Of all the liars in the world...

It's in the little things.

The moments of laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

The little neuroses and the teasing about each other's little neuroses.

Freezer cake and a Grey's Anatomy marathon after a really bad day.

Apparently Santa doesn't wear clothing in the off-season. He doesn't sleep in a bed either.

Road trips, and stopping to buy special chocolate milk for a wedding toast.

"squeeky" cheese curds.

Sweet chili chicken, skinny fries, diva salads, and club-med sandwiches at Joey's.

Hanging out for an hour or two before she works a night shift.

Prayers together in a dark car.

Dinner once a week or so, and the occasional girly movie.

Stories about the slightly insane old people on the unit she works on. (I'll never forget the one where she was chased by an old man with a cane, who didn't speak a word of English, and who had previously barricaded the door to his room... or the one about the woman who wandered off so often that they pinned a note to the back of her hospital gown that read "if found, return to unit so and so"... or the one about mashing the sedatives into the filling of the patient's sandwich to get her to sleep...)

Shopping together. Not many can survive a shopping trip with her. She hates shopping, but seems to do it on a regular basis.

Packing for a road trip in a laundry basket, and packing to move houses (again) in exactly the same fashion.

Driving across the city on a whim to hit a particular store or restaurant.

Laughing in the greeting card aisle while on a quest to find the "perfect" sentiments for the people we love.

Teasing and laughing while shopping for lingerie showers for friends.

The everyday stuff of life.

The stuff that isn't intense. Not talking about the dreams or all the harder things, unless I really need to.

I hadn't realized how much sanity those little things brought to my life.

She's on the other side of the globe, working in a tiny hospital, trying to learn an impossibly difficult language, desperately missing the guy she'll marry next summer when she returns from Asia.

I miss her tonight. And I miss all the fun and sanity she brings to my life.

Praying for her, for the things she's asked, and for Jesus to meet with her in the midst of the things she's doing, and the things she's struggling with.

She's on my heart tonight, this best friend of mine. And I miss her.

I'm reading a book entitled "Between the Dreaming and the Coming True" by a man named Robert Benson. I highly recommend it. He speaks of God as the great Dreamer, and life as the space lived between the initial dreaming, and the full realization of that dream.

In it, in a chapter on work and vocation and cathedral building, he wrote the following, which caught me this morning as I settled in at a desk for another day at a job I don't hate, but certainly don't love.

It may well be that the business of America is business, but the business of the Dreamer has always been and always will be something else altogether. And the business of selling our lives by the hour, doing work that we do not want to do or being people that we do not want to be - in the name of piling up treasures that have more to do with what we want or think we ought to have than with what we need, treasures that have more to do with what shines rather than what sustains - is hardly what the Dreamer envisioned. (pg. 91)

The dreams were thick, and disturbing again last night.

The self-conversation as I drove to work this morning, still distracted by the night of dreams went something like, "Snap out of it Lisa, and pay attention to where you're going." At one point I realized that I had absolutely no idea where I was, on a route that I travel twice a day, five days a week. I found myself frantically looking for signs, wondering if I'd actually managed to be so out of it that I'd driven past my exit. (I hadn't.)

Two days of work left for me this week.

I'm not going to think about the headache that's back for the forth day running.

Or about how badly I would rather be getting some sleep than sitting at my desk.

It's all in the doing of the thing. And right now, there's too much to do to be at home. There are deadlines coming, and I'm grateful for the little bit of time off I managed to secure to attend this next wedding.

Two days left.

Tonight...

• I'm missing my best friend, who is currently across the world in East Asia, and will be for the next 6 months
• I'm thinking about how life and conversation in our house has become consumed by the topic of weddings
  
• I'm grateful for freshly laundered, still warm from the dryer pj's to curl up in
• I'm thinking about what needs to be done and packed before my next flight leaves on Wednesday night
• I'm praying for friends scattered across the country and around the globe
• I'm thinking about breath
• I'm close to tears
• I'm thankful for a small, unexpected sum of money that arrived today
• I'm lighting candles
• I'm smelling the scent of rose oil
• I'm feeling oddly uncertain about many things
• I'm also feeling deeply reflective
• I'm hoping that passage that talks about the Spirit praying when we don't have words is true, for my heart just doesn't have words.
  

This one was posed. L. was quite amused by this guy's antics, and asked him if he'd pose for a photo with her. This "lovely" costumed character was waiting just around a corner, sort of "sneaking" up on hapless concert-goers as they came around the corner to enter the building.

In this case, L. was so amused by the costumes that she pulled the "take a photo of me when you're really taking one of them" trick. So, notice L., but mostly, notice the costumed symphony goers in the background.

Can I just say that I always forget just exactly how into a theme some sci-fi geeks can get?

I attended the "Lord of the Rings Symphony" with my brother, roommate and a friend tonight.

There were people - audience members - in costume. To attend a symphony. And not just one or two in costume, but dozens.

We took pictures - the sneaky kind where you stand in front and off to the side of what you're actually trying to photograph. My roommate even asked one particularly elaborately costumed person to pose with her. He obliged, in between skulking around corners to startle people arrived to attend the symphony.

I'll upload the pictures when I get a chance. But for the moment, I'm finding infinite amusement in remembering the rather goofy looking people scattered amidst those dressed up to attend the symphony.

Emily Stauffer's Faith Remembered

And CBC presents "On This Day"... I don't think I'll ever forget sitting in a social studies classroom, with the memorial for Pierre Elliot Trudeau playing quietly as we studied. I won't forget the moment when his son, Justin Trudeau stepped to the microphone to deliver a eulogy to his father, and I'll forget the moment etched in my memory, as he ended his eulogy with a simple and poignant "je'taime papa."

As I was opening the blinds in my bedroom this morning, I glanced out the window and saw the faintest beginnings of the sunrise, and slowly, like a mantra, these words began repeating themselves across my heart.

This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and give thanks in it.

I am not, by nature an easily optimistic or joyful person. And yet, this morning, my heart is seeking to find joy, to speak with my Abba, in the midst of many things. I am being drawn unwittingly into deep places, and am so thankful for a dear friend who has often reminded me that a heart can pray with or without words.

As I drove to work this morning, and watched the sunrise, and then, the spattering of raindrops across my windshield, my heart was drawn deeper and began to pray.

Today (among other things) I am praying for:

• a friend who recently visited our home from New Zealand, and is currently undiagnosed and not responding to treatment, in an induced coma in a New Zealand hospital.
• two precious little girls
• dear friends interconnected, and scattered across four provinces
• some people I love who are grieving
• the family and friends who will gather today in Edson to both mourn and celebrate the life of a young woman who was killed late last week
• other friends scattered across the globe - in Europe and Asia, and other parts abroad
• deep and difficult lessons being learned by a friend who finds herself quite isolated in a foreign part of the world, filling roles that are foreign and less than satisfying
• the healing and restoration of some I love deeply
• two friends recently engaged, and two more enjoying the first days of married life
• restoration of relationships that have borne much strain
• airplane flights scheduled

And so, as I turn my attention to the days' work, I will let my heart continue to pray. I am seeking to rest, to give thanks, to live in a space occupied by peace and joy.

This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and give thanks in it.

Tomorrow is Friday. 8 hours of work to go (and one of those is lunch!).

Then the weekend.

Here's a sampling of what's on my agenda for this weekend:

• tickets to the "Lord of the Rings" symphony with my baby brother, my roommate, and one of T's friends.
• a visit to AMA to pick up maps for an upcoming trip
• the bank, to pay a couple of bills and deposit a couple of cheques
  
• uploading pictures from last weekend
• updating my ipod, which is finally back from being repaired (8.5 weeks seems a bit excessive, no?)
• wedding dress shopping with my recently engaged roommate
• baking cookies
• some girly time painting my toe and finger nails
• I'm going to attempt to finish reading at least one book, and start another
• I'm going to make time to go to my favorite park for a walk and enjoy warm autumn weather (I may also go to the zoo... but it's hard to say)
• I'm going to write a nice long email to my best friend who is currently in Pakistan
• I'm going to take a long bath
• I may make time to sit in a coffee shop, or to visit my favorite tea shop, and do some reading and writing

An early October afternoon smile list:

• mango body scrub from The Body Shop
• girly nights once a week
• the sunrise as I drove to work this morning
• that today is "Name Your Car" Day - (have I mentioned how much I like George??)
• high heels
• mini croissants
• the psalms playing as I work
• that my camera broke with a month left on it's warranty
• plans for a quiet evening
• five reminder stones and a rosary resting on my desk
• passion tea
• bottled water
• knowing that I'm very good at my job (even if it's rarely noticed)
• a short walk in the sunshine at lunch
• a work day that's nearly over
• thoughts stemming from the book I'm currently reading
• knowing that I get to take a break from the fast for a few days and read a novel again in just over a week
• John 16:21-23
• Genesis 15:1
• poetry occasionally spilling from my pen again
• Grey's Anatomy tonight!
• chocolate chip cookies my roommate baked
• plans full of fun for the coming weekend

simple things, but today, I'm mostly resting in them, and letting them bring me joy.

another thought from Henri Nouwen...

The Most Human and Most Divine Gesture

The two disciples whom Jesus joined on the road to Emmaus recognised him in the breaking of the bread. What is a more common, ordinary gesture than breaking bread? It may be the most human of all human gestures: a gesture of hospitality, friendship, care, and the desire to be together. Taking a loaf of bread, blessing it, breaking it, and giving it to those seated around the table signifies unity, community, and peace. When Jesus does this he does the most ordinary as well as the most extraordinary. It is the most human as well as the most divine gesture.

The great mystery is that this daily and most human gesture is the way we recognise the presence of Christ among us. God becomes most present when we are most human.

A few more headlines catching my attention...

Malta Bird Slaughter Condemned

Colonial Clue to the Rise of HIV

It's a new month. A new season.

October is a month that for the last few years has been full of days to be marked and remembered. Moments to be recalled as I move towards the anniversary of my healing from depression.

As I sat on a plane, waiting for take-off early Monday morning, I pulled from my bag a pocket sized copy of Eugene Peterson's The Message New Testament and turned to John. Paging through, I began reading at chapter 16.

I am caught by this translation of the words of Jesus. Caught by the parts of my life and story that they are touching.

And so, I sit here, and sip tea. I eat oranges, and taste salt on my lips, and I pray and wait and ache for that moment when all memory of pain is wiped out. I pray for the expedient coming of joy, for restoration, and birth, and peace.