I celebrated my 4th birthday in the old Kruse Apartments. I also celebrated my birth there 4 years earlier when it was the local hospital. In the years between my birth and my birthday party a new hospital had been built and the old one had been converted to apartments. And in the winter of 1967-68 we lived in the Kruse Apartments while My Dad worked in town. Or so I've been told.
The apartment itself was tiny. It had 2 bedrooms, a small bathroom, a kitchen, and the living room, as I recall, was just like a hallway. I remember the couch against the wall.
I'm amazed now, in retrospect, just how Mom managed to fit my birthday party gang around the kitchen table. Regardless, we did fit. And I remember who was there. Robin, the girl who lived down the hall in another apartment, my cousins Vince and Laurie, who lived in town, my 2nd cousins Teresa and Wesley, Patti, my very first friend, and Wanda Berg. I would have known Wanda from Sunday School. I'm not sure how Teresa and Wesley happened to be at my birthday party, but they were. And I'm glad. They didn't live in town, so I'm thinking they must have been visiting.
We had hot dogs and angel food cake. That was, after all, the traditional birthday party menu at our home. And likely there was cragmont pop. And more than likely, the pop would have been grape or orange flavoured. The pop and the angel food was, in my opinion, the only good part of the menu. I hate hot dogs.
While I don't remember what all my gifts were at my 4th birthday party, I do remember what Wanda Berg gave me. Why I remember is beyond me. But her gift made a lasting impression so I must have really really liked it. Wanda Berg gave me a set of plastic pigs- one of them held bubble bath and the other held lotion. The other day I was trying out some new body lotion. I had picked up quite a few lotions with tantalizing names while at a mall in a nearby city. This particular one was called Sea Cotton, or something like that. When I dropped a dollop of it onto my hand and smelled it, I was transported back to 4 year old me, happily smearing the lotion from the piggy onto my hands. The smell was exactly the same.
It's amazing how different sounds and sights and smells we experience now can evoke memories of the past. I smell Jergens lotion and I can close my eyes and imagine I'm back in the old farmhouse where I grew up. A kitten mewing can trigger memories of playing with the kittens in the old barn loft. The sight of a green kettle on a cupboard brings back nostalgic memories of walking into the old farm kitchen knowing that underneath that lid is rice pudding. And now, after smelling the Sea Cotton, I found myself back around the old kitchen table in the tiny apartment where we lived for one magical winter.
Lady and the Cats
bonding on the farm!
Monday, September 30, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Driving Away
In just a few short hours DS will be driving away. For him, excitement is mounting. For me, my heart is preparing to burst out of the chest cavity.
We've been preparing for this day, in a strange way, since the day we brought him, as a newborn, home.
Every hug given and returned,
every lesson learned,
every mistake made,
every victory,
every tear shed,
every smile,
every step taken,
every moment of every day...
has led Dear Son to THIS day. This incredible, exciting, grown-up, marvellous journey of his life is finally here.
finally.
The roots have been established.
Wings are taking flight.
The many prayers on his behalf have been and will continue to be prayed.
Letting go is happening.
Seemingly overnight.
My tears are just under the surface.
Sad tears.
Proud tears.
Happy tears.
They will come,
I know.
But first I must let go.
Roots and wings.
Beginnings and endings and beginnings again.
I take comfort
that my child, now a young man,
is loved by the Lord.
Completely. Perfectly. Sacrificially. Totally.
Loved.
We've been preparing for this day, in a strange way, since the day we brought him, as a newborn, home.
Every hug given and returned,
every lesson learned,
every mistake made,
every victory,
every tear shed,
every smile,
every step taken,
every moment of every day...
has led Dear Son to THIS day. This incredible, exciting, grown-up, marvellous journey of his life is finally here.
finally.
The roots have been established.
Wings are taking flight.
The many prayers on his behalf have been and will continue to be prayed.
Letting go is happening.
Seemingly overnight.
My tears are just under the surface.
Sad tears.
Proud tears.
Happy tears.
They will come,
I know.
But first I must let go.
Roots and wings.
Beginnings and endings and beginnings again.
I take comfort
that my child, now a young man,
is loved by the Lord.
Completely. Perfectly. Sacrificially. Totally.
Loved.
Monday, August 19, 2013
The Suit
There's no 5 by 7 recipe card with his name on it saying that it even was his, nor is there a name on a 5 by 7 card saying who donated it, but the suit in the museum, the suit that he wore in the Korean War, was My Dad's. I'm guessing that it's not even called a suit, but the army green jacket matches the army green pants, so I'm calling it a suit.
Today, when I went to the museum to pick up DD for lunch, I went early so I would have time to peruse some photo albums. I was delighted to see a picture from a parade in 1977 - a picture of a float. On that float, along with 3 other war veterans, was My Dad and he was wearing that suit - the army green suit that is on display in the museum where his namesake is working for the summer.
I doubt anyone else who has looked at it, or will look at it, could be as excited about that suit as I am. But I am a bit of a family historian buff. And so, stuff like that is important to me. My Dad wore that suit, and as far as I know, it is the only piece of clothing left of My Dad's with the exception of maybe a tie that Mom gave to Dad's cousin's husband after Dad died. The only time I saw Dad wearing that green suit was in that parade in 1977.
There was a young couple in the library today. They were also family historian buffs. They were living in a different province, but stopped in to look through local history books to see if they could find anything about her family - a family from a neighboring town. The excitement of discovering pictures of her family mounted with every familiar face they discovered in the history books. They left here on a mission of going to that town to see if they could buy a history book. I hope there were still some copies available for them to get their hands on.
I still miss My Dad, but I'm grateful for the treasure of that green suit that is tucked away in our quaint little museum.
Today, when I went to the museum to pick up DD for lunch, I went early so I would have time to peruse some photo albums. I was delighted to see a picture from a parade in 1977 - a picture of a float. On that float, along with 3 other war veterans, was My Dad and he was wearing that suit - the army green suit that is on display in the museum where his namesake is working for the summer.
I doubt anyone else who has looked at it, or will look at it, could be as excited about that suit as I am. But I am a bit of a family historian buff. And so, stuff like that is important to me. My Dad wore that suit, and as far as I know, it is the only piece of clothing left of My Dad's with the exception of maybe a tie that Mom gave to Dad's cousin's husband after Dad died. The only time I saw Dad wearing that green suit was in that parade in 1977.
There was a young couple in the library today. They were also family historian buffs. They were living in a different province, but stopped in to look through local history books to see if they could find anything about her family - a family from a neighboring town. The excitement of discovering pictures of her family mounted with every familiar face they discovered in the history books. They left here on a mission of going to that town to see if they could buy a history book. I hope there were still some copies available for them to get their hands on.
I still miss My Dad, but I'm grateful for the treasure of that green suit that is tucked away in our quaint little museum.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Overwhelmed
The past few weeks have been a test for me of trust; a test that I feel I have passed. It's easy to trust in the Lord when things are going good. For most of my life everything has been good.
But, when life throws a glitch, then what?
For me, I still trust. My Jesus is trustworthy.
I recorded an original song a few years back proclaiming this trust- a song called "our Hope". It was based on Psalm 33 : 20-22. I still proclaim that hope in the Lord and my unwavering trust in Him.
This past week I determined that I would go through whatever path the Lord wanted me to travel. His ways are the best after all. And while on that path I have experienced overwhelming support of family and friends. I was, and am in awe, of the phone calls, visits, encouragement and love that I have received from those dear people who the Lord has set in my path.
The phone calls and prayers from people who don't usually call lifted my spirits. Thank you so much!
I have really experienced the hands and feet of Christ from many and for that alone I would not change the weeks on wondering that I have went through. People truly care and that overwhelms me.
This morning, I was reading from Proverbs 15 and a verse popped out at me - verse 30:
"A twinkle in the eye means joy in the heart,
and good news makes you feel fit as a fiddle."
I'm happy to report that I was the recipient of good news. My doctor received the results of the biopsy yesterday and there is no cancer. I am, according to Proverbs 15:30 - "fit as a fiddle!"
And while myself and my dear family are rejoicing over my good news, I am having mixed feelings. Because while all is well here- now- some people I know have been receiving bad news. And I want to encourage you to pray for them. I want my friends to experience, overwhelmingly, the hands and feet of Christ the way I have.
A friend from college is waiting for her husband to come out of surgery as I am writing this. He unexpectedly had a heart attack the other day. She needs to be overwhelmed by the prayers of people who care.
Dear Son's friend from soccer is undergoing cancer surgery today- a 20 hour surgery from what I hear. His tumour that showed up a few years ago just reared its ugly cancer head again. That family need to be overwhelmed by the prayers of people who care.
My co-worker's husband fell off a ladder yesterday and broke some bones badly. Swelling needs to go down before surgery can take place. They need to be overwhelmed by the prayers of people who care.
Since I received my 'good report' I can't help but wonder, "why me?"
When so many people are going through such difficulties, why am I spared? I believe it's so I can be someone who can overwhelm others by praying.
But, when life throws a glitch, then what?
For me, I still trust. My Jesus is trustworthy.
I recorded an original song a few years back proclaiming this trust- a song called "our Hope". It was based on Psalm 33 : 20-22. I still proclaim that hope in the Lord and my unwavering trust in Him.
This past week I determined that I would go through whatever path the Lord wanted me to travel. His ways are the best after all. And while on that path I have experienced overwhelming support of family and friends. I was, and am in awe, of the phone calls, visits, encouragement and love that I have received from those dear people who the Lord has set in my path.
The phone calls and prayers from people who don't usually call lifted my spirits. Thank you so much!
I have really experienced the hands and feet of Christ from many and for that alone I would not change the weeks on wondering that I have went through. People truly care and that overwhelms me.
This morning, I was reading from Proverbs 15 and a verse popped out at me - verse 30:
"A twinkle in the eye means joy in the heart,
and good news makes you feel fit as a fiddle."
I'm happy to report that I was the recipient of good news. My doctor received the results of the biopsy yesterday and there is no cancer. I am, according to Proverbs 15:30 - "fit as a fiddle!"
And while myself and my dear family are rejoicing over my good news, I am having mixed feelings. Because while all is well here- now- some people I know have been receiving bad news. And I want to encourage you to pray for them. I want my friends to experience, overwhelmingly, the hands and feet of Christ the way I have.
A friend from college is waiting for her husband to come out of surgery as I am writing this. He unexpectedly had a heart attack the other day. She needs to be overwhelmed by the prayers of people who care.
Dear Son's friend from soccer is undergoing cancer surgery today- a 20 hour surgery from what I hear. His tumour that showed up a few years ago just reared its ugly cancer head again. That family need to be overwhelmed by the prayers of people who care.
My co-worker's husband fell off a ladder yesterday and broke some bones badly. Swelling needs to go down before surgery can take place. They need to be overwhelmed by the prayers of people who care.
Since I received my 'good report' I can't help but wonder, "why me?"
When so many people are going through such difficulties, why am I spared? I believe it's so I can be someone who can overwhelm others by praying.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Stitches
When I was in grade 3 I had my appendix out. The doctor, Dr. Ramiya, strangely smelled my breath and said, "She needs her appendix out." How could he smell that? Hmm...
Anyway, some time after, after spending a week in the hospital in my home town, and then after some time at home, it was time for the stitches to come out. Back in 1972 stitches didn't dissolve on their own. And so, Mom, and possibly even Dad, took me back to the hospital for the procedure.
Dr. Ramiya came into the room where I was laying on the table. I'm pretty sure there was a nurse in the room too. And Mom. I remember the pain of the moment. He grabbed the end of the 'thread' and yanked. Not gently. No warning. Just 'yank!' Apparently the 'stitches' was 1 long 'stitch'. 1 long piece of stitch thread came out. My head spun. My nausea danced. I almost fainted. That hurt! I never forgot that hurt. Fortunately all the other stitches that I've had put in my body have been held together by dissolvable stitches. And they were all put 'in' when I was 'out'.
Except for Easter 2002. Well, the day before Easter actually. Dear Son, who was 5 at the time, wanted to play ball. I was up to bat. DS was the pitcher. Man! Could he ever pitch. I didn't even see the ball coming. The pain in my mouth immediately after he wound up alerted me to the fact that he had already pitched. And so I went for stitches. "Oh!" my doctor said as he looked at me, "Oh, this might hurt a little when I put the freezing in..." I'm learning to be wary of his warnings of 'might hurt a bit.." Honestly though, it didn't hurt. I ended up with stitches in my lip and it swelled really big and I was due to sing the next morning at church with a swollen, sore lip! The stitches were dissolvable though.
Today I went up to the health care centre in my little town to have my stitch removed from the biopsy. The nurse was so kind. "Is this from a lumpectomy?" she asked. "No- biopsy," I replied. The gloves came on, the tweezers came out, and the stitch was removed. No pain. No nausea. No fainting.
I left and walked out into the beautiful sunshiny summer day.
I wish the stitch removal was also the end of the waiting for results. Closure would be nice. But still I wait. And still I am prayed for. And still I trust in the Lord, the Lord who is the One who heals. The One who knows me better than I know myself wants my trust. And so I give it to Him. Wholeheartedly. Stitch scars and all...
Anyway, some time after, after spending a week in the hospital in my home town, and then after some time at home, it was time for the stitches to come out. Back in 1972 stitches didn't dissolve on their own. And so, Mom, and possibly even Dad, took me back to the hospital for the procedure.
Dr. Ramiya came into the room where I was laying on the table. I'm pretty sure there was a nurse in the room too. And Mom. I remember the pain of the moment. He grabbed the end of the 'thread' and yanked. Not gently. No warning. Just 'yank!' Apparently the 'stitches' was 1 long 'stitch'. 1 long piece of stitch thread came out. My head spun. My nausea danced. I almost fainted. That hurt! I never forgot that hurt. Fortunately all the other stitches that I've had put in my body have been held together by dissolvable stitches. And they were all put 'in' when I was 'out'.
Except for Easter 2002. Well, the day before Easter actually. Dear Son, who was 5 at the time, wanted to play ball. I was up to bat. DS was the pitcher. Man! Could he ever pitch. I didn't even see the ball coming. The pain in my mouth immediately after he wound up alerted me to the fact that he had already pitched. And so I went for stitches. "Oh!" my doctor said as he looked at me, "Oh, this might hurt a little when I put the freezing in..." I'm learning to be wary of his warnings of 'might hurt a bit.." Honestly though, it didn't hurt. I ended up with stitches in my lip and it swelled really big and I was due to sing the next morning at church with a swollen, sore lip! The stitches were dissolvable though.
Today I went up to the health care centre in my little town to have my stitch removed from the biopsy. The nurse was so kind. "Is this from a lumpectomy?" she asked. "No- biopsy," I replied. The gloves came on, the tweezers came out, and the stitch was removed. No pain. No nausea. No fainting.
I left and walked out into the beautiful sunshiny summer day.
I wish the stitch removal was also the end of the waiting for results. Closure would be nice. But still I wait. And still I am prayed for. And still I trust in the Lord, the Lord who is the One who heals. The One who knows me better than I know myself wants my trust. And so I give it to Him. Wholeheartedly. Stitch scars and all...
Sunday, August 4, 2013
He's Singing Over Me
Years ago, when I attended the Alliance Church in the city, I remember my spirit melting whenever Dennis would sing. I remember thinking that his wife, Faith, was pretty lucky. I could imagine Dennis singing her to sleep at night. And so, I prayed, that the Lord would bless me with a husband who would sing over me.
Then I met My Sweetheart. No woman, in her right mind, would want My Sweetheart to sing her to sleep. It just wouldn't happen.
The Lord blessed me, not with a husband who sings me to sleep, but a husband who is perfect for me in every way that I need him to be.
My Sweetheart is faithful.
My Sweetheart is hard working.
My Sweetheart is a good provider.
My Sweetheart is honest.
My Sweetheart is compassionate.
My Sweetheart is a good father.
My Sweetheart is a wonderful friend.
My Sweetheart is not, however, a good singer.
Yesterday was a particularly difficult day for me. I was down. I was worried a little bit. I'm trying to renew my mind because that's an important thing to do, according to Scripture. "do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind so that you may prove what the will of God is- that which is good and acceptable and perfect..." (from Romans 12)
I'm telling myself that worry is not good. It serves no purpose. I'm trying to shoo it from the hidden crevices in my mind. But it's hiding there. And when I think I'm doing good- poof- worry rears its ugly and annoying head. And it could very well keep on doing that until I get the results back regarding that biopsy. My mind is not transforming as quickly as I'd like it to. But, I realize, transformation is usually not instantaneous. Maybe I should delete the word "usually" from that sentence.
I needed someone to sing over me yesterday. I sang. I worshipped. I prayed. I cried a little. But I really wanted to be sung over.
This morning I came upon a treasure in the Bible, in an obscure book that I had not paid too much attention to. Zephaniah. A prophet. A short 3 chapter treasure nestled between Habbakuk and Haggai.
In the many, many verses in the Bible regarding singing, especially in the Psalms, the singing is a personal or corporate response to God's love. But, in this book of Zephaniah, is a verse that I will be memorizing. It speaks of God's abiding love for me. And it tells me that HE is singing over me. Me! My Creator is singing over me!
The Lord your God is in your midst.
(He is with me- Emmanuel)
The Mighty One will save
(He is my Saviour)
He will rejoice over you with gladness.
(What an affirmation)
He will quiet you with His love.
(Abiding peace)
He will rejoice over you with singing.
(I am rejoiced over. And sung over.)
Zephaniah 3:17
What a difference a day, and a verse, can make. I'm not worried today. I know that My God is rejoicing over me with gladness, quieting me with love, and rejoicing over me with singing. No one on earth can top that.
Then I met My Sweetheart. No woman, in her right mind, would want My Sweetheart to sing her to sleep. It just wouldn't happen.
The Lord blessed me, not with a husband who sings me to sleep, but a husband who is perfect for me in every way that I need him to be.
My Sweetheart is faithful.
My Sweetheart is hard working.
My Sweetheart is a good provider.
My Sweetheart is honest.
My Sweetheart is compassionate.
My Sweetheart is a good father.
My Sweetheart is a wonderful friend.
My Sweetheart is not, however, a good singer.
Yesterday was a particularly difficult day for me. I was down. I was worried a little bit. I'm trying to renew my mind because that's an important thing to do, according to Scripture. "do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind so that you may prove what the will of God is- that which is good and acceptable and perfect..." (from Romans 12)
I'm telling myself that worry is not good. It serves no purpose. I'm trying to shoo it from the hidden crevices in my mind. But it's hiding there. And when I think I'm doing good- poof- worry rears its ugly and annoying head. And it could very well keep on doing that until I get the results back regarding that biopsy. My mind is not transforming as quickly as I'd like it to. But, I realize, transformation is usually not instantaneous. Maybe I should delete the word "usually" from that sentence.
I needed someone to sing over me yesterday. I sang. I worshipped. I prayed. I cried a little. But I really wanted to be sung over.
This morning I came upon a treasure in the Bible, in an obscure book that I had not paid too much attention to. Zephaniah. A prophet. A short 3 chapter treasure nestled between Habbakuk and Haggai.
In the many, many verses in the Bible regarding singing, especially in the Psalms, the singing is a personal or corporate response to God's love. But, in this book of Zephaniah, is a verse that I will be memorizing. It speaks of God's abiding love for me. And it tells me that HE is singing over me. Me! My Creator is singing over me!
The Lord your God is in your midst.
(He is with me- Emmanuel)
The Mighty One will save
(He is my Saviour)
He will rejoice over you with gladness.
(What an affirmation)
He will quiet you with His love.
(Abiding peace)
He will rejoice over you with singing.
(I am rejoiced over. And sung over.)
Zephaniah 3:17
What a difference a day, and a verse, can make. I'm not worried today. I know that My God is rejoicing over me with gladness, quieting me with love, and rejoicing over me with singing. No one on earth can top that.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Just Another Day
I thought I should wait until after the results came back, and then, if need be, let people know.
"I think," My Sweetheart said, "that you should tell people now and then they can be praying for you."
And so I did. And so I am.
Last week I went to the doctor. He examined what I went for. And on Tues I had a biopsy.
"This might hurt a little," my doctor said. Good thing I was forewarned. I wish I would have been knocked out. I'm glad it hurt a little. I shudder to think of what it would have been like if it would have hurt a lot. I'm glad My Sweetheart was with me. Squeezing his hand while the needle with the freezing was going in was somewhat comforting. Having him hand me my water bottle while the cutting and tugging and removing was going on was appreciated too.
Earlier this year I went to the doctor when a suspicious looking 'thing' appeared out of nowhere. I watched it grow from a pimply looking thing to a somewhat ugly thing; then I knew I better make an appointment. My doctor examined it and then set up a mammogram.
Those cartoons about mammograms are funny until a person has one. I likened the procedure to having a part of me squeeze through a wringer washer. I almost fainted. Truly. The technician, who was very friendly, brought me a chair. And a glass of water. She was probably thinking she should have brought the anasthesiologist while she was at it. Next time.
Anyway, some time later, the clinic phoned me with the good news. Nothing abnormal showed up with the mammogram. Great news actually!
But the 'thing' never quite went away. There was never a lump either. Just this ugly thing.
A few weeks ago another one appeared.
My doctor is hoping to rule out Paget's Disease, which until this all happened, I had never heard of. From what I've read about it, it is a rare breast cancer. I read it doesn't show up on mammograms. I read that it is often misdiagnosed because it seems to clear up. Everything I've read is a little disconcerting to me.
I told My Sweetheart, the other night while I was debating about keeping mum or going public, that "OK - I will tell about what I'm going through for 2 reasons - 1. to inform other women about this potential rare cancer and 2. to share my faith journey and trust in the Lord through this- no matter what the outcome."
I know that the Lord is already there- in the future- when the results come back. I take great comfort in knowing that He is with me through this time of uncertainty. And I know that, no matter what, He will use this for His glory. This isn't a surprise to Him. So I will try not to worry, even though the not knowing is difficult. But I am going to try and replace this worry, which focuses on me, with trust in the Lord, which will transfer that focus to Him. And that is much better.
"I think," My Sweetheart said, "that you should tell people now and then they can be praying for you."
And so I did. And so I am.
Last week I went to the doctor. He examined what I went for. And on Tues I had a biopsy.
"This might hurt a little," my doctor said. Good thing I was forewarned. I wish I would have been knocked out. I'm glad it hurt a little. I shudder to think of what it would have been like if it would have hurt a lot. I'm glad My Sweetheart was with me. Squeezing his hand while the needle with the freezing was going in was somewhat comforting. Having him hand me my water bottle while the cutting and tugging and removing was going on was appreciated too.
Earlier this year I went to the doctor when a suspicious looking 'thing' appeared out of nowhere. I watched it grow from a pimply looking thing to a somewhat ugly thing; then I knew I better make an appointment. My doctor examined it and then set up a mammogram.
Those cartoons about mammograms are funny until a person has one. I likened the procedure to having a part of me squeeze through a wringer washer. I almost fainted. Truly. The technician, who was very friendly, brought me a chair. And a glass of water. She was probably thinking she should have brought the anasthesiologist while she was at it. Next time.
Anyway, some time later, the clinic phoned me with the good news. Nothing abnormal showed up with the mammogram. Great news actually!
But the 'thing' never quite went away. There was never a lump either. Just this ugly thing.
A few weeks ago another one appeared.
My doctor is hoping to rule out Paget's Disease, which until this all happened, I had never heard of. From what I've read about it, it is a rare breast cancer. I read it doesn't show up on mammograms. I read that it is often misdiagnosed because it seems to clear up. Everything I've read is a little disconcerting to me.
I told My Sweetheart, the other night while I was debating about keeping mum or going public, that "OK - I will tell about what I'm going through for 2 reasons - 1. to inform other women about this potential rare cancer and 2. to share my faith journey and trust in the Lord through this- no matter what the outcome."
I know that the Lord is already there- in the future- when the results come back. I take great comfort in knowing that He is with me through this time of uncertainty. And I know that, no matter what, He will use this for His glory. This isn't a surprise to Him. So I will try not to worry, even though the not knowing is difficult. But I am going to try and replace this worry, which focuses on me, with trust in the Lord, which will transfer that focus to Him. And that is much better.
Monday, July 22, 2013
LadyBug
Almost three years ago we took Lady, our Golden Retriever, to the vet. She showed me (Lady that is) a lump. Honestly. Lady communicates with me in a strange bizarre way. She will give me a certain look with her eyes, then twist her body around until I notice something that is bothering her. So, almost three years ago, she gave me 'that look', and laid on her back and wriggled around, until I noticed it. As soon as I did I said, 'Oh, Lady- I see it.' Then she went back to what she was doing, I phoned the vet, made an appointment, and we were off. We booked 'the' appointment for Bentley at the same time. "The" appointment that boy dogs might not particularly be thrilled to go to if they know what's going to happen.
The vet checked Lady over, examined the lump, and determined that it was probably cancer. It wasn't a very big lump, but since Bentley was going to be 'out of it' for a time while he had his little procedure, the vet would remove Lady's lump too. My Sweetheart and I had a day to go shopping while the dogs were having their procedures done.
When we returned to pick them up and take them home, Bentley surprised us by leaping and bounding and smiling. We were amused by his antics, especially considering that he had just been neutered. I guess he didn't know. And, I guess, the drugs hadn't worn off.
Lady, on the other hand, wasn't faring too well. She bled quite a bit. And the bleeding didn't want to stop - even with stitches. Her breed, the vet told us, sometimes runs into that problem. The blood doesn't clot like it should. Anyway, the bleeding stopped and we loaded her, gingerly and tenderly, into the back seat beside her goofy, young 'brother-type' Bentley.
We got about half hour away from the vets, when I checked on her, and her wound was bleeding again. After a quick phone call, we were on the way back to the vet. We were relieved when they said they'd keep her overnight to make sure all was well.
Lady would be, we were told, living on borrowed time. The cancer would undoubtedly spread, in time, maybe quickly. We decided to make her days special. Those days turned into months. And then a year. And another year.
The tumours came. The cancer spread, and is now spreading too fast for our liking. It started with a tumour in her eye. Then her nipples. Now she has a very big one on her belly. It is ugly. And it is slowing her down. My Sweetheart and I noticed that she was really slowing down the other night when we took the dogs, Lady, Bentley and Chico, for a walk. Every time, up until that night, that we had taken them for walks, the 2 big dogs would take off ahead of us. They would run, explore, sniff, roll around, play with each other, run back to us for pets, run ahead again, and keep on. But not the other night. When we got to as far south as we were going to walk, we turned around. Lady was so far behind. And shortly after that is when we noticed the huge ugly tumour on her belly. It had to have been bothering her so much then. She just didn't tell me about it. Maybe she just wanted to sneak another walk in without worrying me.
Tonight, when I came home after taking My Mom to her home after a supper of fresh garden potatoes, maple glazed salmon, Caesar salad, and Saskatoon berry pie followed by 2 games of buy-rummy- Lady didn't move. She was on the front step, just laying there. Her tail wagged. But she didn't lift her head. I walked up the steps and gave her a pat. She gave me her look. And tonight that look told me that she was hurting. So I brought her in the house. I gave her extra food- extra soft food that is. She ate it and that made me happy. I'm glad she's still eating. She has tumours in her mouth too, so I fear that one of these days she will be unable to eat. After she finished eating she came and sat beside me while I was at my laptop. She had a hard time sitting because of where her big ugly tumour is. But she sat so that her eyes were closer to my eyes. And she just looked at me. And I looked at her. And I gave her extra pets. And extra hugs. And I asked her about her day. Then I told her that I knew that she was hurting. She just sat there, soaking up the attention, soaking up the love. I talked to her with tears in my eyes. She knows that I know. And I hope she knows that she is loved.
The vet checked Lady over, examined the lump, and determined that it was probably cancer. It wasn't a very big lump, but since Bentley was going to be 'out of it' for a time while he had his little procedure, the vet would remove Lady's lump too. My Sweetheart and I had a day to go shopping while the dogs were having their procedures done.
When we returned to pick them up and take them home, Bentley surprised us by leaping and bounding and smiling. We were amused by his antics, especially considering that he had just been neutered. I guess he didn't know. And, I guess, the drugs hadn't worn off.
Lady, on the other hand, wasn't faring too well. She bled quite a bit. And the bleeding didn't want to stop - even with stitches. Her breed, the vet told us, sometimes runs into that problem. The blood doesn't clot like it should. Anyway, the bleeding stopped and we loaded her, gingerly and tenderly, into the back seat beside her goofy, young 'brother-type' Bentley.
We got about half hour away from the vets, when I checked on her, and her wound was bleeding again. After a quick phone call, we were on the way back to the vet. We were relieved when they said they'd keep her overnight to make sure all was well.
Lady would be, we were told, living on borrowed time. The cancer would undoubtedly spread, in time, maybe quickly. We decided to make her days special. Those days turned into months. And then a year. And another year.
The tumours came. The cancer spread, and is now spreading too fast for our liking. It started with a tumour in her eye. Then her nipples. Now she has a very big one on her belly. It is ugly. And it is slowing her down. My Sweetheart and I noticed that she was really slowing down the other night when we took the dogs, Lady, Bentley and Chico, for a walk. Every time, up until that night, that we had taken them for walks, the 2 big dogs would take off ahead of us. They would run, explore, sniff, roll around, play with each other, run back to us for pets, run ahead again, and keep on. But not the other night. When we got to as far south as we were going to walk, we turned around. Lady was so far behind. And shortly after that is when we noticed the huge ugly tumour on her belly. It had to have been bothering her so much then. She just didn't tell me about it. Maybe she just wanted to sneak another walk in without worrying me.
Tonight, when I came home after taking My Mom to her home after a supper of fresh garden potatoes, maple glazed salmon, Caesar salad, and Saskatoon berry pie followed by 2 games of buy-rummy- Lady didn't move. She was on the front step, just laying there. Her tail wagged. But she didn't lift her head. I walked up the steps and gave her a pat. She gave me her look. And tonight that look told me that she was hurting. So I brought her in the house. I gave her extra food- extra soft food that is. She ate it and that made me happy. I'm glad she's still eating. She has tumours in her mouth too, so I fear that one of these days she will be unable to eat. After she finished eating she came and sat beside me while I was at my laptop. She had a hard time sitting because of where her big ugly tumour is. But she sat so that her eyes were closer to my eyes. And she just looked at me. And I looked at her. And I gave her extra pets. And extra hugs. And I asked her about her day. Then I told her that I knew that she was hurting. She just sat there, soaking up the attention, soaking up the love. I talked to her with tears in my eyes. She knows that I know. And I hope she knows that she is loved.
Monday, July 8, 2013
The Break
One week ago, almost exactly to the minute, we had set up camp at beautiful Johnston Canyon campgrounds, across from Johnston Canyon- near Banff.
The scenery was breathtaking. And the smell of fresh clean mountain air was lovely. The heat was stifling.
And we, My Sweetheart, DD, DS and myself were camping at a 'no service' campground. "The campfire," My Sweetheart claimed, "would be worth the trade off."
We were, for all intents and purposes, roughing it. I hadn't roughed it since I was a little girl camping with Dad, Mom, by Blue Suede Brother, and my Other Brother. But for My Sweetheart and DS, I would relent. Because of love.
For 3 nights we lived as pioneers: cooking over campstoves, strumming on guitars, listening to coyotes, huddled under tarps as rain poured down and thunder cracked and lightning rolled.
OK. I'll admit it. It wasn't like that at all. It was kind of strange, in a sense, to be at a 'no service' campground and still be able to take advantage of modern technology. We had our cell phones, and we charged them in the 5th wheel thanks to the solar panels that My Sweetheart had brought along. His, My Sweetheart's laptop, came out in the evening, powered by his personal hotspot on his cell phone. So during our hiatus from the outside trappings, we were looking at cruises, dreaming of winter vacations, checking emails. Weird, I know.
There were no rainstorms or thunderstorms. Guitars weren't being played. But memories were being made. Possibly a memory of a last family camping trip. Who knows? The Lord knows. From our point of view it doesn't look like we'll be taking a family camping trip again, but maybe we will.
Games were played. Reminiscing took place over the campfire. This mama was busy storing up memories in her heart. Bentley was busy cooling off in the Bow River that ran close to our site. My Sweetheart and DS enjoyed the ruggedness of the mountains. DD and I were longing for full service.
The break was good for us. We all needed the time to get away and relax. The Lord provided us with a beautiful venue to marvel at and enjoy. All is well.
The scenery was breathtaking. And the smell of fresh clean mountain air was lovely. The heat was stifling.
And we, My Sweetheart, DD, DS and myself were camping at a 'no service' campground. "The campfire," My Sweetheart claimed, "would be worth the trade off."
We were, for all intents and purposes, roughing it. I hadn't roughed it since I was a little girl camping with Dad, Mom, by Blue Suede Brother, and my Other Brother. But for My Sweetheart and DS, I would relent. Because of love.
For 3 nights we lived as pioneers: cooking over campstoves, strumming on guitars, listening to coyotes, huddled under tarps as rain poured down and thunder cracked and lightning rolled.
OK. I'll admit it. It wasn't like that at all. It was kind of strange, in a sense, to be at a 'no service' campground and still be able to take advantage of modern technology. We had our cell phones, and we charged them in the 5th wheel thanks to the solar panels that My Sweetheart had brought along. His, My Sweetheart's laptop, came out in the evening, powered by his personal hotspot on his cell phone. So during our hiatus from the outside trappings, we were looking at cruises, dreaming of winter vacations, checking emails. Weird, I know.
There were no rainstorms or thunderstorms. Guitars weren't being played. But memories were being made. Possibly a memory of a last family camping trip. Who knows? The Lord knows. From our point of view it doesn't look like we'll be taking a family camping trip again, but maybe we will.
Games were played. Reminiscing took place over the campfire. This mama was busy storing up memories in her heart. Bentley was busy cooling off in the Bow River that ran close to our site. My Sweetheart and DS enjoyed the ruggedness of the mountains. DD and I were longing for full service.
The break was good for us. We all needed the time to get away and relax. The Lord provided us with a beautiful venue to marvel at and enjoy. All is well.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Coming Home
Our relatives, on My Sweetheart's side of the family, were sitting around the tables on our deck the other night. It was a perfect evening- no wind, few bugs, the sun was shining, and the sound of laughter was resounding. It was the perfect ending to an almost perfect wedding weekend. My Sweetheart's niece was married on Saturday. The wedding was close to home- at the Saskatchewan Landing. The day turned out to be lovely. We were watching an ominous cloud while we were driving to the venue. Thankfully, the cloud stayed away. You see, we were a little on edge because of the wild weather that plagued Alberta mere hours before. Four of our relatives were stranded in Canmore during the flood. They missed the wedding, but fortunately made it to this neck of the woods a few days later. And they, along with my dear sisters in law, niece, brother in law, and my own dear family, were sitting outside on the deck the other night.
The barbecued supper was finished. But the conversation wasn't. We caught up on happenings since the previous year when the same relatives had made the trek here for the hometown centennial. And we made plans for next summer when My Sweetheart's Dad will turn 90. The Lord willing, we will be gathering then to celebrate my father in law.
It struck me, while we were sitting around the tables, that everyone here that night, with the exception of the spouses who had married into the family, lived on this farm. My Sweetheart's almost 89 year old father, my sisters in law, aunts and uncles, and even DS and DD, all grew up on this little plot of land. They all came 'home'. And I'm so glad they did.
The barbecued supper was finished. But the conversation wasn't. We caught up on happenings since the previous year when the same relatives had made the trek here for the hometown centennial. And we made plans for next summer when My Sweetheart's Dad will turn 90. The Lord willing, we will be gathering then to celebrate my father in law.
It struck me, while we were sitting around the tables, that everyone here that night, with the exception of the spouses who had married into the family, lived on this farm. My Sweetheart's almost 89 year old father, my sisters in law, aunts and uncles, and even DS and DD, all grew up on this little plot of land. They all came 'home'. And I'm so glad they did.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Techno Geek Mom
Earlier today, after DD and DS got home from school, (after DS's 2nd last day of high school), I decided that I better order those grad thank you cards and family portraits while we still looked the same.
We finally had a family portrait taken. Finally. After almost 20 years as a family. It was time. And to celebrate I'm getting it enlarged to a 20 by 30 size. It will hang on my wall behind the baby grand. That means the other pictures will have to come down; much to DD's delight and my non-delight. Their portraits have hung in that spot for years; DD with her shoulder length brown hair, baby teeth, green plaid dress with the Peter Pan collar and DS with his Bugs Bunny-ish big new front teeth and the glasses he wore to kindergarten. He was wearing a vest and tie. Along with those pictures I hung the recent individual sepia school pictures. I replaced DS's glasses and bugs bunny teeth picture a month ago with his formal cap and gown, minus the cap. It will have to come down now too. Sigh. That means I will need to find a new place to hang those treasured keepsake pictures. The hallway will likely be the new home.
And all this will happen, of course, only if I ordered the new portraits correctly. I might not have. I have the printed confirmation receipt telling me that I did; but I won't believe it until I have them in my hands.
I panicked earlier today, after DD and DS arrived home from school. It had taken me a while to get up the nerve to order portraits online- especially after it had taken me a while to download or upload or whatever it was that I had to do to get them from the disk on to my laptop.
Then, after I had picked out the poses, and everything that went with that, a note popped up on my screen. I had, apparently already used that email address on a previous order. I couldn't remember doing that. What? What do I do now?
"Relax Mom," I was told, "just get a new email account."
That had me buffaloed. "Why would I want to do that?" "I already have an email account."
"Mom, - you don't need to USE the new one..."
Oh....
So, I signed up, if that's what one does, for a new email account. Not happily either. Then I hopefully filled out everything correctly.
If you want to see that family portrait, you can see it on my profile page. That's the one we picked out. That's how our family looks now- techno geek Mom and all!
We finally had a family portrait taken. Finally. After almost 20 years as a family. It was time. And to celebrate I'm getting it enlarged to a 20 by 30 size. It will hang on my wall behind the baby grand. That means the other pictures will have to come down; much to DD's delight and my non-delight. Their portraits have hung in that spot for years; DD with her shoulder length brown hair, baby teeth, green plaid dress with the Peter Pan collar and DS with his Bugs Bunny-ish big new front teeth and the glasses he wore to kindergarten. He was wearing a vest and tie. Along with those pictures I hung the recent individual sepia school pictures. I replaced DS's glasses and bugs bunny teeth picture a month ago with his formal cap and gown, minus the cap. It will have to come down now too. Sigh. That means I will need to find a new place to hang those treasured keepsake pictures. The hallway will likely be the new home.
And all this will happen, of course, only if I ordered the new portraits correctly. I might not have. I have the printed confirmation receipt telling me that I did; but I won't believe it until I have them in my hands.
I panicked earlier today, after DD and DS arrived home from school. It had taken me a while to get up the nerve to order portraits online- especially after it had taken me a while to download or upload or whatever it was that I had to do to get them from the disk on to my laptop.
Then, after I had picked out the poses, and everything that went with that, a note popped up on my screen. I had, apparently already used that email address on a previous order. I couldn't remember doing that. What? What do I do now?
"Relax Mom," I was told, "just get a new email account."
That had me buffaloed. "Why would I want to do that?" "I already have an email account."
"Mom, - you don't need to USE the new one..."
Oh....
So, I signed up, if that's what one does, for a new email account. Not happily either. Then I hopefully filled out everything correctly.
If you want to see that family portrait, you can see it on my profile page. That's the one we picked out. That's how our family looks now- techno geek Mom and all!
Saturday, June 15, 2013
The Best Father
My Dad, who has been living gloriously now for 16 years in 'human' time, was a wonderful father.
He was patient. Perhaps patience was part and parcel of being a farmer. He knew he had no control over many aspects of farming, and so left it, maybe unknowingly, in the Lord's very capable hands.
My Dad was introspective. He was humble. He was a hard worker. He was from the generation that, although didn't express it verbally, loved greatly. I always knew I was loved, but rarely heard it. I remember one time, when I was probably around 13 or 14, I was so upset because Dad would not verbalize his love for me. I was crying in my bedroom. He eventually came in. I don't remember if Mom sent him in, or if he came in of his own accord. Likely not the latter. But I questioned him. I asked him, "Do you love me?" He said, 'Yes.' I said, "well say it then. Tell me you love me." And he did. He said, "I love you." I always knew it; I guess I needed to hear it. What a blessing that was. I feel so sorry for people who grow up never hearing a father's blessing. No wonder it was such a big thing in the Old Testament. Blessings.
DD and DS have a wonderful father too. Some may think I'm biased. But I'm not. My Sweetheart is a devoted, hands-on dad. DD and DS have no doubt about their father's love. And he has verbalized that love many times. Probably daily. I'm blessed to be in this parenting team.
I realize that some of you who are reading this might have grown up without knowing your father's love. My heart grieves for you. But I want to share you about the BEST Father's love you can know. And that is the love of God. The God who loves you so much that He sent His Son Jesus, no- He GAVE His Son that whosoever - YOU- loves Him will not perish but have everlasting love. His love is not condemning, but a saving love. Simply put- that is salvation! Putting your trust and faith in Jesus will save you from eternal death.
A favorite verse of mine, that I hope will encourage you if you have put your faith and trust in Jesus, is found in Romans 8. The Message translation says:
"this resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who He is, and we know who we are: Father and children." (verses 15 & 16)
Did you get that? Did you hear "papa"? Jesus calls His Father "Abba" - Daddy! We can too. God has adopted us into His family if we accept the gift of Jesus that He so wants us to! He longs to be your Heavenly Father. His love for you is greater than any love. He is THE BEST FATHER!
He was patient. Perhaps patience was part and parcel of being a farmer. He knew he had no control over many aspects of farming, and so left it, maybe unknowingly, in the Lord's very capable hands.
My Dad was introspective. He was humble. He was a hard worker. He was from the generation that, although didn't express it verbally, loved greatly. I always knew I was loved, but rarely heard it. I remember one time, when I was probably around 13 or 14, I was so upset because Dad would not verbalize his love for me. I was crying in my bedroom. He eventually came in. I don't remember if Mom sent him in, or if he came in of his own accord. Likely not the latter. But I questioned him. I asked him, "Do you love me?" He said, 'Yes.' I said, "well say it then. Tell me you love me." And he did. He said, "I love you." I always knew it; I guess I needed to hear it. What a blessing that was. I feel so sorry for people who grow up never hearing a father's blessing. No wonder it was such a big thing in the Old Testament. Blessings.
DD and DS have a wonderful father too. Some may think I'm biased. But I'm not. My Sweetheart is a devoted, hands-on dad. DD and DS have no doubt about their father's love. And he has verbalized that love many times. Probably daily. I'm blessed to be in this parenting team.
I realize that some of you who are reading this might have grown up without knowing your father's love. My heart grieves for you. But I want to share you about the BEST Father's love you can know. And that is the love of God. The God who loves you so much that He sent His Son Jesus, no- He GAVE His Son that whosoever - YOU- loves Him will not perish but have everlasting love. His love is not condemning, but a saving love. Simply put- that is salvation! Putting your trust and faith in Jesus will save you from eternal death.
A favorite verse of mine, that I hope will encourage you if you have put your faith and trust in Jesus, is found in Romans 8. The Message translation says:
"this resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who He is, and we know who we are: Father and children." (verses 15 & 16)
Did you get that? Did you hear "papa"? Jesus calls His Father "Abba" - Daddy! We can too. God has adopted us into His family if we accept the gift of Jesus that He so wants us to! He longs to be your Heavenly Father. His love for you is greater than any love. He is THE BEST FATHER!
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Power
My Sweetheart was spraying when I got home from the city yesterday. He was spraying the lentils for weeds. A necessary evil I guess. We don't want the weeds. But we don't want the chemicals from the spray either. So he sprays. When he sprays he needs to have a water source handy. We are blessed to have water right here on the yard site. We have a water bin- it looks just like a bin that we store grain in, but the water bin has a conversion kit that makes it possible to have water put in- at the flip of a switch. And we need power for it all to work.
He had just finished filling up the sprayer, and I had just decided what I was going to make for supper, when the power guy came up to the house and said, "You'll have no power for about 2 hours."
My first thought was, "Yippee- dinner out!"
My second thought, and the thought that won out was, "Salmon sandwich supper..." A far cry from the 'yippee' thought.
I quickly grabbed the vacuum with the remaining "power- on" time- about 10 minutes to shape these farm floors up; and I yelled out to My Sweetheart to "hurry up and come in and have a shower before the power goes out and we have no water pressure!"
I was hurrying him up simply because last night was Awards Night at the school, and I wanted My Sweetheart to smell sweet and look as handsome as ever for the event.
So in the 10 or so minutes that we still had power I hurriedly vacuumed and he quickly showered. Poor DS though- he was going to jump in the shower at the exact moment the house went dark. He had a back up plan though and pretty soon he was on his way to Grandma's house for his shower.
Shortly after our salmon sandwich supper the power came back on! The power guys were putting in a new line to some of us "rural" customers and for the past week or so we had been inconvienced numerous times by having our power turned off, unexpectedly for up to 3 hours at a time. But now it's all done! We should be good!
When they had finished 'switching us over' last night they took down the power pole that had been in the middle of this yard for 60 years. Right in the middle. As farming got bigger and machinery and grain bins got bigger, it became more and more difficult to manouever combines, and tractors, and trucks around the power pole. But now it's gone and the yard has opened up!
It must have been so exciting 60 years ago for my in-laws to have power. The ice chest that had been a wedding gift for them 64 years ago would have been replaced by a refrigerator. Lanterns would have been replaced by light switches. The clothes line made way for a clothes dryer. Life was made simpler by the marvel of power.
Much in the same way that my life is made richer by the power of prayer. Every morning I tap into the Source of the Power that gets me through each day. Jesus says, "abide in me..." I abide in Him by reading His word and praying. As simple as that. My prayer for you, dear reader, is that you will welcome Jesus into your life and make HIM your power source. He WILL provide you with what you need for today.
He had just finished filling up the sprayer, and I had just decided what I was going to make for supper, when the power guy came up to the house and said, "You'll have no power for about 2 hours."
My first thought was, "Yippee- dinner out!"
My second thought, and the thought that won out was, "Salmon sandwich supper..." A far cry from the 'yippee' thought.
I quickly grabbed the vacuum with the remaining "power- on" time- about 10 minutes to shape these farm floors up; and I yelled out to My Sweetheart to "hurry up and come in and have a shower before the power goes out and we have no water pressure!"
I was hurrying him up simply because last night was Awards Night at the school, and I wanted My Sweetheart to smell sweet and look as handsome as ever for the event.
So in the 10 or so minutes that we still had power I hurriedly vacuumed and he quickly showered. Poor DS though- he was going to jump in the shower at the exact moment the house went dark. He had a back up plan though and pretty soon he was on his way to Grandma's house for his shower.
Shortly after our salmon sandwich supper the power came back on! The power guys were putting in a new line to some of us "rural" customers and for the past week or so we had been inconvienced numerous times by having our power turned off, unexpectedly for up to 3 hours at a time. But now it's all done! We should be good!
When they had finished 'switching us over' last night they took down the power pole that had been in the middle of this yard for 60 years. Right in the middle. As farming got bigger and machinery and grain bins got bigger, it became more and more difficult to manouever combines, and tractors, and trucks around the power pole. But now it's gone and the yard has opened up!
It must have been so exciting 60 years ago for my in-laws to have power. The ice chest that had been a wedding gift for them 64 years ago would have been replaced by a refrigerator. Lanterns would have been replaced by light switches. The clothes line made way for a clothes dryer. Life was made simpler by the marvel of power.
Much in the same way that my life is made richer by the power of prayer. Every morning I tap into the Source of the Power that gets me through each day. Jesus says, "abide in me..." I abide in Him by reading His word and praying. As simple as that. My prayer for you, dear reader, is that you will welcome Jesus into your life and make HIM your power source. He WILL provide you with what you need for today.
Monday, June 10, 2013
This is the Day
It's been a while since I've written anything on my blog. I determined that I would wait, since my last blog, until I had something meaningful to say. Or something that is encouraging at least.
This past week has been difficult and good.
Bitter and sweet.
Beautiful and ugly.
But through each day, mostly each very teary day, I have experienced God's goodness. His miracles. His mercies that are new. Every morning.
I have been diligent in spending at least a half hour every morning in the precious Word of God. I've been soaking up His very powerful Word. I've been blessed. Beyond measure. And I have needed that quiet time with the Lord.
My friend died a week ago. She was exactly 8 days older than me. We became friends after she joined the Friends in Faith Chorus. She was a very faithful, fun, diligent member of the chorus. And, she kept our refrigerator stocked with farm fresh eggs. Sometimes I would pop over to her place for the eggs and have a cup of tea with her in her inviting, welcoming kitchen, but most of the time she would drop the eggs off at our place on her way to town. Or she would have her husband drop the eggs off. Either way, be it him or her, we'd have a visit. Quite likely, when she was on her way to town, it would be to lend a helping hand to someone. She was like the hands of Jesus to so many people. She was an encourager.
Her funeral was on Friday. The hall was packed. She was loved by so many people.
When we got home on Friday, after the service, we decided to go to the City with DD and DS. DD's ring, that she had ordered with her well deserved tip money, was in at the jewellery store. It was a perfect excuse to head to the city and go out for supper - An "I'm finished the spraying down south" celebration supper, according to My Sweetheart. It was a quick trip there and back. When we got back home I quickly checked my emails and I very sadly opened up an email from a dear friend from my Bible College days informing me of the date and time of her son's funeral. He was the same age as DS. The tears came. Again. I thought I was all cried out when my friend died. But I wasn't. I cried for my friend's loss and her sadness. DS came upstairs and held me as I cried on his shoulder. That made me cry even harder. Here I was, crying on the shoulder of my beloved 18 year old, and my friend would be burying her 18 year old today.
Yesterday, after church, when I was reflecting on my week, I also reflected on God's love for me. And for my friends who were going through such sad times. I also was reflecting on the time, the wonderful time, spent at church. The sermon was so 'right' for where everyone was. Jesus is alive. We have hope.
I wrote a song yesterday afternoon. I had started it a year ago. The chorus was waiting for verses. The verses needed this past week to happen before they could be written.
I want to share the lyrics with you. My prayer is that you will be encouraged by them, whether you are celebrating or whether you are going through a hard time. Life is hard at times, but God is always good. Always.
This past week has been difficult and good.
Bitter and sweet.
Beautiful and ugly.
But through each day, mostly each very teary day, I have experienced God's goodness. His miracles. His mercies that are new. Every morning.
I have been diligent in spending at least a half hour every morning in the precious Word of God. I've been soaking up His very powerful Word. I've been blessed. Beyond measure. And I have needed that quiet time with the Lord.
My friend died a week ago. She was exactly 8 days older than me. We became friends after she joined the Friends in Faith Chorus. She was a very faithful, fun, diligent member of the chorus. And, she kept our refrigerator stocked with farm fresh eggs. Sometimes I would pop over to her place for the eggs and have a cup of tea with her in her inviting, welcoming kitchen, but most of the time she would drop the eggs off at our place on her way to town. Or she would have her husband drop the eggs off. Either way, be it him or her, we'd have a visit. Quite likely, when she was on her way to town, it would be to lend a helping hand to someone. She was like the hands of Jesus to so many people. She was an encourager.
Her funeral was on Friday. The hall was packed. She was loved by so many people.
When we got home on Friday, after the service, we decided to go to the City with DD and DS. DD's ring, that she had ordered with her well deserved tip money, was in at the jewellery store. It was a perfect excuse to head to the city and go out for supper - An "I'm finished the spraying down south" celebration supper, according to My Sweetheart. It was a quick trip there and back. When we got back home I quickly checked my emails and I very sadly opened up an email from a dear friend from my Bible College days informing me of the date and time of her son's funeral. He was the same age as DS. The tears came. Again. I thought I was all cried out when my friend died. But I wasn't. I cried for my friend's loss and her sadness. DS came upstairs and held me as I cried on his shoulder. That made me cry even harder. Here I was, crying on the shoulder of my beloved 18 year old, and my friend would be burying her 18 year old today.
Yesterday, after church, when I was reflecting on my week, I also reflected on God's love for me. And for my friends who were going through such sad times. I also was reflecting on the time, the wonderful time, spent at church. The sermon was so 'right' for where everyone was. Jesus is alive. We have hope.
I wrote a song yesterday afternoon. I had started it a year ago. The chorus was waiting for verses. The verses needed this past week to happen before they could be written.
I want to share the lyrics with you. My prayer is that you will be encouraged by them, whether you are celebrating or whether you are going through a hard time. Life is hard at times, but God is always good. Always.
This is the Day
copyright 2013 by Heather Arnelien
This, this, this is the day
that the Lord has made.
I will rejoice and say
this is the day that the Lord has made.
My neighbor is a good man
with farming in his blood,
I know his heart is aching
he just buried his true love,
he's holding to God's promise
that he'll see his love one day,
but until that great reunion
Jesus hears him say....
This, this, this is the day
that the Lord has made,
I will rejoice and say
this is the day the Lord has made.
She struggles up the stairs,
her steps are faltering,
she's faithful as she comes
to worship God and sing,
her family doesn't live here
but they came to church today.
As she held her new great grandson
I'm sure I heard her say...
This, this, this is the day
that the Lord has made,
I will rejoice and say
this is the day the Lord has made.
Through good times and in bad times,
through sunshine and the rain,
when hearts are overflowing
or when lives are full of pain...
This, this, this is the day
that the Lord has made,
I will rejoice and say
this is the day the Lord has made.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Circa 1966
DD wanted to go to the city. And it was a great day for a Friday drive after school. And she has her learner's license. So off to the city we went. My Sweetheart sat in the passenger seat. Driving with a child who has a learner's license is his job. I'm too high strung. Too nervous. He's the epitome of calm, cool, and collected in matters such as driving.
While at Wally's world we were perusing the dvd's and cd's - I saw something that made me do a double take. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Almost.
There, all by itself, in the cd area, was THE Elvis "how great thou art" CD. The cover was the exact same cover of the LP that had been in My Mom's collection years earlier. Years. Circa 1966. The cover with the face of Elvis in the front left corner, blue skies at the top, and a white church on the left hand side.
I was 2 when that album showed up in the old farmhouse. I was 2 when my Blue Suede Brother, and my Other Brother had been asked to sing in church. For some reason, likely my young age, I hadn't been asked to sing. And I was hurt. I had been snubbed for the first time in my life by the 'ask-ers'.
"If you can learn the words to the song," My Mom told me, "you can sing with the boys."
Out came the Elvis "How Great thou Art" album and the song 'In the Garden' was played over and over and over. I just realized, now in fact, that My Mom would have been the one lifting the needle up and back, over and over and over- just for me.
I remember when I knew the song. My Mom was downstairs in the scary, dark, damp basement - putting clothes in or taking clothes out of the dryer. I opened the basement door and yelled "I KNOW IT!!!!"
I remember singing it for her. And then I remember standing in front of Scandia Lutheran with my Blue Suede Brother and my Other Brother as we sang. We would have been standing youngest to oldest, looking like stair steps. The oldest almost 8, then 6, then- me. I was as happy as could be- singing with my brothers, encouraged by the congregation, and loved by my parents.
That song has been one I've sang many times throughout the 47 years since. Mostly at funerals.
But I didn't really understand the words of it until a few years ago. It was written, according to the songwriter, from the viewpoint of Jesus, while He was in the garden of Gethsemane- just before He was was arrested.
I come to the garden alone,
while the dew is still on the roses,
and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me
and He talks with me
and He tells me I am His Own
and the joy we share as we tarry there
none other has ever known.
Jesus was in that garden, alone, praying. He knew what was going to be happening. But He did it anyway- because of love.
He speaks and the sound of His voice
though the night around me be falling,
but He bids me go through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.
The voice of woe. How terrible and how lonely that voice must have been. But Jesus endured. He stayed and prayed with His Heavenly Father.
He listened.
He wept.
He loved.
He was betrayed.
He forgave.
He suffered.
He bled.
He died.
He conquered death.
He lives.
And now I can come to the garden - alone. I know He walks with me. I know He talks with me. I know He calls me His own.
Of course I bought that CD. I'll probably end up giving it to Mom- it was one of her favorite albums.
While at Wally's world we were perusing the dvd's and cd's - I saw something that made me do a double take. I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Almost.
There, all by itself, in the cd area, was THE Elvis "how great thou art" CD. The cover was the exact same cover of the LP that had been in My Mom's collection years earlier. Years. Circa 1966. The cover with the face of Elvis in the front left corner, blue skies at the top, and a white church on the left hand side.
I was 2 when that album showed up in the old farmhouse. I was 2 when my Blue Suede Brother, and my Other Brother had been asked to sing in church. For some reason, likely my young age, I hadn't been asked to sing. And I was hurt. I had been snubbed for the first time in my life by the 'ask-ers'.
"If you can learn the words to the song," My Mom told me, "you can sing with the boys."
Out came the Elvis "How Great thou Art" album and the song 'In the Garden' was played over and over and over. I just realized, now in fact, that My Mom would have been the one lifting the needle up and back, over and over and over- just for me.
I remember when I knew the song. My Mom was downstairs in the scary, dark, damp basement - putting clothes in or taking clothes out of the dryer. I opened the basement door and yelled "I KNOW IT!!!!"
I remember singing it for her. And then I remember standing in front of Scandia Lutheran with my Blue Suede Brother and my Other Brother as we sang. We would have been standing youngest to oldest, looking like stair steps. The oldest almost 8, then 6, then- me. I was as happy as could be- singing with my brothers, encouraged by the congregation, and loved by my parents.
That song has been one I've sang many times throughout the 47 years since. Mostly at funerals.
But I didn't really understand the words of it until a few years ago. It was written, according to the songwriter, from the viewpoint of Jesus, while He was in the garden of Gethsemane- just before He was was arrested.
I come to the garden alone,
while the dew is still on the roses,
and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me
and He talks with me
and He tells me I am His Own
and the joy we share as we tarry there
none other has ever known.
Jesus was in that garden, alone, praying. He knew what was going to be happening. But He did it anyway- because of love.
He speaks and the sound of His voice
though the night around me be falling,
but He bids me go through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.
The voice of woe. How terrible and how lonely that voice must have been. But Jesus endured. He stayed and prayed with His Heavenly Father.
He listened.
He wept.
He loved.
He was betrayed.
He forgave.
He suffered.
He bled.
He died.
He conquered death.
He lives.
And now I can come to the garden - alone. I know He walks with me. I know He talks with me. I know He calls me His own.
Of course I bought that CD. I'll probably end up giving it to Mom- it was one of her favorite albums.
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Comfort Dogs
"My dogs," I said to a friend yesterday over coffee, "seem to know when I'm not feeling well. They will want to be as close to me as possible then." We had been talking about our pets and what great company they are. I was recalling how, just the previous week, while suffering a migraine, Chico wanted up on the bed with me. She curled her little body next to mine and slept. She only does that when I'm not feeling well.
I remembered watching a news program on tv, shortly after the Newtown tragedy. On that particular program 'comfort dogs' were featured. 5 or 6 Golden Retrievers, along with their handlers, had been dispatched to Newtown. Their job was simple - to comfort anyone who needed comfort. I, being a lover of Golden Retrievers, was in tears while watching. I was wondering, just yesterday, if the 'comfort dogs' would be dispatched to Boston. My answer came this morning, while watching the news, while on my eliptical. The 'comfort dogs' - the same ones that were in Conneticut a few months earlier, were sitting in front of a Lutheran Church in Boston- waiting to do their job; and in the meantime were getting lots of kisses and hugs from the news correspondent.
It was a touching segment. People are suffering. People need comfort. But what about those people who don't have access to 'comfort dogs'? What about those who are going through:
intense heartbreak..
immense sorrow...
extreme loneliness...
pain....
separation or divorce....
loneliness and longing...?
What about those who are:
misunderstood....
marginalized...
mocked....
beaten down....
lied about....?
What about the widows? The orphans? The shut-ins?
What about the people who seemingly have it all together on the outside, but inside are screaming to be loved?
We live in a world besot by evil. From the beginning, when God first created the world, evil entered. Evil, that threatens to destroy good and devour all that is right,is rampant. Evil manipulates and lies. Evil does not want good to flourish. That is why the world is in turmoil. That is why bombs go off at finish lines at marathons. That is why kids take guns to schools. That is why families disintigrate. That is why marriages crumble. That is why people sue each other. That is why churches split.
My Bible says "your enemy- your adversary- the devil - prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour..." 1 Peter 5:8
But it goes on to say, in verse 9 - "The suffering won't last forever. It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ- eternal and glorious plans they are! - will have you put together and on your feet for good. HE gets the last word."
If you're in need of comfort, look to God. He is a present help in times of trouble. He is always available- unlike comfort dogs. The way to God is through Jesus. Jesus conquered sin. He is alive. He loves you. He says, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father, but through Me." - John 14:6
Finally, be encouraged and comforted by these words - "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of all mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 2 Corinthians 1:4
I remembered watching a news program on tv, shortly after the Newtown tragedy. On that particular program 'comfort dogs' were featured. 5 or 6 Golden Retrievers, along with their handlers, had been dispatched to Newtown. Their job was simple - to comfort anyone who needed comfort. I, being a lover of Golden Retrievers, was in tears while watching. I was wondering, just yesterday, if the 'comfort dogs' would be dispatched to Boston. My answer came this morning, while watching the news, while on my eliptical. The 'comfort dogs' - the same ones that were in Conneticut a few months earlier, were sitting in front of a Lutheran Church in Boston- waiting to do their job; and in the meantime were getting lots of kisses and hugs from the news correspondent.
It was a touching segment. People are suffering. People need comfort. But what about those people who don't have access to 'comfort dogs'? What about those who are going through:
intense heartbreak..
immense sorrow...
extreme loneliness...
pain....
separation or divorce....
loneliness and longing...?
What about those who are:
misunderstood....
marginalized...
mocked....
beaten down....
lied about....?
What about the widows? The orphans? The shut-ins?
What about the people who seemingly have it all together on the outside, but inside are screaming to be loved?
We live in a world besot by evil. From the beginning, when God first created the world, evil entered. Evil, that threatens to destroy good and devour all that is right,is rampant. Evil manipulates and lies. Evil does not want good to flourish. That is why the world is in turmoil. That is why bombs go off at finish lines at marathons. That is why kids take guns to schools. That is why families disintigrate. That is why marriages crumble. That is why people sue each other. That is why churches split.
My Bible says "your enemy- your adversary- the devil - prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour..." 1 Peter 5:8
But it goes on to say, in verse 9 - "The suffering won't last forever. It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ- eternal and glorious plans they are! - will have you put together and on your feet for good. HE gets the last word."
If you're in need of comfort, look to God. He is a present help in times of trouble. He is always available- unlike comfort dogs. The way to God is through Jesus. Jesus conquered sin. He is alive. He loves you. He says, "I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father, but through Me." - John 14:6
Finally, be encouraged and comforted by these words - "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of all mercies and God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." 2 Corinthians 1:4
Friday, April 5, 2013
Friendliness Training
One out of three girls at the reception desk, at the eye doctor's, where I took My Mom today, was friendly. She greeted Mom with a smile, looked her in the eye when talking to her, and generally showed kindness. I liked her. And after she whisked Mom away for the myriad of things that needed to be done, I sat and waited and observed while pretending to feign interest in Woman's Day magazines. A lot of observing can transpire in 90 some minutes.
I observed two things, really, that stick out in my mind right now. One of them is that the elderly enjoy visiting. The other was that friendliness was lacking at the reception desk from the other girls- the 2 out of the 3 girls.
What flabbergasted me the most and still is making me cringe, hours after the fact, was the way 1 of the receptionists in particular was communicating, or not communicating, with an elderly patient that had made her way to the reception desk. The patient was using a walker and was obviously very hard of hearing. The receptionist didn't even make eye contact, not once, with the patient. I was watching the whole thing transpire. She seemed to be annoyed when she had to repeat herself. 'Seemed' might not even be the correct word. She was annoyed. Finally the rigamarole at the reception desk was completed and the patient sat down in the waiting room.
The other unfriendly receptionist dealt with Mom and I after My Mom's appointment. She had to deal with me because I am Mom's driver. Mom sets her appointment dates in consultation with me in order to make sure I am available for driving. The first date didn't work for me. It was for the beginning of July. That seemed to annoy the receptionist. The second date didn't work either. "When," she said in a condescending way, "do you plan on being able to bring her?" "Well," replied myself, "I'm not exactly sure when we'll be back from our camping trip...."
At that point I think I saw her eyeballs roll. I thought maybe I should have called her boss to the front to see if he could do anything about rolling eyeballs, but then thought better of it. So I smiled. And said "we should be back by the middle of July."
Then Mom and I left and went shoe shopping. I bought 2 pairs of shoes from the saleslady because she was so friendly. Some people could take friendliness training from her.
I observed two things, really, that stick out in my mind right now. One of them is that the elderly enjoy visiting. The other was that friendliness was lacking at the reception desk from the other girls- the 2 out of the 3 girls.
What flabbergasted me the most and still is making me cringe, hours after the fact, was the way 1 of the receptionists in particular was communicating, or not communicating, with an elderly patient that had made her way to the reception desk. The patient was using a walker and was obviously very hard of hearing. The receptionist didn't even make eye contact, not once, with the patient. I was watching the whole thing transpire. She seemed to be annoyed when she had to repeat herself. 'Seemed' might not even be the correct word. She was annoyed. Finally the rigamarole at the reception desk was completed and the patient sat down in the waiting room.
The other unfriendly receptionist dealt with Mom and I after My Mom's appointment. She had to deal with me because I am Mom's driver. Mom sets her appointment dates in consultation with me in order to make sure I am available for driving. The first date didn't work for me. It was for the beginning of July. That seemed to annoy the receptionist. The second date didn't work either. "When," she said in a condescending way, "do you plan on being able to bring her?" "Well," replied myself, "I'm not exactly sure when we'll be back from our camping trip...."
At that point I think I saw her eyeballs roll. I thought maybe I should have called her boss to the front to see if he could do anything about rolling eyeballs, but then thought better of it. So I smiled. And said "we should be back by the middle of July."
Then Mom and I left and went shoe shopping. I bought 2 pairs of shoes from the saleslady because she was so friendly. Some people could take friendliness training from her.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Still in My Jammies
Today is Easter Sunday. It's 11:02 in the morning right now as I'm sitting at my laptop. The cranberries are cooked, the turkey is roasting, the dessert is in the fridge, the potatoes are ready to go in the oven, the turnip has been cooked and just needs to be re-heated. My mom is bringing the jelly salad, and Phyllis is bringing the other salad. The house has been cleaned. The dishwasher is running. The Easter Sunday church service that was on TV is over. And I am still in my jammies. Smiling.
I'm smiling, while still sitting in my jammies, because all that I mentioned in the previous paragraph is complete.
I'm smiling because everything that needs to be done before our evening meal is done. Everything important anyway.
I'm smiling because everyone we love is safe, and alive! I'm rejoicing over that fact actually. Some people know why.
I'm smiling because I have great friends. One of those great friends texted me yesterday to meet in the city for coffee. Friends I haven't seen for years were 'home' for Easter. Other friends gathered. We fellowshipped, laughed, reminisced, caught up with each other's lives.
I'm smiling because today is Easter. And with that knowledge is hope. Eternal hope. Present peace. Forgiveness. Mercy. Joy. Resurrection. Renewal. Transformation. And love. God's Love. Perfect love. "But God demonstrated His love for us- while we were still sinners Christ died for us..." Romans 5:8
Death could not keep Him. Death was not victorious. And I am still smiling. And still in my jammies.
I'm smiling, while still sitting in my jammies, because all that I mentioned in the previous paragraph is complete.
I'm smiling because everything that needs to be done before our evening meal is done. Everything important anyway.
I'm smiling because everyone we love is safe, and alive! I'm rejoicing over that fact actually. Some people know why.
I'm smiling because I have great friends. One of those great friends texted me yesterday to meet in the city for coffee. Friends I haven't seen for years were 'home' for Easter. Other friends gathered. We fellowshipped, laughed, reminisced, caught up with each other's lives.
I'm smiling because today is Easter. And with that knowledge is hope. Eternal hope. Present peace. Forgiveness. Mercy. Joy. Resurrection. Renewal. Transformation. And love. God's Love. Perfect love. "But God demonstrated His love for us- while we were still sinners Christ died for us..." Romans 5:8
Death could not keep Him. Death was not victorious. And I am still smiling. And still in my jammies.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Purple Sparkles
While DD went for dinner with a friend last night, My Sweetheart, DS and I went to the hockey game! The city team is in the playoffs and were playing on home ice last night.
DS had ordered the tickets the day before, and while he was in the lobby picking them up, I was looking at the people coming in. I noticed one particular little girl, about 3 or 4 years old. She had sparkly eyes and blonde hair. A real little charmer. And then I noticed her shoes. They were sparkly purple. I was wearing my faded black boots. Warm, but getting ugly as the winter drags on. My boots are faded and worn. But I wore them because I needed to keep my feet warm.
I wondered when I saw this little girl why her mother wouldn't insist that she wear warm boots. That's what I likely would have done with DD when she was little. She probably would have wanted to wear cute little shoes with little heels to hockey games and I would have likely said something like, "They're not practical. Your toes will get cold." Maybe that's why she doesn't like hockey games.
As I was contemplating and being curious I couldn't help but also wonder that maybe this little girl was there with her dad. He wouldn't care what was on her feet. If his little girl wanted to dress up as a princess with purple sparkly shoes, why not?
I smiled broadly to myself when the little girl's mom came and reached for her hand. Her mom was also wearing purple sparkly shoes. The little girl's close-in-age sister had them on too. Dad and older brother were with them. It was a family affair. I could imagine the little girls plotting with their mom before they went out. Maybe it was Mom's idea. It doesn't matter. They looked very happy. They were with the family.
Did they know, when they picked out their purple sparkly shoes, that purple, in the Scriptures, is the color of royalty? The soldiers, as they were mocking Jesus as 'the King of the Jews' draped a purple robe over Him. While they were mocking Him, did they realize that He truly is the King of kings and therefore truly worthy to wear a purple robe?
The One mocked suffered terribly. But He did it willingly. His love for us, for me, for the girls in the purple sparkly shoes: His love for a sin-soaked world led Him to the cross. But it didn't leave Him there. What hope I have in the risen Lord!
I might have to see if I can find some purple sparkly shoes.
DS had ordered the tickets the day before, and while he was in the lobby picking them up, I was looking at the people coming in. I noticed one particular little girl, about 3 or 4 years old. She had sparkly eyes and blonde hair. A real little charmer. And then I noticed her shoes. They were sparkly purple. I was wearing my faded black boots. Warm, but getting ugly as the winter drags on. My boots are faded and worn. But I wore them because I needed to keep my feet warm.
I wondered when I saw this little girl why her mother wouldn't insist that she wear warm boots. That's what I likely would have done with DD when she was little. She probably would have wanted to wear cute little shoes with little heels to hockey games and I would have likely said something like, "They're not practical. Your toes will get cold." Maybe that's why she doesn't like hockey games.
As I was contemplating and being curious I couldn't help but also wonder that maybe this little girl was there with her dad. He wouldn't care what was on her feet. If his little girl wanted to dress up as a princess with purple sparkly shoes, why not?
I smiled broadly to myself when the little girl's mom came and reached for her hand. Her mom was also wearing purple sparkly shoes. The little girl's close-in-age sister had them on too. Dad and older brother were with them. It was a family affair. I could imagine the little girls plotting with their mom before they went out. Maybe it was Mom's idea. It doesn't matter. They looked very happy. They were with the family.
Did they know, when they picked out their purple sparkly shoes, that purple, in the Scriptures, is the color of royalty? The soldiers, as they were mocking Jesus as 'the King of the Jews' draped a purple robe over Him. While they were mocking Him, did they realize that He truly is the King of kings and therefore truly worthy to wear a purple robe?
The One mocked suffered terribly. But He did it willingly. His love for us, for me, for the girls in the purple sparkly shoes: His love for a sin-soaked world led Him to the cross. But it didn't leave Him there. What hope I have in the risen Lord!
I might have to see if I can find some purple sparkly shoes.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Preparations
Our plans have a tendency to go awry. For the second time in almost 6 months we will be staying home because of snow. In October we didn't go to my blue-suede brother's home for Thanksgiving because we would have been driving into the first horrible snowstorm of the winter season. So we decided then that Easter would be the perfect time to head East. Easter, after all, would be in the spring, the roads would be good, travelling would be a breeze.
Apparently the October snow storm foreshadowed the winter to follow. The winter to stay. The winter that is still here almost 6 months later. The winter that brought with it more snow than we've had in years- many many years, and enough ice-covered highways to thwart many travel plans.
Our travel plans haven't been thwarted by ridiculous road conditions; rather they have been sidelined by the possibility of flooding. And we need to be prepared.
My Sweetheart bought an extra sump-pump just in case the one we have can't keep up. Dear Son and My Sweetheart have bought lined rubber boots. I didn't know such a thing existed. Apparently the boots will keep feet warm up to, or down to, a temperature of -40 degrees C. That is the exact same temperature as 40 below F. If My Sweetheart and DS will be outside trenching in the sloppy slushy snow during the Easter break, they need warm toes. And the likelihood of said trenching in the coming week is high. We have snow this year up to the top of some bins. Mind you, that snow is that high because of the extreme winds this past week that blew it around like crazy!
So, while the outside preparations have begun, it's time to start thinking about the inside preparations for Easter. My dilemma is in what to cook. Ham? or Turkey? I have to soon decide so I can plan my grocery list. The last time this happened to me, at Thanksgiving, when our travel plans changed, I was in a car accident. And then the power went out when I was cooking the last minute turkey. I'm already nervous just thinking about it.
This week I am contemplating what transpired that week before Good Friday. Preparations were underway for Passover. The sacrificial Lamb was prepared for what was to come. Jesus was preparing the disciples. "Remember me," He said, as they drank the wine and broke the bread. What a week of preparations that would have been- culminating in the crucifixion for our sins.
And then - Easter! The reason for hope. The Hope for the world. Hope for me. Hope for you.
Apparently the October snow storm foreshadowed the winter to follow. The winter to stay. The winter that is still here almost 6 months later. The winter that brought with it more snow than we've had in years- many many years, and enough ice-covered highways to thwart many travel plans.
Our travel plans haven't been thwarted by ridiculous road conditions; rather they have been sidelined by the possibility of flooding. And we need to be prepared.
My Sweetheart bought an extra sump-pump just in case the one we have can't keep up. Dear Son and My Sweetheart have bought lined rubber boots. I didn't know such a thing existed. Apparently the boots will keep feet warm up to, or down to, a temperature of -40 degrees C. That is the exact same temperature as 40 below F. If My Sweetheart and DS will be outside trenching in the sloppy slushy snow during the Easter break, they need warm toes. And the likelihood of said trenching in the coming week is high. We have snow this year up to the top of some bins. Mind you, that snow is that high because of the extreme winds this past week that blew it around like crazy!
So, while the outside preparations have begun, it's time to start thinking about the inside preparations for Easter. My dilemma is in what to cook. Ham? or Turkey? I have to soon decide so I can plan my grocery list. The last time this happened to me, at Thanksgiving, when our travel plans changed, I was in a car accident. And then the power went out when I was cooking the last minute turkey. I'm already nervous just thinking about it.
This week I am contemplating what transpired that week before Good Friday. Preparations were underway for Passover. The sacrificial Lamb was prepared for what was to come. Jesus was preparing the disciples. "Remember me," He said, as they drank the wine and broke the bread. What a week of preparations that would have been- culminating in the crucifixion for our sins.
And then - Easter! The reason for hope. The Hope for the world. Hope for me. Hope for you.
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Bunny
My mom and I took a trip in 1975 to visit her brother and his wife. This was, up to that point in my 11 years of life, the trip of a lifetime. We were going to be gone for 1 whole week. We were travelling with Raymond and Helen. They had been our neigbors to the south. When we looked out our big picture window on the farm we could, on clear days, see their house - their big, beautiful old 2 story farm house, complete with a wraparound verandah. Their house, I discovered years later, had been the same design as our old farm house, until Dad removed the upstairs and extended the rest of the house outwards. "It was cheaper to heat that way!"
Raymond and Helen were travelling out to the west coast in their winnebego. They knew Mom's brother lived out there so they invited her to come along. She invited me to come along! Just me! The boys and Dad were going to spend Easter break all by themselves. I never thought of them spending a week alone without Mom until a couple years ago. I guess they managed ok. They likely had runny, salty oatmeal every morning for breakfast. There would have been chores for the boys to do. The house didn't fall apart when we were gone.
I remember how excited I was when we finally boarded the winnebego. We were travelling in style! I was really travelling in style too, because Mom had bought me a new navy leather-look spring jacket! I was stylish with my static electric flyaway short shag hair cut, fangs, and leather- looking jacket.
After what seemed like hours in the winnebego we finally arrived at my uncle's home in Port Coquitlam. My uncle was so much fun and my aunt was so beautiful. I had never been to their home before because they lived so far away. They entertained us as though we were royalty. We went on excursions, we went shopping, we had a great time!
A highlight for me was spending the night at my aunt's brother's place. This brother of my aunt had kids my age and they were FUN! Because it was Easter time, and because they were so hospitable, they gave me a basket of Easter treats -a big basket of Easter treats. Chocolate eggs, small chocolate bunnies and a HUGE 1 pound solid chocolate bunny. I probably got the bunny basket 3 days into the week long stay. I kept it in 'my' bedroom. I hid it actually. I thought perhaps my uncle would try to sneak it away. I didn't hide it very long though- why hide something you can eat?
All that chocolate was devoured in the next few days. And I gained 10 pounds. Just like that! That was a lot of chocolate!
Maybe that's why the Easter Bunny left such small treats every year since...
Raymond and Helen were travelling out to the west coast in their winnebego. They knew Mom's brother lived out there so they invited her to come along. She invited me to come along! Just me! The boys and Dad were going to spend Easter break all by themselves. I never thought of them spending a week alone without Mom until a couple years ago. I guess they managed ok. They likely had runny, salty oatmeal every morning for breakfast. There would have been chores for the boys to do. The house didn't fall apart when we were gone.
I remember how excited I was when we finally boarded the winnebego. We were travelling in style! I was really travelling in style too, because Mom had bought me a new navy leather-look spring jacket! I was stylish with my static electric flyaway short shag hair cut, fangs, and leather- looking jacket.
After what seemed like hours in the winnebego we finally arrived at my uncle's home in Port Coquitlam. My uncle was so much fun and my aunt was so beautiful. I had never been to their home before because they lived so far away. They entertained us as though we were royalty. We went on excursions, we went shopping, we had a great time!
A highlight for me was spending the night at my aunt's brother's place. This brother of my aunt had kids my age and they were FUN! Because it was Easter time, and because they were so hospitable, they gave me a basket of Easter treats -a big basket of Easter treats. Chocolate eggs, small chocolate bunnies and a HUGE 1 pound solid chocolate bunny. I probably got the bunny basket 3 days into the week long stay. I kept it in 'my' bedroom. I hid it actually. I thought perhaps my uncle would try to sneak it away. I didn't hide it very long though- why hide something you can eat?
All that chocolate was devoured in the next few days. And I gained 10 pounds. Just like that! That was a lot of chocolate!
Maybe that's why the Easter Bunny left such small treats every year since...
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Two and a half hours
She exuded friendliness when I finally was able to speak to her on the phone. And last Wednesday, My Sweetheart, Dear Son and I were finally in the car, on the road, and on our way to meet her. Our appointed meeting time was at 1:00 pm and the appointed meeting place was just inside the main doors, in front of the information kiosk.
We walked up the steps, pulled open the heavy oak doors at the main entrance, went inside and looked around. "Maybe she said we were supposed to go into the main doors and turn left," I said to My Sweetheart and DS as we didn't see an information kiosk right there. "Maybe we're supposed to go left and down this hallway..."
"Maybe we're supposed to go right by the main doors instead of left.."
"Let's go back left" DS said to My Sweetheart and I when both directions proved futile. "The finance office is there- maybe they know where we should go."
I pushed open the door, stuck my head inside and waited for someone to come to my rescue.
"Who are you supposed to meet?" the friendly lady asked, sensing our lostness.
"Marlene," I replied.
"Oh, Marlene!! Ha ha! Oh, you're in the wrong area! Go back outside, down to the main doors, and she'll be there!"
So, the main looking doors weren't the main doors. We finally made our way to the right place and Marlene, the friendly person I had talked to a few weeks prior, was waiting for us. She took us past the reception area, into her office, and proceeded to tell us everything we would need to know. She put me at ease. Marlene was going to take DS, My Sweetheart and myself on a tour of where DS will be studying Civil Engineering in the fall. A private tour. Bonus.
She took us upstairs, down corriders - "we don't call them hallways here," she said. "And so you don't get lost, just look at the lockers in the corrider - each corrider has a different number and that number corresponds with the lockers."
Good thing she was leading this entourage. Down corriders, up stairs, down stairs, more corriders, more stairs, inside classrooms, labs, cafes, gyms, corriders. We saw instructors, students, classrooms. We went inside labs where students were working. We went down towards the corridor where the coop program was run. "Oh, that's him!" Marlene exclaimed as a man breezed by with a smile and a wave. "Him" was the man who would be looking after DS's work placement after his first 2 semesters.
After the tour we ended back at her office where our stuff had been safely locked away. The tour was over. We said our goodbyes and headed home. Two and a half hours away.
In a little over 5 months we will be heading back on the same highway. We'll be taking stuff in one vehicle, while DS takes stuff in his own vehicle. We've secured a suite for him a block from the back door of his school. And then , after we have him safely settled, we'll begin the drive back home - two and a half hours away.
We walked up the steps, pulled open the heavy oak doors at the main entrance, went inside and looked around. "Maybe she said we were supposed to go into the main doors and turn left," I said to My Sweetheart and DS as we didn't see an information kiosk right there. "Maybe we're supposed to go left and down this hallway..."
"Maybe we're supposed to go right by the main doors instead of left.."
"Let's go back left" DS said to My Sweetheart and I when both directions proved futile. "The finance office is there- maybe they know where we should go."
I pushed open the door, stuck my head inside and waited for someone to come to my rescue.
"Who are you supposed to meet?" the friendly lady asked, sensing our lostness.
"Marlene," I replied.
"Oh, Marlene!! Ha ha! Oh, you're in the wrong area! Go back outside, down to the main doors, and she'll be there!"
So, the main looking doors weren't the main doors. We finally made our way to the right place and Marlene, the friendly person I had talked to a few weeks prior, was waiting for us. She took us past the reception area, into her office, and proceeded to tell us everything we would need to know. She put me at ease. Marlene was going to take DS, My Sweetheart and myself on a tour of where DS will be studying Civil Engineering in the fall. A private tour. Bonus.
She took us upstairs, down corriders - "we don't call them hallways here," she said. "And so you don't get lost, just look at the lockers in the corrider - each corrider has a different number and that number corresponds with the lockers."
Good thing she was leading this entourage. Down corriders, up stairs, down stairs, more corriders, more stairs, inside classrooms, labs, cafes, gyms, corriders. We saw instructors, students, classrooms. We went inside labs where students were working. We went down towards the corridor where the coop program was run. "Oh, that's him!" Marlene exclaimed as a man breezed by with a smile and a wave. "Him" was the man who would be looking after DS's work placement after his first 2 semesters.
After the tour we ended back at her office where our stuff had been safely locked away. The tour was over. We said our goodbyes and headed home. Two and a half hours away.
In a little over 5 months we will be heading back on the same highway. We'll be taking stuff in one vehicle, while DS takes stuff in his own vehicle. We've secured a suite for him a block from the back door of his school. And then , after we have him safely settled, we'll begin the drive back home - two and a half hours away.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Seasons
I think that we are probably experiencing day 155 of winter. That's just a guess. Honestly though, this winter season is dragging on; and it looks like, according to the weather network, our little community will be in for more snow before the week is done. I think this is the most snow we've had since 1974.
Even I, a self-proclaimed winter lover, is ready for spring. I, the one who hates spring, am ready for a change. I am tired of boots and winter coats, icy highways and hibernating indoors, long sleeved sweaters and nights in front of the fire. I am tired of cancelled meetings and rescheduling appointments because of the bad weather.
I'm ready for a new season.
This past winter I've been experiencing a seasonal slump. Perhaps a little depression. Maybe not. I just haven't felt like writing, among other things. Who, after all, is interested in what I have to write about?
Time for a new season. A season of melting and planting, mud and tulips, cedar waxwings and robins. Time to shake off the doldrums and embrace spring.
I WILL embrace spring this year. The mud and the mayhem. The busy-ness of the seeding season will soon descend, and like it or not, I must be ready. I must be ready for the early morning alarm going off so that long days can be put in while the weather is nice. I must be ready to think about my garden and flowers. I will need to clean up the yard. Once I get outdoors doing that I will be fine. I will enjoy the season before the flies and mosquitoes and heat and thunderstorms.
And I will start to write again. I will write about my faith, my family, our farm- the everydayness that makes me who I am. I will write to encourage you I hope. I pray that my words will be used to lift you up, make you smile, prompt a laugh. More than anything I hope that my words will point you to the God who loves you so much that He sent Jesus to show the depth of His love.
Even I, a self-proclaimed winter lover, is ready for spring. I, the one who hates spring, am ready for a change. I am tired of boots and winter coats, icy highways and hibernating indoors, long sleeved sweaters and nights in front of the fire. I am tired of cancelled meetings and rescheduling appointments because of the bad weather.
I'm ready for a new season.
This past winter I've been experiencing a seasonal slump. Perhaps a little depression. Maybe not. I just haven't felt like writing, among other things. Who, after all, is interested in what I have to write about?
Time for a new season. A season of melting and planting, mud and tulips, cedar waxwings and robins. Time to shake off the doldrums and embrace spring.
I WILL embrace spring this year. The mud and the mayhem. The busy-ness of the seeding season will soon descend, and like it or not, I must be ready. I must be ready for the early morning alarm going off so that long days can be put in while the weather is nice. I must be ready to think about my garden and flowers. I will need to clean up the yard. Once I get outdoors doing that I will be fine. I will enjoy the season before the flies and mosquitoes and heat and thunderstorms.
And I will start to write again. I will write about my faith, my family, our farm- the everydayness that makes me who I am. I will write to encourage you I hope. I pray that my words will be used to lift you up, make you smile, prompt a laugh. More than anything I hope that my words will point you to the God who loves you so much that He sent Jesus to show the depth of His love.
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