outWORD by Matte Downey

Yes. It is possible. This past week was a challenging one for me. I was battling some form of exhaustion which left me weak in body and mind and spirit. Nevertheless, I had French classes to attend and lots of other commitments and pages of stuff to accomplish and in the midst of all that, a few situations happened that brought out the worst in me. At times like that I wonder just how much progress I have made in becoming a more mature and compassionate and spiritual person. Yes, Jesus has touched me, but I still occasionally battle with petty thoughts and immature attitudes and tantrums that any 9-year-old would be ashamed to admit to. Someone prayed for me just over a week ago, asking that I would have more grace for myself, and that was my mantra all week...grace, grace, grace. To just walk one step forward at a time, live one moment at a time, grabbing hold of as much grace as I could reach from my lowly position and falling headlong into grace when I could not stand anymore. I pr

My French class had a party yesterday. We ate lots of ethnic food, played some games, sang French songs, listened to some students talk about their hobbies, and then they had a draw for prizes. I ended up with this lovely item pictured here. The only problem is, I have no idea what it is. At first I thought it was a candle holder, but I don't have any pointy upside down triangle candles that would fit. Plus, they would drip horribly through the silver wire. It can't be a vase because flowers have long stems. I guess I could balance an orange or apple on top of the two cones, but what would be the point? It is not a toothpick or chopstick holder nor a napkin or raisin reservoir . It could obviously be used as a cat toy but I don't think that is its intended purpose. A decorative trumpet- ish thingy perhaps? I don't know. What do you think? There are a bunch of situations in my life right now that I just feel clueless about. I am learning to give myself grace to be less

I am tired today. It has been just a few too many days in a row filled with non-stop activities and large groups of people and lots of stimulation and a few things going wrong. I love all of it (except the things going wrong), but it takes a toll on someone like me who is not naturally an extrovert, but can act extrovertedly sometimes. In fact, I overextended myself to the point of having a bit of a meltdown. Pretty ugly one, too. On Sunday night, I felt a haze of anger and frustration come over me and I did not have the strength to fight it off. Or perhaps I did and simply made the choice not to. People were gracious enough to forgive my outburst of inappropriate words and actions and prayed for me (we were at church, after all ). I knew I was overtired and had not eaten properly, so I went home and got some sleep and ate a meal or two and thought that was the end of it. But - whammo - last night I felt the unwelcome frustration come at me again at the end of a long day of running

We are currently in Ontario spending the Easter weekend with friends. I was introduced to Guitar Hero ( woohoo I ROCK!) and renewed my skills at Dance Dance Revolution (now able to get by on the hard setting to some degree). We attended a Good Friday service this morning and then I had a nap because the late night driving was catching up with me. I had an interesting dream just before I woke up. I was walking down the sidewalk of a long street. Then I encountered high snow which made the sidewalk impassable. I figured I would step into the street. An ambulance was parked in the street as some sort of commotion was going on. There were several high plastic recycle-type bins blocking my access to the street. I clambered over the yellow bins and jumped onto the street. The ambulance attendants called over to me that I should not have done that. Those yellow bins were filled with toxic waste. Oops. I didn't know. It was one of those dreams that you are sure is trying to t

No, this was not a dream. Dean called me yesterday to let me know that he had just been given tickets to the Foo Fighters concert that night at the Bell Centre (where the Canadiens play hockey). Arghghghhhhh , it was one of those days and I was tired and grouchy and weepy and discouraged and overwhelmed and not all in the mood for listening to really loud music, sitting with screaming fans, and then making fake chat-chat with famous people. You see, we had backstage passes since Dean knows one of the musicians who plays Hagstrom guitars, a product of Dean's company. Well, it seemed that Dean wanted my less than fun company anyway, so away we went. Our tickets led us to pretty much the best seats one could have - seats being the operative word here since we could have been closer, but it would have been in the fenced-in, free for all, herd-like standing arrangement on the floor in front of the stage. Thankfully, we were sitting on actual seats, stage left, second row up from the

Dean is back on this continent again. Yes! I picked him up from the airport this afternoon and he was in good spirits despite having had very little sleep in the past 5 days due to overnight flights and time zone changes and mondo meetings at his trade show. It was no surprise that after we had a chance to talk and smooch, he grabbed a quick bite to eat and then spent most of the evening on the couch sleeping. A friend of mine just called and asked if we were attending a party a mutual friend of ours was having tonight. I responded in the negative, citing Dean's recent return and his exhaustion. Sigh. I would like to be at the party. Sometimes sacrifice sucks. Really, sacrifice sucks all the time. That's why they call it sacrifice. No one goes, " Woohoo , let's get our sacrifice on!" I have never heard, "I don't have enough sacrifice in my life." Who would ever say, "I would like to pursue a career in sacrifice?" And yet, sacrifice is pa

I am challenged in certain areas of inter-personal and social skills. Embarrassing sometimes, really. I don't know why talking to certain types of people is so easy for some and so difficult for me. I was asking God about this last night and he reminded me of the pasta man in Cayo Santa Maria. There was a guy who made pasta to your specifications at the buffet in the Cuban resort we were at in February. I decided to have the pasta for lunch one day and noticed that the man was training a young guy for the job. The experienced pasta man stood to the side while I instructed the young fellow on which ingredients to put in my sauce (just pointed at stuff because my Spanish is no good and I didn't know how well he spoke English). While the sauce was simmering, he scooped the spaghetti into a bowl to dump it in boiling water. He took one scoop. Then he took a second scoop. Oh boy, I really didn't need a second scoop. I am not a huge eater and hate wasting food, but I bit my ton

Things pile up. Snow. Troubles. Meetings. Appointments. Garbage. Dirt. That's just life. This week I have activities 6 nights in a row and am stealing a few moments just before I leave for home group to write something here and eat a delayed lunch. I have not cleaned my house in 12 days (don't jump to conclusions, the cat litter is still scooped out daily). My car developed a strange noise last week which resulted in two lengthy trips to the mechanic and many an insightful but unplanned hour spent reading in the garage waiting room. More inspectors and my builder tracked through my house snapping pictures of all things crooked and cracked. I did two airport runs and will do another one in 3 days. I had my supposed-to-be-annual trip to the doctor where I gave him samples of bodily fluids and let him poke and prod me (everything in excellent shape, he told me). It was a snowy day so the nurse doing the blood tests was stuck in her driveway and the doctor had to do the needlework

Despite a snow storm of epic proportions yesterday, Dean and I decided (mostly Dean) to go ahead with our plans for the day. We bought shoes for Dean (pretty much the only customers in the store), stopped by to pick up a friend and then went out to dinner downtown, our window table offering views of snowplows and people on their cross country skis passing by on the city sidewalk. After that we caught the subway and headed off to a swing club to learn some new moves and have some fun. The band that was supposed to play that night never made it, but the club manager cranked up the cd's and the group of 20 or so had a great time. The dance instructor said he was going to dance with every lady there that evening if they were up for it, so I allowed him to twist and turn and vault me around the dance floor while I giggled with delight. I have only had three beginner dance lessons but he made me look good. We got back to our car and started the long drive home which Dean saw as more of

Tea is 6 years old today. I bought her a special tuna treat made especially for cats by IAMS (good quality stuff, people). When I placed the delicacy on a dish and set it in front of her, she just sniffed and stared at it, occasionally pawing at it like she would a toy mouse. You must understand that Tea was abandoned as a kitten (before she was found by a kind family who gave her to us) and as a result, feels she will never have enough food and eats everything in sight, including fuzz on the floor, paper ribbons, and all the tasty bits she can steal from the plates of Jazz or Dean or myself. Today, she just eyed the tuna in sauce like it was an odd new addition to the kitchen floor. For some reason, she did not recognise it as food. We were watching a video of John Wimber on Wednesday night and he was speaking about his journey to experience God as a healer, which included praying for peoples' healing for almost a year without results. One of the insights God gave him was that H

Saturday night I was talking to a friend of mine; not just an ordinary friend, but one of those rare humans that you can say anything to. No matter what I reveal about myself, she still gazes at me with large, wondrous eyes which somehow always manage to be filled with delight and sheer pleasure at being in my company. She is also astonishingly honest and insightful. I was telling her that I was having trouble relating to someone and I didn't know why. Every time I get around this other person I figuratively and sometimes literally, stand there with my mouth open and shake my head, wondering why they do the things they do. Their behaviour, language and mannerisms just seem so odd to me, and I know the lack of understanding on my part is not helping the relationship any. Sometimes I feel guilty about my thoughts, like they are bordering on judgments. Other times I think I am discerning some issues that might be under the surface. Some of my reactions resemble pettiness and bitternes

We had a girls' night yesterday and amidst six-minute pizzas and creating silly videos while wearing strange hats and munching on decadent banana chocolate pecan bread, we talked about fantasy. I admitted to having a mind that loves to create scenarios of how things could go, usually perfectly or terribly, best case or worst case scenarios. I imagine details of events, relationships, social or church gatherings, and the occasional stint as a world-famous artist. Some of it is pretty harmless and excellent fuel for fiction writing, but some of it could drag me into a vicious cycle of not dealing well with disappointment. THE CYCLE 1. Disappointment. We all encounter this in life, but what do we do with it? 2. Denial. One way of coping with disappointment is to deny the impact the event had on us. After all, it seems weak and embarrassing and immature to admit that some person's actions or not getting that job made me cry for an hour. So I tell myself it is no big deal. I fail