Decompression or Debrief?

I started to write a post, and then the timer went off for Sherry's pumpkin loaf. I ran upstairs, tested it, and it was finished. Just then my phone rang and it was a member of Dragonfly Cohousing. She was calling, she said, really just to chat and catch up. How were Sherry and I doing? We took a leave of absence back at the end of October because home reno deadlines were imminently looming. I would need November and December off for sure. Ha! Finish by December, such a comedian I was. In January and February, the renos continued and Sherry shared that she was pregnant, which was actually why she too had taken a leave of absence in November and December when her energy levels were endangered species. What about now? Well that subject didn't get jumped into right away. Instead, I chatted about how I'd worked 90 hours in the last two weeks, and had the inspection today even though I wasn't ready at all. The inspector was gracious though. He could tell I was ambitious and not the kind to leave my house only half covered in foam. So he credited me for a number of things that were not technically complete yet. He did still have to perform the blower door test and you can't doctor those. The results were not brilliant. I suspected that would be the case, but it was still disappointing. It was a frantic day though. The first project I set out to do was weatherstrip the attic accesses. Oh but what is this? This one is built backwards. I can't weatherstrip it at all. It may be useful to note that when we got the house you couldn't even access it, because they had built the closet shelving right into the attic access. So a simple, 15 minute job, became, a rip everything out, go build a new one, six hour plus job (someone might skeptically ask if it actually takes six hours to build an attic access, and my defensive answer is yes, in fact this one takes longer). And the inspector showed up an hour early, so was it finished? No. Oh well, let's acousti-seal and tack some poly for the blower door test. The inspector also required invoices for everything. Did I have those all prepared? Absolutely not. Am I very organized with my filing, making it easy to locate such things? Quite the opposite. So a tornado attacked my desk repeatedly and didn't succeed very well, at least at finding things for me, it did do a good job of making my desk look tornadoed. Sherry hates tornadoes. It's why she dreams that they're evil spirits and she has to pray in tongues to stop them. She did encourage me this morning to bask in God's presence, even in the attic.
Anyway, did I unload all of these details on my poor Cohousing friend? No. I did admit that I'm nervous about starting my last (and most challenging) segment of school on Monday, whilst still having so much incomplete in my renos. But hey, what's wrong with coming home for supper and then marching outside to work in the dark? I've become accustomed to it. I've also become accustomed to being re-ignited with courage working in daylight, There is no such thing as daylight while going to school.
My cohousing friend asked about Sherry and how she was doing, which I relayed. She asked how my Dad was doing, and me too, post-Mom. And yes eventually she asked what our position was regarding the Cohousing group. We have talked a little bit, here and there, and realistically, we're not financially viable. Cohousing can sometimes get financed by a developer (which still involves preliminary costs), but more often gets financed by the members. How? Savings, investments, or for us, since we don't have any of those responsible things, home-secured lines of credit. We don't even have one of those yet. We do have an unsecured line of credit and have racked it up good with my quest. With my quest taking much longer than anticipated, and being more difficult than expected, it will be a few months before it is vanquished. Even then, we'll have to get our house reassessed to see about getting a secured line. Really though, these renos don't immediately jack up our value beyond their cost. I also laid waste to our yard, and though we have good imaginations for how to make it beautiful, I prespent all of our money. There is also the undeniable fact that, we both love this home. We love how well laid out it is, and how bright it is, and its proximity to the park, and our friendly neighbours, and the crazy quest I have undertaken will some day be finished and then it will be super efficient and gorgeous too.
Anyway, I asked her how she was doing and got to hear about it. She brought up that even if we leave, we would still be more than welcome to come to social events, and I thought, yeah, that would be fun, because there are a lot of cool people in the group and it is weird to think about just severing relationships that have been built up. We could go visit them after it's built (they are rolling right along) and be a little bit jealous.
She also asked if we needed any help. She said obviously she isn't construction proficient, but do we need anything else? I could actually say no. I have felt very supported by my housemates these past couple of months. Whether it's Jason distracting me with board games or a field trip to the gym, or when he's ripping up half my roof to make sure it's actually done right this time. Daniel has pitched in to give me a hand hauling foam bundles, cleaning up, and other odd jobs. He's also nurtured my plants during my neglect. Megan has gone and slept in the basement while working nightshifts because I'm making a racket right outside her room, and kept telling me it was fine. Faye gets home from a very long shift at work, and then a long commute, and still listens to me talk about my day. Sherry, even though her back has been spasming and giving her all kinds of grief for weeks, has been strategically treating me. I'll randomly wish out loud for rhubarb cobbler, or pumpkin bread, or steak, and they'll appear. In fact, every one of them has been very generous in sharing their cooking with me, and encouraging and supporting me. I feel compelled to go write them thank you cards.
And now I feel like a celebrity at an awards show having the sudden urge to thank everyone I can, like my Dad and my friends who came over to help. This will get ridiculous quick. I'll also be like musicians in CD liners, because I want to say, "Thanks God." Thanks for someone calling to ask me how I was doing, when I needed to contemplate how I was doing. I needed to decompress, by debriefing. Thanks for giving me loving family and friends. Thanks for a gracious inspector. Thanks for pumpkin bread and Thai soup and salad tonight. Thanks for working much harder than I do, with much greater skill, knowledge, wisdom, and moral decency. May you be successful in your endeavours in all the countries around the Mediterranean. I'm not there traveling this year, but there's certainly a lot going on that could use your help.

"God's Grace Is Sufficient For You"

My break yesterday was not enough to save my garage. Although several times it got so bad as to include tears. When I had just two weeks left before my inspection deadline, I did some timeline estimating and knew I had until Wednesday to have my doors finished and the chimney chase installed. Instead I found myself cleaning stain off all day and couldn't even finish that, and no the chimney chase is not built. The doors easily took more than twice what they were supposed to, in a period of time that also included an auto accident one block away from the door hardware store (I slid 40 feet going 10 km/hr on a road doubling as a skating rink into a mini-van). And in the end, I still couldn't get them to look good. And so I scrubbed two weeks of work, rags, brushes, stain, money, and heart and couldn't even finish that. It was over; I would have to install them as is, to stare at me and taunt my disgrace with their ugliness, and tease me about how I'd have to spend a pile more money to have someone do it properly in the summer. Sherry called me to see how I was doing and I could barely talk. So I packed it in, my fingers aching and my morale shattered. I came in and showered and came to bed. Sherry remarked that I had a frustrating day, and I still couldn't talk. She said she had a frustrating day too. We could be frustrated together. But she didn't look frustrated. She looked very powerfully willing me to strongly know how much she loved me. She kissed me to underscore this, and said, "God's grace is sufficient for you." I tried to ask what happened to her. She told me about how her back was miserable. But still she looked at me with love. So I went to sleep crying, but it was very different from the crying in the garage.

Today had its share of setbacks. The hardware was wrong on one of the doors, so I had to drive to the NE to replace them, but at least they had the replacements in stock. I realized that the doors needed to have gains chiseled into them for the hardware, and I hadn't allowed time for this, and didn't even have a set of chisels. After I got the chisels, and started working on the doors, I realized the finish of the hinges didn't match the nicer finish of the hardware, and it looked stupid. The hardware came with better parts than some of the default stuff the door came with (and would thus match the hardware), but it wouldn't work because of how the jamb had been cut into for the default parts. While chiseling the gains, the fiberglass chipped away in an ugly fashion.

And none of this really phased me.

God's grace is sufficient for me.

I haven't spent a lot of time mulling over what that means, but I can feel it.

We had friends bring us over dinner and share it with us - yes, really - and one of our friends was telling us about a dream she'd had where their family had a blog recounting how they wasted time. Instead of choosing the two popular approaches of either being a workaholic, or zoning out and doing something mindless, what else can you do with wasted time?

I wasted time failing. It won't be the last. Still, God's grace is sufficient for me.

Bonus
On Sunday, a question was posed: Have you ever asked godly people for criticism?
The background was that godly people are one of five basic ways to hear God speaking - but when do we ask for it?
It resparked a thought that had arisen earlier. I lost a considerable amount of money in an investment that ended up being a ponzi scheme, after reading an investment book (that in fairness, would have frowned on this), having a meeting with three financial advisors (I liked one of them better than the one I went with), and calling three people to ask about their experience with the advisor I did go with (they didn't have anything bad to say). Why? Because Sherry and I prayed about it, and that's where I felt like God was leading. Why didn't I call three people and ask them to pray about it with us? Or even, yes, ask for criticism? Might it have come up that way if I'd been thinking better? Actually Nolan, no, this is a bad idea - you should pray about it some more.
I don't know, but I am open to criticism, and hope I'll remember to start asking for it.

A Scream

I don't have time for any wisdom, or light-heartedness, but right now my soul is a bit crushed from foolish ambitions run afoul. From spending all day removing stain from just the sidelight of the front door with two doors remaining. Yes, if I stay up until midnight, maybe I'll be back to square one, well not quite - It's not as nice as square one. But back at square one the first I was full of hope and dreaming of art, but with no where near the skill or experience to be screwing around with art, especially with so much other work to do and a pressing deadline. Yes, an utter fool, and it hurts. Perhaps this break and admission will save my garage from more angry swearing.

What happens when your favourite colour changes?

For the past week, I have been working on house plants, using the top of the kitchen table. We have had problems with the never-ending nuisance of gnats, or fruit flies, or whatever the tiny flying bugs are that won't give up and perish completely. So I purchased some sand and placed a layer on the top of all of the house plants. This is supposed to prevent the pesky insects from making soil their base of operations. While doing this I decided to upgrade the housing for a few plants who had outgrown their pots. I should mention at this point that I am a certified horticultural aficionado, and my reasoning is above reproach when deciding such things. How dare you even question my intuitive plant-care genius. Of course you can repot in the middle of winter.

This morning I decided to clean up the mess, but wait, I still have one empty pot, and that green plant over there looks like it needs a larger pot (especially since Sherry said it didn't). The empty pot wasn't any larger, but I could split the plant and it would effectively double the available soil. Daniel was around and informed me that when he had previously tried to pierce the dirt with his soil sensor, it was like trying to lance granite. Yes, yes, the doctor of all things growing realizes that it must be terribly root-bound and desperate for a change in abode.

I'll just grab this butter knife and stab around in the soil a great deal - to loosen things up. It's still stuck! I'll have to saw through the roots here and stab around some more around the perimeter, there we go. Good heavens, what kind of plant is this? These roots look like a freakish mix of potato tentacles and carrots. But it's such a small little grassy plant. What is it doing with all these roots! It will never fit in these two pots. Its needs are far more excessive than I'd imagined. So to Walmart I go to thriftily save my surgeoned friend.

Walmart is conveniently next to Rona in the South. Rona conveniently has a garden centre. I conveniently have 3 very small pots that would be remiss if I didn't find them tenants. I'll just check to grab a few interesting specimens to add to my oxygen amassing force. What's this, a giant truckload sale! Just look at all these giant plants, all so cheap! But I must have them! I decided to speak to a very knowledgeable staff member (she knew more than I did!), who enlightened me about things like how when I replanted my cacti in a tall pot I was an idiot because cactus roots stay shallow - and yes it is apparently stupid to repot anything in the middle of winter (not to mention my terribly claustrophobic flowering grass plant was probably happy to have such small conditions). But is she smart enough to go to Walmart to save a few dollars on pots? I don't know, I didn't feel it an appropriate subject to bring up. But I did do just that. Since the pots, and the plants were so cheap, I picked up the 3 mini plants to fill my mini pots, my two larger pots for the cause of this whole trip, plus 5 other plants, because well, they're green.

Even though I had to proceed to setting a record for the most time spent trying to checkout of a store ever, my mood wasn't dampened. It was also exciting to try and fit all those plants into the cab of my truck with me (they look MUCH bigger when they're wrapped in paper). I was just glad I could still see my side mirror and do shoulder checks if I looked at very specific angles. I got home and made my mess on the kitchen table worse. I didn't finish them all before needing to rush off to meet Sherry for the Mid-wife appointment. But you know what? Even though I thought Sherry would be a little peeved that I was spending time and money on my distracting addiction instead of working on our home renos, she smiled at me and was supportive (and explained that the grassy thing is a spider plant). There have been many moments like that. It's like she read in a book somewhere that one of the many secrets to confusing your husband and having a great marriage is to roll with his illogical moments and love him anyway. I try to return the favour.

I finished repotting the new plants when we got home and cleaned up the table at last while Sherry made a most delicious beef broccoli & boc choy stir-fry. Then I remembered that someone asked me what my favourite colour was yesterday, and I suddenly became unsure of something that has been unchanging since as long as I can remember. Somewhere, somehow, someway, sometime, something metamorphosed. So my blog changed colour schemes to celebrate the accurate me. Green is the new blue. Plants are the new candy. Children are so attracted to sweets, but me, I grow more and more unimpressed by sugar. But get me into a greenhouse and I want it all.

Look it's distraction, or was it self-preservation?

Today, I started strong. I got a fire going again and immediately went to work on taking measurements for my problematic bay window. It was created wrong, and VERY thankfully seems like it will be recreated. Then I enjoyed some toasted open face mexican salmon sandwiches. Instead of going to get more wood screws (which has been put off at least three days now), I allowed myself to get distracted after this and set out to search out a whimsy I'd had while visiting Sherry's Aunt & Uncle. HerUncle had poured washed pebbles for his bathroom floor and then filled the gaps/coated them with epoxy and it was kind of cool. It somehow reminded me of being in Costa Rica and visiting a hot springs spa where all the pools were madewith lava rock. It seems like it should be inhospitable tostand on, but isn't. So I did a little investigating online into whether I could build a bathtub like this. It turns out you can, but it is not recommended. First you should be very experienced in tile-setting and second even then it is challenging, time-consuming, relatively costly and requires perfection of the many water-proofing details. Probably an idea not to pursue. So instead I looked at Japanese wooden tubs which are beautiful and artistic and also very costly - except for a note on one website that recommended, "or find a trusted, very experienced carpenter to build one for you." This shouldn't have encouraged me as I am not very experienced in fine carpentry but come on, I can't build a box? A box that needs 16 coats of finish to make it waterproof, but still. Reminders ran through my mind several times during this lapse of fancy, that I am not renovating my bathroom right now, but I didn't listen, until 2:00.

It was crunch time and I needed to see some production out of myself before Sherry's first Christmas present date. So I opted for the no-screws-required kitchen window, and treated myself to music via ipod whilst doing it (and passersby to singing). The very creative renovators who redid our kitchen before it was our kitchen decided that the window didn't need superlative trim - it needed cabinets built right to the edge of the glass and backsplash tile likewise on the bottom. All mostly fine and dandy, until I replace the window. Lucky for me I'm also very creative and realized, oh I can just reduce the window size and remedy this problem, after I'd already ordered the window the same size as the original. So the new remedy became everyone loves windows that are flush with cabinets and haveno trim and let's just knock that row of tiles right off. Who needs insulation on the sides of windows when some crazy person is adding 6" of rigid foam on top of this anyway?

I didn't let any of this phase me by the way, I didn't even care because what could I do about it now? I was also distracted by the fact that my fingers were going numb and I was only half-way through this little task. 3/4 of the way through my fingers were screaming at me. The last nail bent and received a severe tongue-lashing because it delayed me getting back inside the house to my fire where my hands would take 15 minutes to mostly thaw out. Back at the half-way point I was still thinking happy thoughts like - it's OK Nolan keep going, think of friends who need prayer, pressing through difficult things is a good way to pray for others to do the same. The last quarter brought me back to animalistic memories of being at work and being so cold that my mind begins to flip out and hate me for even existing. Are there El-Paca gloves with some sort of protective shell that still give your fingers great dexterity? No there are not, which is an ancient sign from God that unless you're already an Eskimo, you shouldn't try to become one.

Thank you Jesus for thinking of me when you asked me to stay and keep framing even though I knew what I was getting myself into starting my first day in a blizzard and going home early because it was close to minus 30. I'm sorry that Kyle & Terry don't know you yet, or really, any of the other guys I worked with in the last six years. That's why I stayed. I'm sorry I'm not super-Christian yet. I really want to leave and not frame anymore, and I don't feel like I need to. I know I listen less than I used to but need to do some more of that before concluding anything.

I'm glad I got to do something that challenged me, and let me be outside and tactile. I'm glad I got to meet some great people you love. I'm glad that you still think of me and will ask more things.

Thinking Alone In The Best (Sunniest) Room In The House

I have been in BC since Boxing (Sun)day, and yesterday Sherry and I drove to Walmart to pick up some things for her Mom and then to stop in and visit her Aunt&Uncle. But I was grumpy. I was glad to get out of the house and see some sunshine, but I was still inside a car, and then dreadfully, in a Walmart. Stores are obnoxious. Later, while we were visiting, her Aunt asked if I was going crazy yet from not doing anything, and I said yes. She smiled and said that's how Sherry's Uncle gets when they're on holidays, and really how he's been the past two years dealing with shoulder injuries. Yes I like doing things. Even though there are a lot of things that could be done around the house here, I feel like there are more pressing personal things that need addressed. But they're not being addressed. And I don't like them floating around.

We've thought of moving here for a year. Come out while Sherry's on maternity, and see more of her family. And my feelings aren't easily described regarding those thoughts. There are those pesky practical details like a home we own that has mortgage payments, and would my sister and her husband stay there? Would they be lonely on their own? I might be lonely if they were on their own. If we come out here what will that mean for work? I'd have to find something temporary back in Calgary after school for a few months until we came out, and then I'd have to find something temporary here. Temporary things don't usually pay very well, and there are those aforementioned pesky practical details. But who knows? I could end up with the best job of my life.

I have always lived in Calgary. The longest I've left is two months. Even though I enjoy travelling, and new places, residing is completely different. Residing anywhere will be completely different come June with the addition of a baby. But why only change that when you can pack up and move to the other side of the mountains too. What will that feel like to leave family and friends, work, church, and even a little bit of culture behind?

"I'll sail away, I'll sail away, forever and forever." It's an Ace Troubleshooter song line that has been floating through my head this week, reminding me of a prophecy that had me curious about this question before I even started dating Sherry.
A picture of an exploratory voyage. Except that the concept was music. I would have to sail away and leave, like an explorer to find my own sound. Music. Playing music is a forgotten fog.
More than that though, I know faith is known for uprooting people. Sherry even has friends in BC, and it would be nice to see them more except that they are leaving too. A family of six off to become missionaries in Africa, and Pam perhaps to school in California.
I suspect it's the uprooting I don't like the thought of. I can deal with change. Quickly in fact. Very soon it feels routine. But it's the temporary nature that is so unsettling. When you are dating, you have to try and make things happen, you have to woe. While you do this you must be fearless or you will fail. You won't be yourself, you will be false if you lack confidence. It's tricky though because you love, and cherish, and the thought of loss is frightening. If you make it through, marriage is a beautiful thing, because you have committed to each other and there is no longer even a question of loss by rejection (in my world) - and it becomes simpler to be free as yourself, even though you no longer live for yourself.
Places are like that too. If you know you will be, or might be leaving, you lose the moment. You're looking ahead, you're already disengaging. When we had the 'urban monastery' house of nine people together, I had a much harder time with the second year than the first. It seemed backwards. The first year was strange and such a steep learning curve of a challenge for getting along with all these other people and completely changing the way you get up and make it through your day. Trial and error, pain and failure, disappointment or not, I pressed on, and loved it, because we succeeded in the moments and there was joy. In the second year, so many had plans for moving on, and the moments disappeared.
How do you move somewhere if you know you'll be leaving soon? What meaning will all of the painful adjusting have if you are already planning to go again?
How can you even have trust?
I want to move in, and I will feel the need to change my environment. Clutter and darkness be damned. I want space and colour and light. I want fresh air from living plants, not cigarette smoke. I want to cook in the kitchen without worrying about waking someone sleeping in the chair across from me or looking at a television that thinks it should never be turned off. I want to cook things my way, if I'm the one cooking, not how you like to do it, and I don't want to eat your cooking if you're going to use ingredients I don't like.
Which is fine, I can kill all of this selfishness and work things out, if we can trust each other. But if I'm coming into their home, their territory, and want to make any changes. Changes have cost, have consequences. And how can those be welcomed if we will leave them in the end.
Even more frightening - how do we leave them in the end? How do you choose where to live? Because there will be that question. Why go back? Why are you leaving us?
Well...
Um...
My family is there.
But Sherry's family is here.
How do you decide which family your children will grow up being around. (Which leads me to another tangent about how you take the family you're closest to for granted and make more deliberate effort to spend time with the family you don't live near and only see occasionally).
I've thought about the question of place before and always thought - I don't move flippantly. If I have no reason to move, then why? If God asked me to. That's why. That would be a good reason to choose.
I've got two months to do home renos, and if I'm lucky, I'll finish early and get to spend some time in prayer and fasting, like six years ago.

Becoming

Becoming a gardener: I sometimes water my plants once a week, and I try to fill the watering can with water a day before so the fluoride/chlorine/etc can off-gas. I'm not growing anything. But I do have a mountain of peat-moss waiting to go into yet-to-be-built raised garden beds, and aspirations of getting a couple of truckloads of cheap mushroom manure. Spring will come only too soon.

Becoming strong: I did go rock-climbing with Sherry, Ian and Zachary once this fall, in the rain no less. And I went running, yes actual running where your lungs ignite, with Jason once. It was followed by four very long sets of planks (yes I'm as strong as my girls' soccer team workout training goal from 8 years ago!) and some drop-dead from exhaustion really quick faux-cycling ab decimation. Oh right but that was just once.

Remembering how to pray: Failing marvelously. I read Too Busy Not To Pray by [Bill Hybels perhaps?], back in the summer and listened to a number of good sermons by Billings Vineyard. Anyway, both inspired and assisted me in praying more, for a little while... Having my Mom decline with cancer was also motivating to pray, even having her die led me to step out in praying for her to rise from the dead with more faith than I have ever had before. She didn't rise though, but that's not why my praying has dropped off. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm 'too busy'. Let's come back to this later.

Listening for and to God each day: As marvelous as above.

Becoming handy, creative and constructive: I was contemplating life while driving home late a few weeks ago after a Cohousing meeting and I decided that I am addicted to complexity. This addiction has gotten me into debt, both literally, and in amounts of obligatory work I am buried beneath. I am painfully, and expensively, and slowly gaining skill and experience, probably depression more than confidence, and my artistic envisioning side is bruised but very alive. A better approach might have been to switch careers and learn these things with other people, while getting paid, but that was taking too long and would have been too easy, which wouldn't allow me to indulge in my addiction.

Being social: Not enough to feel alive. I still say yes to things, because otherwise I might disappear, so I went to Connor's birthday party, and went to our neighbour's son's birthday party, and a coming home party for our neighbour's parents. But it's probably a bad sign when I start thinking things like, what's the big deal with death any way? So many people in my life might as well be dead for how much I see them (do you see the selfish patterns of the world revolving around me in this thought?) I still measure friends by how many phone calls and subsequent visits I get, and that means I have close to none. Instead of calling people on my own, I put in 9-10 hour days at school trying for perfection, come home and deal with home renos badly in the no-remaining daylight and cold, and try to pitch in with cooking, or at least making breakfast plus smoothies for my pregnant wife. How could my artistic side ever wane when God does awesome art like babies inside women?

Scripture speaking: It has. It's just hard to remember because my Mom died one month ago today, and it's been quiet since.

I remember telling Sherry and Andy that it was incredible how much support our family had with my Mom. But I remember last year when Trevor's Mom died, I just called him and came over to be there. So I helped sort through photos for a slideshow and got to give Trevor a hug of course. I got lots of emails saying, if you need anything let us know. Which is nice, but not what I needed. I needed people calling and coming over. So Andy took me out mini-golfing and bought me lunch. Nice huh? At my Mom's funeral, after the service, the family walked around the building to avoid the crowds and had first dibs at the snacks, which is all very perfunctory but I skipped the snacks and went straight back for the crowds, and skipped hand shakes and gave everyone hugs.

With renos practically going backwards and no offers of help except from my Dad now and then, I feel like quitting Cohousing, which feels like betrayal to me. I don't have time or energy for it now, but I like those people and Cohousing itself is a solution for so much of what's wrong with me right now.

I'm wait-listed for back-to-back school terms. I'm 5th in line and apparently that means I have a reasonable chance of getting in as a result of people over-spending during Christmas and dropping out to work it off. I'm not sure I necessarily care either way. If I can find some work doing finishing for those two months I'd make some money and learn something new and have a bit of a schedule switch which is always refreshing.

OK back to work. I must go cut a hole in my ceiling so that I can access the piping to my hose-bib (outdoor faucet), which while extending to prep for adding the foam, I snapped off. So stupid. My Dad called a plumber who he used to work with at Nortel who said he'd come by and look at it if I cut a hole in my ceiling. I had to snap it off though. Otherwise it would have been less complicated. I just can't get enough.

What do I want to become

So, my friend Kirk brought up that our house church could actually start to progress with some of the ideas we had started to throw around about church. Right...

House church has been kind of drifting too (I had a picture of our church with a line from a Matt Good song: "I'm just a boat on the ocean, I'm just a ship lost at sea." with the missing, "wind of the spirit fill the sails of my soul, send us on Lord."

My craving, as far as learning at church goes, is to pick a few things, say four each year, and go deep with them. Come at them from different angles. And please spare me weekly, or even biweekly long lectures. They don't teach me, they asleep me. I need interaction, and most importantly I need action. It needs to become practical quickly. And then we need to practice. And practice some more. And keep practicing until it's normal. Until it's routine. Until it's unstoppable and won't fade away.

And so I put this idea forward to our house church and Kirk took it and actually came up with some very personal, and fantastic, and inspiring options for growth. I got excited. What do I want to become?

I want to become a gardener. I want to grow vegetables, and herbs, and berries, and trees. I want to play in the dirt.

I want to become strong. I want to run and climb, and jump, and hike, and bike, balance and stretch.

I want to remember how to pray all day. I want to take celtic prayers (a prayer for each activity). I want to become prayerful.

I want to listen for and to God each day. I want to overcome fear of silence, and getting it jumbled and wrong, and ignoring him. I want to become prophetic.

I want to become handy, creative, and constructive. I want to tackle house projects and renos. I want to gain skills and experience, and confidence, and art.

I want to remember how to be a friend to more than just one. I want to save my poor extroverted spirit who shrivels trying to become all these other things alone.

I want to remember that scripture can be alive. I want it to speak to everything I become.

Guacamole, Daylight & Friends: Pleasure

Sherry's "finishing her chapter" before we go to bed (there must be only two chapters in that book). So I hopped on the computer to read Faye's blog I noticed her working on the other day. There were in fact two posts. I also read Rachel's, and now I feel compelled to write my own.

I suppose a lot has changed since I was house shopping with Sherry last year. I don't know how much time I have to write this blog; Sherry could, after all, decide to get tired and not finish the book, I mean chapter. So what to include? Let me start with now and work backwards.

Right now, I just finished working on a Roof Material Estimating Calculations module. I'm in my 2nd year Carpentry apprenticeship 8 weeks of school. I just finished week 4. In 4 weeks I must return to work. Return to what work? Well, I'll probably go back to framing with Kyle - well probably not directly any more. I'll be running a crew now. Is this exciting news? Well, not really. In many ways it's disappointing. I'm still framing. It feels like the necessary denouement to my framing career. I've 'run things' while Kyle's been on vacation. But now it will be running things all the time. It scares me, because there are often bad things that arise while framing, and they are stressful to work around. You encounter other people's mistakes and have to compensate. You make mistakes and have to fix them. Your crew makes mistakes and you have to have them fix them. These sorts of things happen all too often and steal all the fun out of work. Then comes the complicated problem-solving opportunities that I always seem to take too much time thinking through. Mainly they go something like:

1. Don't screw this up like that other time Nolan

2. Hmm what if I did it like this?

3. But what about...

4. Agh this is taking too long and I'll screw it up even after all this deliberation - just do it!

Yes, often those were all vocalized - just to make sure I look crazy.

Then comes the tools-not-working setbacks and the weather wreaking havoc.

And it becomes oh so difficult to focus with all the mental multi-tasking of directing and teaching other people and trying to coordinate tasks efficiently, while making sure we have the right materials.

So, can I do it?

God I hope so. If only until November.

It will be good, it will be another step in 'growing up'.

Growing up, by the way, has come to mean attaining the right to say, "yes I can do that."

To honestly say those words, usually involves having struggled to learn how to do that once already, and succeeded.

Back to the disappointing part. I don't feel very fulfilled building houses that don't measure up to the potential I've discovered they can be. I'm not saying I only want to build million dollar houses. I'm saying I want to build sustainably. Sadly I will be working on Sable houses. Maybe that's necessary. Maybe it's better this way. It might be good to learn how to run a crew while working on quick and easy cookie cutters. In the future, when the economy picks up and Builders are looking for crews, I can slide over to working with a Jayman or an Avalon on Built Green houses. But that doesn't seem likely. I have fingers that have degenerated into miserable imposters for Canadian-raised appendages. I can't frame in the winter.

That's not a bad thing, because there are so many other pieces to building a house that I want to learn. Owning a house has only accelerated that need. Everywhere I look I now wish I could say, "I can do that."

If I didn't have quite so loyal a personality, I would just go find jobs in all the various trades for 3 months to get a basic understanding of each. Except that even if my loyalty didn't suck me into 6 year stretches, my quest for excellence in craft would.

Home renovations are intimidating. We have a tight budget (even if we didn't I'd still be shrewd and forever looking for more bang for my buck) and I have lofty ambitions. This generates the "all labour by me" factor in the equation. Which you might connect from the long ramble before this, will translate into stress as I fumble my way through the learning curve, and a gigantic magnet for the sucker in me who wants to find out how to excavate down to the footing, cut holes into the foundation, throw 4-7" of EPS foam on the exterior, enclose the chimney piping, move, expand, create, and replace windows and doors, complete with drywall and casing work, remove, trim and reattach soffit, install Hardi-plank siding, have an HRV system installed, finish the ceiling and top rim of a shower, install insulation stops in the roof, add more ceiling insulation, redo attic accesses that will properly seal air tight, build terraced window wells, engage in faux-painting techniques and finish in time to get busy on the yard work I have planned: Plant a few trees, build raised garden beds, and an elaborate garden. Then I'll rest up until I feel the need to frame in a closet in the bedroom downstairs and install cork flooring in the basement and the upper bedrooms, and pour a stamped concrete patio in the back, with a stone wall maybe.

So, call me slightly ambitious, or stupid.

I continue to get more and more complicated with my eating and cooking habits. I'm slightly ambitious in my quest for delicious and healthy food too. I'll save you the list though.

I've left behind past ambitions. I haven't gone skiing once yet, and haven't made any plans to do so. I haven't been climbing in almost a year. I never started dance lessons. I've lost old disciplines. I don't work out. I don't read the bible. No lectio divinas.

My Mom has cancer, and before Christmas I'd cry every day and pray for her. 2010, it's almost set into being normal, but every few days it will still hit me. My goal is to see her once a week, and even that feels weak.

Most of the time it feels like I'm trying my best. I still look for and appreciate wonderful things. Guacamole, daylight, an evening with friends. I'm quite sure it's those beautiful tastes, sights, and connections that keep life abundant. God deserves a lot of thanks. Sometimes I remember how it's easier than I think to be close to him. Other times all I can find is how hard it is to pin him down on demand.

His love is unfailing, and mine is persevering.

Shopping, But What Do We Need?

So Sherry and I have begun house shopping with our excellent realtor, Mark Horch.  Our search area is pretty broad:  South of the Bow River, East of Sarcee Trail, North of Fish Creek Park, and West of Barlowe Trail.  Our price range narrows down the physical area; I have yet to see anything come up in Mission for example.  Riverbend was a pleasant surprise as a focus community, it's beautiful, green, super close to Sherry's work, and the river/Carburn park, and you get really good value for your money.  Other surprise areas I didn't guess I would be seriously considering are Deer Run and Woodbine.  

So we've looked at hundreds of listings online, and gone out to see a dozen with more lined up.  And while yes, we can easily say, oh they're asking way too much for this, or wow, who let these plans get passed?  We don't really know what we're looking for.  We don't know who will be living with us.  How many bedrooms do we need?  Should we be looking for something we can suite?  How much can we really afford?  (especially if we want to dress it up).  Strange questions and yet I still think God will let us know which house to get.  And though I've very soberly thought it would be so much easier to be renting and saving for the next couple of years, I have no peace that it's the thing to do.  

In other news, tomorrow will be day 4 off of work due to my back/neck being scrunched Friday.  The awesome Dr. Nardella will be attacking me tomorrow again (my poor, poor abused body).  But no one heard me ask for a nice chiropractor, I just want results!  (he is nice anyway, he's just aggressive)

Research Projects

So, aside from Rock Climbing, I've been occupied with a few research projects lately.
I was in Chapters a few weeks ago with Sherry and came across a book entitled, How Jesus Became Christian, by Barrie Wilson. I opened it up and read a little bit. It seemed very controversial, and I wanted to read it. So we looked it up at the Calgary Public Library, and sure enough they had it. I looked for a couple of other books along the same lines from different viewpoints to balance things and found What Have They Done With Jesus? by Ben Witherington III and Lee Strobel's The Case For The Real Jesus.
Due to a house start delay and two especially cold days. I had a few days off work with which to get a giant head start on the reading. I was doing complimentary reading on the side with various biblical passages and looking into sources. And the first book got to me. As an aside, the writing style is irritating. The book could have been a third or less of its size if he didn't repeat himself endlessly, often quoting himself verbatim from previous chapters. But how would the book look impressive enough to be worth selling if it was a quarter of its size?
I was also irritated by his fixation on anti-semitism (what is semitism you might ask? Dicitionary.com gives us "Of, relating to, or constituting a subgroup of the Afro-Asiatic language group that includes Arabic, Hebrew, Amharic, and Aramaic." But some Nazi-influencing writer used it in contrast to aryan groups and now the only time you'll hear semitic is following anti and always specifically designating Jewish racial prejudice).
I'm sure historically anti-semitism has been an issue within purportedly Christian groups. Otherwise why would the media hype on it so much? But it just seems ridiculously stupid to me. Why would you hate the culture your God specifically honours? The people that your God chose to become human within? The race that founded your religion?
So very very ignorant, and perhaps this was pertinent back in medieval times when common people were exploited by some politically bent, power-mongering educated elitists. But come on? Do you really need to sell this to Chapters' readers?
That's not what got to me though.

His theory is that Jesus was a very Torah (Jewish Law)-abiding rabbi. That his true followers didn't think he was anything but a man, albeit an anti-Roman man, who was resurrected after his crucifixion, and now was waiting for the opportune time to return and create peace on earth. And that Paul was bored or demented and decided to invent a religion for non-Jewish people who thought Jewish people were cool, that would be more similar to some Hellenized religions (Hellenized, as in the virulent Greek-Roman culture). This religion was popular (even though it led to horrific persecution) until a Caesar made it the state religion, and then it became truly predominant and they snuffed out Jesus' true followers. But because it's more distinguished to be an ancient religion, they wrote the fictitious book of Acts to tie themselves to Judaism, and then hate Judaism.

It's all very nice to have a more objective perspective on the book now, but whilst reading it, I think I doubted my faith for the first time in my entire life. What would I do if Christianity's beliefs were all based on one man's mystical experience that didn't match up with the person in the vision?
Would I convert to Judaism like the author? Why? Then it would all be based on other people's mystical experiences.
How would I rediscover Truth?
My entire life, since early childhood I've believed in and interacted with God in very dynamic, and personal ways. So why would I suddenly doubt my entire life? I think it's because I value truth, whether I like it or not.

So it has been very interesting to find out how biased and often very unreliable his sources are. It has been very refreshing to go through the second book which while countering the first book in many ways quite successfully, also has brought many additional new things to light.
Right now though I don't want to go on at any length since I haven't finished, but I'm satisfyingly learning.

Sherry and I have also been poking about in the world of autonomous and sustainable housing.
I build houses for a living and it was of great comfort to recently discover that framing is still important in the construction of eco-houses. We went to visit ASH Inc. 's public tour of their house-office last Saturday and it was exciting. For one thing, their website is far outdated and thus there were lots of new and fresh innovations and developments. But mostly it was exciting because our dream is so tangible and attainable, in a sooner than later kind of way.
What we would like to see is a Co-op Housing development created with this kind of building approach. So now we must look into Co-op Housing into much greater detail (lucky for us we have friends involved in one), while continuing to do research into the building side, to figure out the specific steps of action we must take.

The last field of research which I will include to show my failures, is personal investing and finances. I'm still in the everlong spot of lots of intention and several points of trying to instigate, but nothing has yet materialized in any sort of real beginning.

The Deadliest Of Creatures By My Bed

Sherry found a Venus' Fly Trap on sale at Rona last week when we were shopping and we got it.
When we first stepped into the garden centre, I was in love. It was bright and green. The air was humid, fresh and powerful. There were a myriad of beautiful living artworks. Thus I exited a proud and determined father of a plant (smugly still not possessing any pets). The instructions seemed simple enough. I would dedicatedly care for this wonder. In return it would smite my great nemesis, Mr. Fruit Fly.
Then I got home and looked them up on the internet and found some of the funniest written material I've come across in a long time:
The International Carnivorous Plant Society
Brilliant! Except I was doomed...
Venus' Fly Traps are ridiculously finicky and very high maintenance. What a fantastic first choice Nolan.
And yet I have prevailed on my quest. I went and bought a water filtration system at Community Natural Foods (my boss got it a couple of months ago). I had been considering it for awhile but regular city tap water just isn't good enough for my plant. No chlorinated fluoridated sewage for its likings.
I also bought Sprite Zero. Who would have guessed plants need artificially sweetened carbonated beverages? Well they don't. They just need a cheap terrarium, courtesy of a bottle whose bottom has been cleaved off.
Next I bought a lamp, a very stylish lamp from Wal-Mart I might add, paired with the oh-so-economical 13watt compact fluorescent bulb pumping out over 800 lumen (which I pimped out with brightness-increasing internally-reflective foil). That was not enough though. I had to carefully construct a 4 sided box from a nacho chip box and aluminum foil. Originally I had planned to make its home my bathroom; I decided against such things when I realized how annoying having an extension cord going across the counter and haphazardly balancing the appartment on my bath tub would be.
So now it gets to live on my bedroom window sill right above a heat register. With the timer for plugging my car in being used to ignite the light after the sun abandons the windowed west-facing wall at noon.
No it's not the $300 fish tanked wonder environment the website boasts, but my plant may just survive. At least it's lived long enough for me to feed it all the dead fruit flys collected off the other window sills.

The Night Before Snow Flies

Everything is different while life moves on in similar ways.

I still have to cook dinner once a week, but now I do it on the same day of each week, I needn't prepare as much food, and I often eat with just Sherry and possibly Faye.  

I still frame houses, but now there is less security than ever of having another house to succeed the present one, and I travel further away to build them.  I also carpool with Sherry, which is warm and fuzzy.  I still endeavour quite naturally to pray for and love my coworkers, but again there is another beyond the first.  

I played with another band that sparked a little bit of drive but lacked members of commitment.  

I've read more books to challenge my thinking and ways of life, and excitedly retold stories of their ideas, and with two I've been able to share the telling with Sherry, and that has been delightful.  

I've purchased, and listened to more music.  As always, some of it has proven more impulsive than wise, and others are phenomenal - dulling their peers and predecessors.  

I've hung out with family and friends.  Friends are probably seen more seldom than ever, but always prove fond with sight or sound - oh I love laughter.   

I've made to-do lists that never get finished, but at least a couple of things on each assure me I'm not entirely lazy or useless.  

I've been relaxed, and enamoured, and let my hair get too long.  

My car is still running, while its doors fall to pieces. 

I get more sleep than ever, but don't have the same energy as before.  

Each day seems to suggest that the world is full of pressing crisis, the most prominent being my lack of adequately addressing them.  And each day seems to contain a great deal of beauty and joy that suggests crisis can't overcome.  But perhaps that's because the crisis hurts others more than me.  

Thank God he speaks, saves, counsels and loves more than me.  

August Almond Coconut Coffecake

So I would have finished with a splash and the cake but the image uploader is undergoing internal errors. We had a UM BBQ last night, complete with pictures which I suppose I could also post off my camera but first I should get some post-processing software which I can compress them with so they upload in a blink and second I should actually look into something like flickr to post lots of pictures. I'm not despondent anymore. You probably know me well enough to realize it can't stick very long. We looked at a fantastic house to rent last night too and are praying that we are the blessed chosen ones to receive it. Today when I arrived at work I found that the lock was not secured properly on the trailer, for five days. Holy Cow! No... Actually as I recall, I specifically prayed over the site and the trailer before I left Thursday and it would be Holy Jesus who protected it. I love him.

Life seems different. I've been practicing music again. It's painful how bad I've become, but it's so satisfeche to be playing. Which is what I should be doing right now. Learning Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots, Metallica and Bush - yes Greg is obsessed with the 90s. The rest of the summer will fly by - Sherry's parents' 35th wedding anniversary, my cousin's wedding, our friends' wedding, not to mention packing. I haven't been out climing once (though I did get to go backpacking twice - hooray)! Of course I still haven't seen several friends since our wedding (or earlier...) either! But with lots of work, and the usual commitments of volunteering at JLYS and now band practice once a week - just spending time with Sherry, my housemates and family takes a lot.

It's been good to focus lately on the concept from the 4-faced creature out of Revelations that all creation worships God when it does what it was created to do. Humans have the unique priviledge of adding to that: articulation through artistic expression. Which is why I must start practicing music again. Good night and God bless!

I Need Someone Else's Optimism

A lot has happened since I last wrote and greater things deserve to be written about than what will be.  I'm grumpy.  There's a lot beneath that, but I'll try to stay on today's source of agitation.  Our lease is up at the end of August, and the fall will look very different.  I remember last summer's doom and gloom discussions and Angela being so bright-side and encouraging.  I needed that.  I probably need a whole lot of those this summer.  Dear Jesus help.  

The Clouds Are Getting Ominous - Pray about this please

Joshua3:5And Joshua said to the people, Sanctify yourselves [that is, separate yourselves for a special holy purpose], for tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among you.

    6Joshua said to the priests, Take up the ark of the covenant and pass over before the people. And they took it up and went on before the people.

    7The Lord said to Joshua, This day I will begin to magnify you in the sight of all Israel, so they may know that as I was with Moses, so I will be with you.

    8You shall command the priests who bear the ark of the covenant, When you come to the brink of the waters of the Jordan, you shall stand still in the Jordan.

 ^{Malachai 3:7}Even from the days of your fathers you have turned aside from My ordinances and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you, says the Lord of hosts. But you say, How shall we return?

    ⁸Will a man rob or defraud God? Yet you rob and defraud Me. But you say, In what way do we rob or defraud You? [You have withheld your] tithes and offerings.

    ⁹You are cursed with the curse, for you are robbing Me, even this whole nation.^(C)

    ¹⁰Bring all the tithes (the whole tenth of your income) into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house, and prove Me now by it, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.^(D)

    ¹¹And I will rebuke the devourer [insects and plagues] for your sakes and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground, neither shall your vine drop its fruit before the time in the field, says the Lord of hosts.

    ¹²And all nations shall call you happy and blessed, for you shall be a land of delight, says the Lord of hosts.

Matthew 9:17

Neither is new wine put in old wineskins; for if it is, the skins burst and are torn in pieces, and the wine is spilled and the skins are ruined. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved. 

Mark 2:22

And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; if he does, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost and the bottles destroyed; but new wine is to be put in new (fresh) wineskins. 

Luke 5:37-38

And no one pours new wine into old wineskins; if he does, the fresh wine will burst the skins and it will be spilled and the skins will be ruined (destroyed). But new wine must be put into fresh wineskins. 

Ezekiel 11:19

And I will give them one heart [a new heart] and I will put a new spirit within them; and I will take the stony [unnaturally hardened] heart out of their flesh, and will give them a heart of flesh [sensitive and responsive to the touch of their God]

Ezek 18:31; 36:26; II Cor 3:3

I am blessed in the storm

in the calm

in the everyday

My marriage is blessed and ordained by God

I must fight for it

I will be down

It's God holding me down

He's going to give me new skin

new legs

a new heart

a new body

I will be raised up with Sherry

Who will be my Philip? (who explained the scriptures to the Eunuch)

The Clouds Are Getting Ominous, So Very Ominous

But I won't get back on the bus.  I'm starting to sense hints, even while writing this down.  

Evelyn

I love my family.  Even if many of them won't be able to come to my wedding in two months, I will see lots of them over the next couple of days, except one.  

I was driving to work this morning and thought of her and started crying.  I was in the middle of bawling my eyes out, when I suddenly pictured my face and burst out laughing because Sherry doesn't believe me that I can 'sob' (even though she's been right beside me) as it appears very reserved, as far as crying goes I suppose.  My face gets all scrunched up and my eyes burn and fill up with water and it gets hard to breathe.  But I haven't sobbed yet, just moments of crying here and there - it will come.  

Later on in the morning my Mom called to tell me that she'd passed away.  I'd lost my grandmother.  

This won't be the post to remember her.  I want to wait until I get home.  Perhaps Wednesday afternoon before JLYS.  

Right now I'm enjoying the memory of her face.  Her easy smile.  Her beautiful laugh.  Her troubled, "ohh." - almost more of a question.  

I want to go be with family.  I hope we get to hang around in living rooms and popcorn stories.  That's far more appealing than ceremonies.  

I'm grateful.  For a number of things.  I had very much wanted to write my grandparents a letter to send along with our wedding invitations, but the time came and life was hectic, and I deferred to - oh I can just send them a separate letter later.  It's very sad that I can't write them 

that letter.  I don't feel pained about it though.  I started singing at work, quite randomly - correction - quite led by the Holy Spirit (which has happened several times today and is in fact one of the 'number of things'), and cried:

"Sing a song of celebration

Lift up a shout of praise 

For the bridegroom will come, the glorious one

And oh, we will look on his face

We'll go to a much better place

Dance will all your might

Lift up your hands and clap for joy

For the time's drawing near, when he will appear

And oh we will stand by his side

A strong pure spotless bride

Oh we will dance on the streets that are golden

The glorious bride and the great song of man

From every tongue and tribe and nation will join

In the song of of the lamb"

Just last week I was pondering the scripture, "In my Father's house are many mansions:  if it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you." (John 14:2)  The word mansions.  I think as a child the idea was that God is building you your mansion.  That's ridiculous.  You know what mansions are for?  Lots of people together.  It delighted me, as I am living in a community house and it thrills me.  And some day, in heaven, I will wash dishes with Chasey for her and she'll be pleased and help us put things away and sing a little and tell us stories about how she picked up tangelos at the market.  She won't mind that I didn't get her that last letter, because we have all eternity to chat and joke, garden and cook, and sneak smiles with Jesus at all the moments treasured.  

A Rare Condition

I've wanted to say this for a few weeks now, and now I wonder as to what it means.

I think that I'm satisfied in life right now.  It's hard to say that when there are so many loose ends and more unresolved issues than I'm probably even aware of.  There are of course many uncertainties about even the near future and its arrangements.  People continue to ask me questions and bring up topics that remind me of what a fragile thing security is.  

Yet I dare say that I enjoy my life.  In contrast to so many other periods, I'm not fighting with confusion.  I'm not 'doing my time' waiting for, well for life to begin.  I'm already alive, and still believe the words that life is not a tragedy.  And I, I am not a tragedy; not the sum of a variety of failures, incompletes, lates, inabilities, absences, indiscretions, and disappointments.  No.  I am loved by God.  And he's contagious.  It starts sticking, and shifting, and spinning out.  

So pick 3 things Nolan...

Pick 3 things that you like about yourself - the evidence - with 3 instances.

And I don't want to.  

God reminded me of something he said, which I didn't want to use because it doesn't seem very glamourous - it's not very servantish, rather self-concerned really.  But all that aside,

I am a lover of music.

People frequently comment (Ryan did on Thursday and Friday) that I am always grooving/moving to the music (whether it's there externally or not).  It's true.  Very Calvin & Hobbesish but I love it, and it gets inside me.  

Pursuant/Resolutionizer (leads you to think of it clearer than Resolver)

I don't leave things to themselves.  I'll go after them; confront them.  

[Actually I'm fading - too much writing & thinking - I'm just staring now - I've lost my train of thought and motivation - ironic huh?]

Sentimental Income Tax Break

Well so far the worst day of the year hasn't been so bad.  I slept in, had weird dreams, ate 3 bowls of cereal and listened to Travis (the band) while beginning sorting through my filing.  For quite a while it has mildly irked me that my filing drawer is ridiculously over-stuffed.  Today I started pulling out all kinds of files and folders that don't need to be kept anymore, such as my pay stubs from 1998.  Actually I had a strange reaction to throwing those away - just the look of the paper brought back smells and sounds; faces and feelings.  

And I pulled out the letters folder.  I think I stopped putting more in after awhile because it was so full, yet this morning/afternoon I decided to read through them...  

I always like a good dose of nostalgia so I don't even feel guilty about how much time has been spent without even highlighting gst values on receipts.  

I had most, if not all, of Natalie's notes and letters in there.  That was wild to read through.  It's incredible how much writing can capture a person or a time.  I've changed so much in the last seven years and it was stimulating to revisit the past.  

Wow, what a time high school was.  I was constantly tired and under pressure.  I remember begging my Mom on a weekly basis if I could take even a short holiday from life - maybe a month or so but preferably a semester and then come back again.  I was working part time, doing unending homework, hanging out with friends and dating.  Very intriguing to look back at her letters and gain so many clues about what my letters probably contained.  I was deeply introspective, philosophical, reflective - always digging, as opposed to Natalie's notes which were so fun and full of the moment, almost frantic with dreams that were probably fulfilled later but treated like they should happen now.  She along with so many others challenged and sharpened and enlivened me, and got me into lots of trouble I probably didn't mind.  

I just switched settings and songs on my itunes which reminded me of my newest trivial and daunting mission:  I want to rip all of my music with FLAC or some other lossless encoder (and detailedly categorize it all and develop advanced smart playlists), and collect lots of fun hits to be used for the wedding, and really I'm starving for new music but realize that I can't really afford the time or money to go searching for something I will really appreciate - not that I have time for that other trivial mission - and I have large doubts as to whether it will be fulfilled.  

OK back to something I want to write about:

I had several letters from Beth too which were cool but self-fulfilled with these words:

"Boys are only scary in that to invest in a guy is to risk a part of me.  Girls are essentially emotional and the sharing of anything emotional is to give a part of herself.  I feel confident with you because a lot of our talk is spiritual or intellectual, and because you've had a serious girlfriend in the course of our friendship and it didn't change too much.  But most friendships with guys will probably change or die as they get married and we drift apart, so whatever part of me I've given them will go.  And I'll have that much less to give the man I marry.  Maybe it'll mean very little to him, but what goes on within is vital to me."

I met Beth at a River Roots (may long weekend camp) in high school and kept in touch by letter for years (actually, it might have started as a swap emails or whatever and pray for someone, which is exactly what we did).  We had such surprisingly strikingly different views and beliefs and were always sparking debates, amidst relating personal happenings.  

There were various other letters from friends and family including a couple I absolutely treasured from Faye which I feel like publishing:

"I just wanted to say I'm proud of you.  Almost every time I go to pray for you I want to argue with God about your fast and tell him to make you stop.  But every time I am refuted.  I'm glad that you have this opportunity to suffer for a time.  That is the weirdest sounding thing to say and no doubt if anyone else ever reads this letter they'll think you came from a very sadistic family, but I am glad for you.  I'm glad that when it's over you'll always be able to look back and know that you chose God and that God is so worthy of that choice that you would do it all over again.  I'm that that, perhaps for the first time in your life, you're learning to wait silently, without doing anything - I'm glad you'll have that experience too, even if it was only possible because your body was too weak to do much else.  You have tried not to let too many people know that you are fasting because it is something between you and God alone and so I constantly remind myself that it isn't my place to tell anyone either.  But for the people who do know, your actions are having a profound impact.  I think of you as "the changeling" in my mind because as you passionately seek change in your self, you cause the people and systems around you to change as well.  It just seems to be a unique charisma God gifted you with.  I'm glad you use it for good instead of evil.  :)  I love you very much Nolan and I know God is going to bless you for your obedience to him in ways I will never be able to even imagine. "

The 'good instead of evil' reference made me laugh because I also read a letter from Steve which contained:

"Hopefully there'll be more interesting people in CompSci than in Engineering.  That that the friends I made in Engg weren't nice but they're so not Nolanish.  That don't have that Nolany characteristic about them  And you know what?  I even have to humble myself to you in this aspect.  I alone am not strong enough to turn one, the way you turned Trevor.  Yes, you know what I'm talking about.  You are the emperor and poor little Trevor was Anakin.  If anything, I'm like Vader minus the evil aspect of course.  But you see, Vader wasn't strong enough to turn Luke over to the dark side.  You are the king of corruption.  If only I had an infectious robot to spread sarcasm and immature child-like behaviour all over campus.  I would call it NolBot2002."

Another letter from Faye, written January 17th 2006 (the date is included because I want to go look for the referenced blog - not because I compulsively added dates and times to nearly all my letters):

"Dear Nolan,

Sorry this isn't a comment on your log - I've had 4 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours and I just can't be bothered to remember what my epic password is.  Probably something like "nopassword"...

Anyways, I wanted to tell you something about yourself:  You're still my hero (even though you don't make cool motorcycle noises while you proudly bike around without having to sit on your bike seat! anymore).

Two weeks ago at Epic on Sunday, I sat beside Jen at church.  She wouldn't come sit close beside me - she needed space to feel strong.  I wished I could think of something to offer her in her grief over the loss of her mom, but the only thing that kept coming to mind was a passage from Captivating by John Eldrige, "After my father died, for weeks and months afterwards, the only thing that comforted me, that could heal me, was beauty."  

I didn't know how to offer Jen beauty.  Then you started dancing and playing with Conner on St. Paul's blessed slippery sloped wooden floors.  I watched her watch you both.  Conner kicked your shoe at you and she laughed.  I asked if she wanted to move over so she could see better.  She did.  I offered her your beauty, the glory of God in your love of a child.  

Going further back, a couple weeks after my birthday party, Caroline came up to me at Epic and told me, "I just wanted to thank you for inviting me to your party, and for sharing your family.  I just love your family!  They're so open and welcoming; I totally felt free to just be myself."  She was referring to our whole family in general, but I believe you were a great proportion of that reference, given that the biggest highlight of the party for her was watching My Fair Lady, where only you and Sam and my friends were present.

People change the way they act around you, Nolan.  In my experience, there are only 2 types of people for whom others will bend themselves to emulate a better version of themselves: (1) An intimidating tyrant who either manipulates or scares others to put on a false exterior of "goodness" or (2) a vibrant and genuine person who simply inspires other people to put out/forth the best that is in them, for sheer delight.  This person heals people just be being present.  Our grandparents are such people, I've noticed.  Sindy is such a person.  And so are you.  

I might not have had that birthday party if it wasn't for you, badgering me to do what you knew I wanted to do but was afraid of and therefore avoiding.  I do a LOT of things with you that I would never dare do alone and many other things alone that  I wouldn't make myself do unless you told me otherwise or I thought you would tell me otherwise.  I don't try those things because I'm afraid you'll judge me or "show me up" (like a classic "scrappy" middle child) but because you are a source of safety to me.  I know that God would never do anything evil to his children and I know that God speaks through you, so if you ask/tell me to do something, I feel compelled to courage, to strength, to challenge, to adventure, to love to go.  To be like you, in order to be more like me.

Um, anyways, I'm starting to babble.  You were right:  I did want to look at the blog.  Love always, Faye"

and lastly (because these were all I found in the folder):

"Happy Valentine's Day Nolan!

Since you refuse to abandon God's leading to accumulate the ill-fated love of another Delilah, this will probably be the only mushy and sentimental love letter you'll receive this Valentine's.  Take that!  

I love you, Nolan and I'm so glad you're my crazy older brother about whom I regale friends with tales of lunacy and androgyny.  I'm so grateful for all the times you've been there to listen to me or to teach me things about life and faith through your open/honest stories of your own journey. 

I'm proud of you for listening to God, even if you don't always follow his directions immediately.  I hope you have funk music dance parties with God and friends from here to Ontario to the Mediterranean to Timbuktu.  Love always, Faye Archer"