A day in the life...

With the Big House (Littlest Brother, Middle Brother, Oldest Brother, Mom and Papa) gone out West for a huge Scout event (CJ '13, if anyone's interested), David and I are running the farm and overseeing the entire herd.  It means the structure of our day has changed remarkably and pretty much revolves around feeding some creature or another.  Here's a sample:
7:00am - wake up, weigh alpaca babies, feed mosquitoes, feed alpacas, feed mosquitoes, feed the baby alpaca whose mama isn't making enough milk, let alpacas out to pasture if it's not currently pouring rain.
8:30am - retreat from the mosquito invasion, feed the dog, feed the fish, feed Husbandy, feed Wifey, field phone calls and pass messages along.  Check in with the Big House and update them on any major happenings.
9:00/9:30am - Wifey takes her morning nap.  Husbandy either goes to the other farm to help out with chores or does whatever it is Husbandy does.
11:30am/noon - Feed Wifey.  Feed Husbandy if he wants.  Feed baby alpaca whose mama doesn't have enough milk for her.
1:30pm - Miscellaneous household chores, ranging from fencing and pasture maintenance to grocery shopping and school work and everything in between.
4:00pm - Feed Wifey, bring alpacas in from pasture, sort them back into their correct paddocks, feed the alpacas, feed the mosquitoes, feed the baby alpaca who needs a bottle
5:00-7:00pm (timing is flexible) - make and consume dinner of some sort. (ie: Feed Husbandy, and feed Wifey)
8:00pm - feed the baby alpaca, feed the mosquitoes
9:00pm - fall into bed and repeat the next day

Now if we actually had a day that followed that schedule without added adventures, it would be wonderful!  Really, the only thing that stays constant is that I'm feeding something or other all the time!

Fun and Games

I got David a "game cube" for his birthday.  And then promptly beat him at Parcheesi. (He later beat me at Chinese Checkers.)

   David's "fried egg".  Completely lacking any chicken byproducts. ;)

Playing trains with Lukie.

Of course, the guinea pig and cat had to play trains with us too...

A GI-normous adventure

*this post may be slightly graphic at times.  If you've been around preschool boys, you'll be fine*
As some of you may know, last week I was scheduled to have an upper and lower GI series done (for the non-medically inclined that means they stuck a tube up my bum and a tube down my throat and took pictures).  I had been waiting for quite some time for this procedure - over a year since the process started (it should have been done 8 years ago, but that's a whole 'nother story) - so nothing was going to get in my way of having it done.
As preparation I could not eat anything for 48ish hours prior to the procedure.  Since the procedure was scheduled for about noon on Friday, I had to stop eating Wednesday night.  Thursday I was still allowed clear fluids, but nothing solid. And then Thursday the "fun" started.  In order to get clear pictures, I had to be cleaned out.  Enter lots of really disgusting laxatives and many hours spent in the bathroom.  So many that we even moved my computer in there so I could work on school while I cleaned out.  By 10pm Thursday night I was no longer allowed to take anything by mouth - food, drink or meds.  Not being able to take my meds was my biggest concern.  I'd be missing two doses of my seizure meds, which generally isn't a good idea.
By 10pm Thursday night we were also starting to grow concerned about the weather.  A storm was moving in.  A big storm.
Friday morning dawned very stormy.  Lots of wind, snow, and ice.  The hospital where the procedure was to take place was an hour away under normal conditions.  We left about two hours prior to the time I was supposed to arrive at the hospital and took the van instead of the car because it had higher ground clearance.  We made it on time, but without much time to spare. More than a few times we didn't know where the road was, which was slightly problematic.
We parked at the hospital and got me checked in.  Once I was checked in, David had to leave since visitors weren't allowed.  I'd left my watch with David so I had no concept of time.  I know that I changed and then read a bit until a nurse came in to start my IV.  She took one look at my hand, got a warm blanket and tucked my hand in to warm up and maybe pop a vein out for her to work with. I think at some point I drifted off to sleep.  Soon a porter came to bring me to the OR.  First she wrapped me in more warm blankets because I was still cold.  Why do hospitals have to be so cold????
Once we got to the OR I set a new record for the doctor.  I was the first patient in 25 years that he could not get an IV started on.  He tried 3 or 4 times, then called for the anesthesiologist to come try.  He didn't have much more luck from the doctor.  Finally he sent a nurse to find a 24 gauge needle, which is what they use on babies. (big numbers mean smaller needles). Once he had the needle, he went for my foot.  I've had a lot of IVs and blood draws - nothing compares to having an IV placed in your foot!  Once the IV was placed I remember the doctor telling the nurse to give me a little extra sedation because they'd already put me through so much.  Then I don't remember anything.
The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery and being given something to drink.  Then the nurses called David to come get me and I waited for him to bring the car around.  And waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally I texted him.  His response (and I quote) "I'm standing out in the cold of the hospital parking lot looking for someone with jumper cables..."
Thus continued our adventure.  No jumper cables could be found.  We got mom's CAA number and tried to call them.  We couldn't get through.  We found a phone book and called a towing service to come jump the car.  They showed up in good time, considering that the storm was still raging and the roads hadn't been cleared.  They tried to jump the car.  No go.  The starter was dead.  I was still stuck in the hospital since I couldn't go anywhere until a car was waiting for me at the front entrance.  Our van was being towed and David was going with it.
Enter wonderful family friends.  A quick phone call and a handsome man came to our rescue, picking me up from the hospital, picking David up from the shop and taking me to Wendy's to get something to eat.  Then we went back to his house.  But before we got there...
We got stuck in the street before his house.  He trudged through the snow to get his cute little snow blower and blow a path out while David drove.  Safely inside we made a decision that we were not going anywhere that night anymore.  The snow was still falling and word from home was that things were still nasty.  An air mattress became our bed and we bunked down with friends for the night.
The next morning the sun was shining and we headed for home, our GI-normous adventure completed.  I don't need another one like that for quite some time!

Adult

I stood in front of the kitchen window in my apartment, looking out over the sunny courtyard and squishing cheese cracker dough between my hands and laying it out on the cookie sheets, watching the time, making sure the crackers would all be through the oven in time for my 2pm meeting, and that’s when it hit me square between the eyes.  I am an adult.
I don’t know when it happened.  I don’t know how it happened.  But I do know that it happened.  Sure as the sun was shining in the sky, sure as the robins were walking through the grass, I was an adult.
It hadn’t happened when I hit that magical number of 18 and was allowed to take my Girl Scouts places by myself (as long as I didn’t drive!). It hadn’t happened when I graduated high school and took a group of preteens overseas, though I was often expected to act like an adult and make adult decisions.  It didn’t happen at any point during college, no matter what life through at me, and it certainly didn’t happen on the day I walked across the stage and received my college diploma.  Yet somehow it still happened.
Here I am, an adult.

As I reflected on that I wondered what it meant. What does it mean to be an adult?  I looked it up in my dictionary (ie: I typed it into an online dictionary…same thing really...just don't type the word "Adult" into your search engine by itself...) and found these three definitions for the noun form:
1: a person who is fully grown or developed or of age.
2.a full-grown animal or plant.
3.a person who has attained the age of maturity as specified by law.
None of them really seemed to fit what was happening in me at that moment.  I had been full-grown for some time.  I had reached my full height in the 7th grade, much to my disgust. I did develop a little more after that as my body went through changes, but for sure by the end of high school I was fully grown...but yet I wasn't an adult then. Definition 2 simply didn't apply, as I am neither plant nor animal.  And the 3rd definition...well, I had reached that age a long time ago.  So what was it?

I think for me, the realization that I am now an adult, is a combination of the fact that major life changes are headed my way. I'm leaving school before finishing it because I want to switch to another school.  No one is forcing me, no one is saying no.  I'm also getting married.  Yeah.  Married.  Kids don't get married. But that still doesn't seem like all of it.  But it's for sure a part of it.
I'm changing schools, I'm getting married, I pay bills, I buy groceries, I go to meetings, I sometimes clean my house…I guess all these things make me an adult.

But there is part of me that doesn't want to be an adult yet, and a part that I hope never becomes an adult.  It's the part of me that keeps dreaming, keeps hoping, keeps creating.  It's the part of me that for a time can put aside the worries and cares of this world and dance.  That can stop and smell the flowers just because, that is free to be me.

Children are free like that.  Did you ever stop to watch children play on a playground?  The don't look around, always watching their backs to see who is following them, worrying about what comes next, the play with pure abandon, making friends with whoever seems to be there, living into the moment.  That's the part of me, the part that I want to keep as a child forever.

Pictures

For those of you who have been worried about whether I am still alive or not...

This is my handsome man.

This is me all dolled up for an afternoon/evening out with my handsome man

These are bacon wrapped maple glazed dates.  In other words, pure deliciousness.

This is a bowl of delicious Joy-friendly pasta in a restaurant.  There was also Joy-friendly salad and Joy-friendly bread. 

How to help

After my blog post about mounting frustrations and some facebook posts about frustrations I’ve had a number of people asking how they can help make things easier for me while I heal.  I’m not usually very good at asking in the moment.  I’m notoriously bad at asking for help.  I try to be independent, I try to not burden other people, but I’m trying to learn to be humble and accept help.  So, if you genuinely want to help, here are some suggestions on you can help. *Note: this will be ongoing.  Doc says I might be off my leg for 6 weeks or more*

• As long as there is snow and ice on the ground I can’t get in and out of my house to get to class.  I need to be at school at 8am on Monday and Thursdays.  The other days it’s roughly 9:30 that I need to be at school. 
• I can get my laundry downstairs and wash it, but I can’t get it back upstairs.  Right now there is a load waiting down stairs to come back up. 
• On February 19 I am preaching the evening service at First Reformed Church. I can’t get there on my own and need a ride.  I will also need a ride home.
• I need to go to the bank on 8th street.  Again, too far for me to get on my own
• I'm going to have to start physical therapy soon to try and rehabilitate my knee. I don't know where for sure yet or how often, but I know it's going to have to be happening.  The doctor hopes to have me up and walking on my own by the beginning of April.  We'll see if the physical therapist agrees.  
• Being able to get to the therapy pool a couple times a week at the aquatic center would be excellent for my knee.  Normally I ride my bike to the aquatic center, but with my knee all messed up I can’t get there.  The aquatic center has free wifi, lots of swimming place, a workout room etc, so if you want to bring me so that I can work on my knee, there are lots of ways to amuse yourself (if you want to swim or workout I can even give you a pass).  Here’s a link to when therapy pool hours are.  There are not always regular swimming hours during therapy hours.
• I can't get to the grocery store on my own. Even being there is a bit of a challenge. 
• I'm sure there's more, but that's what I've got for now. 

Leave it Home!

A Toronto district school recently sent home a letter (and follow-up ) banning playground bars on the basis of a couple injuries and near injuries. Children were asked to leave their balls at home.  It made me think (one of my pastimes).  Playground balls are required to be left home because of injury they might cause or have caused.  But what else are children bringing to school that can cause injury.
Maybe these are things that ought to be banned:
Bullying - It hurts upfront and in the long term it can be very damaging.  Almost weekly we read reports of students who have been driven to suicide because of prolonged bullying.  As someone who has survived a fair bit of bullying, I can personally attest to this.
Homophobia - really, homophobia gets no one anywhere.  You don't have to agree with everyone and not everyone has to agree with you.  That's just the way things are. But you do have to be kind.
Peanut Butter and Nut Products - Mostly because these things are not allowed in most Ontario schools and because I understand life with nut allergies and how hard it can be to be in a lunch room surrounded by PB&J sandwiches and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
Racism - Racism is old fashioned, but it still run rampart in many places.  Leave it home and look beyond skin color.  You might be amazed at what you find.
Hate - do I really need to elaborate?
Pets - Although pets can be fun, the can also be really distracting at school.
Mean names - As many of these things are, mean names are a subdivision of bullying.  They have no place at school.
Bad attitudes - the bad attitude of one student can have a large impact on the whole learning environment.  Bad attitudes are contagious, just as good attitudes are.  Yeah, sometimes school sucks.  Sometimes we don't want to be there.  But for every student that doesn't want to be there, there are many more who do want to be there and can't be.


That's only a partial list, but it's what I have for now.  What do you think students should leave at home?

The "What-If" Game

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been playing the “what if” game.  I played it as a child and I play now as a grown-up of sorts.

There are different kinds of what-ifs, some healthier than others.

Firstly, there are the ones that simply cause more anxiety:

What if the neighborhood cougar eats me when I take the compost out?  (although the neighborhood cougar was very real, it never attacked a human.  He preferred sheep and chickens)

What if it snows so much that we can’t get home from school? (at least once we were sent home early to avoid this)

What if Mommy gets in a car accident because the weather is so horrible and she doesn’t come home from work? (she worked homecare in a rural setting.  The weather was often very horrible at night)

The anxiety causing ones are typically things that are well beyond our control and we can do little to nothing to prepare for them.

Then there are the what-ifs that lead to being prepared:

What if instead of being sunny on our campout it rains? (hint: pack rain gear)

What if there is a fire in the building I’m in? (hint: know your exits)

What if I get stuck in traffic with 13 little girls in the back of the van? (true  story.  Hint: sing songs and make up games)

What if my Kingdom Kids finish their craft in 5 minutes instead of 15?  (hint: always overplan)

What if our trip takes a day longer than planned? (hint: bring extra underwear and extra medication)

What if we come upon a car accident while we are driving? (hint: keep your first aid training up to date and carry a first aid kit in the car)

What if I'm hungry before I get home? (hint: always bring a snack!)

There are some what-ifs that are more likely than others:

“What if I get kidnapped?” is a much less likely scenario than “What if I get hit by a car on my way to school?” (some mornings my eyes are barely open as I cross the street to school)

“What if I forget that it’s my Sunday to do liturgy?” is much more likely to happen than “What if I forget the way to church?” (It’s been a year, it involves no more than 3 turns and one of them is a forced turn)

“What if I forget to comb my hair?” is much more likely than “what if I forget to get dressed before going to class?”

Then there are the really fun what-ifs, the ones that let you play with the future and explore different ideas:

What if I decide not to go on my J-term trip?

What if I don’t turn in my credo paper on time?

What if I decide to stop going to school for a while and instead get a real job?

What if he actually loves me instead of just likes me?

What if I dye my hair purple?

What if I move to a different state?

What if I switch to distance learning?

What if I decide to get my nose pierced?

What if I find out I can’t have children?

What if I could find all the people who ever made me angry and beat them with a wet noodle?

What if the seizures never go away?

What if I could stop worrying about what people think about me?

What if this is my last day on earth?

The last list is by no means complete and not all of them are necessarily happy or serious.  They just are.  In one of my classes this semester, Play in Life and Ministry, we’ve been reading about creativity and how playing the “what-if” game can actually be healthy.  It helps you see outside of the normal bounds of society.  It gives you the freedom to look beyond what is immediate and play with the concepts of time and the future.  Of course, some what-ifs are just plain worrisome and should not be played with (see the first list).

So how do you play with the future and time? How do you relieve your stress by playing with your imagination?  What are some of your what-ifs?

How to convince your stomach to produce too much acid

1. Go to graduate school or seminary.
2. Get a urinary tract infection (UTI).
3. Instead of going to the doctor for your UTI, try and take care of it yourself with cranberry.
4. Consume about half a gallon of cranberry juice every day.
5. Skip school because you are in too much pain to go to class.
6. Finally go to the doctor when the pain become unbearable (after about a month of self treatment).
7. Take 10 days of the strongest antibiotics the doctor feels like giving you.
8. While taking the antibiotics, travel to a funeral in another state and back (9 hours of driving each way).
9. Miss three days of school right before midterms because you are going to the funeral.
10. Continue to drink cranberry juice at incredible rates while on the antibiotics.
11. Survive midterms by staying up late, eating lots of greasy food, and generally not caring well for yourself.
12. Finish the antibiotics.
13. Realize that you are still in pain and convince yourself that you still have a UTI, because it seems like the most pleasant option.
14. Drink more cranberry juice.
15. Add apple cider vinegar to your plan for kicking this UTI in the behind.
16. Drink more cranberry juice.
17. A week after the antibiotics are gone, realize you are still in pain and it's not getting better.
18. Go to the doctor again.
19. Let the doctor poke you where it hurts.
20. Discover that your stomach has decide that producing massive amounts of acid is the best way to get your attention.
And this my friends is how you convince your stomach to produce too much acid.
So now I'm on a low acid, non greasy, non spicy diet as well as acid reducers for the next two weeks to see if that fixes the problem. If not, it will be back to the drawing board again. 
 Unfortunately, most of my favorite foods fall into the categories of acidic, greasy, or spicy (or some combination of the above!). I suppose the bacon I ate the day before going to the doctor was a bad idea, as was the apple cider I had been drinking like it was going out of style and the cranberry juice and the cinnamon and, and, and....
It's definitely been a learning curve. I learned to broil fish today instead of pan frying it like I usually do. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with my Sunday chicken to eliminate the grease. The best option seems to be to boil it, let it cool, scrape the grease off and then do something with the meat. Not quite sure what yet. Maybe chicken salad or some non-spicy type of chicken tortilla, though that doesn't sound too awesome. 
I'm open to suggestions, so if you have suggestions on how to eat "bland" (as the doctor so appealingly put it), please, please, let me know. Otherwise it's going to be a long 2 weeks!

Is one enough?

Is one language ever really enough?
Almost everyday I find myself searching for words and more times than not, I come up with them in a language other than the one I'm supposed to be speaking. I was in class the other day and we were talking about how Jesus could have come in and demolished the Romans (but he didn't, because that wasn't the way he had planned), but I couldn't think of the word "demolished" or similar words in English. However, I knew the sign I needed and half way through my sentence I switched to sign language and threw the word out that I needed. It got my point across, and the sign I used was just a really fun sign (it's one of my favorites...I'm not sure what it says about me when many of my favorite signs are on the "violent" side of things. The sign for "bombs" is super fun too.) 
Another time, in a context where the primary languages were supposed to be sign and English, I caught myself thinking in German (and maybe even a little Greek!) and accidentally vocalizing a few times in German instead of English. Many times I'll know a German (or other language word) that describes how I'm feeling or what I want to say much better than the English words I know. Once I know the word I want in German I try and think of the English word and there just isn't one! How do you translate the word "kribble" (Ich habe einen Kribble in meinen Bauch) into English? The best I've ever come up with is to Anglicize it (My stomach is all kribbly) and then when people ask, try and use lots and lots of words to explain it. In this instance, "kribbly" can be describe as happy little butterflies dancing around inside, kind of like the feeling you get when you talk with that special someone...or are filled with excitement. They aren't the kind of butterflies you get when you are nervous about giving a speech or something. Those are mean butterflies. There are all kinds of other words I do that with, just because I don't know the English or English simply doesn't have the word I need. 
The other day I threw the Hebrew "Nephesh" into conversation (I may or may not have been feeling slightly kribbly at the time) because I didn't have an English word to explain what I was saying. (My conversation partner actually had to look the word up. Hebrew phrases weren't in their vocabulary.) 
So what is my point? That's a really good question. I'm still working on that minor detail. What bugs me is that so many of us in North America know one language. Just one. And mostly it is English, which although a beautiful and diverse language, is lacking in so many ways. 
Is there a way to fix this problem? I wish I knew. I wish I could tell everyone to go out and learn multiple languages so that we could have fuller communication. I wish there was a practical way to come up with a language that would be understood by everyone, everywhere, and encompass the fullness and richness of individual languages, but that's just not practical. Firstly, our world is too big for everyone to learn the same language. It just wouldn't happen. Secondly, we all have different language needs. Someone living near the equator would not need as many words for winter precipitation as we need in Canada.
I don't know the answer.  Do you?

Gummy Worms!

Today, instead of doing my homework, I decided try out a recipe that my cousin had sent me.  It was for gummy worms.  I have not been able to have gummy worms for a long time because gummy worms tend to be made with lots and lots of corn syrup and my body really doesn't do well with corn syrup.  Which is problematic because I really like gummy candies.  (I like jelly beans too, but aside from one accidentally "jelly bean cake" I have not mastered the hard on the outside-chewy on the inside jelly bean).
I was a bit skeptical as I started.  All my previous attempts at candy (aside from chocolate) had been miserable failures, but this looked pretty failure proof.  I didn't even need a candy thermometer! And there were absolutely no substitutions that I had to make.  For a recipe, that is always a good start.

some of my gummy worms (there were and still are lots more!)

Gummy flutterby

Ladybug!

Flutterby on a string!

Gummy Frog!

Flowers!

And then, just for fun I made scones.  I'd never had a scone before.  But they are yummy.  Olga and I sampled one fresh from the oven.  These are completely allergy friendly (top 8 free) and have chocolate chips in them.  As long as I don't eat them all before Monday, my peer group is in for a treat!  (if they keep well...the recipe said serve warm, so I'm hoping they hold until Monday)

Late

“You’re late”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement of fact. Not even an accusation.And not just from one mouth, but from many.
There was nothing false about the statement. I was late. It was 8:10. Normally, I’d have been home and well through my breakfast by 8:10, instead of just arriving, but for some reason hearing that statement in the locker room caused the anger to rise up in me.
Who were these people to call me out on being late? They were old enough to be my grandmothers, yet none of them were related to me. In fact, we mostly didn’t even know each other’s names. Yet here they were, calling me out on being late to the pool.
I had no formal obligation to be at the pool.  I didn't work there, didn't teach there, just showed up a few times a week to put some laps in, keep my knees happy and maybe work my heart out a little too.  Yet these women had begun to keep track of me.  They knew which days I cam and what time I came at.  And they knew that I was late.
I knew I was late too.  That morning sleep had seemed much more important than getting out of bed before the stars had gone to bed and getting to the pool.  I didn't have to be anywhere until 9:40 (technically not until 10:20 when my class started but chapel is at 9:40 and I like chapel), so I could do it...just a few minutes more...well those few minutes kept growing and by the time I'd finally guilted myself into getting up and heading to the pool, my roommate had left for her first hour class. I was late.
I spent the rest of Thursday trying to catch up.  I got home at 8:30, hardly enough time for breakfast before chapel...I grabbed a GF bagel and ate it on the way to chapel and finished it in class.  All day it was go, go, go until I finally fell into bed.
That day made me think.  Mostly about the importance of starting my day right.  I've always been told that starting the day with devotions is the best way, but I am not a morning person.  Daily devotions are important, don't get me wrong, but I doubt they will ever be the very first thing I do.  I've been reading through the Psalms with a friend, and while I usually do it pretty early in the morning, it's almost always after my swim (if it's a swimming day) or at least after I get the oatmeal on, start the water for my first hour tea and mix up my yoghurt for second hour.  then I can focus a little bit better.
The timing of my devotions isn't super important, but what I've found to be important is the routine of starting my day right.  If I start right, whether it's being on time for my swim or making time for my devos before class, it makes my whole day go better.
It amazing how something as little as that, as setting down for 15 minutes and reading scripture can put the entire day in a right frame of mind.  Or getting up and actually going to the pool "on time" can make my whole day run smoothly.
Next time I'm tempted to snag a few extra half hours of sleep before pool time, or a few extra minutes in lieu of getting up in time to do my devos, I'll remember that day and how I played catch-up all day. And I'll remember those ladies at the pool...and, I'll be on time.

And I'm back...

I'm back.
For the last 2 weeks we have not had internet in our house.  If I sat outside I could sometimes get it, but it wasn't a great signal and if too many vehicles went down the road in a row, I lost it.  But now, there is internet in our house. I'm happy. And a little worried.  Wasting time will be easier now. ;)
On a more serious note, I am back in seminary now.  Orientation was last week, classes started yesterday. Honestly, I had forgotten how exhausting school was.  Maybe it's just getting back into the routine.  I hope it's just getting back into the routine.  I'll have more in-depth reflections at a different time, but it's almost 9:30.  Last night I went to bed at 8.  Maybe I'm just getting old.
I'm also officially back at First Reformed Church.  I'm excited for what the Lord has in store for me there this year.

More than a Meal

Recently I took a trip to my former college to see some friends and spend my break. One night as I sat in the dining hall I began to reflect on my food-related experiences in college. It would have been easy for me to make a case to be exempt from meal plan. I mean, for me, eating is a very dangerous activity. The college also could have easily requested that I not be on meal plan.  Trying to safely feed me is a challenge that few people undertake (The short list of my allergies includes gluten, corn, dairy, eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, tomatoes, banana, pineapple, kiwi, and shellfish. At least 6 of those present with skin blistering on contact, anaphylaxis upon ingestion).  Central College however decided to take on the challenge of trying to feed me and I decided to let them.  In all honesty, I really didn't want to try and cook three meals a day for myself on top of being a student.  Central went above and beyond to make sure that I had food at every meal.  In all four years that I was at Central, the only times I got sick from food were times that I had made less than wise choices (eating food without checking the ingredients, eating food from the fryers).  Which is super impressive.  I mean, really super impressive.  Very few people/kitchens can pull that off.
As I sat and reflected upon my experiences with food, I came to realize that the staff (dietary manager, cooks, servers, etc) did far more than just provide me with food options that wouldn't kill me.  Food is a central part of social life on a college campus and the dining hall is the center of food.  On a campus with only 3 options for meal plan (the main dining hall, a fast food type place called GSC, and the Cafe), it was pretty safe to assume that most students would eat at least one meal a day in the main dining hall.  The main dining hall was also a hub of activity, especially when things got busy (so, basically, all the time).  If you wanted to catch up with a friend, it was easy to say "Let's have a lunch date".  Need a meeting time for a small group Bible study or GIG?  Everyone has to eat, why not hold it at the dining hall?  Want to practice language skills? Sit at the German or Spanish table.  Thinking about studying abroad?  Go to a Lunch and Learn.
By allowing me to be on meal plan, and making meal plan easy for me, all of these social opportunities were opened to me.  I ate almost every day with a group called "the Table".  We (almost) always sat in the same spot in the dining hall, and there was always more room at the table.  It was a time where important news was shared, where schedules were coordinated, where we could check in with each other and make sure we were doing alright.  If I hadn't been on meal plan, I would have missed out on all of that.
I would have missed out on Study Day picnic, an event which grew out of my propensity for sitting on the floor randomly to eat (people would ask me where I wanted to sit, I'd say "right here" and sit down wherever I was.  Eventually it became an organized event with a picnic blanket and everything).
Some people see meals as nothing more than a chance to eat, but they are so much more than that.  So much of our culture revolves around food.  When the dining staff decided to make an effort to provide me with safe food options, they were concerned about feeding my body.  What they ended up doing was feeding my life.
Sometimes life is like that.  People intend to meet one need and end up meeting another, often far greater need.  Or they fail to meet a need and end up failing to meet another, far greater need.
You may never know what what deeper need you'll meet by making the effort to meet a need on the surface, what wounds you'll heal by reaching out to someone.  Likewise, you may never know how much you'll deepen wounds by failing to meet surface needs.
Remember, what you do on the surface often runs much much deeper.

Chicago

On our way back from Canada we went through Chicago, partly because we needed to take Sarah Elizabeth back and partly because JB wanted to see Chicago.  So we did some touristy stuff and I took some touristy pictures.  I'd love to go back sometime when I'm not pressed for time and be a real tourist.  Spend more time seeing the things I want to see like the museums and the aquarium.

The classic skyline view

The not so classic skyline view

My favorite was the Lego butterflies.  If I have time I'll make a whole post of what we saw at the Lego store.

Reuben and I made a Lego family portrait.  See if you can guess who is who.  Hint: the broom is a guitar and the walkie-talkie is a phone.  No fair looking on Facebook for the answers!

Fun Picture

I have stuff to write about, but I don't want to write.  I want to bake yummy things.  I mean, I do want to write things, just not right now.  I've been glued to the computer since 2 this afternoon working on swim team stuff as well as other stuff and being distracted in general. (RCA's Breaking Barriers publication came out today.  Enough said.).  Anyhow, in lieu of writing, here is a snapshot of yesterday.  After reading my Facebook status from yesterday, one of my friends told me that my life is epic. I will post the status below the picture and you can decide for yourself.

This is me and Rosie at church.  I got to drive Rosie a bunch.  Rosie is part Arabian horse and part pony.  I'm not quite sure what that makes her, but she is wonderful.  Drives like a dream.  Real easy to handle.  And, her cart has lights and blinkers and everything so she even gets to drive on the road.  I even got to drive her on the road.  I was happy.

And here is the Facebook post that got me told that I lead an epic life:

Some days are more random than others. Accomplished today: finding an ASL version of Psalm 23 for a friend. two hour staff meeting. warding off creepy guys at the gas station. Extended grocery shopping trip with a dear friend. care closet complete with an attitude adjustment from my Loving Father. cuddling a baby. driving a horse. examining a head wound. discussing various (head) wounds and methods for closing them. reassuring a parent that their child was going to be fine. supervising "pennies in the sawdust". understanding a very small part of a conversation spoken in Spanish. Playing on an inflatable obstacle course. going on a walk and talk with a wonderful friend. Now...BEDTIME!!!

The Trip to the Grocery Store

For the average person, a trip to the grocery store is not an adventure.  But I have never been an average person, nor will I ever be an average person, so average events like going to the grocery store often turn into adventures.  Tonight was no exception...
I'd made tentative plans to go to the grocery with a friend this afternoon, but for various and asundry reasons, that didn't happen.  So after I had my supper of bacon wrapped, Daiya Cheddar stuffed Hebrew National Hotdogs, I grabbed my bike and headed out. I need to bake for a baptism party, so I really did need to go to the store.  That, and I needed food that I could actually eat right now (long complicated story).
So I grabbed my bike bags and my backpack (and my helmet and gloves and all that good stuff) and set off.  I got less than a block and realized my back tire was flat.  Big sad face.  Middle Brother had fixed it the end of June.  It wasn't supposed to be flat again.  I walked my bike back to my apartment, with a sad face on.
I called Middle Brother and asked him how hard it was to change a bike tire (I have three brothers, I've never had to change a bike tire).  He started talking about it and I glazed over. Then he remembered that he had left a can of "fix a flat" here in June.  He told me how to use it.  I listened to him. Back outside I tried to spray the "fix a flat" into my tire. Spraying it in was fine.  Then I tried to take the nozzle thingy off my tire.  "Fix a flat" gunk started going everywhere.  No big deal, I thought.  I got some on my fingers and they started to burn.  I went inside and rinsed them off and got a grease rag to help with getting the nozzle thingy off my tire.  Once I got it off I realized more air had come out of the place where the nozzle thingy had been attached.  So I reattached the nozzle thingy and tried again.  I didn't have the nozzle thingy on all the way and "fix a flat" sprayed everywhere.  Except on my clothes which made me happy.  I finally got in on, finished inflating the tire and got the nozzle thingy off, getting even more "fix a flat" on my hands.  Tire was successfully repaired.
I came inside and washed my hands, trying to get the "fix a flat" off.  I called Middle Brother to tell him that I fixed the tire and complain about my swelling fingers (they looked like mini sausages and I couldn't really bend them).  He told me that "fix a flat" wasn't really dangerous; it was just aerosol propelled liquid rubber.   I could have quackled or scrandled him right about then.  Liquid rubber = latex.  I have a latex allergy.  No wonder I had sausage fingers.  Enter anti-histamines.
I still needed to go to the store, so now, about an hour later, doped up on anti-histamines, I left for the store.  It was a good trip to the store.  The store has lots of good things.  Like sweet potatoes and sauerkraut and refried bean.  The grocery store also has Jello.   I was looking for sugar free jell tonight, because for reasons not important to this blog post I currently cannot eat sugar or anything high in carbohydrates (this is very sad.  I love potatoes.  Basically, I can eat meat and some vegetables, as long as they aren't starchy vegetables).  I found the sugar free jello. It's amazing how much lighter the packages of sugar free jello are compared to the regular jello, and they make the same amount of stuff.  I don't know how that works.  It just does.  Anyhow, I discovered that nobody makes sugar free blueberry jello.  Blueberry jello is my favorite, but neither the Jello brand or the store brand had blueberry jello.  I wonder why that is.
I also bought lunch meat (cuz I can eat meat!) and that's when  remembered why I don't buy lunch meat.  It's ridiculous how much junk is in lunch meat.  Even the most basic turkey breasts had caramel color added.  Caramel color is often made from barely, which makes in un-gluten free.  Anything that didn't have caramel color had corn syrup.  What happened to just plain old meat?  I finally found some, but it took awhile.  I should have bought pickles too.  I like pickles. But vinegar doesn't like me right now, so it's probably for the best.
I also bought pork rinds.  I've never had pork rinds before, but they look like chip-ish type things and they have no carbs, so they shouldn't kill me or make me sick.  At least, that's the hope.
And then I came home from the store.  It was dark so I wore my special vest with reflective tape and lights. It fits over my backpack, so that is nice.   Now I'm home.  I made jello and it's in the fridge so I can have some for breakfast tomorrow (today's breakfast was bacon and a hotdog, so jello seems like a step up in a weird sort of way).  Now I'm tired so I'm going to take some more anti-histamines (my fingers are still really swollen and stiff, but they won't deflate now!) and go to bed.
And that was my adventure to the grocery store.

PS:  anyone remember those yo-yo balls that were real popular about 8 years ago or so (when I was in high school)?  They were squishy balls on a stretchy string type thing that had a ring to go around your finger like a yo-yo.  They were pretty much outlawed and banned because kids would get them wrapped around their necks and strangle themselves or others.  They were a fun toy, but the strangling part wasn't so fun.  Anyhow, they were for sale in one of those vending machine thingies at the grocery.  Packaged inside one of the impossible-to-get-open-unless-you-step-on-it plastic bubble things.  Made me wonder.  Have children gotten smarter and less likely to be strangled or  have we stopped caring?

You know you're a swimmer when...

Due to an unfortunate event involving a carrot, a super sharp knife, and my left middle finger on Sunday night I couldn't go for my swim this morning.  So I decided to write about swimming instead.
You know you're a swimmer when...
...swimming with a new pair of goggles makes you super happy
...you go through swim suits faster than you do clothes (mom, that's a hint.  It's gonna be new swim suit time again)
...many of your facebook ads are swimming related
...you willingly go to swim meets even though you  aged out of the swim club years ago
...you know what the event numbers mean for  your local swim club/association
...you injure yourself and second to realizing that you interrupted a baby shower to get help, you are upset that the injury means you're out of the pool for a few days
...you get up before 7 on a Saturday morning so you can get in some lane swim before going to market (pool doesn't open earlier than 7)
...you get up by 6 on weekdays during the summer so you can swim
...you go to the pool more than once a day
...you don't remember the last time you showered at home because you shower more than enough at the pool
...your hair seldom gets a chance to dry all the way
...you have willingly worn a swim suit two sizes to small for a race
...you have forgotten you are wearing your swimsuit and gone to the grocery store decked out in a racing suit, swim cap, goggles, and a swim skirt and weren't able to figure out why people were staring at you funny
...the only reason you bother keeping your asthma under good control is so that you can swim
...when you can't swim you spend all day thinking about how wonderful it would be to be in the pool

Knowing When to Quit

Some people are good at quitting, sometimes even too good.  Others, well, we just don't know when to quit.  We can be very determined.  Sometimes that is a good thing, such as when pure determination and hard work got me through college, in four years, 6 credits short of a double major, despite everything that life had thrown my way in those four years.  Other times it's not such a good thing, such as the time when my determination not to get a DNF or DQ on my final swim race (100m breast stroke) even though I'd had a massive asthma attack half way through, meant that I passed out, in the pool, as soon as I had finished the race. It also meant today that I spent about 45 minutes sitting on the locker room floor at the pool, fighting against passing out (for the record, I won).
As I pondered my tendencies to extreme determination (some of my friends have another word for it), it got me thinking about life and faith. The Bible has a fair bit to say about extreme determination or perseverance. Let's take a look.
In 2 Timothy 4:6-8 we read about having fought the good fight and finished the race. From my experience with swim racing, the only way to finish a race is to have extreme determination.  Sometimes the finish line seems miles away, especially if you are about 4 years old and only just able to make it from one end of the pool to the other, swimming freestyle.  When you are that four year old (I wasn't, just assisted in the coaching of some of them. The youngest swimmer I ever coached is now 13 and entering 7th grade.  Most days I choose not to think about that), the only thing that is between you and that DNF or DQ is your extreme determination to finish (and maybe your coaches yelling at you to not dare to touch the wall or they'd step on your fingers, but coaches would never do such a thing).  When you're swimming a distance race and the water as well as the air around it is freezing cold (snow on a meet day is rare, but not unheard of), it takes extreme determination and dedication (and a fair bit of craziness) to even get into the pool, much less finish the race.
In 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 we read that all run the race, but only one gets the prize. I was never one of the "good" swimmers.  The only way I could garner any points for my team was if there were less than 7 swimmers in the event, which is why I ended up swimming distance races (no one likes the distance races, but I never minded them).  The week after the meet everyone would collect their "ribbons", which were really paper cards, a different color for each of the top 7 places.  Some got a lot of cards, others, didn't get any (or if they were really little they got a purple card, just for participating), but we all trained.  3 days a week we were at the pool, rain or shine, cold or hot for practice. Some even more often than that (some summers I pretty much lived at the pool).  But every summer, at the end of the year, at that one meet that really mattered, the one where medals and trophies were handed out, there were only so many to hand out. A very few swimmers took the majority of them home (These were the "good" swimmers), but come next season, all of us were back in the pool, working again, training hard.  We didn't train aimlessly, but trained with a purpose in mind: more speed.  After weeks of not ever taking a ribbon home, after summers of never getting a medal, it takes extreme determination to come back, summer after summer after summer to try again, to train with that same goal in mind: more speed.
In Hebrews 12:1-3 we read about the cloud of witnesses surrounding us, encouraging us to finish the race.  If you've ever been to a Saturday morning rec league outdoor meet, you've got an idea of what it looks like to have a cloud of witnesses encouraging you.  There are people everywhere.  Some of them are parents who really don't understand the fascination we have with plunging ourselves into freezing cold water at 7:30 in the morning and then waiting a couple hours and doing it again.  Others are parents who do get it and wish they could still do it.  Either way, they are there with one purpose: support.  Support for their swimmer(s) and support for their team.  The sit around the pool, often in miserable conditions (it's usually either dangerously hot, ridiculously cold, or raining), for hours (starting at 7:30am, often running into mid afternoon), to offer support.  Some of the support comes in the form of helping with marshaling (getting the right swimmers in the right lanes, swimming the right strokes, at the right time), sometimes it's timing (running those exceedingly complicated stopwatches, watching extremely close for the swimmer in their lane to touch in and writing down times with utmost care, knowing that a disputed time will give everyone grief over a tenth of a second), sometimes it's running (getting cards from swimmers to timers in 25m events, getting cards from timers to scoring, making sure everyone has water, finding relief timers), sometimes it's scoring (interpreting those hand written scores and entering them into the computer (we're all technological now), printing and posting results pages and dealing with parents and coaches who are upset about a DQ given), but mostly, it's just cheering and being there for their swimmer(s). When you're the swimmer, you know what that "cloud of witnesses" feels like.  As you take your position, things are as silent as an outdoor meet ever gets.  The marshals are still calling names, the anxious swimmers in the next heat are still chattering, but you don't hear any of that.  Your auditory nerves are tuned to the voice of the starter "Swimmers! take your marks!  Get set!  GO!"  You never hear that go.  It's drown out by the starters pistol (or now, a lame whistle blast).  You leave the comfort of the pool deck (or starting block if you're at a fancy-schmancy pool), all forgotten except your goal: finish the race in as short as time as possible without DQing. As your head breaks the surface of the pool half way down (if you're a big kid, closer to the starting line if you're little) you hear the roar.  If you're luck you pick out one voice and listen for it every time your head breaks the surface (if you're not having an asthma attack, you do have to breath.  Funny how that works).  Voices roar at you "PULL!  PULL!  KICK!  Stop looking at the others and swim! PULL!  Finish strong!  PULL! GO! GO!  GO!" And then, almost as soon as it started, it's over and the spectators fall silent again as the next heat takes their place.
And as far as throwing off everything that hinders and following the course set out for us, yeah, swimmers know about that too.  We wiggle into the tiniest swimsuits possible (which are much easier to put on than take off), we put our hair under caps to reduce any drag, goggles are the minimal possible to keep chlorine out of our eyes and allow us to see the black line (course marked out for us!), and if you're a good swimmer who stands a chance at breaking a record, all body hair that isn't covered by suit or cap is removed.  We might train in different attire (think opposite), but when push comes to shove, when a few tenths of a second can make a difference, nothing is allowed to hinder.
Now none of these New Testament writers was talking about a swim race or even a foot race, they were talking about faith.  About pushing on for what what is right even when it's hard, even when it seems impossible or foolish.  They were talking about the extreme determination that it takes to be a Christian in this often hostile, and always sinful world, about how to keep following hard after Christ even though we are still sinners.  We have to train hard.  We have to accept encouragement from the cloud of witnesses surrounding us and we have to have extreme determination.  Sometimes it's easy, other times, it's brutal. And, getting a DNF would be much more tragic than getting a DNF at finals in the race where you actually stand a chance to earn your team those points that just might put them in the running for best team overall.
As far as the rest of life goes, I'm not sure the same extreme determination applies as it does to faith.  I think sometimes you do have to quit.  Our bodies are not our own if we belong to Christ.  1 Corinthians 6: 19-20 lays it out for us, as does the first question and answer of the Heidelberg when they say that we are not our own but belong body and soul, in life and in death, unto our faithful savior Jesus Christ, who bought us with a price.  When we abuse our bodies, we are abusing someone else's property, and well, really unpleasant stuff happens.    But quitting also isn't doing service to our Creator and Savior.  Imagine if someone gave you a really fast, really good car and told you to care for it and use it well and you responded by leaving it in the garage?  The giver would be pretty ticked that they gave you the car and then you never used it.  They'd be just as ticked if you abused the car and wrecked it through careless driving and lack of maintenance. I think we have to find that healthy medium between quitting and extreme determination.
And sometimes, that means listening to our bodies when our extreme determination takes over our sensibilities and getting out of the pool before you start to get light-headed, dizzy and have tunnel vision. :)

Stormy Weather

Today we were "blessed" with severe thunderstorms.  We did need the rain, but maybe not the high winds that came with them. There are reports of trees down and damage all over the place.  I don't dare venture out on foot because there are more storms on their way according to the weatherman.
Up until today there were only two places I really felt safe from storms -the lower chapel at Central and my parent's house in Ontario.  If I wasn't in either of those two places, storms terrified me.  Especially thunder.  I could put on a brave "camp counselor" front if I needed to, but the truth is, I don't like storms.  But this morning I felt perfectly secure here in my apartment. Guess that means this place is becoming home to me.
I shot a bit of a video of the storm this morning.  Just as I stopped filming a huge gust of wind ripped through.  You can see it on the tail end of the clip.  Then the power went out.

I stayed close to home after the first round of storms passed because there were more in the forecast and I didn't want to venture out on foot.  I've heard reports of trees down all over the place though, some completely uprooted.

This tree across the street from me got struck by lightening.  It's being supported by the tree next to it