Note the Quotation marks...
So our house is for sale. Yahoo! And in a means of self-promotion I wanted to post this catchy little video all about our great house and what is so special about it and why you might want to buy it.
Plus the song mentions a wow-ful woman. Mother is pretty remarkable in here.
If this song doesn't stick in your head all day, you weren't listening. And if it doesn't make you smile, then maybe you weren't around in the 80's. Love.love.love this song.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wow-ful Women Wednesdays
My last two evenings have been spent with some people I adore driving to the armpit of Ontario (or was that the....nevermind) to do some Vocal Artistry. It was likely the most profitable 7 hours I have spent since labour with my last baby.
I learned several things that will stick with me forever:
First: holding your tongue with a J-cloth feels really gross.
Second: I cannot give a massage and sing at the same time.
Third: There are 640 crayons in a 640 pack of crayons.
Fourth: Broccoli soup should never be that thick.
Fifth: I should never be allowed to sit between Kate and Tim ever.
But seriously, the training was excellent. In fact, our instructor was so good that after 7 hours of his techniques being taught, and after hearing him name-drop Rachael Lampa several times, I can now sing like this Wow-ful Woman. She is amazing! And now I am too! Just wait until you hear that my range has increased to match hers. It is simply astounding what I can do now! Who knew that by relaxing my laryngeal tension I could gain 2 octaves and look good in shiny pants like Rachael Lampa!
*snort*
All kidding aside, it was time extremely well-spent and I am more blown away than ever by the brilliance of God to create such an incredible instrument as the human voice. Now in Tim Carson's words, I need to get on to the vocal treadmill and get busy. Time for some serious workouts so I can be a good steward of the mite the Lord has given me. And if you ever get a chance to use his products, or see Tim Carson in person, please do. It will open your eyes to a whole new level of communicating through song.
I learned several things that will stick with me forever:
First: holding your tongue with a J-cloth feels really gross.
Second: I cannot give a massage and sing at the same time.
Third: There are 640 crayons in a 640 pack of crayons.
Fourth: Broccoli soup should never be that thick.
Fifth: I should never be allowed to sit between Kate and Tim ever.
But seriously, the training was excellent. In fact, our instructor was so good that after 7 hours of his techniques being taught, and after hearing him name-drop Rachael Lampa several times, I can now sing like this Wow-ful Woman. She is amazing! And now I am too! Just wait until you hear that my range has increased to match hers. It is simply astounding what I can do now! Who knew that by relaxing my laryngeal tension I could gain 2 octaves and look good in shiny pants like Rachael Lampa!
*snort*
All kidding aside, it was time extremely well-spent and I am more blown away than ever by the brilliance of God to create such an incredible instrument as the human voice. Now in Tim Carson's words, I need to get on to the vocal treadmill and get busy. Time for some serious workouts so I can be a good steward of the mite the Lord has given me. And if you ever get a chance to use his products, or see Tim Carson in person, please do. It will open your eyes to a whole new level of communicating through song.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Bonne Fete, ma soeur!
Today is my sister's birthday.
I was thinking about how much fun we used to have pretending we knew how to speak french. We'd be walking down the mall together and there would be a "don't you want to sign up for a Sears Card?" person approaching us, and Jacq would look at me and said "Et maintenant, nous commencons parler on francais". We figured if we were speaking french, or even kind of french, to each other that they would leave us alone.
We also tried to have "All French Days" at home, where we would try to only speak french all day. The problem with this was that I knew a lot of verbs that she didn't know, and neither of us had a great accent. So trying to understand each other's quirks took some getting used to.
But in the midst of all this, we fell in love with Edith Piaf. Particularly this song. (by the way, I should say that despite taking French into University, I still credit Mme. Piaf and "Michelle, ma Belle" by the Beatles as the bulk of my language studies".
The funny memory I have of this song is when my sister decided that Edith must be anorexic because of a line in the song that Jacq thought said "I have eaten nothing". I still smile thinking of that.
So without further ado, Happy Birthday Sis. Je Ne Regrette Rien.
Non Je Ne Regrette RienNon, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
C`est Paye, Balaye, Oublie, Je Me Fous Du Passe
Avec Mes Souvenirs J`ai Allume Le Feu
Mes Shagrins, Mes Plaisirs,
Je N`ai Plus Besoin D`eux
Balaye Les Amours Avec Leurs Tremolos
Balaye Pour Toujours
Je Reparas A Zero (This is the anorexia line: she thought it said "Je repas a Zero"... as in "I had zero meals". Love that.)
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Car Ma Vie, Car Me Joies
Aujourd`hui Ca Commence Avec Toi
I was thinking about how much fun we used to have pretending we knew how to speak french. We'd be walking down the mall together and there would be a "don't you want to sign up for a Sears Card?" person approaching us, and Jacq would look at me and said "Et maintenant, nous commencons parler on francais". We figured if we were speaking french, or even kind of french, to each other that they would leave us alone.
We also tried to have "All French Days" at home, where we would try to only speak french all day. The problem with this was that I knew a lot of verbs that she didn't know, and neither of us had a great accent. So trying to understand each other's quirks took some getting used to.
But in the midst of all this, we fell in love with Edith Piaf. Particularly this song. (by the way, I should say that despite taking French into University, I still credit Mme. Piaf and "Michelle, ma Belle" by the Beatles as the bulk of my language studies".
The funny memory I have of this song is when my sister decided that Edith must be anorexic because of a line in the song that Jacq thought said "I have eaten nothing". I still smile thinking of that.
So without further ado, Happy Birthday Sis. Je Ne Regrette Rien.
Non Je Ne Regrette RienNon, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
C`est Paye, Balaye, Oublie, Je Me Fous Du Passe
Avec Mes Souvenirs J`ai Allume Le Feu
Mes Shagrins, Mes Plaisirs,
Je N`ai Plus Besoin D`eux
Balaye Les Amours Avec Leurs Tremolos
Balaye Pour Toujours
Je Reparas A Zero (This is the anorexia line: she thought it said "Je repas a Zero"... as in "I had zero meals". Love that.)
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Ni Le Bien Qu`on M`a Fait, Ni Le Mal
Tout Ca M`est Bien Egal
Non, Rien De Rien, Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Car Ma Vie, Car Me Joies
Aujourd`hui Ca Commence Avec Toi
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Remains of the Day
I have a lovely friend. Actually, I have several, but right now I am thinking of one in particular. I don't want to embarrass her by naming her here, but I do want to share something wise she once said (and it wasn't the only wise thing she said. She is rather remarkable that way). And if someone picks up on who she is by my vague and general descriptions, well, so be it.
This friend was giving a bit of her testimony at church when she said the line that has made me think for a long time. She said, "I often worried that when I was done all this that there would be nothing left of me. Maybe this is all I am."
She was referring to her being a hepthathelete and then retiring from competing.(Don't worry: I have lots of friends who have competed in the Olympics...I'm sure no one has any clue of whom I'm speaking.) She wondered if all she was, who she was, was that girl who competed. (I do hope I am not entirely twisting her meaning: it has been almost two years since she spoke to us.)
Funny that: Haven't you had the same wonder? Is this all I am? Who am I in the first place? Am I only a homeschooling mom of 7? And if so, what happens when they all move out? Do I just fade away into nothingness? Do I become that dear old, godly, praying woman that people have thought was "really old" for decades but still hasn't died?
I simply love being home with my kids. It is my first and only choice. Don't get me wrong: I am not wishing for a way out. This is a highly fulfilling position, paid or not!
These questions aren't coming out of discontent, I don't believe. I wonder if there is the ability to be fulfilled in more than one arena. I am wondering about what else there is to me, to us. How else does the Lord intend to use me through my family? Evangelism in our house can simply mean leaving the house, or going to Wal-Mart (heaven forbid) and having someone notice "something different" about us.
Plus the Lord has been gracious to allow me to serve in our church in a musical way. I am thrilled to do that as well.
I just want to know I'm not missing something. I don't want to merely survive these years and then "really serve the Lord" when my husband retires. And I also don't want my kids to think that being a mom is years and years of hard work and drudgery and then sometime when your kids are grown up and fully self-supporting you can get on to real life.
This is real life. I love this life. What I want to know is, when Christ said he wanted to give us live to the full, life abundant, what does that look like? Am I making the most of my days? Am I being a wise steward of my time and abilities?
Fuel for thought anyway, even if it does end with more questions than answers.
This friend was giving a bit of her testimony at church when she said the line that has made me think for a long time. She said, "I often worried that when I was done all this that there would be nothing left of me. Maybe this is all I am."
She was referring to her being a hepthathelete and then retiring from competing.(Don't worry: I have lots of friends who have competed in the Olympics...I'm sure no one has any clue of whom I'm speaking.) She wondered if all she was, who she was, was that girl who competed. (I do hope I am not entirely twisting her meaning: it has been almost two years since she spoke to us.)
Funny that: Haven't you had the same wonder? Is this all I am? Who am I in the first place? Am I only a homeschooling mom of 7? And if so, what happens when they all move out? Do I just fade away into nothingness? Do I become that dear old, godly, praying woman that people have thought was "really old" for decades but still hasn't died?
I simply love being home with my kids. It is my first and only choice. Don't get me wrong: I am not wishing for a way out. This is a highly fulfilling position, paid or not!
These questions aren't coming out of discontent, I don't believe. I wonder if there is the ability to be fulfilled in more than one arena. I am wondering about what else there is to me, to us. How else does the Lord intend to use me through my family? Evangelism in our house can simply mean leaving the house, or going to Wal-Mart (heaven forbid) and having someone notice "something different" about us.
Plus the Lord has been gracious to allow me to serve in our church in a musical way. I am thrilled to do that as well.
I just want to know I'm not missing something. I don't want to merely survive these years and then "really serve the Lord" when my husband retires. And I also don't want my kids to think that being a mom is years and years of hard work and drudgery and then sometime when your kids are grown up and fully self-supporting you can get on to real life.
This is real life. I love this life. What I want to know is, when Christ said he wanted to give us live to the full, life abundant, what does that look like? Am I making the most of my days? Am I being a wise steward of my time and abilities?
Fuel for thought anyway, even if it does end with more questions than answers.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Wow-ful Women Wednesdays
Oh I hate when I haven't blogged for a whole week and I have two Wow-ful videos back to back. Must.post.more.often
Good, so now that I have had my daily dose of blog guilt let me intro the video.
This isn't really the song I would have wanted to post by this spectacular woman. I really wanted to post Good Mother, but haven't yet found a version of it I like. (do you know who sings that title? So exciting!)
However, I'm sure you've felt like this some days. That you want to find someplace where no one knows you. There is definitely a "run-away gene" deeply rooted in me. When I was in University, I was making some fairly lousy life-choices. I was not being who I wanted to be and who I knew I could be/ought to be. So I had this dream that it would just be easier to save up my Tim Horton's tip money and fly out to BC. Why BC? Because I'd never been there, and no one knew me, and I could just try again.
Well, praise the Lord I didn't go (saving Timmy's tip money I still wouldn't have been able to afford a ticket today!), and praise the Lord that no matter where I go, He knows me. And that every morning His mercies are new. And that every fraction of time, He can make me a new creation.
So, while I now know that I don't have to run away from my life, I do still love this song, and this woman's voice, and the thrill of the thought of just going for a great road trip.
Jann Arden--Where No One Knows Me.
Good, so now that I have had my daily dose of blog guilt let me intro the video.
This isn't really the song I would have wanted to post by this spectacular woman. I really wanted to post Good Mother, but haven't yet found a version of it I like. (do you know who sings that title? So exciting!)
However, I'm sure you've felt like this some days. That you want to find someplace where no one knows you. There is definitely a "run-away gene" deeply rooted in me. When I was in University, I was making some fairly lousy life-choices. I was not being who I wanted to be and who I knew I could be/ought to be. So I had this dream that it would just be easier to save up my Tim Horton's tip money and fly out to BC. Why BC? Because I'd never been there, and no one knew me, and I could just try again.
Well, praise the Lord I didn't go (saving Timmy's tip money I still wouldn't have been able to afford a ticket today!), and praise the Lord that no matter where I go, He knows me. And that every morning His mercies are new. And that every fraction of time, He can make me a new creation.
So, while I now know that I don't have to run away from my life, I do still love this song, and this woman's voice, and the thrill of the thought of just going for a great road trip.
Jann Arden--Where No One Knows Me.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Wow-ful Women Wednesdays
I have had the strangest dreams lately. Night after night after night. Dreams that make no sense, dreams about what I'm puzzling over during the day, dreams that would be fun to be true....too many dreams. Still, in light of that theme, and in light of the fact that I felt like a lighthearted something today, I picked The Cranberries for our Wow-ful Women Wednesday.
Now what I found striking about this version is that I think she may actually be flat for the entire first verse and no one cares a lick. They scream like she is perfect, which she sort of is in a weird vocal way. I love that she is flat because when I fall off pitch I always fall flat, never sharp. It is rather endearing, I'm sure.
Without further ado, Dreams.
Now what I found striking about this version is that I think she may actually be flat for the entire first verse and no one cares a lick. They scream like she is perfect, which she sort of is in a weird vocal way. I love that she is flat because when I fall off pitch I always fall flat, never sharp. It is rather endearing, I'm sure.
Without further ado, Dreams.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Waiting for the Bridegroom
Occasionally, my husband travels for work. Consistently, I am a procrastinator. These two truths work conspire against me.
Here is the scenario: Away goes my husband. Down I sit to write up the "to do list" to end all to do lists. My goal? To have so.much.done when he gets home that he will be over the moon impressed with me, and that he will be thrilled and honoured and absolutely able to just rest and relax upon returning home.
The last time he went for three days, my list was as follows:
Tuesday day: clean house, sand window frames
Tuesday night: prime and paint window frames
Wednesday day: paint all 10 interior doors
Wednesday night: paint all baseboard and casings
Thursday day: do all laundry and prep 'Welcome Home meal"
Friday: take kids to dentist, final "tidy up" and cook meal.
Not even kidding.
As the three day "Be the Super Hero" endeavor begins, I instantly realize my plan is flawed because 1) I still need to homeschool my children in there somewhere 2) my children are coming down with a nasty cold and 3) I have some water in my basement that monopolizes all my laundry time what with ringing out and drying towels.
Yet, I begin. The windows get sanded, they get primed. They even get a coat of paint. Then I realize that they look worse than when I started because I'm a lousy painter. School is getting done. We are keeping up with life. But the laundry is piling up, there are no gourmet ingredients in my home, and I'm not sure I've showered yet.
Suddenly it is Thursday night. I am overwhelmed with my longing for the return of my man. He should just be home. We have a super marriage, and when he is gone I just really really miss his companionship. So I lay in bed, exhausted from a long week, missing him and desperate for his return. Only a few more hours.
And yet, at the same time, I find I am sort of wishing he would stay away for one more day. If only I had more time to get ready for his coming. I have so much left to do. My list of things to do to impress him is looming before me. It will never get done in time. He will come home and find me unprepared. Part of me wishes he just would not come back for another day or two so I could try again to be the person I mean to be, with a house done the way I want it. I just need more time. The knot in my stomach grows with the guilt of wasted time over the last 3 days and with the burden of unrealistic expectations that I've set for myself. And then the lies come in that somehow this will be the time that Chris shakes his head at the state of the house and thinks I'm a waste of a mother and wife. Instead of impressing him, I'm sure to disappoint him.
Friday morning, we trundle off to the dentist leaving the house in as good a state as possible with an early morning start. My list is still sitting on the table uncomplete and I breathe a sigh hoping I get home before Chris does so I can maybe get a bit more done. As it is I know that when he comes in the door, instead of taking his coat, pouring him a tea and asking how his week was, I will be apologizing and making excuses for what is left undone.
And then the surprise: at the dentist the door opens and I see only a hand and a cuff on the door knob and I know it is my man. There he is! Surprising us with his return. Instantly the fear and hesitation in my belly goes away. Instantly my heart swells at the presence of my husband. I know that whatever was left undone at home will not matter to him. I know he wants to be with us first and foremost. We are together again and that is all that matters.
Now the tears come. Even as I sit in the waiting room, finishing the paperwork. Ready to leave. The tears come as I get a glimpse of my waiting for Christ. How I long for His return. How I long to be with Him. And yet, if He could just tarry a little longer. I'm not quite ready for Him yet. There is much I want to do before He comes. How I want to impress Him. How I want to "do" for Him. But I procrastinate. I waste my time. I'll start tomorrow. Don't come back yet, Lord. I'm not quite ready.
I know that when He does call me home that I will be so overwhelmed by the joy of being in His presence that all of this striving to please will melt away. However, I am sure that there will be a greater joy if I start today to "rest in Him" rather than to "do for Him". Yes, He calls me to serve and obey, but not according to my list of impressive tasks. I want to be ready for Christ's return, both in Spirit and in action.
Lord I pray that I would be diligent to do the work you are giving me, that I would not wait for tomorrow or be so distracted that I never finish what I start. But I also pray that you would help me to rest in the greatest 'job' you've given me: the dwelling and resting in the Vine so I am always ready and eager for your return. I want to stand before you without shame and regret and excuses. Thank you for your longsuffering mercy. Thank you for the chance to start again.
Here is the scenario: Away goes my husband. Down I sit to write up the "to do list" to end all to do lists. My goal? To have so.much.done when he gets home that he will be over the moon impressed with me, and that he will be thrilled and honoured and absolutely able to just rest and relax upon returning home.
The last time he went for three days, my list was as follows:
Tuesday day: clean house, sand window frames
Tuesday night: prime and paint window frames
Wednesday day: paint all 10 interior doors
Wednesday night: paint all baseboard and casings
Thursday day: do all laundry and prep 'Welcome Home meal"
Friday: take kids to dentist, final "tidy up" and cook meal.
Not even kidding.
As the three day "Be the Super Hero" endeavor begins, I instantly realize my plan is flawed because 1) I still need to homeschool my children in there somewhere 2) my children are coming down with a nasty cold and 3) I have some water in my basement that monopolizes all my laundry time what with ringing out and drying towels.
Yet, I begin. The windows get sanded, they get primed. They even get a coat of paint. Then I realize that they look worse than when I started because I'm a lousy painter. School is getting done. We are keeping up with life. But the laundry is piling up, there are no gourmet ingredients in my home, and I'm not sure I've showered yet.
Suddenly it is Thursday night. I am overwhelmed with my longing for the return of my man. He should just be home. We have a super marriage, and when he is gone I just really really miss his companionship. So I lay in bed, exhausted from a long week, missing him and desperate for his return. Only a few more hours.
And yet, at the same time, I find I am sort of wishing he would stay away for one more day. If only I had more time to get ready for his coming. I have so much left to do. My list of things to do to impress him is looming before me. It will never get done in time. He will come home and find me unprepared. Part of me wishes he just would not come back for another day or two so I could try again to be the person I mean to be, with a house done the way I want it. I just need more time. The knot in my stomach grows with the guilt of wasted time over the last 3 days and with the burden of unrealistic expectations that I've set for myself. And then the lies come in that somehow this will be the time that Chris shakes his head at the state of the house and thinks I'm a waste of a mother and wife. Instead of impressing him, I'm sure to disappoint him.
Friday morning, we trundle off to the dentist leaving the house in as good a state as possible with an early morning start. My list is still sitting on the table uncomplete and I breathe a sigh hoping I get home before Chris does so I can maybe get a bit more done. As it is I know that when he comes in the door, instead of taking his coat, pouring him a tea and asking how his week was, I will be apologizing and making excuses for what is left undone.
And then the surprise: at the dentist the door opens and I see only a hand and a cuff on the door knob and I know it is my man. There he is! Surprising us with his return. Instantly the fear and hesitation in my belly goes away. Instantly my heart swells at the presence of my husband. I know that whatever was left undone at home will not matter to him. I know he wants to be with us first and foremost. We are together again and that is all that matters.
Now the tears come. Even as I sit in the waiting room, finishing the paperwork. Ready to leave. The tears come as I get a glimpse of my waiting for Christ. How I long for His return. How I long to be with Him. And yet, if He could just tarry a little longer. I'm not quite ready for Him yet. There is much I want to do before He comes. How I want to impress Him. How I want to "do" for Him. But I procrastinate. I waste my time. I'll start tomorrow. Don't come back yet, Lord. I'm not quite ready.
I know that when He does call me home that I will be so overwhelmed by the joy of being in His presence that all of this striving to please will melt away. However, I am sure that there will be a greater joy if I start today to "rest in Him" rather than to "do for Him". Yes, He calls me to serve and obey, but not according to my list of impressive tasks. I want to be ready for Christ's return, both in Spirit and in action.
Lord I pray that I would be diligent to do the work you are giving me, that I would not wait for tomorrow or be so distracted that I never finish what I start. But I also pray that you would help me to rest in the greatest 'job' you've given me: the dwelling and resting in the Vine so I am always ready and eager for your return. I want to stand before you without shame and regret and excuses. Thank you for your longsuffering mercy. Thank you for the chance to start again.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Heard At My House
Setting: 5 year old son and his Opa working on fixing the kitchen cupboards.
Son: Hey Opa, do you have one of those stud finders?
Opa: No, but I know your Dad does.
Me: Yes, and you like to play with it don't you, Honey.
Son: Mom, I don't *play* with it. I *use* it.
Me: (mental note: right, boys play with toys...men use them. Got it!)
Son: Hey Opa, do you have one of those stud finders?
Opa: No, but I know your Dad does.
Me: Yes, and you like to play with it don't you, Honey.
Son: Mom, I don't *play* with it. I *use* it.
Me: (mental note: right, boys play with toys...men use them. Got it!)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Wow-ful Women Wednesdays
It isn't every day that I walk in to a store and hear something coming over the speakers that makes me stop my conversation, and interupt the store clerk, to say "Who is THAT!?"
Well, such was my experience this weekend.
Here is who I discovered. And pardon my ignorance if she is well loved by you all. Oh but my stars can this girl sing. I have a dream that one day someone will invent a pedal board for voices like all you electric guitar players have. Except instead of "Overdrive" and whatever else you guys have mine will have "Christy Nockels", "Sara Groves", and "Scottish Accent" as options that I can tap with my foot.
Without further ado, here is Amy MacDonald. What a voice! Not to mention some really catchy tunes. Hope you enjoy her.
And another:
Well, such was my experience this weekend.
Here is who I discovered. And pardon my ignorance if she is well loved by you all. Oh but my stars can this girl sing. I have a dream that one day someone will invent a pedal board for voices like all you electric guitar players have. Except instead of "Overdrive" and whatever else you guys have mine will have "Christy Nockels", "Sara Groves", and "Scottish Accent" as options that I can tap with my foot.
Without further ado, here is Amy MacDonald. What a voice! Not to mention some really catchy tunes. Hope you enjoy her.
And another:
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Heard At My House
9 year old daughter: Okay Mom, just tell us the truth. Are you pregnant?
Me: (having a little trouble breathing suddenly) Um....No. Truthfully, really, not.
9 yo: Well, the baby is 1 now and usually around now you are announcing things.
Me: (feeling a bit lightheaded suddenly) Um....Nope. Really not.
5 Year old son: Really? Because you are a little fat.
excellent.
Me: (having a little trouble breathing suddenly) Um....No. Truthfully, really, not.
9 yo: Well, the baby is 1 now and usually around now you are announcing things.
Me: (feeling a bit lightheaded suddenly) Um....Nope. Really not.
5 Year old son: Really? Because you are a little fat.
excellent.
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