Here follows an excerpt from a fictional piece of writing of mine, an effort trying to express what my heart transformation would look like if it had happened in a single moment, and not over time. Pretend you’re listening with this girl to another sermon, but this one falls on her heart quite differently. “It’s only a verse or two in the book of Matthew, but Jesus mentions this pearl of great value that was bought at a great price.

The Nativity

{reflections on the Christmas story, to the tune of The Holly and The Ivy} The holly and the ivy When they are both full grown Of all trees that are in the wood The holly bears the crown {The Crown} Was it easy, hiding away in a manger? Were there really sound sleeps amid the pang and blood of birth? How does the crown, the Creator of the universe, wrestle himself into a tiny, breakable, fragile, flawed, aching body?

The Path

The Path, It beckons. It whispers to one who listens. It shines for those who look. It calls to the one who passes by. If you’re brave, you can hear it. The melody of freedom. The sound is far away, but the gate is close, and closed. Will you open it? What way will you choose? How hard it is to remain in the moment when it feels different than we planned.

Climbing Trees

Do you remember the joy of climbing a tree as a child? The victory of your ascent with each higher branch, the view above and feeling the breeze with the leaves? Did you ever meet a bird or a squirrel in their lofty domain? Did the sun shine through dancing layers of green and did your fingers get sticky from syrupy goo on the trunk? Maybe you scratched your hands and knees getting up.


Clouds are murky things. When they touch the ground, the ominous become animosity and suddenly you are surrounded by fog. Fog is a scary thing. It makes you question everything you ever thought was real. Your eyes deceive you. Your hands are hidden in front of you. The busy sidewalk becomes a warzone. You bump into a fire hydrant and injure your leg, hardly missing walking onto the road and getting hit by a double decker bus.


I never understood how people struggled with depression. How could they be so incapacitated? UNABLE to face the world. UNWILLING to leave the safety of a dark room or the privacy of the shower. UNSTABLE and UNPREDICTABLE and altogether UNIMAGINABLE for sparkling, serene and superhero-mom-me. UNDERSTANDING now has a name. Postpartum depression.* It’s like walking around with an ocean of tears in my chest. Just because they aren’t falling doesn’t mean their weight isn’t soaking me in wave upon battering wave.


Toxins are funny things. They are bad things. It’s a curse word in the natural aisle of the grocery store and the target of many marketing ploys from the health nuts to the masses. Toxins stop your body and organs and cells from doing whatever they’re meant to do. Toxins clog and block and contaminate. At least, I think so. I don’t think my grade twelve biology tests prepared me for the fear the marketplace could use by streaming un-understandable scientific and biological information with all the dignity of a horror movie.

Hallelujah Facesmushers

Last year my husband and I took the kids to the mall to walk around and use up the scary hour before dinner. It was Christmas time and we wandered, the toddler eating a fig bar and the baby chomping toothlessly away on a brightly coloured sea creature attached to his carseat. And I had an epiphany. Wife: oh wow! You walking through the food court is just like me in Sephora!

Fake news

BREAKING NEWS September 17, 2018 // 10:34 AM // UPDATED 3 HOURS AGO CANADA (UPDATEDNEWSAPP) - SCIENTISTS DISCOVER THAT EVERYTHING ISN’T ABOUT YOU, IT’S REALLY ABOUT ME. Have you ever had a politician show up at your door during election time? Did you notice their wet shoes, because they’d been walking for hours in the rain? Did you notice the dampness of the brochure they hand to you? It’s called hitting the pavement for a reason, and usually the season likes to make things difficult.

So, Jesus Comes

It’s the beginning and end of the story. Twenty years ago my parents divorced. Isn’t it funny how you remember certain things from your childhood with frightening clarity? Isn’t it frightening how you can’t remember certain things from your childhood? I remember feeling confused, in my ten year old heart. I remember feeling surprised. My world was falling apart around me, and I had lived on a childish bed of cotton candy.


It had been been a long night. After waking up, we immediately had a tense moment. He’s trying to shower and get ready for work, the toddler is whining about juice even though he already had some, and I’m nursing and haven’t eaten or gone to the bathroom and I’m starving and have been breastfeeding all night. Then he mentions something about how we’re both tired. So I instantly complain in a whiny, jealous voice:

The Crown Jewels

Unless you live under a rock, or beside a really big rock that prevents any invisible internet connection to the wider world, then you probably know about the upcoming royal wedding. Because my belief in my own princess status still persists, I am especially excited! Who can resist the pomp and circumstance of it all? Not me. And in my opinion, the only question that really matters is: what tiara will she wear?

The Trouble With Canoes

Have you ever been canoeing on a small lake in the early afternoon? The great outdoors feels like a small, quiet hideaway, where the trees bend over to block the shore and you keep your eyes open for black bears. The birds sing quietly; there are flies, but even they can’t take away the bliss. Have you ever stopped paddling in the stillness and trailed your hands through the water, fingertips skimming the cool surface on a hot midsummer day?

Twilight: A book review

“Oh no! I thought this was so over, and I totally exhausted myself pretending to everyone like I hadn’t read it. So embarrassing. (Team Jacob all the way!!!)” “Oh no! I thought this was so over, and I totally exhausted myself trying to avoid it. So cringy.” “Wait, what? Isn’t this a Christian website?” Chances are that you fall into one of these camps. Haters gonna hate people! Step one out of denial: I’ll admit I fall into the first bunch.

I don't know how to be an adult

The world is a difficult place. At least that’s what I tell my two year old. Innumerable times a day his will is thwarted. Epic whining ensues. Shakespearean tragedy for him, comedy gold for me. Put the rejected spaceship water bottle in the sink, give back said bottle, have it thrown at the baby, have a time out, say sorry to baby brother, whine about being thirsty, want baby special cup.

What I wish I could say

(The purpose of this reflection is not to offend or blame anyone, but to truthfully share my inner feelings in a heartfelt and hurting moment.) My brother said something once that I never forgot. I had likely been talking about a Disney movie I loved and how much I wanted to be a princess and wear a crown, and I called myself childish. He was so quick to correct me. He admonished me never to belittle the things that brought joy and laughter and imagination.

Keep Mama Safe

I love tea. I should have said that in my biography, but it was so obvious that I forgot. There is nothing like it. To me it is everything warm, comforting and routine. Never underestimate small things. That’s what I learnt today. The freezer door wouldn’t close and I’d been up since 5am. On a normal day this complication would bring me near tears because I handle lack of sleep as well as my baby.

Five Thousand Year Old Fads and Food Sources

The moment I really knew I had arrived was around 6pm in the bath with my two boys. My hair hadn’t touched water for washing for so many days and I was desperate to feel less grimy. As I swished my hair in the water, with a toddler clambering around splashing my eyes, I vowed that if anyone asked how my hair was so beautiful or full or curly or whatever, I would tell them the truth.