Wiedemann Family 2019
Throwing it back to October of 2019 to share my family’s annual photos.
Throwing it back to October of 2019 to share my family’s annual photos.
I come from what Canada deems a “large” family with four younger sisters and a brother, as well as now two brother-in-laws and a niece, so figuring out a date for family photos comes with a ton of conflicts, re-organization, and generally some tears. But eventually we all find ourself in a single place wearing a non-clashing, if not actually matching, colour scheme.
This year my mom used our family photos as an excuse to explore her love of history, and as golden hour approached, we found ourselves outside a castle-like structure in the Hamilton region.
Portraits
Pachrick
Hannah
Eve
Acacia
Beth
Allysin
Kyle
Roxanne
Family
Wiedemann Family
Siblings
The Van Ysseldyk Family
The Martin Family
Mom & Dad
Odds & Sods
Part of what makes photographing your own family fun is ending up with all sorts of unexpected photos. They’re not portraits, they’re not really group photos - they’re the behind the scenes moments of what was happening as your family hung out between poses.
Favourites || March
I’m sitting in my living room on a gloomy, chilly Holy Saturday (the day between Good Friday and Easter), a cup of coffee at my side, and the latest Ask N.T. Wright Anything - Qs About Crucifixion - playing on my phone.
Covid-19 has had Canada in isolation for the past three or four weeks now, so the times are different than I ever would have expected.
Putting this out a bit late - it’s almost mid-April.
I’m sitting in my living room on a gloomy, chilly Holy Saturday (the day between Good Friday and Easter), a cup of coffee at my side, and the latest Ask N.T. Wright Anything - Qs About Crucifixion - playing on my phone.
Covid-19 has had Canada in isolation for the past three or four weeks now, so the times are different than I ever would have expected.
And my sister, Hannah, has moved in with her cat to keep me and my cat company.
We’ve been planning what kind of plants I’m going to put on my balcony this year, and I placed an order for seeds . . . . I ordered way more than I probably need, but I think this year calls for the hope that planting a garden needs and brings.
To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow
- Audrey Hepburn
I’m sure I will share tons of things from my garden throughout the spring and summer. 😊
I also want to be more specific about the things that have stood out to me, or brought learning or joy to me each month, but this one has only a couple things that have affected me in good ways this past month.
Father Brown
A British TV series, set in the 50s, about a Catholic priest who solves murder mysteries?? Yes Please!
By this point we’re all aware that I love watching these types of shows. A pg-13 show about a loveable cast of characters solving crime. This one comes complete with Mark Williams playing the main character. You might remember Mark as one of the bad guys in the 90’s live action 101 Dalmatians, or Mr. Weasley in Harry Potter. As Father Brown he comes across as endearing - warm, wise and upright.
I was impressed by the way this show treated the Catholic/Christian faith. Although I don’t hold to all the beliefs depicted, and some of the episodes depicted members of the church’s leadership as criminal, or certain beliefs as outdated, overall they treated the church and its beliefs with respect.
My favourite thing about this show though is the communal aspect of the main character’s lives. Father Brown, his housekeeper (Mrs. McCarthy), their rich neighbour (Lady Felicia), and her chauffeur/handyman (Sid) form a tight knit friend group who live so intertwined so that although none of them are romantically involved, and none of them are blood family - they are constantly there for one another. They have tough conversations where they question each others decisions, morals and beliefs, but they also laugh and show up for one another, making sure everyone is cared for (and we see this care extend to other parishioners and the town) despite their differences. As much as I love a good romance, I think it does my heart and life good to see other models for close, fulfilling relationships - especially as in the case of Father Brown who chooses to live a fully celibate life as a sign of devotion to God. Thank you to the writers of Father Brown for taking this seriously and not having it appear as a lonely, cursed life, nor as something that a priest is not capable of truly abiding by.
Anyway - British accents, endearing characters, interesting cases, random 50s historical facts, as well as being based on a series of short stories by G.K. Chesterton . . . I definitely enjoyed this watch.
Ranunculus
Last year I received a bouquet that included some ranunculus, and instantly I fell in love.
So this year to brighten up a gloomy March I bought a whole bouquet of them from The Watering Can.
The Model Prayer
More commonly known as The Lord’s Prayer or the Our Father, a friend of mine recently passed on this version - and I love it. I’ve spent the last several weeks learning it and praying it.
Born Again This Way by Rachel Gilson
I wrote an entire post dedicated to this book, so if you’re interested in reading it, you can find it here. If you’ve read it yourself, please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts!
Favourites || February
As someone who doesn’t really enjoy winter, I find this month drags on slightly. But here are a couple things that made this February a bit brighter:
February is always a little bit dreary.
As someone who doesn’t really enjoy winter, I find this month drags on slightly. But here are a couple things that made this February a bit brighter:
Northern Rescue
This Canadian show is a family drama that explores the way grief effects each person in different ways. Throw in a little mystery, it’s PG-14 rating, and a live pet penguin, and this show was a perfect fit for me.
Created by CBC, it is now available on Netflix and has been renewed for a 2nd season.
Valentine’s Flowers
Billie Flower Co. offers flower subscriptions, and I absolutely loved the bouquet she sent me for February. The perfect combination of pink, red, and gold.
Pesto
My new favourite thing to eat is pesto and chicken. My go to pesto recipe is this vegan one from Paleo Running Momma.
Valentine’s Box
My sister, Eve, started selling gluten free baked goods this past year.
For Valentine’s Day she offered mixed boxes with two different types of cupcakes (Champagne Raspberry & Red Velvet) and Double Chocolate Cookies.
You can find her, and place an order for some delicious cakes on her website: EM Artisan Goods.
What’s something that brightened your February? Leave it in the comments!
Thoughts On Being Single & Celibate In A World That Says Sex Is The Answer
The first time I picked up one of these autobiographies, it was for them.
I wanted to understand the experience.
And to understand the theology.
To understand how and where they intersected.
And if it really mattered.
But now a year in - I read them for me.
Photo: Allysin Leah
Anyone who’s taken a look at the list of books that I’ve read in the last year or two will probably notice the increase of books written by gay celibate Christians, or gay Christians in mixed orientation marriages.
A year ago when I ordered the first one - Gay Girl Good God by Jackie Hill Perry - it was because one of my very best friends, someone who was passionate about God, the church, worship and missions had just told me that they were gay and with tears in their eyes had confessed that they didn’t know what this meant for them because they didn’t want to be celibate their whole life. What if being gay and Christian meant just that?
My heart hurt with them.
I knew these feelings well, not because I’m gay, but because I was a 30 year old, single Christian, and because of these facts was (and am) celibate with no guarantee that marriage is in my future.
(A fact that at different times has caused me to have panic attacks because of how desperately I desire to partner my life with someone who has the same values and beliefs I do. Someone who chooses me as the person they will prioritize above every other human on the planet. To create community with them, and invite people in and pray together and talk about theology and what we’re learning, and attend weddings together, and . . )
The first time I picked up one of these autobiographies, it was for them.
I wanted to understand the experience.
And to understand the theology.
To understand how and where they intersected.
And if it really mattered.
But now a year in - I read them for me.
At this point my friend has decided to pursue a relationship with someone of the same sex.
But I find that I can’t lower my values.
In fact, in reading these books, marriage has become more sacred. And my values have risen and become firmer.
Marriage is something to be valued and entered into not because of burning desire, or mushy emotions - although desire and warm feelings should play a part - but instead, as a Christian, marriage is so much more.
This holy act where two separate, opposite beings become one.
The reflection of heaven and earth, and Christ and the church becoming one in the age to come when all things are reconciled, set right and restored. When finally our relationship and oneness with God is realized in full.
Until that day marriage is a reminder, and an image, of the Gospel.
Two things that are very different, but simply belong together becoming one.
And so I turn down dates with people who don’t believe the same things I do, and say no to offers of casual sex, and instead try to do my best to embrace singleness and chastity. And so I find solace in the stories of my gay brothers and sisters who are also choosing to set aside their own desires to preserve and uphold this vision for marriage. This vision for what it means to reflect who God is to each other and creation.
They make me feel less weird, less lonely as I make choices that are so different from the culture I find myself living in.
Decisions that are difficult to make and sometimes leave me feeling lonely in the wake of a culture inundated with the idea that sexual expression is our identity.
That any curbing of it is repression.
That intimacy can only be found in romantic partnerships, and our happiness comes from finding a soul mate.
A culture that creates art, and stories and music, and almost every single one affirms that romance and sex is where we find our fulfilment as human beings.
But the stories of people like David Bennett, Rachel Gilson, Jackie Hill Perry, Becket Cook, Gregory Coles, Laurie Krieg, Sam Allberry, Christopher Yuan, Rosaria Butterfield and the countless others whose stories I don’t yet know, remind me that our longings point to something way bigger, way more epic, way more important, and cannot truly find fulfillment in another human being or human relationships.
They can only find true fulfillment in God.
And in this they tell me that I am not crazy for believing what I believe, or choosing to live by the sexual ethic I see prescribed in the Christian Bible.
Instead they remind me that God is good and loving and generous, and this makes surrender and sacrifice make sense.
And in fact somehow, in God, it’s absolutely worth it.
"Functional" Depression
But maybe right here in the depression. In the darkness of having no hope of fixing my life for myself. Maybe in the midst of accepting I have nothing left to chase. . . . Maybe this is exactly where God finds me. In the surrendering to the lack of control, maybe God can finally bring me life.
The depression is back.
I hate it.
I hate that it creeps up on me. Never letting me know it’s coming until it’s inky black tendrils are wrapped around my soul.
When it does, suddenly I’m that girl again.
The grade 4 overweight brunette who gets made fun of at school for being smart and respectful and ugly. Funny how being smart seemed like a curse back then.
The thing that made the other kids hate me.
It made me different, and they used it to tell me that it made me not worth wanting.
Unfortunately ugly still feels like a curse.
The amount of times I’ve been told that I’m kind or generous or caring or Christ-like, but none of these things are enough for someone to choose me first.
It’s all about attraction, and whatever people find attractive - I guess I’m not it.
And so here I am - twenty years later, back to feeling like the round faced school girl with the pigtails, crying silently on the bus, looking out the window to keep my class mates from seeing.
I remember the pitying eyes of the parents waiting for their kids at the end of driveways and on street corners, sorry for me, but glad it wasn’t their kid getting off the bus with tears in their eyes.
Except I’m not 10 anymore.
I’m 31.
And when the darkness finds me again.
When it reminds me that I’m no one’s first choice. That I’m smart and kind and passionate, but none of these things are enough because I am unattractive and unwanted. The silent tears find me at my desk, or the gym, or when I’m grocery shopping.
”I’m not well,” I say, hoping they’ll assume I have the flu.
I pop in my headphones and pretend I’m listening to a really emotional podcast, or some hauntingly melancholy music.
I have become the master of hiding the pain.
Of allowing tears to stream so quietly and drying them without notice so people find themselves questioning whether I seem sad or just tired.
“Functional depression” is what my therapist calls it.
It’s been a long time since it’s been this bad.
3 years. Maybe 4.
Not that I haven’t been sad in that time.
In fact I went through some massive heart breaks, and struggled with some major anxiety.
But I always felt like there was something I can do.
That I had agency.
That if I just went back to the drawing board and came up with a better plan, I could fix my life.
If I was just kinder.
More generous.
If I volunteered more.
If I lost weight.
If I got out more.
Read more.
Tried harder.
I could change me, and if I could change me, then maybe someone would actually see me.
Maybe I would no longer be kind, but ugly.
The funny, friendzoned sidekick.
”Everything I want, but I don’t actually want you”
Maybe they could just see me.
Because if they could just actually see me, then they could choose me back.
But recently I’ve come to the end of myself.
No more drawing boards.
No more plans worth trying.
No more thoughts on how to be good enough.
Just me.
And so I feel depressed.
And the depression tells me that I am too broken to be loved.
Not whole enough to ever be wanted.
But I equally feel like I don’t have the right to be depressed.
”Come on, you can do this,” I say as I force myself out of bed in the morning.
”Just keep moving” I whisper as I park my car and have to convince myself to go through the movements of getting out.
”You got this,” deep sigh, “I’m so tired.” I admit while staring myself down in the mirror, and using the sink to brace my collapsing spine.
A deep breath and a desperate prayer to heaven when opening my office door.
Weary not in the ways sleep can fix.
And so I get coffee with friends,
And laugh loudly,
And buy flowers,
And volunteer more,
And write cards,
And remember peoples’ birthdays,
And try to let the world know that each person matters.
Because this matters, right?
Life matters, right?
I’m a Christian.
I believe deeply that every human being matters, that they are known and loved and valuable. . . .
How do I believe these things so deeply.
That we don’t earn our worth.
That we don’t have to strive to be good enough.
That I don’t need to convince the God of the Universe to be on my side, because he already chose to be there . . .
And yet today it doesn’t feel like it.
Today - at the end of all my plans.
With nothing left to try.
Nothing left to give.
Even with the deep conviction that God is with me, it feels like he has the power to set everything right, and yet he isn’t.
Why isn’t he doing anything?
The scriptures say I don’t have to be afraid because God is with me.
My mom says that being with God is our fulfilment, that his presence is enough.
It’s what we were created for. That type of deep, perfect community. That beautiful oneness. The one we spend our lives searching for in one another - it’s actually found in God.
And even here in the depths - I think that’s true.
But it’s annoying that I can’t get it by trying harder, or being better.
Relationships never seem to come that way.
They come from being chosen and trust.
How do I trust God enough to let the fact that he chose me be enough?
How do I accept his seeing me as where I find my worth?
Hard work I get . . . but knowing how to just be wanted, be chosen? That’s an experience I don’t know how to understand.
I’m out of plans.
But maybe right here in the depression. In the darkness of having no hope of fixing my life for myself. Maybe in the midst of accepting I have nothing left to chase. . . . Maybe this is exactly where God finds me. In the surrendering to the lack of control, maybe God can finally bring me life.
As Jesus once said,” You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.”
Or translated differently, “What great happiness and abundant goodness is offered to you when you feel totally dependant on God! For there is no charge to enter the realm of heaven’s kingdom.
What delight comes to you when you wait upon the Lord! For you will find what you long for.”
All right God. You’re my choice. You’re all I’ve got left.
I want you to be my stop.
Please rescue your silently weeping daughter from this bus.