Day 17: Letters and Literature and maybe a Lake.

 "What would happen to your mind if you found out that the entire way you understood the universe was wrong?"  Rob Bell - "Where'd You Park Your Spaceship?" 

I started reading a new fiction this week.  I'm not big lover of fiction, but every now and again, something comes across my sightline that catches my attention.  

I have been an admirer of Rob Bell's writing for a long time, but who'd a thunk that he could come out swinging with fiction.  I just started "Where'd You Park Your Spaceship?" Book One and already I am intrigued at the story line that brings in sadness, loss, joy, enthusiasm and wonder all from another part of the galaxy.  I wouldn't label it as a science fiction, it's humanity removed from the confines of the Earth that humans have made in the last few years.  I can't wait to dive deeper.  

Yesterday I got a card and letter in the mail from someone who came in to my life forty years ago.  This past month I attended the funeral of her mother and that was amazing for her.  She is someone I was open with about my departure from the Christian narrative and she was hurt.  She is a pastor's wife and that story is still very precious to her.  But the fact that I showed up for her meant a lot and maybe for her, even moved me back into the camp of being someone who still had access to love.  

Her letter was human and lacking of the typical Christianese that often laces letters of that sort.   I was in tears and moved that she left that out and stayed with me in a shared space of understanding human loss and sadness.  No mention of Jesus needed.  That was beautiful.  

The cover of the card, that I opened up this post with, is of Moraine Lake.  Moraine Lake is in Banff National Park and is a place that is special to me.  I spent a day there with my sister a long time ago.  It is a place of beauty and significance.  It's highly inaccessible without some challenge.  One can't just drive there any time they feel like it.  It's only accessible to the public by shuttle during the summer months.  I hope that keeps the beauty intact.  Maybe it's a bucket list item for my 60th birthday... nine months early.  Which lands at the end of June  next year.  I might be able to swing it.  Maybe my Mom needs a different trip.  So many ideas.  It's over five hours from my Mom's farm to Moraine Lake... that's not a day trip.  

Wow... all that inspiration from a card from a grieving friend.  Maybe she wants to come with us.  Maybe it's not a big deal for my Mom. I have to think of that too.  Mom is more into seeing people than places.  More to think about.  Maybe another friend of mine needs a journey of sorts.  Lots to think about.  But the idea is planted.  Now I just need to water it for the next year.  

Day 16: Broken Gifts from a Broken Giftgiver

I have more memories of gifts from my sister that broke or were in pieces, than gifts that stayed whole.  Even one of the last gift cards I got from her was "broken"... it didn't work and Canadian Tire had to send me another gift card.  The last gift I got from my sister was a jigsaw puzzle.  Those are meant to come in pieces.  

Something about my sister's gift giving spoke to me this morning.  At first, I wondered why I couldn't see the gift giver as broken.   I wondered if she was inadvertently trying to send her little sister a message.  

"I'm not the perfect person you believe me to be. I can break too."  I just didn't see it until most of her life was over.  

I got cross from her from Guatemala that broke twice.  I had tried to fix it once and it still broke.  The bookmark from Hawaii that I have on my desk (attached picture above) was also a gift from Jennifer.  I haven't fixed it yet.  It stays broken... just like my sister.  

That bookmark was precious because of the turtle in the middle of the bookmark.  I love turtles.  Their story means something to me now.  I didn't find the need to bury this one like I buried the Guatemala cross on Good Friday of 2022.  I might tell that story later... I can't find it in the other years yet.  Maybe it is one for the end of the Authentic Lent Journey this year.  

I am sad today.  I got a letter from a mother figure in my life that made me sad even before I opened it up.  I am just expecting sadness from her letters because I have made her sad with my story.  I am in a constant struggle to know how to respond to her every time she sends me notes like... 

"Ruby, I hope and pray that some day we can talk and share once again about the love of God together!" 

I remember my own mother telling me once... "I just wish you could come back to Jesus."  I responded to her -  thanks to Rob Bell's wisdom... "We don't go back, Mom... we only go forward..." 

My other mother wants me to go backwards and that's not even possible anymore.  I don't go back... I can only go forward.  Rob Bell was right.  

"Now maybe you can't do the whole "God" thing.  Okay.  Maybe you're like "No Way"... Maybe for you the word "God" is all wrapped up in what feels to you like a step backwards."  Rob Bell (Everything is Spiritual)  

Rob Bell understands... how do I make my other Mama understand.  How do I show her that some things that are broken don't get fixed?  How do I tell her that some things that die don't come back to life?  How do I keep loving her?  I guess that is the biggest question.  To love her is to support her fantasy.  At least that is how I see it now ... as a fantasy.  She can't support my lack of needing that same fantasy.  This rock only rolls one way.  That is why I am sad today.  Like Sisyphus, It is exhausting to keep pushing this stone up hill.  All it wants to do is roll one way and that is downhill.  I'm tired and I'm sad.  

The longest lasting gift my sister gave me were these words... 

"We'll find something in common."  

Our days of making that a reality are over... but the energy behind those words needs to be transferred to my other relationships.  Can we find things in common without sacrificing each other's passions and beliefs?  I hope so.  What hope is there for humanity if we can't?  

 

Day 15: Road Trips

It's Day 15.  I am one third of the way through the journey of Authentic Lent.  So today I want to talk about road trips.  They have become a significant experience for me in the last few years, both with my husband and my mother. 

My husband and my mother are the two most important people in my life and I get to share with each of them this fun little experience of road trips.  With Manfred, our road trips are business focused.  We are on the road with work, but for me, there is always a joy of seeing new places and going to familiar locations again and again.  One of the highlights of our road trips is an annual drive to my hometown of Fort St. John.  Just being there is magic for me.  I live seven hours away from Fort St. John, so it feels far away and inaccessible to my child's heart.  But work brings us there once a year and just breathing the air is precious.  I was even able to show my husband the farm where I grew up.  That was precious.  

Our road trips have introduced me to Alberta Communities that I hadn't seen before... like Fort McMurray, Grande Cache,  Lac La Biche and Cold Lake.  The picture in this post is during our drive through the Grande Cache area.  We took the scenic route home from Grande Prairie last year.  It was a beautiful drive.  

With my Mom, our road trips have been twice a year since my sister died.  Both "traditions" were established with that loss as a foundation.  In May for Mother's Day weekend, I take Mom on a road trip.  So far we have been to Saskatchewan  and to Northern BC.  Our trip to BC involved heading back to our past.  I had the joy of taking my Mom back to the farm where we both spent ten years of our lives.  This year we plan to head to Southern BC and Southern Alberta.  Those trips include visits to family and friends.  This May, I want to drive with my Mom through the Rockies and take in the mountain scenery with her.  It will be a honour to my sister as she loved the mountains.  

Our annual fall trip is to Outlook, Saskatchewan for LCBI Homecoming.  My sister died in the summer of 2023 and that fall my Mom and I attended LCBI,  our former high school (boarding school) for what would have been my sister's fortieth year from her Grade 12 graduation.  In 2027, I will celebrate my fortieth year from high school and I wanted to go back every year in between to tie the two events together.  Both Mom and spent 3 years of high school at LCBI and Mom did two more years of Bible School.  So every year we are pretty much guaranteed to know someone at Homecoming.  I am excited to see different faces from my past come back for their honoured years.  I am looking forward to gathering with some of the members of my class in 2027. 

There are two very different purposes to my road trips with Manfred and Mom, but they both give me something of joy and excitement at the wonder and adventure involved.  As I get older, I am happy staying at home and I am happy when I get a chance to have an adventure.  I share space with both. 

The road trips are as free as I can be right now.  I am, for the most part, land locked at this time of my life.  I have dreams of flying to far away countries some day, but they are just dreams.  The road trips are my reality and I enjoy what they give me.  I don't feel like I am missing out by staying in Canada for now.  I live in a big beautiful province in a big beautiful country.  There is lots to see here.  I just need a truck and some gasoline and a partner.  I have that in my husband and my mom.  

Day 14: Christianity as Culture

I've been able to enjoy the candles on the Christmas tree at my Mom's for the last two years.  My husband and I have usually left Mom's farm on Christmas Eve before it got dark, so I've missed the candles over the years.  Christmas 2025, the candles didn't get lit at all on Christmas Eve.  Our family is small and when most of the family vanishes before the darkness comes then the candles don't get lit.  That's what happened this past Christmas. 

I did make it back to the farm on December 28 for an overnight visit.  Mom and I got to enjoy the candles on the tree that evening, just the two of us.  I got my iPhone out and found some Christmas music.  It was a tradition belated, but still an enjoyable tradition that I was pleased to take part in.  

I woke up wondering if my ability to share space with the Christian story now is because it is morphing into culture for me.  This is what I found about the word culture on an internet search... 

"Culture is the shared, learned, and dynamic system of beliefs, values, behaviours, norms, and artifacts that characterize a group of people. It acts as a guide for daily life, shaping how individuals perceive the world, express meaning, and interact with others, while also defining a group's identity."

What I admire about Jewish tradition and people is that some can embrace their story as a cultural part of their life without the need to believe in its narrative as historically accurate.  The same goes with the Indigenous communities.  Their stories are more about their group identity than about a factual narrative.   Both groups have embraced their religion as their culture.  I wonder if I am starting to do the same with the Christian story.  

I still enjoy the music.  I can sing along to gospel songs and 80's CCM tunes like I used to, but without embracing the lyrics as significant.  It is the music that brings me joy again.  My body remembers the feeling of joy and I can "rock out" alongside the likes of David Meece, Amy Grant and Petra and not feel like I am compromising my current world view. I am embracing the culture again.  

I am thankful that my Mom is okay with me enjoying the music again.  Maybe it looks different from her perspective, but we are able to still share the music, even though the lyrics reach us differently.  

I still get irritated at some religious expressions, but am finding that not all environments are as uncomfortable as they used to be when I first left.  I've been able to survive funerals a bit better.  I think the idea of culture is even meeting me in those places.  Public mourning is cultural thing in most countries.  I still get pissed with the "altar call" messages at funerals.  I don't think they have a place there, but that is my personal beef.  Maybe that too is part of the culture that I could acclimate to.  

Embracing Christianity as culture will go a long way to keeping me in those circles without damaging relationships.  It will be an inoculation of sorts. I can still be authentic.  I can still be vocal about my agnostic approach to life.  I just don't have to be as triggered or have an allergic reaction when I am around Christian activity.  This is my culture... this is what I was raised with... I can still dwell with it.   

 

Day 13: Waiting for Spring at the speed of 28.9 km/sec.

The hardest part of March is the wait for Spring.  I want to get out and plant my sweet peas.  They are the first seed to go in the ground.  As soon as the ground thaws, I plant my sweet peas.  Last year, I had finally seen my dream wall of sweet peas come to reality.  I remember the wall of sweet peas that my Oma had on the Flatrock farm and I wanted one of my own.  I couldn't pick sweet peas from her garden, so my garden became the redemption and I pick lots of sweet peas over the summer and fall to give to people.  In the fall, I let the remaining sweet peas go to seed and then I collect the seed so I can share seed with others and also have seed to plant in the spring.  I still buy a few packets to plant, but only because there is joy in doing so.  I guess I don't really need to buy more as I have plenty... but when I got for my spring shopping seed spree, I pick up some sweet peas too.  Maybe the variety addition to the garden is beneficial.  But I think its just pure joy to see the blooms on the seed packet and then I get to start dreaming.  

Spring is the only season I wait for.  Summer just comes, Fall and Winter just come.  I don't wait for them.  But I wait for Spring.  I look out over the snow laden ground and wait.  

I think Spring and my flower garden are what keep me excited about my annual trip around the Sun.  After almost fifty eight trips, I need a little motivation to look forward to another 940 million kilometre journey.  That trip could be exhausting if I felt just how fast I was going... 28.9 km/sec.  I'm so glad I don't feel it except for the passage of time on my bones and body.  

What slows me down from that 28.9 km/sec is the patience it requires to watch the snow to melt again.  

 

Day 12: Where are you Spring?

Today is March 1.  March is my favourite month for three reasons and they all are about beginnings and they happen in the last two weeks of the month.  

The Beginning of Spring... although from the picture of my garden, it doesn't look like spring is around the corner any time soon.  

The Beginning of Me ... my birthday is in March.  

The Official Beginning of my life with my husband... our anniversary is the day before my birthday.  

I went shopping yesterday for flower seeds.   My excitement at the prospect of being able to plant them came one to two months before I can actually get them in the ground.  So now I am wavering between being elated by the possibilities and depressed at reality.  I am more excited that usual to get in my garden and start the flower growing process again.  I have a new neighbour who likes flowers too.  I figure it will be a great opportunity to connect with her in nature.  

Yep... sad, depressed and mopey... time to get back to puzzling for another six weeks.  

 

Day 11: "Courage is a love affair with the unknown"

 "...to choose fear as a companion during hard times is akin to wearing a weighted vest instead of a life jacket when you're learning to swim.  The goal is to learn to coexist with our fear.  To see it clearly for what it is and understand where it comes from.  To think of fear a worried relative -- the nervous, hand-wringing cousin who's quick to anticipate disaster.  If that prophet of doom has to be along for the ride, I'm choosing to carry it around as a passenger but I will never let it get behind the wheel."  (Gillian Deacon "A Love Affair with the Unknown") 

I am reading a book, although a slow process, called" A Love Affair with the Unknown"  by Gillian Deacon.  It's one of those books that has come along beside me on my journey... not to convince me of changing direction, but to encourage me that I am already on the right path.  

Embracing the unknown like a welcome companion is where I am heading.  Certainty, for me, has been an abusive partner.  I finally had enough.  There are still unsettled waters on this journey, but I am far less concerned with the outcome.  

I am not good at making new friends.  Acquaintances, sure... but friends... that is challenging for me. I am far too comfortable with people who have been my life for decades.  They either know a lot about me and still love me, or they found out things about me and are not as excited as I am to reinforce the relationship.  I am comfortable with both.  I expect that some will stay and some will be more distant.  I try to balance the flow of information for those who are staying so they don't get too spooked.  For the most part, people who have invested decades in a friendship aren't that easily knocked off their horse.  

Making a new friend, that comes with a load of challenges.  What do I reveal about myself in the first few meetings?  How often to do we need to meet up to establish a friendship?  What are my obligations, if any, to be on my best behaviour.  When will I be able to be really real?  How long do I have to wait to call them a friend? What if they move in next door?  

When there is space between people, there is less expectations of a lot of time requirement.  However... what happens when you can just walk across the street to their house?  

The picture in today's post is of a beautiful crabapple tree that bloomed in our neighbour's yard for as long as I lived at my house.  We enjoyed it's blooms every spring as we could see it from our kitchen window.  Last year that tree was cut down as the house and yard underwent a massive renovation.  This month, there is a new homeowner.  

I've had the chance to visit her and enjoyed my initial meetings.  But that passenger, that cousin that rides in my car is distracting my driving.  Fear is creeping in and I'm not sure how to address it.  I have lost friends.  How do I not remember that feeling?  

I have spent the last year writing to strangers and far away penpals.  They seem safe.  They aren't close enough to require more of me that one or two letters a month.  But I can't hug them.  I like hugs.  I gave one to my new neighbour yesterday.