be-musings

Life is so busy here, with still unpacking miscellaneous stuff, painting/decorating, working, church, family relationships. The blog has suffered because of it. i hope you'll be patient. I don't have as much time for deep thoughts, and to be honest, I'm laughing a lot of the day and less contemplative stuff has time to settle. But let me tell you about life with Angus.

After work Nathan told me of the smelly fur he found all over the upstairs, which he had to vaccuum. Scott told me the source of it. Angus had dragged a maggot infested rat into the house. Scott discovered it on the carpet of our downstairs bedroom. Yuck! I've been walking around that spot since. A few hours after Scott had cleaned it up, more maggots were found under the lazy boy chair upstairs. I think Angus had that thing a few places in the house!
Last night I couldn't find my ear plugs, which usually are on the bedside table. I suspected Angus, and today that was confirmed by the bright pink ear plugs showing in some poo in the back yard. Then there are the missing shoes, pop bottles, broom.
The Williams house goes through a lot of dogs. We all know that Angus might not live many years, because of past record. We've told Matthew that Angus won't live a long life and to appreciate him while he is here. We're half serious. Today Matthew said it will be good to see Angus mature and grow to be an adult. Then he paused and said "But he won't live that long".
After the rat and the ear plugs, it might not be from natural causes either.

Last month we were camping with some friends and families. This week one of the seasoned dads told me a story about an interaction between him and another guy there. It goes something like this.
Guy: "Can we speak alone for a moment?"
Experienced dad: "Sure."
They step aside for privacy.
Experienced dad: "What's on your mind?"
Guy: "I've noticed that your children talk back to you WAY too much."
Experienced dad: "Oh okay. Thanks for bringing it to my attention."

This seems like a minor, good natured conversation. Now replace the guy with 8 year old Matthew. Parenting 101 by a child. Now if I can just get him to clean his room.

In about 1996 I was exposed to the song that contained the following lyrics (if I remember correctly):
One body, one spirit, one Lord, one faith. One God and Father over all. One spirit, He gave us, One life (or something like that) to serve. One God and Father over all. And I say only One can wash away. All my guilt and all my shame. Only one can make me whole. Enter Lord, You're the only one.
I don't think I have that perfect, but something like that.
When I first heard this song I thought "catchy"; "meaningful". I remembered times of singing similar themed songs in teen years and holding hands across the church. Not everyone is into that, but I didn't mind.
You know how people have signature songs? The guy who sang that song played it over and over. I began to tease him about it, and he moved on to other songs. One day, a couple years later I requested he do it again, and he initially thought I was joking. But I was serious. Once in a while it's good to be reminded that we are all from one family and we have one purpose in Christ. To show Him in any way we can as we are His followers.
I remember the competitive nature between the church of my youth and another similar church in town. I had friends at both churches. The other church seemed more aggressive in asking people to come to it, when we had interchurch gatherings. It grew more quickly than my church. It began to feel like we were on opposing sports teams rather than the same team.
Sometimes church is like business. When I was in the bank, we wanted the clients that other banks had. We wanted to grow our business, and we believed we had good things to offer. In reality, most financial institutions are the same, and very their perks at different times, or sometimes at the same time. If we could have had all the banking business in town the institution would have been happy, because it would have meant more money and more security. It's the same in other businesses. One clothing store wants their existing clientele plus all the clients that another clothing store is trying for. You get the picture. The church should be different, but in the push for more money for the bills and to increase the crowd of people we hang out with and to show that we each are part of the "cool" church to be at, we promo. We try to get people to switch allegiances.
Well, when I say "we" I don't mean everyone. I don't want to stereotype every lace and everyone. But I want to make some points.
Church is for anyone and everyone. Your place isn't the same as mine. Mine isn't better or cooler. It's just different. There is room for yours and mine and the next guy's. I don't want to go to a megachurch, so I'm glad there are choices and options. I might not always like where I'm going as I change throughout life, and might need a different approach in order to understand and relate to where God is bringing me. That's okay.
It's about one body. We aren't rival banks or clothing stores. We have common purpose and a common reward for our labour. Sometimes we forget that in church divisions and leadership scuttlebutt and choirs splitting over what Christmas contatta to sing. Right now the main thing I think of is to Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peave. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in your richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdon, and as you sing songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, wether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to the Father through Him. (Colossians 3:15-17)

Like all new relationships, Scott and I still are a bit careful about letting the other person know we are "real". Farts and burps are apologized for - after I giggle at myself. Anything smelly is repressed. I remember a friend of mine commenting about a new relationship she was in, with someone who had been a friend of the family. They had all gone on camping trips together many times and she had seen the man in many states of behaviour. He had joined the other family/friends in farting and burping contests. My friend Fern said to me "I know he farts because I've heard it before. But now that we're dating it's like his butt is airtight!"
The first several days we were married, we were so polite. No smells around each other. Isn't that how it should be? But oh, that was shattered 5 days into the honeymoon.
Since the Courtyard Grill kicked us out that first time, we ate under the stars in a Jamaican flavour restaurant. It was romantic and beautiful. The meal took a long time to come, but when you're relaxing it makes little difference. I had the jerk chicken, he had the jerk shrimp. Several hours later, at 3:30 in the morning, something was jerking around our stomachs. Scott ran to the bathroom, waking me slightly. Picture the lovely bathroom door. It housed only the toilet, and the door consisted of slats open at an angle. Closed enough so that we couldn't see in, but open enough to let the "air" through.
I heard noises from the toilet room, and then the odor followed. The best I could muster up at that sleepy hour was a groggy "Are you still not feeling well?" I think Scott was in the process of throwing up 8 times as well. Thus began a long night. At one point I was in the toilet room with stomach pains and dizziness. Alas, nothing ensued. I was disappointed, as it had been many days since anything had ensued. Later the next morning we called the nurse to the room, who gave Scott some medicine and told me that my problem could be fixed with a simple suppository. I got no sympathy for my stomach cramps. It was all about Scott.
It was a rough 24 hours. All pretenses of hoping to keep only lovely things between us had faded. The next while became about discussing our bodily functions or the lack thereof. I had begun to take Ex-lax. Just one, because I am a small person. Several hours later I took another one. Nothing. Scott was still having lots of "somethings" happening. Then I got fed up and took 2 more pills one night. Scott's condition had improved...just in time for my pills to take effect. Thank goodness there were bathrooms at the beach.
Early on in this marriage we have had to take down the facades. It's going to be a smelly road ahead.

My mom reminded me that I haven't told the shoes story yet. Here it is.
When we prepared to go to Jamaica, Scott did a lot of research abut eating. He bragged that he had all his meals planned out, and knew what restaurants he would eat at. I believe there were about 12 to choose from. There was a dress code that wasn't too hard to fulfill. No shorts and t-shirts at supper. Easy. Scott wore pants and golf style shirts. Nowhere did he see mention of shoe dress code.

Early in the trip, I wanted to eat at a secluded garden restaurant. It beckoned me every time I saw it. One night we came to the entry of the Courtyard, expecting to get in. We were refused because Scott's shoes didn't meet standards. That was the first we heard of the shoe dress code. Disappointed, we went to another restaurant for some authentic Jamaican food. That will lead to a story in another blog.
Every day we passed by the Courtyard on numerous occasions. I longed to go there. Near the end of our stay, we were walking past on our way to another restaurant, and saw people lined up to get in. Their shoes weren't up to code. But they got in! We quickly went after them and....we were in! We noticed during the meal that one man who got in with the "right" shoes immediately changed them into beach flip-flops once seated.
Ther restaurant was so beautiful. Scott was given the best view at our table, and we agreed that halfway through dinner we would switch. As soon as we said that we felt a few raindrops. The staff came and started to clear tables our of the garden and set them up in a small conference room. As they came to ours I sat and looked up at them. "I don't mind the rain. We're from Vancouver Canada and it rains all the time. Can we stay here?" It was all I could do not to hold the table desperately as I said it. They told me we had to go in the other room. So we did. Then they drew the curtains and we couldn't even see the garden! When we left 45 minutes later there were no remnants of rain. There weren't enough evenings left in the trip to go back.
The shoe problem wasn't just ours. The second week we were there, every where we went we heard men talking about needing to find some dress shoes or not being able to eat in certain restaurants. It was a hot topic. "I never knew" "Oh, I knew." What kind of shoes did you bring?" "Oh, those will never do." "Sandals aren't allowed unless they're closed toed or leather." So much thought about shoes! We even asked to rent some shoes from one of the staff. Smelly? Who cares. The comfort of the food would wash away all cooties.