My Father's Daughter


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This day in history: Welcome to the world Heather May

Today is my 28th birthday. It kind of snuck up on me. I’m glad that I’m 28 now. I think it’s a much nicer number than 27. I have always preferred even numbers.

So far I have been given two gifts. A very nice pen set from my husband and sister-in-law and brother-in-law that includes a fountain pen (the reason for the gift). I’m very happy! Suddenly my handwriting is beautiful and my thoughts are coherent. Who knew I only needed a fountain pen all this time (I wonder what might happen if I gave up my office computer for a typewriter…).

My other gift was actually given to me a few days ago, but has reached its peak today. Ada, my youngest niece, has given me a cold, and I suspect I know the precise moment it was given. Last Wednesday I had the awesome priviledge of babysitting her. Due to an unfortunate incident with a full sippy cup of water and little hands that can now unscrew sippy cup lids and love to play in water, I had to change her from wet pj’s into dry ones. I had just gotten her shirt off when she threw herself against me, wrapped her little arms around my neck in a big hug and with her face in mine said, “You are the best Aunt Hez I’ve ever seen”.

Who’s to say which is the better gift?


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On a trip to Frumpsville

I feel frumpy today. And not just today. I have been feeling really uncomfortable in my clothes lately. I’ve always dressed for comfort – by wearing clothes that are comfortable and clothes that I feel comfortable wearing; meaning I feel good physically but also emotionally. I try to wear what I feel suits me and looks good. But lately, I don’t know, I guess I’ve just been missing the mark. It could be the several extra pounds that I didn’t used to carry (only some of them I shouldn’t actually be carrying according to my BMI [although you’d think I’d be used to my roundness by now]). Clothes fit me differently now and though I keep buying bigger sizes, nothing seems to make me feel good anymore. Or it could be that the stereotype exists for a reason, and frumpiness is really part of this new librarian persona I’m adopting. Or it could be a phase. The other day my sister said that she went through a frumpy stage, so maybe I’m following in her footsteps (which, incidentally, are made with really cool shoes and boots, a far cry from my dorky footwear these days — sigh, I remember the days she envied MY shoes…). Whatever it is I hope I can get over it. It’s really affecting my confidence. Don’t they say the clothes make the man? I don’t know if that’s true, but I can tell you, it sure feels like it defines the woman.


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How Shania Twain taught me about God’s love

I must make yet another confession. I like country music. Please don’t judge me. It gets worse. I like Shania Twain. Seriously, it doesn’t make me a bad person.

Currently one of my favourite Shania songs (they don’t stay favs for long — I don’t know if you’ve noticed, her songs are beginning to sound very much the same…) is “I’m Jealous”. It’s a song about being so in love that the protagonist is jealous of the moon, the sun, the wind, and the rain for their ability to caress her lover’s skin. The chorus is as follows: “I don’t want to share you with nothing else, gotta’ have you to myself, I can’t help it I’m so in love, I just can’t get you close enough”.

It occurred to me that that is how our jealous God feels about us. And the neat thing is, the wind, the sun, the moon, the rain, are all gifts of His love, they are a caress from Him. This was an emotional moment for me. I struggle with understanding God’s love for me, and maybe even accepting it. So anything that can help me to gain an understanding that I am the object of this incredible, undeserved love is great, even if it is a country song.