Osborn Fiber Studio

These reflective posts at or near the end of the month can help me notice when the character of life changes dramatically from one period of time to another. Last month, in January, I was enjoying the depths of winter in one of my favourite ways: by holing up and crafting and consuming as much media as possible. As enjoyable as this can be, it doesn’t cure the isolation and monotony that can creep into winter if I’m not very intentional. February forced a giant crowbar into my complacent routine.

Roundabout the middle of the month, after Jared had left a week earlier, the girls and I climbed into a plane bound due west for Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. There we had one of our wildest weeks to date: extreme cold causing frozen pipes, moving locations, and car issues; and holding on for dear life during a camp that tested the limits of every kind of spiritual, social, emotional, and physical endurance we possess.

It was really good. Change really is as good as a rest, sometimes. And sometimes you go on a retreat or something and you can detect the spiritual journey God has you on. Mine was one of realizing where my priorities had gotten a little out of whack, and understanding more deeply why.

I thought I was going one way with February: watching tons of Olympics, spinning like mad, carrying on from one thing to the next. Then my body said “NOPE!” My shoulders rebelled completely, constant pain preventing me from even knitting for almost a week. It was a stark reminder of how quickly abilities I take for granted can go away. Then the commitments we had made to spend a weekend loving teenagers, while managing the ever-present needs of our children, did something else. It reminded me of why we live here, why Jared and I chose this life of ministry in the North.

In the training meeting for the camp, the camp director said something that has been living in my head rent-free ever since. I don’t remember exactly how he put it, but it was something along the lines of loving people by showing that you enjoy being with them. Why was this so revelatory to me? I think that’s something I’ve always been bad at. I’m good at enjoying experiences, media, and material things. It’s part of why I can have a rich inner life even when quite isolated. But enjoying people is not quite as encoded into me. I can respond to other people doing it, but I’m less good at taking the lead. For this camp, I felt empowered to take risks – we only had a weekend, such a short time, why not put it all out there? I did, and for the most part it paid off in richly rewarding ways. Having a supportive team of counselors is a huge part of what made that possible.

In Yellowknife, we celebrated Stringbean’s 13th birthday. As my kids get older and closer to college, I’m reminded again that we have such a short time with them, and that the habits of phone use and media use get in the way of me showing them that I actually enjoy being around them. For some reason, that idea – show you enjoy them – has been the key to helping me understand how I can do a little better.

I think I was using media to escape, as an imaginary companion, a way to numb the quiet question always humming anxiously in the background. The break allowed me figure out what the question was, and how to start to address it. The question: am I alone? The real question: why do I feel alone? The answer: feel the loneliness, then go look someone in the eyes and be real. Ask questions, be interested, be honest. Enjoy the humans in your path. Reflect their inner worlds back to them. That was the push I needed.

Now we are back, and it is March. I am starting to spin again, slowly, a little more mindful of my limits. It seems like most of my day is taken up with dishes, food, and cleaning, because I want my home be a place where we can enjoy each other and aren’t constantly overwhelmed by our environment. We left on Ash Wednesday, and Lent is part of this calculation without any intention on my part.

This has all been made of grace. Friends and leaders invited us to Yellowknife, but God was inviting me to listen. To repent, reflect, and redirect. I was waiting on God for something else, asking for a particular ministry door to open, and this is what he provided instead. So, thanks God, for February. It took me by surprise, scrambled me up a bit, and spat me out happier.

How is your Lent going, dear reader?