Ouch! ^^ Who IS that girl?!

I was once a fat kid. Actually, I was a fairly fat young adult too. If you’re a regular reader you know I have written about my weight struggles before. This is nothing new.

On that post ^ I showed some photos from my original goal weight… the weight I was when I married Dave. What I didn’t show you was the before pic. So here it is.

Crazy huh? That was me at about 26 years of age in 2001 or early 2002.

So every day I live my life knowing that I once made it from that “before” pic to my goal weight – some 60 lbs less than that. I know how to do this.

It’s not easy, but I’m doing it again.

Now I know what you’re thinking… I know that in that other post I wrote I said I was ready to take the weight off again… and I know that was early in 2009. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to be ready. But the amount of commitment required to make such a drastic life change is something that either comes or it doesn’t. No amount of wanting it will make it so. You have to not only want it, but be ready and willing to do what’s needed to make it happen. As it turned out, it wasn’t long after I wrote that post that I found out we were expecting Mini-Boy; the timing just wasn’t right for me.

In January of this year, however, I decided it was time to get things going again. No, it wasn’t a New Year’s resolution, but just an acceptance that I’m not getting any younger and if I’m going to do this, I should do it soon.

I’ll be 37 this summer.

Thirty seven is really, REALLY close to 40. I want to roll into my 40s in the best shape of my life. I want to be in better shape than I was after losing 60 lbs and running my first Half Marathon in 2003. I don’t want to age gracefully. I want to grow stronger. I want my body to function as it was designed to. I want it to keep working for a really long time. I want to teach my kids to enjoy sports and revel in their own strength. I want to see my muscles. I want the Mack girls to learn that it’s better to be strong than to be skinny; it’s better to be confident in who you are than to aim for some unattainable perfection.

I still have goals. Lofty ones too.

So this year I’m back to running and I’m back to Weight Watchers Online. I’ve signed up for the SeaWheeze Lululemon Half Marathon in August and I’m planning to run the Seek The Peak Relay (Solo) at Grouse Mountain in June. I think I’m also going to take a stab at a new 10km PR at the Vancouver Sun Run in a couple of weeks. Even Big Mack is on board with me and will run his first 5km race in Summerland in June!

Because I’m a little older and a little wiser than I was when I was running pre-kids, I’ve decided to do a Half Marathon training program that only includes 3 runs/week and two days of cross training. I’ve been taking a High Intensity Interval Training type class from Jorg Mardian of Mardian in Motion since December. I can’t believe the awesome results I’m seeing from that class. I also think it’s having an amazing impact on my running too.

In fact, I’m loving the interval training so much, Big Mack and I decided to buy a video series to do at home when we can’t get to Jorg’s class. It’s called Insanity by Beachbody. We’ve just just about completed a home renovation project to finish our basement to add a 6th bedroom (so all the kids have their own rooms) and a home gym. I can’t wait to get it all set up and be able to really stay consistent with my training.

So how am I doing so far? In the last 10 weeks I have:

• Lost 14 lbs in total
• Lost 3 1/2″ off my waist
• Lost 2″ off my hips
• Lost 3″ off my bust
• Lost 2 dress sizes
• Run out of holes on my belt
• Run my first sub-1hr 10km since 2003

Last week I ran 27km, took 3 Interval Training Classes and went snowboarding once.

Now, I still have about 20 lbs to lose but I’m only about 7 lbs over where I was when I ran my first half marathon in 2003. This year, I’m hoping to be leaner by the time the race rolls around and I’m hoping to beat my time of 2:08:02. I know I’m almost 10 years older, but I think I can still do it.

Who knows? Maybe I’m crazy…

On the diet front, Big Mack and I are making a concerted effort to eat a clean diet. I first got excited about this concept when I read Jillian Michaels’ book Master Your Metabolism and wrote a little about my clean eating efforts here. I think this is the key. As much as I love the flexibility with Weight Watchers to be able to eat a doughnut every now and again, I know the refined foods, the GMOs, the corn products, the additives and garbage that our bodies consider foreign are not helping my efforts. I think giving up this stuff and eating clean will never come to a place of perfection, but a simple awareness is a huge start.

I really feel like this is a re-birth for me. I’m so excited about my upcoming races and the training in the months ahead. I also have my sights set on running the Tough Mudder… maybe in 2013. Now THAT would be insanity.

Maybe I am crazy, but crazy suits me just fine! I say set lofty goals. I say dream big and find a way to go after what you want to achieve. Prove it to yourself that you can do it! You’ll never know what’s possible until you push beyond what’s comfortable. I feel very blessed to have had some of the opportunities I have in this life – military training, skydiving, black belt testing etc. – because they have given me the confidence to know I can survive a whole lot of stuff and come out stronger on the other side.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me – Phil 4:13 NKJV

Photo: al.herrmann on Flickr

Today I tweeted “Run or nap?” I was not disappointed with the advice given me.

So I ran.

I’ve written before about my love of running, but since moving to Oliver I’ve been sort of on-again-off-again with the training. I ran a bit early on when I moved here last April, but then it got hot and I stopped… and then I ran a little more in the fall and then I got sick, and then I went to Mexico (I know, excuses excuses) and then it got cold.

I’m not used to cold.

So then February rolled around and a friend of mine encouraged me to set a goal – a mighty lofty one at that – to run the SeaWheeze Lululemon Half Marathon on August 11th. And I figured, why not? On any given day I can pull off about 10km… what’s another 11?! Piece of cake! Uh… well, something like that.

Okay I’m finding it a little daunting and I’m doubting my ability to do this just a touch, but I like a good challenge and I’ve already paid the bucks to register.

So there.

In other running-related news, Big Mack gave me a pair of Vibram Five Finger Bikila shoes for Valentine’s day. I’ve been eyeing these up for some time so I’m super excited to take them out for a spin. The weather here hasn’t been great for the last couple days. My running routes have quite a bit of mud and gravel left over from the latest snowfall so I’m waiting for the right opportunity to break them in. In the meantime, though, I decided to get started on fixing my running stance to make running in minimalist shoes bearable.

I’m a heel striker.

There, I said it. If I keep running the way I have been in these Bikilas I’m going to hurt myself I’m sure… especially if I’m heading into distances that will prepare me for a half marathon. So today I decided to try out more of a mid-foot strike while running… just to see what it feels like. Wow. I may be a touch sore tomorrow.

I ran about 8 km and, while I slipped back into my natural form a few times, I did make a concerted effort to land each stride sort of flat, more on the ball than the heel. Here are my observations about the mid-foot strike versus the heel strike:

• I had to shorten my stride because I couldn’t reach out as far to the front with each step
• The shorter stride had me more upright and leaning forward less
• The result of being more vertical was that there was more of an extension of the hip flexor with each stride
• There was also more of a push backward with the back leg rather than down, which worked the top of the glutes more like a rear leg lift would
• I could no longer rely on my hamstrings and my glutes to do the hard work
• The work shifted to the quads and the calf muscles
• There was less work in the contraction of the hip flexors since they didn’t have to bring the leg up as high since I was already more upright

All in all, I found the experience interesting. It took me almost an hour to do 8km – normally I’d do this in about 50 minutes these days but the shorter stride and focus on my form really caused me to lose speed. I’m not sure how I’m going to feel tomorrow… my quads were tight after this run and that is a rare occurrence for me. My calves don’t feel it yet but it’s only been 4 hours.

So for now I’m working on two goals: 1) being consistent with my running to bring my base mileage to an appropriate level for half marathon training, which will begin in May, and 2) changing up my stance to a mid-foot strike and logging some miles on my Bikilas.

I’m also looking for some interim races to try between now and August 11th, so if you have any good suggestions let me know! And oh yeah… do you like my shoes?!

Photo: miggslives on Flickr

You know how when you’re starting to feel kind of proud of yourself it’s like perfect ripe timing to be totally schooled? Yeah, it was like that.

The day was going so well.

Today was my first day without Big Mack but with all 5 kids for the entire afternoon from the school pickup through bedtime. So like any new and somewhat frightened step-mom I think, “Ice cream and some kind of park ought to do it, right?” So I packed up the Evans boys and headed to the school to pick up the Mack kids at the appointed time. I was greeted with smiles and a request for another friend to join us… no problem. She didn’t have to be home so what was one more? After all, I wouldn’t want an empty seat in my vehicle, would I? That would just be silly. Pack ‘em in I say.

So I took the 6 kids, including one in a stroller, to a very cramped, very chaotic ice cream shop… like a corner grocery store that seems to have cornered the market on kid-goodness: ice cream, candy, slushies etc. These guys, in fact, even mix ice cream and slushy together to create a treat highly coveted by children everywhere I’m sure. Once all 6 were happily licking away we were off to the local park that is both a playground and a beach – the best of both worlds and a place I had yet to visit. I was obviously feeling particularly cocky by this point as evidenced by my comfort with a lack of prior reconnaissance of the area. All the kids were playing nicely though; it was like a miracle was taking place. Miss Mack and her friend were doing typical pre-teen stuff: alternating between deep conversation on the swings to joining in with the younger kids at the water’s edge; and the 3 middle kids were playing nicely with mini-boy as he tiptoed into the water and hucked handfuls of wet sand everywhere. There was only a little complaining about our lack of preparedness for the beach; it was an impromptu visit after all so no one had swim suits, towels or sand toys but we made do and any complaining was so minor it was barely worth mentioning.

No one is crying and all are enjoying themselves. WIN!

They even behaved when I said it was time to go (a blessing from God Himself, no doubt, who knew what was coming up). We all piled back in to the big family wagon and made our way home… or rather, most of the way home.

And then it happened.

I could see it coming and I heard the gasps from the back seats. It was awful. There was a frenzy. I just knew when I saw the array of assorted barbecues, gardening tools and old dishes that this would be something like a monkey party with stuff flying everywhere. It was like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion and I was totally powerless to stop it. I pulled up the vehicle outside the house and the kids piled out with lightning speed.

“We’re going to the garage sale!” “I have my own money!” “Hey I don’t have any money *cries*!” “Wait for me!” “Move your bag I can’t get out!” “I want to see what they have too!” “We’re going to buy stuff!”

It was awful.

I stared, hopeless, as the 4 older kids trotted off towards the place where old lawnmowers went to die as I bid farewell to the friend from across the street who joined us for the afternoon. Knowing full well I had to care for mini-boy and make dinner (not to mention that I think the Mack kids sense my apprehension with my new role in their lives and know how to play me ever so subtly), they knew all too well I was indeed powerless against their schemes. In a moment they were gone. No one warned me about this.

Why didn’t anyone warn me?!

I had no idea how bad it could be. I had no idea they had any money!! Who gave these kids money?! I’m convinced the neighbour gave them half of the stuff they brought home. Not only one but TWO of the children bought new tool boxes for Big Mack who, incidentally, already has about six tool boxes. Now he’s a handy do-it-yourself kind of guy, but that steel box that looks like a 1967 workman’s lunch kit sure is going to cramp his style. Then there was this awesome joy stick thing that can be used to play games on the computer. “Which games?” I asked. “Any game.” I was told.

Oh but it gets better.

Mini-man bought a remote control. “It just needs batteries,” he tells me. So now if I want to turn on the NOTHING it came with I will have no trouble doing so. How thoughtful. And I know we’ll all get a lot of use out of that NBA game for PC they brought home. Oh yeah, and there were baseball cards… or was it hockey cards, or basketball. Honestly I don’t care. I found myself praying: “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”

I find myself with my own childhood flashing before my eyes and a sudden appreciation for my dad and his tempered reaction to my own awesome garage sale finds. In fact, I’m a little remorseful if I’m being honest. Sorry dad. I had NO IDEA.

So much for that commitment Big Mack and I just made to stop buying more stuff. I think we forgot to pass on the memo.

And now I’m sitting, and looking around at the boxes of stuff I still have to unpack and find homes for and I find myself thinking, “We should have a garage sale.”

Photo: mumchancegaloot on Flickr

I have been writing music for quite some time now, meeting with a group of friends and collaborating to create. I suppose it’s almost shameful to say it’s been nearly 3 years that I’ve been doing this because I have yet to really share anything of what I’ve written with even my friends let alone the public at large. It’s just that doing so feels like that dream… the one where you’re at school and you realize you’ve forgotten to put any clothes on at all. So there you are standing stark naked in front of hundreds of children laughing at you. Yeah… I’ve had that dream.

But this has been a long time in the making.

Long before I became a Christian I was drawn to gospel-centred music. I went to a Christian camp when I was 12 years old; it’s where I first heard the gospel. I’d never been to a church before and had no idea what they were talking about to be honest. But I did love the music. And there was a guy at this camp that had recorded a tape of his own original Christian music and I bought it. I left there listening to it day in and day out… the messages were beautiful.

When I was 16 I worked a part time job with a Christian woman who always played Christian music in our work area – again, I loved it. She turned me on to Amy Grant. Actually, I came to love Amy Grant’s Christmas tape (yes, dating myself I know… what are tapes?!) and listened to it every Christmas for years to come. In fact, any time I heard gospel music I couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

Something about it just captivated me… actually it continues to captivate me.

When I came to faith at the beginning of 2005 I found myself in a very vibrant church. From the moment I walked in the first time, the music spoke right into my heart and I knew I’d come to the right place. Within 6 months I was asked to join the music ministry there and sing with one of the worship bands and I’ve been so blessed. I’ve also made some amazing friends who have become my collaborators over the last few years now.

I think it was late 2008 when I started meeting every other week at a friend’s house to write with 3 friends. It became our de facto home group church meeting – we would have coffee and cookies, talk about stuff, create some music and pray together. These guys have become a huge part of my life… like brothers to me.

See… I love to write music. I get inspired with lyrics and melodies and can hear in my head what chords I want to put to them to an extent, but my musical background is 25 years of playing the trumpet. That’s not exactly conducive to writing contemporary pop music though I think it lends itself well to hearing all the melodies, harmonies and counter-melodies all swirling around in my head at the same time. My piano skills are limited to the 5 years of lessons I took when I was 5 years old and I can’t play the guitar to save my life. And so my co-writers bring life to my lyrics and my melodies by weaving the fabric of the song together underneath them.

But it’s the idea of sharing what I’ve written that makes me want to throw up just a little; it feels so vulnerable.

At this very moment my friends, Joe and Randy, are in the process of recording some of the songs we’ve co-written. I write most of the lyrics and melodies and they create the music that brings them to life. When I got married and moved away from my collaborators I didn’t want all our efforts to simply vanish into the history of our individual stories; I wanted to keep a record of the time we’d shared and record some of what we created in order to share our art with our friends and our church family. After all, we all felt like God was calling us to create these songs together… like it was what we were meant to be doing with our lives. At the same time, the prospect of sharing this stuff with anyone else is like bearing my very soul to the wolves. It feels like I’m standing naked in front of hundreds of laughing school children.

When you create any kind of art – writing, music, visual art etc. – it’s so very personal that the thought of receiving critique, or worse – ridicule – makes death feel welcome. At least it does for me. But here I go. There will be 5 songs coming on the EP currently in progress and a new draft I’ve shared on my Michelle Evans Music MySpace Page called “Why did He”, which is my first collaboration with Big Mack.

If you enjoy them, awesome. If you don’t, they weren’t written for you. I’m okay either way… or at least, I will be.

Photo: ahhyeah on Flickr

I used to be the mom that was scared to death to stay home with my one child but would much rather be at work where life is much, MUCH easier. Yep. That was me.

Well here I am now with two kids home full time and as many as five children in my home at any one time and it’s starting to look a lot like fun and a lot like chaos at the very same time. Planning activities as a family can be a trick, though. I am ever so grateful that Big Mack has a job that has a 4 on 4 off schedule so he’s home half the time.

The other day we found ourselves out enjoying a sunny day after the three oldest kids got out of school. We picked them up from school and went to the little path that runs alongside the river channel between Vasseau Lake and Osoyoos Lake… it’s a beautiful paved path that runs for about 20-30km or so where anyone can go for a walk, a jog, a bike ride etc. Well it was a simple plan: the kids would ride bikes and Big Mack and I would run with the smallest in a jogging stroller.

Sounds easy, right?

Well we managed to get out the door with the two smaller kids, appropriate clothing, diapers, a bottle of juice and a change of clothes for the toddler, nutritious snacks, all necessary bikes with helmets, jackets in case the wind picks up, lots of water and one jogging stroller. Yeah… you know what happens when you have a family of 7 to get out to enjoy an afternoon? You have to employ the use of a support vehicle.

Yep. That’s right.

It’s a good thing Big Mack has a minivan with removable seats. We’re able to pile all the kids into one vehicle and use the other as a support vehicle with all our gear. No, I’m not kidding and we will no doubt have to employ this strategy if we ever get up the nerve to take all these kids on a camping trip.

But a good time was had by all… Mini-Boy got soaked playing in the puddle at the bottom of the slide that was left over from last night’s rain and Mini-Man lost one of his training wheels and was SUPER bummed. But the other two enjoyed about a half hour of bike riding and all celebrated a job well done with a nice romp in the playground.

All in all I’m starting to enjoy having a large family. The house is most certainly in more of a state of disarray when everyone is here, but it sure is fun to see all the kids playing together. Having said that, I think our next vehicle will be a bus.

Photo: Britannia Willes-Smythe

A year.

It’s a long time. It’s a short time. Some things in this life seem to make time irrelevant. I feel almost as if I’ve experienced more in the last year of my life than I did in the 35 leading up to it. I know that’s not true. But I have grown and changed so much in the last year that I almost don’t recognize myself. And if I’m being honest, I like who I have become far more than the girl I was this time last year.

It’s been almost a year since Dave died.

It will be a year one week from tomorrow but I wanted to post this now… I’m not sure why. It’s not that I don’t want to acknowledge the actual anniversary of his death, it’s just that I think I want that day to just exist inside my head. I don’t want to share it with people. I don’t want to immortalize any date on the calendar for sorrow. It’s not the date of his death that should be remembered… it was the years he lived on this earth that made all the difference to those who knew him and to those he left behind.

I’m not sure I can make any sense of what it is I’m trying to say. The corners of my mind are filled with a million thoughts constantly. I’m sitting here watching the snow fall outside my window… it’s glimmering in the light of the street lamp. It’s beautiful. This time last year was very different. The days were warm and sunny. The day he died was beautiful, yet so different from today. I’m reliving the experiences of last year in my mind as I get ready to celebrate Mini-Man’s birthday once again. So many days come to mind: the day he died – I can still see and hear his friend clearly as he delivered the news through his own sobs… and telling his mom – I’m not sure I’ll ever speak words again that will impact someone so much; going to church the next morning – there’s no where else I wanted to be; meeting with the police at the accident site – fixating on the details and going over and over them in my head for weeks to follow; the memorial service – I still think Dave would have loved it; celebrating Mini-Man’s 4th birthday just 10 days after his dad died. I barely even remember it… I’m grateful to those who braved seeing me in order to help my son feel normal on his special day.

If you had asked me on this day last year where I thought I’d be a year from then, my answer would have been so vastly different from where I find myself now. I can say now, with all honesty, I’m amazed and excited and hopeful about where God is taking me.

March 6th is the anniversary of Dave’s death. April 2nd I’m getting married to Big Mack. I hate that Dave died. I love being with someone I have so much in common with. I hate that my boys have to know what it’s like to grow up without their dad. I love that I can see the life I was destined for laid out before me. I hate that the perfect nuclear family we both wanted to give our kids was not meant to be. I love the hope that I feel about my new family and our ability to live out God’s perfect redemption story. It’s hard to think all these thoughts at the same time. I’m grateful for heavenly peace. I’m grateful for God’s grace in my heart that has given me the ability to simply think these thoughts and not judge myself for them.

I have never felt love the way I feel it right now.

I used to think I settled when I married Dave. I was so wrong. He was the one who settled. I know that now. He deserved more than I gave him. He deserved to be loved the way he loved me. He loved me with an overflowing heart. I wish I’d loved him more. I wish I’d made him happy. I wish I had been able to relate to him better. I wish I’d been a better wife to him. He was good to me. We were excited about our future together.

I’m glad I see with my new eyes. I’m glad Big Mack is understanding. I’m glad I know what it feels like to love with every corner of my heart. I’m glad my boys will have an amazing dad to look up to. I’m grateful for my beautiful boys. I thank God for them. I thank Dave for them. I’m glad Big Mack is a conversationalist. I’m glad we share so many opinions from doctrine to food choices to humour to parenting style. I was committed to making my marriage with Dave good. I think marriage with Big Mack is going to be easier.

It’s bittersweet watching Mini-Man grow to love Big Mack. It’s beautiful watching Mini-Boy play with Big Mack’s nose and seeing them laugh together. It amazes me how much my heart has grown to make space for the 3 Mack kids. I pray every day that I’ll become a better mom. I pray that I will become more fruitful… patient, kind, gentle, self-controlled… I pray I will be a good step-mom too. I pray I’ll be a better cook.

I believe God has good plans for me. I’ve never stopped believing that. I believe what I say I believe. I believe it with my whole heart. I believe Jesus is the redeemer. I believe Dave is being rewarded in heaven and I believe God still has things for me to do in this life. I believe I’ve experienced everything I have for a purpose. I believe I’m becoming who I am intended to be.

The way I can honour Dave’s life is to love as he did.

With an overflowing heart.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Photo: another sergio on Flickr

I was reading an article the other day about Wal-Mart introducing a new makeup and personal care line for tweens. Yes, tweens. Wal-Mart is bringing in a new line of cosmetics for the 8-12 year old girls of the world.

Last I checked, 8 year old girls were very much little girls… without blemish and with perfectly beautiful features. And last I checked, 12 year old girls should be considering nothing more than a little lip gloss and a hair clip to accessorize in order to express themselves if they so choose. What are we doing to our little girls that we are making them feel like they should be trying to alter the way they look?

WHAT ARE WE DOING TO OUR LITTLE GIRLS?!

I had a conversation with Miss Mack this morning about her belly. Miss Mack is 10 years old – almost 11 – and she told me of two of her other 10 year old girlfriends who sat around comparing their beautiful 10 year old bellies stating how fat they are. She told me a little of how that made her feel.

Again I say it: WHAT ARE WE DOING TO THESE LITTLE GIRLS?!

Why are these little girls contemplating their bellies at all? Why should they need makeup!? Have you ever seen a little girl sit around and talk about her elbows with concern? How about her neck? I’ve written before about my own body issues and how I’m slowly – in my thirties, I’ll add – learning to love my body despite its imperfections. And when I say imperfect I do, in fact, mean downright un-pretty by today’s Hollywood standards. While I am learning to appreciate that my body is just one of the billions of prototypes out there, I’ll admit I sometimes feel like a 10 year old girl on the school ground sitting alongside her little friends comparing their bellies and feeling like there is something drastically wrong with me.

I have a confession to make:

I had an appointment scheduled for December 8th, 2010. I had an appointment to visit one of the top plastic surgeons in Vancouver. I had an appointment to hand over an obscene amount of money to have him slice me from one side to the other, pull all of my skin away from my muscles from my hips to my armpits, suck out fat, cut out skin, lift up my boobs, throw in a little volume and sew me back together so I could recover for two months, all in the name of vanity.

You see, after two babies my body is not perfect. My post-baby body doesn’t look like Heidi Klum’s post-baby body. In fact, my pre-baby body was a ways off of hers if I’m being honest. My post-baby body doesn’t bear the breasts of a 20 year old and my post-baby belly bears the scar of not just one, but two surgical births. And I felt an overwhelming fear when I thought about ever being in a position to share my body’s battle wounds with any man other than the one who helped me create those wounds.

But then I met Miss Mack.

She is beautiful. She is tall and strong and has awesome skin, beautiful eyes and lovely thick hair. She is smart and funny and polite and helpful and curious and adventuresome. And she loves God. How can I sit face to face with her and look into those beautiful 10 year old eyes and tell her how her body is perfect, that she was created in the image of God and that she is absolutely beautiful just the way she is but then go to ridiculous lengths to alter my own appearance? How could I justify it?

I couldn’t. And I can’t. And I won’t. I remember being 10. I remember being teased.

Why are we telling our children there is something wrong with them? What are we doing to our little girls? Why are we allowing TV and fashion mags and the entertainment industry as a whole to determine not just the standard of beauty but our worth?

13 For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
[Psalm 139]

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.
[Genesis 1:27]

So to Miss Mack and every other girl on earth who has ever felt like less than everything she was made to be: You are beautiful. You are just as you were created to be. You were intricately woven… knitted together. We can do what we can do to protect our bodies from ill-health, but what we call imperfections are not imperfections at all! The are simply attributes that make us different from one another. You are one in several billion. You are the only one of you. You are just right. You are unique. You were formed in the image of God. Your worth is not determined by the clarity of your skin, the firmness of your stomach or the colour of your hair. You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

You are loved. Just as you are.

Photo: Grouse Mountain on Flickr

Ahhhhh… finally powder.

See, I haven’t been snowboarding since the season before last. Last season I was pregnant until just after Christmas, recovering from childbirth for 2 months after that and then coping with Dave’s death. So I think the last time I was on the hill was early April 2009.

Wow that feels like a million years ago.

So yesterday my boys were invited to spend the night at their Nona’s house and I had the entire evening to myself. I was pleasantly surprised to find easy parking and no lineups for the Skyride at Grouse Mountain when I got there at about 3:30pm on a Saturday afternoon – the first Saturday of the Christmas break. When I got up top my spirits automatically lifted as I found the white fluffy gift from heaven falling plentifully  at my feet. There’s something about the brightness of the snow and how it seems infinitely drier than rain that makes me feel way better about life.

I strapped in to my brand new 2011 Bataleon Violenza 153 board with K2 Charm bindings… I haven’t enjoyed new gear since 2001 if you can believe. Well with enough snow falling that every run offered new freshies and an awesome new board I felt like I never wanted to leave! This new board rides like a dream – I couldn’t be happier. The visibility was sort of sketchy, though; it was dark and a bit foggy, plus of course it was snowing (not like the photo above)… and my goggles have a dark lens so it was kind of like I was riding with my eyes closed but then maybe that made it more fun.

I’ve got Mini-Man registered for 4 private ski lessons through Grouse Mountain’s Adopt An Instructor program since the procrastinator in me waited to long to get him into Ski Wee group lessons before Christmas. I think I’ll put him in Ski Wee for after Christmas if I get around to it. We’re going to spend New Year’s weekend with Big Mack and his family and we’ll spend at least a day at Mount Baldy where the Macks are season passholders.

I can’t bear the thought of not working in this industry anymore once I move to Oliver; I’m sure I’ll find a way to work something out

Photo: Pete on flickr

It’s been over 8 months now since Dave died and the earth continues to spin; creation is alive all around us. The sun rises and sets; the tides change and people are moving around this earth at a harried pace.

As my kids have grown and changed over that short time, so have I. Where once I was blessed to be able to claim a peace that could come only from God in the midst of one of life’s greatest trials, I can now claim something even better: Joy.

My heart is filled with it.

It’s a very profound experience… losing a loved one. So profound that it can’t really be explained. Sure, I can tell you what I’m thinking and what I’ve experienced and how that has played out in my life but there’s really no way for anyone who hasn’t experienced it to understand it in any tangible way. Even for those who have lost someone close to them, their ability to understand someone else’s similar yet entirely different situation is weak.

Even if you think you understand for a second, it’s gone as quickly as it came.

Losing a spouse is different from losing a child or a parent or a grandparent or a sibling or a friend. And me losing my spouse is different from you losing your spouse. I realized that no one can feel what I’m feeling and it can be a very lonely place to be, really. But what it has done is make me dig in and seek out my peace, my comfort and my purpose in God through my relationship with Jesus Christ.

I know Mini-Man is experiencing his father’s death all on his own and that kills me. The fact that I can’t understand exactly what he’s going through in his little 4 year old head makes me want to cry for him. He will one day grow up and realize he had to go through his own process that will likely take much of his life to fully understand. And while I want to help him in whatever way I can, he will one day realize I have no idea what I’m doing and if what I am doing is even helping. I’m still conflicted about the thought that Mini-Boy won’t even ever remember his dad. Is that worse? Better?

I don’t know.

If there is only one thing I do know, though, it is that this lifetime is about relationships. Nothing more; nothing less. Nothing else matters. Not our jobs, not our possessions, not where we live, not our hobbies, not our cars, our houses, our clothes, our appearance. It’s our relationships, our experiences and our unique gifts and histories that paint a picture of life that we can share with others. It’s about loving and living and sharing and giving and enjoying creation. It’s about being good stewards of what we have and using our experiences to comfort others.

It’s about serving one another.

This life is filled with trial. My story certainly isn’t the worst one out there… people have gone through far worse situations than mine: war, famine, poverty, violence, oppression, abandonment, abuse. I don’t feel sorry for me… never have. God knows the bigger picture. And just because I don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.

And I trust in that bigger picture.

The earth continues to spin. My heart is joyful. God is working out a beautiful story in my life. I am engaged to be married again. I have no explanation or apology for this and I believe with all my heart that it’s part of that bigger picture… God’s plan.

I will write more as thes story continues to unfold.

If you’re new to my blog or have just stumbled upon it through a search engine, you can read all the entries about the death of my husband here.

Photo: hddod on Flickr

I have to admit I’m not at my best first thing in the morning.

Getting up early in the morning was so much more enjoyable before I had kids. I’d get up between 5 and 6am, make coffee, sit around and watch the early news on TV, bumble around the house… have a shower and slowly get ready to face my day.

As any parent knows, however, when you have kids your day is going to get started whether you’re ready for it or not. It usually starts with the sound of a small child’s voice saying, “Hi Mommy!” And I have come to the conclusion that there is one, and only one, very specific thing I can do to make sure each day starts off well:

I must get up before my kids.

See, if I wake up to a little face peering at me – no matter the size of the grin on it – I am usually not in the right head space to get up and be the best mom I can be. Waking up to immediately fulfilling others’ needs even irritates me a little if I’m being honest. I’m just not that selfless. I wish I were. I SO wish I were… it would make those middle-of-the-night crying/barfing/falling-out-of-bed moments that much easier to deal with. However, I am not. So while I am very good in a crisis, fulfilling plain old everyday kid-needs goes so much more smoothly when I’ve had a chance to get my head on straight beforehand.

And so I must get up before my kids; in fact, my best days start at 5:30 am.

My best days start with a cup of way-too-strong coffee from my French press, my backside firmly planted in my favourite corner of my couch and the coffee table pulled close. I get out my bible and a devotional book and put them on the table with my coffee… and I pray. My best prayers usually pour out first thing in the morning before the day has wrapped around me and surrounded me with detail.

I then open up my devotional book to find the day’s scripture passage – I find having a devotional book helps direct my bible reading; I wouldn’t really know where to begin without one. I often find relevance in whatever passage I read. It almost always seems to be on a topic that has either been on my mind or applies to a specific situation I’m currently dealing with. For instance, just this morning I was praying that my life would be a testimony of God’s goodness; that somehow the way I live my life would show evidence of God’s love to those around me. After all, sometimes I think people who know me outside of my church life would have no idea I’m even a Christian, or worse: that they would know I profess to be a spirit-filled follower of Jesus but my actions don’t indicate any love for others. So I pray often hat I would love others in a very genuine and practical way.

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Matthew 22:37-40

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34-35

Then this morning’s reading was from Matthew 5:13-20 on being “Salt and Light” and I was reminded of the commandment to “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven”.

This little morning ritual helps me to get my head wrapped around the most important things each day before I have to selflessly give of myself to my kids. In fact, after spending this short but so meaningful time I usually find I’m more than willing to pour out my love to my family and friends.

It’s funny what just a little mind shift can do. Now if I could just be disciplined enough to go to bed early.