Tag Archives: Ryan’s mind

Quilts and their stories

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At any given moment my bed will be covered by a number of different blankets. Each one tells a story.

  • The ratty blue quilt that’s barely holding together, the one we take on picnics and to the beach was made for my by my wife. It’s the only full sized quilt she’s ever made and she made it for me. This quilt has been to two foreign countries (Texas and Portugal) and its been a mainstay since she gave it to me after I graduated from high school and before I left her for two long years. I love this blanket ’cause it reminds me of her.
  • The tan quilt was made by my family and was a gift to my wife and I for our wedding (ok, the ‘gift’ was about a year or two late). It’s got stitches from my nieces, my cousins, my sisters, my mom, and maybe even a few others. I love it ’cause it represents my family and my marriage to my wife.
  • We also have a giant quilt covered in awkward photos, funny quotes, and meaningful words. It was given to us by the Renovatus Church community when we waved goodbye to our six year long love affair with them in January. Each square was designed and made by a different person from that community. I love this quilt because it represents such an important part of my life that includes some of my most favorite people.
  • My mom made me a small blanket that is so worn it’s barely used. It’s covered in pictures of my family and its squares are made from fabric of my childhood. I love this quilt because it reminds me of my family and my childhood.
  • I have been given two quilts during my time fighting against cancer. One was made by my aunts and my grandma. It has the scent of frankincense (a scent important in the Christian story and also an important herb in fighting cancer). My sister and her whole church also made me a quilt. It was stitched on by strangers and loved ones alike and has ribbons stitched on that are associated with central nervous system cancer awareness. I love these blankets because they’re reminders that people are praying for me and my family.
I love the story that my bed tells (ok, that could be take the wrong way now couldn’t it?!) While these blankets don’t capture everything that matters to me, they catch much of it. So please know that if you love me you’ll make me a quilt…or else.

The Mean Lady

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It was early and wet but we were all excited as about eighty of us waited at the Max (public transit) station to head into downtown Portland for the Shamrock Run. Many people were wearing gaudy green costumes, green body paint, and goofy hats and jewelry. Most of us were from Vancouver and had to purchase a ticket to ride the train, the problem though was that the ticket machine is known for taking an extremely long time to purchase and print tickets! So of the 80-100 of us that were waiting for the Max most of us were in a long line that wasn’t moving.

Maybe it was the costumes or maybe it was the anticipation of a fun day with my wife and kids but I figured that the best way to get everyone on board the train would be for those at the ticket machine to just buy tickets for those behind them. Obviously it would be strange for me to approach a stranger and suggest that they buy another person’s ticket so instead I figured I’d walk up to the front of the line and ask if I could just purchase 30 tickets and we could hand them down the line. I thought it was a good idea, I felt kind of good about myself, and practically it was quite a useful thing…but here’s how the conversation went:

Me: Hi, this might be weird but if you let me buy your ticket I’d love to get us all out of line and just buy 20 or 30 tickets to pass down the line.

Her: Excuse me? You’re going to have to wait in line with the rest of us buddy!

Me: Oh, no I’m not trying to cut in line. I’ll stay in my place in the back and won’t even take one of the 20 tickets. It’ll just get us all through the line faster and we can then jump on the train when it gets here.

Her: You are not buying my ticket and you should get back in line where you were.

The Guy in line behind her: Hey man don’t worry about it. On a day like today when the Max gets here we’ll just all jump on.

I’m not quite sure what the moral of the story is. I’ve got a couple of ideas.

  1. We American’s generally fall into two categories. We either live off of and crave charity or we refuse to receive any gifts because we’re not a “person in need” It’s either pride or poverty.
  2. We also tend to find greater joy in the act of giving than in a person receiving. The fun and joy and blessing for the giver is often still centered in his/her own selfish feelings rather than in the blessing that the recipient gets.

Speeling

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I thank the Lord for spell check. I’ve never been a great speller, I don’t know if I should blame my homeschool education, my brain malfunctions, or just a lack of effort on my part. But whatever the reason I can’t spell worth beans. In our electronic age it hasn’t really been much of a problem either. I managed just fine through my bachelors degree without needed to spell correctly (thank you again Microsoft Word), but it’s at this point in my life that I’m being reminded on a nearly daily basis how poor my spelling really is.

You see, when your kids get to a certain age they begin to understand everything that you say. If I comment to my wife during dinner “Oh, you should run to the store and get some ice cream for after the kids go to bed” the kids will them comment with “I want ice cream too!” So you start to do what nearly all parents never want to do. You start to spell things out. “Mmm, honey you know what sounds good? I-c-e c-r-e-a-m.” This way the kids are either forced to live in ignorance or forced to learn to spell (both of which are valuable options). But here’s how things usually work at my house…

I say, “Mmm, you know what sounds good right now? C-h-o-c-o-l-a-t c-h-i-p c-o-o-k-e-s”

Or sometimes Jess says “Hey maybe we should take the kids down to the c-h-i-l-d-r-e-n-s m-u-s-e-u-m later” and I’m like “what? can you spell that slower? You want to take them to the…ch…OH! I get it! Yeah that would be a great idea!”

I feel like an idiot…maybe I am.

Last week we were able to be around our good friends from Canada Aaron and Amy. It was great. Except that Aarons an english snob. No, he’s not from England, but he’s one of those people who correct your english if you use the wrong tense or something. Aaron, if you’re reading this I want you to know with all my heart that I won’t let you leave your church planting work in Canada to plant a church down here in Washington with us unless you stop. And i mean that.

So with that said, to all of you who correct spelling and grammar in an instant messaging conversation or in a text message…shame on you. Its over betwen us.