This n that

I had this idea in my mind for how it should look.
And I knew who had experience reading my mind.

So after I had a truck full of cedar boughs, spikey fern leaves, assorted pine branches and 4 strands of battery operated fairy lights, I called Terry.

And yes.
She knew exactly what I wanted.
And yes.
She could do it.
In 20 minutes.

Supplying Ter with the raw materials to create something beautiful transported me straight back to Billie's Country days. When, as a 26 year old brand new mom and shop co-owner, I'd meet creative strangers who'd buy supplies from the craft side of the store. I'd ask them what they were making, could they bring their finished 'thing' back so I could see... and if it was good quality, I'd hire them to teach in our classrooms. Eventually I had a team of 16 talented, artistic, friendly, helpful teachers/friends who taught thousands of classes over the years.

I'd bring in new products/supplies from our wholesalers or trade shows and let them have at er. I loved watching them design, paint, assemble, create, teach.

And watching Terry take a truck full of dead branches and create a masterpiece in the middle of our boardroom table just filled me with all the feels. I am so proud of her and grateful that I'm her friend. That I can call her with a 'crafting help' message and I know she's got my back.


It could be argued that this centrepiece was a bit over-the-top considering we were eating pizza on plastic plates.

Pffft.
Go big.
Or go bigger.
With centerpieces and hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Saturday afternoon I went for a walk.
I turned left out of my mom's driveway and walked down into the dip before starting my trek up the hill.

There, at the bottom of the hill, soaking wet, in the middle of the sidewalk, was a year book from Johnston Heights Jr. Sec. It looked suspiciously like mine. So I picked it up.
Yup.
Mine.
Here.
In the middle of the sidewalk, a couple blocks from my mom's house.

I turned around and walked back to the house.
"You won't believe what I just found," I said to mom who was sitting in her chair in her front room.
We tossed around some ideas as to how it could've got there, but really, it was a mystery.
(I had looked at my box of memory things (baby books, year books, wedding album, etc) only 6 days earlier - and thought I'd moved the box from the garage to the basement. HOW had this annual end up out there in the wild?)

I went for a hill walk, thinking of scenarios, but just couldn't figure it out.

When I got back, an hour later, my mom called me back into her front parlour.
"Funny thing..." she started. "A couple days ago, I was driving to the mail box and I remember hearing a thump and thinking that something had fallen off my car. But I didn't stop or look..."

"Ahhhhh. That's it! I put my box of personal things on your trunk. I was going to move it downstairs. But I guess I forgot... "

"Yeah, that's seems right. It was definitely more than just one year book that fell off my car. It felt like a box..."

"Hmmm. That's a slice of my history, gone. Those annuals, the kids' baby books. Photographs taken by photographers. Wedding album. Notes and letters and journals from a past era... I won't get that back. I had pared it all down to the most important keepsakes and put it all in one box. I guess it's all gone. Can't revisit it again..."

"Well," mom said. "it's probably for the best."

~~~~~~~~~~~

On my drive to church, I let a few tears escape but planned to have a good wail later that night at the lake. The sermon was about joy. And the verse he referenced was that annoying one in James "Consider it all joy when trials and tribulations come your way ... blah blah blah... because ... something something character."

Was I having another character-building experience?
Really?
Am I so lacking in it, that I need another go at it?
What?
Is this a 'let it go' lesson?
Is this a 'in-light-of-eternity-your-box-of-memories-doesn't-matter' thing?
Did I not learn that lesson back in 2012 when another slice of my history was stolen when my house was robbed?

Oy vey.

World's slowest learner, here.

I just wanted to shake my fist at someone but there was no point.


After church I met Val for supper and we commiserated about the lost bits of our past. And she shared about her friend who's ex (dad to her kids) had committed suicide last week. And who's dad died of cancer a few days later.

YEAH OK
I need to shut up about my stuff.

We left the restaurant and went to the mall.
Where I bought $100 of Purdy's Chocolates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Sunday evening, I met Karm at Clearbrook MB at 6:15 pm.
We were there for their monthly Hymn Sing evening service. It started at 7, but everyone was there shortly after 6. In anticipation.

There were no seats. No parking spots.
CRAZY.

Can I just say something?
There is something very very Holy about being amongst a couple hundred very old Mennonites who have gathered to worship. They sing, loudly, with all their hearts, in harmony. And it is beautiful. And moving.

Seeing it was December, almost all the songs were Christmas carols. But then, after about half n hour, the choir and congregation sang "Here we are to worship"... and I looked around to the men and women around me, who were singing with conviction. They were worshipping.

And it occurred to me, that these folks, these singers, these men and women, all over 70, and likely in their 80's and 90's, lived through the war. And had stories similar to my Omi and everyone's Omi. They had to flee Russia by retreating with the Nazi's across Europe with NOTHING. Loved ones were executed, relatives were sent to the gulag, and those lucky to escape, ran with nothing.

And here they were. Worshipping God in this country where they raised their families and built their homes in peace.

And I bet a lot of them left a whole lot more behind than one curated keepsake memory box.

OK.
I won't whine about my lost Dear Jane letters.


Perspective is everything.


The final two songs of the evening undid me.
A duet by two men (one had just turned 90, the other was Brian Doerksen's dad, Harry, probably in his 80's)

You can watch it here:

https://livestream.com/clearbrookmbchurch/events/8926881/videos/199962923
They start singing at 1:25: 00

And after that?
The Hallelujah Chorus.

The director invited anyone who wanted to, to join the choir.
Watching dozens of peoples go forward, eagerly, to sing was heart-warming. And amazing. I didn't grow up around men who sang. Not my dad, my bro, my ex, my kids. So to watch men, enthusiastically participate in singing, was just awesome.

And hearing the men's voices? Was the best thing ever.
So much depth and weight and richness with their strong voices acting as a foundation for the music to dance on top of throughout the building.

So very grateful for my heritage.
So thankful that my grandparents sacrificed their things and risked their lives to come here.

I live a damn fine life because of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Dinners/evenings with so many friends this past week. (Julie on Wed, the Milestones crew on Thursday, Book Club group on Monday, Heather on Tuesday...) I am lucky/blessed/tired. :) Quality 'together time' is my love language, obvs.

2. Christmas cards. OH. MY. GOODNESS. I got three in the past 24 hours that were filled with so many kind/lovely/tear-inducing words. Gahhhh. My love language is defo words.

3. Was at my sister's, gettin my hair did, and while I'm sitting under a dryer with a hole-y shower cap on, and strands of hair dripping with a thick bleach solution, she brings me this:

A glass of water and frozen peanut butter balls.

I am so loved.

Food is definitely my love language.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shalom friends,
xo

Update

If you'll recall, I was having a bit of a melt down in early March due to unexpected hair loss.

It just so happened during that very same week, Danica was at an industry event for a product line designed for hair loss due to hormonal or seasonal changes.

She picked up a serum and some shampoo for me. I supplemented this with Vit B6 and Folic Acid. (Which I swallowed. I didn't massage this into my scalp.) Plus I added more salmon, almonds, flax, and yams to my diet.(This, too, I swallowed. I did not massage flax into my follicles.) (Just to be clear.) (You may love my results and want to know the details.... so I want to avoid all misunderstandings, I laying it out. In detail.)

HOLY COW do I ever have nice nails now.

Haha. A by-product of those vitamins and that food is strong fingernails.


I don't know what to do with them. So I had a manicure. Twice in the past 6 weeks. It's crazy I tell you.

(Do you know how hard it is to take a photo of your fingernails?)

Also, do you know how much noisier I am on my keyboard?

Do you know how many times a day I look at my hands and wonder who's they are?

Anyway.

Back to hair.

Some people might call that a part. I call it a linear bald spot. That was getting wider and longer.
My hair is especially sparse in the bang area.

ANYWAY.

The best part about the serum?
Is having a daughter-in-law apply it. Haha. SO glad she lives in the basement. I'll pre-arrange that she has time to help me, then I'll text her that I'm ready. I will be in my pajamas, out of the shower with wet hair, sitting on the top step of the landing (in the stairway to their basement space) and she'll massage the treatment into my scalp. BEST THREE MINUTES EVER.

And after that? ANOTHER GREAT FIVE MINUTES as my scalp tingles and cools and feels like it's sucking on a mint.

(I tried doing it myself, but the potion is liquid, like water, and it drips down my forehead and into my eye. I was worried I'd end up with a line of hair down the front of my face and have a really hairy eye ball. She took pity on me and offered to help.)

I see no evidence of new hair growth.
But my hair feels thicker, less limp, and I haven't noticed any further loss.

So, that's a win?

Ugh. Selfies are so awkward. How do people smile when taking a pic of their own face? That's just so weird.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Feeling feminine at the moment. Thankful for that.
2. That I live with my mom, who has people. I don't have to wash floors or pull weeds with these hands. Haha.
3. Having a live-in hair stylist who does late night treatments in pajamas. Seriously. It's just the best.


Peace out,
xo

Gettin Old

I've been irritable lately. And negative.
So I gave myself a time out.
I am at the lake thinking about things.

Turns out, after a bit of thought and some online research, my diagnosis is I'm getting old.
And these things (hair loss, impatience, lapses in memory, skin that doesn't heal well, teeth that are at the end of their life-cycle, bones that ache ...) these things are normal, and to be expected in women between the ages of 45 and 55.

There is no way to put a positive spin on that, other than to realize this was part of God's great, beautiful and perfect plan for us when He created our world. (Gag. Barf.) We would age. And our bodies would slowly fall apart. (But WHYYYY God? Surely there were other options available to You when designing us?)

I'm going bald.
Yes, that is probably an over-reaction to having hair fall out like there's a contest going on on my head, with the last one to leave being a rotten egg.

Hair. It was my thing.
For all of my life, that's been the constant.
I am blonde.
And I can could grow hair like a boss.

I do not have memorable eyes (I come from a long line of ancestors with small blue ones), my smile is not wide and full (hiding those also-inherited bad teeth) and my skin is a detailed parchment map showing the scars of acne (from my teen years) and the wrinkles of worry (from my kids' teen years). But by golly, I could effortlessly grow thick hair in my sleep. Without even trying.

Danica, bless her, has taken my situation seriously. She's found some serum and a shampoo to help. God knew what He was doing when He gave me a hair stylist for a daughter-in-law. (Although, I am skeptical. How can you bring new life into something that's old/dead. We will have a funeral for my follicles once I've gotten a handle on my grieving.)

And Julie, (my sisterstylist for 35 years) was at first, all "You've got SO much hair. Seriously. Stop worrying, you have enough hair for two peopl... oh wait. WHERE DID ALL YOUR HAIR GO? There's like, hardly any here... What're we gonna do about bangs? We may have to ... hmmm. Will it grow back? Good news is, you still have no grey..."


So, yeah. The hair thing and the irritable thing are what prompted me to take a few days off work to get a grip. Investigate. Research. Prepare. Chat with God about this new phase. Mourn the official passing of youth.
This stage I'm in? Sounds alot like "Mennonite at rest". Which is accurate.
Or "Taking a pause from men." Which is also a true statement. (Although, after 19 years, I'm not so sure I'd call it a pause.)

Regarding all my symptoms and signs of aging (listed above) - do you know what the #1 recommendation is to keep it at bay? Low fat/low carb diet and exercise.

Diet and exercise. Is the answer to everything.
Depressed? Eat less and move more.
Insomnia? Don't eat so much, and take a walk.
Getting old? Stop eating all the good foods and spend more time getting sweaty.
Losing your hair? Go on a diet and join a gym.

Sigh.

You can fight it, or you can embrace it.

I joined a gym.

And I'm at the lake, figuring out a food plan for the rest of my life next two weeks.
Eliminating sweets is where I'm starting; and I'm doing this in isolation because no one needs to be around this level of negativity.

Plus after doing some research, I found a list of foods/vitamins that are helpful in restoring hair. Some foods are kinda gross, but ones I will eat more of are almonds, salmon, eggs, sweet potatoes and spinach. Plus Vit B6 and Folic acid.

I'm not expecting a miracle.
I can't turn back the hands of time; but maybe I can slow down the impact its having on my head.

In my conversations with God, I just can't bring myself to ask Him to restore what once was. I have so many other miracle-requests, that this one feels vain and self-serving. I'd rather He spent time seeking out lost souls than my lost hair.

Regarding my impatience and irritability?
Sigh.
I do not want them to be a part of the new me.

I couldn't find a vitamin or a super-food that would heal me of grumpiness.

So, apologies in advance if I snark out at you. I don't mean to. The hormones (or lack thereof) made me do it.


Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Transitioning is hard; eventually this cold scalp will be the new normal and I'll stop obsessing.
2. Grateful for friends who've walked this path already and seem to have adjusted well enough.
3. Thankful for a week off. Sunshine would've been nice. But rain on the roof is OK.


Shalom,
xo