foto friday: pieces of me

On Canada Day last week our good friends, Jon and Melissa, traded a one-bedroom apartment in Little Portugal above a bar for a two-bedroom apartment in High Park with open lawns.  Mostly because of this.  What I love about the situation is that she can now paint and decorate to her heart's content.  Which she's doing wildly right now due to what I believe to be the "nesting phase".

And if that's calm, easy going, laissez-faire Melissa in the "nesting phase" then we're in for a reorganization of the city of Toronto when I get pregnant.

I love moving.  Not just moving myself (which is grand), but even moving other people.  I'm the person who doesn't have to organize their sock drawer when you ask for help on moving day.  It must be my latent wanderlust.

While the boys lifted heavy objects and made grunting sounds, Melissa and a I began a systematic cleanse of each room as they were emptied.  Dust, sweep, mop, done.  As I swept the floor of their living room I accumulated a few piles of what most people would consider to be junk.  But these piles made me smile.

If you know Melissa, you'd see her represented in that pile the way I did.  I found guitar picks.  I found peacock feathers from her wedding decor.  I found empty tealight moulds.  I found pine needles from their oversized Christmas tree.  I found sequins.  I found beads.

I started to think about all the piles of junk in my life that I've wanted cleaned up.  Old relationships, errors in judgment, disappointments, heated arguments...  In my rush to have God make like it never happened I often don't take time to realize that he's not a fraction as upset as I am.  Even in the piles of junk, he's smiling at the pieces of me that are represented in that mistake, that stall, that entanglement, that frustration.  The pieces of me he made.  The pieces of me he loves.

"so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown"

Let Go, Frou Frou

friday foto: moving day

My Facebook tagline is "Mild-mannered receptionist by day..." which helps describe the half-office, half-ministry life I lead. My 9-to-5 helps me live my 5-to-9 (and weekends) since we all need to pay the automobills. One of my homes is the one I own with Husband, and the other is the one I spend 40 hours a week parked at: the front desk of an advertising agency (yes, yes, like Mad Men, but not in the 50s and with less smoking and drinking...well, less smoking anyway).

Over the two years that I've worked here, I've done everything from decorating it to making it a safe haven, and today I packed it up. We're moving all employees to our second floor suite which means bidding my workplace a fond adieu.

I. Love. Packing. The only thing I love better than packing is UNpacking, which I believe is a throwback to all the moving I did as a child. I have lived in 12 places and attended 8 schools from pre-kindergarten to O.A.C. so, to me, change is thrilling and creative and refreshing. And packing means change.

I recently read this in Mark Driscoll's book "Confessions of a Reformission Rev." and it reminded me of how much and why I love change:

On that day I had only a few appointments, with lengthy breaks in between. I decided to walk down to the deli a few blocks away and get a Reuben sandwich on sourdough bread and some fresh air. On the way back, I walked barefoot and remember thinking that these simple pleasures had made the day one of the most relaxign and satisfying days I ever had. But by the time I walked back to the church, I realized that I was already getting bored. There was no dragon to slay, no hill to charge, no battle to fight, and no foe to conquer.

Next week: pictures of my new reception desk on the third floor!