Summertime is perfect for gathering with loved ones and so we took advantage of time with visiting family for a few photo ops. Kids and grandparents are the perfect subject matter. And so are good friends! Happy Summer!
Family and Friends
Posted in Community, Family, Friends, Gardening, Grandparenting, History, Holidays
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Welcome Clara Colleen!
On Saturday, August 8, little Clara burst upon the scene and our world will never be the same. Congratulations, Brendan and Andrea on the safe and joyous arrival of your darling daughter! Already she has niggled her way into our hearts!
Children are, indeed, a gift from God and such a hopeful gesture of grace. How God loves us!
Posted in Family, Grandparenting, New Life
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Mishaps
A few years ago — I’m thinking 30 — when camping still seemed like a viable holiday option, our family ventured east with another family, our besties. First stop was near Kamloops, where tumble weeds tumble across an arid landscape and camp grounds sit right next to the railroad tracks. The trains move freight all. night. long.
With 4 kids in tow, mornings were early and breakfasts were had at the first truck stop en route. By lunchtime the crew cried for release from constricting car seats so we aimed to reach the campsite by early afternoon. After settling in we unpacked the cycling gear — including a kid-towing trailer — and cycled around Banff. The next morning we awoke to frost and snow. I wore all the clothes I brought, dressed the kids like Heidi, cranked up the heat in our 11 passenger Ford Econoline van and we headed for warmer climes.
We reached Calgary late morning and attempted to set up camp on a wide open grassy site that overlooked the city. The wind sent the tent flying like a kite before we were able to anchor it with all our stuff, so a move to a more protected site was in order. In no time, hot dogs grilled on the BBQ for our hungry little brood. The youngest of the 4 had tummy trouble and his diaper changes were particularly messy — of course, the picnic table doubled as a change table, taking appetites down a notch.
One of the kids noticed a thin black line on the side of the tent and it took some convincing for the adults to pay enough attention to take a look. Unbeknownst to us, the tents were perched atop an ant hill. Inside and out, the invasion of the ants was as aggressive as a Roman Army at the height of conquest. So, we moved again and went to play at Calaway Park.
Next stop was Lethbridge, where we encountered a midnight deluge that nearly drowned us.
Needless to say, we hotelled it all the way home and declared that camping is not for us.
I’ve heard people say that mishaps are the things that make memories and I can see their point. We laugh about that camping trip. But does it engender fond recollections we long to repeat? No.
The photo below is taken a couple of years later when we discovered that boating is definitely our thing, mishaps and all.
May your mishaps be merrier.
Companions
Sometimes our journey through life can be a bit mundane and we need a little livening up. Puppies are just the thing! These ones belong to my quilting, knitting, tea-drinking buddy, Leslie, and I am very pleased to welcome them to our visits. They are exactly the companions we needed to keep things fun and oh, my, they are so much fun!
Welcome Oscar and Ella!
Posted in Girlfriends, pets
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A Rare Specimen
While vacationing on Oahu a few years ago, my husband and I picked up a trail book at Barnes and Noble because we wanted a closer look at the volcanic wild. The book suggested a trailhead in an upscale subdivision that would lead to a range overlooking both Hanauma Bay and Lanikai. So we donned our hiking gear, doused ourselves with bug spray, filled up the water bottles and set off.
The path led to a ridge, where low-growing shrubs provided some security from the steep drop-off on either side. The humidity and altitude kept us cool as we hiked — gazing beyond the lush and jagged terrain to the turquoise seas. Something caught my eye as I glanced back — something soft and delicately blue. I stopped to take a closer look and there on a petite blossom fanned an equally petite butterfly. I wanted to take time to examine it, to study it so I could later identify it and get to know it’s particularities. I didn’t have the chance because it flitted away, as if refusing to be examined — too modest for inquiring eyes.
I had a similar encounter a couple of days ago in a garden at Regent College. Only this time the rarity was behavioural. With as much suddenness, a hint of colour caught my eye and in the midst of the lushness of expertise, there was the exquisite and unexpectedly beautiful offer of contribution. Without pretense, without claims of expertise or showiness, there landed the gentle, quiet, spectacular presence of humility — bright against the verde of productivity and competence — alighting on a blossom we may have missed without humility’s attention.
Later I recalled the encounter to my husband and found myself weeping at the wonder of such a gift on a very ordinary journey of work and organization.
May God grant us eyes to see and ears to hear the beauty of humility as we hike along life’s ridges.
Posted in Creativity, Faith, Gardening, Humility, Outdoors, Regent College
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Hydrate
I’ve been in the Sinai desert twice in my lifetime. The first was in spring of 1979. It was a pilgrimage of sorts where I and 2 friends camped on the beach of the Red Sea. We worked hard at staying hydrated, buying a block of ice each morning from the local canteen that provided drink throughout the day. In that kind of heat, a person doesn’t perspire in beads of sweat because the desert air drinks from the skin as fluid expires.
The last time I set foot on the Sinai was with my husband on our way from Jordan through Eilat. We bunked at the hostel near Masada so we could make the pre-dawn hike to the ruins and take in a desert sunrise. It was dark and hot at 4am when we began our ascent but we stayed hydrated and coolish with sweet water. That same day, we drove to Nazareth after a brief stroll through the garden of En Gedi.
Halfway to Nazareth I began experiencing what I now know was heat stroke — severe headache, nausea, dizziness and confusion. By the time we reached the inn all I wanted was a dark room and ice for my blistering mouth, unsettled stomach and aching head. Water alone did not relieve my symptoms and it took 2 days before I recovered enough to stand.
I struggled the remainder of that trip through Israel and Turkey to stay well (apparently dehydration is cumulative) and have since learned the importance of replenishing electrolytes in the hydration process. I now carry NUUN tablets, that fizz in water and provide necessary minerals to stave off dehydration. Wearing a hat helps too.
My physical response to overexertion and dehydration spills over to the metaphysical. When I exceed my personal limitations, ignoring the signs that my soul needs replenishing, I face burnout — heat stroke of the soul. And my limitations are experienced differently than yours — similarly, while I suffered from a depleted biological state, my husband plodded along like a camel although our water intake was the same. I am growing to accept that am more sensitive to dehydration in all areas of my life than most people and am only just learning to attend carefully to the reality.
In my corner of the world today we are experiencing a drought — highly unusual for a rain forest, even in summer! Watering restrictions mean triage when it comes to which plants I water and which I let die. With extra fertilization and drip hoses laid at the roots of my fruiting plants to mitigate evaporation — strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries are flourishing in the heat. I am gardening with care and seeing good fruit as a result.
Can the same process carry significance for the hydration of my soul? When my inner reserves are depleted, I have already exceeded my threshold of production, perhaps without even knowing it. Sometimes it takes someone else to point it out to us. They may ask, “What keeps you going anyway?” Rod Wilson in his insightful book, How Do I Help a Hurting Friend, talks about the beautiful tapestry of production and replenishment, where imbalance leads to sensual deprivation — unawareness of our 5 senses — and the way balance is restored through sensual attentiveness, hydration at our roots. What we need, he says, is creative rhythm to our lives where Sabbath rest is the joyous NUUN, mineral-rich still water where restoration takes place.
In the garden of life, I believe that good fruit is the expression of a flourishing soul. May yours be sweet and abundant.
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Posted in Creativity, Faith, Gardening
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Journey of the Heart
Journeying is a good metaphor for a lot of life’s little ploddings. For example, I’m in the process of learning to paint and was delighted to find a high school classmate who offers beginner watercolour classes on Gabriola Island. One July Friday I hopped on the ferry — a necessity if you live on an island — and spent the day awash in colour and catching up with an old friend.
Perhaps you are exploring something new. Maybe it’s an unexpected diagnosis or you’re learning to navigate your days without that special someone you love. It could be you’ve moved to an unfamiliar place or you have decided that adopting a new behaviour to replace an old, unhelpful one is worthy of your efforts. These are journeys of the heart.
Henri Nouwen, in his brilliant little book entitled The Way of the Heart, talks about his journey into solitude, silence and prayer. The first two, he says, are necessary for the third. For me, solitude is easy and it’s not that I have anything against people — quite the contrary. Nouwen says that the discipline of solitude actually makes us better company. That’s the reason for it, in his view. To love others attentively because we make space in ourselves for them.
Silence is not so easy. Even when my mouth stops moving, my mind does not. What a chatterbox I am in my own thoughts — even my dreams are filled with noise and babbling. There was a time when I thought I was good listener. I have since learned that the evaluating, advising, and interpreting that goes on in my head when someone else is talking is hardly helpful to them or me in my longing to really care for them. Practicing silence helps me step out of life’s circus where the 3-ring frenzy distracts me from what I truly value. It’s like shutting off the TV and letting the stillness envelope me. I learn to pay attention to what’s going on for real. It helps me bring true presence to others.
And prayer, well, I like the idea that prayer is simply keeping company with God. What I gain from silence and solitude is the reminder that the very ordinary things that occupy my days are all done in His company — gardening and quilting, working and studying, fairy-taling with Brie and sushi-ing with Mom — time and again I am surprised by the joy of simply being in Him. Prayer truly is a journey of the heart.
May you sense God’s peace in your journeying.
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Posted in Faith, Learning, Musings
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Home
The thing about going home is that it’s just so normal and ordinary that we don’t think to take photos on our way there. Perhaps a plane shot over the left wing with Mount Baker in the distance glowing white against the blue summer sky, or the welcome home dinner we enjoyed in our son’s garden, or the skytrain or Car2Go transportation necessities. Nope, none of it.
But we are home and happy to be here. The garden is a jungle of leggy tomato plants and petunias. Bees and butterflies, not to mention hummingbirds, have taken over the backyard and everything is very dry. Watering restrictions begin tomorrow and the sky is brown with smoke haze from local forest fires. Ash falls like the rain we need so desperately. There is a collective angst in the air and everyone’s talking about fear of fire.
We’re jet-lagged and recovering. Gord has already gone back to work — 56 hours in 7 days by the time he has a day off. It will delay his recovery but we’re thankful for the work and the people who encourage him in his area of expertise.
I have papers to write and a baby quilt to construct, not to mention the little book I’m creating for Brie who is coming to visit this weekend. Oh, and a little dress to sew for Eilidh. And I mustn’t forget something special for Ian!
How good it is to be home.
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Posted in Family, Gardening, Grandparenting, Home, Outdoors, sewing, Weather
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Full Circle
It’s 7 hours by train from Berlin to Amsterdam and we enjoyed every minute. We arrived just in time for a Dutch dinner and ate at an Indonesian-French fusion restaurant on the street, as is typical in Europe. The street-eating part, that is.
Our apartment is luxurious, right on the canal in the Jordaan District, just steps from good food, good transport and good sightseeing. Our final few hours on the Continent consisted, however, of trying to keep cool in this 30 degree heat.
It’s Thursday morning here. We fly to Vancouver today and arrive an hour after we depart. Although that sounds easy, the 10 hours in a metal tube and 9 hour time change does presesnt challenges for us but it’s all worthwhile for the experience of travel.
I ran across some travel wisdom yesterday in a passing conversation.
“The world is a book. If you don’t travel, you read only a page.”
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Posted in Holidays, Travel
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West Berlin and Wittenberg
Tickets were booked months ago for entrance into the Reichstag, Berlin’s Parliament and seat of democracy. The building is an architectural wonder — steel and glass with the best use of natural resources depicting openness in design and structure. That openness is what the German Parliament is after and the whole place feels at peace. Quite a contrast from photos we’ve seen of Berlin in 1946.
On our way out we met Julia from Cologne who is Jewish and serves with Jews for Jesus. I asked her for a pamphlet and she says, “Do you know Jesus?”
“Yes,” I say. “I love Jesus!”
“Cool!” she says and hugs me tight. “Do you know any Jews?” I say I do and she says I should tell them about Juden fur Jesus, the German version of the ministry. She says she gets into trouble for telling Jewish people about the Messiah and we laugh because I say I believe her. We chat a bit and she send us off with “God bless you!”
On our way we hit some of the city’s top sights, visiting the Memorial to Murdered Jews of Europe — a haunting exhibit, and the Brandenburg Gate where East Berliners flooded through on November 9, 1989. Remember the newscasts?
I came across this United Nations prayer and thought it fit.
“Oh, Lord, our planet Earth is only a small star is space. It is our duty to transform it into a planet whose creatures are no longer tormented by war, hunger, and fear, no longer senselessly divided by race, colour, and ideology. Give us courage and strength to begin this task today so that our children and our children’s children shall one day carry the name of man with pride.” Amen.
Next we met Chris, who serves as a security guard at the American Embassy. He’s lived here all his adult life. We got talking about food — Gord asked about a recommendation for lunch — and he spoke in great detail about German meat. Actually, his daily trips to the butcher required him to speak German and that’s why he learned the language. He said, “Germans don’t have the same cuts of meat we do. I like good, slow cooked ribs that take all day to get right. You know the kind that fall off the bone. I like them fat at one end and small at the other. German ribs are perfect end-to-end and they BBQ them on these grills that are only this big, ” he makes a small box with his man-sized hands. His description of ribs and several other Indiana meat dishes have us salivating and ready for the Indian cuisine he refers us to just down the block, “right beside the Canadian Embassy. You should go down there and say hi to your folks.” So we do, but not before he shakes our hands and wishes us a great day. We told him if ever the security job doesn’t work out he could open a comedy club.
Today we caught an early train to Wittenberg, or Lutherland as some would have it. As you know, it’s ground zero for the Protestant movement. I’ve always thought it kind of weird to embrace a doctrine of faith that says what I’m not rather than what I am. I don’t really consider myself a Protestant. I don’t make a habit of protesting on issues of belief. Luther called himself a Reformer. It’s a better fit, I think. The other option is to call oneself a Christian, but we all know, that’s just plain loaded. But I digress.
Luther’s House (now a museum, of course) is a Luther scholar’s dream with original documents and art work following the process of Reformation. I can’t begin to go into the detail it deserves on my lowly blog, but I will say that only in the British National Library have I felt that overwhelmed with gratitude for people who take care of such precious sources of written words. We also visited Castle Church where Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door, as well as St. Mary’s Church — the seat of Reformation itself. It was enough to send chills down the spine of this budding theologian! The highlight for Gord was the train ride to and from Wittenberg, of course.
Since we’re staying in East Berlin we hadn’t spent much time in the west part of the city so that’s where we landed this afternoon. It’s a high-end, modern, shopping mecca that oozes Capitalism. I am happy to be settled in our Eastside apartment for the evening, with preparations for our long train ride to Amsterdam tomorrow. Our final day of touring is over, laundry is well underway, and we are readying ourselves for the journey home on Thursday.
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Posted in Faith, Food, History, Holidays, Learning, Literature, Travel
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