An ode to My Bubbs

Four years ago, we stood in the sand, by the turquoise waters, under the rustling palms- lost in one another's tearful eyes as we said "I do" in front of 30 of our closest friends and family.








I had always said that I wouldn't get married until after I turned 30 (I was going to become a doctor and travel, and I didn't want no man interfering with that!), but we met at 15, and somehow that tubby (he had baby fat when we met), loud, outgoing, energetic blue-eyed- boy convinced this stubborn girl to put on that white dress at 21 and meet him at the end of the isle to set out on life hand in hand.

I cannot begin to describe what he means to me... so I'll paraphrase, the good and the bad.

Dear Bubbs (I know, pet names are lame- sorry to let everyone down)



You can't let me beat you when we go out for runs- you almost always run two steps ahead, and no matter how much I train, you can always outrun me... It never fails- you shave your beard the day AFTER I clean the bathroom, and you don't clean up the hairs around the faucet. You leave your cleats in the backseat and it makes the car smell funny. You remember useless facts (like: the dot over the letter “i” is called a tittle), but you forget to tell me your sister is having a baby girl.





Sometimes I think you nap too much. You laugh in this crazy shrill voice in the theater at parts in the movie that no one else is laughing at. You like your sheets untucked, but I like them tucked, even though I leave your side intucked you're forever kicking mine out. You try to hide it when you eat McDonald's- even though I've NEVER gotten after you (how many times do I have o tell you that I don't care?).

You have an Indiana-Jones complex, and bring the snorkel everytime we go to the beach because you think you'll find sunken treasure. You refuse to laugh at my jokes, even when I think they're brilliant. You always try to take credit for things that I made or decorated. You make a funny face or do a silly voice, but can never remember how to do it again. You always want to leave the dishes for later, and I want to do them now (that fight in the movie "The Breakup" hit way too close to home). You love that Miley Cyrus song, and chant her name aloud everytime we listen to the radio...



You hug me too much, too long, and at the worst times (when I am trying to get things done) and it drives me crazy... I would miss it if you stopped.

You carry me to bed when I fall asleep watching a movie. You eat all my tofu-laced vegetarian dishes and tell me they taste great. You take me for sushi all the time, even though you hate seafood. You kiss me on the shoulder every night before you go to sleep. You hug me in silence, so tight, when my world feels like its falling apart. You are so quick to say "I'm sorry" and always say "Let's never fight again" after even the smallest disagreement (which always makes me laugh). You catch me fresh crab, clean it, cook it and even take it out of the shell and then throw a frozen pizza in the oven for yourself. You're not afraid to dream big (just like we all used to do as kids). You don't give up when you really want something- you don't let setbacks crush you. You love your family. You think your mom is one of the funniest people on this planet, and you make no secret of the fact that your dad is your hero. You tear-up in sports movies, when the underdog begins to find his strength. You can make me laugh, even when I'm really mad at you.



When I came home from work, so broken about all these kids who have no parents, you agreed that we should adopt one day. You're cool with me wanting to be a career woman, and are excited to be a stay at home dad. You do this dolphin impression that I love. You tell me I am beautiful all the time, but you tell me that I am incredibly compassionate more (you focus on my desire to be defined as a person who makes this world a little brighter). You're always "on board" when I talk about doing things differently (never having our "own" babies, not getting a mortgage or not living in Suburbia forever...gasp!). You seem genuinely amazed by everything I do (you read my blog and say I should write a book, you see something I sew and say I should be a designer, I re-arrange the furniture and you say I should be a decorator... on and on). You see the good in people, you understand the value in persevering in relationships with people who are difficult. You don't judge, or become easily angered (except that time I punched you in the back of the head... again, I'm sorry, but you had it coming- on that we'll never see eye-to-eye), and you don't put people down. You are genuine- and people sense it mere moments from meeting you. You bring life to the most boring parties/get-togethers.

You bring excitement, adventure and joy to my life. In many ways we're so different, and I love it because you challenge me, and I admire your strengths (because they're often my weaknesses), I am a better person because of knowing you, being influenced by you, arguing with you and sharing life with you.



To many more years... the good and the bad... I love you.

xoxoxo,
Chels

Create.

It may be true that one man's trash is another man's treasure...

It's been just over two months and counting that I have made honest on my commitment to stop buying new clothing. I even side-stepped the mall last month and opted to make my friend, Jacqui, a recycled gift rather than throw money down on something new.

No, I'm not talking about a re-gifter closet...


I made Jacqui a gift out of recycled materials. I got back into my sewing groove and designed a couple throw pillows for her living room made from vintage cloth and pillow forms I scored at ValuVillage.


About four hours later I turned a heap of someone's fabric scraps into these little gems.














Pier 1 charges about $40 a pillow, the materials in mine may have run me a whoppin' $3.50 each. I enjoyed the process, designed something entirely to suit her (she's a little bird crazy), and saved more "junk" from entering our overflowing landfills. We're such a wasteful culture, but I am convinced that with a little work we can learn to see beauty and possibility in things that we consider trash and stop thinking that everything must be "new."

Finding Calcutta

Some dream of Paris. Others dream of Tahiti.

I dream of Africa.



I have always held a fascination of Africa- its culture, varied landscapes, and exotic wildlife, but most of all, I am fascinated by its people.



In grade 7, as I began to understand that poverty was only scratching the surface of the problems in Africa- I vowed to become a doctor. I thought I would pack my bags the moment I graduated from medical school, move to Africa, open a clinic and live out my days serving the people.

That dream followed me all the way to UBC. I completed one semester of pre-Med, and then pulled out.

My grades weren't the problem (I had a B- average)... it was my heart. In the 3 months I lived there, it never felt right.

I worked for a year as a lifeguard, swim teacher and water aerobics instructor, trying to give myself time to figure out what had happened.

For six years I had dreamt of being a doctor in Africa- was I really doing the right thing by pulling out of the race after only three months?

I re-enrolled in school in 2003, but this time by correspondence- working part time and doing school part time. It suited me well because I really had no clue what my game plan was.

All I knew was that my life's heartbeat was to help people.

Mother Teresa's call to the public was that each person must "Find your Calcutta."


The first time I came across that message, it hit me like a ton of bricks: impoverishment isn't confined in Africa, and poverty comes in many forms (physical, spiritual, emotional etc.).

I had wanted make my entrance into Africa in the role of cavalry. I wanted to be a hero, a savior to the people.

I had wanted my job to define me and my knowledge to lead me.

But God wanted humility to define me and my heart to lead me.

I have found Calcutta, she's right outside my door. Sometimes she comes in and eats with me, and what I cannot shake is that, had I let my career, not my heart, lead me, I wouldn't have noticed nor recognized her unless she had an ailment that only medicine could fix.

Would You Dare?

I got this forward and it's insane! I googled it to see if it was real, and there are even videos on YOUTUBE of it. All I want to know is who's the crazy who figured out that you could swim that close?

In Zimbabwe, Africa, you will find the magnificent Victoria Falls at a height of 128m. The location is known as 'The Devil's Swimming Pool'.


During the months of September and December, people can swim as close as possible to the edge of the falls without falling over!





To see the video go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVN9KnWy-H8&feature=related

Afraid of Being "ALL TALK"

Over the past year, I've found myself wrestling with finding a balance between living in our society and taking responsiblity for the marginalized.

In a society which is all about what you can get- how do you continue to live in it selflessly? Is a question that I'm becoming increasingly troubled with.

Its not going away.

I spend a lot of time in thought, and what bothers me even more is that despite all the thinking that I do... I don't feel like I'm really doing anything and it's driving me crazy.

I have to step out of the Western mindset that tells us that "giving money = help"

While I acknowledge that I am among the world's wealthiest (on a global scale where a third of the world lives on less than $2 a day), and that will still be true when Scotty pulls out of the workforce and enters SFU as a full-time student at the end of the month, money won't be my best answer to changing my world around me.

I just don't want to be one of those people who justifies living a self-focused life by saying "I'm a good person."



While I continue battling this out, I'm finding my job surreal- the girls continue to amaze me- saying some of the most profound things. Sometimes I feel as though they're closer to really figuring it all out than I am.

Today, a 13 year old girl, after she lugs two garbage bags full of clothes into the livingroom that she wants to give to thrift: "I've started to realize that I don't need a lot of clothes." (Sidenote: these kids have nothing, no joke, they are in a continual state of moving from group home to group home, they accumulate very little).

Hands down, these kids that I've had the priviledge of working with over the past year have given me my greatest compliment (last week- I balled as she said it- she stared me in the eyes and spoke right to my core... I'm still shaken)and my most treasured gift (after knowing me only a few weeks, she dug through her meager belongings and presented me with a gift that she felt was "perfect" for me) and have demonstrated true courage and character as they battle horrors that no one, let alone a child, should ever have to endure.