Saturday, September 08, 2018

Super sixteen



Today Jonathan is sixteen years old. He has changed so much in the past year; he is at least thirty pounds heavier and several inches taller.

Jonathan takes so much pleasure in the simple things of life: seagulls, geese, garbage and recycling, buses, and brooms. He still loves the Wiggles and Barney. He enjoys going to watch Dad play soccer or softball, and he likes going with Dad to watch a Queen's football game or a Frontenacs hockey game.

And he loves to go to the beach. Here he is at Canoe Cove, our favourite beach in PEI.



Happy Birthday, Jonathan! We love you!

Friday, September 07, 2018

Five Minute Friday: RAIN


Today (after a bit of a hiatus) I'm linking up with the Five Minute Friday community, writing for five minutes on a given prompt. 

This week's word: RAIN.



One of the best openings in literature, I think, is the first page of  Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. The first paragraph (spoken from Jane's point of view) goes like this:

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.

In a mere 62 words, Bronte shows us just how gloomy and tedious Jane's situation is:

"no possibility"; "out of the question"
"wandering ... in the leafless shrubbery"
"cold winter wind"
"a rain so penetrating" 

Then further down the page she goes on,

At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon.  Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast. 

Can't you just see the rain, beating down on an angle, relentlessly battering the bushes, while all that can be seen beyond the lawn is gray mist? This is not a refreshing summer shower that cools after a heat wave, or a invigorating spring rainfall that fosters new growth -- it's icy cold winter rain. What could be more depressing? What could more perfectly depict Jane's hopeless situation as the orphaned, unwanted relative of Mrs. Reed and her children?

 The best novelists draw us into the world of the novel so that we can feel, see, and hear just what the characters feel, see, and hear. 

Now that I think about it, another great writer also began one of his most famous works with vivid, atmospheric words about rain:

The sun did not shine. 
 It was too wet to play. 
So we sat in the house 
All that cold, cold, wet day.
 - from The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss

Maybe this fiction writing thing isn't so hard after all. Just look out the window on a rainy day and start writing!


(By the way, if you're interested in reading my version of Jane Eyre, written Cat-in-the-Hat style, just click here.)








Thursday, August 16, 2018

August 2018 Quick Lit: what I've been reading




Today I'm linking up with Modern Mrs. Darcy for Quick Lit, where we share short reviews of what we've been reading. This month I read two recently-released nonfiction books, both of which I'd highly recommend.


I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown.  


In the past year or two I have been trying to read more fiction and nonfiction by people of colour. This memoir, released just three months ago, was excellent. As a child, the author learned that her parents had deliberately named her Austin so that future employers/interviewers might think she was a white man and be more likely to give her a chance. This sense that a black girl was not an advantageous thing to be in America pressed up against Brown's desire to explore, claim, and celebrate her blackness. In the book she chronicles her experiences as a black girl and woman navigating the unconscious biases and even open hostilities of white (and often fellow Christian) friends, colleagues, and strangers.

Brown asserts, "My story is not about condemning white people but about rejecting the assumption ... that white is right: closer to God, holy, chosen, the epitome of being.... I offer this story in hopes that we will embody a community eager to name whiteness, celebrate Blackness, and, in a world still governed by systems of racial oppression, begin to see that there's another way." 


The most powerful part for me was the final chapter, where Brown rejects white people's wish that she and other black Americans would be more positive and hopeful, declaring instead that she dwells "in the shadow of hope." 





Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again by Rachel Held Evans. 


I've read and thoroughly enjoyed  Evans' previous books (Faith Unraveled, A Year of Biblical Womanhood, Searching for Sunday), and this one may be her best yet. In Inspired, she explores the Bible's structure, its different genres, even its apparent contradictions -- showing that the Bible is not just a straightforward instruction manual but is far richer and even more meaningful than we may have realized.


She divides the book into sections with titles like "Origin Stories," "War Stories," and "Church Stories." In each section she talks about particular Bible passages/stories that challenge our assumptions and that reveal something interesting -- and perhaps new -- about God's workings on the world and His relationship with His people. Also, at the start of each section is a short imaginative piece (a brief story about Hagar, a modern-day play about Job, etc.) that sets the stage for our thinking about each of these sets of stories.

I love Evans' engaging, often funny, often self-deprecating style as well as her strong scholarship. Paradoxically, in this book she both demystifies and complicates the Bible for us: she gives background detail that enriches our understanding and knowledge, yet she also assures us that it's OK to ask questions, to not have everything perfectly figured out, to read a passage and feel that it just doesn't make sense or contradicts another passage. As she puts it, "Renowned New Testament scholar N.T. Wright compared Scripture to a five-act play, full of drama and surprise, wherein the people of God are invited into the story to improvise the unfinished, final act. Our ability to faithfully execute our roles in the drama depends on our willingness to enter the narrative ... to see how our own stories intersect with the grander epic of God's redemption of the world. Every page of scripture serves as an invitation -- to wonder, to wrestle, to surrender to the adventure." 

Evans' book shows how she has responded to that invitation and how we can, too. I loved it.







Saturday, August 04, 2018

Twenty years ago today


Twenty years ago today, this beautiful girl was born. 



In this post I'm going to share Allison's birth story. It's a good story -- and I love hearing other women describe the delivery of their babies, so maybe someone out there is interested in reading this. But if that's not your thing, feel free to scroll on by.

My due date was August 16, 1998. We didn't know if our baby was a boy or a girl -- we had deliberately chosen not to find out in advance -- but we had names ready.

I had a good, uneventful pregnancy. I gained a lot of weight (40+ pounds), and Richard teased me a bit about the fact that for a brief window of time, I weighed more than he did: 172 to his 170. I certainly felt huge, and there was a big "bump" pressing against my rib cage on the left side; my doctor said it was probably the baby's bottom or foot.

In late July, my blood pressure was a bit elevated, so the doctor suggested I go to the clinic at the hospital for some blood work, just so they'd have a baseline in case there were any problems closer to my delivery time. 

So on Tuesday morning, August 4 (the Monday had been a holiday or I would have gone then), I went with Richard to have some blood drawn.

Afterward, as we were walking back down the hall toward the lobby, my water broke and fluid gushed all over the floor. Rich ran to get me a wheelchair, got me to the car and home, and I took a shower and changed clothes.

I was having some contractions, but they were fairly mild at that point. Richard and I had some lunch and then decided to play a game of Scrabble.

Partway through our game -- this was probably around 2:30 or 3 in the afternoon -- I said, "I think we should go to the hospital." The contractions were 5-10 minutes apart by that point, and I was having trouble concentrating on Scrabble words. It's true what they say: as labour progresses, you start to have tunnel vision so that the only things you can focus on are what you're feeling and what your body's doing.

We drove to the hospital and went up to the delivery floor. (Interestingly, this is a different hospital from the one I had to go to for the blood work; the two hospitals handle different clinics and procedures, but they are both a five-minute drive from our house.) 

I told the staff at the nursing station that my water had broken hours earlier and contractions were coming closer together. A nurse -- I remember she had a lovely French accent -- helped me on to a bed so she could check me out. The contractions were beginning to be quite strong by then.

The nurse looked me over and said, "Hmm ... I can really see the outline of the baby. You've lost a lot of fluid. We may have to do an amnioinfusion to replace the fluid so the baby's heart rate is stable during delivery."

"O-kay," I said. (Whoa. They never mentioned THAT in prenatal class.)

Suddenly a huge contraction overwhelmed me. "All right, she's got the urge to push," the nurse called out. A doctor and (I think) a resident came over. 

The doctor was African; he said something to me, and I was embarrassed that I had to ask him to repeat what he'd said because I couldn't understand him. "Has your amniotic sac ruptured?" he said again.

"OH YES," I said, "several hours ago."

The resident did an internal exam. "I feel a small part," she said. "Maybe a hand?"

The doctor checked. "That is a foot," he said.

(No wonder there was so much fluid loss: the baby's head wasn't downward, so there was no cork effect to slow down the flow. And that funny bump that had been knocking against my ribs for the last few weeks: that had been the baby's head.)

After the doctor said that, everything was a blur of activity. Another doctor appeared and they all talked about me and around me. The doctor who had arrived last handed me a clipboard with a release to sign. He told us the baby appeared to be in a footling breech position and that delivering vaginally would likely be quite difficult, and they were recommending an immediate c-section. I signed.

I was wheeled into surgery, contractions coming fast and hard, and was given an epidural. The doctor kept pricking my feet and asking me if I could feel anything -- and just like that, I couldn't. I wasn't able to see anything because of the drape they'd put up, but I felt a lot of pushing and pulling. Richard was sitting by my head with a surgical gown and mask on.

At last the doctor said, "It's a girl!"

"It's Allison!" I said.

At 5:41 p.m. on August 4, 1998 -- twelve days early -- our baby was here.

The details still feel so fresh even after twenty years. Allison's birth wasn't anything like I expected it to be: I didn't listen to calming music or pant through contractions or struggle through exhausting hours of labour. It was intense, fast, and a bit frightening, and the six-week recovery from major surgery was not at all what I had been anticipating. 

But Allison arrived, safe and sound and SO cute with her huge blue eyes.

Today we look back on that day with joy because it was the day a beautiful soul entered this world. She has grown into an intelligent, kind, and gifted young woman. We can't wait to see where the coming years will take her.


Happy 20th Birthday, Allison!


Thursday, August 02, 2018

What I've been doing - Summer 2018 edition


It's already August ... summer is half over! So far our summer has been a good one. Today I thought I'd write a post about some of the things I've been doing, in the following categories: Family, Writing, Reading, Watching, and Singing. 


(I'm also linking up this post with Leigh Kramer's "What I'm Into" linkup.)


 
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FAMILY

Jonathan has been enjoying Extend-a-Family day camp since school ended. He goes to this special needs camp every year and loves the staff, his fellow campers, and the activities they do (swimming, going to the Buskers Festival, taking the ferry to Wolfe Island, having talent shows, and more). Here he is with Nick, his best friend from camp.


Allison has been taking an online course in Children's Literature this summer (working toward her Arts degree from Queen's). I envy her her reading list, which included Peter Pan, The Secret Garden, The Golden Compass, and The Princess and the Goblin. She has her final exam tomorrow and then gets a break before starting up more courses again in the fall. The online format has been a good option for her: she now has five credits accumulated, so that's an excellent start. (OH! and on Saturday, she turns twenty!!!)

We attended a family wedding in July: our oldest nephew, Josh Prinsen, got married to Jess Davies at Compass Rose Suites, a B&B in Prince Edward County (about 1-1/2 hours from Kingston). We were very happy to celebrate the marriage of this great couple. Jonathan has a special relationship with his cousin Josh. Here they are taking a little time to connect during the wedding reception; the affection between the two of them is evident.




And below is the happy couple:



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WRITING

This summer, for the first time, I had a poem published in a print journal. I've had a few things published online, which is an honour, but I've never had any poetry accepted in a print publication -- so I was very happy when Relief, a journal I admire, took my poem "Lakeside, with Jonathan." It appeared in their Spring 2018 issue. It was truly thrilling to see my name appear on the Contents page along with poets like Tanya Runyan, whose poetry I admire and whose book, How to Write a Poem, I've used to help me with my own work. 

(I don't want to print the whole poem here because that would undermine the journal's work of publishing it, but if you're interested in seeing it, let me know!)




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READING

In mid-July I posted about the most recent books I'd read; you can click HERE to see what those were. Since then I've also read Austin Channing Brown's book I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness. In this memoir the author chronicles her experiences as a black girl and woman exploring her identity and navigating the unconscious biases -- and even open hostilities -- of white friends, colleagues, and strangers. The most powerful part for me was the final chapter, where she rejects white people's wish that she and other black Americans would be more positive and hopeful, declaring instead that she dwells "in the shadow of hope."

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WATCHING

After seeing a couple of mentions of this series by online friends, I decided to start watching the 2009-11 British TV series Lark Rise to Candleford. It's set in the late 1800's and involves the people in the small rural village of Lark Rise and the nearby town of Candleford. The characters are interesting, quirky, and captivating. And if you watch a lot of British TV you'll see many familiar actors here, such as Brendan Coyle, who played Mr. Bates in Downton Abbey, and Julia Sawalha, who played the feisty, flirty Lydia in the BBC Pride and Prejudice

Richard often watches this along with me; we're currently halfway through season 2 and loving it. It deals with some tough issues (child abuse, debtors' prison, poverty) yet still has a light, romantic undercurrent.


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SINGING

A couple of months ago my neighbour, Bill, asked me to hang onto his new Martin guitar for safekeeping while he was away on a trip. To show him that I was putting it to good use, I recorded a YouTube video of myself singing Dougie MacLean's song "Caledonia," and posted it on Facebook. Anne Archer, a friend from Queen's who plays in the Kingston Ceili Band, saw the video, asked me if I sang any other Celtic-type songs (which I do), and then invited me to be the Ceili Band's special guest at their July gig downton at the RCHA club.

So on July 12 I joined the Ceili Band for the evening and sang four songs:
- "Caledonia" by Dougie MacLean
- "Waterlily" by Karine Polwart
- "The Reach" by Dan Fogelberg
- "John o' Dreams" by Bill Caddick


I hope it doesn't sound extremely vain to say this, but I love being able to share my gift of singing with others. Whenever I hear this verse from the MammaMia soundtrack,

I'm nothing special; in fact, I'm a bit of a bore
If I tell a joke, you've probably heard it before
But I have a talent -- a wonderful thing --
'Cause everyone listens when I start to sing
I'm so grateful and proud:
All I want is to sing it out loud...

I think "Yes, that is exactly how I feel." I don't think I'm the kind of person who unduly seeks attention or notice, but I love being able to share my gift of song. Maybe it's a bit like Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire, with his running:  "When I sing, I feel His pleasure."

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Well, that's just a little bit of what I've been up to in the last month or so. Thanks for taking the time to read it.

I'd love to know what you've been doing as well, so please go ahead and leave a comment.