When I got home from work last night I decided to wash the sheets on my bed.
And, at the end of the evening as I crawled into warm, sweet smelling sheets, I was reflecting on how wonderful the first night in freshly washed sheets always is.
I love the way the sheets are still tucked and taut, and you just get cocooned inside of them.
I want to be warm, but find that I'm not truly warm unless there's lots of weight in the blankets on top of me. I like that feeling of being buried in comfort and warmth.
I'm a fan of bedroom comfort, can you tell?
For me that means pillows. Mounds of them.
A long body pillow against the wall. It provides both insulation from the cold of the outside wall, and comfort options for leaning or sleeping against.
A pillow between my knees (or under my knees when I'm sitting propped up in bed). Mostly just because my back and hips are less sore if I do this.
Three pillows that go behind me when I'm sitting propped up. Two of these get sort of jumbled under my head while I sleep.
Last night pillows and clean sheets were high on the list of things that make me smile.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
News today...
These are the headlines catching my attention this morning:
16 Dead after German School Shooting
10 Die in Alabama Shooting Spree
Tanzania "Witch Naming" Underway
16 Dead after German School Shooting
10 Die in Alabama Shooting Spree
Tanzania "Witch Naming" Underway
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
More or Less Stressful?
I found this article on the current economic state's effects on mental health to be quite interesting.
Is it More Stressful to Get Laid Off or to Stay On?
Is it More Stressful to Get Laid Off or to Stay On?
Perpetual Winter (will spring come?)
Sometimes I feel like the season my heart has been existing in this last while is the season that Lucy found when she stumbled through the wardrobe into Narnia. Always winter, but never Christmas. Just the frozen deadness, without the celebration of new life.
The climate in Calgary and the Lenten season aren't helping with that. March is a teasing sort of month here, where we can easily have snow storms well into May. But in March, the temperature will begin to rise. We'll have a few days above zero, and then we'll be plunged back into the depths of the frozen climate that comes with our somewhat Northern location on the planet. It was -25 below zero this morning when my roommate and I left our house, without the windchill factored in. (I was so not made to live in this climate!) And Lent is a season that moves steadily towards suffering and death. A season that culminates in Easter, but must first traverse the pathway to the cross. A season that the early Christians marked as a way of preparation for baptism, a death of a more symbolic sort I suppose.
And so I find myself existing in a sort of perpetual season of winter, and I alternate between moments of calm acceptance and waiting for the restoration of spring and life, and moments of railing against it. Kicking and screaming as if my own discontent could somehow speed the healing work of God and match it and the changing of the seasons to my own preferred timetable.
I heard someone say the other night that "fasting teaches us that if we don't immediately get what we want, the world won't end." How's that for a challenge in a culture where instant gratification is king? And how much does my instant gratification need for "stuff" also extend to a demand that Jesus work and gratify on my instantaneous timetable as well?
I have watched these last few weeks as it has seemed that spring has begun to arrive in the lives of a few different dear friends. People who I know have walked long paths of winter and suffering. And I'm truly happy for them. But struggling at moments, too, with jealousy of them and anger at God. Wondering when my own spring will arrive.
On the other hand, as I mentioned to my roommate last night, I feel like these last few weeks, though it may not show on the outside of my life yet, I'm beginning to find my footing again. To find myself walking with Jesus, in the midst of the storm.
So maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of spring, far off in the distance. And that is just enough of a tiny hope to rest in.
The climate in Calgary and the Lenten season aren't helping with that. March is a teasing sort of month here, where we can easily have snow storms well into May. But in March, the temperature will begin to rise. We'll have a few days above zero, and then we'll be plunged back into the depths of the frozen climate that comes with our somewhat Northern location on the planet. It was -25 below zero this morning when my roommate and I left our house, without the windchill factored in. (I was so not made to live in this climate!) And Lent is a season that moves steadily towards suffering and death. A season that culminates in Easter, but must first traverse the pathway to the cross. A season that the early Christians marked as a way of preparation for baptism, a death of a more symbolic sort I suppose.
And so I find myself existing in a sort of perpetual season of winter, and I alternate between moments of calm acceptance and waiting for the restoration of spring and life, and moments of railing against it. Kicking and screaming as if my own discontent could somehow speed the healing work of God and match it and the changing of the seasons to my own preferred timetable.
I heard someone say the other night that "fasting teaches us that if we don't immediately get what we want, the world won't end." How's that for a challenge in a culture where instant gratification is king? And how much does my instant gratification need for "stuff" also extend to a demand that Jesus work and gratify on my instantaneous timetable as well?
I have watched these last few weeks as it has seemed that spring has begun to arrive in the lives of a few different dear friends. People who I know have walked long paths of winter and suffering. And I'm truly happy for them. But struggling at moments, too, with jealousy of them and anger at God. Wondering when my own spring will arrive.
On the other hand, as I mentioned to my roommate last night, I feel like these last few weeks, though it may not show on the outside of my life yet, I'm beginning to find my footing again. To find myself walking with Jesus, in the midst of the storm.
So maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of spring, far off in the distance. And that is just enough of a tiny hope to rest in.
Our Unique Call - Henri Nouwen
another thought from Henri...
Our Unique Call
So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyse us and depress us.
Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time.
Our Unique Call
So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyse us and depress us.
Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time.
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