test

“This is a test of the emergency broadcast system this is only a test. 

                       BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system. Had this been real emergency, the sound you just heard would have been followed by important information regarding your specific emergency. This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system”

You remember that don’t you? I remember those growing up. Especially over summer holiday when my sisters and I watched The Price is Right. We’d be pretending we were Janice or Diane and model random objects around the living room for Bob to talk about. Then a commercial break would come and if we weren’t fast enough we would be assaulted with the alarm beep. 

That test always made me afraid, not because I don’t like tests, but because it brought the fear of “what if?” What kind of emergency would constitute the use of the emergency broadcast system? And if it was a real emergency, are people really watching their televisions? I guess 30 years ago they were. As I grew older I just shrugged my shoulders whenever those came on. Well, we’ve never been in a situation to need to use it so what’s the point? I became numb to the test.

This is all I’ve been able to think about these last 24 hours. “This is a test” It feels like we are being tested at this moment, and failing horribly. Donald Trump has continually shown his true colours and a sizeable chunk of the United States population continues to turn a blind eye. The virus that has infiltrated the minds of our southern neighbours is incredibly contagious. Yes, I am a Canadian living in Canada but we are but a breath away from infection. Yesterday a video recording came forth of him showing his degradation towards woman, his “I take what I want” attitude, his overinflated sense of entitlement. It is sad at best, evil at it’s worst and somewhere in the middle I want to vomit. This isn’t an “all of a sudden” kind of arrangement here folks. This behaviour should surprise no body. Trump embodies everything that is bad and titillating about the internet. He is the internet incarnate and this is why he can’t be ignored even though he should. He speaks unbridled, and people have called that refreshing, he continually lies and instead of calling him out on it his supporters just turn the tables. And yes, his opponent is no better. Seriously, NO BETTER if you are interested in any sort of moral integrity. But since when did we vote on candidates based on moral integrity? 

The reality is that we already failed the test. We have been tested for years and years. On the basis of Trump=internet, we failed years ago. When we continue to ignore the warnings and go for the titillation. When we turn a deaf ear to objectifying and degrading words. When we laugh at a meme that makes light of a woman’s worth with words like “bitches” and “hoes”. This recent “revelation” of Trump’s behaviour and the lewd words read no differently than any random rap/hip hop lyrics. Trump should sell his words to Vince Staples and he’ll turn it into a hit overnight. You can’t laugh at a mom in tears horrified by the lyrics of a rap song then turn around and be horrified at Trumps words and attitude. 

I look at my boys and am so glad they aren’t old enough to hear any of this on the news, but the reality is that Trump is not the only man on this planet that thinks and behaves this way. As we have learned about so much this last year, rape culture is a real thing and it’s roots are power and entitlement. I am so focused on making sure my boys respect not just the opposite sex but all forms of life. We do not take just because we want. That may seem like typical behaviour for a toddler but not for a seven year old, or a 34 year old and certainly not for a 60 year old man running for president.

Shock and awe people, it is not just a Dessert Storm attack stance. It is how we receive our information. We get riled up and angry or hurt or insulted and rant from our keyboards that we are going to do something about it. And in fairness, I know some people that have. They have been so compelled by what they have seen that they have taken up the mantel of injustice fighter and it is thrilling to witness. This is the kind of shock and awe I want to be surrounded by. 

Stop waiting for the emergency broadcast system to tell you what to do. We are in a state of emergency. This is dire. Being Canadian does not make you immune to the ramifications of this outcome of this election. We have been in a global village for decades and for good and bad we can not escape it.

you

you are fat, 

you are ugly, 

you are a sinner, 

you are the Messiah, 

you are a child of God, 

you are having a boy, 

you are dirty, 

you need a bath, 

you must fight, 

you have no idea how much I love you, 

you cannot scream like that, 

you are beautiful, 

you are strong, 

you are stupid, 

you are lazy, 

you are missed, 

you have to apply yourself, 

you can’t give up, 

you are treasured, 

you are a failure, 

you are loved, 

you are full of shit, 

you are such a blessing, 

you make a good cup of coffee, 

you have an amazing voice, 

you are so talented, 

you are such a good preacher, 

you are the best sister in the world, 

you lied to me, 

you hurt me, 

you are the man of my dreams, 

you are going to lose this baby, 

you are a great mom, 

you don’t understand, 

you weren’t there, 

you have to treat people the way you want to be treated, 

you are forgiven, 

you can do this, 

you are worthy, 

you deserve to be healthy, 

you are the light of the world, 

you are my Saviour, 

you are my King.

silence

I can’t believe I’m three days behind on this writing thing well, I guess I can believe it. You’ve never been very good finisher Colleen good starter yes, not good at finishing. It has been harder than I anticipated but I’m not going to give up on it. Today is Iain’s birthday, how is he 4 how does that happen? Just yesterday I was holding him brand new. Where does it all go? I wish I could get some of that time back, I’m always saying to Brad I wish I could go back to at least one day for each of my boys when they were babies so I could snuggle them, kiss them, nurse them again instead of the other night when they pushed me to my limits and I lost it on them. yay mom. Now all I have in my head is noise noise noise. Why do I have such hard time forgiving my parenting mistakes. I’m convinced that they will be ruined forever because of my slip-ups. Ugh, I’m so homesick. I had such a great visit back home in august and I’ve been doing great with everything here but now I am so so homesick and that is more noise in my head. We’ve been here a solid 2 years and I still long for my hometown I wonder if that will ever change. Noah keeps having meltdowns I think he’s overwhelmed with kindergarten but he won’t really admit it. Last night he yelled at his pancakes. Carlon is getting picked on by another kid in his class over the stupidest stuff. First this kid was calling him Barlon and now he is just being bossy to Carlon and it’s really upsetting him. Iain still won’t poop in the toilet. I sometimes wonder if I could ship him off to potty training boarding school but then I know for sure I would never be able to forgive myself for that. noise noise noise.

brew

These words - these prompt words for this write 31 days are killing me. They are not the kind of words I would have expected. It has been hard to come up with something to write that doesn’t sound completely ridiculous. But, the word for this one. It got me thinking. Most people brew coffee or tea, I brew thoughts. Ideas, I hold my dreams close and tight. Few see what is brewing in my head. Not until it’s ready does it come out. I suppose that is another reason why doing this has been challenging. I am spazzing out on the keyboard trying to type out thoughts I’ve gathered for a few minutes before I actually start writing. And, I am not a fast typist. 

What is really brewing inside me these days is anticipation of the Lord. I am waiting on him for something. And I don’t even know what it is. He is brewing something in me, a holy longing, and fervent excitement. Not even sure how to qualify it. But it is overwhelming some days. Maybe it’s just catching up on the time I wasted not talking to Him. I don’t know for sure. What I do know is I don’t get this feeling every day, what I mean is, I have only felt this specific feeling a few other times in my life. He is doing something mighty in me. Pray with me please? If you think of me. Pray for me.

wardrobe

I want a magical wardrobe. When I was a kid I learned the story of the lion the witch and the wardrobe. I loved the idea that you could step through a closet to get to a magical land. I would play in my closet and pretend to be Lucy meeting Mr. Tumnus. It was great, albeit a little cramped. Now I want my closet to be magical again. I wish I could walk into it and enter a place of quiet. I suppose that comes with being a mom to three boys. It gets so loud here. Quiet has become my elusive friend, like Mr. Beaver; you see him for a moment then he takes off, but then pops up and asks you to follow him, then he disappears again. 

In my quiet world there lives the coziest couch filled with pillows and soft blankets, and a little table with tea or coffee and a lovely cookie. My favourite books or even just some sweet soft music to lull me to rest. It is so quiet that my thoughts can be heard. A place where the breeze blows soft and there is a sweet smell of flora. Right now it is fall so the leaves and the wet and the crisp air fill me full. I can smell the snow from the mountains and I bundle up and stoke the fire that has appeared beside me. It is glorious and magical. I look around and see other people in their quiet space and I acknowledge them by not talking to them. It is peaceful. It is a dream.

paint

Six and a half years ago we stepped into the housing market. We were renters of a basement suite as newlyweds often do, but our family was growing and we were running out of space. We purchased a town house. We knew it wouldn’t contain us for long but we needed bigger and our family was happy to help us get our foot in the home equity door. We moved in in the middle of summer and in the middle of not knowing I was pregnant with our second. It was exhausting times. But in the end, Carlon finally had his own room. And he was thrilled and so were we. After 20 months of sharing our bedroom with our son, we had our space back. And he had his. Only his was bland - the whole house was. The walls were a bland painters beige. You know, almost like they just painted primer. We talked about painting and adding our own touches. I got paint samples and searched pinterest and hgtv. But in the end, the only room that got painted was Carlons. A pale green. He was thrilled. I added fun curtains and all was well. 

Now we are in our house. An actual house and it needs paint. Inside and out. But will we ever get to it. I have the same sense here as we did in the town house that we are not here permanently. Not because of out growing it. But because of God’s calling. Is this our metaphor for life? Do we put off the work that needs to be done in anticipation of something better, or different. Or refusing to change?

walk..

The sky was bright, the air was light and clear. The sun was warm and the breeze had the most delicious chill. 

“I must get out there” she thought. The day was beckoning to her. It was as if the day was made just for her. She was born for days like this. “A walk. It is perfect for a walk” she thought. 

Out she bounded and began to ran. She did not want to be running but her body forced it. It ran all the time, it had forgotten how to walk.

“NO!” her feet shouted

“No!” her legs groaned. “We have run too much. We need rest. We need not run all the time!”

She battled, feeling guilty, I should run, I need to run. But you need rest. You need to stop and remember the day. Breathe and take in the glory. The brightness of the sun. It doesn’t happen every day. No, there is always something that needs to be done.

-Bless your race my child, but sometimes you need to rest. Come into my rest.- 

She heard the voice push heavy on her heart and she could not go on. She could barely breathe. The weight of those words stopped her in her tracks.

-Come into my rest. Give me your yoke-

She stopped and looked into the sky. She looked beyond the sky, into the deep vastness that is beyond. And finally a breath flew into her lungs. Not so much breathed in as it was blown in. And  then out. And a tear pushed out and down her cheek.

Sometimes we just need to walk with him.