uh... I mean good friends willing to give a helping hand!
We are officially moving on Sunday, June 15. I realise this is father's day and it might not be possible for some, but I'm throwing the invitation out there, anyway.
If you'd like to help, we would love to have you with us. We'll spring for pizza and beer... but only for the folks who end up in Ottawa with us. If you help us load up the truck in Montreal, we'll have to figure out some other kind of compensation. We need:
In Montreal: people to help load up the truck, starting around 11 am. If it's a nice day, possibly earlier to bring everything downstairs before I get there with the truck.
On the Ottawa side, we need people to help unload the truck. If we get enough people, we can do what we did last time, which was to have a line of people up the stairs and just hand boxes up (this, of course, doesn't work for couches and the like!). Last time, we unloaded the truck in about 30 minutes. Pizza and beer to ensue.
If you're up for it, great! Just send an email to me or to Derek. And if you can't help out, that's okay, too. We can recruit you to help us clean, paint, renovate, crawl under our deck... there are endless jobs for our dear friends and family!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Cabane a suc'
In this part of the world, it is impossible not to celebrate spring. The cold begins to lift, the snow melts into rivulets, and the sap in the maples starts to flow!
Our annual tradition is to take my mom out for her birthday to a Sugar Shack. This year, my mom's boyfriend/partner/beloved, Hedley, joined us for the festivities.
Here is our day in pictures:
Our annual tradition is to take my mom out for her birthday to a Sugar Shack. This year, my mom's boyfriend/partner/beloved, Hedley, joined us for the festivities.
Here is our day in pictures:
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Forgiveness 101
"I'm sorry that I did this." These are Maïa's words, and I hear them before I see what she's done.
What in the world is it now, I wonder. I look up, and I see my brand-new round styling brush—the one I've just told her not to touch—rolled up into and dangling from her waist-length hair. I tell her it's okay, I'll fix it.
She's asked for my forgiveness, and I've barely given it a second thought; of course I forgive her. Despite my assurances, she tells me she's sorry, again and again, as I carefully untangle the mess. Maïa has already learned that when we've made a mistake, we're pulled away from the one we've wronged. And the person she's wronged is the very person who can make it right again.
Asking for forgivenss is one of the hardest things for people to do. It means owning up to being mean, or just plain dumb. Saying, "I'm really sorry I hurt you," opens up a space for being rejected or for knowing that our mistakes have been revealed. Yet it is in this revelation, this kind of relational nakedness, that we can begin to heal. More likely than not, the hurt party will both admit they've been hurt and
acknowledge our contrition. Instead of grudges taking hold and growing disproportionately, we can make amends and begin walk together with the other on the road to healing.
Maïa could have chosen not to tell me what she'd done. She could have pulled at the brush, tangling it worse. Then she would have had to rip or cut her hair out of the situation. She might have then tied it into a lopsided pony tail, hoping that I wouldn't notice the brokenness. Instead, she came to me. Not to Grandma or to Daddy, who didn't know she had been warned, but to me.
Every day, I understand a little more the phrase from Isaiah, "and a child will lead them."
What in the world is it now, I wonder. I look up, and I see my brand-new round styling brush—the one I've just told her not to touch—rolled up into and dangling from her waist-length hair. I tell her it's okay, I'll fix it.
She's asked for my forgiveness, and I've barely given it a second thought; of course I forgive her. Despite my assurances, she tells me she's sorry, again and again, as I carefully untangle the mess. Maïa has already learned that when we've made a mistake, we're pulled away from the one we've wronged. And the person she's wronged is the very person who can make it right again.
Asking for forgivenss is one of the hardest things for people to do. It means owning up to being mean, or just plain dumb. Saying, "I'm really sorry I hurt you," opens up a space for being rejected or for knowing that our mistakes have been revealed. Yet it is in this revelation, this kind of relational nakedness, that we can begin to heal. More likely than not, the hurt party will both admit they've been hurt and
acknowledge our contrition. Instead of grudges taking hold and growing disproportionately, we can make amends and begin walk together with the other on the road to healing.
Maïa could have chosen not to tell me what she'd done. She could have pulled at the brush, tangling it worse. Then she would have had to rip or cut her hair out of the situation. She might have then tied it into a lopsided pony tail, hoping that I wouldn't notice the brokenness. Instead, she came to me. Not to Grandma or to Daddy, who didn't know she had been warned, but to me.
Every day, I understand a little more the phrase from Isaiah, "and a child will lead them."
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