Peeking In Our Window on Christmas Day

Marilyn Dennis, on her daily TV show, told me and all of her viewers nation-wide, that she likes going for walks when it's dark outside so she can peek into people's homes - the homes that have their lights on and their curtains open. Thank goodness!  Now I know I'm not the only 1 who likes to do that.  In fact, on Christmas Eve, after church, My Sweetheart drove my Mom and Darling Daughter and myself up and down the streets of our little town so that we could look at Christmas lights. He drove too fast for my liking. Our necks were sore from twisting them back and forth too quickly to try and take in the sights. "Slow down so we can see better," I remember telling him.  "You just want me to slow down so you can peek into the windows!" was his reply. Well, that was true.  He knows me well. He remembered that from walks we took other Christmases - walks at an aunt's home in North Vancouver, walks at his sister's in Langley.  We'd eat lots so we could wear it off going for a walk to "look at the Christmas lights."  And then I'd say, "Eww, look in that house - see that grand piano..."   or  "Look there - their pictures are hung too high..."  or  "look at all the people sitting in the living room - I wonder if they've had as good a day as we did..."   And My Sweetheart would say, "you shouldn't be looking in their windows.."  And I'd say, "Why not- their curtains are open..."  And now I know, thanks to Marilyn Dennis, that I, and most of her studio audience that day, like to look inside the homes when we go by on a dark night when the curtains are open and the lights are on.

So knowing that I'm not an oddball, I thought I'd share with you what it would be like if you took a walk by our house, on Christmas Day, when it's dark outside and the blinds are up, and the lights are on. If you were to come to the farm, and drive by our house, you just might see...

DD and my Mom, along with our good friends from church...

Dear Son and DD, along with Grandpa, dishing up at the buffet... The candleholders in the window are a treasured gift from DD a few Christmases ago!

I hope you can see the warmth, the peace, the joy and the love of family and friends, when you take a peek inside our home on Christmas day... I hope you are able to hear the laughter around the table... Perhaps you sense sadness, while wondering who is missing... I wish you could smell the aroma of the Christmas feast  that is set out on the island... I pray that you will know,if you don't already, the love of Jesus, whose birth we celebrated on this beautiful Christmas Day....

I'm glad that YOU peeked into our window today!











Patti and the Ghosts of Christmases Past

My very first friend was Patti Anderson. And I was enviously jealous of her.  She seemed to have what I always wanted, but was always out of my reach.  The first thing that I envied about her was the size of her family. Not only did she have 2 brothers, like I did, she had 2 sisters. I always thought she was so lucky to be able to share a bedroom with 1 of her sisters. They had, in my opinion, the coolest bedroom. It had 2 twin beds. I had always wanted a bedroom with 2 twin beds after seeing another friend's barbie doll case. It had a flap that folded out and became Barbie's bedroom- complete with 2 twin beds. Hey, that might have even been Patti's Barbie Doll Case come to think about it! Barbie could have sleepovers easily with 2 twin beds. And I imagined that Patti and her sister went to bed every night pretending they were Barbie and Barbie's friend having a sleepover.

Speaking of Barbie... Patti had a Barbie doll years before I did. And I'm pretty sure she had more than 1 Barbie. The year I finally got a Barbie for Christmas- my Barbie was wearing a red 1 piece swimsuit and had non-bendable legs- Patti got a Barbie with a twist and turn waist AND bendable legs to boot. She was so lucky!! And I was so jealous!

Patti was fashionable too.  She had naturally curly hair and did not have to do a thing with it. In the mid '70's when perms, and afros, were the epitome of style, Patti had it cased. And she had wire rimmed glassed to complete the look. I had poker straight hair and fangs. I remember 1 time when her and her sister, the sister she was so lucky to share a bedroom with, got on the school bus.  They were both wearing fashionable white leather-looking boots. Go-go boots is what I'm sure they were.  I was probably wearing those ugly boots that go right over the shoes.

There were 24 of us in grade 1. Patti was the best artist in our class. Naturally. I was the worst. In fact, my drawing ability hasn't changed much since grade 1. Not only was she artistic, she was athletic. Patti was NEVER the last person picked for the team. I was ALWAYS the last person picked for the team unless the teacher felt charitable and deemed me team captain- a rarity.

So what got me on this Patti v. me kick this morning was listening to the radio. Some singer sang "Frosty the Snowman" and I immediately remembered singing that with the rest of the Sandford-Dene kids at the annual Sandford-Dene family Christmas party. Patti was able to wear knee highs to that event.  I remember clearly being so jealous that she was able to wear knee-highs, along with her sister who she shared the bedroom with. I had to wear cable tights.  That was the year I fell into the piano at the Sandford-Dene school and split my lip open.

The Sandford-Dene Christmas party was the highlight of Christmas parties for me. Every year the moms in our growing-up area would start by scrubbing down the old 1 room schoolhouse in the country- the Sandford-Dene school. That was the school my dad and his little sister used to walk to.
On cleaning day the school bus would drop all of us 'Sandford-Dene' kids off at the school when the mom's cars were there. And we would have our rehearsals then. We'd rehearse our songs. And one year we sang "Frosty the Snowman."  We'd rehearse and rehearse until finally the big night would arrive.

Vehicles filled the school yard, casserole dishes and desserts were brought in and laid on the boards supported by saw horses. Tables, also boards on saw horses, were lined up with chairs and the neighborhood would partake of a magnificent potluck.  The program would follow. Us kids would sing, song sheets were passed around for the grown ups to sing along, Sheryl Kaake would play her accordian, Fern Bang would sing, in her beautiful soprano voice, "O Holy Night",  Jimmy Anderson, Patti's Dad, always ran out for a minute.  While he was gone Santa would magically appear handing out the brown paper treat bags. And then the games would start.  Card games, board games. It really was a magical time. It heralded, for the, the countdown to Christmas.

And on Christmas morning, after the gifts were opened, I would always phone Patti, or she would always phone me.  "Merry Christmas- what did you get?" And the jealousy and goodwill, together, transpired.

The Red Pantsuit

The other morning, on my way into the city, I was listening to the radio. An elementary school choir was singing a collection of Christmas songs. And I started to reminisce.

I started thinking about when I was in elementary school and we would begin rehearsing for the Christmas concert.  Every year, from grade 1 through to grade 6, my class, along with the other elementary grades in our little rural school, would begin the practising in earnest, likely right after Remembrance Day.

And every year, just before the evening concert, I would be thrilled to get a brand new Christmassy outfit for the performance.

For the school concert in 1973, when I was in grade 4, I wore a bright red pantsuit. It had been ordered from the Sears Christmas Catalogue. I was so excited when Mom brought the parcel home that year and I was able to try on the girls' size 10- 2 piece pantsuit. The pants had an elasticized waist. The top had a tie that tied at the back. It had white trim around the edges of the short sleeves and the collar. The collar was a Peter-pan collar. My pantsuit was a polyester fortrel blend. I felt so grown up in my red pantsuit. I thought that perhaps I should have been the model that year in the Sears Christmas Catalogue - that's how confident and beautiful I felt in my Christmassy red pantsuit. Never mind that my very fine hair, that had been cut, by Mom, in the very popular short shag style was likely full of static electricity, and my teeth, that had yet to be straightened by braces over the following years, were fang-like- I was the epitome of high class and high fashion in my red pantsuit. And I'm sure that when our class stood on benches and ladders to form a Christmas tree, and held our flashlights covered with differing colors of crepe paper, and turned the lights off while our flashlights came on, and we sang "O Christmas tree" in English and in German- I'm pretty sure that back then, on the darkened stage in the school auditorium, all eyes were on me in my beautiful  red pantsuit.

I've liked the color red ever since. It's my favorite color to wear. And I'm thinking that I have that Christmassy red pantsuit to thank for that!

Savour the Saviour

One of my favorite recording artists at Christmastime is Amy Grant. I bought her "Christmas Album" cassette tape back in 1983.  I've replaced it with the 'christmas album' CD.  And through the years I've added to my Amy Christmas collection with each and every one of her Christmas CD's. On the one I've been listening to lately she sings a song called "I need a Silent Night."  She co-wrote it with her friend, Chris Eaton. She could have written it with me - I had been thinking the same thoughts anyway- even before I listened to it.

'i need a silent night, a holy night
to hear an angel voice through the chaos and the noise,
i need a midnight clear, a little peace right here
to end this crazy day with a silent night.'

Lately I've felt like one of those rodents on a wheel - the one that keeps going around and around and doesn't get off. I haven't been able to take time to think or listen it seems. As soon as we got home after our Disney vacation it's been go go go.  The city Monday morning, work Monday afternoon, put up the tree Monday evening and if still a little energetic put out more decorations,
teach Tuesday afternoon, big city doctor appointment Wednesday, meetings Thursday, no school on Friday - so let's go back to the big city for more shopping, clean out 3 freezers on Saturday so there's room for baking that hasn't even started, church Sunday, rehearsals, appointments, list making.....agghhh!!!!

And in the midst of all that craziness, somehow I need to breathe.  Just take the time to breathe.  To be still.  Enjoy the moment. Savour the Savior. Christmas will come regardless. It will come if the house isn't as clean as I'd like.  Christmas will come if all the baking that I want to have in the freezer doesn't get baked. Christmas will come.

Priorites need to shift, for me anyway. I need to slow down before I wear out. I need to take the time out, in all my busy-ness, to 'be still with my Lord.' My Emmanuel. He is near, but lately I've not been near to Him. I need silence to hear Him speak. I need a silent night and a silent, listening heart.



Piano Lessons

I am fortunate to be able to teach piano lessons in our local school. And I am fortunate to have the cutest, keenest piano students ever! They are all from the same class. They are all at the same level.  And they all started lessons in October. On average, each of my 4 students has had 7 lessons. But that's where the similarities end.

The youngest student - a boy- is very quiet. His hands are very small. He rarely speaks to me. He is always tired. And he is always prepared. Today I put a new piece of music in front of him, and while I was babbling away, explaining the new concepts in the piece, he just started to play.  Just like that. I was still talking when I noticed that he was half way through the piece.  So I let him play. And make mistakes. And smile when he finished. He smiled.  And he told me that he likes 'f'. He likes the sound that 'f' makes. He rarely smiles at his piano lessons, so this was good.

One of my students always makes me smile by the funny things he says. He'll be in the middle of a piece and stop to tell me something important. He's a quick learner too. Today, when I opened his book up to a new piece and asked if he'd like to learn it, he looked at it, then told me, "Nah, it's too hard..." It, after all, had parts in it that were hands together, with chords. Daunting, naturally, to a young boy who just started lessons last month.  He started a couple weeks later than the other 3.  But, I sat beside him, and had him talk me through the piece. He figured out what all the notes were, and slowly, methodically, and almost miraculously he played a piece of music that just a few minutes earlier looked impossible. His grin afterwards was worth it!

The oldest in the group, a girl, is now playing Christmas music.I gave her really hard pieces today. In one song she learned at least 5 new things. And she played through the piece, hands separately, very well. She has 1 week to practice hands separate and another week, before her next lesson, to put the hands together. She tackles her music with intensity and joy. She makes mistakes grandly. And accepts help equally as grandly. It's hard to believe that she has had only 8 lessons.

If I could use 1 word to describe the other girl it would be, "Joyful!" She is a very happy girl and she makes me smile just by looking at her. I think she's hard on herself, musically that is. I think she second guesses her abilities. I mentioned that to her today. I told her that she KNOWS the music- she just has to believe she does. And I think, after telling her that, she believed me.  The rest of the lesson seemed to convey that to me anyway. She played and even counted out loud! I knew she 'got it'!

So, because I have been entrusted with these musicians in training, I will strive to be the best teacher I can be for them. I will pray, continually, for insight and creativity as I teach. I will strive to encourage and be a cheerleader for each one. Each one is unique in their own special way.  And I'm the lucky one who gets to try and tap into that creativity at each lesson!

Last Times

I have enjoyed watching every stage that DD and DS have been through- stages that have come and gone as quietly as breaths of a whisper. One stage would be upon us, and before we knew it, that stage was replaced by a different stage.  And each stage was over quickly and quietly. My Sweetheart and I were talking about that the other morning. I think we got on to that topic, when, while laying in bed willing ourselves to get up and leave the warmth of the blankets, knowing how frigidly cold it was outside, we were talking amongst ourselves with a warm little body between the 2 of us.  Except it wasn't a warm little body of a little child who had come in after having a nightmare- it was the warm little body of a little shit-zu.  And she breathed on My Sweetheart.  But not with the sweet little puffs of baby breath that we so enjoyed while DS and later DD were little babies.  No, Chico's breath wasn't like that.  Her breath was anything but sweet.  And it wasn't puffy.  It was snorty. But it got us reminiscing and staying in bed just a little longer.  We wondered, 'when was the last time we...."?  And we filled in the blanks...

When was the last time we burped each child?

When was the last time they sat on our laps while we watched a movie during family night?

When was the last time we put a bib on our baby?

When was the last time we shampooed their hair while they were in the tub?

When was the last time we pulled the high chair up to the table?

When was the last time we carried DD to bed because she had fallen asleep on our knee?

When was the last time we watched DS paint at the kitchen table?

When was the last time DD played with her barbies?

When was the last time DS played with his rescue heroes?

When was the last time I rubbed DS's back while tucking him in?

When was the last time we scratched DD's back for the same reason?

When was the last time they jumped into bed for a morning snuggle?

When was the last time we hooked their seat belts up for them?

When was the last time we held their hands while crossing the streets?

When was the last time we pulled up the zippers on their winter coats?

We don't remember all these 'last times'.  They came so gradually.  All of a sudden our babies were toddlers. Then they were at school.  Now they're thinking of universities. While it's somewhat sad that we don't remember when each stage left, it is also somewhat exciting knowing that each stage has left and has been replaced by new stages. And I am so glad that the Lord saw fit to bless me with 2 incredible children to have these stages to go through.  And I am so glad that He blessed me with an incredible husband to partner through these stages with.

And That's the Kind of Day It's Been

Yesterday morning, when My Sweetheart was driving me into town to meet up with my cousin who was going to drive her and I to a trade show in a neighboring town, we hit a dog.  My friend's dog. It jumped out over the road too fast, and at just the wrong time. My Sweetheart had a smidge of time to apply the brakes, but not enough time to stop. I was sick. I cried. The dog was alive however, but seemed to be hurt.

  The accident happened just across from their driveway so we hurried to their house, relayed what had happened, then hurried back to the dog and waited no more than 30 seconds until they arrived with their truck and loaded the dog up to take to the vet in the city. Needless to say, I was a wreck until later on when I received a text from my friend, assuring me that the dog was at the vet's and in good hands.

On our way to the trade show, just after I had told my cousin what had happened, a dog ran across the highway. Fortunately, we saw that in lots of time, and my cousin was able to slow down and save the dog. I hope it went straight home.

When I got home from the trade show My Sweetheart informed me that he had run over one of our cats- apparently on our way into town in the morning- just before we hit our neighbor's dog. We didn't notice the cat accident though. Kitty had met her demise in our yard- as My Sweetheart was leaving the yard. He didn't notice that until he got back home after dropping me off at my cousin's.

So, that was the kind of day yesterday was. A day that, I am glad to say, isn't the norm. A day that makes me appreciate the 'good' days more.

Cheers to Volunteers

I was thinking, this morning as I was driving into town, about our community and the many volunteers who make this community a good place to live.

About 5 minutes after we had brought DS home from the hospital, a week after he was born, the lady in charge of the "rink duty" scheduling phoned to see if My Sweetheart and I would volunteer for rink duty. I found it amusing that we were phoned to see if we would volunteer. Does that make it volunteering then? I guess she thought that now that we had a big strapping son, he would turn into a big strapping hockey player and that we would be hanging out at the rink. I shuddered. I don't enjoy watching hockey, and I can't even stand on skates. But we signed up.  And for the next few years we 'volunteered' at the rink for 1 week a year. Along with the others on our crew we flipped burgers, sold pie, cleaned bathrooms, made coffee, cleaned the windows between the ice and the inside part of the rink where spectators sat to watch the events.  We scrubbed floors when it got muddy, and scrubbed floors when our shift was complete. And we did it with a smile.  Seriously.  Although there were times when it was crazy busy, those were the times when it was fun to be around lots of people. But when DS was in grade 1 or 2 he decided that soccer was the sport for him. And indoor soccer, in the city, took place in the winter, when our rink is open.  We were gone almost every weekend for tourneys, and we were gone 2-3 nights a week for practice. So we took our name off the 'rink duty' list. And, through the small town grapevine, heard some not nice things about us.

But volunteering at the rink is not the only place where volunteers can be spotted. Some people might find that hard to believe.

There are those people who deliver meals on wheels to the seniors.  Cheers to you!

Those who shingle halls and churches - Cheers to you!

To those who, every Sunday play the instruments in your churches - hats off to you!

There are volunteers who go to the Care Home and entertain the residents.  Cheers!

To the parents who carpool students to tournaments - You are appreciated!


You teachers who coach our kids after hours, and who mentor our future leaders - Cheers!

Moms who take food to food booths at the school when there are tournaments - Cheers!

Hats off to the women who slave over hot stoves for fall and fowl suppers!

To the volunteers who take people to medical appointments - you are appreciated!

The directors, producers, actors, servers, artists and everyone else involved with drama club, put in hours and hours of work that culminates in an appreciated touch of culture for our community.  Thank you!

To my singers, ushers, program makers, ticket passer-outers, and everyone else involved in the cantata- cheers to you for the hours of rehearsal time volunteered!

The community choir depends on volunteers for leading, accompanying and myriad other tasks that go unnoticed - Cheers!

All the organizations - the Lion's Club, Seniors' Club, and the Youth Group Leaders in our community - Thank you for all the volunteering you do!  Cheers!

There are even sneaky volunteers.  The ones who quietly go about helping and quite often are unnoticed. The ones who pick up mail for shut-ins, shovel walks, deliver baking when someone is hospitalized - You matter! You are appreciated!  Cheers!

I'm grateful for volunteer opportunities that come up - grateful to be part of a community that needs each other in order to survive as a community.  I pray that my small community will never take our volunteers for granted. I pray that the Lord will bless the volunteers!

He's On His Way

It's just a long weekend.  But I haven't seen him since Thursday morning.  It's now almost supper-time on Sunday. And Dear Son just texted to say they're on hwy 32.  He'll be home in about an hour.  And I am so excited to see him.

DS, and some other teens from our town, along with the wonderful youth group leaders, have been in the big, big city for a youth thing. It sounds like, from the texts, that they've been having a  great time.

Since he's been away the rest of us have been enjoying indulgences that DS doesn't particularly care for - bacon and eggs for breakfast, watching Pearl Harbour on Remembrance Day, White Christmas last night.

But tonight is his night.  Well, supper is anyway. I texted him earlier to see what he wanted for supper.  He didn't care- just not stew. So I'm making spaghetti.  The meat sauce is simmering, water for the pasta is heating up, and the pie has been made. DS loves pie.  Pie is his preference over cake when it's his birthday. I know he likes spaghetti too!

I'm really excited to see him.  I can't imagine how much more excited I'll be to see him when he leaves home for good and comes home on long weekends. And Christmas time. That 'coming home' time after being away is coming sooner than I thought possible. The precious years with DS and DD at home are quickly coming to an end. DD has already been looking into universities.  DS will be graduating high school in a year and a half.  And that year and a half will fly by.

We're making this time count. We hope we're instilling good things into our kids. We hope they'll leave home with wonderful memories.  And we hope they always will be excited about coming home - coming home where the love and  welcome will always be waiting, and coming home where the pie will be cooling on the counter.

Grandpa Saw a City Burn



I went into our school today for the Remembrance Day ceremony that was put on the by students. Dear Son, with the rest of the grade 11, History 20 class, had a prominent role in the ceremony.  The gade 11 class, typically does each year. The whole ceremony was very well done- moving in fact.

When it was over, Mom and I headed into the city to do some shopping. On the way home we talked about her dad- my Grandpa.  A man who, sadly, I never really knew.  I remember seeing him once - when he was in the nursing home. That is my first and only memory of him. At the time I was a young teenager and he was an old man.  The only connection I had with him was Mom. That saddens me.  That saddens me that I never took time to try and get to know him.  All in retrospect I guess. Had I known then what I know now I would have written him letters. I might have phoned him.  I don't even know what his voice sounded like. He never heard me sing. I'm pretty sure that the only thing he heard me say was, 'Hi Grandpa.' I'm pretty sure that's all I did say to him. I remember going to Grandma's when I was little; but I don't remember Grandpa being there. I'm sure he was though.  Grandpa died when I was 17. 1981. It's funny now, because when I'm doing the math, he would have only been 75.  And I thought he was an old man. Mom is older than that now, and I think she is incredibly young.

Grandpa left his family in 1941 to go to war. He would have been 35. I've heard that many soldiers lied about their ages in order to enlist. Grandpa would have likely seemed old to those younger ones. I like to think that he would have been a father-figure to the young soldiers. I like to think that maybe he was able to offer words of hope and encouragement to them when they were scared or homesick. I like to think that he would have treated them like his step-sons. Grandma's first husband had died before Mom was born and Grandpa would have been a step dad to Mom's older brothers - 1 of whom would have been old enough to fight in the war and another 1 who could have lied about his age to fight.

Mom told me that Grandpa wrote poems. I wonder if his poetic genes were passed on to me.  I wonder, if he would have still been alive, if he would have enjoyed the songs I wrote. Grandpa wrote 1 poem called, if Mom's memory is correct, "I  Saw a City Burning", a poem that someone put music to and recorded.  I'd love to see that poem, to hear it being read, to hear it being sung.  But it's lost somewhere. He wrote it while in London. While he was there he and a buddy had been to someone's home - likely a lovely couple who had invited them in for some sort of normalcy in the midst of a horrible war. They were playing cards. Grandpa and his buddy were going to go back to wherever they were staying, but were talked into playing "just 1 more game" - a game that saved their lives. While they were playing cards, during that last game, the place where Grandpa and his buddy had been had they not been playing cards, was bombed. I believe that the Lord spared his life then.

Grandpa was away for his family for the duration of the war. Mom remembers when he came home.  She was 11 years old. She remembers meeting him  at the bus. I wonder if he recognized his little red-haired daughter. Did he know the twins who were then 7? They would have been 2 when he left to go and fight. Mom remembers that her mom had roasted a chicken that day. I wonder if that was Grandpa's favorite meal. I can't imagine how it must have been for him coming home. I can't imagine the horrors he would have seen- cities burning, buddies dying...But I can imagine what kept him going - the love of his family, as well as the love for his country.

I wish I would have known my Grandpa. I would have told him how proud I am to be his granddaughter.  I would have told him 'thanks, Grandpa.'

Belonging

On Sunday night, when I got out of the car, near the  church where we've been rehearsing for a few weeks now, the fragrant aroma of wood-- burning from a fireplace in a nearby house-- wafted to my nostrils.It was a welcoming, comforting smell;  the smell that says, "welcome to winter!"  There was something  comforting and peaceful about that smell, combined with the falling snow, the nip in the air, and the warmth from the church as I entered. It felt--well, it felt 'right'.  And then, as the chorus members trickled in, laughing, smiling, obviously happy to be there, I knew that this is where, for this time in my life, I belong. I enjoy directing the choir.  I enjoy helping them learn their parts and I enjoy listening to the fruit of all of our labours. Each member is vital. Each member is appreciated.  Each member is valuable. Each member belongs.

That's what I was thinking about when I was driving home after rehearsals. I was thinking of how important  and crucial it is for every person to know that he or she belongs. I belong to God's family, my family, my prayer group, my church, my choir. I'm accepted, loved, and my gifts are utilized wherever I belong. I'm strengthened by belonging. There's something powerful and humbling at the same time - knowing that I belong.

Shovelling, Shuffling and Sneaking In

Yesterday My Sweetheart and Dear Son were at the south farm- I'm not sure what all they were doing down there- but I do know that they got it 'ready for winter'- I also know that there was some shovelling involved. I know that there had been gravel where the bins had been before they were moved to the new location, and I'm thinking that some of the shovelling had to do with the gravel. There was a little nip to the air- toques, gloves, warm jackets were worn.  But winter boots weren't needed yet. It really has been a remarkable fall - drawn out, nice weather- a perfect fall for getting the outside stuff done.

This morning we woke up to a winter wonderland. It's still snowing.  My Sweetheart was out shovelling snow this morning. Chico, when she had to go outside to do her business, had to manouver deep snow on the deck. That was before the shovelling started.  Now she has a little path - not that she's particularly interested in having to venture out.  But there's a path nonetheless.  She'll appreciate it later. Bentley, on the other hand, loves the deep snow.  The deeper the better. It sticks to his curly hair. When he comes in the house after galavanting outside he brings about 5 gallons of snow in with him. It's stuck to him initially, then it's on the floor. All 5 gallons worth.



Being that it looked so lovely outside when brunch was being made by My Sweetheart, DD and DS, I put some Christmas tunes on. And then, because DS is so skilled and talented and marvellous, I talked him into putting all my Christmas CDS on to my i-phone... He hasn't done that yet, but I got my stash of CD's on the kitchen table just waiting for him to put them on to my laptop, then syncing them with my i-phone, and then I'll be able to shuffle the tunes when I listen to them. I'm listening to some of them now- there were some of my cd's already stored on my laptop and he put them on my i-phone.

I got my i-phone the other day when My Sweetheart, Mom and I were in the city.  I had no intention of getting one, but my phone was eligible for an update. I wouldn't have gotten one if the saleslady hadn't told me that this particular one was very user friendly. I understood that to mean that even I would be able to figure it out! I can even push a button and tell 'siri' to phone somebody, or even text somebody and 'siri' will do that for me! I wonder if 'siri' would come and clean up the 5 gallons of snow on my floor?

When I stood in the porch, with the porch door open to take the picture that I posted on my blog today, 3 of the cats snuck in. I can't blame them. They were encrusted with snow. And poor black mama cat lost her tail the other day - she was 1 of them who snuck in. I wonder if her stump throbs. I wonder if the cold, wet snow makes it throb even more.  I felt awful throwing her back outside. But really, I didn't want 3 cats in the house adding to the snow pile on the floor. They can go to their nice warm little cat house and keep warm. If only they would!  There's even a path shovelled to their little house.





Man's Best Friend

They say that the dog is the man's best friend. But at our farm I'd have to say that the dog is the dog's best friend. Bentley and Lady  anyway. See how Bentley dropped his toy, just in front of Lady as if to say,"Here, you can play now..." But Lady is getting old. She doesn't play as much anymore. She didn't play at all, in fact, until Bentley joined our family. But lately we've been noticing Lady slowing down. The hair around her face is turning white.  She walks with stiff legs.

This morning I looked outside and saw Bentley leaning over Lady. Lady didn't appear to be moving-even when Bentley said, "Woof!" in her ear she didn't budge. Lady's hearing isn't as sharp anymore either.

Lady isn't an inside dog. She sheds too much for my liking.  I don't like having dog hair floating around the house.  I don't like vacuuming up big gobs of dog hair. But I'm softening up a bit with Lady. She's even starting to sleep in the porch now that the outside temperature is dropping.
One thing I wouldn't budge on though- Lady wasn't allowed in the basement.  We have carpeting in the basement and for sure there'd be lots of dog hair down there. But Bentley, 1 evening when he and Chico were downstairs with us, and Lady was in the porch, ran up the stairs, pushed open the door, and promptly came back, pulling Lady by the ear. He led her to his special dog bed , plopped her there
and looked at us as if to say, "well, now what are you going to do about that?"  What, indeed?  So, we got Lady a little bowl of popcorn and she laid on Bentley's bed and enjoyed being with us. Now, Lady and Bentley are both content when they can be downstairs with the family.

Bentley and Lady were just outside running around.  Well, Lady was walking, Bentley was galloping. But they were together, enjoying each other's company. That lasts until Bentley gets a little too annoying.  Lady can only take so much of his immaturity.  We have seen her snap at him.  Then, and only then, he will back down. But before long, Bentley will be up to his shenanigans- bugging Lady, and urging her to keep playing. Playing with a best friend!

can you see the white around her face? and the utter contentment for being in the living room, not in the porch?

Bentley with his absolute favorite toy- squeaky toy - the 1 toy he seldom shares.









Excitement is mounting

The other day, when DD and I were in the city looking for Hallowe'en stuff for her for school, I couldn't help but notice the Christmas decorations beginning to make their appearance in the stores- just ready for the Hallowe'en stuff to be gone to make room! And I got excited!

My shopping has begun.  And just this morning I said to My Sweetheart, "Oh, I can hardly wait until you open your present!"  I know he'll love it!  I just know it! I've been buying his gift in stages. The first stage was the main part of the present.  And every time I have gone (or is it went?) to the city since then, I have been adding other parts to his gift, and sneaking them home, and having so much fun doing it.  I still have a few more stages of his gift left to buy!

And then, the other day when I opened the porch door, I couldn't help but smiling thinking that as soon as the calendar page gets flipped to November, the autumn wreath will come down - to be replaced with the Christmas wreath.

We had waffles yesterday.  The waffle irons are stored in the same cabinet as the krumkakke iron. I smiled when I saw that too- krumkakke making, lefse rolling, cookie baking - November is the month!

The other night I put my new Michael Buble Christmas CD in the little stereo by my side of the bed.  We fell asleep to "feliz navidad" - I am so grateful that My Sweetheart loves Christmas as much as I do. He might not appreciate the early Christmas music in our home otherwise!

I told Dear Son that we had bought a Christmas gift for him too - just to bug him! I must wrap that soon!

Darling Daughter has a couple gifts hidden away for her too - I had to buy them when I saw them- she will love them!  Oh, I am so excited!

The excitement is mounting here on the farm!





Heaven's Declaration

"What's so great about living in Saskatchewan?" the question was posed to me, from a curious friend of my sister-in-law's, while visiting in Beautiful British Columbia a month ago.

What's so great?

"The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of His hands..."  Psalm 19:1

"Let all the trees sing for joy"  Psalm 96:12

"Be exalted O God, above the heavens,

let Your glory be over all the earth"  Psalm 57:11

"So here I am in the place of worship, eyes open,

drinking in Your strength and glory." Psalm 63:2

"for great is Your love, higher than the heavens,

Your faithfulness reaches to the skies.."  Psalm 108:4

Early mornings in Saskatchewan. Beautiful sunrises. Thousands of geese. Creation praising God.  Open skies. Space. God's beauty. Beauty that is apparent in every province.  Even Saskatchewan.

The Flannel Sheets

I did something today that I haven't done in a long time. This morning, after picking up My Sweetheart from the south farm (he had taken the 1 ton truck down there and needed to be picked up, brought home so he could take the back-hoe down to move some big, really big rocks) I crawled back into bed. And I wasn't even sick!

But I had had a horrible sleep.  So, I think, it was warranted. I tossed and turned last night, fitfully, for at least an hour, replaying the fact that I had run over a kitty. And then, when My Sweetheart was rubbing my feet, he discovered an ugly thing on the back of my calf. The calf of my leg - just to clarify. So, between thinking of the poor kitty and the ugly thing on the back of my calf, sleep was a long time in coming. But it came. And went. I woke up, a little while after falling asleep,with a horrible headache. I must admit, though, that I am quite spoiled. My Sweetheart heard my softly whimpering and he jumped up to get me the cold cloth for my forehead and the advil. I just laid in bed and waited for the medicine and cloth to take effect. It took longer than I would have liked.

So, when it was time to get up, I wasn't ready.  But I got up anyway. And then I went back to bed. And slept like a log for 2 hours. Before I crawled back into bed I had stripped the bed and put the flannel sheets on - a sure sign that winter is just around the corner. Those flannel sheets were sure cozy to crawl in to!



Friday night on the farm

After a busy day in the city with my mom, running to the school to wrap up a jewellery party, making a quick healthy supper of chicken fajitas on whole wheat wraps, I am now sitting down, at the computer, in a very quiet house.  It will be quiet, I suppose, until the next big play in the final game of the World Series.  Then I expect to hear some whooping and hollering, depending on who does how, by My Sweetheart. He, and DS, sure did some whooping and hollering last night anyway.  I really don't care. I was happy and content to be able to watch Extreme Makeover Home Edition on my smaller TV upstairs.

DS and DD are at youth group.

Bentley is sleeping on the floor beside me - totally played out from a day of running, exploring, playing, tormenting Chico, tormenting Lady, tormenting the cats - hey, that reminds me...

Yesterday morning, after DD got on the bus, I looked out the garden door window and saw a dead cat, curled up, in the position she had died, in the hedge.  I was heart broken. It was, after all, 2 of her babies who had perished the same week - 1 of them had been run over while out hunting, I'm assuming, and the other succumbed to injuries inflicted after a tree fall-poor thing...I'm pretty sure the dead cat, laying in the hedge, had died from a broken heart. That's what I imagined anyway.
So, I called Dear Son to the garden door to have a peek, and yes, he agreed.  Poor Mama  Cat.

I checked an hour later.  She was still dead. An hour after that- she hadn't moved. I don't do well with dead animals on the farm.  I avoid them. Darling Daughter can pick up deceased kittens, prepare them for burial, bury them.  I just can't. And My Sweetheart was in town, shingling the church roof with some other men from the congregation.

So, before I went to town, to take an apple crisp (my donation to the potluck lunch for the hard-working men) I took 1 last glance at poor Mama Cat. She was dead.

I told My Sweetheart all about it when I saw him.

When he came home, the first thing he did was head to the front lawn, to do whatever he needed to do with the body. It wasn't there. One of the dogs must have done something with it.  That was a gross thought.

The guys were outside working when supper was ready, so when I stepped out to call them in, guess who was on the front step?  The dead mama cat.  Except she was very much alive. I was dumbfounded and overjoyed.  I could NOT believe my eyes. But it was her.

So, now the puzzle. Did she come back to life? Had she been unconscious? I'll never know.  But I'm thinking of switching her name to Lazarus. Might be a step up from "Grey Mama Cat".

Back to my Friday night story.  Bentley is still sleeping on the floor by my feet, My Sweetheart is hunkered downstairs in front of the big screen, DD and DS are still at youth group, Chico is guarding my slippers while she sleeps, and I'm enjoying this Friday night on the farm.

Stages and Seasons

13-14 years ago this empty paper towel roll would not have stood a chance. It would have been 'eyed-up' before it was empty. Just waiting.  Waiting to be grabbed by a little boy with a vivid imagination. It would have been transformed into a sword. Made into a turret of a cereal-box castle. It could have morphed into a magic flute with black-felt marker keys. Even a pirate spy-glass. The possibilities were endless. The imagination was vast.

And, thankfully, that little boy had the help of a TV program called 'crazy quilt.' All kinds of craft ideas were presented on that show. And DS watched it faithfully. With My Sweetheart.  And with me.

I was useless when it came to crafts. I hated 'art' in elementary school. The feel of glue on my fingers was disgusting. Marks, from felt markers or crayons, on my hands were not appreciated. I couldn't draw.  Still can't. My creative projects, back then, were, I think, just something that needed to be done.  By me, for the teacher. They weren't done willingly. Rather, begrudgingly. I would have rather had 'music' class - all day long, if I could. But, I had to suffer through art.

And then we had kids. Our first born LOVED, LOVED, LOVED creating anything out of practically nothing. He'd see something that wasn't  being used, even from a very young age, and he would need to make something out of it. We even had a craft drawer. I never would have imagined, when I was younger, that I would ever have a craft drawer. It was filled to the brim with glue- ugh!, crayons, markers, stickers, pipe cleaners, paper- plain and construction, scissors, glitter, yarn, paint.  You name it- if it was crafty, it was in that drawer.

We had a stash of egg cartons, empty cereal boxes, toilet paper rolls, and paper towel rolls. Every day there was some sort of childish architecture going on in the farm kitchen.  Every day old newspapers were spread out on the table, aprons were donned, glue, crayons, markers, stickers, pipe cleaners, paper, scissors, glitter, yarn and paint were spread on the table.  And imagination took over.

I can't believe how quickly that season of life  has disappeared. At times, when I was in the midst of the glue mess, I thought it would never end. But it has.  That stage, followed by others, has come and gone. Too fast.

I could be sad about that, but I'm not. I'm thankful for every season of life that DD and DS have experienced. I'm looking forward to the stages yet to come. And I'm thankful for the memories that are triggered by empty paper towel rolls.

"to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven..."  Ecclesiastes 3:1



My Heart Was Warmed

There's something to be said for rural schools.  At least, there's something to be said for the school where Dear Son and Darling Daughter attend.

This afternoon, when I went to the school to teach some very cute little students piano lessons, my heart was warmed by what I witnessed.

I got to the school just after lunch was over - just in time for the students to be back in class. Well, most of the students were in class.  All the students were in their classrooms except for the youngest class and the grade 11 class. Scattered throughout the hallway, on floors, in the forum, on couches and chairs, were the little kids - partnered up with the big kids.  The big kids - the grade 11's were buddied up with the little kids - the kindergartners, grade 1's and grade 2's. Dear Son was reading to the youngest kindergartner, Bret.  Bret is still 4.  DS is almost 17. And there they were, huddled closely together, reading and being read to - together.

And further down, at the forum area, 1 of the little girls was snuggled on the knee of 1 of the 'big kids' - one of the grade 11 high school girls.  They were snuggled. Reading and being read to. Heart warming.

I didn't dare disturb my piano students. How disappointing would THAT be - to be yanked from such a neat experience - for a piano lesson? I'm convinced that both age groups learned so much from that experience. An experience that is, I think, lacking from the bigger, urban schools, where students are separated into high schools, middle schools and elementary schools.

In our little school the big kids and the little kids quite often do things together.  Christmas parties. Games. And reading.

When the reading time was finished - I only had to wait 10 minutes - I watched some of the little kids hug the big kids. My heart was warmed all over.

And then, I was able to take some of these sweet, little, impressionable, dear students to the piano. How fun! And my heart was warmed even more!

Through Me

"God is not interested in what you can do for Him,
He's only interested in what He can do through you."  Woodrow Kroll

As I was heading into town last night for "back to school" night, a night to 'meet' the teachers and listen to presentations, I caught the tail end of 'Back to the Bible' on the local radio station. And what I heard in the last few minutes, the only portion of the broadcast that I heard, will not leave my mind.  "God is not interested in what you can do  for Him, He's only interested in what He can do through you."

That takes the pressure off, doesn't it? We don't have to 'give it our all' or 'try to impress' or ... or what?
God wants a willing heart. He wants obedience. He wants me to be willing to offer up myelf to Him so He can do what He wants through me. In spite of me. For His glory and purpose alone.

Just think of all the people who let God work through them.

Moses. God's strength and power shone through Moses. Moses was a stutterer. He wondered why Pharoah would listen to him, of all people. Yet, he did what God wanted him to do. He let God work through him.  And a whole nation of people was saved. The ten commandments were delivered through a willing vessel. A man who questioned God - 'why would Pharoah listen to me, a stutterer?'

Paul - aka Saul. A hater of Christ followers. Intent on killing Christians. Feared by Christians.  But God wanted to work  through him. And  through this Christian hating, feared by many man - whose life was transformed when he encountered the Living God, the lives of millions and millions and millions of Christians, since the time the New Testament has been in their hands, have been encouraged by his writings.

What about today?  What about the people whose lives are an open testament to God's grace?  People who let the Lord shine through them? People who aren't doing things for God, per se, but who let God work through them?  Anyone come to mind?

What about Nick Vujicic?  Have you heard about him? Google him.  Watch him on youtube.  You'll be amazed at what God has done and is doing through him. A young man, born without arms and legs - he attempted suicide at a very young age. What could he offer? Now he has a world-wide ministry - God is taking him where arms and legs can't. And God is glorified through this willing, humble, amazing man.

Bethany Hamilton?  Heard of her? World class surfer - surfing without an arm. All because of "Christ in her- the hope of glory."

What about me?  What can God do  through this stay-at-home-mom/farmgirl/home-maker? I believe God can be glorified  through  me if I let him. If I am willing to 'die to self' and live for Christ, He will
be honoured and glorified.

I encourage you to search the Scriptures. See how amazing Jesus is!  Open your life to Him.  Let Him be glorified through you.

My Morning with John

I was first introduced to the glorious music of John Rutter when I was in college. No, that's not true - high school was when I first heard a piece by him.  In fact, when I sang in the concert choir in high school we ended each performance with "the Lord bless you and keep you" - a beautiful benediction arranged by John Rutter. But at that time in my life I didn't pay close attention to who wrote what.

But college was different. Hearing, and being part of the ensemble that sang Rutter's Requiem,and other choral pieces by him, was perhaps the highlight, or at least 1 of the main highlights, of my college career.

And now, that I'm older, I celebrate the beginning of Christmas by listening to a CD of Christmas Carols by John Rutter- performed by the Cambridge Choir.

I'm not a 'bucket list' type of person, mainly because I'm not adventurous and have a hidden secret desire to do weird things like bungee jumping before I die, but I do have 1 thing on my bucket list. Not that I have a bucket list. However if I did have a bucket list  the one thing on it for me to do before I die would be to hear the Cambridge Singers in England. And hopefully to hear them sing some Rutter.

This morning I was listening to one of my Rutter Christmas CD's. And while listening I was back in the music wing at college with some of my fellow music major friends. What an amazing time in my life. I miss certain aspects of college life. The music.  The friendships. The singing of "Rutter" with some terrific singers. The Christmas concerts.  Octet. Rehearsals. The Bosendorfer.

I'm glad for the memories.  Glad to have been able to experience the amazing 'things' for lack of better word, that I've been able to experience with the people I've experienced them with.

But along with the memories I am able to reflect upon, I am also grateful for the memories that I am making. Some day down the road perhaps one of the memories that DS and DD will have will be the memory of 'Mom listening to  Christmas music so early in the year..' I hope that if that is a memory they do  have,  it will be a memory that will make them smile. Much like I have been doing all morning long while listening to Rutter.



Homecomings

It's good to be back in the world of blogging. I've missed it.  I've missed interacting with the people who respond in some way to my blogs. And now that I'm back home I will be trying to be more diligent in my blogging.

On my way home today, from a funeral, I was contemplating what to blog about.

Do I write about the great time at the wedding? Or about being told, while in BC, that I look way too fashionable to be from Saskatchewan?  Is that a compliment?  Or an insult to Saskatchewan women? Are we stereotypical "coveralls and workboot women" who live on a farm and milk cows while covering our hair with a bandana just because we live on the prairie?

Do I blog in response to the question posed to me, while still in BC, 'why would you want to live there??? What's so great about Saskatchewan?'  Hmmm......

Maybe I could blog about something that threw me off guard today - while handing cash to the server at BP's, where I picked up the take-out pizza that I had ordered after the funeral, the grumpy looking server asked me if I wanted my change.  Seriously?  They want tips now for pick-up? Really??

I could write about how my family fared just fine without me here for a week. That's good and bad from my perspective.  Good because, obviously, my family, and especially Dear Son, who was home,manning the fort so to speak, by himself when the rest of us were at the coast, did not go hungry.  My family was able to cook, do laundry, clean the house, take care of the 3 dogs, 1 goldfish, 2 frogs, 1 rabbit, and 14 cats - all without me here.  And bad, for the same reasons.  I am not needed. They can function just fine without me. But, they want me! They were all happy to have 'Mom' back home. And that is good. My Sweetheart missed me the most I think, judging from the bouquet of lovely flowers, and the bouquet of roses - 2 bouquets!!!  He really missed me.

Bentley wasn't sure who I was.  It took him a few minutes. Then he went crazy! Maybe he missed me more than My Sweetheart did!  Chico, poor soul, was so overcome with emotion that she ran under the desk and shook. She was so worked up all she could do was shake.  And then she cried.  Yes, dogs cry. And then she begged to be lifted up and snuggled.  She wouldn't leave my side after that. Chico missed me too!

It is a powerful feeling - to be loved so much and to recognize the sheer joy of people - people who are happy to have you back home after being away. Homecoming, I think, is the best thing!

Last night I sang at the gala for the Homecoming of my high school's 100th birthday. In a sense I felt like I was 'coming home' to the school where I spent 3 years of my life.  A boarding school. It was good to see a few familiar faces.

Today I was at a funeral. The man who died was an evangelist. He had led many many people to the Lord in his lifetime. His death was, for him, the ultimate "homecoming" - can you imagine what it must have been like for him, when he took his first breath of new life in Heaven, and Jesus looked him in the eyes and said, "welcome HOME, my good and faithful servant."?  What a homecoming for him!


Coming home.  Going home. Welcome home.

Lists

18 hours in a car is now imminent. 7 hours today and the rest tomorrow. We are going to the Coast for our niece's wedding. Most of us are going. DS has opted to stay home and go to school, go to a Career Fair in the city - check out colleges and universities- write a chemistry exam, ump or ref - whatever it's called - at a volleyball tournament, go to youth group. He'll be having fun! I will be squashed in the car with My Sweetheart, DD, and my father in law. And so, right now, I am packing.  Finally.  The week has been spent making lists - lists of stuff to pack, lists of stuff for DS to do, lists of stuff for me to remember to do - get more insurance, pack pills, pick up the clothes that were being altered....Lists, lists, lists.

And packing is a chore. I'm staying for an extra week.My Sweetheart et al will be heading home on Saturday. My Sweetheart is not a packer. He just trusts that I will remember everything.  Extra flashlights?  Check.  Cell phone charger?  Check.  Snacks for 36 hours in the car?  Check.  GPS, with addresses and phone numbers entered correctly?  Check. If anything has been forgotten it will be because it wasn't on the list. And because I am staying for an extra week I have to pack accordingly.  I have to remember to pack an extra suitcase.  I'm flying home.  So I have to remember to pack accordingly for that too.  Not too much. But not too little. I might be going shopping - I need comfortable shoes.  It will be October when I come home.  It might be cool.  I need a warmer jacket - just in case. Wedding clothes, church clothes, everyday clothes, shopping clothes.  

I am excited to be going, and excited to be staying and excited to be coming home just in time for Thanksgiving. We're going to have a great time. I'm trusting the Lord to watch over DS when we're not here. I'm trusting the Lord to take away my anxiety while we drive through the mountains. That reminds me - I better pack some sedatives!

Back to the packing...

camera - with extra batteries, extra memory card, pills, cell phone, charger, GPS...

Book bag with books for the drive out and the flight home...

The vanity products...

DD`s stuff...

piles on the bed....

snacks...for the trip going and the trip coming back....

Well, I guess I better get back to the packing....













A Quick Fix

I will be the first to admit that I am technologically challenged. DS is probably the second to admit that.

My blue -suede brother came for a visit this summer. And that heralded the 'new camera' fad that went on. He had me pick him up a camera - there were only a few of them in this country and they happened to be inSaskatchewan- an older model. I liked it so much, that when he came through, I had him pick the same camera up - the last one- at Wally's World.

Long story short~ a few weeks ago my camera quit working. Or rather, the memory card quit working. I panicked. I grabbed the old memory card, from the even older camera and stuck it in.  And IT worked. But I was still nervous.  What if my camera has some kind of virus? I thought that. Maybe just computers get viruses, but in this technological world, what do the techno inept know? I didn't want to take a chance.  So I never used my camera.  It had quit, after all, just after uploading pictures for this laptop for my last blog that had pictures. I thought, maybe my laptop installed a virus to my camera and it attacked my memory card. Who knows?  Obviously, not me.

So, this morning, after going to the farmer store on an errand, I took my camera to WW - to the photo department and told them my story.  I didn't tell them that maybe my memory card got a virus - that would have been stupid.  So I just played innocent. And told them my memory card just doesn't work.
The friendly guy, or maybe he was smirking at my stupidity, looked at my memory card, and flipped the "locked" tab down to "unlock."



Unexpected Surprise

Well, I suppose all surprises are unexpected or else they wouldn't be a surprise now, would they?

I received  a surprise on Friday. And I was able to surprise My Sweetheart with the same surprise. He thought something must be up when I called him on his cell, just before supper, and told him he might want to come in for a shower. Typically I don't encourage him to come in for a shower before we dine when I know he's just going to go back outside and continue muckin' in the dirt. But on Friday evening, early Friday evening, I phoned him, even though he was in the yard, visible from my vantage point in the kitchen, and told him he just might want to come in for a shower.

He didn't. The cement people were here working on the cement for the pole shed and he was engrossed in that.  Too engrossed to pull away to come and get cleaned up for the surprise!

The funny thing was, just to back up before we were both surprised, that right after lunch, when I ran down to the basement freezer to rummage around, seeing what looked good for supper, I came upstairs with a huge beef roast.  And I thought to myself, as I was bringing this huge roast upstairs, 'why, on earth am I bringing up such a huge roast?'  This will feed us for quite a few days.  But I set it in the roaster and put it in the oven anyway.  And then, My Sweetheart's sister phoned me - or maybe I phoned her- I don't remember right now - and since we usually talk for quite a while when we are on the phone, I set the phone on 'speaker' and proceeded to talk to her as I made a pie. I had no intention of making a pie when we started conversing - it just happened.  Cocoanut cream pie.  Home-made.
So, here I had a huge roast in the oven and a pie cooling on the cupboard. Dear Son was going to grab a bite to eat at the volleyball tournament. DD, My Sweetheart and I were, apparently, going to have a feast.

At around 4:30 in the afternoon DD and I ran into town. I had a cheque to cash at the credit union.  My cousin works there. After cashing my cheque I invited her to come out for supper.  She was going to be coming out that evening anyway, so why not come out and eat with us?  We had lots of food.

Just before getting into my car I saw 2 women walking towards me. 1 of them I recognized as My Sweetheart's cousin.  She had just recently moved into town. And then she introduced me to her sister. My Sweetheart's cousin who I had only ever heard about.  I had never met her.  And I always wanted to. We didn't know she was down for a visit.  I was so surprised and so happy to finally meet Esther - My Sweetheart's cousin from Carrot River. I have an uncle who lives in Carrot River, and I found out that night that Esther knows my uncle.  Small world!

Anyway, My Sweetheart's cousins and my cousin were able to join us for supper that night! We had lots of food! His cousins were his surprise by the way. I think he was wishing he would have come in for that shower!

Laughter and Tears

My Sweetheart and I went to the city today. Primarily, or so I thought, to buy new clothes for My Sweetheart to wear at his niece's (our flowergirl's) wedding.  The wedding is in 2 weeks.  We needed to act fast.  But My Sweetheart had a list.  You know - a long city farmer list. Anyway,as we started out on our trek I remembered that my brother had phoned.  Not my blue-suede brother, but my other brother.  He had phoned last night when I was out.  And my family was outside working.  So we missed his call.

So, on our way to the city for the farmer stuff (how ironic is that?) and for the wedding clothes, I sent him a text. I texted "i know you phoned last night."  He replied, "I did?"  I thought that was a strange reply. So I texted back, "yeah, you phoned when I was out and my family was outside."  And then I never heard back from him.

While I was in the mall, after finding some exquisite bras for the newer, smaller me, and while waiting for My Sweetheart while he was finding the stuff on his 'list', I checked the outbox on my cell phone. Who knew that the numbers that spell out P-H-O-N-E-D on a cell are the exact same numbers that spell out S-I-N-N-E-D? No wonder my brother hadn't replied.  I think he was dumbfounded.  Then I got the giggles while I was trying to imagine his bewilderment. "I know you sinned last night."  ~ that's the message he would have got.  And then "Yeah, you sinned when I was out and my family was outside." My giggles, which I tried to stifle being that I was all by myself and all, turned into loud snorts. And that got me laughing even louder. So here I was walking down the hall of the mall snorting and laughing all by myself. By this time My Sweetheart was in the parking lot waiting for me.  He was on his cell phone and almost couldn't hear himself talk to the neighbor who lives right across the road from us, because I was laughing so hard.

Eventually we bought some wedding duds - that was another adventure. But we got it done.  My Sweetheart wants his niece to know that he must love her very much to have spent so much time in a dressing room.

After running around and running out of time to get everything on both of our lists complete, we headed home. I phoned my brother and started laughing again when he told me that he was wracking his brain trying to figure out what he had done last night that I would have found out about. That was worth the phone call right then. And of couse, more laughter and guffawing ensued.

The giggles that had been so prominent for most of the day have now been replaced with tears. I just got off the phone after talking with  a dear friend.  A soccer mom friend. A woman who has been a friend since our boys were 10 and 11 years old.  We met at the soccer pitch. There are a unique group of us 'soccer parents' whose friendship grew very quickly.  A group of 'soccer parents' who enjoy just being together. I love these friends. Anyway, my dear friend ~ 1 of my dear friends anyway - informed me that 1 of the soccer boys - a young man now - a boy who has played soccer with DS since they were 10 and 11 years old, a boy whose parents have coached Dear Son in soccer - a good guy,a really truly good guy, with loving, dear parents, has cancer. And it does not look good. He's been in the cancer ward for some time now. The cancer has spread. And all I can do right now is cry. And pray. And hope.  And pray some more.  I know that the Lord can perform a miracle. I know this young man can be healed.  But I also know that maybe he won't be healed. And then I cry some more. How devastating this must be for him.  For his parents.  For his brother.  His grandparents, his friends....

We talked about what we could do as friends - gas gift cards, restaurant gift cards -yes,  that will be provided. But what we can't do, I'm trusting the Lord to do. I'm praying that the Lord will wrap His loving, caring, understanding, strong arms around this family and comfort them. I pray that He will use us, as much as we are able, to be HIS arms around this family as they go through this unwanted journey. I pray that God's light will shine brightly around this family as they are in, no doubt, a dark, dark time. Probably the darkest time that they have ever been in.  And I am praying that their tears of anguish will be replaced with the kind of laughter that dominated my day until l talked to my dear friend on the phone this evening.

All Wrapped Up!

Yesterday, at noonish, the harvest here was finished! A month ahead of last year's harvest! The lentils, canola and durum are all in the bins.  And we are rejoicing and thanking the Lord for a bountiful and safe harvest.

Safety is always, for me, the biggest concern for farming. It is what I tend to worry about the most. And, it is what I pray for the most - safety for my family and safety for all the farmers - especially at harvest time.

I'm amazed at how well the crop turned out considering the small amount of rain we had this summer. It's obvious that the little bit of rain we received came at just the perfect time. Another blessing from the Lord.

I'm also amazed at the record warm temperatures we experienced over this harvest season - unseasonally warm - around 30 degrees celsius for a good week.

We had no major machinery breakdowns this harvest either.  Quite often, in previous harvests, 1 of the combines is down for some sort of repair for a good part of the day. If I recall correctly, last year both of the combines broke down within minutes of each other and were not in use for the better part of a day.  I was talking to 1 lady yesterday at church - she was telling me of someone whose combine was broke down and the part that was needed wouldn't be in until Tuesday. That's a major inconvenience at harvest time.

Saturday was my last day of combining this year. We whittled it down so that by the end of the day there was only about 40 acres left.  The men were more than able to take care of that on Sunday without my help, so that freed me up to go to church.  But on Saturday, before I went out to the field, I swung by town and picked up My Sweetheart's Dad and took him out for a day in the field. He mostly rode with My Sweetheart in the semi and the tandem.  He did, however, take a break from the heat and rode around with DS on his air conditioned combine for a few swipes. My Sweetheart's Dad was out in the field for about 9 hours before I quit for the night and ran him back home. He said he had a good day.  I'm glad we took him out to the field. No regrets!

Saturday was a beautiful day for the last full day of harvest.  In this picture Dear Son is moving the JD combine to the 2nd last field that needs to be harvested.

Now I'm operating the John Deere, and near the top of the picture, you can see the New Holland - DS is operating it.  Maybe Grandpa is riding around with him in this picture. My combine is picking up the last swipe before heading to the last field!!

Look really hard, but you probably won't be able to tell that it's me! But it is!!

My Sweetheart on his combine....

Just kidding - this is 1 of the old relics on the south farm - he just crawled up for a photo op - I'm glad we don't use those combines anymore!

Dear Son and I are dumping our hoppers into the semi at the same time - we have to be very careful to not hit each other's augers! From there My Sweetheart (and his Dad on this day) will drive the semi to the yard and My Sweetheart will get out in the stifling heat to auger it into the bin!

And that's it- harvest is all wrapped up for another year!





A Love-Hate Relationship

Honestly, I have a love-hate relationship with farming.

I love the peacefulness of living on our farm.

I hate having to drive to town from the farm if it's really muddy.

I love working together as a family - tonight DD was manning the fort, while DS and I were operating the combines, and My Sweetheart was hauling  the durum to the bins.

I hate worrying about My Sweetheart when he is unloading at the bins; especially when he has to crawl on top of the bins to check and see how full they are. I, when I came home tonight, had to work the remote for the semi to unload while My Sweetheart was on top of a very high bin. It almost made me nauseous.

I love the harvest sunsets that are enjoyed on the farm.

I hate tarping up the combine in the pouring rain. This happened less than a week ago.  We had over an inch of rain, and I'm sure that when it was raining the hardest, and when the wind had picked up - that's when My Sweetheart came to get me to help put the tarp on the combine. I was drenched and had to run into the school, and pop into the bank on our way home from the north farm where the tarping party had just taken place. 

I love tarping up the combine with My Sweetheart - cold, numb fingers and all!

I hate the junk food lunches that I have time to make on the combine.  Seriously! They're quick and easy, but what I wouldn't give for grilled salmon and rice instead of caffeine-free diet pepsi and munchies.

I love the guilty pleasure of eating junk food for this limited time.

I hate eating alone at supper-time. We all do.  DD eats by herself at home, DS and I munch away on our respective combines, and My Sweetheart grabs a bite while hauling.

I love watching the grain feed into the combine.

I hate feeling like I'm on the combine when I crawl into bed at night.

I love harvesting when the weather is warm.

I hate having to move the tandem to the other end of the field when it is hot though- I just about burned my entire body yesterday when I crawled into the very hot truck with the even hotter seats and steering wheel.

I love coming home each evening, after a long day's work, to DD! I miss her lots at harvest time. And when harvest is over, and the machinery has been put away for another year, when the geese are flying overheard, when the nip in the air reminds me that winter is just around the corner, then I am grateful for another successful harvest season.

National Family Dinner Night

The flyer came in the mail this past week, encouraging us to join the company on Thursday, September 15 for National Family Dinner Night. I did not know, until I read that, that there even was such an event. And then, a few days after receiving that flyer, I heard, on the radio, that on average, the typical family eats together twice a week.

Thankfully, if you were to delve into the statistics at this farm, you would find that, on average, this family eats together, 3 times a day.   Except school days.  But on those days, if you count the popcorn consumed while sitting around the telly, we would still eat together 3 times a day.

There is just something good about eating together as a family. I ususally, probably 95% of the time, since we're talking statistics, shut the television off. And meal time is the time we talk to each other.  Lots of laughter takes place around our family table at mealtime.  Our days are talked about, plans are discussed, we reminisce quite often. It's a good thing, these family dinner nights, that take place regularly here.

So, M& M meats, thank you for the invitation, but we will gladly decline your offer to join you on Sept. 15 for family dinner night. But we invite you to join us every night as we celebrate our family together, not just once a year!