A black skirt and an old friend

by | May 30, 2006 | Uncategorized

I’m wearing one of my favourite skirts today. It’s long and black and funky, with embroidered designs and black beads around the bottom. It’s filmy and flowing – like a peasant skirt without the wrinkles.

I’ve had this skirt for about 14 years. It hung in the back of my closet for quite awhile, abandoned because the elastic was shot and I didn’t bother to fix it for a long time. But now it’s been revived and it’s back near the front of the closet where it gets pulled out and worn nearly once a week. I like to wear it with a black shirt and a purple silk scarf slung jauntily around my neck.

The skirt was a gift from Kari, my room-mate and best friend at the time. She spent a few months in London, during which time she sent me raunchy postcards from Soho, and when she came back, she brought me the skirt.

I miss Kari. I think it’s been ten years since I saw her. She came to visit me in the hospital when Nikki was born, and I think that’s the last I saw of her. Maybe because I got caught up in starting a family (Julie came shortly after Nikki, so I got a little overwhelmed), and got too busy to invest much energy in friendships, we drifted apart. She moved around a bit, I lost her phone number, and now I no longer know how to find her.

A couple of years ago, I was walking from work to the University to meet Marcel, and when I got there, he said “you’ll never guess who I just saw.” It was Kari, and she was carrying a little boy – her son. She was running late and didn’t have time to wait to see me, so I missed her. She didn’t leave her number. Poof, she disappeared again. I didn’t get to see her little boy.

I don’t have a very good track record for hanging onto friends. They either move away, or we drift apart, and I don’t bother to call. It makes me sad. I’ve had some incredible friends over the years – soulmates who own pieces of my heart – but I’ve let them float away into the great unknown.

Kari was one of the best. We had so much fun together. She brought out the “crazy” in me, because she was much more uninhibited than me. We told each other wild secrets, we kept each other sane when our other roommate was driving us crazy, we marched in protests together, we stayed up late laughing and concocting weird food combinations – we did all the things twenty-something girls are supposed to do when they share an apartment and haven’t gotten weighed down with a lot of responsibilities yet.

I think I should look Kari up again – call her parents or something. I need to let her know I still wear the skirt and I still think of her whenever I do.

Kari – if you stumble across this blog, call me.

When God shows up for church

by | May 29, 2006 | Uncategorized

God was at church Sunday morning. Imagine that! I don’t think God always bothers to show up at church, because people don’t necessarily want him there. Actually, he probably shows up anyway, and waits in the wings for someone to invite him in, but sometimes he leaves disappointed because no-one makes space for him.

This Sunday, he was there, eager to meet us when we arrived. It started with the music. He liked the music. I think he liked the fact that we mixed it up a bit and had the music team play from the back of the room.

He was there when I got up to welcome the gatherers. I could see him smiling from the rain outside the window. He chuckled while I prayed, and let loose a mighty crash of thunder just before I said amen.

He was there when Rob got up to speak too. I think he likes hearing Rob speak, because he knows authenticity when he sees it. He recognizes the humility in Rob’s heart, just like the rest of us do. Humility makes him feel like he’s got something to work with.

When everyone was finished speaking and singing, and there was silence, he seemed especially happy. He likes it when we shut up for a change and let him get a word in edge-wise. He doesn’t always get it why we think we have to fill so much of our time with words. He keeps hoping that humans will evolve in our ability and willingness to communicate in the stillness.

He came with me to the centre of the labyrinth and knelt beside me on the floor. As I walked back to the edges, he stuck beside me, reminding me he’s not just a “centre of the labyrinth” kind of god. I didn’t talk much and neither did he. We just hung out as we walked. I enjoyed the company and he did too.

He was in the kids’ room too, watching them make shields out of cardboard and tinfoil. I think he probably has the most fun there, because kids know how to be real and don’t stop to worry about whether they’re “doing church right”. He likes to hear them laugh and he takes pleasure in the dancing and creativity. Sometimes, he just stays in the Kidventure room, because it gets a little stuffy and boring where the adults are.

He hung around after church too, because he really likes potlucks. There’s something about people gathering around a table, he says, that makes him want to stick around. Potlucks are some of his favourite moments, because people share food, eat together, have good conversations, exchange recipes, clean up together and just basically “do community” without putting on a big show or getting all formal on him.

Even after the potluck, he lingered, because he wanted to be with us while we celebrated the newest member of our church family. He loves celebrations – especially where children are concerned. There’s something about a baby celebration that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy and, most of all, hopeful.

After church, he climbed into our cars with us and offered to stick with us for the rest of the week. Some of us took him along, and some of us told him we’d prefer it if he’d stay at church until next Sunday.

(Note: feel free to substitute “she” for “he” in the above. I don’t think God minds.)

I guess it’s just not my day today

by | May 26, 2006 | Uncategorized

First of all, I arrived at work on my bike (in biking attire), went to the bathroom to change into my work attire, and discovered that I’d forgotten to bring a shirt to wear under my blazer. So here I am, wearing my stinky biking t-shirt under a businessy suit. And wouldn’t ya know it – there’s a stain on the collar of the shirt because I wore this particular stinky sweaty biking t-shirt the last time I coloured my hair.

And why am I WEARING a businessy suit when I usually dress more casually? Well, I had to “work the booth” at a United Church conference this morning, and thus had to do some of that small talk that I loathe. Standing at a booth trying to engage people who are trying to avoid your eye is not my idea of a good time, ESPECIALLY when I’m feeling self-conscious about wearing a stained stinky sweaty bike shirt.

AND as I was walking to the conference – a little late because I’d tried to buy a cheap replacement shirt at a bargain store but had no luck – I decided to jaywalk to get there a little faster. I started to dart across the street, and realized that I would be obstructing the traffic that was turning and had the right of way. Not only that, but one of the cars stopped at the intersection was a POLICE CAR. Fortunately, he had better things to do than give me a jaywalking ticket.

I think I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon in my office hiding in my stinky stained not-so-sweaty-anymore biking shirt.

Chatting with strangers

by | May 25, 2006 | Uncategorized

With 2 of our daughters on soccer teams which play on alternate nights, we spend a majority of our evenings sitting on the sidelines of soccer fields these days. It’s not a bad way to spend an evening. We usually bike there and back, so it’s been a great way to get the family out for bike rides. It’s been a pleasant spring – very little rain, and just a few really cool days.

Because we usually go as a family, Maddie has no choice but to come along. She doesn’t mind, especially when it’s a field with a play-structure close by or when Julie’s best friend’s little sister is there for her to play with.

Last night was one of those nights when there was neither play structure nor best friend’s little sister in the near vicinity. So, because she’s not particularly enthralled with soccer yet, she had to find her own entertainment.

For awhile, she borrowed books from the mom next to us who’d come well supplied with Dr. Suess books for her young daughter. Then she bugged me to get her soccer ball out of the car (the game was in Lorette – a little far to bike) and she played with that. Then, when she spotted three kids playing not far away, she ran off to join them. Before long, she’d offered up her soccer ball and they were making up soccer “rules” to imitate their older sisters.

Sometimes, I wish I had Maddie’s boldness. She has always assumed people will like her. Unlike our other 2 daughters, she has no qualms about marching up to unfamiliar children and engaging them in play. She happily borrows books from a strange mom, never worrying whether she is doing the “right” thing. She’ll speak to almost anyone, and only has very rare moments of shyness.

The thing is – when you go through life assuming people will like you, people usually DO. People are drawn to confidence and boldness. Maddie has always made friends easily, and so far I haven’t witnessed any kids being turned off by her straightforward approach. She’s not pushy or anything, just friendly. (No, she’s not perfect either – she WAS getting a little bossy with the soccer rules last night. 🙂

I wish, when I entered an unfamiliar place full of unfamiliar faces, that I could be as bold as she is. I wish I could walk in, confident that when I stopped to introduce myself to a stranger, that person would quickly become my friend.

It’s not that I’m particularly insecure. In fact, I think I come across as quite confident. It’s probably a little ironic, though, that I’m more comfortable speaking in front of a large crowd than I am speaking one-on-one with a stranger. That’s probably why people assume that I’m confident – because I’m a fairly natural public speaker.

I’m just not a great conversation starter. I don’t handle small talk well. I worry about not being interesting enough. I worry about tripping over my tongue and coming across as stupid. I rarely assume people will like me, and usually assume they’d rather be talking to someone else.

I work at it, because I know that I’m always glad when someone takes the time to engage me in conversation and so therefore assume they’d be glad when I do the same for them. It’s just not a very natural thing for me, so it makes me feel awkward. Funny, I know, that I’ve chosen a career in communications when I have trouble talking to strangers at a party for fear of tripping over my tongue. The thing is, I can communicate quite confidently and boldly when I KNOW what I’m communicating about. I’ve even talked quite comfortably with Prime Ministers, because I had a purpose (it’s kinda fun telling Prime Ministers what to do :-). I just have trouble when I’m forging unfamiliar territory and “small talk” is my only tool. To tell you the truth, some people probably think I’m snobby, because I come across as confident on the stage, and then I don’t engage well in conversation when I get off the stage.

It’s the same thing for blogs. When I go on the “popular” blogs – the ones with 25 or more comments on a regular basis – I rarely leave comments. I assume they’ve got enough interesting people surrounding them – they don’t need boring old me. If I make chatty comments, and trip over my tongue/keyboard, perhaps they’ll think “what is SHE doing on my blog?” And yet, I KNOW it’s silly, because I know how much I love and value comments, even if it’s just a simple acknowledgement that you’ve been here.

I suppose we all have elements of insecurity. Some people are amazed that I can get up in front of a crowd and speak without stumbling, and then I, in turn, am amazed at how comfortable they are chatting with strangers.

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