Friday, February 15, 2008

life is beautiful

This morning, I discovered that two of the most amazing human beings and wonderful friends have re-emerged on the Blogspot scene:

Not to mention my very own wonderful fiance,
The charming Mr Andrew
who has faithfully kept me company in blogland for over two years now (since before we were together...it was love at first comment).

I experienced such a flood of affection for both Linda and Jacob when I read their recent posts - a beautiful revelation about Valentine's Day from Linda's and a stunning memoir of his grandmother's funeral on Jacob's. Poking around the archives I could remember all the joys, pains and dramas of when I first welcomed into this family. The joys, pains and dramas now look so small in comparison to the joys, pains and dramas we face today...which will look minuscule in comparison to the joys, pains and dramas that we will face in the future...

I'm so ridiculously blessed to have met such incredible people. I can only hope that though time, geography and circumstance continue to alter our paths that they will still run parallel. At least in blogland.

And I think over again
My small adventures
When with a shore wind I drifted out
In my kayak
And thought I was in danger.

My fears,
Those small ones
That I thought so big,
For all the vital things
I had to get and to reach.

And yet, there is only
One great thing,
The only thing:
To live and to see in huts and on journeys
The great day that dawns,
And the little light that fills the world.
- a Native song, posted on the TTC

but you can't jump the track
we're like cars on a cable

and life's like an hourglass
glued to the table

no one can find the rewind button now
sing it if you understand
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe
oh breathe, just breathe
oh breathe, just breathe
- Anna Nalik, Breathe (2 am)

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

death of a salesman

After date night with Andrew last night I curled into a ball on my bed, fully clothed, and was halfway asleep when my roommate, peering into my room, woke me with a tentative, "Sarah, honey? Are you going to get under the covers?"

Verbal intimacy is the most wonderful, beautiful, fulfilling, glorious, heavenly thing I have experienced. It's also exhausting.

What I realized after last night was that I love and respect Andrew more the smaller he becomes in his own eyes. I know him to be a strong man, a brave man, a leader, a hero and a fighter but it's when he tells me that he's a weak man, a scared man, a follower and a draft-dodger that I know I'm in love with a human.

It takes more courage to admit weakness than it does to boast of strength.

God illuminated the word 'gentleness' for me once. Gentleness, he explained, is strength. What Jesus drew upon to submit to arrest and torture, to stay silent during interrogation, to carry his own cross to the place of execution, to make provisions for his mother, and to forgive us before he died was ultimate strength. Strength to recognize that something else was in control, strength to recognize that he didn't have to defend his case, strength to submit, strength to love until the end, strength to give up.

Strength like that leaves me speechless.

I have never seen Andrew as strong as he was last night.


In death there are hidden invisible keys
(Sleeping at Last)


"But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise;
God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong."

(1 Corinthians 1:27)
I need a hero 
I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night

He's gotta be strong

And he's gotta be fast

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight

(Frou Frou)

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

mo anam cara

Years ago I coined the phrase "epic tales of retrospect" which, to me, meant that we have a habit of retelling life's stories as more tragic, more fantastic, more disastrous, more romantic, more...epic than they ever were in reality.

Like that 50 year plus marriage of the two white-hairs who still can't seem to keep their hands off each other? The way they met in high school, courted, were separated by war, united and dove headlong into marital bliss? Aren't we all hoping that life, love, romance, marriage and family life will be "that" perfect? But...what is "that" perfect?

Do we consider happy couples to have lived movie-like romances or are movie-like romances retold by couples who prefer to focus on the details that were happy?

Isn't it just a matter of perspective?

Don't we find what we seek for?

I can tell you that I've found The One. I can tell you that he's my soul mate. Have we fought, frustrated each other, contemplated running away, shut down, tuned out, rolled eyes, cried and died a thousand little deaths? Absolutely.

Was it love at first sight?

In retrospect, yes.


"Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to."
- J.R.R. Tolkien (in a letter to his son)


"...oftentimes the Loved Ones, though twenty thousand leagues away, recognize at once the responsive note of their destined Lover; and, penetrating the paltry obstacles of distance, Love unites..."
- Edwin A. Abbott,
Flatland (1884)

Why would you think your boy could become
The man who could make you sure he was the one?
The one
My one
My one
- Feist ("The Park")

Monday, January 21, 2008

m-a-r-r-i-e-d

"Before I met my husband, I'd never fallen in love,
though I'd stepped in it a few times."
(Rita Rudner)


Late last night, when Andrew dropped me off at my apartment, he expressed wide-eyed fascination? panic? awe? with the prospect of being married in four months' time.

"I mean, I'm going to be married. Married. Married. M-A-R-R-I-E-D, married. Waking up to the same person every morning, planning a life together, RSPs, married."

Yes, RSPs.

Yesterday marked four months until our wedding date. I keep saying it to myself thinking that it will become more fascinating? scarier? more awe-inspiring? but, for me, it only evokes serene contemplations. Which, for those of you who know me, seems like an oxymoron.

I've been working out my personal fears for a while. I'd say thirteen years. Nik, a loyal friend and sometimes therapist through my university years, used to tease me by saying, "I don't know of anyone who analyzes more than you do and yet gets less than nowhere with it." (or something to that effect...sorry, Nik, for the paraphrase) As I spun my wheels, however, I think God helped me work out some of the kinks.

Like: Why is it always "pastor's wife" and never "pastor's husband"?
Like: If I get married, will I still be able to do the things that I like?
Like: Can I live multiple lives in other dimensions whereby I can be a loving wife/stay-at-home mom with a litter of kiddies AND travel the world meeting new people AND be a Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist and professor?

My year spent in Korea helped with the process. Not only was I getting most of my AWOL tenancies out of my system (whilst God kept subtly pointing out lyrics such as "lights will guide you home" and "the ships have come to carry you home") and my independent, isolated existence was losing its novelty, but I also faced questions about fear head-on in September 2005.

And God's love won.

"He is love. And if He's writing my story, then whom shall I fear?"

And it's interesting to see that Andrew was himself traveling and contemplating in September 2005:
"I’m ok on my own but I don’t want to be ok on my own… it would be nice to have a wife here with me."

To answer Sherri Byer's question posed to me on Facebook this morning:
"Now, the question is, and note the distinction: are you counting down the days till you get married, or are you counting down the single days?"

My answer is both. And I'm celebrating both.

Monday, January 07, 2008

sailing, sailing, over the ocean blue

My step, my swing, my song conveys to all
That out of mind and deep in love am I;
The mooring lines are loose, my port of call
The ceremony when our knot is tied.
But this is not a tether I have known
Of hand or arm, of neck or other part,
The less we strive the tighter we are sewn
Together, lightweight cords from heart to heart.
He's from my hopes, he's made of every dream
And out of all the stories I've been told
A whisper can be heard, "It's as it seems -
The best is yet to be, so let's grow old!" *
One thought pervades as sails unfurl at sea:
The promise of my husband yet to be.

* props hereby given to Robert Browning

Friday, December 21, 2007

baby jesus

It's weird to think of Jesus as a baby.

I mean, really. A baby.

I've had two baby brothers. One was born when I was twelve years old, so I pretty much know the drill. The diapers, the crying, the cooing, the way you want to eat their chubby cheeks up with kisses every time you see them. The way they sleep. The way they grab hold of one of your fingers with their entire fist.

And that was the Son of God. Totally helpless. Entirely dependent. Vulnerable. Simple.

It hit me today when I heard this carol:
Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day walk on water?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.

Mary did you know that your baby boy would give sight to a blind man?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?
And when you kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.

Oh Mary did you know

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the mute will speak, the praises of the lamb.

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding is the great I am.

("Mary, Did You Know?")