just dandy

I know that dandelions are weeds and they don't smell nice and they ruin lawns and they populate like a virus, but...

it's nice to see yellow after months and months of winter.

I took a towel, a novel, and a pair of sunglasses down to Port Credit park today to tan (post SPF 20), read, and rest. It was, to quote a friend, "bliss".

...and change.

My friends from university, Nik and Thea (alias: "Nick and Al"), are getting hitched this summer. The thought fills me with such joy...I tear up. It could just be a girl thing (it's definitely a Hunter thing) to start crying when the obvious response to such news would be laughter and smiles. They adore each other, I adore them both, so why do I cry?

Ladies, help me out. I doubt it's just me who starts crying when people tell me of engagements (Shay, calling from England, had to wait while I composed myself before continuing with her happy news...), promotions involving geographical relocations, births, etc. A (male) friend of mine admitted that the last time he cried was putting together a slideshow for his sister's wedding from childhood photos.

It makes me think of this quote: "All pleasures contain an element of sadness." (Jonathan Eibeschutz) Now, before I'm lambasted for admitting to thoughts/feelings that are not saturated in joy and bliss, let's all recall the book of Lamentations...or Job...or even Proverbs. Life's benchmarks celebrate new beginnings but, in order for there to be a beginning, mustn't there also be an end? Even if the new outweighs the old in a hundred, thousand ways...aren't we all conscious of loss?

One loves the sunset when one is sad...
- Le Petit Prince

Anne Shirley: Why do people have to grow up and marry, change?
Gilbert Blythe: Oh, you'd change. If someone ever admitted that they were head over heels for you, you'd be swept off your feet in a moment.
Anne Shirley: I would not, and I defy anyone who would try and make me change.
Gilbert Blythe: You do?

inprint

One small step for poetry, one giant step for a poet. I have had a few poems published in Ink Pot Press' summer release, Inprint. The hardest part has been writing/revising the autobiographical blurb that they'll put on the web, and accompany it with a photo that won't make me look like a goon in a few years. Or months.

L'chaim!

4-9 a.m., Saturday, April 22nd

Yes, the rumours are true. www.myspace.com/saubrey

This morning the YWAMi.net team decided to brave as many misfortunes as possible. Up at 4:00 (that's a.m., baby) we dressed and stumbled out into the rain-slicked streets of predawn Brooklyn.

Temperature: 9 degrees.
Subway trip to NBC Studios, Rockefeller Center: 1 1/2 hours.
Cost: 4 US$, return.
Realizing that SNL was not being taped on the day that we showed up early for tickets: priceless.

Instead, we comforted ourselves at a local diner where two eggs and three pieces of bacon cost us $8 each. From there, we braved the elements towards Times Square to take a few shots. On the way home, we (OK, OK, it was entirely my mistake...it was early...I was tired) got off at 45th Street. Problem is: the church we were staying at was at 66th Street. Eleven blocks later, shivering, soaked, and exhausted, we showed up just in time for morning worship and session. It's going to be a looooong day.

Something that I've been enjoying tremendously is the bilingual nature of this conference. Everything has to be translated from English to French to accomodate the 20 or so staff members from YWAM Montréal. It's such a cool reminder of how diverse cities are.

prends mon âme
prends mon cœur
je te donne tout
prends ma vie
me voici
je te donne tout
mon cœur est à toi
tout à toi

Aslan's on the move

I can't encourage everyone enough to get out into different Christian contexts to see what God is birthing. What keeps surprising me is no matter how far I travel, and how vastly different the pockets of Christian gatherings I visit, the Spirit is saying the same thing. Spring is coming. The thaw is here. All creation is longing. Aslan's on the move.

We're a wild, flailing generation, aren't we? We've thrown denominational categories out because we can't be bothered to split theological hairs. We have hope because we've experienced hopelessness. We're ready to put it all on the line because we're more actuely aware of the transient nature of life spent on this globe. If we manage to stay in tune with Father's whispering, manage to respect the parents and grandparents that have tilled the ground before we were born, manage to recognize that to live is Christ and to die is gain, then we just might be the ones that get to experience what has only been dreamed about.

New Yak

Six of us head out from Port Credit tomorrow morning (at 7:00 a.m....egads) for New York, New York. It's been almost two years since I've been to New York, and I have very fond memories associated with the city. Our posse is part of the Youth With A Mission North American Cities Conference (YWAMNACC, I suppose, but who's counting?) which runs from Wednesday night to Saturday night.

After this one, I think I'll take a nice break from conference-land and enjoy real life for a bit. Anyone want me to pick them up something from the Big Apple?

Night Owl

There is a magical hour, it seems (and that hour gets earlier and earlier as I get older...), that the eyes start to sting and the mind starts to wander. Or wonder. My late night curiosities have lead me to the tangled web of myspace user profiles. I managed to get to the "add your dimensions" part of my own, test-myspace profile until realizing that I didn't really care enough to continue. I mean, what site asks you for your DIMENSIONS, for crying out loud? Why would this have any bearing on who might want to be my friend? Oh, she's 5'3"...I think I'll "add" her as a "contact" on my growing list of "e-friends". Poo to that, and poo to myspace.*

*this opinion does not mean to insult past, present or future myspace users. I myself was enticed to the friendly land of myspace by wonderful human beings. I think I'll just stick to blogspot for now. And ever.