Friday, September 24, 2010

The whirlwind of this new season.

Where to begin?
Oh this month has been a rush of special events and focus mingled with squirrelling away time on the computer to avoid work. In the midst of feeling overwhelmed with all our responsibilities and sad about our friend Jeremy, I, Jeany, took to playing a video game. That's right. Sometimes I play my video game "Cradle of Rome" instead of doing a difficult task. I am ashamed, and then I just enjoy it. There's a genuine feeling of accomplishment (albeit short lived) that comes from winning the next level. I suppose it's the one thing I can quickly succeed at.
But in between bouts on the computer, I did start teaching classes, I did make over 200 cookies and sell them (all!) at 15 minutes of Fame -where I also got to hear Dave open the show, Donovan and Weston and fellow Buds of Rose perform, and sing a bit myself by the end of the night. I did have a special time with Karla and Gary Adolphe and little Hudson, I did have a great visit with the Eliuk's on their property south of town, and I did help organize the annual Snider obstacle course for the amazing race in Rosebud to initiate the new students.
Also, Dave and I celebrated our 17th anniversary over the whole weekend by attending a fun dinner with friends (Lindsey, Nate, Kelsey, Bill and Rentia) at the Merc. (which was great because we usually go on our own) and then got to see a lovely piece of theatre by South African playwright Athol Fugard: The Road to Mecca (opening night.) I was very proud of my student and friend Alysa van Haastert. She was stunning and capable and I was intrigued and moved by all three performers and couldn't take my eyes of Morris' evocative set with all it's sparkles, candles and hidden imagery. So blessed.
Then a rush of homemaking came upon me (probably as a way of nesting before the new routine) and I made a large batch of whole wheat bread, homemade carrot-vegetable soup "whole-ly" natural, and roasted granola with whole pecans.
Weston and Donovan attended a birthday party here in town and I helped with the food there too.
Weston could not get enough of apple bobbing. This little guy LOVES apples and dunked his head in that frigid water again and again, even after others were done and chunks were floating, he was not deterred. He must have munched down five apples. --No wonder he didn't want much dinner.
Before we left for Vancouver on Monday, there was the annual awards ceremony for RSA students at the opera house on Sunday and I had volunteered to decorate. I wasn't sure how it was going to work out, but thankfully Jerod hung the RSA banners (which are rust and slate blue of all colors) and I found time to bust into Drum to buy some sunflowers, delphiniums and roses. The rest of the bouquets were made up of Renita and Dave's sunflowers and leaves and wild bushes here in Rosebud. I was pretty pleased in the end. I had three vases like the one pictured here in front of the podium, but it was all by God's grace. That morning I had woken up dizzy; the room was moving more than it should in my vision and I couldn't shake it. I felt a little nauseous but plunked on. Dave helped a bit, which was great. I believe it was the stress of the upcoming journey to Jer's service and all that needed to happen before then. Nonetheless, I made it to the theatre with all my flowers and just.. started... putting them together. I found places to tuck them around the screen and even little bits of banner material to wrap the base. It took a lot of time and concentration to finish the job down to cleaning the last bit of debris in the backstage area, but I finished just in time to make it to church (where I couldn't really stand or sing the last hymn because I was silently weeping.) A large outpouring of sadness came then, once my responsibilities were done, and I wept. I don't like that Jeremy is gone. When I think of Anita and the kids, I can't think of one good reason for it. Right now anyway.
We're all a bit out of sorts, even though we're keeping on. The boys are finding some solace in their Star Wars Legos and have actually played quite peacefully with one another.
Maybe that's partly why I've been playing my game. It's safe and comforting in it's constancy. It's not likely to die on me or evaluate how well I'm doing at my job.
After we got back from Vancouver on Monday night, I drove the boys to school and hour late because they needed the extra rest. --We all did.
As I drove up out of Drum I turned on the stereo and the heard the opening of "Where the Streets Have No Name" by U2. I began to howl out my grief. I was gasping and crying, and then trying to shake the tears out of my eyes so I could drive straight, but it was a huge release. I surprised myself with the depth of my howls and cries. So much came out of me. Then, (and this has happened before, believe it or not), my safety belt tightened on my chair adjuster buttons as the van drove the steep pitch of the hill up out of town and suddenly the chair starts tilting BACKWARD and I'm being pulled away from the wheel! I yelled (and swore, sorry) and then I had to laugh and laugh.
Here in the middle of my passionate primal howling, was something so ludicrous, I had to laugh. And then cry. And then laugh some more.
And then I probably farted and snorted.
And laughed and cried some more.
Isn't it strange that I waited until the safety and quiet of driving alone along Highway 9 in rural Alberta, along fields of wheat WAITING for the heat -- hanging on, but risking cold nights and mornings-- to finally give voice to my deep feelings of loss?
I'm still grieving off and on here at home.
Still waiting like the crops for a final blessing.
God is not early. As usual.
But I bet there's a silver lining for all of us soon.
Thankfully, I conquered the last level last night.
(Ah... of my game that is.)
And I believe I am now done with it.

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