Big Post: Big Numbers

For some things, 100 is a big number. For this, my One Hundreth Post, I'd like to share another very large number I came across the other day. It's one hundred million billion billion billion billion billion. It looks like this:
1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
(or so I've been told...he said it was a 10 with 53 zeros after it)

It's gotta be there SOMEWHERE!

Edit: My sister won a gold medal today in the individual air rifle competition. She got 388 points out of 400. Silver got 383 points.


1. It is snowing AGAIN today! I thought I didn't live in Alberta so that my winter would be ONE WEEK of snow and a few months of rain...apparently not.

2. I've been thinking about a couple of verses recently. I seem to like the ones that say "If you...then this." So, here it is:

"And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness."
Colossians 2:6-7

Why does it always make things sound so easy? I feel sometimes like when it comes to roots, I've hit a rock and can't go any further, and when it comes to building...well, I think I picked a different building site than the one Jesus laid a foundation for. Or did I just pick a different building plan, and so only sort of missed the foundation? Which is worse because then part of your house is sure to fall down. But of course there are other times (times I hope are me seeing things clearly!) when I think, "Hey, I didn't really miss the foundation, and that rock? It wasn't that big after all." So there is hope.

3. I've been thinking of something else as well. My plans have changed and they're big exciting ones that don't include E. Hastings and homeless people and changing the world...and I keep wondering if that's ok with Him. I mean...was/is His plan for me to go to Vancouver like I'd planned, or was it just that...my plan? Does it particularly matter to Him where I go? I remember just KNOWING that DTS for me was supposed to be in Van. And I remember Susan saying He left the choice up to her...it didn't matter where it was. Why couldn't He just give me a map with lines telling me where to go? I've been learning a lot of things recently and there are some logical steps that should be taken, but since when does God operate soley in the logical? So many times He's done the illogical, or asked for the illogical, but He also created logic and uses it too. So you can't just go with the logical steps, but you can't wait around for the illogical instruction either or you may not go anywhere ever.

4. How do you know when it's God talking? And not just you? And NOBODY tell me to go read that Cunningham book.

AAAAHHHHH!!!! SNOW! >:(

Winter has AGAIN reared it's ugly head and dumped white stuff on us. Bah!

So, my sister is in Whitehorse right now, competing in the Canada winter games. She and a team mate shot this morning and together snagged a bronze medal. They were only one point behind silver, two behind gold, and four behind the current record. I'm so proud of her! She shot 391 points out of a possible 400. Not bad, huh?

Daddy's Little Girl

Layne Johnson, February 2007

“I was daddy's little girl. A much-wanted only child. I remember weekends with my parents at the zoo. Daddy would swing me up on his shoulders so I could see the lions. We would imitate the monkeys, Daddy sometimes holding his arms out so I could hang from them and pretend I was swinging from branch to branch. After a while we'd always get thirsty, so off we'd go to search out an ice cream sandwich and a bottle of Coke. Mom never approved of that. She was all for packing tuna sandwiches and bottled water to bring with us. But Daddy always said “Tuna sandwiches and water don't go with the zoo, Mary.”

I went to the best schools my parents could afford. I wore trendy clothes, was popular, and I was a good kid. When I was in high school I began dating this really cute guy. He was fun, daring, and utterly charming...and wanted to be a singer. I wanted to be a fashion designer. I had my life all planned out; how I was going to school to be a designer, I would move to New York to start my business, and one day I'd be famous. Joel didn't really fit in the plan, but that was okay. We were still in high school and it was enough to have fun for now.

Near the end of my grade 12 year my dad died in a hit-and-run incident. The police never found who did it. Amazingly I managed to graduate, but without my dad nothing seemed to matter. I remember sitting at the kitchen table one Sunday morning watching Mom frying pancakes, and we were talking about the future. Most of my parents' savings had been used for Dad's funeral, and he didn't have life insurance. Mom had gotten a job at a drugstore but it didn't pay very well. Not even enough to cover mortgage payments. We had to sell the house and move to a smaller one in a more affordable neighbourhood. All of a sudden college, fashion designing, and New York seemed unattainable. And at this point I wasn't even sure if that was what I really wanted.

I got a day job at a dollar store and an afternoon one at a coffee shop that hosted live musicians on Friday nights. Joel landed a few gigs there. After graduation we'd kind of broken up, but he was often around anyway. He offered his help to Mom and I if ever we were to need it, and told me that our changed circumstances didn't matter to him at all. One day he wrote a song for me...and another, and another. A month later he asked me to move in with him. He said he loved me, wanted to take care of me, and wanted to help me fulfill my dreams. I said sure. Life was almost bliss for about six months. And then reality set in. Joel's career refused to take off. We had no money. My dreams were drifting farther and farther away, with no glimmer of hope that I could ever reach them. And then the dreadful discovery that I was pregnant.

Because of our financial situation, Joel insisted I have an abortion. “We can't afford a baby. We can't provide a good life for one at this point,” he said. So on a wet Tuesday afternoon I did. I was depressed for months after that. Joel was patient with me for a while, but finally one day he told me to go visit my mom for the afternoon. I didn't want to go, but he called a cab for me and sent me off anyway. I hadn't seen my mom for months...I wouldn't return her calls. I didn't want to talk to her. How could I tell her what I'd done? I couldn't do that. So that afternoon we just talked about surface things. I only stayed an hour and then went back home. But home wasn't there anymore. The door was locked. I heard music from inside. I pounded on the door. Joel opened it a crack and peeked out. “Let me in, Joel! It's raining.” He slipped an envelope out and closed the door. The lock clicked. “What is this? Let me in!” I yelled and pounded the door again. He turned up the volume so he could no longer hear me. I pounded and yelled till the neighbours threatened to call the police on me. So I picked up the envelope and left.

I walked for a while in the rain, and finally stopped under a shop overhang to open the letter. The letter inside was wet and the ink ran, so most of it was illegible. What I could decipher basically said that he could no longer handle my depression, I was holding him back, and he didn't want to see me again. Ever. I spent the night out in the street.”

The next night the police reported a Jane Doe found behind a dumpster: an apparent suicide.

I was once like you.

This is not a true story, but it has come about through reflection on several conversations I had with people I met in Downtown Vancouver, and a poem a friend wrote recently. Thank you for reading.

DON'T turn it on if you can't turn it off!

So, over the intercom I hear "Attention all shoppers: We are going to be testing our fire alarm system in a few minutes. There will be three short alarms. Again, this is a test."


Five minutes later ear-splitting alarms go off...and don't stop...for the next TEN MINUTES! Finally they get shut off and we all take the napkins out of our ears and say "I sure hope that was all three combined! They'd better not be doing that again!"


The manager comes out and laughs about how someone set the alarm off but couldn't figure out how to turn it off...and it'll be going off two more times. "But just short ones this time. Really."


Oh yeah.


Five minutes later the second alarm is finally off. Faster than the one before, but they still don't have the hang of it. Last one was about 5 seconds long. FINALLY a short one. My ears were ringing for the next fifteen minutes though.




Our manager runs around with a million things in his head...really, he does a pretty good job. Still, I was wondering what he'd say if I were to ask for yesterday off...how long would he think about it before giving me an answer? I'll have to try sometime.

Number 9.

Kid no. 9 should be arriving in June or July. Yay!

would you...?

Would you build a coffin for a friend? If they asked you to?

Who are you?

What do you want in life? What things matter most to you? What makes you happy? Where are you going? How do you get there? Why are you here? What one thing draws the line between a good day and a bad one?

"Our God is an awesome God..."

MY GOD IS SO AWESOME! He's bringing things together in ways I didn't expect...changing ideas, presenting different opportunities, sending encouragement in things that weren't meant to be that way (ie. darn ravens dropping seeds)...I think this has been a God day. You cannot realize how happy I am at this minute! God is good, life is good, and I think the fog may be lifting a little.

Sorry for the vagueness. I need to see how this all works out first.

Come what may...He's looking out for us. Don't forget that in your wanderings.

Word Play

"I ran into Jordan yesterday."


"Oh? How's he doing?"


"He's in the hospital getting his arm x-rayed and his head stitched up."


"WHAT HAPPENED?"


"I ran into him."

Stupid winter.

I hate snow.

Don't even bother reading this. Really, it's not worth it.

While looking over my last few posts, I noticed that I've had to edit a few of them. Something must be wrong if I have to do that all the time. Perhaps I say too many things I shouldn't.


Several weeks ago I was talking to someone at work about a certain movie that gives Jesus a personality. And I don't mean all those old movies where He always looks like the cross is hanging over Him...like a wet blanket. I don't think He was like that at all...and yet, I don't really know what I think He was. I can't get past the part about Him being God. In my mind He’s holy, perfect, solemn, and untouchable. Closer than Allah, but still not…I don’t know. For example, I hear people talking about God liking to be asked or wanting us to tell Him what we feel, what we need, etc. But I think about how frustrated I get with 6 little kids (or even just one or two) demanding my attention and needing my help. Give me a break! I’m selfish and I want to do my own thing un-interrupted for a couple of hours. And if I just saw you do something, I don’t want you to replay it for me, even if it WAS funny. So how can I believe that God wants that? I suppose the key would be in SELFISH. I am. God’s not. See? Even in this post I can’t get past Jesus being God. Shut up, Layne. You’re babbling and no one cares anyway.


SO, happy new year to you all. I’ll go now.

The Taming of the Shrew

I found the most hillarious version of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew at the library the other day. It's a stage production on film done by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation...sooooooooooo funny! My sister and I have been laughing our heads off tonight. Some brilliant acting, in my opinion.

Incase you didn't know...and some people don't...I LOVE Shakespeare's comedies. And this is one of my absolute favorites.

...and their "new" grandkid

Grandpa, Grandma, and some grandkids

Grandpa, Grandma, Dad, Danaka, and Mitch

Grandpa Johnson and Grandma Schindel

That day

"My first sight of Grandpa made me cry. He lay in the hospital bed that had been moved into his and Grandma's bedroom. The blanket was pulled up under his chin and all you could see was his head. All the hollows were sunken in and his skin was very yellow. He smiled a little when he saw me, and I leaned over and gave him a hug. I felt like I might break him, he was so fragile....I knelt down beside the bed and told Grandpa about my week of hanging out with homeless people and giving roses to prostitutes. As I talked his eyes kept closing. I think he dozed of and I left the room. I sat on a chair in Grandma's livingroom and cried hard....The last time I went in was just before we left. I leaned over and kissed his forehead and told him I loved him. "I love you." he said in a strained voice hardly louder than a whisper....

"Sunday afternoon [Dec 11] I went with Hillary, Jill, Jana, Eunie, Melissa, and Andrew to UBC. We just walked around exploring. After we'd been there for a while (it was about 4:40) Hillary's cell rang. I was just about to run around an indian longhouse when Hillary said the phone was for me. Everyone got very quiet...When I got off the phone I found myself in a big bear hug in Hillary's arms. I was very soon hugged from behind by several other people..."


Edit: I wasn't/am not particularly sad or anything. I wanted to edit this post and say that earlier, but the power has been out at my house and I haven't had access to the internet.

Newsflash: Baby Brother Carried Off by Rogue Eagles!

So, a few months ago I was telling a girl at work about my family. Then I got talking about my cat, Charlie Chaplin. I was telling her about how we moved into a particular house and shortly after had to move out because it was flooded, and no one was around the house much, and I didn't think Charlie had really settled in and One Day we discovered that no one had seen him for a while. Haley looked so concerned at this point in the story, and knowing that she likes animals, I figured she was worried about where the story was going. So of course the...morbid side of me perhaps?...went on to tell her that we've never seen him since, and always just figured he was dead...maybe an eagle carried him off or a car hit him.

Haley stared at me with HUGE expressive eyes. "You have NO IDEA how your brother died?"

...happy birthday.

I think I've learned a lot this past year about life. A constantly recurring theme is "people need someone to listen to them." I've seen it in my friends in DTS who wouldn't seem to let me get a word in the conversation unless I raised my hand (I can be very quiet at times)[Edit: I'm really not trying to make anyone feel bad. It only happened in group settings, not one-on-one talks.], the people I met on the street who had life-stories they wanted to share, my co-workers, and the counceling course I took at the Crisis Pregnancy Center. I'm a person and I need to be heard, but when I talk I've begun to take more notice of the things my listener does that make me either feel heard or ignored. I'm trying to learn how to be a better listener so that even if I don't have someone to listen to me, I can still provide it for others.

Another thing I've experienced is that while religions mean something, denominations do not. Whether someone is Baptist, Pentecostal, Methodist, Anglican, Catholic, or whatever, it doesn't matter. If they are a Christian then we both share basic common beliefs. The differences don't matter. They have some things right that I don't have, and the other way around, and it's not worth fighting about.

I've met a few Christian customers at work. Most of them I haven't been able to talk to much, but from the first moment of finding out we're both Christians there's a connection. And for a moment I don't feel so...adrift. It's like being lost in a huge crowd and suddenly seeing a familiar face.

I've had a pretty sheltered life. Practically everyone I've associated with has been a Christian. There's always been that connection. You say things and they know what you're talking about (or at least have some sort of idea) because you both speak christianese...things can be unsaid because you both know what's behind what you say. And even the way I've worded this paragraph...Some people are going to know what some of these things are that I'm talking about, and some won't have a clue. Another example would maybe be my plan to move to Vancouver. I tend to simplify it because not everyone gets the idea of "feeling it's where the Lord wants you." Huh? What's God got to do with it? But that's why the face doesn't have to BE familiar to FEEL familiar.

I've learned that I am capable of more than I realize. I have more to offer people than I realize. And all this 'more' is because Jesus dwells in me and works through me. So it's not really me but Him. He can do big things through me. I don't ever have to do things alone in my own weak strength.

I've learned that what you do with tragedies and bad times prepares you to help someone else through their own hard times.

I've learned that attitude problems are hard to deal with because they're slippery and don't like getting stuck in corners where you can lay your hands on them. I'm still trying to pin them down to figure out what's wrong with me.

You can't change other people. You can only change your reaction.

This next year I hope to gain a better understanding of who I am and what I have to offer the world, because Myself and I are just accquaintances. I keep surprising myself with my contradicting personality. I don't make a lot of sense. Do I have a split personality?