Canada

Dear Canada,


My newest friend, I don’t even know where to begin! You are everything I dreamed you would be and more! From your endearing accents to your delicious candy (Wunderbar wins!); from your gorgeous landscape to your Night Dancing moose – oh how I love thee!

I have often regretted that we didn’t meet on that fateful night all those years ago, but now I see that it wasn’t meant to be, because the timing wasn’t right (not to mention that the Detroit/Windsor area is nothing to write home about … err, I mean write a blog about). I am so glad that our first encounter was this last weekend: when I could more fully appreciate your beauty with some beautiful people.

Though I am having a hard time dealing with the reverse culture shock I’ve been experiencing since my return, it has caused me to reflect on the beauty of your culture and your people even more. And, as you can well imagine, what a rude “welcome home” I received upon my attempt to return to my homeland (that just might be my next letter). As unfortunate as that was, it made me appreciate the welcoming spirit of your people even more. And in that spirit, to the following I give a special “thank you”:

Ronda – the first Canadian to greet us warmly upon entering.
Warden Braden – warm smiles, handcuffs, free firewood, first Canadian handshake.
Warden Chris – free firewood, birch syrup advice.
Theo – a true Canadian chipmunk (the friendliest one I’ve met!)
Margaret – a fellow scat expert.
Tim Horton – after two days without, your coffee was much appreciated!

I do hope that we are able to enjoy each other’s company soon.

Much Affection,

Julie

Teachers

Dear Teachers,

I think (?) I received a compliment a few days ago that I should pass along to you all. It was by way of a brief conversation in the parking lot outside my place of work. It was as follows:

       
        (Man staring at Julie)
       (Julie decides to counter this uncomfortable and potentially degrading situation with the best weapon possible: directness)
Julie: Hello!
Man: Wha …Err … Are you a teacher?
Julie: Um, no.
         (Silence)
Julie: Are you?
        (Silence)
Man: But you are so beautiful!
        (Silence)
Julie: Well, thank you.

So there you have it, my teacher friends, at least one person in this world sees ‘teacher’ and ‘beautiful’ and synonymous. And I would have to agree.


Best,

Julie

Kyle

K,


It seems only appropriate that I would write a letter to you, my dear husband, on our first anniversary. You might expect this to contain a list of sentimental reasons why I love you and how wonderful you are. Sorry to disappoint, but I have other things in mind.

I do love you a lot (and could list off many reasons why) and I do think you are wonderful (and could compile a list here as well), however, in our one year of marriage, one thing I have been reminded of over and over again is how much I need you. I’ve heard it said that marriage can reveal the best and worst characteristics of people – how true. Coming to terms with new areas of my sinfulness and shortcomings during the last 12 months has caused me to see even more clearly how I can’t do this thing called life on my own. Plain and simple, you make me better. I need you.

Places where I fall short or am severely lacking, you seem to have this amazing ability to fill. I lack patience; you bring it. I jump to conclusions and make assumptions; you bring wise perspective. I speak out of anger or frustration; you’re quick to forgive. I worry; you don’t. I hate mice; you kill them. I cry; you comfort me. I read into things; you take them at face value. I “process outloud”; you listen.

This last year, I’ve often reflected on how I always assumed I’d get married much later in life (thank you, hippie-turned-Christian* parents who always encouraged me to “try new things” and constantly remind me that I’m “still so young” and not to worry about "settling down"). And, with having so many single friends, it’s crossed my mind a time or two to imagine what life would be like for me now if I were not married. Save for not having to unbunch your dirty socks before putting them in the washing machine, I really don’t like that scenario at all, because, quite frankly, I really don’t like me in that scenario. Why? Because you make me better, Kyle James Oostra. Without you, I’m an impatient, jump-to-conclusions, angry, worrying, rodent-despising, crying, paranoid, talks-to-myself woman.

I think it ironic the amount of time and energy some single people (include me in this category pre-husband) spend thinking about how to ‘improve’ themselves so as to be date-able or marry-able – as though only those who possess certain desirable qualities or characteristics are the lucky ones who get to have a spouse. While there’s some truth in this line of thinking (we should all be striving towards holiness, right?), the opposing perspective would be that because one is lacking certain characteristics, he or she requires full-time help by way of a spouse to fill in the gaps, so to speak. That’s me, mostly. I’m pretty sure God (very lovingly, of course) took a look at me a few years ago and said, “Oh yes, this one’s going to need some help – live-in help that is. What about that fellow up in the Minnesota, the really patient, kind, gentle, funny, genuine, sympathetic one? I think he’s just what she needs.” So be it.

I want no other.

J

*I do not intend to present "hippie" and "Christian" as mutually exclusive, only as separate and distinct "seasons" in my parents' lives, if you will.  I personally identify with both of these categories and do not see it as a conflict of interest, but I digress...