause he's got tattoos now and is a little weird, but eveyone else? You bet. Drive down and join us! Bring a tent and some eggs and some Tim Hortons coffee if you're coming from Canada, mine'll run out after a day I'm sure.

The Wind in Your Hair

6.12.2006 11:12 AM 11 2009 Melanie 6 comments

Last year, the Pittsburgh Steelers won the Superbowl (with the help of the 12th man in stripes, but that's another story.) Their quarterback, Ben Roethlisberger was the youngest QB to ever win a Superbowl, at age 23. He's amazing. When I made my Madden team Ben was the quarterback I signed, no matter what the cost of the contract. I love him.

He had an lucky start to his carreer, when the Steelers' regular QB was injured in the 2004/'05 season and 'Big Ben' had to start. He surpassed the record for wins by a rookie quarterback, going 13 and 0. When the starting quarterback, Tommy Maddox got better he didn't get his starting position back. Ben was simply too good. The next year, his performance at the Superbowl itself left something to be desired, but up until that point was amazing, especially for such a young guy. We'll blame it on nerves. It is, after all, the most televised event there is, if I'm correct. He's making millions, unlike a lot of 'NFLers', doesn't seem at all cocky when he's interviewed, he just seems like a nice guy, having the time of his life.

Today, while riding his motorcycle he was in an accident. He's in surgery as I type, and there's not a lot of info right now other than that he flew over the handlebars and smashed his face into the windshield of the car. They think he's busted his jaw, and lost most of his teeth; which NFL-wise would be the least of his problems should he get away so "lucky". The pictures of the car show a pretty sizable dent in the passenger side near the wheel, and a head-sized smash in the windshield with one below that which everyone will be praying is not his arms, hands, shoulders, knees, or honestly, any other part of his body. It was pretty scary looking. All they know is that his injuries are not life threatening.

Here's my issue with it all: He wasn't wearing a helmet. He never does. He doesn't 'like it,' I believe he's said before. Now that I know he isn't going to die, I don't mind saying, "what a complete idiot!" He's been given the chance of a lifetime, a chance that a million boys and men (and likely some women) around the world would give up nearly anything to have, especially if you pair it with his ability and his opportunities. And he will not give up the feeling of having the wind in his hair as he rides his motorbike. If he can't ever play again he will lose literally millions of dollars, and the ability to do what he loves most. Not to mention possibly never riding a bike again. All he needed to do was put on a helmet.

Due to this, and another motorbike accident involving an NFL player some time ago, many coaches and owners will be rethinking having a "no motorbike clause" in many signing contracts. You want to play in the NFL, you don't get a motorbike. Get one when you retire with all your millions. Honestly, people in everyday situations give up all sorts of things for their jobs. People make sacrifices and usually, to do a job that they hate. My father-in-law barely ever gets a break from his job. His boss treats him like garbage and he's on call almost all the time. He can get called from bed to go and deliver medical supplies, he can be in the middle of speaking at his daughter's graduation (they gave him a few hours off for that one) and if they need him, he goes. But he took the job, and that's what he does, and what he gives up to get a paycheck, and not a great one.

I love Big Ben. I hope for his sake, and his families' sake also, that he recovers fully. I also really hope that when his face impacted that car this morning, that it brought him to his senses. Get well Ben. Get well. And for the love of Pete, get a helmet.

I'm with the band...I think?

6.09.2006 9:54 AM 11 2009 Melanie 6 comments

A funny thing happened yesterday. My amazingly talented husband was asked to join a worship band that's playing the Casper Mountain Christian Music Festival,and maybe a couple other places this summer. They're called Temple Praise. Peter's friend Eric plays with them, a couple places a year, so they needed a guitarist, and Eric reccomended Peter for it. Eric's wife Cary sings with them, so I was going along to practice yesterday to watch and simply due to a severe lack of good worship in this town, and having heard them play before, knowing I could get some there. Seriously, the only songs I can remember hearing at chuch (when we go) is "Jesus on the mainline - Tell him what you want!" and "...He sees the babies crying, the old folks dying, and He gives us all his love." (this last song must be sung to a cow-poke-y guitar by a man who looks alarmingly like John Denver). Worship at our church, as I've experienced it, sounds like camp songs when you're in fifth grade.

Now, I realize that I am admittedly, and almost proudly, a snobby ywamer. I'm used to worship three times a week by people who have CD's out, whose songs you've likely sung in church before, not mine, but maybe yours. Campfire worship is a struggle for me, and a huge part of why we don't usually get up for church at 7am on Sunday.

So I get my grape milkshake from Dairy Queen and we get there, meet the other people who are practicing, and the main worship leader, Robin, starts handing me music sheets, and talking about getting me linked with a mic. I lean into Cary and whisper "am I supposed to sing here?!" she laughs and says it looks like it, so I am inadvertantly pulled into the band when they inevitably sang a bunch of my favorite worship songs, that of course I hadn't heard in forever and was just so happy to hear again.

Now, I can sing. I'm not tone deaf by any stretch of the imagination, and have been on worship teams before in ywam (no CD for me though). I sing with Peter all the time. I love singing harmony, and I can hold my own. Peter says I'm really good, but would be better if I believed I was really good and sang good and loud. I can't do that. At least I thought I couldn't.

So we start singing these songs and I'm so happy to hear them and the musicians are so loud I figure I'm good, especially since the mics cannot be found. And we have two guitars, a keyboard and a drumset all amped up in a tiny little room. I belted it out. It felt really good to just worship again. I love to sing, I love their style, the worship, the simplicity of it, and that it wasn't so much a band practice but a bunch of people just getting together and worshipping. The worship leader, a lovely woman, heard me, and set me and Cary next to her so she could hear us better. By then I figured I'd started, I may as well finish. She said the harmony was really pretty, and by the end of the night I'm officially signed up for four or five more practices, and am singing with them at this festival. It was all very funny to me, and to Peter who tells Robin that I sing really pretty harmony, because he's always trying to get me to sing more, and to believe that I can. So there you have it. I'm in, for now at least. For the Casper Mountain Festival and maybe something in Buffalo later on. And maybe one here in the park. Weird. I'm excited, I love the music, and I love the idea that five times over the next two weeks I get my worship fix filled, I've missed it a lot.

Check out the link, and the pictures. The tattooed guitarist is an old friend of Peter's (the one who can't make it this year). They used to play in a band together called Your December and there is some very funny video of a couple of their "gigs" - Peter was 20 or so. The drummer is our good friend Eric. Apparently the audience is pretty much a bunch of sweet Christian hippies and bikers, but there's some good bands there (Lamb, if you're old enough to remember them) this year, and a speaker from India, who I'm going to love hearing. I'm excited about it all, no matter how I stubled into it....