Grandma's Platter

As a little girl growing up on the farm, having an overly vivid imagination, I remember being paralyzed with fear on the rare occasions when I would have to descend to the bowels of the basement.

The basement was scary. It was dark, dank and musty. And the younger I was, the scarier the basement was. There was, with the exception of Dad's tiny little office in the corner close to the cistern, the clothes dryer, and the deep freeze way on the other side of the basement, nothing down there- nothing except dirt, cement, darkness and ghosts. Once in a while, if Mom couldn't, she would send me down to the cold room to bring up a can of fruit or some potatoes. The cold room was the worst! It was VERY dark and VERY scary. I could imagine goblin eyes peering at me from between the jars of crab apple fruit. I could also imagine beedy red rat eyes glaring at me from inside the pototo bin. And one time I remember screaming as I reached into the bin and brought up a mouse. Actually, it was just a pototoe that had turned soft. But it frightened me terribly. And I did not want to venture down to the basement ever again.

As the years went by and I grew up, the basement became less terrifying. Over the years Mom and Dad even spruced it up down there. I remember coming home after being away at boarding school one time, and Mom sent me down to the basement- likely to grab a jar of fruit from the cold room. I was surprised to see a little nook fixed up down there with a couch and a TV, and further on a little bedroom had been set up. It wasn't scary now! It was during one of those times, exploring the basement, after the ghosts had vanished, that I stumbled upon a pretty china platter. I wondered why it was in the basement, so I took it upstairs to find out what I could about it.

Mom told me that it was Grandma Blanche's platter and that she was pretty sure it had been a wedding gift for Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma Blanche was my Dad's mom, and she had died years ago. The platter stayed upstairs then- after all it was too pretty to be down in the basement.

When my parents moved into town in 1985 the platter went with them. It would be set on the table when company came, with cookies on it. I would always admire that platter. After Dad died I received Grandma's platter as a birthday gift from Mom. It was a perfect gift for me.

I sometimes try to imagine Grandma Blanche serving her friends cookies on that platter. I try to imagine what life was like for Grandma Blanche when she was a young woman. Especially knowing now, what no-one knew then, about her secret - a secret revealed to us almost 14 years ago.

Grandma Blanche was born in 1903 - she was the second oldest of 13 children born to her parents - William and Edith Goddard. They had left their home in England, immigrated to Canada, and eventually ended up living just a few miles west of where I live now. I imagine that with a house full of so many children there would be lots of laughter,lots of tears, and lots of love. I also imagine that, because Grandma Blanche was 1 of the oldest of her siblings, her lot in life was to be a helper to her mom.

Grandma Blanche became pregnant before she was married, and she was shipped off to the big city, before anyone else would have suspected. Given the year this happened I can only imagine how devastated and lonely she would have been. I wonder what excuse her parents would have given to their neighbors and friends, and even the younger siblings, as to why Blanche, then 21 years old, left the comfort of all that she knew, to go to the big city where she knew no-one. Her baby was born in January 1925. Grandma Blanche would have left her home, perhaps in the summer or early fall of 1924. What mode of transportation would she have travelled by? Train? Vehicle? How long would it have taken her? My Dad travelled with his parents and little sister to a different big city in the back of Fred Castagner's 2 ton truck in 1939 to see King George. That would have been a very long, tiring drive in 1939 in the back of a 2 ton truck to travel 180 miles. In 1924, when Grandma Blanche went to the big city, it would have been even worse. Not only did she leave behind her family; she would have also left behind the man she loved- the father of this baby.

Was the father of this baby the same man who she married a year later? I suspect he was. I'm pretty sure that the father of her baby, the baby she likely heartbrokenly left behind in the big city to be adopted by another couple, was the man she loved. The man with whom she would be pregnant with another child by before she married him. I imagine that as soon as she suspected she was pregnant again she hurried up and married the man she loved in order to avoid being shipped off to the big city again. This time the baby Grandma carried inside her, on her wedding day in 1926, was my Dad.

And on Grandma Blanche's wedding day, she was gifted with a platter that this grand-daughter, who never knew her Grandma Blanche, fills with cookies every Sunday and takes to church for potluck lunch.

The Train Ride

"Beauty is not caused. It is." - Emily Dickinson

The average, per day, of visitors to Disneyland, according to 1 survey, is 40,000. At the end of November we made up 6 of those people in that statistic. The 6 of us had all been to Disneyland years before, but it wasn't until close to the end of this magical trip that we discovered the Disney railroad. On a whim I decided we should "see what's up these stairs", and once we did, we decided to get on board the Disneyland train and go for a ride. Naturally, we wished we had discovered the train on our previous trip when DD and DS were young children and it would have been way more convenient to ride around the park. But we hadn't.

I thought we would be going on just an ordinary ride around an extraordinary park. I was wrong. The Disney creative team had worked their magic on the train ride too. We almost missed the fun of the train ride. As we circled the park we were witnesses to scenes unseen from inside the park - scenes specially created just for the eyes of the railroad guests. As amazing and magical as the man-made creations were, there was, for me, a gift from God- a marvel of HIS creation. Tucked away, on the side of the small slope of a small hill that encircled the park, was a tiny, beautiful, perfectly created, natural array of purple wildflowers. My family hadn't noticed the flowers, and so I wondered if they were there just for me. The diminutive blossoms directed me to the Greatness of The God who loves me extravagantly, the Creator God whose creations exhibit His greatness. The wonder that is Disney pales in comparison to the Wonder that is the God who loves me so much that He sent His Son to die for me. This is the God who has wonders unimaginable waiting for me to enjoy in Heaven. But until then, I am content to be surprised by beauty that is waiting to be beheld in obscure places. I am ready to be surprised by what the Lord has in store for me just around the corner.

"God has made everything beautiful in itself and in it's time." Ecclesiastes 3:11

How Sneaky

The sale sticker let me know I could get 2 loaves of bread for $4.00. I thought that $2 per loaf was a good deal, so I threw 2 loaves of 100% whole wheat bread in my shopping cart. Then I checked the regular price. $1.99 per loaf. I double checked the sale sticker, re-checked the regular price, made sure I was looking at the same bread, and then I rolled my eyes. Obviously the 'sale' sticker meant that the bread was FOR sale and not necessarily ON sale.

I try to be aware of stuff like that when I'm shopping. I usually compare sale prices to the regular prices to make sure I'm actually getting a good deal. I try not to be taken in by sales gimmicks that don't have the best interests of the consumer at heart.



But it IS a smart move from a business point of view I suppose. All the sticker said was "SALE". It didn't say, "GOOD DEAL FOR THE CONSUMER". But, in my opinion, it was misleading. It wasn't a lie. The item was for sale. But it annoyed me nonetheless. It was sneaky.

His Love Never Quits

Twenty-six times. Twenty-six times that I needed to hear today that God is love; that His love never quits. In Psalm 136 I read, 26 times, that His love never quits. Never. Ever. Period.

I took the above picture on Sunday. My cousin from Alberta, Mom, my uncle and I went to the cemetary where Dad and my 2 Aunties are buried. I hadn't been out there since 2008. I was struck by how peaceful it was. The birds were singing. It was very calm. But I felt such a heaviness in my spirit while wandering around, reading the gravemarkers, pondering lives once lived, thinking of families devastated by loss. How do parents bury children? At one site there were 2 graves of 2 young children- siblings who both died in 1918. How does a mother cope with that? Their grave markers were sinking in the gumbo soil, the words once etched in stone were barely visible, but at one point in time a mother's heart grieved. And on Sunday, on weeks prior to Sunday, and still this week, this mother-heart is burdened.

I have been, as I posted on 1 facebook status update, battling the doldrums. I came to realize a few years ago, that springtime is very unsettling for me. I've never liked spring. I've never liked my birthday as it is usually a day, for me, to be forgotten. And my birthday is in spring. My Dad died in the spring. Some people see the new life all around at springtime- I see death. As much as I don't like heat and bugs and most things associated with summer, for me it is so much better than spring.

So when I was walking around the cemetary on Sunday, feeling as bogged down as the tombstones that were sinking and cracking, I caught a glimpse of hope. And right now I am grabbing on to those glimpses, however small they may seem. In the southwest corner of the cemetary was a cross. It was probably hand crafted from steel. The cross was pointing upward in stark contrast to everything else in that cemetary that was weighing heavily downward. I kept looking up at that cross- hopeful. And as I got closer to read the small plaque that was nestled where the horizontal beam crossed with the vertical, upward beam, I smiled at the words, "God is Love." That was it. The person's name, dates of life, and "God is love."

Today, while pleading with the Lord to give me hope just for today, I was led to read Psalm 136. I read the Message translation. And I was given hope today from God's Word- His word that is always faithful, always true, and always speaks to this Mother-heart where God's Word is needed most.

I take comfort, today, in knowing that His love never quits. Verse 23 spoke specifically to me, today, what I desperately needed to hear- "God remembered me when I was down - His love never quits."

I choose to believe that God is, indeed, love, and that His love never quits.

Dust Bunnies and Reading Buddies

I had too much time to sit and think this afternoon as I was driving to my friend's home, in the city, for a jewellery party.

As soon as I pulled on to the highway I started thinking about how absolutely incredibly blessed I am to be a wife who is loved and treasured by My Sweetheart. And I was thinking, and being thankful, about how blessed I am to be Mom to 2 amazing teenagers. And with the thinking about it came the reminiscing.

I was reminiscing about how it just seemed like yesterday when we headed off to the city, young exuberant soccer player wanna be in tow, to his first ever soccer game. We knew the coach's name, but didn't know who he was. We knew where to go, and by the time we pulled up to the soccer field, there were piles and piles of little kids wearing shorts and soccer shoes, or running shoes, running all over the place. Dear Son could hardly wait to be out there with them. He was 7. And he was very cute with his little glasses and big Bugs Bunny teeth. We barely got the van parked before he was out there, in the big world - running. Running, for the first time, away from us - toward a dream that he had had for a few years. And it was bittersweet to see him take off, away from us. I suppose I started thinking about that because I was going to a soccer mom friend's home for the party. I am so thankful for my 'soccer mom' friends. I met them all about 10 years ago, our common bond at the time were our soccer boys. And before I got to the closest little community on my jaunt to the city I was thinking about those little soccer boys who are now on the verge of adulthood. In fact, half of those boys will be graduating high school this year. And that got me thinking about next year, when DS will be graduating, and handing his mama a rose at the graduation ceremony,and looking all grown up and handsome... And I started to cry. I tried to keep the cry- pretty. I think I did okay. I was worried about the running make-up and the jewellery party.

I also got to thinking about how fortunate DD and DS are to go to school where they go to school. They attend a k-12 school. There aren't too many k-12 schools around here. It's quite something to be part of. I walked into the school one day last fall and my heart melted when I saw the grade 11 class paired up with Reading Buddies. DS was reading to Bret- the youngest boy I think, in the whole school. It doesn't seem long ago since I was reading bedtime stories to DS. Well, you probably can tell where this is going. The tears started again. All gratitude tears though.

I turned my thoughts to DD. I was thinking about how blessed I am to be her mom. She is, perhaps, 1 of the kindest, sweetest persons I know. She has a sweet spirit. And I'm thankful for her tender heart. When I left home this morning she had cleaned 2 bathrooms, washed the furniture and grand piano, vacuumed up the dust bunnies and was just starting to mop. I hadn't even asked her to do that. She just did it. That's the kind of person she is. She sees a need, and gets right to it. Without complaint. She had supper ready when I got home too. Can you see how my mother heart was turned to mush today?

I wish I could bottle up these moments. Reading buddies. Dust Bunnies. I am blessed.

That's a Relief

I like to think of myself as a creative sort. That helps me come to terms with why my desks and music cupboards are such a mess. When the creative juices start to flow everything that's in the way becomes scrambled. Bits of paper are tossed to and fro when lyric ideas pop into my mind. Pencils are grabbed and lost, manuscript is ripped, and woe to any little scrap of paper that is in the wrong place when I need to write something down.
Up until, oh maybe last year, my record keeping was a schmozzle. The cheque book was a mess until before Christmas- just this past Christmas. Well, I better clarify... my entries in the cheque book were a mess; My Sweetheart's entries were precise. My numbers were usually indecipherable to My Sweetheart. That posed problems, especially when it was time to do the tax stuff. Especially when I would forget to enter a transaction. Or when I would forget to write an entry in my ledger that was supposed to be used to keep track of piano lesson stuff. My Sweetheart presented me with a ledger a few years ago. I promised to keep better track of my income and expenses. It must be frustrating for My Sweetheart to be married to me at tax time.

So, knowing this about myself, and knowing the heartache that I caused the love of my life in the past, I determined to try and improve myself in this area. This fall, when I started back to teaching piano lessons, I surprised myself by writing every entry in my book at the times needed. I kept track of every bank deposit- in my ledger, and in the cheque book. I kept every receipt in my ledger, and I even wrote it down in my ledger. I have every expense from the jewellery business in an envelope. When I got my pay stubs from the library, they went into my library bag. And when the time came, tonight, to meet with My Sweetheart and present him with my 'stuff', lo and behold, I had everything! Everything that I needed! What a relief! What other years might have taken me hours and hours and hours to go through,tonight we completed in just one hour and a half! I'm almost giddy!

My Letter from Jannel

I just finished writing a letter to Jannel. I'm not very good at writing letters, or rather, I don't usually make time to write letters. But Jannel's letter to us warranted a letter. And I'm very glad I took a few minutes out of my day to reply. It will brighten her day.

Jannel's letter included a picture that she had drawn for us. It was a picture of her playing with her sister and brother. One of them (I'm assuming it was Jannel) was holding a brightly colored flower. Everything in the picture was brightly colored. It was a happy picture.

Jannel is one of the children that my family is privileged to sponsor. We have the pictures of our 3 sponsored children on our fridge. The pictures are our prompters to pray for them.

Jannel has very little as far as material possessions. But she is wealthy in the things that money can't buy. She is happy. She is loved. She is loved by her family and loved by us- relative strangers who will likely never see her this side of Heaven- and loved by the God of the universe. The same loving God who sent me a letter- a love letter, in the form of the Bible- a letter that tells me I am loved. It includes more than a picture of His love for me. It is His Word that lets me get to know Him more. I can read His letter to me every day and discover more and more of His love for me. And it brightens my day. Just like Jannel's letter brightened my day.