Highway to Heaven

I've learned a great deal from the diverse and rich community in which we live - the multitude of faith traditions has been a lovely example of the opportunity to worship freely. There's so much anger and ugly being thrown around these days about different faith traditions and I was reminded of the day our kids and I spent visiting with and learning from people of other traditions as part of our continuing education during a teacher strike. I offer our experience here as information - simply because, at the most basic, we share a whole lot more in common than we differ. And while any rogue member can claim their expression of devotion to a religious system as motivation for evil acts, I really do believe in the prevailing goodness of people.

Excerpt from original post on September 23, 2014:
Number 5 Road in Richmond, BC, is also known as the "Highway to Heaven" because it is home to so many different faith communities.  We visited 5 of the 30+ options, and the day was full and rich.  Interestingly [and unintentionally], we were on this field trip on September 11, and being among people of various religious beliefs was, for me, a redemptive way to spend that date that is so charged with emotions and memories of destruction.  We were invited into each place of worship warmly, there was a mutual respect among people with widely different beliefs, the hospitality of a shared table was a common thread.  We had Communion in the most tangible way as we made our way down No. 5 Road and hope was alive.

We started at the Buddhist Temple (www.buddhisttemple.ca) where the scent of incense permeated the air and we learned that the goal is to cut the ties to sufferings and ego that bind us. Our delightful guide shared that Buddhists believe in relative truth - he gave the example of looking at a flower as a person, fish and bee - each being sees the same flower but their perspectives are different.  We see through human eyes, fish see through curved eyes and bees through compound eyes.  Each of us experience the same flower but in a different way, so we are all partly right. Interestingly, we also learned that anyone may become a Buddha - it may take several incarnations, and to reach full enlightenment you must cut even your tie to Buddhism at the last possible second before your death.  The temple was ornate - bright golden statues with red accents, parishioners bringing offerings of food and flowers - and fascinating.  Our tour guide was delightful. 

From there we moved to a Mennonite Brethren Church (www.richmondbethel.ca) and its familiarity was refreshing.  As a Christian denomination we found a sense of home - Lydia said this was her favorite place we visited because it was most like what she knew at Fort Hill (www.forthillchurch.org).  We saw the nursery, the worship space, the playground.  They were hosting a 'strike camp' for families who needed care for their children during the strike.  We talked about our loving God and grace and community.  It was lovely. 

We moved onto a Hindu Temple (www.ramkrishnamandir.com) where we removed our shoes at the door and entered in silence.  Our host was a lovely woman who invited us to sit on the floor of the worship space and talked to the children about yoga, meditating by concentrating on breathing and engaging our whole body in worship.  She encouraged them to roll on the floor (which they were more than ready to do by this time of day) and talked with them about reincarnation and the privilege of returning to earth as a bird or elephant.  She offered us food and many happily partook. 

Our next stop was a mosque (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Richmond-Jamia-Mosque/162309383806206).  Again, we removed our shoes and women covered their heads as a sign of respect for their worship space.  We entered into a large room carpeted with a linear design that helped guide people where to sit for prayers.  The niche in the room indicated the direction you would face for prayers and there were no pictures on the walls or decorations around the room.  You see, these decorative pieces could serve as distractions from Allah and could, potentially, become idols, so they are not used.  Our host taught us a great deal about Islam, emphasizing that Muhammad is not the founder of Islam - instead, he is the last and greatest prophet.  They offered us refreshments before we left.  The homemade samosas were some of the best I've ever tasted and the hospitality was lovely.

The final stop of the day was a Sikh Temple (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Nanaksar-Gurdwara/167366943286558).  We all covered our heads here and removed our shoes again.  We learned that the key belief in the Sikh tradition is that we are all one and there is one God.  It was interesting to learn that there is someone in their worship space reading their holy book twenty-four hours a day.  There's even a curtained bed above where they sit so readers may take rest as needed.  Our host was a delightful man who made sure we knew we were invited to partake from their cafeteria which is also open 24 hours per day and the food is always free.

In these tender days I hope we can all embrace that we're in this life together and being in the thick of it is far better in community than flying solo. Breaking bread with friends from all sorts of backgrounds is holy ground, so is actively seeking to know people who different from us. In the process of learning about different traditions, my own Christian faith was enriched and broadened and my call to live a life inclusive of all of God's children was affirmed.

Dear Mr. Trump

Words have been pinging in my head in a veritable game of bumper cars since the US Presidential election. I've had to sit with my words and let them bang around - trying and separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, pondering if they were actually helpful. The truth that has coalesced is my resolve to help bring about healing. These days after Nov 8 have been days for me to listen - to listen with the intent really hearing the myriad of voices who feel scared, silenced, targeted and nervous. These days have been days to look at myself in the mirror too - name some assumptions I've made, name how my narrative has shaped me, name how it feels to understand in part what it feels like to be 'other'. I've mentioned in various conversations and on my facebook page repeatedly that these are tender times - for our home country, our family, our world. To make things more tenuous, we Americans find ourselves without a template by which this new paradigm will play out. While that's liberating to some, it's stifling to others - and our country couldn't be more divided right now. Instead of debating which side of the coin I believe to be 'better', my hope is to seek and choose small ways to begin to engage in conversation - even if it makes us uncomfortable - and start the hard, intentional work of healing. As part of my efforts, I promise to be vulnerable enough to ask questions when I don't understand, to admit when I wake up to new perspectives, to apologize when I screw it up. Because I will screw it up - it's a hazard when you're a verbal processor. I decided to write a letter to our President in an effort to exorcise the verbal pinball game going on in my brain and I'm choosing to risk sharing it publicly in the hope all who read it understand it's written by a human who's trying to do her very best to be faithful to herself and her values all the while recognizing and respecting that, at best, only around 50% of the people might hear some of their stories in my own. I hope you'll share your story too because I'm convinced that the first step to narrowing divides is understanding each other's stories.

Dear President Trump:

To be honest, there are traits I like about you - I like that you've not been groomed from birth to be in politics, I like that you've run businesses and have that experience, I like that your family stands by your side. But, Mr. Trump, we've gotta have a talk. I've pulled up a comfy chair and poured a glass of sweet tea for you - let's chat.

It's been an interesting season to watch reactions to your election. Our family is currently planted in Vancouver, British Columbia, and we're among a small group of folks moving away from Canada and into the United States in the coming months. It's a move that will bring us closer to extended family but it's one that has some in our squad wondering if we've lost our marbles. We've lived as immigrants to this land for 3+ years - brought here by gainful employment, absent the pressures of fleeing political strife or fear for our lives. We've experienced great beauty during our tenure here and I offer some of our family's greatest takeaways for your consideration.

Hospitality
Being from the South, we're known for hospitality and I firmly believe Southern Hospitality to be an actual thing. Our neighbors to the north have welcomed us with a similar warmth we've grown to expect as part of our lifelong marinade. Our children slipped into school as seamlessly as is possible. We parents made friends by virtue of their involvement in school - friends who most assuredly will be part of our lives forever. We've been embraced as part of the community despite being foreign to it and we've developed a 'chosen family' system to help ease the strain of being physically far away from our families of origin. Our children have learned to extend this same warmth and welcome to new students from new lands who may not even share a language and it's beautiful. We'll bring that back with us to the US - and I hope our nation will be known for its hospitality and graceful welcomes akin to what we've experienced.

New Understanding of the Power/Influence of Mainstream Media
Our family endeavoured to conduct our own experiment during this labouriously long election season. We watched all of the debates - primary and general election - and we recorded their coverage on two separate networks. Our goal as parents was to teach our children how media covers stories differently because they seek different segments of viewership/sponsorship/MONEY and want to resonate with those groups. We wanted our children to understand now, at the ages of 12 and 9, that media outlets bank on viewers behaving like lemmings - blindly following their carefully constructed trail of breadcrumbs - not asking questions until they've fallen off a cliff. We want our children to think critically, to ask the "whys" and "hows" and "who benefits" questions. We want them to understand the importance and power of fact checking and the responsibility they have for making informed decisions. We taught them to listen for phrases like, "This information has not been able to be independently confirmed by ____ but sources close to ____ report..." That's not news - it's opinion and ratings bait and it's rampant. Our experiment has become the norm in our house - an effort to hear different perspectives and wrestle with issues so the opinions we grow are our own. After all, how can you fully own basic values without wrestling with perspectives outside your own?

Social Media Pros & Cons
I've got to hand it to you in the use of social media throughout the campaign - while I sat aghast with my mouth wide open reading many of your tweets, you won the battle for press. And the immediacy and broad audiences that are now reachable by sound bytes has entirely shifted the conversation regarding guerilla campaign tactics. It's a new world and I've been reminded that sometimes the best response is one of quiet, taking pause and gathering facts. I wonder if we may see less immediate reactions of violence, of upset, of hurt if we simply waited on facts instead of taking to social media platforms with conjecture and assumptions.

Value of Crafting a World View based on Relationships
The most exciting outgrowth of our living in Vancouver has been the fact that our children have cultivated their world view based on relationships with children from numerous countries. When they hear stories out of Iran or China or Japan or Saudi Arabia, their first instinct is to draw upon the friendship(s) they've built with people from those places. I'm grateful they've had the privilege of personalized experiences with so many nations - nations with whom they will always be connected by virtue of our time here and because of the interactions between the US and the globe. The fact that my children know their story to be knitted together with people from different backgrounds makes our family's life richer and I'm grateful.

Experience in Living as a 'Guest'
It's no small thing to be welcomed into another land and establish a home. Part of how we chose to approach our time in Canada was to take our role as 'guest' seriously and to behave accordingly. For us, some of what that meant included learning the Canadian national anthem, learning the names and locations of Canadian provinces and making a concerted effort to leave a positive mark on this place that has graciously accepted us. We've intentionally endeavoured to do all these things and I really do believe that we've contributed in positive ways to our community here and I know the impact of our host country has left countless, indelible marks on all four of us. It is humbling to accept the welcome of people who do not share our background and it is an honour to acknowledge and appreciate the manner in which people who were strangers three years ago are now part of the very fabric of our family.

How it feels to be the 'other'
This election season has highlighted our 'other-ness' in ways - people know we're American and we're proud of our American heritage. I've got to admit, however, that the 2016 US Presidential election process led to some challenging and uncomfortable experiences. It called to the forefront of my thinking how seriously people from all over the world take the goings on in the US. I'd grown up assuming that the US, while a leader, had a kind of insular political process to which only those of us who lived in the US really paid attention. I learned this year I'd been horribly mistaken - people are watching. People are watching closely. And while they watch they bring a lot of feelings to the table - some are anxious, some are angry, some are depressed, some are excited, some are simply unsure. I suppose it's a reflection of all the feelings Americans bring to the table as well. My hope, however, is that all these folks with all their feelings are welcome to the table - that we're able to all sit down and have conversation and find places, however small, where we can begin to build relationship and common ground. My hope is those who feel anxious because they worship differently (than me), love differently (than me), look differently (than me) - my hope is we all feel known - important, critical parts of the American story. For I believe that's what sets the story of the US apart from other nations - the fact that when we arrive in America we celebrate and claim a common identity as Americans - all the while maintaining the identity from which we came. You said it yourself today, "When you open your heart to patriotism there is no room for prejudice".

President Trump - the world is watching. I pray for your success as our leader - our country's success depends on it. May the counsel you take be enlightened, may the relationships you pursue be inclusive, may the impact of your leadership be positive and may the legacy you leave be one of hope and unity. And may those of us who tread lightly in these days endeavour to be part of something bigger than ourselves that will make our children proud.

Peace and all that is good -
Meri Kate Marcum

The Ending Begins

Guilty Pleasure/Confession: Philip and I like the movie "Friends with Benefits" - while not a family flick (at all), we like Mila Kunes and Justin Timberlake. The film prominently features the Third Eye Blind Song, "Closing Time", and its lyrics have been on repeat in my head of late - particularly the line "...every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end..." The song first made itself my ear worm when we were in Whistler before Christmas. It's become an annual tradition to spend some days at the ski mecca and I found myself in a 100% foul mood on our third day there this year because I was really struggling with the fact we would not have the trip next December. I had to have a real "suck it up, buttercup" moment with myself as I realized I was being snippy with everyone in my family as my emotions were playing pinball in my head.

Here we are. At the ending of a beginning that started 3.5 years ago when we drove away from Clemson, SC toward Vancouver, British Columbia. In 8.5 weeks (insert hyperventilation sounds) we will drive away from this place toward Marietta, Georgia, closing this chapter and beginning a new one. It's a funny feeling, actually, as our life story coincidentally aligns with lots of talk about a new calendar year. As many on social media wished the last moments of 2016 away with its epic loss of many icons of our time, I held onto those fleeting days - white knuckling in preparation for 2017. While 2016 hosted many an unanswered question regarding our family's future, the present was known - comfortable even. And 2017's arrival meant clarity of future but a soon-to-be unknown present. To be honest, these first 12 days of 2017 have been an almost constant tension between metaphorical light and dark (an unmistakably orange light, I must say, emanating from our beloved Clemson, SC - home of the college football national championship Clemson Tigers).

To date, 2017 has brought us:
-A new home
-Time with family and friends
-Family wide stomach virus
-A to-do list for the ages
-Computer hack leading to three days of scrubbing/software reinstallation
-Obstacles in the moving process
-Lots of homework to be made up

If you know me, you've heard of Montreat. It's a touch point of mine - a place where I often reclaim who I am by being reminded by wise people of who we are in the world and what we are called to do. It's a place that's uniquely mine in our family of four - and it's got an identity to me founded on milestones and grace I've experienced there. Both times it dawned on me that we may be expecting a child I was in Montreat, countless of my own birthdays I spent in Montreat, friendships I've had nearly a lifetime were founded in Montreat, premarital counseling began in Montreat. It's a place that helps me coalesce my story to its most fundamental truths and it's a place to which I travelled on the first day of 2017 to help staff a conference for 1000+ college aged people where we dug deep and wrestled with what it looks like to embrace God's plan for radical diversity in the world. It was a time of challenge and grace and our second keynote speaker, Valarie Kaur (www.valariekaur.com), reframed for me these dark times of endings when she said something akin to, "What if we are not in the darkness of the tomb, but instead the darkness of the womb?" Lightbulbs erupted in my head - we are on the precipice of new life, rebirth! She reminded me that the hardest, most painful part of labor when delivering a child - the place where you feel engulfed by a "ring of fire" as she called it - is transition. Coincidence? I think not.

Valarie went on to say that in those moments that we feel surrounded by that ring of fire, if we listen closely, we'll hear those who've poured love into us throughout our story and even before our story began whispering into our ear - "You. Are. Brave." So becomes the word to which I will cling in the impending unsure present - brave. It's a word I claim for our children, for Philip and myself. And it's the word I'll repeat to myself as we push through, with all our might, our own transition. And I'll listen carefully for the whispers - voices like Alicia who reminded me to allow my tears to be baptismal waters of new life and abundant grace; voices like Kirsten who gifted me with a bracelet that reads "enjoy the journey"; voices like Sam and Zach who sang about how our story is still being written; voices like Paul who reminded me that much of our work is done by staying present in the conversation; voices like Valarie who reminded me that I am brave.

This ending has indeed begun - but it is already giving birth to new life - and I'm grateful to push through and enjoy the journey with the three I love most alongside me. Vancouver, you will be sorely missed, but you have taught us that we are brave and you have prepared us for the next chapter we have already begun to write in Georgia. Thank you.

We have news...

One of many lessons I've been learning during our time in Vancouver is to be okay with limbo - finding 'normal' in the midst of uncertainty, letting go of the want to know details right now. I have to say, I've gotten pretty good at it and am proud that frustration around not knowing the path forward has gotten to where it only creeps in intermittently for short(er) periods of time.  We're coming toward the close of a five month process of defining next steps and these five months have felt more like two years - roughly the gestation period of an elephant. We've been living our very own 'Bachelorette'  TV show - hoping we'll receive a rose at the conclusion of long talks and that the relationship will be deemed mutually beneficial. What I now know is clarity's strangest bedfellow is grief - because the next right thing for our family means physically leaving this current right thing and that's hard.

It all started with a conversation in May - a mere chat of introduction - it lasted about an hour and Philip concluded the conversation with an invitation to meet in person in June. He had been speaking with a colleague in his company and we were going to go to Georgia during our vacation to meet her and other office mates. On June 6, Philip and I drove to Georgia, toodled around neighborhoods, had a hard time sleeping at the hotel and got up the morning of June 7 so I could drop him at the office. I entertained myself by driving around to see houses we'd looked at online the night before. My sense of direction is sketchy at best, and I had no idea if Philip would be lunching with these new friends, so once I meandered back to the office just before noon, I stayed. I didn't want to leave him in the lobby for twenty minutes waiting on me (translation: I didn't want to get flustered if he called and end up lost somewhere), so I found a shady parking spot and sat in the rental car for two hours until he rang around 2PM saying he was ready for me to pick him up. Turns out he'd been meeting with a crew of eight people for nearly four hours and we were both starving - we went to lunch and he filled me in.

We sat at the table and he explained how well the meeting had gone and the mutual interest in pursuing a working relationship. I cried. It was a weird cry (not just because we were in a restaurant) because there were so. many. feelings. I was relieved because I had wanted it to go well and I believe in my husband; I was sad because it meant our time in Vancouver may be waning; I was excited because we knew we may be closer to family soon; I was overwhelmed because - moving. And at that moment, clarity invited her friend grief to set up shop and begin her process in what would be for our family the beginning of our 'conscious uncoupling' with Vancouver.

A little over a month later there was another phone call that affirmed mutual interest in the deal and another call was scheduled for three weeks later. August 2 brought another call - this one with more nuts and bolts: a timeline, a title, a potential salary, moving expenses. Late August, yet another call and here we sit in mid-October and the deal is nearly done. Funny thing about Grief, she seems to travel with two sidekicks - Fear and Anxiety. Good news for us this isn't our first rodeo and we've gotten pretty adept at allowing these two to pop in on occasion for a brief visit without allowing them to move in and redecorate. There's new schools, different school start times, my sketchy sense of direction, the fact we'll need a second car, oh yeah - a house would be a good idea, etc. But the cozy blanket of a warm welcome from those we love most eases  what Grief and her sidekicks throw our way. We're being intentional to be sure Fear and Anxiety learn to play nicely with Excitement and Anticipation to help initiate a smooth transition from here to there, so if we seem overwhelmed and scattered please chalk it up to our hosting a cacophony of emotions in and among the four of us.

There you have it - we Marcums will soon be on the move - in March, actually! And I'm excited about the journey we'll meander to our new home place. Mostly, though, I'm grateful- grateful Philip chose a career that he loves and that we've been able to make Vancouver home; grateful for the way our foursome has grown together in this place; grateful that Philip has hit a career stride that is fulfilling for him and our family; SO grateful that we'll soon be within driving distance of family and old friends; and I'm oh so grateful for the people who've come into our lives and will be with us as 'chosen family' forever. We'll be back to visit, that's for sure. Until then - strap in Southland...we're coming for you!

Adventures of a Dishwasher

My muse has been dormant for a bit this summer, as the summer has been dense. Alas - nothing conjures words more vividly than a ridiculously convoluted pathway toward a new appliance...

This whole scene began about 2.5 weeks ago - earlier really - as we renegotiated the terms of our lease. We asked if our landlord would consider allowing one month of our rent be used to purchase a new stove, dishwasher and new washer/dryer combo. There were some pretty intense stipulations that would have made that possible so we decided to forego the new stuff and make do with what we have. After all, despite the dishwasher being original to our building (30+ years old) and the washer/dryer being about the same age, they worked. The stove was "new to us" but came to live with us while our former landlord was trying to sell our suite. It's special...the top rack is clearly meant for another model so you have to be careful when pulling it out lest the entire standalone stove/oven come away from the wall, but again, it functions. And, we're renters - no big deal. Two and a half weeks ago, however, the dishwasher began not cleaning things (and, yes, this is totally a first world problem...). We began essentially washing the dishes before putting them into the unit only to have them come out feeling more grimy than when they went in, so we let our landlord know the time had come to replace this vintage piece.

She was lovely to work with and ordered a brand new, beautiful machine and forwarded all of the information about the delivery she had scheduled to us. I spent a couple of hours last week rescheduling the delivery as it was originally supposed to arrive while we were at "Meet the Teacher" night with our kiddos. A lovely person at Hudson's Bay worked with me to add our name and contact information to the order and even called back to confirm we were set with a delivery and installation on last Friday. Friday arrived and I called to confirm timing (as I was originally told to be home from 8AM - 9PM as my 'window' for delivery and installation). Ironically, the person on the other end of the phone was in Pennsylvania, but had moved from Mt. Pleasant, SC, where we used to live and we caught up about the friends we shared in common before she shared the machine had actually been delivered while we were at Meet the Teacher after all. Bizarre...seems our landlord's mother signed for it and it was already in our building. I sent Philip on to work and walked the kids to school and came back home to reach the bottom of this mystery. Upon calling back to the Bay, I learned that their delivery team doesn't do the installations...they subcontract that out to a third party. After about 30 minutes on the phone I was able to ascertain the subcontractor was a company by the name of Quick Contractors and got a contact phone number. Thus began the real adventures...

Fridays are funny when it comes to accomplishing good work - I called QUICK Contractors and hung out on hold for about 10 minutes before getting a voicemail box to leave a message, assuring me a QUICK callback. I left a message and called back again - hung out on hold about 8 minutes and got a person - EUREKA! They told me the installer had 'inadvertently' overlooked calling me and we weren't on their schedule. Normally, this would not be a thing, but...we had 9 kids coming over on Sunday to celebrate our daughter's 9th birthday in our suite - the notion of them playing around a boxed appliance was laughable. Surprisingly, I was able to very calmly explain my plight to the QUICK call dispatcher but their sympathy was lacking. After spending the afternoon waiting on a phone call for 4+ hours while doing party prep, I called back. I spoke with the same person who remembered my story (I appreciated that) and she assured me she would have someone call me back before 9PM, on a Friday remember, to schedule an installation time for Saturday.

You probably guessed by now that 9PM came and went with no phone call and we went on about our planned activities on Saturday and never missed a call then either. Then, late Sunday evening, as we recovered from party mode, the phone rang. It was Fast Track Appliances and they would be coming on Tuesday - a day I really couldn't make work. The woman was completely gracious (seems this wasn't her first rodeo with this sort of situation) and noted that we really needed the dishwasher installed on Monday. At this point, it's important to note the new machine was resting comfortably in a storage room of our building, but I'd been told that our building staff prefers not to store items in said storage room and I needed to get it out of there as soon as possible, so I was trying to do that. I'm a rule follower.

Monday morning - 9:30AM - the phone rings and my new BFF Brad is on the other end of the line. He said he'd have his installers there on TUESDAY. Again, I calmly explained that we had scheduled this install for Friday and I really needed to get the machine out of the storage room, yada, yada, yada. He kindly scheduled our install between 12-2PM provided I could print the paperwork he needed me to sign and have it ready for his peeps upon their arrival. Not a problem - on it. At 1:25PM, the installers arrived and I felt relieved. As they packed up after their 30 minute job, I noted that our landlord had paid the fee for 'old appliance removal' - alas - they're just the installers, not the removers. OK - so how do I handle this? Of course, just call the Bay and schedule another time for them to pick it up. Until then, they would just leave the vintage dishwasher all alone on our balcony to await its fate at the recycling center.

Lessons learned? 1 - Be careful what you ask for - it might just be more complicated than it seems and 2 - Shakespeare was on to something when he asked "What's in a name?" - I give Quick Contractors & Fast Track Appliances props for speaking their goal into the cosmos, but this whole "you gotta believe to achieve" notion isn't working for them. 3 - No one ever said life would be easy, but sometimes you end up, at least, with a good story to tell.

So here we are - after 30+ years, our apartment now has 2 dishwashers and my supervisor friend, Emily, at the Bay isn't returning my calls to come get our old friend. The good news? Our new machine is quieter than our refrigerator - a huge departure from the freight train we had up until yesterday. Carry on friends - may your dishes be clean and your patience be strong.

The beautiful, quiet new machine

The tired, sad machine

Brush with Death

It's been awhile since we've been on an adventurous family hike - as in a hike outside of downtown Vancouver/Stanley Park on trails we've never ventured. Today was the day - we set off for Murrin Park - which we've passed countless times en route to Whistler with its innocuous looking lake decorated with inflatable rafts and BBQ-ing families. We pulled into the parking lot, which incidentally, is fully paved and has painted lines and everything, partook in their washrooms (important to note because they set a tone) and began climbing a hill toward the lake you see from the highway.

Lovely little lake, right???

At this point, I must set forth a few indisputable facts:

1 - The Sea to Sky Highway is meant for cars - as it's a highway
2 - Familiarity with trails is essential to hiking confidence
3 - I do not like heights

We passed 15-20 lovely picnic tables - one of which hosted a full on BBQ and smelled delightful - and started following orange blazes on trees (note: this indicates hiking 'lite' and so we set our expectations). It was a relatively challenging trail in that it boasted a significant elevation change in a short distance, but there were stairs that trail maintenance folks had crafted and it was very user friendly. We took the trail leading to the Quercus Viewpoint and got to the top within half an hour. Upon arriving at the actual viewpoint, Philip and the kids took off and I said I was fine just waiting for their return. Shortly after they disappeared from sight, I started psyching myself up - there was only a 4ft elevation change from where I stood to the summit - and while the rock was steep, my family had just ambled up as if it was nothing. Surely I could do it too - I mean, I've watched Spider Man, I understand spreading your body out and finding nooks and crannies for your hands and feet. My bravado up, I scrambled up the rock face about halfway - meaning there were 24 vertical inches or so between me and flat ground - twenty four INCHES. Enter fatal mistake - I looked down. And in that moment I resonated with every single cartoon character who has seen the world beneath them spinning, and I froze. In that singular moment I morphed from 'brave mama who's totally got this' to 'Spidey Stuck' and my superhero delusions ended abruptly.

Initial ascent - note orange blaze

Trees conquering mountains - they're the real deal

About halfway to the viewpoint

We just hiked that

As I stuck on that granite face pretending it was my new kitchen countertops, I noticed a little evergreen tree who'd made itself at home on that perilous stone facade - we had a Tom Hanks/Wilson bonding experience as my heart rate increased and my palms started sweating. As I clung there, telepathically summoning my family back to me, a couple emerged from the other side of the summit with their toddler. In an effort to avoid awkwardness (impossible), I said matter of factly, "I'm just watching for my family - they're better with heights than their mum." The dad responded - "It's only 10 more steps to where they are - you should just go join them."

What went through my head:
"Well, thank you Captain Obvious (aka ASSHOLE) with your child strapped to you back descending this sheer rock face as if it's your in-home staircase! Of course, I'll just scamper to meet the three I love most in this world - there's just this small matter of my being SUPER-GLUED to this rock while the world spins beneath me, and the fact that I'm about to faint."

What came out of my mouth (thankfully):
"That's alright - it's good to hear their stories."

And they left - whew. It's easier to freak out when left alone.

But I wasn't alone for long - two precious dogs and their humans came along next - with a person who my children would assume a grandparent hiking alongside them. They acted like they didn't see me (how nice) and urged their dogs to show them how easy it was to descend this death trap with their four paws. And away they went.

Scaling the summit - I stayed right in the spot where I'm pictured, similar position, frozen in time

The view I missed - I've dealt with it - as I averted a stroke

Brave babies!

Note the road below - that's the Sea to Sky Highway - it comes into play later

My hero :)

As a charley horse developed in my right hip, I bellowed for my husband and upon the third yelling of our family name, our valiant 11 year old son appeared. I calmly requested his assistance as I was still super-glued, and he dutifully stifled his laughter as he scooted down to assist. As he scooted, Philip and Lydia appeared and Philip asked (jokingly), "Are you stuck?" Through gritted teeth and high heart rate haze, I meekly replied, "Yes." He thought I was joking. I was not.

He got me turned around and helped me scale down the 24 inches to flat ground (and let's be honest, even if I'd gone all 'dead bug' and just fallen down, I'd only have risked a minor elbow abrasion or so) - I began to see clearly and my knees quit pretending to be jell-o after a bit. We went down a different way than we'd come up - following the same orange blazes back to our car - or so we thought.

Orange blazes morphed into pink ribbons emblazoned with the name "Skid Trail" - y'all - Skid Row is more inviting. Perspective: we were the only ones 'hiking' in this area WITHOUT rappelling gear - no joke. We slid down moss covered rocks on our bums, climbed more rock faces and clung to trees to keep ourselves from tumbling down to the bottom of wherever we thought we were. We finally came upon a group of folks rock climbing (with packs, food, several pairs of shoes and HELMETS), they assured us the worst was over and we'd enjoy the rest of the hike. Let it be said - we were enjoying ourselves, but it was clear Philip and I both had unspoken concerns about the passage of time and how it might impact our progress toward our car. Thankfully, night doesn't fall in BC until well after 9:30PM this time of year...

I can fake pure joy - let it be noted.

Yeah - that's a trail - can't you tell?

The "OH CRAP, WHAT?" moment...

We started at the top of that rock in the background - no lie.

We descended into a cedar forest known as "Down through the Cedars" - it was lovely, really - but we lost track of our trail markers as we followed the path...the path that came to an end. And so, we retraced our steps, grateful for Lydia's keen eye and her discovery of the first orange blaze we'd seen in over half an hour. Confidence restored, we journeyed on - victory in our clutches - back uphill, past more rock climbers, and to another dead end. Dead. End.

Cedar Forest - yada, yada...

We gathered our senses and surveyed our surroundings - noting the road noise was closer, there were power lines in sight and a red trail marker across the stream from us. After taking turns crossing a fallen log over the stream, we found ourselves closer to the road noise and nose to nose with the red trail marker - which turned out to merely be a marking for the power lines anchored to the boulder in front of us. We decided to walk toward the road - yes, this goes against everything we've ever taught as parents - and we began scaling rocks. Yes - SCALING ROCKS - until we topped out and broke through grass onto the (you guessed it) SEA TO SKY HIGHWAY (meant for cars). And we began to walk - and saw the sign we'd seen earlier today noting it was 400m to the entrance to Murrin Park. Thankfully, after about 200m, a concrete barrier wall separated our pedestrian selves from the speed demon cruisers descending from Whistler and we were on a gravel path running alongside that innocuous lake once more. We were just on the other side. The kids sprinted the last bit to our car and we intentionally headed straight for Howe Sound Brewery - for we had had a brush with Death and lived to tell the tale - appys and adult beverages were in order.

Annnnd - the OTHER side of the lake...

In classic irony, we arrived home and my Vivo Fit yelled that I needed 1500 more steps to reach my daily goal. Oh you smug little computer chip who hitchhikes everywhere on my wrist. My goal today was simply not to have a stroke whilst hugging a mountain and I did that AND more. You, dear Vivo Fit, may kiss my hind end as today's achievement has been unlocked.

My Cup Runneth Over...

Earlier this month I broke into my fourth decade - this may come as surprise to many as we kept it low key and pretty quiet - NOT! This was my first birthday in a long time that was greeted with sustained celebration and fanfare and it was fun - I apologize to any and all who tired of the photos and exhortations that may have filled your social media feeds for a couple of weeks. I was caught off guard by the amount of fun I had ringing in this milestone 4-0 as I've never enjoyed being the center of attention or being the reason for celebration. The whole notion that I remained calm during a surprise party and overwhelmingly amazing facebook group chat and big trip was astonishing to me - I had anticipated having a panic attack at some point but never did! In fact - I found my introverted self energized by the big groups of people and the overt extroversion of the whole season. The whole experience has been surreal and a bit 'out of body' and has taken me some days to process. What I've come to understand is this: this celebration was 100% lifegiving because it really wasn't about me. Sure, June 11 is the day of my birth and that date in 2016 marked the beginning of my 40th trip around the sun, but seriously - this whole extroverted, glass raising, cake eating season has been about so much more. In fact, I kind of wish I'd turned 40 sooner - it's a good decade, I can already tell.

You see, this celebration of 40 years is actually a celebration of all the people and places who've gotten me to this day. My dear husband, parents, sister and brother-in-law conspired to gather people who've known me from birth and in every phase of my life in one place at one time to surprise me! What a GIFT! Every person gathered on that toasty SC day was a full-fledged contributor to my story - it was like an in-person reading of movie credits to this point and it was holy. I hugged the necks of people I hadn't seen in 15 years, I saw in-laws, aunts, uncles and cousins; high school friends, college friends and supper club friends; church friends, kids' friends and even got to greet two sweet baby girls still preparing for their July debut into the world. And - there was cake and banana pudding and BBQ! There's no way to describe how humbling it feels when you're surrounded by the very people who've meant the very most and to witness their interactions with one another. Had this been a movie, the camera would have panned out to capture a bird's eye view of the gathering (including the kids in the creek and playhouse) and I'd have narrated the scene saying, "I'm in awe. The gift of time and presence of people who've shaped me in ways they may not even know is one of the truest and most perfect expressions of community. Today's celebration is one of connection, grace and love. My cup runneth over." Depending on who wrote the script it might be more eloquent, but you get the point.

On the heels of this holy gathering I had the good fortune to run away to one of my most favorite places with the one who chooses to do life with me and I him. NYC has always been special to us - we discovered our city souls there, we honeymooned there, we returned there to celebrate anniversaries and it seemed only fitting to return to celebrate this birthday. We were lucky to join dear friends from Vancouver who were there celebrating there 10th anniversary - making this a communal celebration too - an extension of what occurred in SC just days before. The weather was perfect, the company ideal. There were toasts and desserts and yummy meals and then, on the 11th day of June, another gift - made possible by social media and my best friend's facebook savvy self. As I've grown, I've come to define treasure differently than accumulated wealth. I must say the gift of notes and photos from across the years is one of my most valuable treasures that I'm in the process of having printed and preserved to have forever. Rarely do I find myself overwhelmed to the point of speechlessness or tears, but all the messages from people throughout the years did just that.

Today, I'm grateful - this is the most public thank you note I've ever written and it goes out to all who've walked alongside me on life's journey so far. To those with whom I've shared a season in these 40 years, thank you. To those who've been with me the whole time, thank you. To those with whom I share the journey right now, thank you. To my parents - what joy it is to share these milestones with you! I'm grateful for the way you love me into who I am and for the way you love my children. To my sister - we've come a long way from sharing a room/clothes, teenage arguments and eye rolls! It's delightful to see you mother and to see the way our children love each other. To my husband - thank you for continuing to choose us as we navigate these adventurous waters in which we swim. I look forward to many more milestones and celebrations and years with you by my side. To you all - my expression of gratitude to and for each of you will be the living of my days in a manner that I hope does you proud for you have filled my cup to overflowing. My life has been made better by your being in it.