Of blueberries and bilingualism

While cleaning the kitchen tonight, I'm listening to Jacob Moon, and looking forward to sitting down afterwards to read this article, and eating these muffins, pictured below.


The mug is exactly my cup of tea, literally and figuratively. It came from my university days, when an amazing department head believed that academic prizes shouldn't just come in envelopes, and sought out local artisans to make gifts which would accompany the monies won. (Salut, Professeur Paré!) So, tonight, I'll use it as I do almost every day, and be grateful once again for my parents who put me in French Immersion. I may not talk about French or bilingualism on here often, but they're never far from my thoughts, especially as I try to teach my daughters the language I treasure. I'm also tutoring again, which is wonderful! (Hi, Sarah!) And starting next week, we (that being me and my English-speaking Hubby) are planning on attending the French-language service at our church in preparation for the church plant in Gatineau. I truly can't imagine my life without knowing and loving the French language. Hopefully, this kid will thank me some day for persisting in speaking it to her.

Beware the silent toddler

After playing in the basement for most of the morning, D decided to head upstairs around noon. I told her I'd be up in a bit, once M finished nursing. It had been eerily quiet above me and I made my way up to investigate.

First, I saw crumbs. This is not unheard of in my kitchen.


Then I noticed that the top of the cake caddy containing zucchini bundt was askew.


I lifted the lid to see this. Oh my word, I am so glad she stayed away from the knife.


And looked up to this face.


Thank goodness I had a baby in my arms who had to be transferred to her swing, because otherwise I would have been unable to hide my grin. Cheeky monkey. We did have a talk about the danger of knives, and the foolishness of having cake before lunch when Mommy says no. (It turns out that precludes you from having cake for dessert.)

From one leap year to the next

Last February 29th, my life was almost about as different as it gets. I was in my very first year of teaching, and Hubby and I were living in our very first house. We were months away from even thinking about starting a family. Dual income, no kids. My day would have consisted of packing a lunch, carpooling with my friend Sarah, heading to school, teaching my two grade 9 classes and my one grade 12 class, doing some marking/photocopying/prep, heading home, making dinner and who knows what I even did in the evening. Probably watched TV or knit. Oh, and we had a pickup truck and an Elantra.

Me and my friend Ads, hanging out at my old house in 2008. I had blond hair and Hubby (not pictured) still had glasses, not yet having had laser eye surgery. This is from the oldest photo folder I have on my computer, which I got in 2008.

Here we are in 2012. I haven't taught (in a formal, paid capacity) since September 2009, and while I miss the paycheque and my colleagues, I'm pretty happy with my new career. We've gone down to one income, and by God's grace, it's enough to support us, especially since we moved further out in the suburbs. I love our home and our neighbours. And the biggest change of all was becoming parents to our two precious daughters.

So what was my day like today? I woke up cuddling my four-month old, had a shower while Hubby changed the girls' diapers and got them dressed, went to W2W where I got to fellowship and learn about God's word along with about a hundred other women, drove home in our minivan (we still have the Elantra), had lunch, put my daughters down for naps, tidied up and decluttered the main level of the house a bit, made dinner, baked banana muffins with my eldest daughter, put away the girls' clean laundry, put the baby to bed, snuggled the toddler at her bedtime, cleaned the kitchen with Hubby, enjoyed a cup of tea and two muffins, watched a few minutes of TV (digital free-to-air, on a flat screen we were given) before the baby woke up, gave her another feed, and now I'm blogging.

My days are more challenging in some ways, but they feel more full, in a good way. When I was going out to work, that consumed so much of my day that I really only had a couple of hours in the evening to do anything. This is one of the things I love about staying home: we have time to do things. We can have lazy days at home, and we can have outings to the library, the museum, the park (well, not yet, but soon). We can bake, read, play, clean, learn. It's tough being on-call 24 hours a day, that's for sure. And it's hard to cope with a busy toddler and a fussy baby. Thank goodness for a supportive extended family, and my wonderful Hubby! Still, there's a lot to love about this season of life where quantity time is quality time.

I wonder where we'll be next leap year, 2016. (D will be 6 and M will be 4!!) Maybe I'll be back at work outside the home, maybe I'll be homeschooling, maybe we'll be done having kids, maybe we'll be in a different place. Wherever we are and whatever our family looks like, I hope that we're faithfully following God and loving each other.

You know it's a good meal when...

...you eat it twice in as many days. Exhibit A: hard-boiled eggs, and cut veggies with hummus. It turns out I like hummus; who knew? It's been my go-to lunch the past couple of days. One of the nicest things about: once you start the egg-boiling process, you usually have to wait about 20 minutes to eat, but this gives you something to do. Peel and chop the veggies, dip them in hummus and munch away until the timer goes.

Exhibit B: Shepherd's pie. This was another surprise. I always hated it growing up and until I got this recipe from my friend Erin, I had never made it before. Something about dry ground beef topped with mashed potatoes never appealed to me. Erin adds corn and BBQ sauce to the beef, and it makes such a difference! My mom told me that I would come to love shepherd's pie because it's easy, fast and hearty fare. I first made it the weeks my in-laws arrived (they are gone now, and we miss them terribly), and then again last night. Hubby and I ate it all up by lunchtime today.

[Not a meal, not even a shepherd, but very cute]

Make your own: it's highly adaptable, although (sorry) short on instructions!

1 lb ground beef
1 small onion, chopped
1 cup BBQ sauce
1 cup corn, cooked
4 potatoes or so
milk
butter

Preheat oven to 375
Brown the ground beef, add onions and soften.
Stir in BBQ sauce and cooked corn. Pour mixture into casserole dish.
Boil potatoes for about 20 minutes; drain, mash, and add milk and butter to desired consistency. Spread potatoes on top of beef mixture.
Bake for 30 minutes or so.

This freezes very well, but if you go this route be prepared for a longer cooking time: about 2 hours.

Post-script to my last entry: we rounded out the day by contracting a nasty stomach flu bug that made its way through all five adults in the house, although the girls were spared. Not the best end to the in-laws' visit. However, we're very grateful that they were there to help with the girls when we were too weak to get out of bed. Also not my favourite way to lose the remaining baby weight, but then neither was cutting out lactose.

[Hey, look who's almost 4 months old!]

A most Canadian day

Today has been the most stereotypically Canadian day ever, for me. It started with breakfast at Tim Horton's, a quick drive around Mont Tremblant, dog sledding at Montebello, taking a ferry across an iced-over lake, and pushing the car uphill when it got stuck on the icy incline (to be fair, that was my father-in-law and uncle). At our Timmy's stop in the morning, I translated our order from English to French. At the restaurant we stopped at on the way home from the cottage, I translated the entire lunch menu from French to English. I spoke both French and English with our dog sled driver.

(Yes, my mittens are polar bears. They keep me warm and they entertain D.)

The dog sledding was the coolest thing ever, and we picked the best day for it. Yesterday, Hubby had the chance to go with his mum, and they had an amazing time! It was more expensive than our excursion today, because it involved harnessing the dogs, doing some of the actual driving, going a further distance than we went, getting professional photos taken, and stopping for hot chocolate and cookies midway. This was up at Tremblant. Our version was just the ride in the sled over about 4 km, which took maybe 20 minutes or so. Uncle Paul, D and I were in the sled, and there were 9 dogs pulling us (the names I can remember: R&B, Disco, Astro, Sienna/Ciana, Jazz). D and I chatted about vitamins, where dogs pee as opposed to big girls and boys, and the differences between cats and dogs (chiefly, that dogs will pull you in a sled whereas cats will not). She was mesmerized by the experience. After I mentioned that the dogs were very good listeners, she gave them a thumbs-up and said "Good job, dogs!"

Crossing an icy lake on the ferry was pretty neat as well. The ice is broken up to make a path for the ferry, and not too far away we could see dozens of ice fishing huts. (It didn't seem especially wise to me, but then I'm not an ice fisher.)

Why I believe: an honest account

I got to thinking recently about why I believe in God. I’ve been noticing a lot of vehement anti-God things in social media and from various news outlets lately, and while I don’t want to get into any of that, I do want to explain (to anyone who’s interested in hearing) why a twenty-something girl in the twenty-first century subscribes to seemingly ancient, irrelevant beliefs. I don’t really have philosophical reasons for my belief in God, and I don’t know if many people could merely be talked into believing in Him anyway. I believe in God because I’ve experienced too much of Him in my life to believe anything else. Here’s what I mean.

For one thing, I have experienced God’s blessing in the form of my husband. Our whole relationship is a testimony to God’s orchestration; it was all planned, and not remotely coincidental. We never should have met, or started dating, or maintained a relationship, but here we are, ten years on and going strong.

We never should have met because he is from Australia, and I am from Canada. We did meet because his parents are diplomats, and he lived for a period of three years in the nation’s capital, where I happened to grow up. His parents came to the church where I have been going since I was four years old. They liked it so much that it became their home church, and Rob and I became friends, then boyfriend and girlfriend, then husband and wife.

We never should have started dating because Rob was growth hormone deficient. He was part of an experimental study in Australia on synthetic human growth hormone, during which he had daily injections of HGH from ages 5-15, and it worked. I never would have considered a relationship with him if he had been shorter than me (shallow thing that I am), but here we are, both six feet tall.

We never should have maintained a relationship because we were in a long distance relationship for two years, first between Canada and Australia, and then France and England. During that time we were immature and alternately impatient, clingy or emotionally distant, and yet we made it to the altar and beyond.

Because of Rob’s HGH treatments, we didn’t know whether we’d be able to have children. We had been married for just over four years when our daughter Daphne arrived, completely healthy. Her sister Maeve followed two years later, colicky but healthy, too. These girls are a tremendous blessing to me; I have always wanted to be a stay-at-home mother, and because of them, I am. Pregnancy and birth gave me even more reason to believe. My humble body, which I’ve at times despised or at least underappreciated, has been thus far able to bring two very big babies (9lbs 13 oz and 10 lbs, respectively) into the world.

I don’t believe simply because my life has gone well for me; to be honest, my life has been far from perfect, and those who know me well can attest to that. I have my own insecurities, fears, and struggles, and Rob and I have our frustrations and fights. In fact, I believe because of my own weakness and sinfulness. I have done, and continue to do, things that I know to be wrong. And while I may cringe at recalling them, I feel no guilt when I have confessed my sins to God and asked His forgiveness. He forgives me and takes away my guilt.

I believe because when I look around at creation in all its beauty and diversity, I know in my heart that it couldn’t just happen. It had to have been designed.

I believe because I have seen miracles in the lives of people I know well; people who have had terrible, debilitating things in their lives that should have destroyed them, and yet they are stronger in their faith in God than ever. It’s not an act, it’s not blind faith, and it’s not wishful thinking. It’s supernatural in that it makes no human sense.

I believe because I have sat under some amazing teaching that comes from ordinary people used by God in a powerful way. In particular, my pastor, Rick Reed, is able to explain God’s word in a way that is deeply personal, relevant, and practical. Through his teaching, I meet with God every Sunday.

I believe because I read and understand the word of God, and I know it to be true. It has convicted me of sin and motivated me to give my life over to God again and again. I believe because I have experienced answers to prayer, even though they’re not always the answers that I’ve wanted.

I believe because I have experienced God’s provision. By all accounts, my family and I shouldn’t be able to own a house and live on one income. And on many occasions (mostly when we were first married, and I was in school, and Rob wasn't a permanent resident so he wasn't allowed to work), we’ve had God provide for us when He prompted other people to give us what we need, such as money, gift cards for food, even a car.

I believe because I have seen God’s timing. One example among many: on an ordinary Sunday last spring, from the moment I woke up, I knew I was supposed to go and share the gospel with my grandpa. He had been sick for many years, and had outlived his doctors’ predicted life expectancies many times. I didn’t want to go; I get very emotional about matters of faith, and as a result I don’t always speak very clearly. But I went. It was the last lucid conversation I had with my grandpa, and when he died three weeks later, I knew for a fact that at least once in his life, he heard the good news of Jesus Christ and had a chance to respond. Now I want to share that same gospel with you, so that if you happen to still be reading this, you will definitely have heard the good news and had a chance to respond.

We are all sinners. You, me, and everyone we’ve ever met. It started when the first two created people, Adam and Eve, disobeyed God’s command. Since then, every person ever born has had a propensity towards evil. You don’t need to look much further than a young child (including my own) to see this: we don’t have to teach them to do what is wrong, but we do have to teach and reinforce what is right. The thing about sin (our selfish and immoral thoughts, words, actions and inactions) is that it separates us from God, who made us. There are no degrees of sin, by the way. No one sin is worse than another. Homosexuality is as much a sin as talking negatively about someone. Abortion is as much as sin as judging people. God doesn’t compare us to one another, but to Himself. He is so holy that he can’t even be around sin. In fact, sin requires a payment, in the form of death. In the Old Testament, when you sinned, something had to die; an innocent sacrifice had to take your place.

There’s only one person who has ever lived a completely innocent, sinless life, and the Bible tells us that it was Jesus. Not only did he live a perfect life by God’s standard, but He paid the debt that every one of us owed when He was killed. He showed Himself to be even more powerful than death itself when He raised Himself from the grave three days after His death. And if you believe that He paid for your sins, you get to claim His righteousness for yourself. God sees you as righteous, and you get all kinds of amazing things through that. You get forgiveness for your sins, and freedom from guilt. You understand the purpose for your life: to glorify him in what you do. This is what we were made for. You also get to live with Him in heaven forever after you die, and spend eternity the way you were meant to: bringing God the honour He deserves. We don’t deserve this, and we can’t earn it. It’s grace, a free gift to us from the God who loves us enough to send His Son to die for us.

Do you believe that you aren’t perfect? Do you believe that Jesus paid the price for you? It’s easy enough to understand that a child can become a follower of Christ, as I did when I was seven years old, and as I pray my children will do when they are old enough. I am so thankful that I was told about all this when I was young, and I can’t imagine living any other way.

Here’s a prayer you can offer up to God if you believe these things:

Dear God,

I know that I’m a sinner, and deserving only of death. I’m turning away from living only to please myself, and trusting in Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection as my only hope. I accept You as my Saviour and the Lord of my life. Please come into my heart and life today. Thank you for forgiving me and giving me eternal life.

Amen. [May it be so.]

Happy Australia Day!

As much as I would have enjoyed the irony of celebrating Australia Day at Ottawa U's Snow Festival (not to be confused with Winterlude), it was -18 with the windchill and my personal cut-off for spending time outdoors with babies happens to be -10. Instead, we went shopping, and decorated the cookies that we had baked the day before. Please note the lovely table decorated with a beach towel and a bunch of stuffed koalas. I believe this is the traditional way it's done. We also dressed in clothing that was either summery or purchased in Australia.

Like her new apron? So does she, to the point of wearing it on its own.

While we were out, the boys worked in the basement, which is looking spectacular and very nearly done. By boys, I mean Hubby, his dad, and his uncle. That's right, people, the in-laws are here and it is wonderful! Mealtimes have been going really well; so far I've served shepherd's pie (big thanks to Erin for her recipe which includes BBQ sauce, and is amazing), spinach & chickpeas with flatbread, and coming up tonight is beef stew. Lunches have been leftovers for the most part, or sandwiches. The boys have had fast food a couple of times. It's been going really well!

Last night's dinner was sausages (aka snags) with sauteed peppers and onions, and way too many egg noodles. Hannah came over and brought a Greek-style quinoa salad, which was well received. I was even able to eat the feta, and it pleased me to no end. We Skyped Tracy and Eug, Hubby's sister and brother-in-law in Oz, so it was fun to catch up with them. They're coming for a visit in March! Eug can't wait to see snow.


Can you identify the Australian animals hidden under all that green and gold icing? We've got kangaroos, kookaburras, koalas, echidnas (echidnae?), playpuses (platypi?), and frill-necked lizards. And I've clearly got to work on pluralizing unfamiliar nouns.