Knitting and Heroes

In the past two days I have become addicted to Heroes. My sister told me to watch it so eventually we could watch them together and so i watched one and then another and yet another. Quite the addictive show. A little creepy at times, but it's about superheroes, I'm not sure why I didn't watch it sooner. I guess I don't know how to "download" things onto my computer.

The bad part about my addiction is I think I can justify it by knitting while I watch. I started a pair of socks and of course I need something to do while I knit, so I watch TV. Either Heroes or Buffy The Vampire Slayer, thanks to my lovely cousin.

And I feel almost justified in my watching huge amounts of television which is ridiculous i know, but i am sort of being productive, although I don't do anything else. If I started knitting some sort of project for people in Africa or something, I might even think of myself as a saint and not just "productive".

I have been watching them on peekvid.com but have run into a wall at Episode four. I can't get any epsidoes beyond episode 3 to load. It's an incredibly sad thing. So does anyone know how I can continue watching Heros? Don't think about it as feeding an addiction, think of it as caring for your good friend and her lack of a social life. I really do sort of have this addictive thing to TV shows if I get into them. I watched a whole season of Average Joe once with my mom, i wanted to know what happened. So it is best for me to watch all the episodes and be done with it.

Even when I watch movies I would rather fast forward to the end, know what happens and then
rewind the movie and watch it in peace. a bit strange, but 'tis who i am.

The weird part is that I'm quite content knitting and watching Heroes or Buffy. Sitting in my room after running after children all day, watching and knitting. Quite enjoyable. I mean, Heroes is exciting, I don't think I could handle much more stimluation than that.

I know I'm a little late to jump on the Heros bandwagon. But I should have a long time ago, you know my sister Claire is on the show and all. But I really like it. Especially Hiro. He is such a great character, except for the fact that he is supposed to be Japanese and it so obviously Korean. Minor detail to Western world but is a big deal in Korea I imagine. I hope that Korean people aren't too offended by that. But I really like that they always speak in subtitles. Instead of Americanizing the characters.

But what is with Niki, she's creepy with her whole alter ego and Siler. Maybe i should watch Heros with someone else for safety sake. It's a little creepy in quiet house where you are alone. But I ask you, what is life without a nightmare or heart stopping fear everyonce and a while?

So if anyone knows how to get episode four or whatever that would be awesome. Thanks. As for now I'll continue eating candy that the teacher I'm subbing for left me. Quite the life.

Yet Another Salute

My grandfather is a lovely man who cherishes hard work, smart living, wisdom with money, family, God, and most of all his granddaughters. My grandfather has had the lucky fortune of having 11 granddaughters. He loves it. If we meet him at some church get together and give him a hug or kiss him on the cheek, he will turn to whoever he is talking with and pretend he doesn't know who we are, and makes some comment about still having charm with the ladies....even as an old man.

He says shocking things because he can because he's old. And so he will definitely try and get your goat if you're paying attention. He will make his funny comment and then give just a small little smile and a wink with his bright blue eyes.

My grandfather sold me my car for half the price we had agreed on. When I went to write the cheque to him he just pretended we had agreed on the lower price and then smiled and winked.
He definitely seems gruff to some people but there is such a lovely heart hidden in him. I have heard countless stories of him giving people work that had moved to Edmonton and helping them out when they needed it.

My grandfather supervised the building of the Hudson's Bay Building downtown when he was 24 years old. His company also built the Glenmore Reservoir and built a hydro dam that allowed Yellowknife to have electricity for the first time. And they made the trip by using caterpillars that pulled large sleighs that they rode in.

He has travelled the world and taken care of his family. Worked hard and helped out many people. Seems like he has lived a good life. And he's a heck of a Sequence and Rummicube player.

I love my grandfather. And over the last while he has become weaker and weaker but everytime I see him he looks me right in the eyes, holds onto my hand and says, "You know I love you right?" And everytime it makes me cry. I don't know why I cry, you would think it would make me happy to hear it but I cry. It's how my body gets out that emotion that wells up within me. It touches me very deep inside and makes me feel like a little kid.

Tonight I went to see my grandpa and I tucked him into bed, made sure he was warm and kissed him goodnight. Quite a reversal of roles. He told me he loved me before he went to sleep and I managed not to cry for my grandma's sake.

Lately Grandpa has been telling me that he is cold and very tired. But he still smiles at me, even if he is a little less spry these days.

My sister is planning a flight home to see him, which means that there isn't a lot of time left. Which is why he needs a salute. There are many things to salute him for but I will keep it simple.

So....
Grandpa, I salute you. I salute you for not forgetting to tell me that you love me. For taking care of your family in many different ways. For 92 good years of life. For having the kindest blue eyes that I have ever seen.

I enjoy reading, I'm not an avid reader by any stretch of the imagination but I enjoy reading. I like talking about interesting thoughts that I have read with people, I like hearing their thoughts. It definitely can be a bit of a pride issue to be able to drop a Lewis quote into a conversation or Dostoevsky or something. I see it as such, I'm aware I can be pretentious. But sometimes it's just fun to talk with other people who have read the same books as you.
I am mostly out of my league with real readers, they have way too many books to pull from and I must seem amateurish to them. But I like to read.

I asked my Uncle once what made a person able to bend with time, to change and be gracious as Christian thought and earthly culture changed. How was I to resist becoming a cynical old person, how was I to be able to read new authors with new ideas even when I'm 60? I wanted him to give me a list of books that he had read that I should read because that seemed to me the answer, reading more books.

And this is what he responded:
"I think it's largely a spiritual question. I'm not particularly close to God, but the people I knew who were really close to God, who showed it in their lives as people of grace, persistent commitment, joy, humility, also had very open minds.
The people who focused on ideas, on thinking, on being smart and open-minded, didn't stay open and moving. Of course this doesn't mean that you don't think lots or have positions, even strong ones. But they are "softened" somewhat, by Spirit presence.

A side issue and practically speaking, keeping lots of new info going in, keeps you a little off balance, prevents that kind of harsh certainty that is part of eventually rigid positions. So read lots. But more significant to seek Him."

In Zach Braff's movie The Last Kiss one of the characters, after reaching a frustration with the selfishness of Braff's character says this:
"What you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you love. That's what matters. That's the only thing that counts."

Sometimes i find myself reading books and they make me feel a certain way. They make me feel passionate about problems in Africa, enraged by the American government or materialistic people or affluence, cynical about manufactured Christianity, or various political or religious ideas. I feel it, it wells up within me.
And yet....after I have read the book I go to another and even though i have some great quotes or thoughts for the next conversation I have with someone, I will have very little to show in my actions that their words really affected me.

I can talk for hours with people about issues, thoughts, etc. But after a while I begin to look foolish because my life does not reflect these things I am so passionate about.

So the question is today: are you talking and not changing? are the glorious words you find on those pages penetrating your world and actually changing who you are? or are they just put into your brain and causing you to only feel things rather than do something?

Please read. It's important. And talk about it, talk about it lots. Form groups to talk, write e-mails, call people to talk. But allow it to change you.

There seems to be little point in reading with no change, to be moved emotionally but not get our legs in order to actually move forward. seems better to read one book and allow it to change how we live, how we spend our money, how we look at people, than to read thousands and stay where we are.

Better to not talk or share our lofty ideas, then to share them and never be changed, to talk about them and never have anything different. Seems like a work of evil to sit around and discuss these things we read, while Lazarus waits at the gate of our homes, waiting to eat the crumbs of our table.

Lego

Last night I went and tried out my friends Tim and Shelly's church. It's all hip and cool because it's on Saturday nights. Tim and Shelly have four boys that I have played lego with a few times while visiting their house.

I was sitting looking after Jessie during the service. Jessie is four years old. While the pastor was praying Jessie tugged on my arm and said,
"Are you coming to my house after church?"
Me: "No, I Don't think so." (because I hadn't been invited or whatever)
Jessie: "Why not?"
Me: "Well I think I might just go home."
Jessie: "You haven't been to my house in a long time. I miss you."
Me: "Well I was there the other night but you were asleep."
Jessie: "Why did you come when I was asleep, I'm not allowed to play lego when I'm asleep."

That was the whole conversation because we were supposed to be praying. But I thought to myself that that is a little snippet of what church is supposed to be. Jessie wasn't embarrassed to say he missed me or to persist that I spend sometime with him. He just genuinely wanted to play some lego. No one made him say it, he meant it. And he wasn't overwhelming or anything, he just wanted to play because he likes me. I didn't feel like playing lego with him would "take" anything from me, it would just be playing. I haven't played with people in a long time.

It made me feel loved inside. It made the new church not feel as awkward. And even though life is weird right now, I know that i have an open ended invitation to a date with a four year old to play star wars lego and visit his guinea pig.

Compost

I often find myself looking for tangible things to make sense of the jumble of feelings and thoughts I have inside. It helps me to analyze things, which I agree, I do too much of. Anyway, this week I found myself thinking about composts... riveting I know. Don't stop reading quite yet.

I have often trudged out to the compost to dispose of that weeks organic waste in my home. It's kept out at the back of our yard, behind a tree, broken bricks are at its feet and one lone pitch fork at its side.

I brace myself, pull back the lid and fruit flies spill out everywhere. I try and control my gag reflex, toughen up and dump the compost in the pile of decaying "stuff". There's brown, oozing lettuce from a few weeks ago, shriveled green grapefruit carcasses that houses a small yellow and black bug, trampled flowers, strawberries who have developed white, fuzzy, and molded caps.

It is not the place where I would choose to spend much time, it's full of all the things we don't want anymore. Each item in a compost has served its purpose and now has been thrown in the back yard for it to live out the rest of its life being eaten and decomposed by millions of little bugs, squirming and sliming their way about. When I am done, and the new items have been placed in the compost I place the lid back on, trap the fruit flies inside and no longer have to think about it.

There are things in life that we carry deep inside, or sometimes very close to the surface, that feel as though they are decomposing our souls. Things like hatred, hurt, and anger. Like some awful little bug has come and housed our very being. At first it is contained to our thoughts or feelings, then slowly it burrows and leaves it's trail behind it, tainting every moment of our day.

You cannot deny it is there and you can feel it creeping through your mind. at somepoint you will need to talk about it, and then when you do you realize how much of yourself it has begun to destroy. I find that it makes me feel nauseous because it's such an awful thing to feel towards another human being or a situation in life.

And sometimes I feel like a compost. bracing myself to take the lid off, I look inside and dump my death into it. And the longer it stays, the grosser it looks, the more uniform all those thoughts become. A large lump of decaying matter.

Composting takes time and slowly those little insects and worms break down all that they find, slowly it changes, and the hands of time gently soften the harder things in life.

In the end though, we are left with a fertile bit of dirt that has no memory of what it was before, that shows no evidence of grapefruit or lettuce, just dirt. and with this dirt we are able to start again.

This death that has housed itself within me greatly saddens me and the amount of time it takes for things to change and heal seems so long. However, there is hope, even in the death of nature, there is hope. It seems that the only way to life is through death and then resurrection.