13 Hours of Rain

A Pandemic. Yes, it has hit our earth quicker than I ever imagined when I penned my last post. COVID-19 was in its infancy as 2019 came to a close. On March 11, 2020, the World Health Organization declared the pneumonia-like illness, with zoonotic origins, a global threat to humanity. Shortly thereafter, schools suspended face-to-face instruction, non-essential businesses closed their doors and the aviation industry dramatically slowed down. Fourteen day quarantines were ordered for international travelers and anyone with flu-like symptoms (especially a dry cough, fever or difficulty breathing) were asked to isolate. Fast forward to now where all mainstream media feeds are saturated with updates on number of cases, number of recoveries and number of deaths. Some countries such as Italy, Spain and U.S.A. have been hit hard. Other countries such as South Korea, Japan and Singapore have escaped with low fatality rates. It is an uncertain time to be alive. Today is Good Friday, a day whe...

Much has occurred since the last time I posted. I am one month away from completing my Business Certificate (two more major exams left - yay!). I received a full-time permanent teaching contract for the fall. We have prayed alongside several family and friends as they battled sickness or faced the death of a loved one. School, sports, swimming and piano are coming to an end as we yearn for the slower pace of summer. Through it all, time seems more and more allocated to pursuits other than quiet, intentional reflection. I guess this virtual space (practically void of readership) is my place to think, process, ponder and muse on the issues of life and faith. I have deconstructed many topics in the past as an attempt to arrive at a firm understanding. Some of those understandings remain robust and firm, such as salvation through the Grace of Jesus Christ alone. Others have become more gray-scale and ambiguous. For instance, I am a centrist politically. Now with the polarization of pol...

Four courses and three final exams later, with Christmas and New Year celebrations completed, I find myself in this moment, poised to begin a new term of learning. I feel slightly exhausted as I contemplate the work load ahead. The last four months have taught me a few things about myself. First, I can academically compete with the millennium generation. I am not sure if college became easier or these courses are a perfect fit for me or the instructors are better or my life experience has given me an edge over my competition. Nonetheless, my achievement is the highest it has ever been at this level of learning. Now, keep in mind, while the content is not rocket science, it has been a lot of work. I strove tremendously hard at keeping up and keeping ahead. God has overshadowed me with wisdom! Second, I do not envision myself sitting behind a computer entering numbers into a spreadsheet for a living. I possess a passion to teach, exhort, encourage, motivate, present, inspire, res...

Brokenness surrounds me. Brokenness is also in me. I call myself a double agent, living in two worlds at the local college. I am a student. I am an instructor. Most of my time is dedicated to learning. Accounting. Business Communications. Computers. Economics. My neurons are firing at maximum capacity. I sincerely hope my brain will adapt to the intensity of information being thrown my way. However, the element I failed to anticipate as I interact with classmates and students (who are all younger than me, I'd like to add) is the brokenness intertwined in people's stories. Several students are divorced, single moms, struggling to parent and keep up with their homework. Many of the international students are burdened with low finances. They are also trying to rapidly adapt to a different method of higher education. Others are trying their best to understand the concepts while competing with others. People either assert their dominance by touting their marks or suppress their ...

I know that my readership has dwindled down to practically nil and I sit here typing thoughts to a devoid audience (anyone out there???). Yet, I wish to document this moment of struggle. My teaching contract with the local school board ended in June. There isn't a place for me in the fall. In a need to reduce operating costs to address government cutbacks in education, the fat was trimmed. Extra teachers are a financial drain on the system. Payroll is a huge cost. Thus my exit. I am processing this change with much less grace than I anticipated. Some days I am incredibly sad and end up blubbering through an entire church service, scared that my mascara is creating raccoon eyes on my face. Other days I am filled with anger and regret, screaming all the "why?" questions in my head while plastering on "It is well with my soul" serenity on my exterior. But things are not well. I could swear a blue streak. I understand that I am grieving. I am grievin...

It has been two decades since I snapped on downhill skis and plunged down a slope, all the while praying to God for divine safety. I was in my twenties then and much more adept than now. Yesterday, our family returned from our first skiing adventure. Your Daddy and I thought it was time to introduce you two to another winter sport. We live in Canada, after all. And to thrive in our almost half-a-year winter, embracing some winter sports is essential. By God's grace, we came home with nothing worse than sore bodies. Because of my 20 year skiing void, I enrolled myself in refresher lessons. I was the lone student in my instructor's class. My instructor was less than half my age. But he was kind, encouraging and hopeful in my skills. He progressed me from the bunny hill to the rope tow to the t-bar to the chair lift. In the end, he guided me down the green run, teaching me along the way and always cheering me on. He led me down the hill, pausing when things became difficult. I...

I have 1.25 hours to squeak this entry in before the arrival of 2018 in our prairie time zone. My posts were meager this year, which I sense will be the trend over the next while. I even failed to record all the prayers/verses we attempted to memorize during the latter part of this year. For the record, our Fall was spent on memorizing the Peace Pray of Saint Francis and Colossians 3:12-14 . I wish I could say we know each verse inside-out and backwards. But we don't. We are more familiar with the theme of each passage. 2017 promised to be a year at the cusp of something inspiring. But as I glance over the past 12 months, I survived instead of thrived. The biggest focus of this past year was re-entering my previous life as a teacher. However, many aspects have changed since my last full-time teaching assignment. Two children. New community. New school. New curriculum. New colleagues. New technology. And as I encountered the new, I felt old. I love to teach. That has not cha...

There is a danger in aspiring for the perfect, balanced life. For me, the perfect life is to teach mathematics with exceptional ability and maintain an beautifully organized home with all its nooks and crannies dusted. We own no financial debt and our savings are on track. My children have a fully engaged mother who spends quality time with them through various creative and intellectual pursuits. My daughter and son read fluently, spell with expertise, write with heed to grammar and know all their multiplication facts to 20 by the end of Grade 4. They never cry during piano practice. And they get along with each other like peas and carrots! Everyone is safe and happy and healthy. In that place of utopia, my husband has a devoted wife who creates romantic moments for him that are thoughtful and exhilarating. My meals are creative and delicious every day. All my relationships are well maintained and meaningful. Everyone who knows me as a friend, knows that I care because I am present wi...

There has been a dramatic long pause in my online conversation, one of those moments where you go off on a tangent and come back with the words, "Where was I...?" So... where was I...? I have been teaching and preparing to teach , whether that has been in the classroom as the substitute or in a small room off the church sanctuary co-leading a Small Group with your Daddy. My classroom teaching experience thus far has been mixed. Some days I feel incredibly valued as a few high school students take the extra time to say thank you for a mathematics lesson. Other days I wondering if my time is well spent dealing with disrespectful students who have very little value for my authority. Other times I do wonder if the advancements in cell phone technologies are just one big evil scheme created by a psychopathic control freak out to perpetually distract our youth from the present and trap them in the virtual. Alas, I digress... As budget cuts loom and school boards warn ...

A cup of tea. Honestly, if I had to give up tea for Lent, it would be a challenge. I cherish the moments with I can curl up on the couch with a hot cup of tea between my chilly hands and gaze through our front window. Life slows down in that moment. It is so, so good. Flock of birds taking flight. There is something magical about a flock of birds lifting off and joining the blue expanse. Birds are a marvel of creation. They have inspired air travel and formation flying. Snowflakes. Its unique, one-of-a-kind crystalline structure is awe-inspiring. Its ability to cover a dull landscape and brighten the world during short winter days is refreshing. Real conversations with a friend. I can only take shallow conversations with people for so long. Therefore, real conversations with a friend (or a family member for that matter) where we both can share our hearts is truly a gift from God. Balancing our cheque book. Weird, I know. But I find beautiful satisfaction in crunching numbers...

“If you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one.”  ―  C.S. Lewis ,  The Horse and His Boy Our refugee family as arrived. And they are immensely grateful. I do not know about the atrocities they witnessed or the terror they fled. All I know is the visible signs of thankfulness on their faces as they have left their old home to come to their new home. We are reading "The Horse and His Boy" as a family. It is the story of Shasta, a young boy who is running away from his cruel life in the country of Calormen to the hope in beautiful Narnia. Our family calls this land "Beautiful Canada". :) There are days I get frustrated over my day-to-day life. There are so many things I wish to accomplish. Like learning how to write Hindi, which I never seem to find time for. Or being that amazingly creative Mom with you kids, who has planned all these fantastic summer activities. Or writing Chapter Two of my so-not-pub...

I'm now a every weekday working Mom. I've taken on a part-time temporary position as a Senior Mathematics Teacher at the local high school. I teach Gr. 11 & 12 students, some mathematically gifted, others not so much. For the most part, I am enjoying the experience.  I think. This whole experience of teaching has taught me, once again, how I struggle with contentment. As a substitute teacher, I ached for the opportunity to teach while I grit my teeth over supervising another exam or "babysitting" another work period. Now that I teach a new mathematical concept almost every day, I long for the periods when I can rest my voice and brain and just proctor an exam. Contentment. A very difficult concept to grasp. One I still have not mastered. Earlier, I had the opportunity to sit down with a Mom of one your KG friends, as you two boys played with great enthusiasm. This lady was quite wise, as she reflected on the state of society. Even though she hesitat...

The life of a substitute teacher is far from glamorous. Well, my life in particular. With an availability schedule that is every other day (because of J.'s KG) along with a system that requires the teacher to find their own substitute teacher, I am averaging two calls a month. Definitely not glamorous income-wise. It is difficult not to become discouraged. And for a person like me who thrives under affirmation and avoids situations that lead to failure, I feel exactly that -- a failure. And it is tough, when you know that you are a good teacher -- definitely better than average -- with years of education (sorry if that sounded prideful). Yet, at best, I'm a twice-a-month substitute, carrying out someone else's plans which usually consists of much supervision and glorified "baby-sitting". Ugh. For years, I have felt in control of my destiny. I am a control-freak. Intellectually I know that God is ultimately in control. Yet, I often operate as if it all depend...

September was a month of firsts. First bus ride and day of school for little boy. First day of piano lessons for little girl. First substitute teaching call in this school division for Mommy. Thankfully, we all survived our firsts, and excelled as well. It has also been a month of transition. First lunch at home where I was eating without any member of our family present (weird and kind of eerie). First month where I didn't feel compelled -- or the need -- to attend our church's Mom's group (maybe I'll go one day, maybe I won't). First time in a long time where I am reading my Bible in the morning instead of at night (I get up earlier these days to prepare for potential substitute teaching jobs). I am grateful for these firsts. Motherhood is a journey of change, from the initial swelling of our bellies that shields a tiny being inside to letting our children leave the safety of home to be educated by trained professionals. There is an emotional toll to our rol...

I've wanted to see the movie for quite some time. But the locally owned movie rental store (yes, we still have one) didn't carry it any longer. And we don't subscribe to Netflix. So when we were loaned "The Talented Mr. Ripley" (1999) by a friend, I jumped at the chance to view it. It was thankfully as expected. Fascinating. Intriguing. Disturbing. Some scenes required the "fast forward" button. Other times, you wished to pause the drama to discuss how you could love and hate the main character at the same time. The movie is a psychological thriller, where the main character, Tom Ripley, plots to be become a fake somebody rather than a real nobody. When the real life cast was asked to state the morale of the story, several commented on how we need to find happiness by loving ourselves instead trying to become someone that we are not. While I agree with this morale to a point, I believe there was an element of the movie that was much darker, much sini...

I've entered the play date world. Not the one where I arrange an outing for a Mom and I to visit while our kids play together. But rather the one where a kid randomly shows up at our house and asks, "Can I come over to play?" Or, "Can A. come to my house to play?" Okay, I am a bit of a control freak. I don't think I am as obsessive as the definition of the phrase implies. But I do need a measure of control over aspects of my life and the lives of you children. I don't enjoy just letting people come over "willy-nilly", especially if it happens often. And, it really bothers me when I have no idea if the parent has even allowed their kid to meander over. While I do consider myself a hospitable person who is eager to open our home to others, the introvert side of me cherishes family time without the presence of visitors. As for you visiting your friend's home? I am okay if I know the parents and if a parent is present. If I have no idea who...

One day I would like to preach a sermon for a good thirty minutes. Sadly, I don't have any Bible School training. And I know ever so little about h ermeneutics  or exegesis in comparison to your seminary trained Daddy. Regardless, I'd like to expound a passage of scripture after weeks of study and share what God has placed on my heart for that moment. Today, I can finally allow myself to imagine such an opportunity, as when I was a little girl, I bemoaned my gender because I believed women couldn't preach. My paradigm has shifted now. While I cannot claim to be brilliantly eloquent or profoundly insightful, I still think I have something to offer my listeners if such a privilege was entrusted to me. Maybe one day. One day I would like to write a novel. It isn't a deep passion of mine in comparison with other beloved people in my life. Neither am I gifted in weaving creative tales or spinning fantastic plots. My writing is kind of run-of-the-mill... sort of ordinary...

I searched my archives and found my " Mellow Sunday " post from about six years ago. I laughed out loud (a true LOL) and smiled at how such days are still a reality for me. After an intense week with my children and more responsibilities than usual, I come to this day of rest in a state of exhaustion and discontentment. My motivation is low, as to be expected, and I want to just sleep the day away. Your Daddy is having a nap right now after returning from the Provincial Drama Festival. You kids are observing quiet time while constructing imaginative things with Lego. I am here writing, letting my thoughts run free for a while, as a way to embrace the mellowness of such a day. There are days I wonder if this whole meta-narrative involving a Creator God, a Faithful Son and the Comforting Holy Spirit is one immense delusion. Our pastor just concluded a series on the Book of Revelation. We were reminded to be ready for Christ's second coming. Instead of being hopeful, I w...

There are times you may be asked to do something out of your comfort zone. Like attending a baby shower of a friend from another religion. Yesterday, we found ourselves invited to a family celebration. We were the minority on several levels. We were the Christian family with the white husband, the brown wife and the beige children. I try my best to prepare for such events. I have some experience as the daughter of Indian parents, who are now long term citizens of this land. I have attended Indian gatherings in the past, attired in my salwar kameez . I've dusted off my rusty Hindi/Urdu and attempted a few conversations. I've smiled and nodded and indulged in tandoori chicken and gulab jamuns . Yet, in spite of all the ways I had the appearance of belonging, I was giggling inside. While slightly trembling with fright... I so did not fit in. Last night was no exception. (Though as I've aged, I don't tremble as much anymore.) At the whole family baby shower (...

Well, I finally did it. That is hosting a party where you, my daughter, were allowed to invite guests from school (in addition to church). Wow. What a lot of work. On the whole, I believe it was worth it. Though today, you have a full blown cold, my lower back is a mess and your Daddy is aching all over from trucking up and down stairs with laundry baskets full of party supplies. But, like I said, it was totally worth it and a joy to orchestrate. Don't worry. This post isn't Pinterest-like, where I visually display what a fabulous Mom I am (or at least I'm not trying to). Neither will I be posting a whole load of pictures, as I do not have permission from our guests to post them on the world wide web (which many Facebook users forget). This is more of a reflective post that documents the event, for you, my daughter, and for anyone else who may benefit from our experience. You like movies and crafts. So I decided that we'd gift you a Frozen  themed party, whe...