Sometimes you have to think with your heart...

To those people who say we don't have room for those in need, that we can't possibly take in those who have crossed a country to seek refuge at our border, I ask for a moment that you don't apply logic alone to this predicament. Yes, your intelligence can help you draw the conclusion that we don't have room, our economy simply cannot handle it, they will take our jobs, our future, they are jumping the queue, not playing by the rules, changing the landscape of this great country. Guess what? Our families all came from different countries, we've already changed the landscape, bringing a wealth of cultures and backgrounds and traditions, making this the great country that it is. We figured this out before, and we can figure it out again. And you know what that gave us? A heart. A giant. fucking. heart. And we need to let that guide our thoughts and actions, now more than ever. Having a hard time imagining what it would be like to walk in their shoes? Try this. Next time it hits minus 30, pack your most treasured possessions in a duffel bag - take your time as it's all you'll take with you - dress in your warmest clothes not fit for the weather, hold your little ones close to your chest, and start walking. Walk for miles and keep going. Walk through your hunger, through their crying, walk with what remains of your dignity, keep walking when your feet start to bleed, and then keep walking some more when you can't feel them anymore. Keep walking because you know it's better than going back to a place where your life is not valued. Walk a hundred miles knowing that parts of your body will need to be amputated, but walk knowing that it's better than the alternative. Walk while keeping your children warmer than you so it's you that has to lose a limb, not them. Then, when you have arrived and you are done walking, fall in a heap. And then start to pray - to whomever or whatever you believe in - that the people at the end of your journey are a people that don't just think with their heads. For your fate now rests in their collective hands. For this reason, you pray they are a people who also believe in thinking with their hearts.

Boarding school postponed...

Just when we thought perhaps we had to ship him off to boarding school, I find this when sorting through Jack's school stuff from Grade 4 last year.

"And please help my grandma because grandpa past away."

"When my mom's dad died I understood what she was

going through because he's my grandpa."

Truly, he melted my heart. For us Catholics, lent starts tomorrow. (For you non-Catholics, it's just yet another form of torture, pardon me, rite of passage for our faith. Nothing to see here, other than weeping and the gnashing of teeth. Move along.) I'm thinking I'll start my very own virtue reflections journal for Lent, because there are a few things I need to work on. Ok, a lot of things. Although if my husband is careless enough to drop a $20, let's be clear that I will not be giving it back. It is not respectful to show a Scotsman that he's lost money.

And in other news, if "Jamal" were to have $100, apparently he would buy a hockey stick and a orange and black car. Not entirely certain if the orange signifies the fruit variety, or if the car itself would be orange AND black. Horrifying either way...

Sorry for being a dick...

I am blessed with a little girl who knows a thing or two about issuing the perfect apology. First of all, she ensures the intended audience is aware of the intent of said card by titling it: "Sorry Note", complete with beautiful imagery. Then inside, a heartfelt: "Sorry for being a dick", which I think we can all agree is the perfect blend of truth and humour to cancel out most transgressions. Hallmark, you getting this? And as my one friend pointed out, she may have indeed wrote: Sorry for "you" being a dick, then stroked it, hence also issuing one last subtle reminder that neither one of us was acting very nicely. A final punch packaged with a heart. Fucking brilliant, really...the card that keeps on giving.

Shortly after delivering my apology note, she starting ...showing off a bit with the following:

Isla: May I please clean my room before we go watch a movie?
Me: Are you ill?
Isla: No, I'm not sick. I just used my conscience. That's the virtue I am using.
Me: Seriously. Are you dying?
Isla: It is really hard to use this virtue.
Me: *desperately searching for phone to dial 911*

I just love her. I think she's pure magic.