* not with ink

Journal entry, dated September 19, 2016 We are into the fall routine. It is full, and I worry about dropping the ball on so many little details, and yet in the evenings I flop on the couch, or the bed, or a chair. I stop working, I stop thinking. I hold my phone too close to my face. I check Twitter and Instagram, then Facebook. I cycle through. I play Candy Crush, use up my available lives, and check all the sites again while I wait for the next life to load. I am not proud of this. I read many interesting things online - recipes, life-hacks, personal essays, posts of people I admire from afar. I measure their lives against my own. Then, to make myself feel better about all the holes and gaps, I measure my life against the people I don't admire, the people who irk me, who have hurt me in the past - I keep them available for this purpose. It's a game in which we're all losers. --- I am not writing much these days. I am not journaling, I am not blogging, I am def...

It's ten pm. There's a pie in the oven. I made ginger snaps while the piemaker peeled and chopped. We chatted as we worked, and laughed, and kissed a few times. I'm putting together a pump-me-up playlist of lady-songs and trying not to stress about what I'm not getting done. Tomorrow I have homework to do - a whole semester to map out and plan for. And there is work-work to do too. I gave up one job so I could get through this last semester, but took on another theoretically smaller one. It's a good job, one I hope to carry on after graduation. It's been a long time since we've had a night like this, one where we've left the TV off, had the energy to do relaxing things, where I've thought, Maybe I'll write on the blog. -- I know we're closer to the end of January than the start, but I might say a thing or two about resolutions anyway. I don't make resolutions. Or rather, I don't like to broadcast my goals, and scienc...

It's the week after Christmas. NYE. The chaos has (mostly) died down, and we're all recuperating, right? This year, Christmas Day was quiet for us; gifts don't take long when there are only two of you. I made cinnamon buns, and then butternut squash soup. We missed (and then watched) the Queen's Christmas message, and a fascinating episode of The Nature of Things  about Stonehenge and its neolithic history. And then after dinner, I cried. Despite the near perfection of the day, especially its lack of busy-ness, I felt overwhelmed by life, by the reality of family expectations, by life change, and by my inability to pinpoint exactly what I "want" in life - especially in light of my nearly-complete Master's degree. "It just doesn't end," I cried, "I feel like it's all too much. Is this what the next 30 years will be like??" The next day I sat chatting with two quite delightful moms of young kids. Both readily admitt...

Throughout this series, I've been thinking about my friends who feel their families are in some way "incomplete." That is, the family they long for or once had or almost had is not their current reality. There's a loss, a lack, an absence that stays with them. This is true for almost all of us, in one way or another. Maybe an adult parent or sibling has died. Maybe there is estrangement that can't be overcome. Maybe we've experienced a miscarriage, stillbirth, or very early death. Maybe a divorce, or a widowing. Maybe there is simply the lack of a partner. We live in a world of loss, imperfection, and incompletion. We long for what we do not have. We grieve what we once held. This is not something we can remedy. But it is something we can give space for, something we can recognize and maybe assume, and treat gently.  -- I've loved the conversations that I have had both on and offline because of this series. Thank you all, once again, for particip...

When I wrote about the possibility of infertility, many of you said I was courageous for sharing my story. I'm grateful, and, as always, encouraged by your responses and kind words. But can I be honest? This topic is way more scary to me. It's scary because my fertility is something I have no control over - there is no shame for me in that, no regrets or if-onlys. But my choices about career-building are exactly that - choices. I have agency in these decisions, and that agency opens me up to errors, fear, judgment, and so much more. And where I stand - not quite a year into marriage, with two terms left in my masters degree, it's all a tangled bundle of thoughts and feelings and desires and uncertainty, and internal pressure, and offhand comments, and impossibility. It's impossible to do it perfectly. It's impossible to have everything I want. It's impossible to defend my decisions to the world. This creates a great deal of inner turmoil for me...

This is my story. From the time I was hardly more than a toddler, I knew I wanted to be a mother. I have loved babies (and kids) for as long as I can remember. Having babies of my own was always an assumption in my life. Until I hit 25. And was still unmarried. And I started thinking that maybe I would never be in a stable, long-term relationship. And then there was another factor. The biological one. A friend of mine had stopped getting her period a few years earlier; when she finally went to the doctor, she discovered she was in danger of developing osteoporosis. When I heard her story, I grimaced internally. My own period had been on the decline over the past few years; I'd never been "regular" and by 25, I was maybe getting it twice a year. To be honest, I didn't mind too much. It's not like anyone I know enjoys  having their period. In the back of my mind had been the fear of infertility, but it seemed so remote, so far off. I hadn't thought about...

In the fall of 2006, I moved to Vancouver. My first weekend there, I made an IKEA run with a friend to purchase furniture for my tiny new bedroom, as one does. We were walking out of the store, pushing a trolley with a stack of boxes, when my phone rang. It was my older brother and his wife, calling to tell me that they were pregnant. I remember being so  excited, but also very aware that the distance between Vancouver and Ontario was significant enough that I wasn't going to be present for most of the milestones this would lead to. I wondered how to involve myself from far away. I started realizing that it's my responsibility to contribute to these relationships, that I needed to be intentional in what I wanted to build. This phone call kick-started a change in how I think about family. It was the first moment that I realized being an adult  in the family is completely different than being a kid. (this post, I realize, is less of a woman's issue and more of a grown-u...

Y'all know I'm not afraid to open up the big ol' taboo box and pick a topic and then wave around a brightly lit flag that says, "OVER HERE! LOOK OVER HERE AT WHAT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT." I've done it before. And I want to do it again. -- It's the start of August, and the closest I have to vacation time this year, so I think it's time for some straight talk about big things, thoughts that have been rolling around in my head for awhile, questions that keep me up at night, and dilemmas that, quite frankly, need more attention. Let's get real. Let's talk about some lady things. Now before you men run off and say, "OH, OKAY, SEE YOU LATER," I'd like to ask you to stick around . Because all men have women in their families, and likely have lady-friends, and lady-colleagues, and other kinds of relationships that involve ladies, whether professional or personal. And  I (almost) guarantee you that these posts will help you und...

Last week, my placement tasked me with unpacking my "personal experience theology" - writing, sharing, and discussing my personal theology around many interrelated topics. As I wrote out definitions and thought about my experience of certain concepts, I was encouraged, challenged, and a little bit nervous. And then I shared it with my colleagues, and they asked me a bazillion questions, and pointed out common themes, and shared their insights into my insights, and it was lovely and terrifying and gave me lots of food for thought. And now I'm going to share some of these 'personal statements' with you. And, as always, I would love to hear your thoughts on my thoughts... Evil –  actively harming another, disregarding their autonomy and/or humanity, using them for personal pleasure or gain without their consent, intentionally deceiving  – when I think of my own personal experience of evil, I think of two types – my own temptations towards evil, towards disreg...

At 14 months, my genius-baby-nephew has named me Bep . I'm in love with this name. Because it comes in a growly little voice full of spunk and love. Toddler-love is one of the best therapies out there. Nothing sets my heart at rest like attention and affection from a small child. Even from afar, it makes me so. very. happy. (Thanks, Sarah, for sharing a whole series of these videos with me. They're all on repeat.)

95. That is how old Grampie is, as of today. Can we think about this for a moment? Ninety-five years. That is a lot of living. A lot. I'm going to be celebrating this amazing man with my family this weekend. In case you've forgotten (or don't yet know) why I love my grandpa so dang much, here are a few other things I've written about him: It is strange and almost impossible for me to imagine him as a young man, gaunt and dirty and living in a trench for weeks on end. Seeing death come to those around him. Sending death to visit others. It hurts my heart. It makes me wish I could do something, sixty-five years later, to fix him; help him; give him back the innocence I don't even realize I carry with me. - A few weeks ago, I called Grampie...Our conversation, of course, turned to the war, and ... he made a connection I've never heard from him before. "You want to know what we saw? Just watch the news. The same things are still happening to...

Two thank yous: 1. All y'all who have said kind things since I made my grad school announcement. I have been surprised by the range of people it turns out are reading (or at least read one post) here. And I can't imagine a more encouraging community than you all. 2. Nadine, whose tweets yesterday led to a comment that I can use disqus on my site, which is (hopefully) going to change commenting forever. No more word verification! Let me know if disqus is somehow (inconceivably) worse than those awful captchas. I am certain we'll all be happier now. And a bonus round picture of the world's most adorable men. Grampie and Sebas hanging out... I can't stop looking and smiling. I hope when I am 94 I have both the ability and the opportunity to lie on the floor and play with a fat-cheeked baby.

It is Sunday morning, and I am headed to church for the first time in three weeks. I have opened my Bible once in the same timeframe. This is not how I want things to be, but it is how things are, and I do not feel guilty. There is no condemnation for those in Jesus, and for once, I feel that freedom. But I am not unaware of Easter, and its central importance in my life. It is all around me. I understand joy as we pass around the downy-headed, chubby-cheeked baby, each of us prouder than the last. I believe in hope because I see my brother kiss his wife, see the kids climb all over them, hear laughter. I see faith in the way my parents still choose to turn towards each other, thirty-seven years after making their vows. I experience grace, over and over,  from the brother who refrains from beating me up each time I call him the baby, from these hearts that know my ugly, selfish ways better than anyone. This is love. This is life. This is Easter morning, the kingdom ...

Guys. Guys. Guys. I have a new nephew! This is important because BABIES! BABIES. Cute little beige baby with lots of hair and a big head (the midwives said so). Sebastian Gabriel. me: "Ah! I can't wait to squeeze him!" his mom: "You can't squeeze him. You can hold him gently." me: "Just a little squeeze? A baby-appropriate squeeze." I'm very proud of my sister. Although she had no control over this, she was less than four hours from the first contractions to baby's birth. I find this impressive! Particularly for a first child. If I ever have a baby, I am certainly hoping I've got the same fast-birthing genes. Is it genetic? I don't even know. Well done, Momma. Congratulations, Lalo & Sarah. Welcome to the world, Sebas. Photos coming, as soon as I can get myself to Guelph to take some.

First stop on the Christmas train is a pedicure with the ladies - it's become an annual tradition that my mom treats my sisters & I to foot care & dinner...it's a bit fun, wandering through a mall in flip-flops in the middle of winter. We get some looks, which always makes me laugh. Oh wait! Pre-boarding on the Christmas train was an e-reader from my boss (it is difficult to balance the thoughtfulness of a fantastic gift with my day-to-day discontent in the job) and an incredible meal of Spanish tapas with Karen . We ate. so. much. And laughed even more. I can't even explain... Back at the parents' - church visit to see delightful friends on Sunday. Coffee with cute-as-a-button-Baby-Makaela and her mom. Christmas tree decorating. Sound of Music and tree decorating with Grampie. Love him fiercely. Also love that movie fiercely. Sleep. Sweet sleep Oil change for the borrowed car while I visit with my sister and read and lounge. It's handy having a me...

Chatting with my American friend Teagen this morning, and conversation turned to tomorrow's holiday. She expressed concern about the current big-meal plan, wondering if the plans will be amenable to all involved.... Teagen: as i said, hopefully it will all work out : ) me: i'm sure it will. Besides, Thanksgiving isn't thanksgiving without a bit of tension and drama, right???   (ha.) Teagen: it's true. that's why i always get annoyed with people that avoid their families on thanksgiving. DEALWITHIT. wait, that deserves a hashtag #DEALWITHIT me:  yes. your uncle only wants to watch NFL and not talk to anyone? #DealWithIt the kids are running around screaming because they each ate 3 pieces of pie? #DealWithIt your grandma fell asleep at the table? #DealWithIt that's family. it's how we roll. #DealWithIt Teagen: The turkey is over/under-cooked #dealwithit NO ONE IS HELPING WITH THE DISHES??? #DEALWITHIT you don't like pie? TOOBAD #deal...

Any chance you, my delightful Guelph reader, were walking along Edinburgh near Speedvale the other day and said hello to my Grampie? He didn't recongize you (his memory is not as sharp as it once was), but apparently you had read about him online and called him "Grampie," which means you must have visited this site once or twice... We're just curious about who it was. It makes him so happy when people say hello, so please, feel free to do so anytime!!

February 28, 2013 is a special day for two reasons.  First, my Grampie will turn 94. Yesterday, he marched in the Remembrance Day parade with many other veterans. He said he probably won't march next year. He also implied he probably won't be around for it next year. A distinct possibility, but one I don't like to think about.  You all know that my Grampie is one of my greatest heroes. I would like to sit down and share some thorough and thoughtful stories about yesterday - his Scripture reading at church, walking with him - very out of place in the veterans' parade, and the laughter of lunch as he told stories to some of my favourite friends. But there isn't the time today to shape all those words. I have shaped them, in my mind. I shape them each time I hug him goodbye and wonder if it might be my last visit with him. I shape them whenever I see a soldier, or when I pass a cenotaph. When Grampie does  go home to be with Jesus and his brown-eyed swee...

The long bus ride to Guelph was worth it last night. Worth it to laugh with my siblings, parents and grandparents. Worth it to snuggle with the wee ones. Worth it to eat chocolate fondue by the spoonful. Worth it to celebrate my mother's 60th birthday. "I can own up to 50," she told me earlier in the day, "But I don't feel 60." I think that's fair. I like to think of her as 50ish as well. Am I the only one who finds it difficult to let my parents become the grandparents? Who sometimes feels a pang of fear that people my parents' age are retiring, slowing down, occasionally dying? I was thinking yesterday about this fear of aging, the inability to wrap my head around it and embrace it...but I'm getting to somber for this particular post. Back to the point. Here are some photos that take us back to when my mom was hardly 40...and I was maybe 10. My dad looks essentially the same today, although his glasses are slightly smaller. ...

Dandelions CP Originally uploaded by bethaf . Sometimes dandelions are lovely and fun. I haven't taken photos for a long time, and it was fun to capture the hilarity and love of my brother and sister-in-law and their kidlets.