It’s quite possible that I won’t be staying up into the wee hours of the morning reading, writing, pinning, baking, or watching movies any longer. I happen to have the first of two job interviews this week, tomorrow. It’s been so long that I’m a little rusty with the interview process. I may even be a little rusty with my administrative skills. Hopefully, like riding a bike, it’ll all come back to me once I’m back in the saddle. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to go to bed at 9:30 or 10:00 to wake up at 5:30 to get ready for work.

I’ve grown accustom to being the boss of me. I pretty much do what I want these days. I call the shots and set the schedule and plan the priorities. And it has been refreshing and relaxing. 9 months of unemployed bliss. Naturally, I’ve been fairly broke but I’ve even gotten used to that. I’ve realized what I can actually live without. The thought of going back to work is equally as scary and rattling as getting laid off was. I always knew in the back of my mind that I would have to be working once again at something. Too young and too much energy, too much financial need to retire yet. I knew it was coming. And now that I’m looking at the blessed prospect of working again…or maybe I should call it being gainfully employed ( since it’s not as if I haven’t been working my butt off during my sabbatical) and I’m getting nostalgic.

I have loved these past 9 months. I’ve walked about two hundred miles. I’ve baked about 100 pies and about 600 butter tarts. I’ve read oodles of books. I’ve purged and organized the entire house. I’ve spent many lovely mornings or afternoons lollygagging with girlfriends. I’ve spend precious time with my mom. I’ve learned frugality. I’ve slept in and had days with absolutely no agenda. These are the best. I’ve had a riot experimenting in the kitchen with all sorts of recipes, sweet, savory, challenging and fun. I’ve had time to pursue hobbies and yet there are still many things I just didn’t get around to.

Once again, I may be getting way ahead of myself. An interview is not a job offer. However, it is the first step. To get the position you must start with an interview. And I have two this week before Christmas, which is in and of itself, surreal. Two interviews with organizations that require a statement of faith to be signed (narrows the playing field). Two interviews where I was referred by people I know or I wouldn’t have known about the position. Maybe it’s true, it’s not what you know but who you know. And by ‘who’ I’m talking about knowing the creator of the universe personally.

Inspite of my nervousness, I am grateful for the opportunities. I believe I’m ready to go back to work. I’m actually ready to do whatever God has planned for me. I know if I’m doing what He has lead me to do and what He approves off everything will be fine. It will be better than fine. God’s best isn’t ‘just fine’, it’s incredible. So I’m ready for where He leads. If neither of these opportunities is meant to be then I know He still has a plan for me. Not to panic. Not to worry. Not to be disappointed. I will work again. And it will be at the exact right time and the exact right company with the exact right position. And it will be grand. In the meantime… it’s Christmas this week.

Twelve days before Christmas. Do you know where your Christmas spirit is?

I have always felt that people that are eagerly awaiting December 25 are missing the whole point. As children, I guess that’s the day the presents are received and opened and if you were waiting for one specific item that your dying to receive then that’s what it’s all about for you. Or if that’s the day your loved one or ones are arriving then I get that anticipation. But I, personally, feel Christmas is a season not a day. And if I put all my hope and joy into one day then I’ll be sadly disappointed when that 24 hours are over. Very often, I have found December 25 to be rather anti-climactical.

I have long felt that Christmas is the time preceding December 25th. The build up. The concerts. The parties. The shopping. The red cups. The music. The decorating. The lights. The wrapping. The charity. The baking. The preparations. Sitting by the fireplace enjoying the tree and lights. Driving around taking in everyone’s light displays. Skating on lake. Drinking hot chocolate. The mitts, toques and scarves. The Christmas oranges. A sleigh ride. Family together. Watching Christmas movies with popcorn. The advent services. The Christmas story. Christmas carolling. Games and puzzles.

I have been blessed my whole life – 60 years – that Christmas has always been like this for me. I mean truly and deeply blessed! Even as I write this, I’m sitting by my tree, in front of the fireplace listening to my favorite Christmas music with an over full belly, my whole family home and a nice warm bed to cozy up in shortly.

This Christmas I have something new added to my Christmas preparations…Two job interviews the week before Christmas. It seems odd but every other year I have actually been working and that didn’t feel odd. But really the whole ‘not working’ in December has felt rather odd. Maybe I’m getting a job for Christmas? Wouldn’t that be something? I am grateful that God has not forgotten my need just because it’s Christmas.

All this to say, that I’m endeavouring to enjoy these next 12 days to the full and live in the moment and not wish them away or hurry them up. I want to savor them. I’ll never have these 12 days again. Yes there are sad, painful things happening amongst those in my sphere of influence and amongst those with whom I have relationships and friendships but it’s all part of the moment and the season and the memories. Peace on earth, good will to men. Wouldn’t it be loverly?

We press on in this season of advent as we wait for the fulfillment of Gods promise in spite of circumstances. Christmas is a season of hope. It’s a season of charity. A season of peace and joy. Seek for this in the midst of your circumstances. Wise men still seek Him. Live these next 12 days on purpose – with purpose and and don’t let Christmas Day come and go while you are lost in a fog of stress and meaninglessness. Make this Christmas count and choose joy.
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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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