The Time Has Come

In the past, this blog has been a precious place for thoughts and growth. However, it seems at long last that we've out grown the space and it's time to move on.

Thank you for the kind words and encouragement over the last few years. You've been wonderful.

I will still be writing over here.  I hope you come over and continue the conversation. I'd be thrilled to see you!

Love to you all,

Olivia (for the rest)

Storm Days

In good earnest, Landon read that 'blessed are the pancake makers, for they shall be called children of God.'

And on a week of storm after storm, surely this is true.

xo Stay warm!

~Liv

If You Listen

Waiting in the car with children is a rare privilege. Forced to sit with the small people, who are strapped down and always a hair's breadth away from melt down, you really have to give it everything.

You sing songs.

E; "Can we please sing that song about Tinkerbells around God's throne?"

"Do I know that one?"

E: "Yes! Pastor Cowan was talking about it at church!"

You tell stories. Which of course, revolve around fairies and a prince. Every. Time.

"So once there was a sad girl who worked at Sobeys. One day, she was sorting cucumbers and she heard a voice...."

E: "She turned around and saw her prince. Eating grapes."

You talk about books.

"Isn't one of the witches good, and one of them bad or something?"

T: "Witches!"

"And what does Dorothy do to the bad one?"

T: "Witches!"

"Were they scary?"

T: "Yeah. Witches!"

And of course we eat candy.

T: "Lollipop."

And the way she says it is cute enough to carry us all the way home.

~Liv

First Things First

Firsts are scary. And terrific. And one of my very favourite things.

First time riding a ferry at night. First time riding a ferry through ice.

First time listening to an old man play accordion to a flock of tired commuters.

First time for riding a city bus, which is a challenge at the best of times...

A first time for sitting on the back of a toboggan that's flying down an ice chute.

Also the first time I thought my life would end by bouncing off and drowning in the St. Lawrence.

First time standing in mist at below freezing temperatures. Oh - so below freezing.

First time smiling through teeth chatter.

First time for buying art off the street, while the seller surrounds me in a puff of cigarette smoke.

First time for getting so excited about a fireplace in a deserted courtyard.

First time hearing the New Year's Countdown in French. That apartment balcony looked like fun.

First time being chased out of the Citadel by a grumpy soldier, tired of tourists.

First time eating Maple Syrup creme brulee.

First time meeting a friend for several days, and then parting ways in a city neither of us know.

Firsts were done. Memories made.

xo ~Liv

One Year Down...

The best way to bring in the New Year is with the moments from last.

We opened the Good Times box when I got back from away; marveling at how many slips of paper fell out from the longest of hard years.

Yet there it all is, in black and white, the goodness of our Lord.

In March, Trinity is recorded to say, "meow." Now she tells us long stories.

Three different people wrote to mark the occasion of Dad bringing roses. This was clearly a high point.

We talked about little girls smiling while they danced and Landon writing the "Pappy book." Caiah reading, reading, reading "The Spooky Old Tree." A themed dinner party or two,

Someone thanked God for the power being out.  Another for it coming on. We each are at different stages.

And none of it's big, but none of it's small. How did we get here? One moment at a time, which is all God asks.

 Mom dumped the bits of paper and napkin into a bag to stuff away and there the box sits again, empty.

Every year we wonder what we could ever find to fill it...but God always gives us enough.

Happy 2015, Friends!

~Liv

Once Upon a Time

Last snowed in Sunday, we accidentally became reminiscent  over old homemade newspapers, paper dolls and a cassette tape.

The first were a study in early computer experimentation, complete with cut and paste clip art.

The paper dolls were more artistically creative, as well as a frightening look at how many children a ten year old considers realistic to birth.

And then there was the unmarked tape, which contains all seven scenes of "The Coughing Closet Case," plus an epilogue.

Of course, it is amusing. Our squeaky, little girl voices raised in giggles. The story is also a little alarming. At one point our 'mother' urges us to go back to sleep. Even if there is a spy in the closet, "the door is locked and you will be safe until morning."

It's also a mini-study in sibling dynamic. I was given to introducing far fetched story elements, or verbal tangents that included what dresses our characters would wear to school tomorrow. Abi had final word on the plot twists which survived and developed. Millie on the other hand, once feebly tried to introduce a mysterious floor creak, and was promptly brushed off by the rest of us. "You probably squeaked it yourself."

But things change and we change, and in the end, the only fact the held true was the end. After a conclusion which involved making a charitable donation to the army; we finished with the most churched of all touches. A warbling, poorly harmonized version of the three fold amen.

It's totally not normal. And for some reason, it felt just right.

xo ~Liv

I'm Not Afraid

When I was littler, most of life was a fear dot-to-dot. It didn't take much. I was afraid of thunder storms. Santa Claus. Martyrdom. Drowning. Something hiding under my bed...or worse, creeping up the stairs.

Some fears, I have found, you conquer slowly through determination. Santa Claus for example, although I might admit I still haven't quite got over it. 

Other times, I've just realized one day that the thing doesn't terrify me anymore. Thunderstorms used to have me immobilized in the middle of the living room, but then suddenly, I was standing on the porch loving them. Go figure.

Either way, one of the delights of my grown up life so far, has been enough awareness to identify  and overcome fears. Afraid of planes, I can choose to get a grip and walk down the aisle to buckle up. Still scared of drowning, I can decide to put on a bathing suit, walk into the lake and trust it to float me. 

Or, I can learn to walk out side after dark.

First time was a restless night when I just meant to walk the orchard then go in. But the stillness of winter had me, so I went to the top of the hill and touched the tree line. I only stopped once, holding my breath in panic because I thought the thumping of my heart was something galloping across the field behind me.

Second time was when Millie and I built a snowman on Christmas Eve, while Dad blasted music through the window. It started to rain, strangely warm and we ran away from the house's lights to lie in the snow. 

Then once Dad and I tried to walk off dinner by a trip up to the old bonfire site. Windy and crunchy and cold, but still quiet. 

And like every other time fear goes, it leaves a present behind; this time the sight of night sky unblocked by house or trees or hill. 

What surprised me wasn't the moon or stars, but the fact that when they are clouded over, they still glow. No matter what, the horizon's a muddy streak with something trying to shine from behind. The moon's a vague light, just a fuzzy spot in the darkness; but always, there is enough to see by.

Make of that what you will, but I see the pictures of those after dark excursions clearly in my head. No matter how dark, there is always a light to come home in. 

And in that, a reason and hope to overcome fear. 

~Liv

This December

Listening: to the Beach Boys Christmas album.

Eating: gingerbread men that the children decorated yesterday. They look like something from a
Sci-Fi movie.

Thinking: about a mini-road trip this weekend.

Deserving: nothing, but in Christ, receiving the world.

Cheered: by twinkle lights and coming home after dark.

Wondering: When the clouds will roll away so we can see the sun. For real!

Inspired: by the people around me.

Thankful: for every single breath.

Merry Christmas, friends!


~Liv

V is for...

In the quest for authenticity, we sometimes go to the low points. To share the glory of the Gospel, we magnify our struggle.

Yet there are days when we must only preach victory. Not so we feel falsely secure in self strength, but to remind ourselves we are secure, for real. 

It is the ultimate truth, the final word, and in our tunnel visioned life of failing then praying for grace, we don't see it. We hope for squeaking by, when really, can we say victory enough?

And in the end it would seem, victory looks much like the nitty-gritty. It goes as low and "him exalting, self abasing, this is victory."

This is victory.


~Liv

What is kind, looks stern.

What is love, looks harsh.

What is simple, looks complicated.


Human-fashion, we hang upside down and look at the world askance, wondering why it won't make sense.

Do we have the eyes to see clear?

Are we truly asking for the Truth?

What if it proves us wrong?

But the sky looks better above us than below. Ask Him to keep it there. He's the only one who can.



~Liv

The Rearview Mirror

It's not the copper hills or blue sky in front that holds me in the Fall.

It is behind, in my rear view mirror, and how the leaves dance behind me as I drive.

They seem possessed with a joy.

But I still keep my eyes on the road ahead. It does not do to dwell in what is past.

Let the Graces that are gone, dance out their dance. And if God keeps us on the road, there will be more sunshine to stir the leaves in.

The glances back on how His bridges hold will keep us living well. And living well, will keep the view in my mirror gentle - slipping through the Autumn air.

 

~Liv

 

When people clustered around, wondering who Jesus was, I did not think I was among them.

They are the others, those doubters.

Yet like so much of life, it is crowded on the moral high-ground and if I'm honest the question comes back at time.

Is He or isn't He?

It is the question for every hour. For every troubled time. And funny, but it occurs to me that the question also becomes the answer. The answer I prod myself with when my mind wanders to worry.

In forgiveness, can you do it? Well, is He forgiveness or isn't He?

In love, are you consistent? Well, is He lover or isn't He?

In courage, do my knees buckle? Well Olivia, is He Lord or isn't He?


Because if He is Jesus the Messiah, then He is Jesus the King and He alone can strengthen and comfort and love and encourage.

Does it feel like His arms are really just rushing wind as you fall? I will not argue...but I can ask.

Is He or isn't He the one who can catch you?

Yes.

Then wait awhile. He is there.



~Olivia

Fresh Air

I have to admit, I'm not a natural outdoorswoman. I am too frightened of snakes, probably.

But sometimes, Millie undertakes to teach me the skill of observance in nature. She practices the Charlotte Mason approach on me, as the closest thing to a toddler she has at hand.

 

 

At first (and still) I mostly excel at noticing trash. I think my voice shrilling through the woods is also a general deterrent to wildlife. However, I am getting better and holding a camera helps.

 

 

And just to be sure my new found skills stick, we plan to make the most of these trails, this Fall.

 

 

 

 

You should come with us, sometime!

 

I almost impaled myself trying to beat the timer.

~Olivia



 

 

 

 

Twenty Three Going on Two

Whenever I babysit, I'm struck by it at least once. And so during the meltdown or the pouting, I usually sit down and consider.

Is this what I look like to God? I ask myself, and in the stiff legs and tears before me,  I see yes.

Stubborn and sometimes angry. Our instinct is to fight against the hand that tells us no more candy. Or the love that says, this is best. I know.

I think about it too, when we start to sing on Sunday morning. Sometimes it's hard to hear the piano over lusty two year old lungs. We nod and smile and love it, and then suppose that our praise sounds more lovely to a Heavenly ear.

But surely our praise seems much like the babies, with every clue and no clue, taking ourselves quite seriously.

A friend recounted a worship service she attended at the old folk's home the other day. It was apparently complete with camp meeting hymns and the keyboard player wore a wig.

God most definitely has a sense of humour, we concluded. And who knows that our own worship is sometimes not as scattered, funny, hopeful, and given much grace before the throne of its beginning.

He loves us and I sometimes forget that this love is not because I'm managing to keep it together. He is the Father who watches me frown, arms crossed and leads me through repentance and making it right.

He is the Father who hears my voice in song, and smiles because I have so much to learn.

He is the Father...And the lines have fallen in pleasant places indeed, for I am his little child.


~Olivia

'Tis Almost Fairy Time

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies."
                                                                                                       J. M. Barrie

 

 

 

 

 

"I felt in my bones; first, that this world does not explain itself. It may be a miracle with a supernatural explanation; it may be a conjuring trick, with a natural explanation. But the explanation of the conjuring trick, if it is to satisfy me, will have to be better than the natural explanations I have heard. The thing is magic, true of false. Second, I came to feel as if magic must have a meaning, and meaning must have some one to mean it. There was something personal in the world, as in a work of art; whatever it meant it meant violently. Third, I thought this purpose beautiful in its old design, in spite of its defects, such as dragons."
                                                                                        - G. K. Chesterton

 

 

 

"Since it is so likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage."

 

                                                                                   - C.S. Lewis

 

 

 

"I have explained that the fairy tales founded in me two convictions; first, that this world is a wild and startling place, which might have been quite different, but which is quite delightful; second, that before this wildness and delight one may well be modest and submit to the queerest limitations of so queer a kindness."

                                                                                                           - G. K. Chesterton

 

 

"'That is what makes life at once so splendid and so strange. We are in the wrong world. When I thought that was the right town, it bored me; when I knew it was wrong, I was happy. So the false optimism, the modern happiness, tires us because it tells us we fit into this world. The true happiness is that we don't fit. We come from somewhere else. We have lost our way.'"

                                                                                                     G.K. Chesterton

"I laid out the laws of reality. Butterflies and lightning do not strike twice. And then God spoke.

'Do you see this man? He said to my son. 'He is your father. Do not believe a word he says.'

The second time the butterfly landed on his arm.

How many lies have I told him? I and the world both. I have repented now. I no longer tell him that he can't touch the moon from my shoulders. I tell him to stretch, and I offer to run and jump. There may be a dragon in the mulberries. I make sure to check. And I look for fish under the couch."

                                                                                                    - N. D. Wilson

"This is exactly the message that fairy tales get across to the child in manifold form: that a struggle against severe difficulties in life is unavoidable, is an intrinsic part of human existence - but that if one does not shy away, but steadfastly meets unexpected and often unjust hardships, one masters all obstacles and at the end emerges victorious."

                                                                                             - Bruno Bettelheim

Sometimes you just need to invite a dozen church children over to make sure they have not forgotten about the unseen - that to possess the unseen is to possess everything. And that is faith.


- Millie