Fishing...by hand

I secretly plotted to have months in Canada during a warm and sunny season...so really with snow in May and a cool May long I have nothing left to do but laugh at myself.

This weekend I headed into "the bush" where I lost my favourite radio station 540AM...no jeering necessary friends, and came out to beautiful Flin Flon, MB. It's truly breath-taking to behold so many pristine lakes and forests.

Now many lakes are still, quite frozen but alas, the rivers are not. And that is where I went fishing...with my hand!

Yes, the rivers are so packed full of fish(suckers, a necessary evil)that one could walk across the river on them. The surface is lined with their tails. So...you just reach in and grab. Grab hard mind you, 'cuz those suckers can move fast.

I screamed watching others but finally took Eleanor Roosevelt's great advice which I mostly misuse, "Do something that scares you everyday."

Gently I lowered my hand into ice-cold water and harshly grabbed a fish. I felt three years old again, screaming into every lower, evil vocal range possible as I used all my force to hold on. It got away.

A HUGE rush of adrenalin came through me.

So gross and slimy and unbelievably...let me try that again.

Thanks to the great north for the experience.

Plan A or Plan....A

I've thought more than several times that I would gather my ¨great insights¨ of single missionary life in a fun book. I'd want to share the intoxicating joy I feel and would sneak in a few unplugged chapters on challenges too.

Of course, that was before this Sunday when I preached on The Bible and Being Single. It was like a piece of art that I kinda' smiled at and fought with and finally set the paintbrush down on. At the end of the day, I realized that when talking about marriage or not we were in effect discussing plan a or plan...a.

Yeah, both good. Both full of challenges. And really, both best lived seeking Jesus in season and out.

Hmmmm... The book is going to have to wait.

Ol' Boys

¨I'd like to have all boys,¨ I found myself thinking yesterday. That was until I entered the all-boys van and smelt the power of having fun for seven hours at camp.

Inside the grown-up me a large part of the little-me still really enjoys laughing at farting stories, imagining dynamite at her greatest potential and living the open conflict of a punch in the shoulder (the little girl in me, stops there).

At one point in the day I lost two young youth on a mountain climb...no biggie, right? While then I start worrying and then we're getting ready to leave and then... here comes two happy-go-lucky boys covered in dirt running towards our soccer game.

My hands were on my hips and they knew what awaited them, yet my tom-boy heart won yet again. With adventure waiting around the corner, rocks to be scaled and stories to be imagined about the forrest monsters, how could one resist?

Make no mistake, I still dished out a stern warning but as our lively van drove away I keep staring at that mountain wondering what adventures were waiting to be discovered.

Christ is come!

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