Thursday, March 7, 2013
The tradition of giving something up for the season of Lent hasn't really been a part of how I prepare for and celebrate Easter. I always saw it as more of a "Catholic thing" and, well, I'm not Catholic. I'm also not a big fan of depriving myself of things I enjoy, so I was more than happy to sit this out. One year, when I was about seventeen, I tried giving up eating pasta (big, epic fail) and another year I gave up drinking Starbucks. Most years, though, Christmas rolls seamlessly into Easter and Lent comes and goes without any real observance on my part.
In January, Alan and I began seriously considering our tithe and how much of our income we should give to our church. We were really wrestling with the question "How much is enough? How do we be generous and cheerful givers, while simultaneously being financially responsible and taking care to tend to the needs of our family?" We prayed about it, we read books about it, we listened to sermons about it. And the answer we eventually embraced was that you should give enough that it matters. It's not so much about giving a specific amount each month as it is about giving enough away that you actually feel it ... enough that it makes a tangible difference in your life and requires some sacrifice.
Long story short, this same idea carried over into our views of Lent. We decided that fasting from something would be a good spiritual exercise for us as a couple, and we wanted to give up something that mattered; something we'd really feel and notice. Eating out in restaurants was that thing. We are both foodies and we love a good meal so it's not unusual for us to dine out two ... three ... sometimes even four times a week. We just love the experience and the convenience. We realize it's a luxury, but it's become a luxury we take for granted. Eating out is very much a part of our routine and lifestyle. Giving that up is, for us, HUGE.
We're now three weeks into our commitment and boy are we are feeling it, big time. Our habit of going out for a Sunday brunch after church? Not happening. Too lazy or tired to cook? Too bad; ordering in is not an option. I'm beginning to realize how limited my recipe collection is, how much doing dishes sucks, how one food craving can turn a great day inside out and leave me feeling frustrated and annoyed. Now, when we want to run errands after church we bring homemade lunches with us. On Saturday, I'm going shopping with some girlfriends and I'm planning to bring a soup with me to eat for lunch ... they'll probably grab something from the food court. It's inconvenient. It requires thoughtful preparation. It takes creativity and time and effort. In a nutshell - it ain't easy.
But I'm also starting to *get* it ... truly get it. This might sound crazy but having something taken away for a time ... fasting from something ... really does make one ponder the meaning and significance of Easter. Easter is about resurrection and rebirth. Stepping away from your routine or from something that plays a major role in your everyday life creates room for rebirth to happen. I'm not saying that Alan and I won't ever eat out in restaurants again - haha, we're already planning which restaurant to visit first once our fast is broken! I do, however, think this experience has reminded us of the difference between necessities and luxuries, and it has challenged us. It's made us more aware of our selfishness, our laziness, our "I deserve this" attitudes. It's taught us to encourage one another and hold each other accountable.
We still have another three weeks to go, but I'm confident that we will leave this journey changed people.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Remember that post earlier this month where I said I had handed in my resignation for later this spring? Yeah, well, it turns out "later this spring" came a whole lot sooner than I expected. Today was my last day at work. If everything goes according to plan (namely, if I get pregnant later this year or early next year) then today was quite possibly my last day of traditional 9-to-5 type work EVER. So weird.
I have a bunch of blog posts waiting to be finished and posted here, but before I get to any of that I really wanted to take time to document the lessons I've learned over the past three years as an administrative assistant in a retail customer service environment. I didn't grow up planning to work in an office, answering phones and transferring calls and responding to emails. Between elementary school and university, my various career aspirations included wanting to be a princess, a teacher, a writer, a marine biologist, a parapsychologist, a wedding planner, a lawyer, a social worker and an art curator - just to name a few! Secretarial, administrative work was never on my list and never something I aspired to ... yet it was definitely part of God's plan for me.
Being an administrative assistant humbled me. I was offered a job before I moved to Vancouver but, once here, that quickly fell apart and I was left scrambling for new employment. When I was offered the job at the office I was relieved and grateful. It didn't take long, though, for that gratitude to be replaced with a prideful attitude. As someone with a university education, I felt that I was "above" being an administrative assistant. I felt embarrassed when new acquaintances asked me what I did for work and I had to confess that I was "just" an administrative assistant. My friends were pursuing careers in medicine, law, engineering, science, real estate, etc and I felt leap years behind. God used this experience to reveal my prideful heart and, together, we worked through my issues of insecurity and arrogance. It took time but eventually I got to a place where I was able to say, with confidence, that my career does not define me. This would never have happened if I had been handed a career that fed into my pridefulness.
Working in Customer Service taught me a thing or two about serving other people. I spent my days tending to tasks assigned to me by my boss or working on behalf of clients to resolve an issue. As mentioned earlier, being a princess was the first job I ever wanted and, while I certainly matured over the years, I definitely carried that with me well into my twenties. Serving other people and putting other people's needs/desires before my own is not something that comes easily or naturally to me ... and there I was, working 9-to-5 doing just that. Funny how life works sometimes ...
My job reminded me daily of grace. Over the past three years, I dealt with people who were angry, frustrated and upset. Of course, not EVERY client was calling or writing to complain about something, but many were. I had people call me nasty names, hang up on me, even threaten me. I lost my cool once, hanging up on a man who was threatening me, but most of the time I was able to respond professionally and with kindness. I kept Bible verses on my desk and would read them while one the phone with a particularly difficult customer. I can't say I'm going to miss being verbally attacked by outraged clients, but I wouldn't trade that experience. It was really good practice in dishing out grace, and a great reminder that my strength comes from the Lord.
I'm really grateful for the lessons I've learned over the past 3 years, and the way God has been working in me. He definitely used my job to shape and mold me, and I'm sure He will use my experiences as a stay-at-home wife and (eventually) mother to further grow me into the disciple I am called to be. It will be so strange to wake up tomorrow and not have to rush out the door to work! I'm excited to see what's in store. Stay tuned! :)
xo
Thursday, January 31, 2013
That's our neighborhood. Lovely isn't it? We're a ten minute drive from downtown, which is super convenient but also far enough away from the "action" that this part of town is relatively quiet. The beach, Granville Island and major bus routes are all just a short walk away. This 'hood is popping with coffee shops and trendy restaurants and cute boutiques. And check out the view of the mountains off in the distance! I LOVE that view. Our neighborhood is very newlywed-friendly and we love living here.
There's just one thing missing: children. No, I don't mean ours but children in general.
If everything goes according to plan, Alan and I have at least another full year or so before we become parents. But with babies *hopefully* on the horizon, I've been noticing families more. Correction: I've been actively keeping my eyes open for families. While I occasionally see a mom strolling down the street, her little one in a trendy stroller with a coffee cup holder (note to self: must get one of those!), these sightings are few and far between. There really aren't many children here at all.
I get that cities in general aren't usually considered an ideal place to raise kids. When you add the financial expense of living in our particular neighborhood it makes city life an even less ideal choice for families. We've played around with the idea of moving to the suburbs, where housing is more affordable and young families are more common, and it's certainly tempting. I completely understand why so many of my peers are choosing to make that choice, and I support them in that because it was the right step for their family. But is that the right step for us, for our family? I'm not so sure.
Alan and I didn't just choose this particular neighborhood because of its location or the amazing dining options it offers. We chose this neighborhood because we felt called here ... so much so that we only looked at apartments in this part of town! We strolled the streets and phoned landlords whenever we saw a "For Rent" sign. It didn't even occur to us to look downtown or in other areas because we felt that God had a purpose for us somewhere within this 20-block radius and we wanted to be obedient to that.
We're still trying to figure out exactly what that purpose is, but I do know this much: this neighborhood of ours NEEDS families. It needs the squeals of little ones running around parks and green space. It needs the innocence and joy that children bring to a community to off-set the materialism and superficiality that is so prevalent here. It needs pillars; people who are willing to put down roots and commit, for better or worse. Vancouver is arguably the most transient city in Canada. Many, if not most, of Vancouver's residents are originally from somewhere else and are here for school or work or a year of living abroad. In a place where homesickness abounds and feelings of isolation are common, families are needed to help bridge the gap - to love and embrace the lonely, to mentor and support those who are far from home. To help create a sense of normalcy among the hussle and bussle.
I'm not saying it's the right choice for all families. But the more I think + pray about it, the more I believe that it may just be the right choice for ours.
Friday, January 25, 2013
One of the things I struggle with most is contentment. It's not that I'm unhappy - quite the opposite, really; this season of life has been incredibly joy-filled and continues to be. I genuinely love my life, it's just that there's always that anticipation in my heart for more ... for the next phase ... for greater, bigger, better. I'm sure there are lots of definitions for the word "content" but, for me, it means being satisfied. It means having your heart in a place where you are able to look at your life and think "yup. This is enough. This is more than enough. There may be better but if this is all I get, then I am blessed."
Oh sure, there are areas where it's easy to find contentment. I am perfectly content with my husband, thank you very much, and I'm not looking to trade him in for someone better because I believe I've already got the best guy on the planet! But then there are other areas where being at a place of true contentment would be nothing short of a miracle. My hips, for example. I am far from content with my body, and that's all I'm gonna say about that.
When it comes to contentment, one area where I've found myself struggling is with our current home and living arrangements. We are SO crazy blessed to have a two-bedroom apartment in our favorite part of the city. If you're familiar with Vancouver real estate at all then you know that it's not cheap to live here. To have found such a great apartment at such an affordable price is incredible. We're still putting finishing touches on our home's decor and there's still work to be done but, overall, we've got a darn good thing going on here.
Friends come over and tell us how fortunate we are to have so much space and even a balcony! My girlfriends tell me often how much they love what I've done with the place. This home is more than enough for the two of us ... and still, every now and then I let discontentment creep into my spirit.
I whine about how unfair it is that my Montreal friends pay less in mortgage than we pay in monthly rent. I think about how inconvenient it will be when we have a baby and we need to move our office into the living room area ("will there even be enough space for that? Probably not. It's gonna look terrible!") When I'm elbow-deep in soap spuds doing dishes I find myself wishing we had a dishwasher. The neighbours upstairs are too loud, the guy next door smokes pot, the laundry room is always occupied and for crying out loud we can't even see the snow-capped mountains from our dining room!! (The fact that we can see them from our balcony often goes unmentioned and unappreciated)
For the past few months I've been dreaming and scheming about how awesome life will be when we buy our condo or townhouse. In doing so, I've been completely missing out on the joys this current apartment offers. I'm so thankful that my heart has been changing, albeit slowly, and that I've been appreciating our home more and more. The more I consciously tell myself to be content, the more blessings I notice and the more loveable, cozy quirks I find. This is home, and it is wonderful. Imperfect, but wonderful.
Contentment. It's a great lens through which to see. And now if only I could get a hold on my body image issues ...
