I’ve been in a bit of a funk mentally and spiritually and emotionally and internally lately and when that happens I just quit writing and reading online until I feel stronger and happier again. But ugh… I always miss writing and I miss you lovelies who read here and are patient with the long facebook posts that I write. And then I’m out picking raspberries and my mind soars with deep and clever things to write. But they never materialize because there are always more raspberries to pick and the beans will soon be ready and there is food to make for the neighbor and there are children running about who always need to eat.
The funk has to do with all manner of things. For starters, I’m actually very tired. When you’re 43 and you’ve lived in BayTree, Alberta all your life and been a preacher’s daughter and then a preacher’s wife and you’ve gone to fall church cleaning on your mom’s hip and you’ve sung Amazing Grace 492 times at the nursing home and been through 18 members’ meetings to decide the superintendent for VBS and 28 yearly reorganization meetings (give or take a few because I taught school in the states for 4 years before Dan and I got married and then we lived in Belize for a couple of years) and you’ve made 3,681 hot dish meals for potluck dinners at church and the floor needs to be repainted again at school and the hostess schedule needs to be updated and you’re on for monthly cleaning again and the church lawn is overgrown with dandelions and it’s your husband’s week to speak, you sometimes just get tired. And it’s not even that you’re the one who has to mow the lawn or paint the floor or preach the sermon. And you know the joy of the Lord is your strength, but sometimes you just want to stop being an adult and responsible and a good example. And you want to sit in a corner somewhere and eat cheesies or look out at the sea from Prince Edward Island and forget that you’re on for hosting the youth this month.
Let me tell you, I love this place and I love BayTree church and I really love the people who live here. Sometimes when I’m vacuuming that humble building that needs new siding and carpet, my heart burns in me for all who’ve come and gone and all who remain and I cry because I love them and I know God is there, even in all the ways we’ve messed up and failed and been inconsistent and lost our way. But I’m still tired.
And I’ve been thinking and studying about Rest for reasons I will tell you more about later, so this tiredness that’s dogging my life seems especially meaningful and perplexing.
But maybe I just need plexus. So we have some plexus products floating around here for various reason. But I’m just awful for never sticking with taking things consistently. And even though I don’t have a lot of faith in the hype, I do scan the testimonials sometimes and when I hear about people with allergies feeling completely whole and depressed and tired ladies having a new lease on life, I think I should maybe try it, though I struggle with my conscience every time I consider truly pursuing it because I know there’s an African lady somewhere in terrible pain who needs a tooth pulled and refugees who just need a drink of water and Haitian moms whose babies are crying for milk. So why should I spend $150 a month to get my gut/brain health in order when really I’m quite healthy and reasonably trim and very well looked after by my husband. I could just keep cutting out sugar and eat more spinach and almonds. And I could take up running and then probably I’d feel better mentally and not have weeks out of each month when I feel so sad and down or mad and despairing. And mostly I could just be so surrendered to Jesus that I’d have abundant joy that would bubble over to everyone around me.
Anyway. I can’t stand that pink drink. I take it for a day or two and then I chicken out again. I have to water it down with about a quart of water for one pack because I don’t like drinks to be very sweet. But then I have a whole quart of the stuff to drink. And I add ice and lemon. But the aftertaste is just awful and it makes my throat feel raw. (Though maybe that’s from all the lemon I add to make it palatable.) I know there are great new flavors out there. But isn’t one of them an artificial watermelon flavor? That makes me feel gaggy just thinking about it. Some of the people in my life who are my dearest and most respected people just love their plexus and sell it and sport it and believe in it. I am happy for them and definitely can’t speak from experience about how it works or doesn’t work. I have friends close by that I can buy it through if I decide that’s the route for me. But that’s my plexus story and I can’t seem to get off of square one with the stuff. I do have a schedule for how to gradually get on the triplex and other important plexus-related matters, so please don’t start messaging me personally about things. Thanks. I love you too. And I am sorry to have added to the hype–OR the dissing of the product. Because I know that most of us are prone to do one or the other on the matter. I just thought you might like to know where I currently stand.
This post seems to be extremely lacking so far in depth and I’m not pleased with how often I have used the word “I”.
So let me tell you of less weighty matters, like Andre asking Siri if Queen Elizabeth has an iphone. Like “Blessed Assurance” being played splendidly on the piano for a pretend wedding. I could show you the pictures I find on my camera, most of them taken by Natalia. The top two here are from an evening that Indian war-something was happening, the nurse on the left binding up wounds. The rest are Natalia’s photography of the weddings and Canadian girl photo shoots and the little bit of camping that happened here.
Here are the boys that my sister Linda and I took down to Idaho Wilderness Boys Camp this month. They are playing Uno with the mini cards I keep in my purse to entertain little guys. This happened while waiting for dinner in Cranbrook. Now they are off surviving in the mountains and I can’t wait to hear their stories.
While in Idaho, our sister Twila took us huckleberry picking and we were all in our happy place. We had time for hashing over life while we picked and then cleaned them.
Also, I got to see a few Idaho friends who stopped by Twila’s place to say hello, so that made the good day even better. No pictures. Sorry, they were lovely friends and very picture-worthy.
Natalia was listening to Adventures in Odyssey the other day and just randomly sketched a character she was looking at on the screen, Ava Parker. She doesn’t draw a lot, so I was super pleased with her skill.
We have someone to carve the roast when Dan is away.
It is ridiculous to be anything but joyful and grateful with such beauty all around me.
Talking about the condition of my heart often helps to relieve the ache there, so I guess I’ll go to bed now and leave this crazy post with its click-bait title and say goodnight to all of you. Writing about a portion of my small problems makes them seem very small indeed.
I get to teach the juniors for the 211th time tomorrow morning and we are going to sing our memory verse, Philippians 4:8, for the church because it’s the juniors’ turn to say the verse up front. And Richard the Swiss butcher is coming to do his annual barbecue for our church because that’s just the kind of generous person he is and the farmers who attend at BayTree are his loyal customers. I made two raspberry cheesecakes and Dan is preaching. Join us!