Tag Archives: life

Sunny Day Quiet Evening

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Today has been a satisfying day.

My major case presentation has arrived back with minimal revisions necessary. I was a little bit worried as the prof who is my reviewer was one who was a fairly hard marker during the coursework. But there are only about 4 paragraphs that he wants reworked. Not too bad.

I bused out to a friend’s house – 45 min – to borrow a bicycle in anticipation of a friend visiting for the weekend. The cycle home along the Galloping Goose Trail was lovely, if hot, and there were some incredible views of the straight of Juan de Fuca and the Olympic mountains.

I threw together dinner, but it was tasty and satisfying. Really, anything that includes broccoli is a win in my book.

Pulled the ukulele out and played for the first time in awhile. I might just have enough competence regained to bring it with me on SALTS in 3 weeks time. I have decided that a ukulele is a better size than a guitar for travelling and for bringing on a tall ship. I can always borrow a guitar on board because there are usually a few kicking around.

I’m wearing my newest slippers. I made them out of a sweater that I accidentally shrunk a little. It was a favourite sweater that I bought in Japan and was super cozy and comfortable. However, in washing it, it shrunk a little – too much to be wearable. I couldn’t bear to part with it, so I felted it and have now cut and sewn it into slippers. Sweater slippers. Possibly the most comfortable thing ever.

On the Theme of Africa

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I have been reflecting on the news coming out of East Africa. Now that it is officially a famine, people are beginning to pay attention to what others have been warning about for years.

Two years ago, I had the privilege of visiting Kenya and spending time talking with many incredible people about their lives and their experiences. I was visiting my Dad and Stepmother, who volunteer with a relief organization and who were at the time overseeing a food distribution project in parts of Kenya that had been hit hard by a lack of rain for several years.

As a part of their work, we had discussions with groups of individuals in each village we went to in order to learn more about the people of that village and what their particular needs were. I will never forget one man’s response when asked how his village was faring, Some people in my village have found chemical drugs. Because you bring us food, we will not have to use them. The pain, or shame, of being unable to feed your family must be unbearable. And now it is happening on an even larger scale than even two years ago when I visited Kenya. At the time, I ranted about water use. In a post on Dad’s blog, I wrote:

Since we arrived here we have been able to take part in four food distributions in vastly different areas of the country. While each community has unique challenges and situations, they are united by a need for food relief brought on by a lack of rain. In each place, we sat down with a small group of villagers to find out how they are coping, and in each place we heard a similar story: The rains have not come. In many cases, the rains have not come for three or four years. We have heard stories of livestock (and therefore livelihood) dying for lack of rain. We have heard stories of repeated crop failure so that now there are no seeds left to plant. … We visit villagers and hears stories of drought: “If only we had a borehole/proper irrigation/a pump…” – whatever it may be that they need to get water.

I am not going to make an impassioned plea for your money for Africa. But I will say this, CIDA is currently matching donations, dollar for dollar, for the “Horn of Africa Drought”. If you are looking for a good organization to go through, I can vouch for PWRDF and our partner organizations in East Africa.

“Dear Artsy and Musicy Friends”

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My sister is moving to South Africa – in a little over a week. To say I am jealous would be an understatement (though, as she pointed out, after sailing around the Pacific I really haven’t got a leg to stand on). I’m going to miss spontaneous phone conversations at all hours of the day, but I know we’ll keep connected and I know she is going to have an incredible experience.

You might be wondering what on earth would take her to South Africa, I asked her to share a little about what she will be doing because I think that it is something that many of my friends could relate to and may want to think about supporting. In her words…

Hello, friends of my darling big sister!

I am embarking on a really fantastic adventure and Gillian mentioned that she has lots of “artsy and musicy friends” who might be interested in hearing about it. I’m taking off for South Africa at the beginning of August to teach music in a very rural part of the country.

My destination is Hamburg, on the coast of the Eastern Cape.  The Keiskamma Trust has been active in this area for almost ten years, bringing hope to one of the poorest regions of the country by combining health and art to heal both body and spirit.  In addition to running a health clinic to deal with the high incidence of HIV/AIDS (approximately 35%), they manage art projects that help the local Xhosa people express their struggle for reconciliation through photography, embroidery, and pottery.  Some of their major projects have included the Keiskamma Tapestry and the Keiskamma altarpiece.  For the past five years, children in the area have had the opportunity to receive music lessons through the Keiskamma Music Academy, providing them with an opportunity for creativity and development that would otherwise be far beyond their means.

I was originally put in touch with the Keiskamma Trust because they need a recorder teacher (recorder is the main instrument taught at the music academy), and I am one of that rare breed that has a university education in recorder performance.   As I learned more about the organization I was impressed by their holistic approach to health and by the high musical standards of the Academy.  I’m inspired by their core belief that health is more than food and bread but also includes quality of life and opportunities for becoming more than our lot in life would dictate.

I’ve agreed to go over to Hamburg to teach for at least the next six months because I know that music has made a difference in my life and in the lives of my friends.  I believe many of us would agree that our sense of human-ness comes from the ability to express ourselves through our art.  It’s a privilege for me to give the opportunity of musicmaking to others.

A few of my own music-loving friends have asked if the Music Academy needs anything in the way of music or instruments.  The students use plastic Yamaha recorders, which have worked well, but as the music program grows they are running out of instruments and could use several more sopranos and altos.  These instruments seem very inexpensive to us but are completely unaffordable for these students.

I don’t have room in my bag for instruments, but if anyone is interested in sponsoring a recorder please let me know.  It would be easy for me to take money over to South Africa and purchase instruments there.  Please contact Gillian or myself if you’re interested and we can make arrangements.  I promise to send photos of the recorders in action 🙂

Also, I will try my best to send out sporadic indications by email that I am still alive.  If you want to receive these glad tidings of music making on the other side of the world, let me know! (You don’t need to help purchase instruments to get on that mailing list.)

Thanks for reading all the way to the bottom of this message from someone you don’t know, and blessings on your own artistic and musical pursuits!

Jen

The End: Dear Grandpa

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We went to see the final Harry Potter movie tonight.

It was bittersweet. Sweet because it was a much anticipated and much enjoyed film. Bitter because it was the end of an era of Harry Potter movies.

I was a late(r) comer to the whole series. I didn’t begin to read the books until the first one had already been made into a movie and was playing in the theatres. And I came to the whole series, print or film, quite reluctantly.

I am one of those people who doesn’t like to read a book just because everyone else is reading it. If Oprah has put it on her book list and I haven’t read it, I likely won’t. If I read it before Oprah, I will make sure you know that I found it first. If a book or series is a “must read”, I may wait to read it or skip reading it altogether (still haven’t read Twilight. At this point, it is a matter of principle that I am not going to). I like to find the hidden gems and read them. If a popular book is a genuinely good book and it catches my attention independently of best-seller lists, I might read it anyway… but I’m a book snob.

I am also one of those people who likes to read the book before I see the film and usually prefers the book to the film. I can often be heard saying, “Well, the movie was good but the books was better” or, “They totally messed up the book and changed that whole scene around, cutting out some of my favourite parts”. Don’t be fooled. I probably liked the film just as much, sometimes I just want to sound pretentious.

One summer, about 10 years ago, around the time the first Harry Potter film hit theatres, I was visiting my grandparents in Ontario. I had not read Harry Potter. I had no intention of reading Harry Potter. Harry Potter was entirely too popular for me. My intentions vanished however when my grandfather expressed his dismay and disappointment in me for not having read the books. Not being one who likes to disappoint people, I paid attention.

The first movie is out in theatres. We are going to see the matinee tomorrow afternoon. I have been waiting to watch it with you.

Okay. I don’t really know what it is about, but I’m looking forward to going to a movie with you.

What?! You haven’t read the books? Come here… we walk into the bedroom with the computer desk and some of the treasured books… I have all the ones that have been published. Here, this is the first one. Go sit down and read. We aren’t going to the movie until you’ve finished it.

Um. Okay Grandpa. [For the record, I managed to get 3/4 of the way through book one before we went to the matinee less than 24 hours after I was handed the book and told to “READ”!]

Apparently I come by my refusal to watch movies before reading books honestly. I also do what I’m told.

So Grandpa, I wish I could have watched all of the movies with you and that you had been able to read the entire story from beginning to end. It was a good one. Thanks for getting me started on it.

Waiting

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Some late night, only slightly coherent ramblings as they cross my mind. Written here mainly because my computer is on my lap and my journal is out of reach.

I am reading the Old Testament lesson next Sunday (Genesis 29:15-28 for those of you who do not have the lectionary at your fingertips). After being sent the reading this evening, I was looking it over to see what I’ll be reading next week. Wow. Jacob worked for 7 years before getting what (who) he wanted. And I am whining about 1 or 2 years of school or work before “getting there” (unsure where “there” is at the moment).

So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.

Puts things into perspective. I don’t know whether to hope that this time of not knowing what I am doing or where I am going passes quickly or mourn the lost time as time spent doing something other than what I would like to be doing.

Grace

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About 18 months ago, I had a Grace in Small Things project underway. I got to 56 days of my planned 365 and then things fell by the wayside. The goal was to acknowledge and recognize five things that were good in my day, and to practice that for a year. It was a big commitment. Since I struggle to get a photo up every week on Friday, I am not sure how I thought I could complete daily postings for a year.

The practice, however, was a good one. It reminds me of a part of the practice of Ignatian Examen: to review the events of the day with gratitude, focusing on the people interacted with, the the gifts of the day, and the blessings of small things: conversations, good food eaten, and things seen. It is a good practice.

As I sit here at the kitchen table with good music playing, a mug of Jasmine tea from my last trip to China, and the remnant of my birthday chocolate, I am reminded of these good things. The small things, the simple things that bring joy in life.

I had a killer [bad] day. It was my fourth day in a row of work (three in optometry, one in counselling) and around hour six, I hit the wall of “I. Can. Go. No. Further.”. With two more hours to go, it was a struggle to make it. After dropping off the bank deposit from work I decided to hop into the local Japanese grocery store next door and pick up some miso soup to have with my veggi stirfry for dinner. I have a weakness for good miso soup and they make a good one. (Speaking of miso soup, this is a hilarious job posting!) When I arrived at the store, all their sushi was discounted 50% off. So I had some gyoza and oysters with my stirfry and miso. What a find!

Other joys in my day? I love some of the girls I work with; they are such a blessing and so much fun. I’m going to miss seeing them a few times a week when I finally get my counselling job. My thesis is finished: all I need is a title and I can submit it. I had a brief, but funny conversation with my sister. I love her. I got a wonderful email from a friend. My tea was perfect and hit the spot and soothed my stomach. I spent some time sewing a belt to wear later this week. Dinner has left me more than satisfied. I have leftover sushi for lunch. The smell of grass and rain.

Here’s to new perspectives

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Its amazing what a little regular exercise – the variety that clears the head not the variety that is the enforced cycling from A-B for work – plus the regular eating of good food plus good conversations does to lift one’s mood. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel of a long paper doesn’t hurt either.

Here’s to new perspectives and long weekends with friends and family!

Another Chapter

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I should be writing my final paper right now. (I tell my counselling clients not to “should” themselves. Easier said than done.) 

The last week or so has seen me wrapping up sessions with the handful of clients that remain. By this time next week, I will have no practicum clients left and will have begun to work with people post-student life (No, I don’t have a job, I’m just volunteering to get my hours up).

My final paper, a major case presentation, is due in 2-3 weeks; I am just over halfway through.

And so, I begin to think about the next chapter.

In reality, I have been thinking about it for a few months. I go through cycles of panic and frenzied job searching to a healthier, more laid-back confidence in God’s provision. Because, really, I have no reason to panic… I’m not broke and needing to repay thousands of dollars in student loans (Though making enough money to cover living expenses certainly would be nice). I do have the ability to wait for something right to appear. Ability… well, some ability. How long I can wait is more a matter of my own sanity.

But then I remember: Why panic? Over and over in my life, I have been constantly amazed at the unseen hand of God at work. Yes, that is what I believe it is. Doors opened and blessings given undeserved. Opportunities appearing out of the blue. It blows the mind. It is a good reminder of why the Israelites were commanded to retell their history over and over again. By retelling those stories, we remember and can be reassured.

Perhaps my lesson right now is to sit and prepare to have my mind blown once again. I’m sure I am violating all kinds of laws of Biblical hermeneutics with quoting this passage out of context, but when thinking about being constantly amazed at what God is doing in (and in spite of), through, and for me, Habakkuk 1:5 comes to mind:

Look at the nations and watch—
and be utterly amazed.
For I am going to do something in your days
that you would not believe,
even if you were told.

Hmm. Instead of panic, freak out, and search out, it seems that my words for this moment should be watch, wait, and believe. I don’t always get it right, but I’m trying.

Placemats and Genocide

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When I tell people that I am on PWRDF’s Youth Council, the first predictable response is “What is PW… something?”. After explaining it as the Primate’s World Relief and Development Fund, the relief, development, and social justice arm of the Anglican Church of Canada (pwrdf.org), the next question usually asks about monkeys.

All joking aside, I am delighted to be a part of the Youth Council because I believe strongly in the work that PWRDF does and want every Canadian Anglican (or really just every Canadian) to know about it and understand the importance of their and their church’s support.

My first awareness of PWRDF has a very specific start-date: I can still picture the placemat. I grew up in a parish in the Diocese of Ontario. Our parish had (still has?) a wonderful tradition of Wednesday morning Lenten services followed by breakfast together in the parish hall. In my memory, there were a good number of people who would attend before heading off to work – my parents faithfully went every week, bringing their two young children. At breakfast, each long table was set with PWRDF placemats. I remember sitting at the table, looking at the pictures and being captivated by the images portrayed. However, what stands out to me even more than the images on the placemats is the memory of a church lady standing before everyone with one of the placemats and exhorting us to Stop! and Pay Attention! to the images and messages contained on the placemats and then Do Something! about it.

You see, this was the season of Lent 1994, a time in which the tensions in Rwanda were at the boiling point. We, through PWRDF and other organizations, were being urged to take a stand and write letters to our government to urge them to support actions to help prevent a genocide. I didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation being described until years later, upon reading accounts of the events and putting 2 + 2 together. However for me, PWRDF placemats will always be a reminder of a call to action, of a call to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God.