join me in my yesterday. i was up early, a quarter after six in the morning. i woke up in the middle of a dream: a dream so annoying, frustrating, angering that i couldn’t sleep. my subconscious having now been severely lectured, i was out of bed & down to the kitchen. hot peppermint tea, oatmeal with almond butter, plain goat yogurt (thanks trader joe) & a touch of honey. kara & jason arrived at our house last night. i’ve visited them twice in california but this is the first they’ve been up here. their little family is here for the week. unfortunately jason has to work nine to five come monday: he’s a full-time online support guy for showit, so today was the day to see vancouver.
after a short client meeting halfway to the city at a coffeeshop [a chinese-japanese-western-fusion september wedding!] jason & kara & tegan & i were all on our way to the beautiful city of vancouver. we drove to granville island: one of my favourite spots. it was a chilly day. we had lunch at the indoor food market [one of the best in the city, in my humble opinion]– japanese cuisine for jason & kara, baby food for tegan [ha!], indian for myself. it was so good. dang. so good.
one-year-old babies aren’t the best at endless hours in the car without naps, so one o’ clock found us heading for the suburbs. [i failed to mention jason & kara & tegan drove eighteen hours over three days with tegan. brave!] — back home, i pulled on my new favourite hoodie [a fulfillment of this promise] & made another cup of peppermint tea—that’s my latest obsession. used to be green; lately it’s all about the peppermint. i opened up the problem of pain by c.s. lewis, settled in front of the warm fireplace & continued to read. a half hour past, forty pages in, i felt small. reading c.s. lewis does that.
for one, i feel small reading the works of a man with such wisdom. he’s my favourite writer. how lewis presents ideas, carefully building upon each one, chapter by chapter, always has me captivated. for two, how he leads me to think about God & his infinite, mind-blowing greatness & love for us… it’s too much to handle. i feel small. it’s a wonderful kind of small, not one of belittlement or inferiority: i don’t feel looked down upon when i think about God. i feel taken care of. as i read lewis’ words, i feel like i am five years old again. a three foot tall [is that average? that’s a guess] five-year-old cuddled next to my six foot tall father. me, small. him, big.
my brain grew tired; my body restless. i laced up my nikes & was out the door with my ipod. i ran to the “send down your love” live album by christian city church. that album is incredible. perfect running music. two blocks from my house, the sun setting off in the distance, it began to rain. freezing rain. i ran, marveling at the weather: sunny while raining. off to the north, i saw a rainbow & smiled. i felt small. two miles from home [and three miles into the run], it began to hail: thick, heavy, painful, cold. i stared at the pavement—looking anywhere but down meant more hail pelting my face—and rounded the final corner. home.