Bees in My Bonnet

  It didn’t happen all at once, like in the fairy tales. By it, I mean love. Not what people think of when they think ‘love.’ Not the love that flutters the heart and weakens the knees. The love grew over time when the caught breath and hormonal impulses had found their proper place, behind the choice and mature yielding of the soul to another.  The man loved his woman until it ached. He got up each day, though weary and less than thrilled with his daily labours, and set out to win the bread for the home, wife, and children. The job was interesting on some level. It suited his gifts, a luxury to be sure. In the early days he had resented having to work. How much he’d rather fill his life with more meaning, more purpose, more self-pursuits. But he loved his woman, his family. He needed to serve their needs before his whims. He dedicated himself to providing, and it was his privilege to do so.  He might have pursued a perfect life, where every endeavour was perfectly suited...

  Imagine if we had ears like dogs That can tell the world when we're afraid At ease  Safe Alert, angry, or  Disinterested.  And what if we had a tail,  A signpost to herald  Moments of shame,  Delight,  Joy,  Or hope?  If we could read the code - The ears, the tail,  The hair standing tall Or lying flat on the neck - Would we somehow offer A warmer welcome,  A gentler touch,  An uncritical gaze  To hold and cushion The curled-under tail,  The drooping ears,  The reluctant glance that says:  'I've failed!  I'm afraid!  You must not like me!' If we had ears like dogs,  And a tail,  Would the words soften its harsh blows?  Would we find respite from those who would Kick us to the curb?  Would the biting voice of disdain Break just a little,  Maybe even wither... into silence?  If you could read my shame on my face,  And know I cower in fear,  You might jus...

  I am a person in process – never quite done I suppose We find our start in life with a Mother. I have a Mother, who had a Mother.  I am a Mother Imperfectly Mothered, I Mother. Yet mostly I don’t know what it is I’m doing or how to keep doing it. But there is no out – No quitting! No vacation! – This permanent job. Yet because of my own Mother-wound Deep, still unhealed – I undertake a journey; A walk through the interior and find a need, a lack, a soul-longing. What is this yearning – how does it shape me in this moment? It tells me I have unfinished business Never complete this side of the mansion in the sky. It tells me this hunger in my soul – both gift and burden – A yoke easy pressing about me – weight assures me weariness is real. I do not imagine the load.   And a voice whispering Divine Love assures me: “The hungry are fed and never sent away empty.” I welcome, with joy, this news. My heart overflows with hope: “Oh please, dear Love, never send me away at all! ...

Pull up a chair and let's have a frank conversation about sex. Or don't. This is my disclaimer section where I tell you that if you are not married, and sex isn't available to you to give or receive, then most likely you should just stop reading here and go on about your day. On the other hand, you could just simply be curious about the inner workings of marital intimacy and have no struggle with sexual desires - and in that case, use your discretion. I do have some thoughts on sex and the single person and ways to live with unfulfilled desire, but that is beyond the scope of today's topic. Some people are squeamish when it comes to full disclosure about bedroom activities (sexual expression in marriage). Sex is, understandably, a deeply intimate, personal and private matter. It's nobody's business what you like, how you like it, and what you and your spouse engage in with what frequency and such. Because of these factors, so often nothing gets said about sex...

I think this is the one probably everyone can at least find some connection to, because, as far as I can tell, we all eat.  I considered expanding this category to include anything that has a special interest - like a particular sports team or a certain brand name of shoes, or a certain city or language or culture (for me that would be HONG KONG!! - shout out to all my Hong Konger friends!) But I think special interest might be its own category.  I'm still hashing this all out in my head, and that can take a while to foment. Thanks for your patience. Why is food a particular love language? Why is it not in the category of 'gifts' or 'quality time'? Because it might blend these two, but it may also include words of affirmation ("You baked this amazing cake?!! Wow! I feel so loved!!"). Since it touches on so many categories - like, even touch - who can eat food without touching it? - it must be its own special category. We even talk of 'serving a meal...

I have often said my love language is "Being Right" and people laugh until they realize I'm not kidding - I am actually serious.  That led me to reflect on the 5 Love Languages and come up with 5 that they seemed to miss.  I consider the 5 Love Languages as kind of a primer - like the primary colours, and my 2nd 5 as the more nuanced, but no less significant love languages.  I won't comment what I think of the book, its author or why I like or dislike the concept.  I only mention it because my 5 kind of tag on to the first 5. Just an overview: The 5 Love Languages promotes the idea of learning and speaking both your own and your loved one's love 'language' - the way he or she primarily receives and gives love, in the most intuitive sense.  The 5 are described as: 1. Words of Affirmation (whether spoken or written) 2. Acts of Service 3. Gifts 4. Quality Time 5. Physical Touch Once you have those down - in that you understand how to use them to...

These days of Quarantine have been refining for us as a family, as I'm sure you can imagine.  Just keep 9 people cooped up in a 4 bedroom house for 3 months and see what happens. We are by no means your 'model' family, even if you like to imagine us as such. Just ask any of our friends who stop by - sometimes things are calm and happy, and even quiet (like, rarely).  Other times certain kids are having a rough day and it shows.  And even if it's not just moodiness, crankiness, annoyingness or whiney-ness, it is simply the friction of being near each other - near enough to make annoying sounds, expressing frustration with grunts and sighs, or, if you're like me, simply announcing to everyone in sight exactly what seems to be the problem.  Loudly.  "IT SEEMS TO ME I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICES THE TRASH ON THE FLOOR NEXT TO THE OVERFLOWING RECYCLE BIN. HMMM, I Wonder,  WHY IS THAT ??!?!"  Some would call this passive-aggressive.  But I think it is s...

People are like flowers Dotting an otherwise monochrome plateau;  A landscape predictable and bare - A horizon flat, uninterrupted.  Daisy, tulip, iris, snapdragon: Bright or mute, Unordinary or plain,  Invite the eye - They seem to say,  "Do you see me?  Do you really see?  I splash color I raise my head I call for your gaze  To rest on my beauty. From afar you see only my brightness; Up close,  my delicate, intricate detail - My unique design." People, delightful and diverse,  Dot life's landscape Intersecting doldrums Painting days  Splash hues bold or discreet Blends never known to exist Winning my gaze,  Allowing my eye to rest On those whose invitation - Clear as a sunflower against  A crisp, cloudless sky - Speaks unabashed: "Look at me.  See me.  Really see.  I welcome your unrestrained awe."

So, yesterday I posted about the kind of interactions I sometimes have regarding the state of affairs, especially regarding clutter in our home. (If you missed part 1,  click  Here ) It didn't end there. Like I said, I do need a Lot of help and thankfully Jena came to my rescue. Not only did she write the funny response - but she was as much a friend in deed (out deeds, depending), to meet me in my need. Today I am reminded though that Sam also came to my rescue, as it was a relative of his, he felt the need to also respond. As I look back at that, I am again so very thankful for the loving man God dropped in my lap (well, more like, in my house, but that's a long story you can read about  Here ). Here is how he addressed this situation (this is long, but I put it here with only minor edits that may be too personal, because I think his words are worth sharing with a broader audience - we are surely not the only couple to struggle with household order!): Dear --...

In case anyone is in doubt, I'll just put this out there: I need a LOT of help. I am not type A or even type B. By the time you get to X, Y or Z...I'm in there somewhere. I've always been scatter-brained - I still have some of my report cards which repeatedly pointed out my daydreaming habits. So, I'm sure you will be surprised to find out that I struggle with a thing called Chronic Disorganization. Combine that with a thing called A.D.D., (I like to think of that as Alternately Designed Diva), and a few other acronyms and labels that are especially helpful in addressing my various issues, and you get ME. That is my preface to the rest of what I'm about to put here. I'm posting this partly because it is so entertaining...but also because I am exceedingly grateful for the delightful person who wrote the response - who helped me out in my distress some time ago. Not only did she help me address a potentially riddled-with-relational-mines interaction, with hilar...