Thanks and Giving

My daughter is the coolest prayer I know. She's three and rocks conversation with God harder than her pastor father.

Aswesome.

Here's what I love about how she prays, she only ever thanks God for stuff. Even while she's asking for things she's thanking God. Somehow I've learned that in pryaer you say everything you're thankful for, and then you move on to the point of the prayer. Like how you might compliment someone, or say some nice pleasantry, before asking them to make a pie for the bake sale or watch your kids for the weekend. There's the order of thanks first then request. It's a universal law isn't it?

But my daughter only has one mode: thanks. 

Here's an example of a few of her prayers to illustrate this:

While dropping Sheena off at work, "God, thanks for good day mom will have at work."

Or at dinner tonight, "Dear God, thanks for the food. Thanks that dad will have a good meeting tonight. Thanks for the good time at preschool. Amen."

There's always this jumble of past and present and future thanks.

It's beautiful. I hope it never changes.

I can't help but wonder if this is what Jesus was talking about when he was talking about faith like a child: just thank God for it all. 

Great and Full or Grateful?

We have a problem with gratitude.

Years ago a bunch of us made a goofy little video about what a new and improved man might look like. At the end, one of the summary statements was that he would have "less attitude, more gratitude." 

There have been times for me when that is true, where thankfulness and appreciation and gratitude come naturally. However, that isn't always the case. 

In reading through Deuteronomy, a book about a pivotal time in the history of Israel where they were moving from the desert to enter the promise of God, there are a few statements that stand out to me. Most notable are the almost word for word repetitions of "when you eat and are satisfied." (Deut. 6:11, 8:10, 8:12, 11:15)

Why did they stand out? 

Not because I'm hungry, but because I'm overfed. 

It's hard to know want when you're over satisfied. The people of Israel knew want. The generation listening to Moses were born during a 40 year road trip through harsh wilderness. A wilderness that Moses describes as: "a vast and dreadful desert, that thirsty and waterless land, with its venomous snakes and scorpions." (Deut. 8:15)  

After each use of "when you eat and are satisfied" comes a warning. "Do not forget the Lord."

Why, because at first when you move into a city you did not build, or eat the food from a pantry you did not stock, or drink water from a well you did not dig, you are filled with gratitude and readily thank the provider. However, over time the tendency is to begin thinking that the true provide is not God but the one who maintains the city, the food supply, and the well. 

That is fine if we continually recognize that God is the maintainer. 

Too often we see the efforts we put in and think the maintenance is up to us.  Then it becomes the city we have built, the food we have provided, the well we have dug. And we begin living Bart Simpson's prayer: "Dear God, we paid for all this stuff ourselves. So thanks for nothing." 

"When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. Be careful that you do not forget the Lord your God." (Deut. 8:10-11a)

"When you eat and are satisfied, be careful that you do not forget the Lord, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery." (Deut. 6:11b-12)

Now, this relates to more than food but to spouses, children, homes, vehicles, relationships, and countless other ways the Lord has provided. 

How then does one continually recognize them as gifts lovingly provided and avoid the trap of looking at my kids and thinking yeah, I made that, or my wife and responding I put a ring on that, or my house and lamenting I'm signing away my pay cheques for that, or my car and worrying will I eventually wreck that? 

The Israelites wrote reminders on the door frames of their houses, and strapped them to their bodies, and built altars where they sacrificed. Their worship was all related to remembering that God is the provider. 

For the Israelites, and for us, to remember well meant writing something down, reading something daily, reciting something throughout the day. There was a physicality to remembering. The eyes saw, the ears heard, the tongue twisted, the hands carried, erected and prepared. 

I can't say that I've been through a wilderness like the Israelites. I have had my own experiences of being without, of waiting for the Lord to fulfill his promises, but no land of snakes and scorpions. I am in a place of absolute abundance, all because that is where the Lord has placed me. 

I am usually great.

I am always full. 

I'm not always grateful.

If there are some of you rocking the gratitude share your secrets? What have you done to maintain focus on God as your provider? 

"Listen, O Israel! the Lord is our God, the Lord alone. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today. Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up. Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders. Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates." Deuteronomy 6:4-9

On Peaceful Mornings...

I anticipated many things being different once Sheena and I had children.  I'm sure many things would have been wrong with us had we assumed nothing would change.

For 9 years I had enjoyed much of the same routine in the morning. Even though where I lived changed, who I lived with changed, what job I would be waking up to head off too (even when there was no job to head off to) changed, and yet the routine stayed pretty much the same.

The day began peacefully. In nine years there had been very few exceptions to that. The alarm would go off, then there was the obligatory shower, and that was followed by the donning of apparel. Once proper, breakfast was always consumed on the couch with the news informing me of all the happenings of the previous day. As a mail man, news also included the incredibly important weather forecast, so I could have some idea of what might happen to me on the rout.

The most important ingredient in all of this is some quiet, a chance to gather myself, think about the tasks of the day, and become mentally prepared. This requires peace: not necessarily quiet, but peace.

For some reason, I did not expect this to change much. I mean, I knew that once the child would awake peace would be gone. I just always thought that I could wake up before any child and run through the routine before they awoke. If they sleep to seven, I can be up at six. Easy.

I never anticipated that a child of mine would wake up every morning at 4:30 and lay quietly in wait for the slightest creak of the floor, or some other indication that I was up, and then belt out with all her gusto, "I'm awake!"

Some mornings I can literally hear the peace shatter.

If anything, my daughter is most like me in the morning. Despite wanting some peace before starting the day, I'm pretty ready and eager to go. You could say that I wake up in first gear. I'm ready. I'm engaged. I just need a little fuel and I'm off.

My wife wakes up in neutral. She could just as easily be put into first, as reverse and back the whole thing into bed for a few more hours.

My daughter wakes up, on most mornings, in third gear: she running at a pace that is hard to catch. However, on some mornings she's already in fourth. This usually only happens when company has spent the night: as anyone who has slept in our basement can attest to. Other mornings she'll wake up in first or second: ready to go, but not up to full speed yet. Sunlight to her is a big green flag waving  to start the Formula 1 race that is her day.

What I'm finding, is that on most mornings there is a new peace. It isn't found in weather forecasts, and man on the street reporting. It's found in cuddling on the couch with my daughter, reading a book as she crunches dry cereal form a bowl in her lap. It's found in introducing her to a new cartoon. It's found in trying to navigate down the stairs with a two-and-a-half year old in one arm and a two month old in the other. It's found in being 35 minutes later for work than I would like because I don't want that cuddle to end.

This Christmas our church is pondering the thought that a baby changes everything. This new morning peace is one of the greatest changes a baby has brought into our home. I'm wondering what changes a baby has brought for you.

getting juicy

I'm trying to get some writer juices flowing. I have a book report due tomorrow,* a youth talk to write for Monday, a Christmas letter to write, and my goal has always been to post here once a week.

Yet I have to balance writing to get get thoughts flowing, with making sure I don't write so much as to exhaust my brain. This is very tricky.

so instead of many words, how about a picture, which says a thousand of them right?

I can't believe this was back in June. 

And this is two months ago already. Wow. Surprisingly his head hasn't popped of yet, despite all of Makiah's attempts.

Well back to writing more words. And soon, hopefully, there will be words here about a new van. Schooling, And thoughts on my favourite Bible verses right now.


*Wait, you're thinking, doesn't that sound like school work. Yep, it's school work. I've been taking a class.  The first class, or first step you might say, towards a masters degree. Crazy right?  I would love very much to write more about it, but that will have to wait.

Introducing...

My wife is amazing.

Three weeks ago she was sprawled out on a table in an operating room to be sliced open so that our son could join the outside world.

This was not the outcome my wife had hoped for. It turns out that when you combine our DNA you get kids with big heads. I mean, we make noggins. And it takes medical advancements to bring these melons out into the world.

So my wife was in the OR, some 14 or so hours after going into labor, and many hours after the epidural wore off.*

The only thing, in my wife's opinion, worse than a cesarean, was being completely put under. Being right out meant not seeing the baby right away. It meant missing hearing the first cry, and missing that special moment, even though it is incredibly brief, where they let the mom see the baby before it heads up to the nursery.

She was not about to miss any of that.

Oh, and apparently I wouldn't be allowed in the room if she was right out. And she didn't want me to miss out on anything either.

Even if it meant having some feeling in her abdomen. As in, she felt the knife.

What?

Okay, there's no way I'd put up with that.

So, they couldn't freeze her completely, I get that. She had a lot of pain medication already, and her body was showing signs that the medication wasn't going to work.

So, she grinned and bared through open abdominal surgery so that the two of us wouldn't miss the first moments of our son's life.

I have a long list of proof that my wife is a whole lot tougher than I am, and because of stunts like this it  keeps getting longer.

And so our son emerged on September 17. Unfortunately, despite much pleading with the nurses, I was not allowed to recreate the scene from the Lion King by standing on the hospital roof and holding him out for the world to see.

But now that he's home there's no one to stop me. Oh, except for Sheena, who I'm now a little bit afraid of, because of what she put up with in that operating room.

Makiah's doing a pretty good job showing him off, and maybe that's even better. She tells everyone we meet: "That's my brother."

She's proud and possessive.

And if she doesn't hug him to death she'll do a great job protecting him.


- - -
*how often does that happen?

Camping

I have a feeling that should Makiah decide to be a sports commentator she'd be very good at it. 

She narrates everything. 

EVERYTHING...

"I'm getting dressed.  I'm taking my shirt off.  I'm putting panties on..."

Sometimes it gets really awkward. 

Last night we went camping. 

This morning, at 6:10 she was awake and desperately needing the potty. I took her. 

She wasn't the only one using the facilities at that hour. There was a gentleman in the stall next to us. And Makiah verbalized everything she heard.

"He flushed the toilet. The toilet's noisy. He flushed it again." 

Also, every time she pronounces her name, she does it as if she's about to hit a game winning home run, or score the biggest goal of her career.  

She building on each syllable, she gets louder as she goes. There's anticipation in it. Like you know, or hope, it ends with a winner. 

Until she reaches her last name, elongating it, with emphasis on the ll's. 

makiah Kate MILLLLLLLLER!

We're also camping tonight and tomorrow night. I'm a bit surprised to see my wife, who's 36 weeks pregnant, so eager to be sleeping 6 inches off the ground. 

I'm sure Makiah will be there narrating any mishaps. 

"Mommy's getting up. Mommy's having trouble getting up. Are you having trouble Mommy? Daddy help Mommy."

I NEED it...

My two year old changes catch phrases more frequently than I change underwear.

Three days ago it was "Can't do it"

Two day's ago she was calling everyone "hun"

Now she'd onto "I need _____________. I Need _______________ right now."

And let me share with you some of the things she so desperately, in her own opinion, needs. Here are some of the ways she has filled in those blanks:

- to use the garden hose

- chocolate milk

- a chip

- a nap*

- blanket

- sit in front seat

- fruit snack

- stickers

- dolly

- eww**

Interesting that despite the food requests, none of which are classified as essential foods, nothing she "needs" are essential for life.

While I would love to be able to sit her down and explain the difference between needing and wanting, I realize that so often I need someone to have that very conversation with me. She has been cause to pause and examine how often I stomp my feet and demand things, reasoning they are needs, when I'm just pushing my wants and desires on others.

Perhaps there is a little two-year-old inside me that shows up every now and then.

_ _ _
* I was actually glad to hear her say this one

** Eww is her word for poo. As in I have to go to the bathroom.

Coombs Baby

I love it when Sheena has an ultrasound appointment.

I know they're controversial. I know some people have strong feelings about ultrasounds. I know some people never get them.

They are missing out.

They're so much fun.

I love seeing the images, but they're more than images. They're tiny clues into the personality that is already forming. The kid is playing around in there, and as a dad you are privy to such a tiny amount of what the mom is aware of.

My understanding is that Sheena feels movement almost constantly. While I probably play patty cake with the kid maybe ten minutes a week.

But when it comes ultrasound day I get to see what is going on in there. And it is awesome.

Kinda weird, because the kid looks more like an alien than his father at this point. But it's still amazing.

Here's a bit of what we saw on the last appointment.

So apparently, our kid is going to be a hippie.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

9 Years of Eurovan Love

I cleaned out the inside of my '93 VW Eurovan this weekend.

It was long overdue.

There was dirt, sand, and raisin boxes all over the floor.

But I didn't just clean the floor. I got out the armor-all wipes and wiped down the dash, and any surface that looked the slightest bit dirty. I used over 15 wipes. I cleaned the glove box, taking out every last item and evaluating whether or not the glove box was the best home for it. Then I put back only what belonged.

Then I changed the air freshener.

Now the van looks and smells wonderful.

Well, at least on the inside.

Makiah calls it "the dirty van."

I don't know how that started. I'd love for it to stop.

As I was cleaning out the van, I found the original transfer papers from the purchase.

And that's when I  realized that in a few days I'll be celebrating* nine years of Eurovan ownership.

Nine years...that's incredible.

Well, it's been nine incredible years anyways.

I began to think about all the wonderful memories I have from the past nine years, and the van is featured in most of them. The best example being that I proposed to Sheena in the van. Now I'm really wondering if those memories would be so sweet if it weren't for my good friend Eileen.**

What is more, Sheena and I will probably be saying our last goodbyes to our transportation friend within the next year. Her life is nearing it's end. At least she is becoming too aged to meet all of our transportation needs.

I wish there were some farm, perhaps with sheep, where she could live out the rest of her days frolicking in fields with other Eurovans. Oh how the Eileen loves to go off road. To my knowledge no such farm exists, leaving us uncertain of her future.

I feel that to celebrate the old girl in a manner that is truly fitting, I should share with you some of the stories that play out so vividly in my memory.

Those will come in time.

All I say for now is that I still remember sitting in the Toyota Tercel outside a closed tire shop, my dad in the seat next to me, we had just test driven the van and I had to make a decision: to buy or not to buy.

I had been working for Canada Post for a year and a half. In that time I had saved up enough money, but this would wipe out my savings. Did I want to take the plunge? It was the most incredible vehicle I had ever been in. And I hadn't even driven it yet because I didn't know how.

The Eurovan is a six speed manual, with a hidden reverse. I didn't want to grind the crap out of it and then say: "No thanks. I'll keep looking."

After ten long minutes in that parking lot I had made a decision. We went back to the guy's house. He was very surprised to see us again. I don't think he expected to be selling his van that day. But he did.

We signed a bunch of papers and that was it: I had purchased the Eurovan.

My dad drove it the two hours home while I drove the Tercel.  The Tercel had been my primary form of transportation since the summer of '99. It had taken me far, and had left me stranded far too. The Tercel and I never boned. I had memories but they were nothing special--unless you count the time my friend Brad and I had to push it across Crossfield, Alberta.

During the drive my dad and I chatted back and fort on walkie-talkies.  I remember that we were each eating an apple while driving up the Malahat. When I got down to the core I had to manually roll the passenger window down before throwing it out. This was awkward, uncomfortable, and very dangerous given the speeds we were traveling. I was not going to miss that.

My dad delighted in showing off how one finger rolled down the passenger window of the vehicle he was driving. Oh how I was moving up in the world.

My standard education would begin latter that day. It was a rough first week. I'll tell you more about that next time.



*I say celebrating, but this will be the first time I've ever marked the occasion. The past 8 anniversaries have come and gone without any sort of fan fare.

**Eileen is, of course, the name of the Eurovan. Our relationship had progressed several years before a truly fitting name was found. Perhaps one day I'll tell you how that came to be.

Happy Birthday Makiah

Yesterday was Makiah's second birthday.

We celebrated over the weekend with family and friends and then yesterday Sheena and I took our daughter out and had some fun just the three of us.

The picture to the right is her celebrating with her free birthday sundae at the restaurant of her choosing. It might be hard to tell, but she celebrated with ketchup and chocolate sauce all over her face, shirt, sleeves, and table.

It was a wild party.

She's apparently not one to rush a good thing and when the ice cream all melted away, and her spoon ended up across the room, only one option presented itself for finishing off the party.

I tried to offer help, but she turned that down with an emphatic: "I dood it. I dood it."

I think she was just worried I'd sneak a bite for myself.

She was probably right to be worried.

Happy Birthday Makiah.

Just Like Mommy

There is no denying that Makiah wants to be just like her mom.

Whatever Sheena is doing Makiah wants to be in on.

But now there's something new, and we're not sure if this is imitation, participation, or mockery. Because the list of things that Makiah wants to do just like mommy now includes vomiting.

Sheena's body does not like being pregnant. For Sheena pregnancy is nine months of nausea with a 90% chance of chunks. It's the only time in our marriage when she spends more time in the bathroom than I do.

A few weeks ago Makiah began walking around the house making retching sounds. She would then run to the toilet, shover her face in the bowl, and begin fake hurling. Then she lifts her head and exclaims: "me sick." And retches some more.

It's adorable.

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I'm not so sure Sheena is all that flattered.

Name That Fetus

I'm never sure what to call it. It, seems inappropriate. It is the worst possible thing to call your child.

Yet "it" is the only thing that seems to fit right now. We don't know if it's a him or a her. We're pretty sure it's not a "them." All we are certain of is that it is an it.

That being said, I'd like to come up with something better by which to name our fetus. I suggested "#2" but Sheena vetoed that one fast.

And, by they way, "Feeti" was also shot down.

So, I'm hoping that you will help me come up with a name. Consider this a "Name That Fetus" Contest.

Here is a picture of the little guy/girl if that helps. You  can see the face quite well. It's sure a cutie.

Leave a suggestion in the comments and if we* like the name for our fetus you might win a prize**.

Please leave as many suggestions as you like.

Good luck.



*I say "we," because apparently Sheena gets a say too.

**by prize, I mean that you might win a pat on the back and a hearty congratulations next time I see you. If we ever develop a t-shirt that uses the name in a clever way such as "_______________ on board" with a picture from the ultrasound, we'll send you one. But you should know now that the odds of that happening are slim.

Older Sisters

I was warned a couple years ago that you have to be careful what you say in front of kids.  

Now trust me, I believed it whole heartedly. And that led me to be relatively careful what I say: especially when Makiah is awake. I don't want to take any chances. 

Still, it seems, that from time to time, a word or phrase pops out of her mouth and I'm left wondering where she learned it. 

Take the other night* for example, Sheena was at work so I was putting Makiah to bed. I was about to pray with her, as we do every night, but this night I decided to ask her who she would like to pray for. 

Her response: "Baby." 

I inquired if she meant her dolly. I could see a two year old wanting to pray for her dolly. 

But she said "No, baby! Baby in tummy."

I had a feeling I knew where she was going with this, but I wanted to be sure. "Makiah, do you want to pray for the baby in Mommy's tummy?"

"Yeah. Baby Mommy tummy."

So that night, we began praying for the baby in mommy's tummy too. And now, partly because Makiah is crazy about routines, we pray for the baby every night. 

It will be a lot of fun telling our second child that they were prayed for by their older sister since before they were born. Hopefully this means that Makiah will be an awesome older sister. 

* this was actually three or four weeks ago. 

Squeaky Shoes

Hey Parents!

Do you have trouble finding your child in a crowd?

We've got just the thing for you.

These are real shoes!

Not that long ago, Sheena was in a thrift store and found some cute shoes for our daughter. And they're adorable.

When she was contemplating buying these shoes, she noticed they had a squeaker box in them. She tried to make noise with them but was unsuccessful. This led her to believe they didn't chatter.

So she bought them.

Turns out out daughter is pro at making them sing.

We shouldn't be loosing her in church again.

Tuesday Tree Trimming Tradition

Tuesday Night we trimmed our Christmas tree.

I think.

I have to admit that I'm not one hundred percent certain what this expression means.

Growing up I thought  trimming the tree was what you did to get it into the house because dad came home with one that was too big.

Almost every time I use the word "trim" I'm talking about cutting something away.

As in, I trimmed my daughter's bangs.(1) Or, because it disgusts you so, I trimmed the hair on my big toe.(2)

In a related note, I thought trimming the turkey was what you did to fit it in the roasting pan.

As many of you know, and I recently learned, trimming can be cutting away and decorating: removing or increasing, subtracting or adding.(3)

Trim is like the Christmas version of Aloha -- only instead of hello and goodbye it means two other opposites at the same time.

Many have the Christmas tradition of trimming: either a tree, a turkey, a beard, or something else. Whether understood or not, Christmas is a time of tradition.

As my wife and I prepare to celebrate Christmas with our daughter for the second time, I've been thinking more about the traditions that we're passing on to her. Until this week I didn't think I had a lot of Christmas traditions. Then we started to decorate the tree and it wasn't done in the manner in which I like(4), and I realized that I may have more traditions than I thought.

Here are some other traditions I'm holding to: stockings, Birthday Cake(5), presents under the tree before Christmas Day(6), Christmas Eve service, and I think that's it.

But I wonder if there's an important tradition I'm missing. I know some people read the Christmas story together every year. Others always have Chinese food on Christmas eve, which sounds excellent. And lots of people have traditions I've never heard of.(7)

So, any suggestions of Christmas traditions we should consider incorporating into our celebration?


- - -
1. for her sake I've never actually done this.
2. now doesn't that sound like a rejected Seuss rhyme?
3. Oh how I wonder what is going through a mathematician's head right now as he ponders trimming.
4. Okay, here are the following ingredients necessary to decorate a tree properly: 1. a bowl of nuts and bolts, 2. Egg Nog, 3. A Christmas tree, 4. working mini lights, and 5. Festive Music
5. That's right, because it's my birthday. Now, I'm not too picky on what the cake looks like, it can be Christmas pudding with a candle in it, so long as it's birthday themed.
6. Because the fun in opening presents comes after days, or even weeks, of trying to figure out what they are. Then you get to see how often you were right, and there's score keeping, and the whole day turned into a competition. It is awesome.
7. No joke here, just wanted to achieve the perfect number of footnotes. Mission Accomplished.

Saving Milk for Daddy

Saturday Sheena and Makiah flew to Vancouver Island. Sheena's brother is getting married in a couple days and Sheena wanted to go early and help with last minute prep.

Typically when Sheena goes away for a week I try and keep myself as busy as possible. It is during times like these that I tackle house projects that generally go over better when she isn't around. A typical week of her absence looks like 5 days of me destroying the house and two of me trying to put it all back together.

Last night I began the putting it all back together phase.

I began the reconstruction in the living room.

For some reason I keyed in on Makiah's toys as the place to start.

Here's a fun fact about my daughter. She loves milk.

She loves milk so much that she doesn't want to stop drinking to play. She will do as much as she possibly can with a milk cup in one hand.

Now, if that milk cup has chocolate in it, I believe her hand and the cup become fused together. I'm pretty sure that somehow flesh and plastic become one.

It get's kinda gross.

I'm also pretty sure that this caused her to begin walking when she did. After a few weeks of trying to crawl with a milk cup in one hand she gave that up and when vertical.

Often when she's drinking and playing she'll put her milk cup down for the few things that she needs two hands for. Usually when she does this she puts the cup somewhere safe: as in, somewhere where I won't pick it up and relocate it to the fridge. Somewhere like in her toy box.

I'm never surprised anymore when I ask her to get her milk cup and she pulls it out of the toy box, or the doll house, or from under the TV. That is how she rolls.

And so last night I began putting away her toys in the living room and made a discovery: six day old milk.

Given the browness in the cup I think it was chocolate.

I hope it was chocolate.

I have much more cleaning to do tonight and I'm a little anxious about what I shall discover as I go.

Now I'm quite certain that my daughter is not the only toddler to have done this. Where have you found nasty old milk or other food your kid was saving for later?

Christmas Shopping

Did you know that you can type "What should I get my wife for Christmas?" into a Google search and get a ton of responses?

It's true.

Out of frustration, because I have a horrible Christmas shopping track record, I mound myself turning to Google for help this year.

In years past I've gone the whole rout of trying to listen to Sheena's "hints" about what she wants for Christmas. Then Christmas day would roll around and it would be revealed that I failed miserably at deciphering what she wanted. "What do you mean you don't want four boxes of that tea? Were you hoping for five?"

This year, at first, I took a new approach. I developed an ingenious way of getting the answers I wanted. I formed a question so brilliant, so simple, so perfect that the most amazing Christmas list ever would be developed. I knew that these seven words were going to deliver the best Christmas presents ever: "Sheena, what do you want for Christmas?"

It's brilliant isn't it?

Here's what I got in response:

- A perfect daughter.

At first I thought, Sweet, I'm done.  But then I grew unsettled.

I wasn't as satisfied with the answer to my question as I hoped. Oh sure, there was also some nonsense in there about a sowing machine (way over our spending limit) and something about a pillow.

A pillow?

Here's why Sheena is not going to be getting a pillow from me for Christmas: For the past two years she's be in pursuit of "the perfect pillow." We have a room full of pillows as a result of her vain efforts. I imagine that she could Frankenstein a pillow together of all the parts of the worthless pillows that she has "invested" in. Pillow shopping has become something of a hobby for her--right along with pillow complaining four days later.

I don't believe that my efforts will change things so I'm moving on.

And without her help I turned to the internet.

So you can Google "What should I get my wife for Christmas?" but I'm warning you, the answers there aren't very helpful either. You get the male responses (flowers, bath stuff, spa package) which some women might like, but mostly you get women weighing in on how your wife really needs a new husband: perhaps one who doesn't turn to the internet for help in shopping for her.

So then I made two lists. The first is of all the stuff I know she does not like: bath stuff topped that list pretty easily.

The second list was all the stuff I want. This list proved very helpful. Do you remember that Seinfeld episode where George Costanza made all his decisions by thinking of what he would normally do and then doing the opposite? I basically looked at the list of what I wanted and then bought the opposite.

I'll let you know how that works out.

Banff

Sheena and I spent last weekend in Banff, Alberta.

We were at a conference for pastors.

We had a good time.

Thank You.

- - -

Did you ever write reports like that?

The above is all true, and now I'm working through how to report what happened to the church board who paid for Sheena and I to attend. We had a great time. But that should be a given considering the two major factors in the weekend. 1. It was in Banff* 2. It was all paid for by the church.

In school I probably wrote reports similar to the first three lines of this post. Simple. To the point. Reports.

That may be fine when you're six, but at 31 people expect more.

Also, I expect more.

So here are some of the highlights:

We considered every imaginable way to get to Banff except the train and bus.** So basically we considered driving and flying. We decided we wanted to drive then considered a rental. In the end we took our car. And we're glad we did. It was a wonderful drive. It was supposed to take six and a half hours. I got there in a speedy seven.

We often fantasize about living and pastoring in a small town. Now we've heard stories about having to drive 45 minutes for milk and have a greater appreciation for where we live.

Thank you Tony Roma's buffet, I gained three pounds: three pounds of meat and animal fat. Tasty.

Makiah had a holiday of her own at Chez Bessy. Friends took her in so we could talk about other things than "the potty," "ray-rays" and "eeze."  While we didn't miss Makiah as much as we thought, we still talked about potties and ray-rays. And while she was excited to see us when we got home, when I dropped her off there today because Sheena and I are both working, she got super excited to be back.

The weekend provided us, relative newbies to the NAB, with better insight into what's going in the our conference of churches. We now have some faces to the names, and a better understanding of where things are.

And finally, the sessions were short, to the point, meaningful, and few. All that translates into a lot of free time to hang out with Sheena, poke in shops, and soak in the hot springs. It was great.


* If you've never been to Banff this might not be obvious. Here are some things you should know: it's gorgeous, even without a car you can see great sights, it's a wonderful place to relax, there are several incredible candy shops.

** Seriously, who considers the bus? I mean, when was the last time you heard someone say: "So I'm taking the buss..." and thought wow, I bet they'll enjoy that trip, get there refreshed, and have a lovely journey. No, you're thinking really? the bus? are they that broke? were the flights all full? can I loan them my car? I sure hope they don't get stabbed.

Phone Pics

For being a low quality camera, the camera in our phone captures some pretty great moments. I thought I'd share a few today. 

Here's Makiah learning to shop by following the example of her mother. 

And here she is, last night, at her very first hockey game. While she didn't watch the puck all that much, there was plenty of action for her to check out. Of course during the game all I could think of was something I read earlier in the day from Owl Cit's blog. He recently posted The Top Ten Ridiculously Cool Advantages of Being a Hockey Goaltender. I recommend checking that out.  

And I found this on our holiday in Oregon. I don't know why a picture of Jesus is in the fantasy section. I think this demonstrates the difficulty people have with categorizing Jesus. Or someone is trying to be funny. 

September 30

I'm up early this morning with an incredible pile of things to do.

I have a coffee house with youth tonight to finish preparing for, and a sermon to write.

I probably shouldn't be doing this, but I need to share something with whoever will read it.

Four years ago today, I woke early, drove to Starbucks, drove to a house, met up with a bunch of guys, we put tuxedos on, had some pictures taken, then headed to a church where Sheena and I would become husband and wife.

Sometimes I can't believe all the incredible things Sheena and I have been a part of in the past four years. As great as our wedding day was, we've had greater days.* And I'm pretty certain that even better days are ahead, as we walk together wherever God leads.

Sheena, it's an honour to be married, and best friends, with someone who cares so deeply for me. You deserve much more than simple comments on the internet. Maybe I'll sing a sappy song about you tonight at the coffee house.

Sound good?


*maybe Sheena would disagree with me on that one. But then I'd remind her of the day Makiah was born (and nine months of nausea ended creating the double whammy of awesomeness), and I think she'd have to agree with me.