Green Grass & The War Against Pride

When Sterling and I built our new home, we picked the biggest, flattest lot in our neighborhood. I grew up with a big yard and it was perfect for soccer, football, field hockey and even the odd neighborhood baseball game (miraculously, no windows were broken!).  One of my biggest priorities was having a yard that would enable my kid(s) to replicate those same experiences. We even negotiated with our builder to include a backyard lawn in our sale.

Having a lawn is a lot of work. I should clarify: having a nice lawn that can handle little feet stomping back and forth, kicking a ball around is hard work. I have a moral dilemma any time I turn a sprinkler on. Water is such a precious resource and I’m using it for a green, invasive weed!?

But the memories that can be made! Plus we are looking at ways to implement water conservation practices.

I digress.

Those who know me well, know this backyard lawn has been the bane of my existence. We waited until the dry summer came to an end before seeding our first attempt at the lawn. It failed miserably despite much wasted water.

The second overseeding also failed.

Before I threw more water and time at the failed backyard, I consulted with the neighborhood grass specialist and he wisely recommended pouring lots of sand over the existing ‘lawn’ to start anew.

So we did. We buried that terrible excuse for a ‘lawn’ with two dump trucks full of beautiful sand. After working furiously to spread it all in the span of eight hours (so we could capitalize on the forecasted rain the next day), we joked that if our lawn didn’t work out, at least we’d have a nice beach.

It’s been two weeks and I’m pleased to say our lawn is starting to materialize.

As I’ve been toiling over this yard with Katie sleeping soundly on my back, I’ve had a lot of time to just think and lately those thoughts have been about pride and perspective.

Our yard is tiered. When I’m on the upper tier, looking down at the grass, I can’t help but notice all the bare patches, cat footprints, thinning spots, water pools...see exhibit A.

Any and every blemish or slight imperfection is so noticeable.

Then when I go down to the bottom of our yard and look up at the grass, all I see is lush, green grass. Our yard looks amazing! Good job little seedlings! I can only see how awesome it is.

The same grass looks so different just from those two perspectives.

It got me thinking about life. About looking at others. When we’re rocking at life, it can be easy to look at others who are struggling and think ‘well, look at those imperfections, of course life’s hard for them’. Or conversely, when things are a struggle, we can look at others and only see how awesome they’re doing. They’re doing so awesome up there, it’ll be impossible to match their awesomeness.

Either way, we’re wrong. When I look at those little grass seedlings up close, I see what they’re really made of. I think they’re perfect. As little as they may be. As far as they may be from the next little seedling. They’re perfect. They’re trying. Reaching for a ray of sun while sending their little roots through the sand to the firm foundation below (thanks clay).

Wherever we may be in life—up on the hill looking down, down below looking up, or somewhere in between, I hope we don’t get too caught up in the whole, skewed picture. Look a little closer. Its potential is perfect.

Whose fault is it anyways?

This week, in the city I currently call home, at least two lives were forever changed and an entire community took notice.

At around 6 a.m., a woman my age was running some trails when she was attacked from behind and sexually assaulted. Just six hours later, across town, a young woman was IN HER HOUSE when an apparent stranger barged into her home, bearing weapons and bad intentions, tied her up and viciously assaulted her physically, sexually, emotionally...and who knows how else.

In the second case, she screamed and fought and drew the attention and ire of a neighbor. A man named Bronson came to her rescue and fought off the attacker. Yes, damage had been done but neighbors held the creep until police were able to come arrest him. He had prior convictions in Ontario, even recently breaching probation and in his short time in Vancouver, had already caught the attention of the police.

Many things happen after cases like these. The good: communities band together, vying for change and solidarity. The bad: lives and hearts are forever tainted, physical and emotional wounds cut deep and leave scars. And the ugly: the blame game begins, fear festers and paranoia prevails.

In the first case, the 30-year-old woman fought off her attacker to no avail. She was helpless to his atrocious advances and disgusting deeds. He fled and so far, walks a free man, save for whatever evil nature binds him to his unthinkable appetites.

In the second case, the woman was assaulted but a good Samaritan came to her rescue and kept her from what could have been much worse.

Twitter allowed me to learn about these cases almost in real time. As someone’s life was irrevocably changed, I got a 140 character (or less) play-by-play.

About the early morning attack, one friend asked what that woman was doing running alone that early in the dark.

Comments like that commonly follow reports like this. Victim shaming? Victim blaming maybe? She shouldn’t have been wearing that. What was she thinking going to that place. Of course she shouldn’t have gone home with that guy. Many of us think or vocalize thoughts like these. Perhaps innocently, or in some cases, vindictively.

I was enraged a few weeks ago to read the transcripts of (I can’t even call them men) dimwits assessing why a vicious gang rape and subsequent murder happened on a bus in Delhi. One assertion was that she and her date shouldn’t have been out to a movie that late. Women should be in their homes at that time. They said many worse things but I don't want to further highlight that idiotic thinking in this space.

The frustrating part is that those thoughts must permeate some way across cultures, across borders and even genders. I’ve heard men and women share variations of those views.

And we wonder why victims of these calamities carry a burden of guilt and self loathing along with their scars. So where does it stem from? We just need a reason to explain why such evil, unthinkable acts could happen? We can’t put our mind where the assailant’s mind was so we rationalize for and against the victim?

Well if I was that person, I wouldn’t have been alone on that trail at that time.

But then how do you explain the second case? Now there are headlines asking if women should be carrying weapons at all times. She was alone in her home, minding her own business when a complete stranger barged in and inflicted irreparable damage.

I hope both those women heal. I hope those who inflicted the damage heal too but am not naïve to think it won’t take significant help for both.

The second man was known to police. I don’t know what his prior convictions were about. I would imagine he didn’t commit such a heinous crime out of the blue. I’m no expert but I would think there’s a starting point before things escalate there. Maybe not.

There’s no question, there need to be stricter laws and, in turn, punishments for such acts. I’ve seen firsthand the frustration and anguish good cops feel when they’re the ones handcuffed by policies and legal limitations.

We’re about to welcome a baby girl into the world. In its current state, it terrifies me sometimes. But I’ve always been inclined to take action and, against my better judgment sometimes, seek justice. I’m continually reminded that there’s a higher judge that gets the final say but do I ever wish there was more our laws could do now.

If that were my daughter, sister, mother, friend, neighbor, I would want those men found, castrated and isolated forever more so they could no longer inflict any pain in another woman. The thing is that those women are our daughters, sisters, mothers, friends and neighbors. They’re not strangers to everyone.

I’ve blogged before about how this world needs more love. It does. Without question. That goes for the good guys and yes, even the bad guys.

But I also think there needs to be stiffer penalties. Maybe I’m delusional but I have to think if there are harsher penalties that actually stick, someone down the line will be less inclined to take what isn’t theirs. Not just a momentary theft but a lasting and painful robbery of innocence.

Or maybe we just need to get rid of the whole pornographic industry.

Or maybe we need more fathers and mothers to stay together and spend time raising their children instead of just their median income and portfolios.

Or maybe we just need to bring unicorns back to life and paint the skies with rainbows.

I don’t proclaim to know the answers so open the floor to any listening ear. Where do we go from here? How do I help now to make sure my little girl doesn’t have to worry about leaving the house without a weapon? How do I make sure the boy or boys we might raise know that damaging behavior like that is never ok? Do I write letters to policy makers? Start a community group to help ensure nobody walks alone? Where do we go from here? Somebody please give this pregnant lady some hope.

30 for 30

The roaring 20s have come and gone. Now that I'm an adult, I figured I'd sit down and reflect on what I've learned in my last three decades on earth:

1)   Love your life before you find the love of your life. It wasn’t until I felt satisfied that my life was complete that I found someone else to really complete it with.

2)   Friends come in all shapes, sizes, types, ages…I used to think I could tell right off the bat that someone was the type of person I’d be friends with. It was judgmental, sometimes right but not without a lot of room for error. Common interests are a big part of friendship but sometimes differences with just enough similarities result in the best friendships. And age really is just a number—especially the older you get. I still forget sometimes that my closest friends were born before my parents even met, or are the same age or even younger than my ‘little’ sisters.

3)   Your body is more and less imperfect than you think. No, you’re not a fat blob. Yes, you should take better care of your body because one day all of that crashing and banging on the field, court, ice, etc. may lead to a jacked shoulder, stitches on your face and hip surgery. Thanks, life, for that lesson.

4)   Moments matter. Sometimes it just takes one moment for huge change to come crashing in. Value the moments with people you care about. Don’t waste moments on things, places, people you don’t care about. Sounds harsh but it’s something I learned and am still working on living.

5)   Gossip is useless, stupid and at times (most times), hurtful. I still do it. I die inside a little bit every time. Maybe I’ll improve on this by my 40^th. I sure hope so. One day, I hope to be liberal with kind words and stingy with the filth. I could and should take a page out of my husband’s book on this one. He’s the best non-gossiper I know.

6)   Losing someone stings. Whether by death, dispute or distance, when someone leaves your life, it leaves a hole. Other people and time help fill the hole but it still sucks. Cherish people while they’re in your bubble. If you can, find ways to still connect with them when they’re gone.

7)   Music cures all. Breakups, new love, running, working, fuming, chilling—there’s a soundtrack for that. I constantly have a song in my head and have found I can turn to music to get through anything. Thank you music makers. You rock my world.

8)   You can do anything for 30 seconds. Even if it takes lots of 30 seconds. I think I started doing this when my roommate Jenette and I would go on these crazy 20-mile runs in the dead heat of an Idaho summer. When I felt like I was maxed out, I’d just start counting to 30—over and over—while singing the soundtrack of Now and Then in my head. I just used this technique at the dentist the other day. Works like a charm.

9)   Family is awesome. I realized this in my teens after getting dropped off at university. They’re crazy sometimes, sure, and as imperfect as I am but they’re mine. I’m theirs. Parents, siblings, step-families, COUSINS!, grandparents, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles and now in-laws. Love them all. Couldn’t imagine a life without them and thankfully, don’t have to.

10)    If you cheat at Clue, you will get caught and it will lead to the biggest fight you’ve ever had with your cousin. Same thing goes in life. I really believe that honesty is the best policy. Cheaters never prosper—not in the end at least. Sometimes it’s hard to be honest and tempting to test the truth. Your conscience, relationships and well being will all be better off if honesty is the *only way to go. *There is a Santa clause

11)  Sports are awesome. A very wise woman once told me I shouldn’t waste my time with sports and would be better off without them. Well, sorry Grammie but I disagreed then and still do. Sports have given me memories, challenges, best friends, injuries, triumphs, defeats and ultimately, even my husband. I know there’s more to life than ‘playing a silly game’ but where else can you stretch yourself, help others, develop talents, entertain, be entertained AND work up a sweat? Thankfully, Grammie’s come around over the years.

12)  Be you. The version of your best self may get updates along the way and may regress at times. Sometimes, some years, you may be a better version of you than other years but be you. Try to improve on yourself but don’t try to cover up the warts and human frailties. Learn from them, love yourself in spite of them and stay true to who you are. I am awkwardly and bluntly honest, I am extremely competitive but more than winning, value fairness. I have faith and therefore, am faithful. I’m extremely loyal and care deeply about being the best at everything, especially the best wife, friend, daughter, teammate, sister, professional, etc. I also have a temper, struggle to commit to things for the fear that something more desirable will come up and I don’t like wasting time (even though I have developed a TV habit).

13)  Don’t make comparisons. I’ve wasted too much energy over the years thinking, man, I wish I looked like/acted like/sounded like someone else. Life would be so much better/easier/more fulfilling if only I was more like that person. Believe it or not, once upon a time, someone may have thought the same things about you. See #12. Be you. Realize that everyone has something they wished they could gain or get rid of. And if they don’t, well good on ‘em. Lastly, that picture you’re comparing yourself to is probably photoshopped. Whether literally altered electronically or skewed by your own perception. Everyone has flaws and struggles. Some are just more apparent than others.

14)   Every day is a new day but life is (hopefully) the collection of many of those days. Some days we’re rock stars, some days we’re couch potatoes and some days just suck. Try to be better today than you were yesterday but don’t beat yourself up if you’re not. We only get to where we’re going, one day at a time.

15)  Sunday naps are the best. So are lake days, big, juicy raspberries and tall, cold glasses of lemonade. I’m so grateful for all of them and much more. The simple things can just be so extraordinary.

16)  How to love. And how to have my heart broken. Maybe you can go through life and have one but not the other. From my experience though, you dive in and love and sometimes you get hurt. But man, it’s worth it. When it’s good, it’s good. When it crumbles, it hurts. But it helps you learn a lot about yourself, your coping skills and how much people around you love you and will rally to help you rise above the ashes.

17)   Consider the lilies. Sometimes I over think things. I can especially fret about a lot of things, including money. This is another work in progress but I’m learning to just trust that things will work out. Consider the lilies, how they grow. I’m sure they’re working their little hearts out to get bigger but they can’t control when and where the sun and rain comes from. But it comes.

18)  We get by with a little help from our friends. I said family is awesome and I have to include friends in the same breath. I love my friends. I count many of them as my family and feel so blessed to have them in my life. I just need to find more and better ways to show that.

19)   The grass can be green on both sides but if we’re just looking at the other side, that’s all we’ll see. Sometimes we just need to look around and see how awesome we’ve got it. It’s good to look ahead and set goals but when we look too far ahead, we might miss just how awesome things are on our side of the fence.

20)  It’s never too late to try something new. As a kid, I wanted to play ice hockey so badly. I thought I’d missed my window of opportunity and then I met some Curvy Canucks in my late 20s. I didn’t know how to skate and more importantly, how to stop on skates but now I do. I love playing hockey and am so glad I just tried it.

21)  Road rage is bad but I get my rage on all the time. I carpool with this amazing woman I work with. She is a very safe driver and it genuinely hurts her feelings when people honk at her or tailgate. I am working on it and really don’t want to hurt any sweet man or woman’s feelings because I’m a jerk.

22)  Manners matter. Please and thank you. Simple words that can open so many doors. The more you use them, the better you’ll feel so use please and thank yous at every meal. Really, every chance you get.

23)  Saying thank you goes a long way. See the above. It feels good to say thanks and feels great to receive gratitude. Again, just two words can make a world of difference, especially in your marriage. There are two other words that also go a long way. Not as easy to say but starts with I and ends with ‘m sorry.

24)  Sometimes (most times) the countryside trumps a crowd. I’ve gone to a lot of concerts. I’ve gone to Vegas multiple times. I think I’ve been to almost 300 professional hockey games in my life. There is a palpable buzz in all of those places but far and away, I’d rather be sitting next to a lake. Give me a guitar, a campfire, a paddle over bright lights and raucous energy any day. Nature is my sanctuary and I’ve been fortunate to live in some beautiful places.

25)  When you think you’re absolutely at your wit’s end, take one more step. Prayer has helped me a lot here. When I’ve felt like I’m at rock bottom and can’t find my way out, just keep on truckin’.

26)  If you can dream it, you can do it. If you’re willing to work for it, that is. I really believe that nothing is impossible. Not always easy but definitely possible.

27)  Sometimes, the best thing you can do is to be kind. There are times when I just want to fix stuff. I try to troubleshoot and offer advice but really all that person or situation needs is a little kindness. I love the saying “Don’t let a problem to be fixed become more important than a person to be loved.”

28)  Life is full of surprises so don’t get caught off guard when it throws a curve ball. Lean on your loved ones, trust in yourself and count to 30. As many times as it takes. And above all else, don’t forget to pray. I’m hopping up on my soapbox for these last few. There is tremendous power in prayer. I’ve lived it. I’ve seen it. I’ve been so blessed by it. I would not be where I am without sincere prayer in my life.

29)  Marry your best friend and life will be amazing. I wish it was that simple but it sure helps. I’ve seen a lot of marriages fall apart, including my own parents’. Maybe because of that, I have spent a lot of time dissecting what makes a relationship work and what makes one fall apart. In my whopping 4.5 years of marriage and 30 years of life, I’ve learned that it’s important to share—interests, time, love, service, hopes, fears, dreams—everything with your partner. It’s also important to say sorry quickly, mean it and accept your partner’s apology, quickly. Once it’s a bygone, by golly, let it be gone.

30)  You are loved. By friends, family, your husband, people you serve with, and most certainly, your Heavenly parents. I can look back at my life and see many times where I’ve felt so loved. I can also think of many times I’ve thought I was alone, only to see amazing miracles happen that show me I’m anything but alone.

It's a man's world

I want to preface this by saying how grateful I am for an amazing and supportive husband. I love him for the man that he is and is aspiring to be.

I felt this even more last night as he stood there with me in the rain for over an hour as I talked with two girlfriends after our hockey game. And then my appreciation for him grew even more as I started reading tweets that were part of an ongoing, organic and viral #YesAllWomen social media campaign.

At first I sympathized with many of these women then I realized, I could empathize.

For as long as I can remember, inequality has bothered me. I was fortunate to be pretty good at sports growing up and a lot of the time, played right along with the boys. I was even better than many of them. I never felt that I was incapable of doing something because I was just a girl.

As much as I blurred the lines in my mind between what girls could do and what boys could do, I received constant reminders from those around me that there really was a line between us.

Bless her heart, I recently found an old letter and accompanying pamphlet from my grandma. She was encouraging me to go to a course to learn to be a lady basically. Learn how to do your hair fancy and put makeup on and sit properly. I can’t believe there are still things like that. It wasn’t for me at the time and never will be. There’s a lot to value in womanhood but wasting countless hours on primping, to me, that’s not one of them.

That was a more innocuous example of how expectations for women are different than for men. I suppose a comparison for men would be a course to learn to open doors and go bulk up at the gym.

As harmless as that example was, there have been many more reminders that have been less than harmless. Even for a girl that never took to primping and preening and spent the majority of her life considering herself to be ‘one of the boys’.

I realized I had my own stories fitting for the #YesAllWomen campaign. Like when my neighborhood friend locked me in a room when we were kindergarten aged and told me I couldn’t leave until I touched his penis.

Or more recently, when I was accosted as I walked down the stairs, among a group of people, leaving a Skytrain station. A young man grabbed me, began kissing my neck and telling me we should hook up. The people exiting the train with me, and his ‘friend’, watched on and eventually almost everyone walked away.

I like to think I’m a tough cookie but instead of fighting back, I resorted to saying I needed to get home to my husband. As though the idea that he would be offending another man, not me, that would be a sufficient defence. It didn’t work.

The guy kept kissing my neck and telling me if my husband really loved me, he’d be there with me right then.

I had played out scenarios like this in my mind, sadly. What would I do if someone tried to rape me? I always thought I’d fight tooth and nail. Instead, I placated his ego and tried to get away as nicely as possible. I was less than 50 feet away from safety. If only I could get to my office where there was security and nobody could enter without a swipe badge. Including this creep.

Then my knight in shining armor stepped in. The friend who’d been idly watching on stepped in and told the guy to let me go. And he did. He immediately listened to his male counterpart but he still stood between me and the exit. The creep started ranting about how he’d moved here from the Middle East and was frustrated with how Canadian women were so prudish and wouldn’t give him the time of day. Like he was entitled to have every lustful whim fulfilled. Like women were only good for satisfying his needs.

In the middle of his rant, I ran. Fear washed over me. I hate being afraid. I hate feeling weak. I felt both. And in the midst of my fear and anger, I let him win. I didn’t go get security. I didn’t tell anyone until I got home to my husband. Who knows how far he went that night, or the next. Who knows whose life that creep ruined.

I’ll always regret not reporting him to someone. There’s a lot I regret from that night. And I hate it. I hate that this pitiful excuse for a man did that. I hate that men like him have created an aura of fear that us women have to sift through. Is it safe to walk on that side of the street? Should I get off the train now or wait until after that seedy looking character gets off? Should I acknowledge the catcalls because I read that if you look a man in the face, he’s less likely to rape you because you’ll be able to identify him?

Hate and fear. Anger and animosity. That’s what’s bred from creeps like that man at the Skytrain station. Or that loser in California. And sadly, it still feels like there’s not a lot we, as women, can do.

I can stop wearing makeup, wear baggy clothes, play sports, do a man’s job but at the end of the day, I’ll still be a woman. And that’s awesome. And sometimes, terrifying, at the same time.

Gentlemen, what I need, what your wife needs, what your mother needs, your sisters, aunts and female friends—what we all need from the men in and out of our lives—is your strength. The strength to stand up and tell your guy friends to shut up when they start degrading and demeaning women. Whether she’s on a pole or bus, she is a human and not an object. She has tits but she has feelings too. One day she might be your everything, that is if another man hasn’t made her feel like nothing first.

Just a Minute

It was just a minute. Less, really. And everything changed.

I’ve used that phrase a lot and it’s always seemed so inconsequential.

I’ll be there…in just a minute. Hold on…just a minute.

I actually started this blog post a month ago. I was up late (surprise, surprise), mulling over a minute that had resulted in an injury and dreading the next morning. I was just hours away from heading to the hospital for hip surgery.

I hate needles. They terrify me. I knew this surgery would mean a poke or two and was not looking forward to it.

I told myself, it’ll just be a minute. Go to your happy place (a field with puppies, an ice rink or a beach usually) and let the minute pass. I surprised myself by handling the IV really well, patted myself on the back and headed into the O.R. and onto dreamland.

Those first days post-op were really hazy but by the weekend, I’d started feeling this throbbing pain in my calf—despite heavy painkillers. For the next week, I told myself it was probably just from the surgery. The surgeon had even said to expect some ankle pain because of the way my foot was held during the operation. And the physiotherapist didn’t seem worried at all about it, so it must have been nothing.

But I wasn’t sleeping at night because of the pain and then the chest pains and shortness of breath kicked in. Turns out I was sitting on a bit of a ticking time bomb that could make everything change in just a minute. I had won the lottery and developed Deep Vein Thrombosis in my thigh.  A term, quite frankly, I wish I’d never heard.

But those minutes piled up and I realized some very important lessons. Firstly—the human body can put up with a lot. It’s incredible. A masterpiece, thanks to our Creator.

Secondly, we get by with a little help from our friends (and family of course). People gave me a lot of their minutes and I’ll never forget it. Or I’ll try not to at least (I was on some pretty heavy drugs for those first couple of weeks).

That second lesson has taught me to be more careful with those minutes. There were some days and nights I wondered how serious those chest pains were and was there really a chance that my minutes could be up? Surely no. I still had so much to do.

I’m so thankful I still have more minutes. More minutes to catch up with an old friend. More minutes to tell my awesome mom about my day and that I love her.  More minutes to talk about hopes and dreams and plans with my best friend and husband, Sterling. More minutes to see those hopes and dreams become reality.

More minutes to realize the best investment of time isn’t necessarily in doing awesome at your job or watching that blockbuster movie; it’s spending time with the people that mean the most to you.

Not to say doing awesome at your job or catching a movie is a bad way to spend your time. I’ll still try to do both. I’ve just realized I need to be more careful about what I push aside in order to try to do those things.

Too many times I’ve been too busy for this or too lazy for that. Just give me a minute…and I’ll listen to you tell me how your day was. Just wait a minute…and I’ll call you back. Just one more minute…and I’ll be done at the office and meet you for lunch.

But those just a minutes pile up. Then they’re gone. I don’t want to be morbid but this last month has helped me appreciate the value of a minute and I hope the shine doesn’t wear off.

I’m so grateful to have so many awesome people in my life I get to share these precious minutes with. My heart is overflowing with gratitude. And life. And minutes. Lots of them, I hope.

Onward, ever onward

I’ve got a problem. I’ve been seeing the Doctor way too much lately.  Dr. Mario that is. Some grown adults come home from a long day of work and unwind with a nice glass of wine or maybe an hour in front of the boob tube. My decompression comes with a few rounds of Dr. Mario coupled with some good music (okay it’s Taylor Swift or Dixie Chicks…define good).

At almost thirty years of age, it feels absurd to even admit this but I don’t have kids, don’t drink wine and can’t play sports right now. So Dr. Mario it is.

That’s my escape. And I thought it was completely mind-numbing until Friday, as I waited for my husband to get home, the game got me thinking.

Every time I play, I start at the highest level (20) at the highest speed (super fast) and try to get to level 30 without having to restart. That’s my goal. Every time.

It used to be impossible and would suck hours of my life (I know, I need kids) but now I pretty much do it every time then turn the game off and I’m done.

There’s a lot going on in that game. Simplified—you’ve got a lot of coloured pills that need to disappear.

And I think I’ve finally figured it out. There’s a little screen at the top corner that helps out by showing you the next pills that will drop. I look just far enough ahead to start planning where I’ll next lay the little pills.

It can get tricky because when the pills are piled right up to the top of the screen, one wrong move ends your game.

So there I was Friday, cruising away at Level 24 when I got too aggressive on one of my corners. The far right side was stacked right up to the top. And the added challenge is the speed increases as the game goes on. If you don’t get to those pesky top corners in the first few moves, you’re going to have to take the long bottom-up approach later.

I thought three steps ahead. And while I was thinking so far ahead, I screwed up and the game was over.

In real life, I’ve been thinking ahead. Where will I be in five, 10 years? Will we have a house? A kid? Kids?

When I was little (and still now really), I just really, really wanted a glimpse of my future. I wished I could just see a two-second clip of my future life. Would I have a husband and family? Would I live solo with my dogs?

So many burning questions about all these life plans I was just too impatient to wait for answers for. But the wait’s been worth it. So far. No dogs yet but I am thankful every day for the many blessings I have.

Funny thing is, they didn’t come from looking too far ahead. Just far enough ahead. Along the way, I’ve set goals. I’ve met some and watched some fade away. Impatiently I’ve waited for some to be realized and some I’ve agonized over not realizing.

There are great stories of success out there and I bet they have wicked advice but what that simple video game got me thinking about was the importance of taking things one step at a time with just enough foresight to not have to watch it all implode.

Looking big picture is important but if we’re just focusing on the massive spread, we might not see the peaks and valleys between us and that mountaintop we’re striving for.

As 2013 starts to come to a close (I know, it’s only almost October but time flies!), a new set of goals will come out. And I’ll look back at last year’s goals. No, we didn’t win that championship with the Curvies but man did we have a blast trying. And I still haven’t published a song but I did play and write.

Some goals will have to go back on the list for 2014 and some I’ll just have to let go.  There might be some new goals this time around. Rather than dwell on the unfulfilled dreams and expectations, I choose to look forward.

A wise man once said Everest is climbed one step at a time with your eyes ever forward. Okay, I don’t know if a wise man ever said that and if I were climbing that mountain, I’d probably have my head down the entire time out of sheer exhaustion. But the principle’s true: we get to where we’re going by moving forward with our eyes on the prize. It’s the best way I know how at least.

A Time to Heal

I’d been looking ahead to today for a while now. Dreading it almost. Today would have been my nephew Zachary’s 11^th birthday. But Amy and Kirk’s handsome son, Josh and Avalayne’s older brother, Grandma and Grandpa’s little guy…he wasn’t here for it.

Last year, this day hurt. Memories of Zachary stung deep and brought tears I couldn’t fight. It was the first birthday he was in Heaven instead of right here with us. Even though I knew without a doubt he was in a much better place with his Heavenly Father and Savior. That he’d found comfort there that he never tasted here on earth. Selfishly, I missed him too much.

Funny how time works though. This year, the sting’s not as strong. Not because the memories are fading but because they’ve become fonder.

When Zachy was just a little guy, I had the privilege of getting to spend a Fall with him. I hold onto those memories tightly; both for the time I got to spend with him and with my sister’s growing family.

Zach used to just light up when I’d put his dad’s gel in his hair. It was like he knew that meant he was going somewhere. On an adventure of some sort, even if it was just to the grocery store.

When Calgary wasn’t a tundra and there was no ice on the sidewalks, I would strap on my rollerblades and push Zach in his wheelchair to the store. He’d be laughing hysterically the entire way.

Zach couldn't walk but that didn't mean he couldn't dance. When he was small enough, I'd grab him under his armpits, tell him to 'put on his dancing shoes' and DANCE! He'd kick his feet furiously and let out that boisterous belly laugh as he 'danced' across the floor.

I cherished those moments. And do still even more so now. Thankfully, they far outshine the many tough and frustrating days he had in a body that never did him any favours.

Except for that smile. And the twinkle in his eyes.

I miss them. I miss him. But the ache’s fading. I pain less for him and more for his family and loved ones still missing him.

Zachary James Schofield. Today, and every day, I thought of you. A lot. Because I had the chance to know you, to love you and to learn so much from you. And for that, I am so thankful.