Fishing...by hand

I secretly plotted to have months in Canada during a warm and sunny season...so really with snow in May and a cool May long I have nothing left to do but laugh at myself.

This weekend I headed into "the bush" where I lost my favourite radio station 540AM...no jeering necessary friends, and came out to beautiful Flin Flon, MB. It's truly breath-taking to behold so many pristine lakes and forests.

Now many lakes are still, quite frozen but alas, the rivers are not. And that is where I went fishing...with my hand!

Yes, the rivers are so packed full of fish(suckers, a necessary evil)that one could walk across the river on them. The surface is lined with their tails. So...you just reach in and grab. Grab hard mind you, 'cuz those suckers can move fast.

I screamed watching others but finally took Eleanor Roosevelt's great advice which I mostly misuse, "Do something that scares you everyday."

Gently I lowered my hand into ice-cold water and harshly grabbed a fish. I felt three years old again, screaming into every lower, evil vocal range possible as I used all my force to hold on. It got away.

A HUGE rush of adrenalin came through me.

So gross and slimy and unbelievably...let me try that again.

Thanks to the great north for the experience.

Plan A or Plan....A

I've thought more than several times that I would gather my ¨great insights¨ of single missionary life in a fun book. I'd want to share the intoxicating joy I feel and would sneak in a few unplugged chapters on challenges too.

Of course, that was before this Sunday when I preached on The Bible and Being Single. It was like a piece of art that I kinda' smiled at and fought with and finally set the paintbrush down on. At the end of the day, I realized that when talking about marriage or not we were in effect discussing plan a or plan...a.

Yeah, both good. Both full of challenges. And really, both best lived seeking Jesus in season and out.

Hmmmm... The book is going to have to wait.

Ol' Boys

¨I'd like to have all boys,¨ I found myself thinking yesterday. That was until I entered the all-boys van and smelt the power of having fun for seven hours at camp.

Inside the grown-up me a large part of the little-me still really enjoys laughing at farting stories, imagining dynamite at her greatest potential and living the open conflict of a punch in the shoulder (the little girl in me, stops there).

At one point in the day I lost two young youth on a mountain climb...no biggie, right? While then I start worrying and then we're getting ready to leave and then... here comes two happy-go-lucky boys covered in dirt running towards our soccer game.

My hands were on my hips and they knew what awaited them, yet my tom-boy heart won yet again. With adventure waiting around the corner, rocks to be scaled and stories to be imagined about the forrest monsters, how could one resist?

Make no mistake, I still dished out a stern warning but as our lively van drove away I keep staring at that mountain wondering what adventures were waiting to be discovered.

Christ is come!

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Muddy Car Adventures

I actually had my car washed...but you can't tell. Probaly in his (Isaac's) entire life time he's never had that much mud on him.

It was six hours of tiny roads filled with potholes through scenery that looks like what I imagine heaven will. Mountain-top views every half hour and then these passages of ivy twenty meters high, drapping down. Breath-taking.

In part, I think I'm made for the village-life. It smells like leña (firewood cackling) and kids run through mud barefoot and everyone's door is open all the time. To measure this truth, I ate five tamales and drank three cups of coffee within a few hours at seven different homes.

Almost all the jokes made at my expense as I tried to make tortillas and knead its' dough, were incomprehensible to me but you only need to understand the twinkle in one's eyes for that. The wonderful young people who took us hiking are just like me...they live in a third culture trying to mix two...and really they're ¨ruined¨ for either one. It was just good.

I'll take a muddy car and be one very tired camper anyday for all that.

Into Your Arms

I'm not crazy about kids.

In my blunt confession I feel like good friends who before believing in Christ started all their comments with, ¨I am an atheist.¨ We all knew it was more for their own benefit than our own. Now, we laugh with them.

So, like I said, I'm not crazy about kids...but they do these things that are so darn cute.

I was detailing what Joseph's life was like as a slave and when I asked for a recap on the story one kid boldly stated, ¨Joseph was a man who cleaned up camel poop.¨

We learned about Moses and then painted the lovely princess caring for him just out of his river basket. One boy gently painted the scene and then a few fish...the fish started fighting...there was soon blood and before I could grab the paint brush the blue sky turned to red and the once gentle scene had been devoured. Okay, maybe more Goth than cute.

At church this Sunday our guest preacher left us all impacted. There was a holy silence. A girl whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear, ¨You're right, he does talk a lot.¨ All the reverence in the room turned to laughter.

But of my favourite things, one of the top ten is kids running into your arms. They boogie down the street and then sail into your arms. And then...snuggle their head into your shoulder.

Priceless. In an instant you forget about admin details and worrisome issues and the to-do list looming over your head. Just priceless.

Choir Girl

Alas, I have made a lot of fun of those who join choirs and perform their art in white robes. Yes, I have ridiculed it as a waste of time and precious air. However, I now find myself whipping through traffic to sing Sunday afternoons.

Go ahead, laugh.

The strangest thing happened to me after falling asleep Sunday. I kept waking up with a joy song going through my head. ¨Joy that sustains wherever you are, comes from the Father in heaven....¨ It was too cool, like being in love and not being able to sleep through the night.

I was actually quite touched. It was like God was singing over me while I slept and then woke me up every now and then to remind me.

So, still not a fan of the white robes and probaly a little less fanatical than others but totally in awe of how much He loves us.