My name is Beth, and I'm a birdaholic.

Which means I am addicted to birdahol. Haha.

No theology in this one, guys. It’s reading week, and I’m on theological break. But thank you for helping me think through the last issue. Also, in case you were worried, still no sign of any of the late Melba’s possible relatives, and yes, I finished my paper, five minutes before the deadline. Yikes.

There are a lot of people in my neighborhood who run. Usually they are grouped in packs. They wear spandex pants, and lightweight gore-tex coats of the highest quality. They have tiny water bottles strapped to them. Most of them look like they’re in deep distress. Others try to talk to each other. Sometimes when I see them coming in my direction, I look behind them to figure out what they’re running from, so as to decide whether or not I should be joining them as they flee. Or I look ahead to see where they’re so anxious to run to. Mostly, I think that running is silly. You miss out on everything there is to see.

Such as harlequin ducks. I saw harlequin ducks from the Rock the other day, for the first time. They’re gorgeous. Here’s a picture I didn’t take. I call the ones at the Rock Brendon 1, 2, 3 and 4, thanks to a rumour I heard about a certain pastor who used to read harlequin romances. Also, two new bald eagles showed up, who Christine aptly named Lex (Luthor) and Sinead (O’Connor). Did you make the connection? And this morning, I met my first coot. The best thing about meeting a coot (yes, this is a duck-like creature) is that I knew it was a coot because of my ecology camp teaching last summer. I remembered that coots have lobed toes instead of webbed feet. I actually held up a rubber coot foot on several occasions to teach the children about coots, though I had yet to see one. And now I’ve seen it. My eco camp boss would be so proud of me! Christine (who is obviously my bird namer) has suggested "Ya old" as an appropriate name for this coot, in honor of her grandmother's use of the saying "ya old coot". Check out the lobed toes in this picture I took.


Today I realized that yes, I am, in fact, a bird geek. You may things such as those recorded in the last paragraph should have been enough to convince me, but we can be rather blind to ourselves sometimes. I only realized my own geekiness as I talked to another bird geek. She is an older British woman, and I drove with her to visit a Christian conservation center today. She said things like “blow me down if I didn’t spy a golden plover at the estuary last week” and spoke of the return of the snow geese as an “emotional, religious experience”. She convinced me to join the Vancouver Natural History Society (I thought they were about history, but apparently they’re about nature). I sent in my membership today. I think it will provide great geek catharsis – finally, I will meet more of my own kind.

Now that I’ve lost half of my blog readers due to boredom, I think it’s time to get reading. It is reading week, after all.


P.S. Tip to anyone who doesn’t have an oven, but still wants to enjoy muffins… they’re called muffin mix pancakes. Simply pour muffin mix in pancake-sized blobs in the frying pan. I remembered Andy Milton making them on a canoe trip once, and they’re to die for. Thank you, Andy.

P.P.S. Guess who?

Melba is Toast.

I give all credit for this witty title to my sister, Rachel, who is visiting me here in the Couv.

Yes, today we recognize the life and death of Melba, who turned out to be a svelte, black roof rat about the length of my fingertips to my elbow (including her long tail). Since I am always first to rise in the morning, I was first on the scene. Method of death was the good old mousetrap, which we've had set for a couple of months now. Melba just got a little too cocky, I suppose. Thought she was invincible. I decided to be brave and put her, with the trap, in a bag, and I was such a wimp - my hands were trembling. I've seen hundreds of dead rats in the lab, much uglier than she. But those rats' heads were not crushed. Anyway, it remains to be seen whether she had any friends in the walls.

I've had a wonderful week with Rach. I made her do grad school things with me, like coming to my classes, going to a Regent party, walking around Stanley Park, watching Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson DVDs, watching intelligent movies, hanging out with a prof's child, eating Ethiopian food and gelato, and ordering pizza. Also, we've had the mission to find her a one-of-a-kind Grade 12 grad dress, chocolate brown (for you Americans, in Canada, we don't have prom, we just have grad, but we still dress up.) Tomorrow we head to New West, to bridal avenue, to continue the quest. And then tomorrow night, she leaves. She leaves me to finish a paper and write a Hebrew test. I will most likely be up all night... I'm not good at writing papers efficiently.

One anecdote from our day... we were in the Stanley Park parking lot, and a car pulled up beside us and the guy inside said, "Do you know where we can get some bud?" I thought he might mean Budweiser beer, but I wasn't sure about the singular use of "bud". I said, "Huh?" He said, "Weed." I understand that slang. I said, "I don't know, man, but I suggest you kick the drugs and get hooked on the Holy Spirit." No, I didn't really say that. Actually, I said, "Sorry." So I have officially been asked for drugs in the Couv. Danice says it's a momentous occasion.

Thank you all for commenting about church unity. I will have to think of more issues to address on here. I agree with what you're all saying about diversity in worship - I would never want to have us all singing or responding to God in the same way, I'm all about flavors. I guess what I'm less sure about is diversity in doctrine, in theology. My prof told us yesterday that there are 200 000 Protestant denominations. Here's a rather provocative quote from Lesslie Newbigin's book, "Foolishness to the Greeks":

"It is the common observation of sociologists of religion that denominationalism is the religious aspect of secularization... The denomination provides a shelter for those who have made the same choice. It is thus in principle unable to confront the state and society as a whole with the claim with which Jesus confronted Pilate - the claim of the truth... It follows that neither a denomination separately nor all the denominations linked together in some kind of federal unity or "reconciled diversity" can be the agents of a missionary confrontation with our culture, for the simple reason that they are themselves the outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual surrender to the ideology of our culture. They cannot confront our culture with the witness of the truth since even for themselves they do not claim to be more than associations of individuals who share the same private opinions."

What do you think? Do denominations represent our culture's individualistic "shopping mall" approach? Keep the conversation going.

Rachel gives a shout out to Les-ball - she misses you lots. I give a shout out to CK. I love you, come soon.

Unite the right?

Well, now that I’ve discussed it with my family and best friend, I suppose I can tell all of you that I made a decision… I’m going to be back at Regent for the next two years, doing a Master of Christian Studies degree. It was a hard decision to make, mostly because I still miss home so much. I don’t know exactly where this will lead, I'm kind of taking it one step at a time. But I’ve been looking at different career ideas to do with the environment, theology, philosophy and science, and I haven’t ruled out being a pastor. The nice thing is that Regent keeps all of these options open for me, and actually helps me toward any and all of them. Mostly I just have this insatiable desire to learn. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be home this summer. Thank you to all of you who were praying for direction for me. (Don't stop).

Partly thanks to Christine’s creative encouragement, I’ve been taking a lot more pictures lately. I wanted to share some with you. I took these ones yesterday, when it was so windy down a the beach that I thought I was back on the prairies. But the prairies don’t get waves like this. Except maybe across the wheat fields.










These next ones require a story. I was walking to the bus stop, looking at the ground, and I noticed a bunch of pink rose petals littering the ground, all over. I said to myself, “Wow, something really romantic must have happened here last night. These Vancouverians must celebrate Valentine's Day a little early.”
Then for some reason I looked up, and I saw there was a rose tree in full bloom (tilt head to see tree). Not just a bush, but a tree. Ha. So much for my romantic musings. I guess these are the kind of things you have to grow to expect in Vancouver in February.

Switching topics completely...Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about something we’re talking about in my Christian Thought and Culture class: Christian unity. It’s a topic that comes up a lot in a transdenominational school. I realized that my concept of Christian unity is really based on my conflict avoidance, and my own ignorance. You see, I’ve never really investigated issues of doctrine. When I was looking for a church here in Vancouver, I mostly made my judgments by looking at style of worship and how “at home” I felt. I think this is how most people evaluate churches today. I didn’t question denominational beliefs, assuming that if I’m in the general Protestant category, it’s all good - we all believe in Jesus, right? But to tell you the truth, I have only a vague idea of what Anglicans believe, and I go to an Anglican church in the evening. Heck, I don’t even know what makes Baptists distinct, and I’ve been one my whole life.

One of my profs said that the continuing disunity in Christianity is sinful. I had never equated it with sin before. It got me thinking about what really divides us. I mean, maybe I feel united to my brothers and sisters in different denominations in some sort of mystical, inner, invisible church sense, but the fact remains that in the world’s eyes, we’re separate. I keep wanting to compare it to politics, which is weird, because I usually hate politics. But I was remembering the whole “unite the right” thing, when the Canadian Alliance and PC parties (who had similar, but not identical platforms) united to become the party now leading our country. I’ve been wondering… would it ever be possible in the Christian church for two denominations to unite? Is there a lofty mission that could cause us, like the right-wing political parties, to look past our differences and join together for greater unity and effectiveness? Like, say, announcing the Kingdom of God? Would this make a difference to the world?

But maybe our differences are too great to overlook. I’m not entirely sure. At any rate, I’m going to look into it. I’m going to start by reading a book about Baptists. I’m going to learn who I am and what separates or distinguishes my beliefs from those of other Christians. As I do, the words of Jesus’ prayer will ring in my ears: “I pray that they will all be one, Father, just as you and I are one – as you are in me, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me… May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me…” (John 17:21-23).

I would love to hear some of your comments on this. Don’t be shy. Am I dreaming? How do you see it?

Rescue 9-1-1?

So Coldplay – incredible. If you want a good description, read Lisa’s blog. I learned a lot about concerts in general. One thing is that you’re sort of expected to stand for the whole thing, which actually wasn’t as hard as I thought. Another thing is that people sing along, out loud, and some can’t sing. Another thing is that people smoke marijuana around you to the point that you feel like you’re smoking it, too. Mostly, Chris Martin and the band are geniuses. My favorite part was the song “Yellow”, when huge yellow balloons fell from the ceiling, and showered people with golden sparkles whenever someone popped one. It was magical. Or maybe it was just the marijuana.

I have more interesting things to talk about. Possibly the best story since chili night. I’ll give you a hook, so you’ll keep reading. It involves calling 9-1-1, but there’s no deaths or serious injuries, so don’t worry.

Ready for the story? Ok. It starts Saturday night. My roommates and I had just finished watching a movie, and we were getting ready for bed. Suddenly I smelled something really funky. I thought maybe it was a match, or maybe my marijuana-infested clothes from the previous night. But it just kept getting stronger. Soon my roommates were also complaining. I was glad it wasn’t just me. After sniffing around everywhere, we concluded it must have been a skunk outside. I felt satisfied with this conclusion, and went to bed.

Fifteen minutes later, Danice burst into my room and said, “It’s gas. We have to get out of here.” I guess her and Bryanna had discovered online that propane can smell a lot like skunk, and after sniffing around more outside, they thought the smell was strongest coming from the vent to the upstairs part of the house. I quickly put my clothes on, thinking about whether I should take anything with me, like my guitar, or my wallet. I remembered from grade 1 that in a fire-related emergency, you’re not supposed to try to take anything with you. So, leaving everything behind, the three of us went outside, and across the street, fully expecting the house to ignite in flames.

As we stood there staring at the house, Bryanna pulled out her cell phone and called 9-1-1. As we waited for the emergency personnel, we discussed the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear, despite her mom’s warnings that she should always have a clean pair on in case she died. Soon we saw the fire truck coming down the road. They pulled around the corner and just sort of stopped in the middle of the street. Wow, I thought to myself, this is so serious that they’re not even going to take the time to park! The guy sort of yelled at us: “I can smell it from here. It’s a skunk. You dumb girls!” Well, he didn’t say the last part but he might as well have said it. So they didn’t even check it out. Or shall I say, we didn’t even get to check them out? No, I shall not say that.

So we re-entered our skunksmell house. The night didn’t end there – the skunk incident was closely followed by a burglar incident. We heard creeping footsteps upstairs where our landlords live, and our landlords were in Palm Springs. We were so worked up at that point, convinced that somehow, by skunk, by gas, or by burglar, we were all going to die that night. We almost called 9-1-1 again. Luckily, I had the good sense to go outside and look through the upstairs window – it was just Eugenie. You know, the roommate who got married. False alarm number 2. So we are left with two near-exciting experiences. And good blogging material.

Really, there’s more real exciting experiences happening in Saskatoon. Real live emergencies, not pretend ones. Just ask my sister, who has shingles, or my brother, who got punched and kicked by masked hoodlums.

Wait a minute, one thing did happen. I learned how to make a list on my blog of links to other people’s blogs. And a site meter. (Thanks, Bryanna). So check em out.

I leave you with a beautiful picture of what happens when your landlords go to Palm Springs right after Halloween and none of the roommates want to take responsibility for disposing of their pumpkin. Enjoy!

The Melba Conspiracy

I bet some of you are wondering about Melba, the mouse. I am unhappy to inform you that she is alive and well, despite the application of new mouse hunting tactics at our house. We now have four mousetraps set in our basement. The whole house smells of bacon, because that is our bait. These are the biggest mousetraps I’ve ever seen. They’re almost as big as my foot, which would probably be seriously injured if I happen to step on one accidentally. We also have a little device that emits ultra-high-pitch sound waves to make mouse ears hurt. And we stuffed the hole in the wall with steel wool, which mice apparently don’t care for.

Every morning I creep out of my room, nervously eyeing the traps, sure that this time, we’ve caught her. What do I find? She has once again chewed through the tape over the hole in the wall, and managed to push aside the steel wool. What’s more, there always seems to be a little less bacon on the traps, almost as if she’s cleverly nibbling away at it without tripping the traps. She’s the craftiest mouse I’ve ever seen. Although I’ve personally never seen her.

This brings me to my theory. What if this is all an elaborate scheme dreamt up by Danice and Bryanna? After all, they’re the only ones who have allegedly seen Melba. Mouse poop would be fairly easy to imitate and spread around the house when I’m away. They could sneak into the living room in the middle of the night and cut holes in the tape. With what motive, you ask? Well, perhaps it’s a cruel form of roommate initiation. They want to see how easily tricked I am. Maybe they’re testing my true love for nature by plaguing me with one of the most disliked creatures. Or maybe it was all so that they could plant the supposed ultrasonic emitter, which is actually some sort of spy gear. It might have something to do with the faked moon landing, or World War Three and the impending end of the world. I’ll keep you posted.

In other news, my cold is getting better. I’m feeling a little more settled. The Coldplay concert is the day after tomorrow (on my mom’s birthday!). The sun comes out once in a while. I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life. Thanks for your advice and prayers!

Holla back

So I’m back in the Van. Back to the Rock, back to the rain, back to the Regent.

Since I got back, I’ve been feeling pretty sorry for myself. This self-centered tendency is closely followed by the tendency to self-analyze. As I self-analyze, I realize that many factors play into this.

One, I got really settled at home and then I had to leave everybody again. And I feel even more homesick now than I did in September. Roommates and Regent friends aren’t the same as my best friend and my siblings and parents. They’re not supposed to be. But it’s a difficult adjustment.

Two, I got a cold the day I arrived here, and it’s only worsened since.

Three, it’s been raining here. So much that they almost broke a record for consecutive rainy days. Then it stopped. For one day. And started again the very next day, my first day here. I think I prefer snow.

But today, the rain stopped for a while, and I finally made it down to the Rock. I met Martin and Solomon, two of my old friends, and two new friends, some Goldeneye ducks (Christine has cleverly named them Bond, James Bond).

More importantly, it gave me the chance to reflect on a deeper reason for feeling sorry for myself. I think I haven’t been feeling as wanted as I did in Saskatoon. When I was in Saskatoon, everyone wanted to see me, mostly because I had been gone and I was back. I went for coffee and talked with a bunch of people. Here, everyone has been gone and come back. No one is specialler than anyone else. No one actually uses the word specialler. There’s no special welcome week like there was in September, and one hundred students aren’t introducing themselves to me. It’s back to being just another student. Even if I am a student with a cold.

So I realized that that's a pretty dumb reason to feel bad - I know I'm still loved and wanted in both places. On top of it all, I’m being reminded in all sorts of ways that it’s not really about me. Despite what I told my prayer group this morning, the universe is not Bethocentric. It doesn’t revolve around me. Which doesn’t mean, however, that I’m not indispensable in the grand scheme of things. As my CTC prof reminded me, we’re each an essential part of a much larger story, and everything in our lives somehow fits into it. Maybe even my cold. After all, colds really aren’t the end of the world, you know. And everything is a little brighter when you buy the most expensive, softest, nose-hugging Kleenexes in the very nicest box. (Thanks, Chris, for the idea).

But yes, you may still feel sorry for me because I have a cold. Poor Beth. :)

mostly a list and a request

I lied. I did not Christmas blog. I did not even New Years blog. I’ve generally been thin on blogging. They have been sparse. I have been having a wonderful break, too wonderful to blog. Now it’s winding down, and the blogging bug bites again. I’ll start with a recap of highlights from the last few weeks (in no particular order), and some pictures…

- my sister Sarah getting home from India!
- overdosing on Dutch Blitz (this is a card game)
- coffees and lunches and sleepovers with friends
- Narnia and Harry Potter (and many other movies)
- watersliding with Christine and Dan
- watching Baliwood movies with Sarah
- us three sisters getting our hair cut and looking HOT (see picture)
- playing piano at Erik and Yuriko’s wedding on New Year’s Eve
- great talks and encouragement from Rachel
- finishing “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” and starting “Angels and Demons”
- trying on Sarah’s sari
- crazy sleepover with my small group girls (see picture)
- the two Christmas Eve candlelight services
- hearing my dad preach again
- discovering that my brother Daniel can sing
- playing piano to Christine’s singing again, and playing our famous duets.
- taking pictures of beautiful Saskatoon with Christine (I’ve included a couple)
- learning about Superman, thanks to Don
- learning about myself, thanks to Christine and Rachel.
- a very different, and very special Christmas day on the 28th, my first time not opening presents in the morning
- answering two common questions from Saskatoon friends and acquaintances: I have found neither a husband, nor a specific direction for my life so far at Regent.
- hearing from some of my American extended family members
- eating Christmas dinner with Christine’s family, and realizing what a different dynamic there is when there are three brothers and one sister, instead of the other way around!
- putting more thought into what to do with my life, and more specifically, the summer
- not having to cook
- buying pants without holes in them
- remembering how to drive, especially on Saskatoon’s icy streets
- Christine forcing me to drive on Saskatoon’s icy (not to mention blizzardy and deer-infested) streets
- doing puzzles with Mom and Daniel, and, during a brief and uncharacteristic blitz, with Rachel.
- seeing Rachel in her children’s play, playing the part of a 9 year old boy.
- playing Daniel’s Indian drum, Riverdance style.

I went for a drive with Christine last night (on Saskatoon’s icy, blizzardy… you get the point). Luckily, we survived, and we even had a great conversation. Isn’t driving great for conversations? I think it’s because you’re both facing forward and there’s no awkward silences – silences are sort of OK. Anyway, we talked about our friendship (which was incredible) but also about our future dreams. For the first time, I shared out loud an idea I had about what to do with my life, one that I’ve never seen as feasible, but, thanks to her encouragement and challenge, I’m reconsidering. It’s very scary and I’ve been second-guessing myself all day. But at least I’ve put it into words. I’m not going to tell you what it is. But I do want to continue the conversation. Once again I want to ask you to participate in this, if you’d like. Please, even if you've never left a comment before, this is your chance to help me, and give it a try. Here are your options:

- Leave me a comment (or if you prefer, send me an e-mail) with something you could see me doing with my life, vocationally, from what you know of me. This is not a test of how well you know me – it’s more like a brainstorming session. I need help in solidifying who I am and what my passions are. I'd love it if God used your input to spark my imagination and help me consider things I haven't thought of yet.

- If you know my best friend Christine or my sister Rachel, would you please also leave a similar comment about what you see them as being capable of doing vocationally. They haven’t asked me to do this, but both of them are asking the same questions I am, and I’m sure they’d be interested in hearing your ideas too.

- If you prefer, just leave me a comment or e-mail offering me any advice you might have in this area. Maybe, if you are a grown-up, or just ahead of the game, you could let me know how God led you to choose a particular area of work. Anything you can offer me.

My last few days in Saskatoon will mostly consist of coffee (although I don’t drink coffee), trying to appreciate my family and friends as much as possible before I go, and practicing with the boys for Boycott Scott’s CD Release concert at the Bassment. If you live in Saskatoon, you’d better be there. Friday the 13th.

So that’s it; I’ll post again once I’m in Vancouver. I’m looking forward to getting back into a routine again, and I’m excited about my classes and seeing Regent friends. But it’s sure going to be tough to leave here. I'm keenly aware of how much I love everyone I've seen in the last few weeks.

Danice, I know I’m supposed to be the responsible roommate, but I need to remind you that I forgot my keys to our house. So leave a door open for me on Sunday night, please and thank you.

Annie and Augustine.

I am home!

Christine, Navy Dan, Daniel and Rachel met me at the airport with bells on. Literally. And Bacardi, since I’m a drinker now. Since then, I’ve picked up both of my parents from the airport. Our family is slowly piecing itself back together again. We await my sister, Sarah, who will return from India on the 28th, which has become our family’s Christmas Day this year.

I’ve been spending most of my time with friends and family, going to concerts and services and hotels and movie theatres and shopping malls, and preparing for the Christmas Eve services. It surprised me how quickly I slipped back into the familiarity of this setting. I wish I could keep appreciating this place and these people every moment of the day, remembering how much I missed all of them. I need to work at that. It just feels too much like normal. It’s the most natural thing in the world to wake up and come downstairs and eat breakfast with my family, to go hang out with Chris for the day. Maybe that’s a good thing. But just a few weeks ago, I was desperate for it, I would have given anything for it. So I don’t want to take any of it for granted. Especially because there is a mouse back in Vancouver waiting for me, who has somehow chewed up a sticky trap. Can you believe it? What a genius, that Melba.

Tonight some friends of mine planned a second annual caroling at the hospital trip. It was tons of fun, we sounded superb, and we made a lot of people cry. I hope the crying was a good, nostalgic, appreciative crying and not a “you sound so bad I can’t stand it” crying. But I think it was the first type. Because we even had parts and different times of entry in “O Holy Night”, thanks to Cam’s coordination and clever cueing.

Speaking of crying, perhaps I should tell you a rather embarrassing story from the plane ride here. I had this excellent idea to do nothing on the plane ride, as a sort of object lesson in waiting, in the spirit of Advent. Well we were stuck on the runway for quite a while, and the whole “waiting” thing was getting really old. So I pulled out “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” and started reading. I have been reading this book ever so slowly, and I’m not sure why, because it’s seriously my favorite book ever written. Ever read by me. Annie Dillard says everything profound I’ve ever thought about while studying science or enjoying the outdoors, and she’s more eloquent than my thoughts are. And she uses better examples than my thoughts do. She’s like a 100x better version of bioBeth.

Anyway, the big heavy metal plane finally lifted into the air, an experience that blows away my logic every time. I was reading a chapter on “Intricacy,” in which she talks about how the average caterpillar has 228 separate muscles in its head. She talks about the 2 million glomeruli we have in our kidneys: “I made them all myself, without the least effort. They’re undoubtedly my finest work.” Mostly what hit me was when she talked about the jaggedness of our planet, how a globe with bumps on it to show the mountains can’t begin to show the number of trees on each of those mountains, or the thousands of needles on those trees and the millions of little furrows on the bark of one tree. I looked out the plane window at the mountains all submerged in clouds, with clouds lapping up on them like the water around my Rock in Vancouver, and I tried to let all of that intricacy and complexity sink in. “Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery… What is man, that thou art mindful of him? This is where the great modern religions are so unthinkably radical: the love of God!” This washed over me so overwhelmingly that it made me cry, right there in the airplane. People were staring. I couldn’t stop. I felt desperate to worship this maddeningly incredible God.

Blame it on hormones, or on the emotional highs and lows of returning home, but I think that plane was some sort of a sanctuary right then – I really felt like I was meeting with a real and frighteningly transcendent, yet ultimately loving God, more powerfully than I usually do in a given worship service. Perhaps I was closer to God at that high altitude. I don’t know. What’s more, it has happened more than once; just when everything in me wants to worship, I find myself in a weird public setting. It happened when I went to see Narnia the other night. During the Stone Table part, it overwhelmed me again. It would have been enough for God to create all of that pine needle intricacy for me to discover and enjoy. But He went so much further, sacrificing Himself painfully for me, Beth, one among so many, one bundle of cells among all this detail.

Christmas seems like a weird time to be thinking about Easter, but maybe it’s not. Loren Wilkenson, one of my profs, shared this paradox-rich quote with our class on our last day of school; it’s from one of Augustine’s Christmas sermons.

Man's Maker was made man,
that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother's breasts;
that the Bread might be hungry,
the Fountain thirst,
the Light sleep,
the Way be tired from the journey;
that the Truth might be accused by false witnesses,
the Judge of the living and the dead be judged by a mortal judge,
Justice be sentenced by the unjust,
the Teacher be beaten with whips,
the Vine be crowned with thorns,
the Foundation be suspended on wood;
that Strength might be weak,
that He who makes well might be wounded,
that Life might die.

Well, I’ll leave you with that for now. Perhaps I will post a Christmas post in the next couple days, with special returning guest Christine Kulyk, and a lot more pictures. (that’s Christmas post as in blog post, not as in the Christmas post which stands in my Vancouver house). Be sure to tune in.

The 10 lists of Christmas

Hi!

Thank you for all of your prayers and e-mails. I really don’t know if I could have gotten through this past week so well without them. My parents are still in Kentucky with my grandma, they will be home soon after me. I’m mostly sad I didn’t know my grandpa better, since he lived so far away, and sad for my mom and my grandma, who are the most sad. It was a hard thing to have in the back and the front of my mind during finals. I got through all four of them, though, yesterday and today, and I even learned a thing or two, thanks to some crucial words of wisdom from Christine. If ever you need some perspective on your silly perfectionism, she’s your man. Girl. Sorry. I’m rather giddy with excitement of being done and going home and Christmas. I have run the gauntlet. It’s time to relax.

In one day and two nights, I will be home. I thought, for those of you in icy Saskatoon, I would give you a run-down of some things that might be different about me, that may have changed since I left, just so you’re forewarned. Man, do I ever like lists. What does that say about me? Does anyone know? I always make to-do lists, and sometimes I add things I’ve already accomplished just so I have the satisfaction of crossing them off. Is this psychotic? Does anyone else do this?

Without any further ado...

1. My hair looks like a mop on my head. I have not cut it in a very long while. In fact, not since I left. I didn’t want to pay for it. I didn’t want to go about the risky business of trying out a new hairdresser. I didn’t want to get my roommates to cut it with our kitchen scissors. Mostly, I was lazy. I plan to have this dealt with asap, in Saskatoon. Dawn, come back from London!

2. I have grown unaccustomed to eating at a table. Danice and I usually eat on the couch, or on the floor. Or standing up. Or we dance around the table. I have also become more accustomed to spicy, Danice-y food. Although I still sweat when I eat her curry and am forced to strip off layers of clothing.

3. I have grown very blasé when it comes to mice. Mice are a fact of life, I’ve decided. They chew through packing tape when you try to cover the hole in the wall. They set off two traps in the night, eat the bait and walk off unscathed. They give you the willies. But they’re really ok. I can deal with them for two more nights. Then I’m outta here, and the exterminator will pay us a friendly neighborhood visit.

4. I got seven piercings and a rather conspicuous tattoo. Ha. Just checking to see if you guys are still with me. No, really, I did. Yeah, they're pretty sweet. Actually, I didn’t. Just kidding. Or am I? No, I’m seriously joking. Although… never mind.

5. Fiiiive golden rings! Sorry, a little Christmas spirit slipping through.

6. I’m a drinker. I drank a whole beer one night. Just to say I did it. It was a Corona. It was a waste of a Corona. Man, beer is so gross. I really hate the taste of it. It makes me want to throw things in disgust. No matter what Danice may try to tell you about my secret beer love.

7. My brain is stuffed with random bits of 1500 years of Christian history, 2000 years of spirituality, Hebrew vocabulary and possible dates and authors of all books of the Old Testament, which I fear will slowly leak out my ears as I sit around at home. I tried stuffing my ears with cotton to prevent information seepage, but it got all caught up in several of my larger piercings. You know, the big wooden pegs they stick through your ears – that’s what I have. For real. Not even joking. Uh huh.

8. I let fancy Regent words slip out in everyday conversation sometimes. Such as: ethos, community, postmodern, contemplative, eschatological, hermeneutical, orthodox, theolog-errific, and God. And “fodder”.

9. I have become a Saskatoon and general Prairie defender. I uphold the cause of the flatlands. I make known to the general public the value of living in such a desolate place. I stand strong and firm with my fellow Saskatchewanians here at Regent. May the combines roll on, let the temperature plummet, and bring on the sky.

10. On a more serious note, I love God more. I was hoping that would happen. I love my Bible like the dickens. I love you all so much more than I ever have. Christine, Rachel, Daniel, Sarah, Mom, Dad, Jordan, Don, Jayson, Alexa, Rochelle, Robin, Sherri, Evan, Anna, Carie, Scott, Daniel, Cory, all the cell group girls, Rosemary, Denise, Christine’s mom, and anyone else in Saskatoon who is reading this – I can’t wait to talk to you. The prospect of seeing some of you the day after tomorrow makes me want to cry.

And to those of you who are reading this from Vancouver – I’ll miss you! See you in a month. Keep checking – I’ll try to update the blog once in a while with Saskatoon pictures whilst at home. Merry Christmas!

Please pray.

Hey,

My grandpa died today. The next little while is going to be rough for my family. If you could take a minute to pray for us, especially my Mom and my grandma in Kentucky, I would really appreciate it.

Thanks.