Monthly Archives: March 2010

We were meant for each other Richard Dean Anderson!

I used a knife to fix my computer this morning. Yup, a knife…and a wind-up flashlight. MacGyver would be proud.



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I try to make healthy food choices, sometimes I’m good at it and sometimes…not so much. I’m interested in buying and growing food that is healthy for both me and my children. I appreciate whole grains, full fats, organic (and not that I buy organic 100% of the time), farmers markets, home cooked and baked, veggies, fruits, and local meats. I feel like I’m constantly trying to edit our diets without going too overboard (I noticed a few too many pizza boxes one day…so no delivery until May. I make a killer pizza for cryin’-out-loud, why are we ordering out?) James and I watched Food Inc. the other day and although the documentary is dealing with the American food industry I think that it brings up some very valid and tough questions concerning our view of food and how we allow it to be produced. The kicker for me was watching an episode of Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution. I can’t embed it for some reason, but you can go here to watch it if you like. The part where a whole class of first graders can’t identify one. single. vegetable really got me. I felt like crying and throwing-up at the same time. It made me think again about my food choices and what I’m teaching my children with every single bite of food I take.


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He Reigns.

We sang this Newsboys song in church on Sunday and I was deeply moved by it. I couldn’t help but think of Haiti. I pictured flying over the island in the airplane and seeing all of their beautiful faces. I thought of their poverty and hunger and all of the injustice. I thought of the little kids that I became so attached to. In coming home I have felt so down about what I saw there. I am responsible for what I now know, and what do I do? What can I do?

This song reminded me that it is nothing I can do…we need to raise our hands to God and pray for the nation of Haiti. We need to feel the injustice and weep for the oppressed people. I know it sounds so odd, but I found myself singing this song to Haiti.


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For those about to rock…

Rhys has been a bit of a stud-muffin lately. It started off with Rhys wearing his suit jacket, bow tie and cowboy hat to church. Then he branched out and it was worn out to dinner, to Costco, to the dump. Now this outfit has seeped into his everyday wear. He gets upset when I suggest that maybe, just maybe, his suit jacket is a little overdressed for staying at home with mom all day. He says he wants to look handsome.

Well, there’s a girl, you see. She’s a very pretty girl and I think that Rhys has caught on to the fact that he needs to be extra special to get her attention. He needs to be set apart from all the other hum-drum boys…cuz she goes to school, you know. When he dresses up for church he says that he wants her to notice him, that he thinks she’ll think that he’s handsome or something. He gets a big grin on his face when he says this. I didn’t know a four-and-a-half year-old could be this in love.

I just hope, for Rhys’ sake, she’s into AC/DC.


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At least it’s sunny outside.

It’s weird to think that I was in Haiti last week. For some reason it already seems like it was so long ago, I guess the polar-opposite cultures could have something to do with this. How can a short plane ride take you from one extreme of over-abundance to the other of widespread poverty? I have to admit that it’s been hard to be home. I’m still having trouble putting my trip into words. My hands feel tied and I’m wondering (along with James) what our next steps are in helping-out a country we are so far away from.

I’m feeling quite exhausted today. Très fatigué. Five of us that were on the trip got sick and I’m thinkin’ that plus the trip itself plus the emotional/mental aspect plus a whole night of Ammie crying plus getting her cold has me a bit worn out. It’s been difficult to get back into the swing of things; housework, childcare, cleaning…my mind seems to be elsewhere. It kind-of feels like I’m physically in Manitoba but my mind is still back in Haiti.

I’m excited to share my trip with you over the coming weeks as I find the words to properly portray my time there, my impressions of the people, my hopes, my convictions, and whatever God continues to teach me in the aftermath.


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Crazy World.

Haiti-Day One (a journal entry)

Well, I just saw my very first cockroach scuttle across the concrete floor of my bedroom from underneath my baggage…I must be far from home. We arrived in Cap Haitien this afternoon. The flight over the ocean in the puddle-jumper was beautiful; smooth and sunny, I was able to catch-up on some much-needed rest. Even as we were landing I started to see a whole different world; cows and dogs walking along the air strip, people hanging around inside the fencing, garbage piled up along the wall. Our baggage was delayed and eventually got to us on a cargo plane. Everyone told us to be flexible. It’s probably one of the words that was mentioned the most in preparing for our trip…’be flexible’. I’m starting to understand why. As soon as were out of the airport (and it’s a stretch to call it that) we walked out of the door into a cage surrounded by people wanting to sell things, children asking for money and water, men hoping to make a buck by carrying your luggage. Chickens scampered around and women carried big bins carefully balanced on their heads. The heat hits hard and the air is thick with humidity and the smell of Haiti.

Our trek through Cap Haitien was even more eye-opening and in looking back, the commotion at the airport seemed calm and orderly compared to the rest of the city. My world couldn’t have been more turned upside-down. I felt as though I saw every one of the one million people living in Cap and they all had something to sell, or buy, or move. The streets were filled with all sorts of commotion; venders lined the sidewalks selling the most random assortment of goods, every other table had piles of sugarcane with women sitting behind it on the worlds smallest chair chopping some more, cars, trucks, buses and motorcycles all had their own rhythm for maneuvering around the city without hitting people, each other or the crater-sized potholes, goats nibbled atop piles of smoldering garbage street-side, gas stations were watched by armed guards, and every once-in-awhile a UN truck or tank plows through traffic. Yes, this is indeed a different world.

After we survived our bumpy hour-long ride we got to our oasis-of-a-house in Haut Limbe. We settled ourselves and then went for a hike up the mountain to see a reservoir that was built to bring water to the entire community. What a view. This place in infinitely more beautiful than what I had thought it would be. I hate to say it, but I was expecting dirt hills with the occasional dried-up shrub. Further down the hill some little kids were singing at the top of their lungs while carrying a pole. The froze as soon as they spotted white folks. All-of-a-sudden they started yelling out “BONSWA” and waiving their hands over their heads to get our attention. All little ways up some boys sang out while running some goats down a path until they spotted us. I definitely feel like a spectacle; Caucasian, female, blonde, blue eyes. Everyone stops what they are doing to look at us. Some shout out “BLANC!”

As we settle-in for the night my mind is racing. What kind of crazy world have I been dropped into?


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no words.

i’m back.
i’m tired.
i’m unsure of how to describe my trip…i may need so processing time 🙂

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