Day 2, Part 2 - Indian Head

The grain elevator turned tea house and collectibles shop in Indian Head, SK.  We pulled into the parking lot for two reasons... (1) the need to make a rad spontaneous stop, and (2) I'm pretty sure either Sarah or I needed to dispose of the excessive amounts of tea we drank throughout the trip.

I apologize for not taking pictures of what we found inside.  It was AMAZING!  (I over-dramaticize for my own sake... not really caring if it annoys you.)  An eclectic mix of new and old, beautiful and ugly, relics and cheap trinkets.  A pair of rabbit fur mittens for ten dollars and a legit muskrat fur hat for twenty (and no tax - it's on the reserve).  Cookbooks from the oldest Mennonite families around.  Pottery and tea cups (Kirby - your dog mug too!).  Clothing of every variety.  Big phat rings and butterfly broaches.  The lady in charge said that four sisters just opened the place after collecting items for about twenty-five years.  Eich-a-rumba!  That's a long time...  She was warm and talkative, and within a few minutes, I was convinced that I'd best get a B&B in Indian Head next time I need a place to sleep en route.

With that confirmed, and our loot in hand, Sarah and I departed for the last leg of the trip.  Listened to music, sucked the chocolate off of chocolate covered goji berries just to find out what goji berries look like, compared our big phat rings, saw evidence of my family's vast mennonite influence (aka a Bartel truck), and contemplated the ridiculous names chosen for small Saskatchewan towns (Piapot... anyone?).

The Goji Game

Dark chocolate covered Goji berries.

Berries of comparable size selected for contest.

Rules:

1.  Be the first to suck all of the chocolate off the Goji berry.

2.  No chewing allowed.

Game face.

Moment of triumph!

Sad loss... it's okay, you can try again next time, Sarah.

GOJI!

Having now proved how ridiculous I am... I will now move onto some other venture (like my homework).

Roadtrip Day 2 - Dyer Straits

After sleeping on an extraordinarily comfortable bed and eating a delish, but not extraordinary breakfast at the Dragonsnest B&B in Regina, SK, Sarah and I set out for our second day of travel toward the wintery land of Manitoba.  Not too many miles down the road, we noted a sign that said Dyer Straits... apparently one of those hole-in-the-ground places in SK.  Makes you wonder what story prompted the naming of that small place.  Drove straight through, didn't stop for fear that we'd actually end up in dire straits.  Called home and told her we were in Dyer Straits, and enjoyed the joke for thirty seconds before breaking down and telling her that we were safe, enjoying the drive, with no road bumps on the horizon.  A few minutes later, I checked my rearview and noted that the trunk had popped open of its own accord.  Dang!  How long had that been?  Stopped.  Checked the contents - none appeared to be missing - closed the trunk and continued on our merry way, thankful to have evaded any dire circumstances.  Next stop... Indian Head.

Self-made or Society-made?

My blogs have been blessed by a Brobdingnagian proportion of brevity lately, due in large part to my present preoccupation with re-engaging with my latent academic capabilities.  That is, I'm learning to think and act like a student again.  Did you know that the average secondary school student learns 5000 new words every year?  I learned that today... and need to hit the books again in a moment, but in the meantime, wanted to drop some thoughts.

Perhaps my most interesting class is the Sociology of Marriage and Family.  We have been tracing the history of marriage and family, both in the context of the Christian church as well as in the secular realm, and the fact of my bias has been clearly exposed over and over again as we discuss the meaning of our social constructions of "biblical marriage", what is meant when people talk about "traditional family values", and the ways that the Church, in past centuries, defined marital norms.  The reality, if I am to believe the words of my prof (and she backs it up very well!), is that we define marriage and family by a social construct (translate: an image/definition/reality created by the ideas of our society - the picture at left is an illustration of one social construct of marriage... a picture nearer to many people's reality is below - thanks to ppl with sweet pics for the images) that cannot be called Biblical.  Though this does not mean that our ideas about marriage and family are wrong, it does mean that we must reevaluate our views and choose how we will live.  Very provocative thought, yet one that has potential to be very freeing.  More on that later.  Sometime when I'm studying for the Soc. of Marriage & Family, I'll write more.  In the meantime... back to the books, starting with Adolescent development...

Did you know that the concept of adolescence is also a social construct?  Today, almost every culture in the world acknowledges some sort of period of transition from childhood into adulthood, recognizing the biological and psychological development that occurs during this time.  But it was first written about by Stanley Hall in 1904, and has since become part of the very fabric of how our society thinks and behaves.  Until that time, Western culture did not recognize a period of transition between childhood and adulthood... hmmm.

Makes you wonder how many of our personal beliefs and thoughts we can take credit for, and how many are profoundly shaped by the society in which we exist.  Are we self-made people?  I thought not - at least on a spiritual level.  Though I confess the arrogance of thinking that I have independent views of society, politics, economy, etc.  An arrogance that may not survive the semester.  Self-made?  Society-made?  I like neither option.  Anyone have a more hopeful option?

Thoughts?  Objections?  Those are a lot of big words.  Sorry.  I'm just practising on you.

Well, well, well.  What to say?  ~sniff~  ~tear, tear~  ~sniff~

It all started when we drove into Dyer Straights.



more to come...

swipe swipe SNAP!

I love Christmas.  For me, the mention of Christmas conjures up the smell of hot apple cider and fresh Christmas baking around the fireplace, a cold nose from Christmas tree hunting in -35 degree weather, Dutch Blitz and 1000 peice puzzles.  But I know that for some people, Christmas doesn't have all the warm fuzzies attached.  For some people, it's all about dodging the purse-swinging lady on the escalater as you compete for the last Cabbage Patch doll on the shelf.  It's about stretching the limit on your credit card for the grumpy, thankless children who you'd love to send back to school two weeks early.  The spirit of the season could sometimes better be described as stressed out, frazzled, hassled, beleagured... etc.

.

Take the gas station cashier as an example.  After putting thirty-and-some litres in my tank last week, I handed my neglected credit card to the man behind the cash register.  (I say neglected because as a student heading back to school, my credit card has spent a lot of time in the wallet and is only invited out for necessary purchases... there's no way I was over my limit.)  The cashier swiped it once.  No luck.  He swiped it twice.  No luck.  He looked at the uncooperative Mastercard with a look of disgust and frustration that would cause even the most heroic credit card to tremble in terror, and snapped the poor card in half.  Then he gave me a conciliatory look and held my traumatized credit card out to me with a hint of uncertainty, "My machine is no good and your card was damaged, so it broke."  Uh... okay.  Merry Christmas?  I couldn't do much except hand over my fearful-for-a-good-reason debit card and hope the Snapper didn't go serial on me.

.

I hope your Christmas was a merry one; that you've found a rest stop and pulled out of the rat race.  But if you've reached the end of your sanity and are on the edge of your own personal SNAP! then consider my personal favorite when it comes to de-stressors: find a snowglobe with an idyllic winter scene.  Take it out back.  Pick up your hammer...

And stay away from my credit card.

jenni is...

trying really really really hard to focus.  on finishing paperwork.  and documenting all the shenanigans (yes... shenanigans) that go on at the youth shelter on any given day.  my shift began at 1100... and being a good employee i was here at 1045 (today... yesterday i was not such a good employee and was late).  this is the first moment since 1045 that i have stepped out of crisis mode... taken a deep breath... and reminded myself that it's all going to turn out okay in the end.  (although no doubt okay for some of these kids, isn't what i'd actually call okay).  now i get to tackle the paperwork.  according to my calculations, i spend approximately 3 minutes documenting each minute that i spend in significant interaction with a youth.  [speaking of significant interaction... i would like to mention that one of my fave kids called me G today.  it's been a long time since someone has called me G.  made my heart warm inside.]  back on track after a minor rabbit trail.  so by my calculations, i should finish paperwork right around 2300... which is when my shift ends.  that is... if the kids stay out of crisis mode, and no additional crises (plural) requiring additional documentation occur.

get back to work, G... the day isn't over yet, but your break is.

junkyard Art

If any of you has stared into the abyss that is your own heart, realizing how black, broken, hopeless, and hurting it is, then this is for you.  If you have questioned God's grace for the places of shame and despair that exist in your personal Mess, then your thoughts may mirror what I've written.  Thanks for sharing in this piece of my journey.

my life is messy.

i struggle.

i mess up.

i hurt people.

i get hurt.

i carry my own baggage.

and sometimes the baggage of others.

i'm ugly inside.

if only you knew

every piece of the pie

you'd throw the whole thing back in my face.

so i've carefully divided it up.

entrusted small pieces

of the mess

to a handful of people

to test their response.

trembling inside,

i recoil and withdraw

until i know if their reaction will be rejection.

i'm a mess and i know it.

but they know only a part.

if you knew, would you love me?

if you knew, would you accept me?

if you knew, would you embrace me?

would you call me sister, and friend?

i'm a mess, Lord,

through and through

i surrender to You,

surrender to the hands of the Junkyard Artist.

afraid, reaching, desperate,

hungry for grace,

dreading the moment i reach the bottom

of your ocean called grace...

you know... will you love me?

you know... will you accept me?

you know... will you embrace me?

will you call me daughter and friend?

will you make art of the landfill of Mess in my heart?

i want to know You.

i want to be known.

i want to learn

to love well.

my lamb, I love you,

I accept you,

I call you to Myself as beloved daughter,

as friend.

I embrace you,

hold you near Me,

laugh and cry,

grieve, rejoice with you, child.

you are Mine.

I love you.

May you, as the king of Kings draws you into His arms, find hope and joy in the journey.