"You suck."

I missed a meeting tonight. It was my first meeting on the worship committee, and I missed it. I'm not sure how it happened. It was on my calendar. 6:30 pm. St. Paul. At 6:35, Colin came bounding downstairs and asked how that worship leaders' meeting was working out for me. A feeling of cold dread splashed over me. It's a terrible, sinking feeling, knowing you've let people down.

To make matters worse, it was even moved to an earlier time to accommodate me coming from half an hour away. Talk about humiliating.

I'm not going to lie, I'm completely devastated by this. In my mind, I'd like to visualize myself as a super-organized, get-there-early, come-prepared type of person. But this doesn't come naturally to me. Anyone who lives with me will tell you this. But I try. Really hard. And maybe that's what's bothering me so much. For all my striving, I still mess up. I'm never going to be that perfect person. When things like this happen, I'm reminded of how much of a failure I am. I'm not good enough, organized enough, with-it enough. But there's an old lesson that God keeps hitting me over the head with [maybe because I'm a slow learner?]. He says, "Jace, you are a wreck." It's my self-righteous pride that gets a kick in the head. Who do I think that I am?

I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to defending myself. I will acknowledge that instead of arguing, I need to work on shutting up when I am being faced with the truth of my ugly faults. I have a hard time "agreeing" with my "adversary". But I'm slowly learning to listen and agree.

After Colin reminded me about where I was supposed to be, I quickly called my pastor to apologize. To be honest, I would expect him to be more than a little upset with me, seeing how the meeting was even changed to accommodate me. His reaction, however, completely humbled me, because he was so full of grace and completely understanding. I cried after I hung up the phone, because I think of how I would react in the same situation. Would I react with the grace that Jesus gives us every single day of our lives? Or would I be a little ticked off?

Obviously, grace doesn't mean that I can take other people for granted and not follow through on my responsibilities. But it does demand that I show the same for others. How can I give grace if I am unwilling to accept it?

It's a true picture of how we stand before the Lord. When will I learn not to try and clothe myself in the filthy rags that are my own striving and perfection? Ultimately, I stand exposed before the Lord, and the only thing that covers me is His grace.

And His grace is enough.

Goodbye, dear friend.

Shana died today. I thought you might want to know.

It's been a very difficult day - so many ups and downs. Trying to keep it together so I could teach, yet when the 3:15 bell rang and the door closed on the last student, the floods came. What a wonderful friend she was.

One could never know how much a part of your family a pet can become, unless one's experienced it for themselves. Shana was part of my life for thirteen years. Thirteen years...she saw so much, experienced the joy, the sadness, the changes, the losses and the gains, the growing up. Through it all, she was there with me. Dad even joked that he would dress her up in a tuxedo (despite her being a girl-dog) and have her walk down the aisle at my wedding.

She was my brother's dog, but yet she never really was. I think all of us secretly claimed her. She was old enough to come and live with us the day I turned sixteen. It was Grandma's sneaky idea to get us a pet. I remember going to pick Shana up from her family and bringing her back in the car. She was nervous and shaking, as I'm pretty sure it was her first car ride as a tiny puppy. We almost loved her to death.

We had so many experiences with that dog. We'd never had one before, so we did some things a little wrong. Like giving her a bath almost every day until someone told us it'd dry her skin out. She got real used to baths though....she'd stand perfectly still in the bathtub as you shampooed her, conditioned her, and rinsed her off. As soon as you'd let her out of the tub, though, she'd run like a mad-dog all over the house, pushing her head into whatever carpet was nearby and propelling herself forward with her hind legs. She'd pause only to shake her head like crazy and start running again. She's probably the only dog I know who would also sit through being blow-dried and hand brushed. Like I said, we didn't know dogs were any different.

One time, I thought I'd try dyeing her green with food colouring while my parents were napping. She didn't mind. In fact, she liked dressing up. One time she ate my mom's lipstick, another time we put mascara on her impossibly long eye-lashes. Maybe we were bad pet owners, but she didn't mind and we didn't know better.

I knew Shana wasn't the smartest dog on the block, but I made it my mission to teach the tricks I thought she should know: sit, stay, roll over, shake, and "BANG!" (play dead). She also knew what it meant to speak, and speak louder, or whisper. I have to laugh when I think that she learned all these tricks because I trained her by rewarding her with Glossettes. Again, bad, ignorant dog lover I was! Maybe that's where she got her sweet tooth from. One time we came home from church to find that she had sniffed out a box of those Belgian Seashell chocolates and somehow undone the wrapper and eaten the entire box. Her whole face was covered in chocolate. What a sight!

Shana loved to go for walks with my dad. He'd take her along the paths behind Jesse Lake and let her offleash. No moving creature was safe from her curiosity!! Squirrels received the utmost attention, even after they'd scurried up a tree. Shana had the patience of Job, and would sit at the bottom of the tree, head up, eyes trained on the critter and not move until she was practically dragged away.

You could call her anything you wanted. From Banana, to Nana, from Will, to Zero and just plain "Shana!!!!!!" exclaimed with as many exclamation marks, she would come running with tail wagging, because she knew.

Pretty much everyone I know knew Shana. She was the friendliest dog you could ever meet. Since my mom teaches piano from the house, she had quite a wide social circle. Even students I teach now in school ask me about Shana. All of my old roommates (and my current, permanent roommate!) have known Shana. I'd even get a tad bit jealous when I'd come home from University for a weekend and she'd go right to Natasha, or Rosy. She even sniffed out the boys I'd bring home just for her approval....but I know she approved of The Farmer the most! She'd wait at the top of the stairs, little tail a-waggin' at the sound of his diesel truck. She loved everyone and everyone loved her.

The last couple of years have been difficult. In many ways, it has been like she was already gone. She lost her sight, her hearing, and was succumbing to what the vet described as canine diabetes. We knew what the only option should be, yet some of us were in denial, still clinging to the days of when we'd pull into the driveway and see her little nose poking through the blinds, waiting for us. I knew she was gone, yet the rare times she'd respond with a tail wag when she smelled my hand gave me the hope that somewhere in that shell of a dog was the gentle, fun, energetic dog I love.

I don't want to remember Shana as the dying dog that she was. I want to remember all that she has been, all that she gave to me and so many others. I want to remember the tears I cried into her fur, the way she would lick my hand when I was sad, how she would do anything for a piece of cheese, and how she would spin out on the laminate floor trying to get to me when I got home. I want to remember the dog who was a part of my life and a part of my heart, and always will be. Shana-Banana, I hope dogs go to heaven, but if not, please know that I loved you with my whole heart and was so blessed that God gave you to me.

I love you 'nana.

Shana Banana

(1995 - 2008)

Camping in the great white north.

What is it about those funny Canadians who think that just because it's the first long weekend without snow on the ground they can go camping, in Alberta, and have a good time on May long weekend?

Inevitably, it always turns cold as Friday approaches, despite the 25+ degree weather earlier in the week.

To all those in tents and campers this weekend: Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha.

See you in July.

He is Risen Indeed!

Happy Easter!!

For some reason this year, I have been anticipating Easter with a great sense of expectation.

I have watched the turning of hearts unfold through the 40 days of lent, the reconciling of God and his children, and the depiction of Jesus' passion (the simple is best - the one my students did was so powerful and dramatic, it was hard to hold back the tears.)

As the sun rises though my east-facing windows, I think of the utter joy and relief that Jesus' friends and family must have felt that early morning.

And somehow, so many years later, that joy and overwhelming sense of new life resounds in my heart today.

[Oops] I did it again!

Okay, okay, so I'm no Britney Spears, but....

I am pleased to announce that my high school concert band won the William Graham Memorial Award for "Best Overall Band" at this year's Music Festival, which featured bands from Northern Alberta and Saskatchewan.

They were asked to perform at the special awards concert Friday night where the award was presented.

This is the second year in a row that one of my bands has received the award.

My grade 7 band also won this year's trophy for "Best Beginning Band".

I can't tell you how happy it makes me feel to see the accomplishments brought about by the hard work of my students and their teacher.

Kinda validates that I'm doing a good job. :-)

Yay!

John never had to change his Henry.

It occured to me today that I am going to have to re-invent my signature. This has been a source of aggravation to me for the past 23 minutes.

That is how long I have been practicing a cursive D.

No one ever thinks about how one's handwriting, especially one's signature, is set by the time they are of marrying age. Soon will be gone the days of my double (sometimes triple) Js. Instead I have to learn how to do a D.

This presents itself as a problem, because:

a) I think cursive Ds are hideous.
b) The way I was taught to write a cursive D does not match the "style" of my cursive J.
It is a mis-match.
It simply will not do.

Therefore, I have been experimenting with different ways of re-inventing my signature.

I tried an angular J to go with the D.

I tried making my D more loopy to match my J.

It's all just so foreign!

Add to the conundrum the following, and you can see why one could get quite perplexed! This is serious business!

[PS: The following is true; I read it on the internet.]


A rounded, legible signature is a sign of honesty and reliability.



A right slant shows an amiable and friendly personality and an ability to communicate and mix with ease.



Illegible signatures can be an attempt to deceive, with the writer desiring to keep his/her thoughts a secret. Similarly, a small, squidged-up signature is a sign of inhibition and a need for protection and safety.



If the signature is circled around, it implies that the writer is afraid of the world and other people so uses the circle to act as a kind of protective barrier against harm.



A signature with lots of whirls and loops is a sign of a bid for attention. The person is often loud and aggressive with a habit of making him/herself known.



An underlined signature demonstrates a desire to show her/his importance. It symbolises a healthy ego and a need for self-esteem.



When a signature deteriorates into a line, it shows manipulation and, sometimes, deviousness. The writer isn't always sincere, but can be very clever.


What does your signature say about you?

The cheque's in the mail...

I am not very good about being regular.

No, I don't need more bran in my diet. But when it comes to checking my mail, those "Super" Boxes kill me.

It used to be easy to get the mail.

-Walk up front sidewalk.
-Open creaky hinged lid of box attached to house.
-Get mail.

Not so in Bugtussle, no, Siree.

My mailbox is located on the next block over, out of the way of the beaten path. One must be purposeful about getting the mail.

Therefore, not being a real regular person (would that make me odd?), there have been times where as many as three weeks have gone by before taking a peek in the box.

It's not like I get anything interesting anyways. I pay my bills online, so I don't even get bills in the mail anymore. The last piece of personal mail was from Nicole and Wade (nice card, btw!)

So, imagine my delight when I went to the box today and found three cheques, all addressed to me (yipee!) totalling almost $600.00. I was grinning like I had won the lottery as I walked back to my car.

One was a GST cheque, one a rebate from Apple, and one a rebate from my Health Insurance.

Then it hit me.

All of this was my money to begin with!

Oh well. At least now I can afford some pimped-out shoes.

Free Lunch! [or supper...]

Today I took my three bands to the music festival where they got dressed up and impressed a highly qualified doctor of music.

["Doctor of music? What does he do?? Does he fix instruments?" says the drummer.....]

Two of my bands took home a mark of Distinction, and my high school band got a Superior standing, the highest mark that can be awarded.

Am I bragging?

Absolutely.

Anyhow, I came home from the trip and it occured to me that tonight was the night my friend Bartlett of Travel Alberta fame was gracing the likes of Boon-doggle on some business. It was an open house of some kind for the EUB.

Exactly. What's the EUB?
(I still don't know, really....)

I wasn't sure where the grand event was taking place, so I decided to put my google skills to the test, just for old TA Times' sake, but alas I could not find any info on the occasion, only a telephone number.

I called the number and asked about the open house being held in Bonnyville.

"I'm sorry, this is EUB."

"Yes, and I am inquiring about the open house in Bonnyville tonight."

"You don't understand, this is the Energy and Utilities Board. We are a blah, blah, blah, not a real estate company."

"Uhhhh.....yeeeah. No, actually the EUB is having an open house event tonight in Bonnyville. Do you know what time it starts at?"

[Huffy.] "Well. I don't know anything about that, I can't help you." Click.

Oookay.

Luckily, I was talking to The Farmer on the phone, and he told me there were sandwich boards on mainstreet advertising the thing, so I went and drove Bungieville speed past them to find out it was at the Agriplex.

Yup.

We have an Agriplex.

Anyways, I stopped at Sobeys and picked up a congratulatory pineapple to give to Bartlett and Mrs. Bartlett on the arrival of their new Biti-Bart. I drove over to the Agriplex and walked in, not knowing what to expect, exactly, but there was a huge crowd and a man giving a speech. I felt a little awkward, but a lady came up to me right away and said in a hushed tone, "Come on in, you can register over here and we'll give you a name tag."

Considering I didn't even know what kind of event I was at (and neither did their answering service, apparently), I was a little hesitant, and just went over and stood in the corner until the man was done his speech. Then I went walking around the booths to try to find Bartlett. Luckily, I did, because I think I would have felt a little foolish crashing an event with a pineapple in a giftbag.

It was great to catch up with my old TA friend. I love those kind of friends that you can not talk to for...well...a year, but then pick up exactly where you've left off. I even got to sit behind his display table and be an imposter EUB representative. [Yeah, I don't know...google it and see what you find....]

The best part, however, was that the event was a fully catered one with chicken, roast beef, mashed potatoes, salads and dessert....so I got a free supper out of it!

Okay, I'm lying. The best part was catching up with Bartlett, but the beef was definitely a bonus!

Yes, it's wonderful to see old friends again. I never took the time to chronicle the visit of Wade and Nicole and our weekend adventures....[Nic, it would take up a whole screen or two, n'est-ce pas?]...but a good time was definitely had by all.

Therefore, I urge ye, get thee to Boonieville! Jesse Lake (aka sludge bucket) is beginning to thaw, and there is the wonderful aroma of stench in the air! Actually, there's one band teacher who'd love to play tour guide. We guarantee a good time! Consider it! You, too, could be a hick in the sticks!

If the shoe fits, get a loan.

So this weekend, my friend Carolyn and I went to The City. I had to get an oil change on the Jetta and thought I'd show Carolyn some E-Town culture. Being from Nova Scotia (or, "Down East" as is said around here), she had never been to Edmonton and experienced the bright city life.

Since my car was in the shop, we took the shuttle to the U of A campus where we roamed the buildings and people-watched. Next, we rode the train just for fun all the way to the end of the line. On the way back, we stopped off at the Legislature and took an interpretive tour. [Who even does that?? It was so nerdy and fun!]

After that, we took the train back to the university and hopped a bus to Whyte Ave. I stopped in at Sole Experience because I always seem to have good luck finding styles of Merrells that no other store carries.

A little shoe background on me: I used to be really cheap about shoes. Twenty bucks was about my limit. Then I joined the Running Room and got edumacated about proper footwear. Once I had a really expensive pair of shoes, I realized I could not go back. Gone are the days of urban professional dress. I can't hack the shoes that are required by the fancy duds anymore! Therefore, I only wear Merrells now. I love them and they are wonderful.

Even more wonderful is the fact that Merrell now makes a really cute Mary Jane. [I cannot even believe that I just refered to shoes as cute. What is happening to me??] However, these shoes still cost $120. Now, even though I am an employed professional, I still have a hard time swallowing that price tag. However, as Carolyn pointed out, if I look at the per-use cost of the shoes, it's really just pennies a day....

Whatever.

So imagine my utter shock as we strolled down Whyte Ave into Gravity Pope to take a look. I go to the sale rack and find a plain sort of looking dress shoe, and I pick it up, just curious to see what it cost.

$665.00

Yes. You read that right.

Over six hundred dollars.

For one pair of shoes.

When I used to work at Second Cup (which was still one of the best jobs ever, minus the pay), I used to calculate how many hours it would take for me to pay for something. Using those calculations, that one pair of shoes would take me 95 hours of my life. Almost four complete 24 hour days.

It makes me wonder....who buys these things anyways??

thoughts in the night.

"Come, let us return to the Lord!

He has torn us in pieces;

now he will heal us.

He has injured us;

now he will bandage our wounds.

In just a short time,
he will restore us
so we can live in his presence.

Oh, that we might know the Lord!

Let us press on to know him!
Then he will respond to us

as surely as the arrival of dawn
or the coming of rains in early spring."