Settled without settling (Homeless no more!)

Last week I was talking to someone about trying to furnish our house, etc, and he said to me, “Moving is so stressful, and so hard on a marriage.  It is probably the most stressful thing.  Well, after death.”

I almost laughed, because he doesn’t know our history, but yes, I know the truth of all that he was saying.

Trying to find a place to live in Nanaimo was crazy.  I’ve never experienced anything quite like it – there is such variation in what is available at a certain price range.  Many of the people we interacted with (landlords and tenants) felt desperate, and possible ready to take advantage of whoever was around to get what they wanted.

Plus, we look terrible on paper as tenants.  We don’t have a landlord reference since 2011, plus our “employment” and “income” look sketchy and unreliable.

Places turned over really fast – coming up and then being rented out within a day or two, so we had to be really on top of it, and look at so many places.  We had a short list of non-negotiables, and a wishlist.  Early on, I said to Mike that I had a sense we would know the right place because the street name was significant.  When we went to look at a place on Hosanna Way (hosanna is an expression of praise to God), I thought that this was the one!  It looked even better than the pictures, and the landlord seemed kind and reasonable!

We got an email from him a couple hours later saying he wasn’t comfortable taking us as tenants.

I was SO disappointed, but seeing that place gave me some hope to keep looking, as this was by far the nicest place we had seen in the price range – the other places we had looked at all felt like we were settling for much less than what we wanted.

I kept looking, learned a bit about how to better fill out applications, and had a couple places on the horizon that looked hopeful.  We left Nanaimo at the end of May (for a conference and eye appointment) with a place we wanted and a backup, not knowing if we would get accepted to either.

While away, we found out we got accepted to our first choice!  It so obviously filled all our requirements and wants that I decided my sense about the street name was wrong, and I could live on a street called Thalia.

My dad was looking us up on google earth (as he likes to do), and then handed me the computer with a definition on it:


In Greek mythology, Thalia was the muse of idyllic poetry and comedy.  She presided over festive meetings, and the word literally means, “blooming.”


It felt like God was blessing all the things we have hoped for, for this next season, and reminding us that He is intending these things for us, too.

“Festive meetings!”  That is so us.


Bonus story:  About a month after Beatrix died, we were staying in a friend’s house for a couple months.  I wandered into a bookstore and some boxes of magnetic poetry caught my eye.  Normally, I would think this a frivolous waste of money, but on this day I thought, “This will be fun for Mike and I.  We need some fun.”  So, I bought several packages.

I was so disappointed when I got back to the house and found out that the fridge wasn’t magnetic.  (Seriously, I didn’t know that was a thing?!?  But, none of the fridges in any place we have been in for more than a week have been magnetic.)

Here is the view in our kitchen today:








These last couple of weeks have seen several hopes fulfilled.  I feel as if I am just bursting with good things that have happened.  Some of the hopeful things are just in the beginning stages and don’t make complete stories yet, but there are a couple of things that can make sense contained in a blog post.

First up, my eye.  I have been going regularly to an ophthalmologist in Lethbridge since January.  There was a blood clot obstructing my vision, and I have been receiving needles in my  eye to clear it up.

Here is a photo of the inside of a healthy eye:

healthy eye

Here is a photo of the inside of my eye in January.  You can see the huge clot and all of the leopard spots where my vision was obscured:

Amanda Tallon Left eye January 4 2019

And, a photo of my eye from April:

Amanda Tallon Left eye April 11 2019


The ophthalmologist said that it would be reasonable for us to plan to move to Nanaimo when I assured him that I would come back for another treatment in June.  (“Treatment” is my euphemism for needles in my eye.)

Today when I went in, there was great news, unpleasant news, and good news.

In order:

That giant clot is entirely gone!

The new-forming blood vessels are leaky, so there is some blood in the eye that probably requires one or two more treatments.

He is transferring me to an ophthalmologist in Nanaimo!  I don’t have to plan my life around this any more!

I don’t think I am prepared to call this healed until I am finished with treatments, but it feels great that we don’t have to remain in this limbo any longer.



True, Beautiful & Funny (Spring 2019 edition)

I’ve been working on some writing while Mike is in Rwanda.  I have no idea what it might amount to – but I am hoping to at least untangle some of my thoughts.  I have a perfect little location to be holed up in, and despite missing Mike and occasionally getting needles in my eye, I am quite enjoying myself.

While I have been writing, I’ve been listening to Sigur Rós.  Every time I encountered them or remembered them over the years, I have thought, “Oh, I would really like to listen to more of their music.”  So, now is the time, and it is great music for writing to.  I’ve also watched this video a bunch more times.  It is incredible.  I watch with my heart in my mouth every time.



Did you know that Madeleine L’Engle (author of A Wrinkle in Time) wrote adult books!? Well, not adult books.  In her words,

“If you are not good enough to write a book for adults, you are certainly not good enough to write a book for children.  I had written and published several ‘regular’ novels before I dared try my hand at a children’s novel. (I say ‘regular’ novel because I was gently told by a friend that today the word adult in front of novel means porno.)”

Oh, that made me laugh – partly because I entirely agree with her take on children’s books, but mostly because we keep finding when we are discussing movies with our friends and their kids, we qualify them as “adult” movies… and then we quietly correct ourselves when we realize what we said, “Um, I mean, movies for grown-ups.”  I also love her approach to writing for children.  I’ll confess that most of my favourite stories were written for children, and I have yet to meet a Newbery Medal winner I haven’t loved.

Anyway, I have been reading the Crosswicks Journals.  It’s amazing to me that they were written 40-50 years ago, and yet many of the things she says seem very current.   The books are funny, well-written, easy to read, and insightful.



Speaking of children’s novels, I just went through the Divergent series again.  I remembered loving the first book, and then not much about the last two.  So when I came upon a new epilogue, I had to start from the beginning.  I’ll say this: the story is OK.  But I was wrecked by the underlying theme of the new epilogue, “We Can Be Mended.”


It’s just a story, but it fills me with hope.


I’ve never been a huge fan of comedy – I guess I haven’t really seen the value of it.  This has started to change over the last couple of years.  One of the contributing factors was Hannah Gadsby’s stand-up special, “Nanette.”  I’m pretty sure I never would have watched it, but my Dad wanted to watch it together, and I had no idea what I was getting into.  At the end, we were all just silent.

One of the things that she said that struck me was about comedians taking shots at easy punch-lines – like Monica Lewinsky.  She says, “Perhaps if comedians had done their job properly and made fun of the man who abused his power,” then some of the situations that are troublesome today may not have arisen.

I also heard (or read?) something Tina Fey said about writing sketches for Saturday Night Live.  The gist of it was, that they were not trying to sway people to one side of the other, but to get to the truth of the situation through comedy.

I have never thought about comedy as an art form that can help us see our world more accurately.  This year more than ever, comedy has helped me to interpret current affairs.

Finally, let me talk a little about Emily McDowell.  I love her cards.  (I have also awarded a few of her “medals” – to myself and a couple friends.)



She has also co-authored a book.  If you have ever struggled to know how to appropriately express kindness to someone who is hurting, this is a thoughtful (and funny) guide to learning how.

book emily mcdowell


Travels Alone

We have floundered a bit as we thought about what to do about our situation in Rwanda.  We have had things in a holding pattern, but none of that is ideal long-term.  It has been difficult to decide to move on, but now that we have made the decision, we really want to close out our time there well.

The good news is that my vision is getting better.  The needles in my eye seem to be doing their job, and the doctor is still optimistic that we can recover full vision.  We don’t know how much longer that might take, but he has accelerated my treatment to try to get it dealt with quickly (because I’m so young, as they keep saying).  But I still can’t plan to leave the country anytime soon.

Mike suggested that he could go without me and start to deal with things.  My immediate response was, “No way!  It is too difficult, and no one should have to do that work alone.”  But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I would appreciate it if some stuff was taken care of.  Then I remembered what a fantastic group of friends and colleagues we have there – he wouldn’t be alone, and would have the benefit of their companionship and wisdom as he tries to navigate the difficult and potentially frustrating issues awaiting him.

So we booked the ticket, and he is on his way soon (before his visa expires).  I’ll keep on with treatments, and hopefully in a couple months when he returns, we’ll be able to head on to our next adventure.

Just an Ordinary Day

We had a friend stay with us for a few days.  She has had a really difficult year, and has been trying to figure out how to put her life together in a way she can live with.  Her husband was going to be gone for a few days, and it’s not great for her to stay alone.  Besides the fact that I love her and am always delighted to spend time with her, it was wonderful to be able to be a bit of a support for someone else.

At the end of one of the days, she asked me, “Is your life always this intense?”

It gave me pause, because it had been a fairly ordinary day for me.

I had done a few  practical things at the coffee house that needed to be taken care of.  I had had a few short-but-deep conversations at that time with people whose lives we have been connected with.

I had met with another friend, a young woman who recently came back from a Discipleship Training School.  It was a transformative experience for her.  It was particularly important because her family situation (and therefore some of her roles and identity) has changed in the last few years.  She has had some incredible life experiences, and made some major life decisions, and although the internet has enabled us to keep connected as she processes these things, this was our first in-person conversation in a long time.  This is someone I have watched grow up – have listened to, prayed for, and advised (whether for good or bad, that’s another issue) – so intense would be a good descriptor of that conversation.

Then, later that evening, we had a skype meeting with a friend overseas.  Last we had talked with him, he had been facing some difficult things that happened when he was a child.  He had been wanting to talk to his parents about it – but nervous about how that conversation might go.  He shared with us about how that conversation went, and how it opened up a whole list of things his family had never discussed.  (Painful conversations, but hopeful and possibly leading to healing.)  We felt honoured to listen, encourage, and pray for our friend.

Sprinkled throughout the day was a variety of conversations with the friend herself about various aspects of our lives, none of which were shallow.

(Those are just the parts I remember.)

No big deal, just an ordinary day.

I sometimes beat myself up a bit at how long it is taking us to recover and get back to our work.  But every once in a while I have a reminder that we have the awesome privilege of being engaged with people’s hearts.  If we’re not OK on a deep heart-level, we won’t be able to do that work; we won’t be trustworthy with places of hope and brokenness.  I have an awareness of how awesome our work is.  I have an awareness of how easy it can be to hurt people when they open up to us in vulnerability – and I think it is worth it to take the time so that we can be people who are safe, people who are trustworthy, people of encouragement, and people who bring life.

I Intend to Win

Someone made a comment about the last blog – they had been wanting to print it out for an update for the church community, but it seemed to end in the middle.

They didn’t mean it as a compliment, but it seemed to me that if that was the feeling the reader was left with, I have accurately communicated some of where we are at right now.

The last few weeks have probably been the hardest of the entire last year.


We have no normal that we can continue with.  We don’t have a home that we can live in while we wait this out.  Our vocation requires that we be present with our hearts; that we be engaged and whole.  Getting paid for our work requires that we not only DO the work, but that we also communicate passionately and effectively about what we are doing.

I expected there to be setbacks.  I expected there to be hard days and weeks, but I expected that overall, we would be able to find a way.  I hoped that, eventually, the added strain of this continued nomadic life would come to an end.  And now, a year and a half after Beatrix’s death, I feel a bit like I have been clotheslined – knocked over just as we were back on our feet and gaining some momentum.


Now, I won’t leave you there this time…  At the moment, we’re not sure what our options will be month to  month.  I know my eye is getting better; I have another treatment in Lethbridge the first week of February, and probably more sometime after that.  (As long as it continues to improve, they won’t do surgery, although that hasn’t been ruled out yet.)  We have some ideas about what we might do (and where we might live) for March, but at this point it’s just ideas.  March is suddenly too far away to plan for.

We’re very thankful that a YWAM base we used to work with suggested they could use us this month.  And a good friend is going to come stay for a couple weeks – so we have somewhere to live, people to support us, and something useful to do for this month, and that’s about as far ahead as we know for sure right now.


No photo description available.

Have you ever seen Demotivators?  They help me to smile a bit when things just get too ridiculous.

I’m trying to see our current situation like the picture above, but this Demotivator seems more appropriate at the moment:

I woke up a couple weeks ago, and my vision was a little blurry.  What with travel and holidays, it took a little bit to get in to see our doctor – he sent me on to the optometrist, who send me on to the ophthalmologist.  It turns out, I had a bleed (stroke!)  in my eye.

Apparently it is quite an anomaly, and they are testing for all sorts of possible underlying causes.  In the meantime,  he is optimistic that I will be able to recover full vision.  But… I have to return to the ophthalmologist once a month to get a needle in my eye until it is resolved (something like 2-6 months).

You may already be able to see the blip in this.  When I told the doctor that we were planning to leave the country at the end of the month, he said, “Absolutely not.”  He then proceeded to explain that he didn’t think it wise for us to leave the country for quite a while.

I’m totally floored.  I felt really good – a couple months closing up in Rwanda, and then moving on to our next project with YWAM Nanaimo (which is what this next blog was supposed to be about, but I’ll have to postpone that to another time).  It felt like we were able to close this season and begin a new one.

I am very thankful for the way everything has been streamlined – various professionals communicating effectively with each other and explaining well along the way.  AND!!  I don’t feel like I have to use Google to figure out what is really going on, because I am being cared for by a doctor who knows more than I do.  (Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for all the help the internet has given me over the years, but…  I feel much more confident being in the hands of a competent professional.)  I am thankful to have a doctor who is trying to find out the underlying cause instead of just treating symptoms.  I am also thankful that this didn’t happen several months ago in the US, or while we were in Rwanda.

I have had a few days to pick myself up, remind myself of all the things in the previous paragraph, but I’m still having a trouble figuring out how to do some of the things we need to do.  It feels like, just as we were ready to move towards stability, we have been derailed.

Immediate steps

Now that we have some long term vision, it’s time to start moving in that direction.  After a long drive back from Pennsylvania, it has been good to celebrate Christmas with family.  January will be spent communicating and preparing, and at the end of the month, we’ll get on a plane.

First, we’ll be heading to Rwanda.  We’ll be there for 6 weeks.  We’re really looking forward to seeing our people there again – it has been far too long.  We have a few goals to accomplish while there, but the overarching one is to close out our time there well.  When we were there last year, we were pretty sure that we were finished living and working there full time, but didn’t want to make any rash decisions.  We did our best to put things into a holding pattern.  As we have continued to talk over the year, we have decided that, while we may return, it is time to move on from that season.

“On our way” back to Canada, we’re going to make a stop in the Philippines.  In YWAMese, we would call it a “pastoral visit.”  So I have been trying to figure out how to define that in a way that makes it make sense for us to go all the way to the Philippines for 2 weeks, for a visit.  We have some wonderful friends who have been working there for, I think, 7 or 8 years.  It is difficult to describe the slow, cumulative toll that is exacted by cross-cultural living, by repeatedly witnessing trauma, and by the constant weight of responsibility.  It sneaks up on us.  It is hard to pinpoint because it manifests as depression, an inability to stop and take a rest, irritability, severe criticism of a culture (either home culture or host culture), physical illness, or a hundred other things that don’t really seem related.  It is also difficult to describe because it is often perceived as complaint – when most of us joyfully undertake these difficulties…  it is just that they are difficult.

The good news is that one of the best aids in the difficulty is not being alone.  Having people enter in, listen, encourage, and occasionally bring a broader perspective has been our biggest support over our years in Rwanda.  As we have been discussing with our beloved friend, we realized we have the time to go – so at the end of March, we’ll make a side trip on our way back to Canada.

Announcements, Announcements, Annou-ouncements

One of the things I have had to learn over the years is how to communicate information effectively to groups of people in various distracting circumstances (in a market, in an airport, during a meal).  Information people need (we’ll be eating supper at 6, we have to be ready to go to the airport by 4 am…), but that isn’t necessarily interesting.  Standing on a chair and yelling, “Everyone SHUT-UP!” is somewhat effective in stopping conversations, but it tends to create a hostile audience.  So my favourite way is to start the announcement song – about how boring announcements are – and usually by the end people have joined in and are prepared.

So – pretend I’m singing (or don’t, it’s painful to listen to), and that you are joining in… and…  I’ll do my best to make it interesting.


While in Pennsylvania, we were hoping to answer some questions:  Now, what do we do with the rest of our lives?  Where do we want to be in the next 5/10/20 years?  What steps can we take now to start to move it in that direction?

Our vision hasn’t changed.  We are still passionate about and feel called to work in a missions context, with a strong focus on discipleship.  But the ways in which we see ourselves pursuing it have changed.

Returning to North America after 5 years in Rwanda, we have seen our home culture with new eyes.  We have been evaluating the ways our normal modes of living contribute to injustice across the world, ecological destruction, and increasing experiences of anxiety and depression.

We can’t believe that this is a good way to live; we believe we follow a God who has some better ideas than this.  So: long-term, we want to experiment with some ways of living that are more just and ecologically sound.

We appreciate many things about the Discipleship Training School.  It is a model we are familiar with, and want to incorporate into what we are doing as a way of teaching what we have learned about God’s Kingdom, (in)justice, mental & emotional health, and missions.

Lest you think this is all ideas with no substance, we DO have some concrete ideas about how/where we will do this.  We are also planning our next steps with our current capabilities and long-term goals in mind.  You can look for more concrete “announcements” of this in our next few posts.

A Tiny (House) Update

Hello!  I meant to write this blog post two months ago, with a heads up that I would probably be quieter for a while, but what with one thing and another, it’s November now.  One of the main problems was our camera.  At the end of August, I went for a walk in the rain.  I thought I had taken everything that couldn’t get wet out of the rain, but about 24 hours later, I found our camera inside the bag in a soaking wet case.  I put in in rice, and then when we got to Pennsylvania, I put the rice and camera in a cupboard and left it.  I’m doing much better than I was at dealing with stressful things, but I didn’t want to face up to the fact that I had probably wrecked our camera.  As long as it was in the rice, I could hold on to some hope.  Schrödinger’s camera.

Last week I finally felt like I could face up to it, and, surprise!  It still works!  So here are a few long-promised pictures from inside the tiny house we have been living for almost 3 months now:




It has been a great space for us!  It has been so good to be able to live alongside the family we are helping, but also have some space to ourselves.  It has also been really good for us to be able to be in the same place for a while.  (I’m actually not sure how to say these things strongly enough.)