Author Archives: melissafed

Good Friday Confessions

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People were once projects to me. Objects to win over to a cause. I make myself nauseous when I think about it. In a Travellers Cafe in Malaysia, in darkened wine bars, over sushi lunches I’ve declared myself the worst of these. Begged forgiveness for the blemishes I put all over the church, forgiveness for the blemishes the church puts all over my reputation. I had it all backwards and mixed up.

Didn’t He declare the project finished?

How dare I add to the magnificent work he has done? What he whispered over the finale, what my bible reads in blood-red is Love. That is it. There is no pretense in this, no agenda, no ulterior motive. I choose love…His and yours.

So on this Good Friday, again I beg sorry. If you’ve ever felt less than an object of affection in my presence. If you’ve ever felt that I was trying to fix you up or make you better…forgive me. I got it wrong. I am only a recipient of this radical grace gift, celebrated especially today. Love is by no means, neat, tidy and clean…I’m not always good at it.

But, my friends, this love of mine? It is sincere and I will spend the last of my breath proving it to you.

lt;center>so much shouting, so much laughter

Playing with Fiction

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I am taking a fiction writing course at the university. Its one of those things that I don’t really know why I’m doing it. I sit next to these MFA’s and journalists and I feel dreadfully inept. I laughed at myself for other reasons too. 1) I am not educated enough, not brilliant enough to be a decent fiction writer 2) I love GOOD fiction way too much to ever write cheesy Christian, or weird Christian historical fiction (seriously what is the DEAL?).  3) Seriously…does everyone in my generation think they should get to write a book? We really need to get over ourselves.

So perhaps a waste of time and money…save the fact that I LOVE IT. So…I am not going to learn to sew or play tennis or run marathons instead I am going to have a hobby. Welcome to it! My teacher has told me I am not allowed to write ‘bloggishly’ whilst doing my writing practice (30-60 minutes a day) so you poor souls are therefore subject to my class homework. This week we settled in on settings (well…and scene, exposition and summary). Here is a scene from a short story I am working on.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

“I did it again” was all the text message had read. It was enough, for now here I was, flying down the highway much too fast for a road this wet, for puddles this deep. I imagined the puddles ahead of me, the ones I would find at Leas house. Those puddles would be red, would be thick and would be deep. I press the pedal closer to the floor and I know I am tempting fate. “Police officer, are you there? Come this way! Save me from myself. Save me from my savior complex. From her. Get in between us.” There must be someone better equipped to deal with this than I. Lea, she knows all about the ‘establishment’; hospitals and foster care. She knows about all of it and trusts none of it, no one. No one that is, save me.

I arrive at one am and feel my way along the stucco of the town house that she calls home. Lea leases a bedroom from a school teacher with whom she shares a kitchen . I push open the sliding glass door around the back side of the house and  I note it is ajar; she knew I would come. The room smells faintly of cat litter and pain. There are no photos in this room, no books. There is no left behind scent of food, no throw blankets on the black sofa. If you had told me that I was looking at a vacant suite I would have believed you.

“Lea, Lea, are you here”

“Yes. I’m here.” The voice, weaker than usual, fragile like glass, trails back. Fear creeps up my throat. I pause at the threshold, prepare for what my eyes might find.

(weak I know…its 11:45 ok? Lay off. I’m tired.)

Theology in Skin

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Some years, some weeks, some days I can dig in deep. I can lose myself for hours in thinking about Easter and Love and Suffering. This year, mothering these two, it’s just not going to happen. This year Easter snuck up on us and here we are days in advance and very few preparations have been made.

I’m at peace with that. Theology is useless unless it grows feet and hands and puts itself to work. Unless it stretches and shows itself to be Love to the fever and headache that grow in the night that prove giants in little bodies. Unless it is expansive and warm like the moonlight love letter I received in the night, it is useless. Unless it has room for the most intense of suffering, the most dramatic and intense of the human experience than we are not living the truth of Easter. We’ve not yet become the Easter people.

There is a headache at five am and a request for me to kiss it. Little face is hot and dry and I can feel the illness settling into him. I pour myself onto his bed like a moon beam, wrap myself around him and pull him into safety embrace.

This act is theology enough for me. Even as this morning I have moments of more, the types of moments that make sense of the work and remind us the reason Jesus came, the way that ‘he calls us to total self-giving. He does not want us to keep anything for ourselves. Rather, he wants our love to be as full, as radical, and as complete as his own. He wants us to bend ourselves to the ground and touch the places in each other that most need washing. He also wants us to say to each other, “eat of me and drink of me.” By this mutual nurturing, he wants us to become one body and one spirit, united by the love of God.” (Nouwen).

Theology has to wear skin. It’s the only way to walk in truth.

“Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love”John 13:1

Preparing Hearts

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Its holy week. This week I am settling myself, firmly on the ground at the foot of the cross. I find my heart marvelously peaceful and jam-packed with joy. Days like this it is so easy to free my heart to dance in gratitude.

(click here to send to make a donation and send an ecard to someone you love this holiday!)

Thankful this Monday for:

583) Pink gum boots in puddles

584) Whip cream topped hot chocolate for little girl, eyes lit up like fire works

585) Taking my children to their first musical and little boy whispers “I’m going to have dreams about this”

586) Nephew and niece on stage

587) Homework!

588) Yard work

589) Signs of spring (in the face of evidence to the contrary)

(yes that is 3 inches of snow on my deck)

590& 591) Little ones who fall into Sunday afternoon naps, daddies more than happy to accommodate

592) Children getting along SO WELL, after a period of SO NOT.

593) Escape to a conference at church for a few hours. Seeing women I’ve not connected with in ages.

594) This…

Visit others who keep their eyes wide for the gifts here:

Country Chronicles: Incongruencies

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There is something weird about me. Birds, when they get too close make me nervous. Birds, at a distance, are also some of the most beautiful things in the world. When a bird suddenly flies up while I am walking I jump and get really nervous. When  I see a bird of prey through my car window I am liable to pull over and watch for extended periods. I don’t get it either.

I blame the giant rooster from my childhood who survived the coyote attack that killed the rest of the chickens. He got some sort of post trauma injury and would attack us if we went in; even if you didn’t go in he would stare at you with eyes that I’m pretty sure glowed red and that would bore through to your soul if you stood outside the coop too long. Terrifying.

In any event, because of this jumpiness people might be surprised to learn that I’m becoming quite an ornithologist. The favorite things I’ve seen this week is the mating pair of mallard ducks that have moved into our little pond. I’ve made up whole stories about why they’ve moved to the country to get away from it all. The two of them sat quietly down there all week, every time I would drive in they would be sitting side by side watching the world go by. I’ve also been a little jealous that Joel and the kids spotted an owl of some sort the other day. We’ve narrowed it down to a Great Gray or an adolescent Snowy Owl. Yellow eyes and lack of tufts narrow it down to those. Our little bird feeder has become a favorite spot for all sorts of song birds and I chased away a woodpecker from my deck this week too.

This week we’ve also watched the land erupt with all kinds of kids, all over this place. Thursday night we seriously enjoyed hosting several care groups and once again realized how hard it is to be a teenager. Especially a teenager with disability. I watched a group of four girls talk about their experiences with a boy at school and the hostility he treats them with, the mock attention he gives, their perception is so skewed. It makes me want to stand up and shout at someone. Instead we invite them here. We try to live out family life well in front of them. Loving our children first even in the midst of all the chaos that is happening around us…could this be the first time they’ve seen a functional family? Could we light a small fire that they could warm themselves beside? Could that carry them through the week ahead? We hope so and as we watch care group leaders full of grace and patience I’m almost sure of it. Last night Joel spoke at church and about half way through the evening my throat stopped up as I saw afresh the passion with which he speaks of his call to the oppressed youth of our community.

I’m a little scared of marginalized teenagers to be honest. Its different from birds though…teenagers are much more beautiful face to face, one on one, if you dare get close enough.

Dancing Cousins

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Little mimics big and they dance like no one is looking but I can’t stop. These little women, full of grace. This one of mine with each step a dance, each word a song, she makes music in my heart…

They concentrate and they squeeze every bit of bliss from this dance. It goes on and on and on and the joy keeps getting bigger and bigger.

Oh to embrace each moment just like this…to be fully alive, fully engaged, fully present. To partake of each of the blessings as I’m in the midst of them. No straining forward no reaching back, no questioning myself or feeling shame for this much joy.

No…today I make room for gratitude for the moment…and the joy goes on and on.

574) First ‘ribbit’ of the season

575) Kites flying

576) Throwing rocks in a creek

577) Bikes. I prefer the types without motors but how can I resist how excited he is? He has his learners liscence…any spare prayers you got kicking around are appreciated.

578) Evening visitors

579) Spring flowers on my window ledge

580) Sunshine

581) Sunshine  in little curls

582) Ending the day with city lights…They’ve been hard to see this long, cloudy winter!

Country Chronicles: Perfectly Kept House is the Sign of A Misspent Life

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The later of the title is a message to myself not to you. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not have opportunity to be inside my house again until next fall. So, should you happen to stop by our place, chances are good we will entertain you outside and possibly make you pee in the woods. Not really.

This morning by 7:55 my son was in the newly constructed sandbox. This is exactly twelve hours from when he last played outside.

It is still cold here, but he is unstoppable and honestly I feel the same. We are EAGER to say the least to make outside home too. J and I lugged all the kids stuff up to what will soon be the kids area (it still needs to be organized).

In the background there is the old animal shed that we are converting to a play house for them. Owen and I also filled the bird feeder that Pappa Todd brought for us and little boy had to be held back from running back in the house to wake daddy (who was up all night with a sick baby girl) to hang the new bird houses and feeder.

We also hit the jack pot in regards to resourcing our adventures in being nature enthusiasts at the used bookstore yesterday. National Audubon Society guides to North American trees, bugs and wildflowers. My brother bought me the Field Guide to the Night Sky a few years ago so now I feel like we have a perfect little selection for up here! I couldn’t resist the bird book either as it was the same one I remember being around mom and dads when I was a girl. Happily I also got a great deal on the next book club selection!

We also started our nature guide. We are keeping track of all the plants we identify in it. So far, we’ve only identified a mullein and pussy willows.

O took his ‘big mullein’ to preschool for show and tell and thoroughly impressed his teacher. We picked the pussy willows for our Easter Tree.

Anyways…we better get back outside. We just came in to get E dressed and ready to rock the day. We don’t want to waste any sunshine because… gulp… gasp… the forecast looks a bit gross again for next week.

Happy trails friends!

Women Folk

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Do your little bit of good where you are;

it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.

– Desmond Tutu


There is a girl who lives at my house now. She isn’t a baby anymore and she is all girl and she sparks to see the reflection in her daddy’s eyes. She is passion and joy this one and strong like an oak tree. I wish I could create a bubble that she can live in so that it would all stay in her heart and not drift off into a world that will break it.

I can’t though. She is here now and she is on this same earth that does bad things to little girls. Even this country, very likely the best to be girl, is selling our daughters to very low bidders. (the following doc is 45 minutes but should you have the time…it might rock your world)

And I am only this woman with big dreams and the woman who can’t pass by a broken down car without stopping and if I do I feel guilty. Boundaries are not my strong suit and if there is opportunity to get my life all mixed up with yours I will try to do it. I carry burdens heavy some days and the only thing that helps is to take my heart in my hands and to do small things. Bake you a cake. Buy you coffee. Marinate you a steak. Clasp hands together in prayer…

And some days it feels like mistake to read the things I do, to watch the things I do. I wish I wasn’t the Captain of the Worst Case Scenario Ship and wish I didn’t always seem to have ‘just heard about that shockingly ugly thing’. But I can’t seem to close my eyes especially not while this little girl who trails behind me has to live around here. I will keep doing small things, keeping my hands busy and my heart soft because this is the way that we find our way to real life. This is the only way I know to try to build a bubble…because the only way to protect her heart is to change the world it lives in.

Giving Circle is heating up around here friends. Join us if you are near. Email if you are far and I will set you up with all the resources to gather women in your home to put hands out to others near and far that are looking for partners in justice. Partners in turning this world upside down. Partners in bringing the ever upside down kingdom closer to home.

(The links section of Giving Circle has been updated if you need to get inspired)

Linking with some bubble builders and story tellers at:

Circle Time

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My kids don’t sit still. Bedtime has been, most days, the only time the two will simultaneously submit to story-time. Rarely will my son willingly sit down at the table to do anything closely related to crafts, writing or colouring (unless of course I can somehow involve construction…then he will sit for longer periods). Yesterday we slept through preschool (I know it sounds wonderful but it was only because of a strange night of less sleep than newborn phase!).

Anyhooo…..I had it in my head that we would make up for skipping school with our own version so I called them to circle time. My son called me ‘teacher’ and put his imaginary carpet square down and ran to find his show and tell. They sat on the rug for forty-five minutes while we did finger plays, songs, stories and a teaching time about letters. We proceeded to the kitchen table for play dough time which my son participated in until he said “Teacher Melissa, can we please have free time?”

It happened again today. North American animals, a bible study, two songs followed by a dance party.

So lesson learned…All I need to do to get my children to cooperate is pretend I am someone else.

I’ve been on the prowl for some interesting learning links as I prepare for next year. We’ve made the choice to hold O back one more year, but I really want to get the most of our year together.

Anyways…here are some interesting articles/links that have been fun for planning :

An article that helped me decide I felt good about waiting for a year

Does ordering this book make me a hippy?

Preschool and Kindergarten Learning Activities

We are doing this April Calender too!

Brain Food
Hey friends…Michelle Marie in particular…Are there any good website that you would recommend? Creative, fun, nature activities? Love to hear thoughts!

lt;center>so much shouting, so much laughter

When you forget an alarm…

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It was one of those nights. I hear little girl whimper from the basement “mommy, I wanna snuggle you!” and how can I resist? And so we sit and we sing and she pulls  up her sleeve and says “here you go mommy” as if presenting forearm for skin tickles is a gift to me. It can be you know. Though my head is heavy with 2 am weariness, though I am frustrated with tough child rearing phase. When I could really use a solid eight to recover from a day of pushing and shoving. We are three songs deep when little boy hears lullabies as invitation and stumbles into bed with us. The three of us, curled in bed soft skin all tangled up with mine and I sense this as gift. Two hours later, boy still getting up, back to school nerves all over his thoughts I am sure, it is a little harder to see…

Even harder when we finally get everyone settled down to sleep and neglect to wake in time for first day back to school. Harder still when little girl wakes with angry and heart full of intense.

I want to tuck myself away and hide for a few minutes. Just until coffee starts taking effect. Just until little people get their blood sugar levels up to normal. Just until…

Only when our eyes are wide to blessings do we see them. Only when we fully engage in the moment. Only when we open our hands to grasp it all as gifts and love letters can we truly unwrap it. This is the real ‘until’ we are looking for.

So we sit on the floor. I become teacher and we try to make up for preschool lost with finger plays and show and tell. We engage fully in each other and even potato scrubbing while little voices drift to me from the other room is a gift. Gift. Everywhere. Gift.

556) Clean sheets

557) Nights out with friends

558) A week off with husband

559) baby soft skin

560) Forearms to tickle

561) Little boys to hold in darkest night

562) A bed big enough to hold us all

563) That moment just before I fell asleep when I realized they both were finally settled

564) Coffee…cup after cup

565) Walks with family

566) Watching E eat a huge ice cream cone (and making a serious dent)

567) Red Winged Blackbirds and bays full of ducks

568) New little friends to ride bikes with

569) Herbs De Provence in crock pot stew…smells good already

570) Play dough

571) Super Hero Play

572) Quiet play…

573) A few moments to read…moments VERY well spent.

Back to the trenches friends! Hope your hands are open to gifts today…so much better than clenching in fear or anger!