by Heather Plett | Apr 10, 2006 | Uncategorized
Seriously, do I look old enough to be turning 40?
In 40 days, I will turn 40. I thought it would freak me out. I thought it would depress me. I thought I’d feel a little panicky about being old and settled like I did when I turned 30 and had just bought our first house, given birth to our first child, and bought our first minivan. But in an odd sort of way, I welcome it. Forty sounds like a good age to be. People take you seriously when you’re forty. You’re young enough to still think youthfully, but old enough to have gained some wisdom along the way.
I feel content. I’m at a good place to be approaching a milestone like this. I’ve gotten good at a few things, had a few accomplishments along the way, learned from lots of mistakes, continued to find opportunities to be foolish and carefree, traveled to some interesting places, had some great relationships, found my soulmate and worked hard at making our marriage work, watched my children grow into interesting little people, had some interesting and challenging jobs, followed my passions, and found ways to touch people and let them touch me along the way. Don’t get me wrong – there have been lots of road bumps, some tragedies and really dark places, fear, loneliness, and more than one utter failure, but all of that has only helped the molding and shaping of me into a person I quite like to be.
One of the greatest things about getting older is that you get more comfortable in your skin – you’re more willing to learn from other people and less concerned about proving that you have stuff figured out, you know yourself better, you’ve figured out some of the things that make you happy, and you get better at discerning which risks are worth taking.
Not long ago, there was an article in the paper written by a woman who was turning thirty with much dread and resistance. She lamented the lines on her face, the grey hairs popping up, and all the other physical signs that she was not as young as she once was. Short of plastic surgery, she was doing almost everything she could to stop the aging process. The woman who wrote the story is a friend and former employee of mine. I hired her for her first “real” job, and I mentored her and had an influence in her life. I like her – quite a bit – but the article saddened me. I was sad that she hadn’t learned to embrace the aging process. I was sad that she fought what nature had in mind for her. After I saw the article, I looked in the mirror at the deepening lines in my face and decided that I would embrace them, whatever the cost. The lines in my face tell a story – they map my history. They make my face more gentle and maybe a little more wise. I don’t want a twenty-year-old face when I have a forty-year-old soul.
As I look toward the next decade of my life, I feel incredibly hopeful about the future. The little bits of wisdom I’ve picked up along the journey have helped me see the future through clearer, more interesting lenses. At thirty, the future looked a little scary and heavy. With a new mortgage, a new baby, and a fairly new marriage, I felt like I was picking up the world and placing it firmly on my shoulders. I felt so unprepared and inexperienced. I didn’t feel quite ready for the next ten years. Now, ten years later, with our second mortgage and our third child, I feel so much more experienced and more prepared for the next decade. Life gets easier with experience.
At forty, I have so much to look forward to. I look forward to having more time on my hands as my children get older and need me less. I look forward to needing less money to survive (or at least not being the sole bread-winner in the house) and being able to do more things because I’m passionate about them and fewer things because I get a pay cheque for doing them. I look forward to learning more things from interesting and creative people. I look forward to teaching more people some of the interesting things I’ve learned in my 40 years. I look forward to trying new things – like painting – I’ve always wanted to learn to paint. I look forward to watching my children figure out what their gifts are, and I look forward to letting them teach me things. I look forward to reading more, playing more, creating more, learning more, seeing more, doing more, teaching more, eating more, loving more, and understanding more.
To help me bring on this hopeful future, I’ve decided that, for the next forty days, I will go on a bit of a personal pilgrimage. You could call it a belated lent season, I suppose. To be more prepared for all the “mores” I have ahead of me, I want to spend a little time making sure I’m healthy enough, both physically and spiritually, to get the most out of them. Here’s what I plan to do:
1. Spend at least 15 minutes a day doing something for my physical health. Mostly, it will probably be walking or biking (this morning was a good start!), but I think I might try a few new things. I’m thinking of signing up for yoga. Sometimes I’ll do things with the kids – like swimming on a Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll try to eat less compulsively and more mindfully (I’m still waiting for the book I ordered – Eating Mindfully).
2. Spend at least 15 minutes a day doing something for my spiritual health. I want to read the Bible more, pick up some good books that inspire me, pray, meditate, listen to spiritual teachings, etc. If possible, I’d like to walk the labyrinth again. I’ve been doing a little reading on mindfulness and meditation, and I want to make it more a part of my life.
3. Spend at least 15 minutes a day refreshing my creative spirit. I’m dusting off my copy of The Artist’s Way, and picking up the follow-up piece, Walking in this World that I bought a few years ago but never got around to reading. I’ll try to do some morning pages, maybe go on some “artist’s dates”, listen to good music, write some poetry, and try my hand at some new forms of creativity (like maybe some collages – something my daughters will probably enjoy participating in too).
4. Take a day (or at least a portion of a day) for a personal retreat. I’ve done this before and it’s a wonderful way to regroup and refresh. I may head out to St. Benedict’s again, or find another worshipful/peaceful place to spend a day.
I’ll be gentle on myself along the way. I won’t be too strict – sometimes the above activities will be combined (like a meditative walk through an art gallery, perhaps), and mostly I’ll forgive myself if I slip up. I’ll be gentle on my family too – I’ll look for opportunities to include them on the pilgrimage. And at the end of the 40 days, I may or may not continue – for now I only commit to the 40 days.
When I turn forty, forty days from now, I plan to indulge myself in something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I want to jump out of a plane – with a parachute attached, that is. I figure that will be a fitting way to round out my 40 day pilgrimage. Hopefully, it will be an energized, invigorated me jumping out of that plane and drifting down to earth. Whatever the case, at least I’ll have one more thing to add to the “great moments in my life” list when I turn 50.
(By the way, if anyone wants to join me for the jump, either to watch or participate, let me know!)
by Heather Plett | Apr 10, 2006 | Uncategorized
I made it to work this morning. On my bike. And I’m still alive! My legs feel like they’ve been replaced by tubes of jell-o, and I kept company with Mr. Turtle along the way (at least I didn’t stop to flirt with pretty rabbits, like Mr. Hare), but I made it. Another summer of biking has begun. Yay!
Oh – and I saw a FROG! It really IS Spring!
by Heather Plett | Apr 7, 2006 | Uncategorized
It’s not a picture that would stop you in your tracks if it were hanging in a gallery. In fact, you’d pass by and probably wonder if you could get your money back for this exhibit. No, it’s not exhibit-worthy or even frame-worthy. If you had taken it, in fact, it might be one of the pictures you’d cull rather than place in your photo album.
It’s a completely ordinary picture, but it’s hanging on my office wall in a place of honour – right next to my computer where I can see it while I work. It’s a picture of a patch of sunny yellow dandelions, growing near a wall. In the bottom corner of the picture is a shadow – clearly the shadow of the person who leaned over to take the picture.
Why is this picture on my wall? Let me explain.
Two and a half years ago, my Dad was killed in a farm accident. His death tore a huge hole in my life, and left me reeling from the pain. It’s true that “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” My Dad had always been a constant in my life – a source of wisdom, humour, stability, and inspiration – but I didn’t fully recognize any of this until death snatched him away.
When we were cleaning out the farm house, in preparation for the sale of the farm and mom’s move to the city, we found something that Dad had left behind – a camera. It was an inexpensive disposable camera and the film inside was full of the last pictures Dad had taken before he died. At the time, it seemed almost too much to cope with, so we set it aside and nearly forgot about it. My sister held onto it, always with the intention that she would eventually develop the pictures and share them with the rest of the family. I don’t believe my brothers even knew it existed.
A few months ago, more than 2 years after Dad died, I got an e-mail from my sister. She’d developed the pictures and scanned them. They were all attached to the e-mail. I sat there staring at my computer screen, knowing that I was about to open Dad’s last gift to us, his family. At the same time, I was a little afraid to raise my expectations – the pictures might prove disappointing.
I didn’t open them right away. I had to give myself time to process and prepare. I waited until my children were in bed and I was alone at the computer. I knew the emotions would overwhelm me.
When the first image opened, I breathed in sharply. The now familiar pain of memory poured over on me. It was almost more than I could bear – seeing Dad’s world through his own eyes. The tears began to flow as I clicked slowly from picture to picture.
If ever there was a sacred moment, this was it. It was almost mystical how much those pictures revealed the man we’d lost. Every picture told a little story about his life – what was important to him, where he found beauty, what inspired him, and where he spent many hours of his days.
All of the pictures were taken on the farm, a place he loved to be like no other place on earth. Every picture tells of his love of creation and his respect for the earth. The range of pictures spans a whole year – showing a view from every season. There are growing gardens, flowering trees, sheep, geese flying over the water – these are all things that my dad loved with almost a child-like enthusiasm. I remember times when he’d drag me across the yard, just to see a new bud poking through the earth or a new calf taking its first step. I remember the calendar entries in the Spring – “first sign of geese”, “frogs croaking.” This was a man who knew how to enjoy the beauty and surprises in creation.
Some of the pictures are of people he loved. One picture shows Mom with her bicycle, one of her favourite possessions. Another one shows two of my daughters in the garden. In one winter picture, I’m standing beneath a tree, peering into the branches at someone I believe is my nephew.
A few of the pictures must have been taken by mom, because Dad is in them. My second favourite picture (also hanging on my wall) portrays him carrying a yellow bucket, amidst a herd of sheep. Dad loved sheep. He owned them just because they fascinated him so much. He particularly liked the imagery in the Bible where followers of Jesus are compared to sheep with a shepherd. In Dad’s sheep pasture, near the highway, was a sign that read “My sheep hear my voice and they follow me.”
That brings us back to the dandelion picture. What makes this one special? Well, just like sheep, Dad had a special love affair with dandelions. He thought they were among the most underappreciated gifts of God’s creation. He believed that not enough people stopped to look at dandelions – to really appreciate them.
Now you can understand why a picture that shows a shadow of Dad leaning over to take a picture of dandelions is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received in my life. And the gift goes far beyond the picture. The real gift is having had the privilege to be raised by a man who taught me how to marvel at little things like dandelions, to see God’s hand in everything, and to let even those things that others call weeds teach me something valuable.
Here, for your reverent viewing pleasure, are my favourite pictures. The next time you see a dandelion, think of my Dad, and breathe a little prayer of thanks. (Cuppa, I still remember the tribute you did last year – I was so touched!)
by Heather Plett | Apr 6, 2006 | Uncategorized
I’ve got a bit of a buzz going today, ‘cause there have been lots of fun surprises lately. Sometimes in life it just feels like a door opens up and the world starts throwing little gifts through it. I’ve been on the receiving end of that door lately. All of them are fun and most of them are exciting because they may open up even more doors. Here are a few of them:
1. I got my advance copies of Geez Magazine today – dropped off by the editor himself. On page 87 of this fun and irreverent magazine (whose subtitle is “holy mischief in an age of fast faith”) is an article by yours truly! Here I am doing that dance again!
2. Yesterday I had a very cool lunch with Steve Bell, who’s an awesome singer-songwriter (who also happens to be a Juno winner – that’s the Canadian equivalent of the Grammies). It looks like Steve and I will probably work on a music video project together. What fun! Steve is a really amazing person to talk to – full of passion and ideas and lots of deep thoughts.
3.Steve put me in touch with another guy, an editor of another magazine who’s working on building a community/network of people involved in arts/faith/creativity – something I’ve been longing to be involved in for awhile. After lunch, I e-mailed him, and we’re getting together for lunch next week! More fun!
4. When I got back from lunch with Steve, I got an e-mail from my old friend Ian Ross (also known as Joe from Winnipeg). Ian and I used to write and produce plays together back in the day. Since then, he’s gone and gotten himself famous (won the Governor General’s award for playwriting – the highest award you can get in this country) and we’ve lost touch. I ran into him last year, and now we’re finally getting back in touch. I think we’ll do lunch soon.
5. Earlier this week, I also had lunch with a very cool writer, and one of my best friends – Michele. Michele is busy writing her second text book. I only wish text books had been written by cool people like Michele back when I was a student.
So you see I’m on a bit of an artsy/creative buzz after all these serendipitous pieces started falling into my lap. (It also sounds like I’m doing a little name-dropping, but I really DO know all these cool people!) I love it when I get to hang out with people who inspire me and make me want to be more creative. All of the above moments had that affect on me.
by Heather Plett | Apr 3, 2006 | Uncategorized
1. para-sailing in Mexico
2. seeing my babies for the first time (I guess that’s technically 3 great moments, but who’s counting?)
3. learning to do a 360 on a kneeboard (pulled behind a boat)
4. hiking to the top of Sulfur Mountain
5. taking the incline railway up to the misty top of the mountain in Interlachen, Switzerland and hiking back down
6. sleeping in a tent on a farm in Kenya
7. hiking to the ocean in Washington State and watching my dad carve his name on the boardwalk (and carry home some rope washed up on the shore)
8. sneaking into Green Gables on Prince Edward Island
9. taking a boat out onto a very deep lake in Montana on our honeymoon
10. boarding my first flight on a family trip to Edmonton
11. saying “I do”
12. riding the tram-car in San Fransisco and shouting “Oh no, not the bunny cuffs!” to the street performer (along with other members of my somewhat crazy family)
13. watching my brother Dwight eat a six-inch high canned-meat sandwich somewhere in a park in B.C.
14. riding the ferry from England to Belgium and meeting up with my sister, ccap, at the ferry station
15. sitting on the beach at White Lake watching my children play
16. eating at the Russian Tea Room in New York City
17. sitting on the side of Norquay Mountain watching the meteorite shower with my husband
18. watching my brothers and husband jump off the waterfall at Rainbow Falls
19. eating crepes in Quebec City (I won’t mention the OTHER things we did in Quebec City, but suffice it to say, it was a very romantic weekend!)
20. seeing elephants and zebras and giraffes and lions in the Serengetti
21. backpacking in Banff with my sister-in-law
22. watching fireworks at Ile des Chenes
23. eating watermelon with extended family near the playhouse at Mom and Dad’s farm
24. sleeping on the deck of a ship on the Mediterranean
25. riding horses with my brother and closest childhood friend, Julie
26. laughing about magic soap on a snowy trip to Denver
27. sitting around the campfire at Carberry Bible Camp
28. a cooking class and a bottle of wine with Linda, Michele, and ccap
29. seeing my name in print the first time I got published (and every time since)
30. our first weekend in the camper, at Hecla Island, when we told family members we were expecting Maddie
31. sitting on a quiet beach at Korfu, Greece after everyone else had gone home for the day
32. eating butter chicken and listening to good music at the Folk Festival (again, multiple moments, but I can’t pick one particular favourite)
33. sleeping on the rocks on an island in Lake of the Woods (until it started to rain)
34. riding a glass elevator up the CN Tower while on a high school band trip
35. riding down into the Royal Gorge in the snow
36. hearing the word “mommy” for the first time
37. stepping across the finish-line of a 20 mile walk-a-thon when I was six years old
38. watching my dad win the stooking contest at Austin Thresherman’s Reunion
39. going to the Sarah McLachlan concert with ccap
40. sleeping next to an open window in a hostel in Venice, with the sounds of party boats floating down the canal
Ah, it’s been a good life so far!
