May Memories

(I'm writing this for me. You can read it if you want, but mostly this blog has become a place where I post my favorite pics and people-moments, so I don't forget them. I lost my original May post, (5 hours of writing wasn't automatically autosaved), so I'm gonna put an abbreviated version here.)

Second Half of May, 2019

At work:

I have whined about our lack of an HR department only because we haven't had one exactly when I needed us to have one. One of my senior designers was taking a leave of absence for a year (to go on an exciting adventure) so I needed to find a replacement. (Well, OK, God needed to let me know who He had planned to be R's replacement. My job was to hear Him and see what He had in mind. But still. A HR person would've been helpful.)

I was pushed outside my comfort zone a number of times as I reviewed resumes, arranged/led interviews, looked over design tests, did a pre-interview screening call as well as an eventual post-interview reference call.

Living outside one's comfort zone is exhausting.

ANYWAY, despite my lack of experience, it was apparent that God had a lovely, highly skilled, very experienced young woman in mind for our lil creative department. And as per usual, His timing was very last minute. Despite have two months to find and fill the position, I knew, from past prayer requests, He'd answer on the last day. Such was the case again this time.

(To be completely honest, there were moments during the process that I found to be quite affirming. I know I'm in the position I'm in, at the organization I'm at, because He can use me and grow me here.)

So, on the Friday of the Maylong, I sent a contract to our candidate offering her a one-year position. And then I went out for a sushi dinner to catch up with a couple of designers from a few years ago:

I have worked with the mostest wonderful people; I love evenings like this.

After dinner, I drove Inca home to Vancouver, then drove up to Cultus for the weekend. Clint joined me on Saturday, Max came up on Sunday afternoon and Sean dropped by on Sunday night:

On Tuesday, she emailed me to let me know she was accepting the position. When I announced it during the our morning staff gathering, they all cheered. I grabbed my phone and asked them to cheer AGAIN so I could capture the joy. I sent the pic to Shu and told her we were excited for her to join us.

On Wednesday the creative team wished Cathy a happy birthday by devouring the chocolate mocha cheesecake that Amy baked

And on Friday, we celebrated with R as he finished up his last day with us for a year.

As is typical when I'm left in charge of planning a meal, pizza had been ordered.

I had asked everyone if they wanted to contribute to a coffee, cab ride, can of beans fund (so he'd have some local currency when he got settled in his new digs)... and was delighted that we were able to send him off with our prayers, our love and a fistful of Shekels.

It was a full week of saying Goodbye, Happy Birthday and YAY - We're Looking Forward to Working With You. The following week I had another one of those Monday morning Management Team Meetings as well as hosting two luncheons in the Boardroom where we heard Ted Cunningham talk about being a good listener. If you ever get a chance to watch/hear him speak - DO IT. He is wise and entertaining....

I ended the week watching Unplanned. A movie about the Abby Johnson story. She was the director of a Planned Parenthood Facility in Texas for 8 years (and she volunteered for 3 years before that.) She was a Baptist Christian who attended church faithfully on Sundays, and ran a clinic that performed a record-breaking amount of abortions on Saturday. It wasn't until, AFTER 8 YEARS, she actually assisted an abortion (and was holding the wand of the ultrasound, watching onscreen as the instrument dismembered then vacuumed out the body parts), that she realized what was actually happening. One minute there was a baby, with it's beating heart, sucking it's thumb and wiggling it's toes, and the next minute limbs were being ripped off and then there was nothing. A big black hole on the screen.

Abby, herself had had two abortions; the chemical kind. Where you take the abortion pill and 'the contents of your uterus is gently removed'. It was horrific. A blood bath.

OY.
OY.
OY.
THIS WAS NOT AN EASY MOVIE TO WATCH.

Every single feel in my body was reacting.
I felt nauseous for hours afterward.

I ache for the women who believe they have no other option. That they are too alone, too poor, too tired, too old, too young, too busy, too unable to carry their baby to term. I ache for their desperation; their belief that this pregnancy will result in a child that will ruin their lives.

Women. Why aren't we coming alongside each other? Why aren't we saying, "I'm here. And I'll stay here. Babysitting, helping with housing, praying, making meals, bringing clothes, arranging playdates. I'll be an auntie when this little one becomes a teen and needs a safe place to hang out. Needs an adult to talk to. Needs a friend. I am here to rub your back and hold your hand. You. Are. Not. Alone."

Men. If you don't want the women you are having sex with to have your baby, GET A FRIGGIN VASECTOMY. If you don't want to have a child, THEN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU HAVE SEX. Come on already. Be responsible.

The abortion debate is not going to end any time soon. The month of May was filled with conversations, laws, demonstrations, information. The month of May was filled with so much anger. Women believing no man has the right to say anything about her body or what she does with it. Law Makers saying a baby can be aborted right up until just before birth, to other lawmakers saying anything with a heart-beat cannot be aborted. To people who speak for the unborn babies; saying they have the right to life.

My heart was sad all month. It feels like we, as a people, care more about baby seals than we do for unborn babies. We care more about chicken farming practices than we do about women in crisis.

I don't think we should be proud of the fact that more black babies were aborted than born in New York last year. That stat is an indication of so many things. One of them being that black momma's are in situations that doesn't allow them to rejoice when they find out they're pregnant. I think THAT might be the situation we need to address.

The debate will continue. It's not over yet. Roe vs Wade will be re-visited. We need to bring wisdom and compassion to the conversation. God help us.

At home:

The second half of May was also busy with not-work things. Back in November of 2018, I had a mammogram that detected a suspicious cluster of cells. I was to get retested in the Spring. In May I felt a lump while showering, so I concluded that my suspicious cluster had decided to grow itself into a gumball-sized bump (which I named Bob.) I made an appointment for a mammogram and blood tests right after Mother's Day, and knowing he'd want to chat with me about things, an appointment to see my doc that week as well.

The mammogram was painful this time ("Sorry!", the technician said, "That's pretty big lump, and I've got to squish it good so we can get a look...") and my doctor inflicted some pain as well. I have/had a thing on my elbow that just wasn't healing so he used that stuff that comes in a huge canister and froze it. Froze it good. "Let me know when you can't handle the pain," he warned. "Still OK?" "Can you handle it a bit longer?" "You're sure you're OK?" "Wow, you have a high pain threshold." "OK just a few seconds longer..."

It has taken 3 weeks, but it's finally all healed. My elbow looks lovely now. Totally worth it.

ANYWAY, back to Bob. As we (the technician, my doc and me) suspected, I'd need more imaging done, so I was called in for an emergency screening the next day. The radiologist required numerous pics from various angles, diagnosing each x-ray before requesting an additional set. Back n forth between the machine room and the change room, multiple times. Not surprising this resulted in an emergency ultrasound (for a better look) which happened the same day. (Can I mention that breast ultrasounds are now my favorite type of ultrasound. No need to drink a gallon of water. The wand remains external. You can lie comfortably on your back. And it's not a terrible sensation. I coulda stayed there, in that darkened room with pleasant music playing for a few hours.)

When I was done, I went back to work and waited for my doc to call me. As anticipated, I needed to see him the following day to talk about 'next steps'. Which was a consultation with a specialist at the breast (cancer) clinic. I asked if I could take all the paperwork over to the Jimmy Pattison Surgical Centre myself, (I absolutely do not trust the current system of faxing everything. In 2017 it took months for those fax machines to squeal at each other) which I did the following morning.

A few days later, an appointment was set up for me to see The Boob Guy on May 30, the day before I left for Palm Springs. He was young. Asian. Wore a showy suit. And had dyed his styled hair white. His roots were coming in, and he flipped his long-on-one side locks back as he entered the room. He looked about 17 years old.

He talked to me about the cluster of cells that had grown in size, significantly, since December. I said, 'Yeah, I know. I can feel it." He seemed surprised by that. "Where? You can feel it?" So I rubbed my fingers across my boob and said, "Yeah, here. I've named him Bob."

"But that's at 11 o'clock, the lump we're keeping an eye on is at 9 o'clock, and deep within your tissue." He had me lie down and he did a 1.2 second examination. "You're right. That is quite notice-able."

It was decided that I would need a biopsy. On both sites. Soon. (I'd named the growing, hidden cluster of cells Betty.)

I left the office with pamphlets about bumps and lumps and biopsies. All the material they gave me suggested that in 94% of cases, it ends up being nothing. So I decided to be 94% not worried. There was nothing to be gained by worrying anyways.

If I allowed myself to be worried/scared just 6%, that was about an hour a day. Which seemed excessive. AN HOUR. TO WORRY ABOUT ONE SPECIFIC THING? I decided to worry 1%. Which was about, what? 20 minutes? Maybe? Whatevs. Twenty minutes a day was it. I'd wonder what it'd be like to have them removed. Could I have my belly fat relocated up a few inches? Wondered what it'd be like to have my hair fall out. WHO AM I WITHOUT HAIR? Would I still feel like a woman? Would I still be Jane? Wondered what it'd be like to be told, 'you're dying'. Would it hurt? I'm OK being dead; I just don't want it to be in pain.

The next day I flew to Palm Springs.

While in California, they called with a date for my biopsy; I was to go in the following day. Hahaha. As if. So they suggested a few more dates and we finally settled on June 13. (Which was a few days ago. I've had the procedure; the team (two nurses and a doctor) were professional, friendly and informative. Will spare you the details and jump to the conclusion because ...

... apparently I'm like a kid when it comes to story-telling...

I'm fine.
Betty was a cluster of water-filled cysts and Bob was an old bruise/injury filled with blood and scar tissue. They biopsied both sites and he's certain everything is benign. "Great results from today's procedure" is how he put it.

I drove home from my appointment, stitched up and double frozen. (Frozen from the needle that froze me. And frozen from the icepack taped to my boob.) I took two Advil (which, if I HAD READ THE INSTRUCTIONS THEY SUPPLIED, would have noted that Advil is exactly NOT what I should have taken) (oh wells) and slept for the rest of the afternoon on the deck. It is exhausting being brave. It takes alot of brain work trying not to think about something for more than 20 minutes a day. It is overwhelming getting fantastic news. I was just so tired, yo. And grateful.

I knew that not all of u who were sitting in that waiting room in Corridor 5 were going to go home with good news. So as I dozed in and out of sleep, I prayed for those women who'd be getting hard news that day. Hoping they'd have friends and family to walk alongside them. Hoping the cancer cells got caught early. Hoping they weren't undone by their diagnosis.

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

A N Y w a y s ... the tail end of May also included some fun evening walks n talks. I didn't make it to the gym once, (which was obvious when my blood sugar counts came back. I really need to figure out a way to include getting out of breath by working my body hard in such a way that is fun and not time consuming) because I was out n about with friends doing things that filled my soul with happy.

I spent a couple evenings with friends at Kits. Just watching the sun set and eating snacks...

... talking about our jobs, our kids, our grandkids,

... our struggles, our highs, our lows,

our gardens, the books we've read, the sermons we've heard,

the dates we've been on, the brokeness of our hearts,

we talked about our moms. One friend mentioned how much her mom had grown and improved as a person in her later years. "The difference between who she was at 50 and who she became at 80 is inspiring. Despite multiple debilitating health issues, widowhood, financial struggles and other difficulties, she was generous, selfless, committed to helping others, baked and prayed for her neighbours, welcomed any and everyone into the community, had a heart for Indo-Canadians, served in her church, volunteered 3 times a week, made an effort to have a unique relationship with each member of her family, including in-laws, children-in-laws, grandchildren and grandchildren-in-laws. Every single person in her life was loved well. Her reach extended FAR past her family and deep into her community."

I hope, someday, my kids will be able to say the same things about me. That I ended better than I started. That I not only loved them well, but that I gave a shit about everyone God placed in my path.


In addition to beach sits, I also did a few seawall walks.

Where I caught Pokemon, took some pics,

appreciated the diversity in floral textures and colours,

and shapes and scents.

I love this city.

After walking to Granville Island we took the Aquabus back to Science World.

You should totally do it some time.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. I get to keep my boobs.
2. Ultrasound machines.
3. Spring evenings.
4. The west coast.
5. Smart people.
6. My job.
7. My team.
8. My fam.
9. My camera.
10. My bed.

Peace,
xo

June. So far.

On Friday, May 31, I picked up my twenty-year-old cousin (whom I hadn't seen in 18 years) and her friend, Tristan, (whom I'd never never met before), and headed to the Bellingham Airport.

Yes, I was traveling with strangers who were decades younger than me. Yes, I may have been a bit concerned about conversation topics; WHAT would we talk about during this very long travel day? And ME. I'm old, fat and wrinkled. How would they feel being saddled with a senior citizen on their quick trip to Palm Springs? I was maybe a teensy bit nervous about trying to be 'cool'. In our little party of 3, I was the minority.

As we make our way out of White Rock, we make friendly small talk. And by the time we merge onto Hwy 99, I'm telling them about that time in 2011, when the kids and I ditch my truck at the side of the road and run to the border in order to catch our flight ... Raquel asks detailed questions, like, what happened to your truck? How did you get to the airport from the border? How much did it cost?

Two seconds after merging onto the 99, we stop moving.
"Oh oh", Raquel says. "This is not good."
I rarely enter the States at the Peace Arch crossing so I'm not sure how serious her "Oh oh" is.
"How far away are we from the border?" I ask.
"Ten thousand miles," was her response. (It probably wasn't what she said, but that's what I heard.)
"Uhhhh," I sigh.

The two 'kids' are googling and texting. They're looking for information (2 hour delay at this crossing) and options (90 minute delay at the truck crossing) and advising Julie in Palm Springs of our situation.

Julie is optimistic that even with a 90 - 120 minute delay, we'll still make our flight.
So we sit and wait.
Thirty minutes later we haven't moved an inch.
I am doubtful.

And then we proceed forward ten car lengths and are filled with cautious joy.
"Even if we miss this flight, we can catch the next one, right?" Raquel suggests.
"Allegiant flies to Palm Springs twice a week. The next flight is on Monday afternoon. We really have to catch this one..." I say.

We sit and wait.

"Uh, Jane. That thing? About parking and running? Uh, how does that work again?"
"Shit. I'm going to do it AGAIN? What the heck? OY."
I think it through in my mind, then ask Siri to call Clint. While Siri is making the connection, I'm driving along the shoulder looking for a safe place to park my truck. All the side roads are closed and the one closest to the border has construction all over it. I turn into the provincial park and find a parking spot, all the while letting Clint know what I'm about to do, and my need for him to find someone to move my truck before dusk.

"I'll look after it, mom. Just leave the keys under the seat."

(I have never felt so loved. And so not-judged.)

"OK. Grab your stuff, we're going to walk south." I say to my wide-eyed travel mates.
They each have mostly empty backpacks. I have a suitcase on wheels and a large travel bag. I am wearing flip flops and too many clothes. I am 8 years older than I was the last time I did this.

We hurriedly walked alongside the waiting-in-line vehicles (which are not moving) (WE SO MADE THE RIGHT DECISION), them, with their young legs and minimal luggage, me with my rolly suitcase and bulging travel bag (I had FOUR large hardcover books along. And Max's camera. And my laptop. And stuff. And things. It was 30 degrees outside and I was sweating and my calves were singing and I am really too old for this shit.)

We cross 172 lanes of not-moving cars and make our way to the building, getting yelled at by border guards along the way. You'd think they'd never seen pedestrians cross a border before.

Once inside, the kids got nervous and encouraged me to go first. I explained we were pedestrian crossers.
"Someone dropped you off?" he asked.
"Uh, no. We parked the truck at the Provincial Park. My son will pick it up later."
"Why would you do that?"
"We have a flight to catch, and the line up just wasn't moving..."
"What time's your flight?"
" 2-ish."
He nods.
"So what's next?"
"We'll walk across and call a cab."
"I'd recommend Uber."
"Ahhh. I don't have Uber."
He looks at Raquel and Tristan.
They shrug.
I hand my phone to Tristan, a lad a met an hour ago, and ask him to download the app for me while I finish up with the official.
He's finished scanning our passports then says, "Take this orange paper to the hut over there. Then there's a path that will take you around the freeway to a cafe in Blaine. That's a good spot to be picked up. Good luck."

If I'm walking down a path blah blah blah, I'm not doing it in flip flops.
I find a place to sit, rummage through my things to find my runners and start changing my footwear there inside the border building. HOW OLD AM I?

Meanwhile, Tristan is asking for my phone password, my email, my email password, my Visa number, my address, my birthdate, my weight, my height, what drugs I'm on ... SO much info to get set up on Uber. As we're walking towards the hut, and then along the path, he continues to set up the app, and then proceeds to request a ride.

We wait for 12 minutes in Blaine, at the side of the road, in front of the cafe for our ride. (A tiny KIA with a trunk that doesn't open.) We squish in, I make small talk with another stranger, and we get dropped off at the airport just as they're doing the pre-boarding call.

I slept most of the flight.
With my mouth open.

And before you know it, there we were. In (one of ) my (seemingly many) happy places.
Having a mexican dinner on the main drag in Palm Springs.

And then?

Home; via a sexy ride.
Convertible Mustangs are da bomb.

Everyone who was not me changed into bathing suits.

Tristan didn't have anything suitable, so he borrowed something left behind by someone, some time ago. He was a good sport about it.

The following day (Saturday, June 1), Julie got up at 6:30 to go hiking.
I did not.

The day was mostly all about reading, tanning, dipping, and drinking gallons of water.

In the evening we played Crazy 8's with child-appropriate-not cards ...

and this high score of 97 does not mean I won.
The understanding was 'first person to 100 points has to make supper'... but seeing it was my birthday, we quit before anyone officially got to 100. And they made supper for me.

And I took pics of them cooking for me:

Meals ALWAYS taste better when they're prepared by someone else's hands, eaten on a patio, at 8 pm, with good company.

Thanks, Julie, Raquel and Tristan for making this birthday meal so delicious and memorable.

The rest of the weekend was wonderfully relaxing.
The kids are both drama students, so the following day, they read/did/memorized lines:

While Julie and I tanned.

It was 105 degrees.

And on Monday, the three of them went home to Canada:

And with that, I was on my own for the rest of the week.
My gift to myself.
Four nights in the desert to read, think, sleep, pray, eat, write, tan, flop, float and go for long drives.

Driving a convertible is exciting and free-ing and wonderful, but

it also had me feeling awfully vulnerable in a country known for it's road rage and gun ownership.

I never watch the news. Never.
But I'd watched it one night in Palm Springs. The top story was about a middle-aged blonde woman who'd been missing for three days. Her body was found in a water reservoir and they were suspecting foul play.

Every time I stopped at an intersection I tensed up. I felt so very exposed and available. That guy in the passenger seat beside me, could hop out of the truck and smack my head. The guy on the other side could reach right in and grab my camera. My purse. My life.

I hate feeling that way.
Afraid.
Worried.
Anxious.

I was in MY HAPPY PLACE. There shouldn't be room for fear in my happy heart.

I drove til the colours left the sky and the stars popped out.
I drove until I felt safe again.

I drove until 9 pm.
Then did something I've never done.
Ever.
In my life.
I skinny dipped.


Livin on the edge.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning I woke up and grabbed my phone to check the time.
10 am
Perfect.
I had six hours to wash my bedding/remake my bed, clean the bathroom, clean the kitchen, take out the garbage/recycling, get the mail, deal with the pool toys/chairs, repack my suitcase, shower/do hair, arrange an Uber ride to the PS airport and figure out how I was getting home from the Bellingham airport.

While still lazing about in bed, I checked Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Emails ... and read something that caused my heart to pound extra fast and super hard and made my body overheat. God was saying 'no' to something I'd been praying about. And He was letting me know, very clearly, on my last day in Palm Springs.

I re-read the message a hundred million gazillion times, then let myself cry.

"Get it all out woman. You've got six hours to grieve and wail and carry on and then you've got to get your shit together. By 4 pm, you better be over the worst of this. By 4 pm when your Uber driver arrives, you are going to be smiling and relaxed and friendly. So go for it. You can cry long and hard."

And I did. I stripped the bed and could hardly breathe I was sobbing so deeply. I loaded the dishwasher and blew my nose about a million times. I got into the pool to cool down and added ten gallons of tears to the (already) salt-water filled pool. I chatted with God for six straight hours.

"So. It's no? Now what? Have I wasted three years praying about this? Three years of wondering? Hoping? Dreaming? WHAT THE HELL, GOD? OK. These are things I know to be true: 1. You are good. 2. You love me. 3. You can do anything. (Well, any except make someone love you. Or make someone love me.) 4. You are GOD. 5. You are creative. 6. You have a plan. 7. You have a plan for ME. 8. It's a plan for good and not for evil. 9. You are saying no because you can see the big picture.  10. You are more concerned with my holiness than my happiness. 11. You are saying no because it's not good for me, or anyone else. 12. How am I getting home from the airport? Another Uber ride to the border, walk across and then a cab home from there? FINE. 13. I'm aching and hurting right now and so very sad. 14. This is the third NO from you in the past 20 years and I'm a little sick of it. 15. Ultimately, I pray that Your will be done. If this is Your will, so be it.  16. I don't want to waste hours and days or the summer months being bitter or angry or confused by this. There must be a lesson in here somewhere. Please show me what it is so I can learn it quickly and move on. Give me the insight and wisdom I need to see clearly. By July 1, please. 17. Could you give me a new dream? One that will have a more favorable outcome? 18. SHIT THIS HURTS. And I feel so stupid for talking to You about this for THREE BLOODY YEARS. 19. Oh, Val is going to pick me up from the airport. Ahhhh, well. Thank you. Yeah, that's perfect. Just lovely. Thank you. 20. I'm still aching in my heart. But I know You are good. And I know the measure of the good you're doing in my life ISN'T how I'm feeling about it. My feelings are an unreliable source of information. So I will rely on facts that my brain knows to be true. Your character is dependable. And I will stop crying in the next three hours and just trust in You."


And then?
Before the Oscar the Uber guy picked me up, I drove over to a gas station to put some gas in the car and throw my 2016 - 2017 prayer journal in a garbage can.

And when I got to the airport and passed through security, I threw my 2018 - 2019 one in the  bathroom garbage can.

"Yes" answers to prayers make for great stories. "No" answers do not. Reading through those journals just made my heart hurt, so I got rid of them.

And by the time Val picked me up from the airport with a box of chocolates and a hug, I was back in charge of my emotions.

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

THREE TIMES before the day was done I randomly heard the Green Day song, "Time of Your Life".



And it felt a bit like a gift.
The past three years really have been lovely. I have memories and photographs and still frames and cards and and and maybe some wisdom about a few things. I know this song is typically associated with graduations, but it just feels like it's gonna be my summer theme song.

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

Saturday evening at church the message was based on Habukkuk. RANDOM choice of scripture, yes?

These were the notes:

1. Can we ask God questions? Can we complain to Him?
YES. The Bible is filled with examples of people lamenting/whining to Him about their circumstances, His answers/non-answers to prayer, their unmet needs. He is GOD, He can handle whatever we are grumbling about. He invites the conversation.

2. What is the cause of our questions? WHY do we question Him? 
We do this because we are troubled by the gaps between our expectation of God and our experiences with God.

• We have misguided expectations of God. We think of Him as a divine butler or a genie in a lamp. All we need to do is ask nicely and He will answer. If not, He must not be real, or capable or interested. 
• We have misinterpreted experiences with God. We make drastic conclusions based on our feeling IN THE MOMENT. We need to remember that we have a limited vantage point; we mustn't get caught in a moment but learn to wait and see. 

3. What should we do after we ask God our big questions? 

(Most people who've walked away from their faith do so because they have unmet expectations. They want those (good, noble, helpful) things they've prayed for, NOW.) Habakkuk exclaims that he is going to WATCH and WAIT. He has burning questions. He is disappointed and angry. And hurt. And confused. But He is going to remind himself of God's character and He Will Wait. Because he knows, (we all know) that God does great things in the midst of hard times.

Hahahaha.

I swear. Sometimes, sermons are written and spoken JUST FOR ME. 

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

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Days in the desert.
2. Weekends in the (Fraser)Valley
3. Answered prayers. Even if the answer is no.

xo