I’m making a list. I’m checking it twice. And it’s very possible I’ll be checking it thrice. I cannot function without lists. Sometimes even making a list is on my list. I put everything on my lists because I love crossing things off my list. It makes me feel extremely accomplished. So I will put such things as take shower, brush teeth and eat breakfast on my list because I know I’m going to do that and then I can cross things off my list right away. Whether it’s a daily todo list or a packing list or a grocery list or a shopping list or a budget, I must have my lists. Last Christmas, I forgot to put ‘passport’ on my packing list. Huge faux pas.

Somehow writing things down on a list takes away a lot of stress for me. Just getting it out of my head and onto a tangible piece of paper settles my mind. When my head is swirling with oodles of things I need to do or get or remember, I am unsettled because I know I’ll forget something vital and that causes anxiety . But as soon as I put all those important ‘not to forgets’ down on paper (or on computer) I feel a release of tension and a calm comes over me. Yes I still have to do all those things but they appear much more manageable and likeable when I see them in hard ink. I am then free to think about frivolous things, day dream, move onto other issues and deal with them or enter into a meaningful conversation with someone once I have cleared my mind. Even God keeps lists so I’m in good company. Malachi 3:16 Then those whose lives honored God got together and talked it over. God saw what they were doing and listened in. A book was opened in God’s presence and minutes were taken of the meeting, with the names of the God-fearers written down, all the names of those who honored God’s name.

My favorite format for lists is the excel spreadsheet. I believe I picked up this idea from the office controller three jobs ago. He had me handling payroll, benefits, accounts receivables and payables and he explained to me how excel was my new best friend. And he had a point. So I have my budget on excel. I have my daytimer on excel. I have my baking obligations on excel. I have an ongoing grocery list on excel. I love the calculating function of excel. When those interviewers ask if I’m proficient in excel, I tell them’ excel is my life!’

Journaling, daily or often, is another format that brings me great peace. When I’m confused or in a conondrum or just getting overwhelmed by life I put pen to paper and begin to write. All those ideas and problems and possibilities flow out of my conscious and onto paper and as I write and reread, very often clarity comes. I start writing out the answers to my own questions. I know these answers are not coming from my brain. I know God speaks to me through journaling. It’s the craziest thing. All of a sudden I am writing down ideas and thoughts that make so much sense and that never entered my mind five minutes prior.

Journaling also feels like talking to someone, only I write out both sides of the conversation. It’s very cathartic. Also writing down thoughts and ideas as I have them ensures I won’t forget these things. AND there is something about going back and reading my journals that reminds me how I felt when I wrote that entry and what has happened since…. has it been growth or stagnation?

Often I reread a journal from a few years ago and realize that I’m still dealing with the same issue. Yikes. Other times I’ll notice that I’ve overcome that issue or those feelings and realize I am indeed making progress. As I read, I get to know myself better.

The writing has a purpose and a peace and the reading has a purpose and a revelation. If life is getting out of control I sit down and write or make a list and everything feels more manageable. A beautiful journal and a smooth non smudgy pen are my best friends. Journaling is writing practice at the least and and healing at the best. Telling my story makes me feel like an author even if I’m the only one reading it.

I often refer to myself as an aspiring writer when in fact I’ve already written several books. They may not be read by the masses but all those words and thoughts and stories have come from my own pen. There is a lot of living between those pages and there’s something very gratifying about that.

Time to go make a list.

Yesterday afternoon we attended Theatre Calgary’s ‘A Christmas Carol’.  I had my doubts going in but it turned out to be ‘true to its word and infinitely more’ as we were captivated by the seasoned actor that played Scrooge and were mesmerized by the sets, costumes and music.  A very old tale with a very relevant, timely, urgent message.

”Twas 3 weeks before Christmas and all thru the airport not a creature was stirring except mike and Geri stewart.
They picked out their couches for sleeping with care, in hopes by tomorrow they soon would be there.
While visions of beaches and sand filled their heads, their major concern was to find better beds.
With my feet on the table and purse on my lap I’d just settled down for a pre-Kona nap.
When deep in my dreams my teeth started to chatter and I bolted upright wondering what was the matter.
When what to my wondering eyes did appear? I’d forgotten my passport and broke out in a fear.
Mike raced home to get it, sweat washing his brow, while I lingered behind wondering how? How? How?
With a little old driver so lively and quick I knew in a moment I was going to be sick.
More rapid than eagles to the house Michael came and I’m sure at that point he started calling me names,
Back to the airport he came in a blur, and the United agent looked at him and said ‘so sorry sir’
She was angry and grumpy, not a jolly old elf, and I cried when I heard her inspite of myself.
So mike found a new agent and told him our tale, he was a much more accommodating male.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head soon led me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke very few words but went straight to his work, and in moments we had new boarding passes and smirks.
And I heard him exclaim as we walked out of sight… merry Christmas to all and to all a good flight.

Repost from December 2009

Another glorious wintery Christmasy morning. Those who live in Calgary have been blessed with the most amazing Fairy Winter Wonderland this past weekend. Oh I know there are many who are cursing the snow and the road conditions and the cold and the Christmas rush. They are madly passing each other in the malls with heads down and faces frowned, rudeness intact and totally consumed with everything that they “think” is expected of them and they are completely missing the wonder and beauty of this season we call Christmas. We call it Christmas because Christ is it’s foundation but I am not sure why the rest of the world calls it Christmas because for them it has nothing to do with Christ. Sad really…

As I drove to work this morning I was in awe of the way the snow has adorned the trees in true Aldo accessories fashion. The bling on those trees rivaled anything I have seen in Calgary Jewellers commercials (I say commercials because I have never had any need to cross the threshhold of this particular store). And as I made my way along Elbow drive in the early morning shadows of night, many residents still had their Christmas lights on. This section of town is famous for its historic homes and quaint verandas, fences, gates. The yards are mature enough to have flourishing, tall trees – evergreen and deciduous- all covered with fresh and heavy snow…many with lights gleaming through the branches. What do I care if traffic is slow and mangled – I am sitting inside of my blessed car listening to Michael W. Smith’s new Christmas album and being blessed by the music and words and sipping once again, on my Grande ExtraHot Soy Tazo Chai. I have the heat pumping into the cozy cavern and there are cinnamon scented pinecones underneath my seat…and when the heat saturates them the aroma fills the air (much superior to those silly little pine scented mirror trees that smell like a camp washroom that has just been cleaned with pinesol). I don’t care how long it takes to get to work…I will get there. If I am late I’ll make up for it on my noon hour – it will have been worth the drive. As I drive I think about the fact that my son is coming home from university tomorrow. I think about the dinner we are hosting for dear friends that are going away for Christmas. I think about another set of new friends we are meeting for breakfast on the weekend. I think of my husbands two office parties we will be attending and the Christmas music concert I will go to on the weekend and I am excited. I think about the goodness of God and His provision and protection and everything else seems secondary to this. This is how I enjoy the season. It is two weeks before Christmas and this is truly the best part of Christmas – the before. Don’t let it rush past unnoticed and unenjoyed and before you can say HO HO HO it’s Boxing Day madness and you have missed all the magic. The magic is not found in shopping malls (unless of course you just casually saunter down the halls enjoying the decorations and music with no particular panic or turmoil going on inside as I like to do) and in spending money that you are not sure where you are going to get. The magic is not found in honking your horn at the car in front of you in the parking lot so you can get to the next overcrowded part of the parking lot faster so you can honk at someone else who happens to be patiently waiting for a parking stall. The magic is not found in eating food high in calories and toxins and in such great abundance that you become extremely uncomfortable and sick. The magic is not found in staying up all night trying to outdo Martha Stewart and lowering your resistance to viruses in the air and becoming sick (Been there – done that. I speak from experience). Enjoy the magic..of God’s bounty, His nature and the relationships He has forged for you. Bless someone else this season and really understand and enjoy the magic. Make your goal not to buy the ultimate gift – the most creative, most expensive, most rare. Bless someone instead and give yourself the gift of joy.

I never cook a thing unless I’m wearing my red plaid apron. I made it a few years back out of some plaid taffeta I had kicking around and I made a tablecloth out of the remainder of the fabric. Therefore, from thanksgiving to easter I usually match the tablecloth. When I am hosting a dinner party or whatever, I usually wear basic black because it looks great with the red plaid taffetta. Very festive. It becomes my outfit for the evening. Rather like a scarf but I’d look pretty silly wearing a scarf to bake and cook and cleanup.

The best part is the big row of huge pockets that hem the lower 8 inches of the skirt. Deep, huge pockets for storing a phone, or a tissue or some werthers chewy carmels, a hair clip which is so often needed in the kitchen, a grocery list, the jewelry I take off when I mix pastry or some money that I forget about and find months later. I dance around the kitchen like I’d won the lottery for a $5 bill.

I’ve ruined many an outfit in my day by working in the kitchen without an apron so my favorite apron goes on every single time now that I’m older and wiser. It washes like a damn too. There is just something about my apron. It makes me feel so Martha Stewartish. Interestingly enough my last name IS Stewart and my apron is the Stewart plaid. I really need a new or another apron and I have miles of fabric in the basement but….this plaid. I am very temped to cut up the tablecloth to make another apron.

Oh the delectable delights I have made in my red plaid apron. I’ve made croissants, macarons, croque Monsieur, homemade pasta, pies, tarts, all sorts of cookies and loafs. Macaroons, stir fry, chicken pot pie, salmon wellington, souffle, Whole 30 fare, Daniel plan recipes, WW recipes, gingerbread houses and cakes. I’ve made cakes and cupcakes and butter cream icing as topping. I’ve made risotto with wine and mushrooms. I’ve made soups and bread. I’ve made cinnamon buns and Yorkshire pudding.

Most of the time I’m just Geri or mom or honey or darling daughter ( as my mom so affectionately calls me), but when that red plaid apron goes on I may as well be the Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. Something transpires when I’m in my red plaid apron and I start feeling I’m invincible in the kitchen, my favorite room in the house. Especially in this new house. It’s like my kitchen is the bridge of a great ship and from that bridge I can see everyone that comes or goes. I can survey the entire main floor and do not feel in any way confined. My kitchen bridge is where everyone yells as they come in the door ‘what can I eat?’ The bridge is where I lovingly provide sustenance for my family.

Very often it seems like I am the only one that can cook around here. I often dream what it would be like to come home and someone has prepared a full meal of my favorite things. Just to eat something made by someone else. If that is such a dream to me how special it must feel when my family or friends come over and I have prepared something nostalgic, comforting and nutritious just for them? I love to do this. Cooking for others. Providing good food and fellowship – this is what my red plaid apron enables me to do.

A house full of hungry, grateful people is my dream. I feel especially blessed when they sit up to my red plaid tablecloth and the bridge gets eerily quiet as everyone becomes too busy in the business of eating and savouring to speak. There will be plenty of time for talk when the food is enjoyed and sustenance provided. First things first.

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Christmas is no respector of persons. It comes and goes no matter what journey you are on. It doesn’t care if your struggling. It’s not sensitive to your sorrow. It’s doesn’t empathize with your depression or anxiety. It pressures you to spend even if you’re skint. It taunts you to eat sugar and other junk when you’re trying to take care of your health. Its superficial, upbeat, happiness is an intruder in your cardboard box shelter under the train tracks. Of course I’m talking about the worlds shallow, materialistic, misguided Christmas. The one that’s now called Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas.

Make no mistake, true Christmas recognizes your struggle, your journey and your situation all too well. In fact that is what true Christmas is all about. I mean, the way we believers in Christ are supposed to celebrate Christmas is totally about keeping Christ in Christmas because He is what it is all about. And Christ recognizes our journey and our situation all too well. In fact that is why He came to earth in a manger in the first place…so He could identify with us and be with us. Emmanuel means God with us. Mankind had been waiting for the arrival of a saviour….well….forever. Oddly, when He arrived they didn’t even recognize Him. But He became flesh so He could become acquainted with grief. So He could know our sorrows. So He could dwell among us. And He surely did and does.

That first Christmas was not glamourous at all. There were no magical, twinkling or spectacular light displays to ooh and awe at. Spruce Meadows hadn’t been built yet. There were no shopping malls for the three kings to stop and pick up some Black Friday gift deals for the baby (or themselves) on the way to see the baby. No Christmas markets brimming with thoughtful, unique homemade treasures or real reindeer on display.  I’m pretty sure nothing is mentioned about bringing presents for Mary and Joseph. Maybe that’s where we got the notion that Christmas is for children. Im sure the shepherds didn’t go out and purchase a new and spectacular outfit to be seen in. The kings most likely didn’t have their perfume gift wrapped. And nobody considered stopping at Starbucks for a Peppermint mocha latte for the long journey. I’m sure they passed oodles of trees without even one thought of decking them with tinsel and ornaments. And when they arrived at the humble stable with no decorations or christmas baking for their holiday enjoyment they were not phased at all because…This wasn’t and isn’t what it was all about.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have drunk the worlds Christmas kool-aid. I absolutely love the way we do Christmas these days. I love all of it. I love the lights and thank people (in my head) for putting them up as I drive by. Some of the commercial light displays bring me to tears the first time I see them. There is nothing that brings me more joy than sauntering through the beautifully decorated mall with a Starbucks in hand quietly singing along and shazaming the Christmas tunes playing over the intercom. True confessions: I was among the crackpots that were incensed when Starbucks quit the beautiful red cups. I’m over it! I heard my husband call my Christmas decorating ‘over the top’ when someone came to the door the other night and they commented about my decor. It was favourable btw. And it just isn’t Christmas unless I have one new glitzy garment to wear to all the parties. However this year there is only one party due to tough economic times and unemployment.

This is the first year for a very long time that I can remember, that I haven’t been working. Financially, it’s cramping my style but I’m learning a new way to do Christmas. Using my unemployed days doing other people’s Christmas baking for a fee. And just settling for less and realizing I’m content with what I have. Which really isn’t a sacrifice at all because I have been so blessed. I’ve gotten quite accomplished at blessing myself. I want to try something new. Letting God bless me and using what I have to bless others.

I know a lot of people, just in my circle of friends and influence, that are not so joyous this Christmas as they stare down the barrel of loneliness and separation, illness and impending sorrow, financial struggles, broken relationships and addictions. These realities are closer to that first Christmas than we realize. As soon as the their baby was born outside in a filthy manger,  Mary and Joseph had to flee the country to get Jesus to safety as the King at the time was executing all baby boys because he felt threatened by King Jesus. The stress and fear.  Never mind the social rejection and discrimination that Mary and Joesph suffered because of their divine circumstances. Nobody really ‘got it’. And very often we don’t either.

While it’s perfectly ok to celebrate Christmas in the manner our culture dictates, let’s not get bogged down in the materialistic trappings and totally forget the realities of those less joyous than we. Let’s be Christmas for others. Let’s bring Christ to them and extend his love and understanding. We can do that as believers. In fact we are required to do that.

In my heart of hearts, Christmas has always been about being with those I love the most. There is nothing like family. The family we didn’t choose and the family we did choose. Beyond the gifts, the twinkle lights, the decorations, the delicacies, the music, the parties.. there is family. Family and friends that are like family. I can live without the fluff but I can’t live without these people or Christ’s love. Under one roof, here for each other, sharing, loving, blessing, commiserating, encouraging, praying, supporting. This is Christmas!

God bless us everyone!

I drove past an ornamental snowman in someone’s yard this morning and it made me cry. Why you might ask? Well it’s because last New Year’s Eve, Lexie and Andrew and I, after midnight, when all was quiet, cold, and snowy and everyones Christmas lights were still on, went for a little walk in the neighborhood. Andrew was going back to Vancouver in a few days and we were trying to savor him. I remember both kids being dressed up like eskimos and their silhouettes stood ominous in the light of the street lamp. We had to plow through calf high drifts just to get off the driveway. Just on the next block to our house we came upon that same snowman and I took a picture of him. In fact, a video, because he was surrounded by moving lights and it was so beautiful and magical. And even though all was not perfect in our life, for that one moment in time, it felt like it was. It was a silent night, a holy night and a gloria in excelcious deo night because I was with my family enjoying this moment in time. My saner husband was at home in bed where it was warm and snuggly but I was out in the cold, snowy, quiet, beautiful middle of the night with my two adult kids.

There have been other perfect moments in time. Such as the night this summer when the kids and I lay on my aunts dock on the lake at midnight and picked out constellations and watched for falling stars as the waves rocked the dock up and down. A warm balmy night as we watched the lights from the cabins across the lake and listened to families talk and laugh on other docks. The night sky and water so clear that the stars were reflected in the lake. Once again, mike had retired for the evening but there I was etching this memory into my heart and soul. Once again, all was not perfect in life, but for that moment in time, it was.

I usually catalogue these moments in my mind to remind myself, when things seem far from perfect and we are tough slogging it, that I have had, we have had, experiences of perfection. Taking the family to Hawaii, volunteering at Samaritans Purse together, Easter and thanksgiving in Vancouver just to be with the kids. Taking Andrew to University as a family and getting everything he needed for the year from Walmart and IKEA, then bringing it back to the dorms to set up. The cop stopping us on the Coquihalla for speeding in our rental car. Christmas mornings. Getaways to our friends cottage in the middle of winter, sitting around the fireplace, watching movies. Impromptu car rides to Starbucks just before closing, on a hot July evening, with the windows wide open and the music blaring, and flip flops on our feet, laughing at anything and everything.

Perfection for me is the four of us, together, anywhere, anytime, basking in our familyness. These precious, perfect moments in time remind me that it hasn’t all been hard, all the time. Because let’s face it, sometimes it feels like it has all been hard all of the time and when will we ever get to come up for air and feel the glorious sunshine of Gods favor on us again, or ever? These moments remind me that I have had it all, even if just for a moment in time. I am of all women most blessed. And she pondered all these things in her heart.
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