More SCC

I really do listen to other music than just Steven Curtis Chapman's. Really. But bear with me as I share a third blog in a row with his name in it. I have always drawn strength from so many of his lyrics, but I believe so many more people are going to relate to his music now - especially with what he produces in future - with the depth of grief he has experienced.

If you are interested, here are links to interviews he and his family did this week to talk about the grief they have been working through. Have a kleenex handy and listen to one with Good Morning America and the other with Larry King on CNN - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6 (Part 6 has the new verse to 'Yours', as in my previous blog).

Yours

"I’ve walked the valley of death’s shadow

So deep and dark that I could barely breathe

I’ve had to let go of more than I could bear

And questioned everything that I believe

But still even here in this great darkness

A comfort and hope come breaking through

As I can say in life or death

God we belong to you."


Steven Curtis Chapman - "Yours"

(The above is a brand new verse 4 that has been added to the original song since recently walking through that valley and losing his 5 year old daughter.)

We will miss you Joy

"This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams

And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no

And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope (There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan

But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and ...

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything God promised us is true, so ...

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope"

With Hope, By Steven Curtis Chapman

A Little Summer R & R (Repair and Reorganize)

I need to get back to work tomorrow. After a two week vacation, I need a rest!

Oh, the first part of our two weeks off was wonderful. Lots of fun and activities with family and friends. The last half was spent cleaning and organizing and fixing. I learned I can even go without keeping up with news events and stay off the computer for an entire week....and not miss it at all!

Our bedroom has now been totally transformed to a peaceful and organized place - I can't believe my fingers just typed that! After 28 years of marriage and with kids, does anyone ever have a bedroom that doesn't harbour everything but the kitchen sink? More on that in a future blog....

My favorite part of our bedroom is this picture.

I couldn't resist buying it when I saw it. It now hangs over our bed and reminds me of our dog who has been known to creep from her place at the end of the bed up to the pillows, and peacefully sleep when we're not home (I have spies).

What a wonderful verse to hang over your head when you're snoozin'!!

Now if I can only come up with one to boot me out of bed when I've got to go to work.....perhaps a little King James version of Proverbs 6:9...."How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?"

Rabbit Droppings

I think I need therapy.

At times I believe that I am Mother Nature. No, on second thought, I'm much kinder than her. Call me Mother Nurture.

Last weekend I realized just how severe my 'problem' has gotten. Let me backtrack. Eleven days ago our dog made us very aware that we have yet another nest of baby rabbits beside the stairs of the deck. (Last year, there were 7 baby rabbits born on the other side of the stairs). Now, every time Nikki goes outside, she immediately runs to the nest - which is basically just a hole in the ground covered in a mixture of grasses and rabbit fur - and begins to dig her nose in to find them and tries to pull back the grass with her paw. The babies are laying nestled in a tight little ball just inches below their covering.

Here is a picture of them at just about a day or two old - their little bodies devoid of hair.

On the first day we found the babies, I was so afraid about Nikki's clawing, that I foolishly built a barrier around the nest, leaving room for Mother Rabbit to get in.

(I ask you, is this a picture of someone in their right mind?) By that evening however, I was so worried that the mother would never come back with all those chairs around, that I moved them all out of the way again. I was most concerned that I had not seen the mother anywhere, and wondering if she had abandoned them. Last year, the mother wasn't afraid and would nurse the babies while we were nearby. So I did some internet research and was relieved to learn that initially the mother rabbit only nurses once a day, most often in the middle of the night when no one is around, and then she stays far from the nest so as not to attract attention to it. (But why didn't she build it under the deck away from the dog????!!)

Each day, I pulled back the covering to ensure the babies were still alive, growing, and unharmed by the cats in the neighbourhood. Momma must have been caring for them. After a week they began to grow fur though their eyes were not yet open. I wanted so badly to gently stroke them or hold them, but I dared not.

Last weekend, we had visiting out of town relatives, so we invited family over for a BBQ. Of course our dog had to socialize with everyone on the deck which was fine when she kept distracted with the copious food that was all around her. But then Momma Rabbit decided to show up. Maybe she was concerned with all these people right around her babies, but she started getting braver and trying to make her way to the nest even with everyone sitting nearby. Any time someone stood up, she would hop away, and then slowly ease her way back again. We were all watching her. But then Nikki spotted her. Off the dog shot down the stairs with me in hot pursuit.

It was a slow-mo moment.

My hand was just an inch from her collar but I couldn't grab her as I chased her down the steps and tried to hang onto a plate of food at the same time. All I could attempt to grab was her tail and I held onto it for a brief moment, only to be left with some dog hair in my hand. How cruel was that to grab my dog's tail in the heat of the moment?! Hamburger and salads slid off my plate unto the ground as I chased the dog and yelled at her to stop. (Like a retriever would stop chasing a rabbit!). Poor Momma. She zig-zagged across the lawn with Nikki (the arthritic dog) right behind her, but she squeezed through the fence to the safety of the neighbours yard.

When others began picking up my food off the ground, I realized how stupid I must have looked and how I could have injured myself frantically trying to grab the dog while negotiating stairs and balancing paper plate piled with food. Thankfully no video cameras were capturing the moment.

I carried on conversation with my nephew and, perhaps with his psychological bent he sensed in pity, my need for therapy. He wondered if I might like to nurture some duck eggs that didn't hatch for a mother duck on his university campus. I began to picture a large pond in the yard with a family of ducks, but someone offered information that mother ducks will abandon eggs that are not going to hatch. Dream dissolved.

A little later, my daughter and her friend arrived to the BBQ and I'm not sure I even said hello before I began into the story of the rabbits. They looked at each other and broke into laughter immediately. My daughter interrupted and said to her friend, "You see? I told you she'd start talking about rabbits!!" It was then that it hit me that I'm a little too possessed in my desire to nurture nature. Apparently, as I was in the driveway saying goodbye to some of the relatives, the mother rabbit nursed her babies as the rest watched from the deck - with Nikki safely on leash. I felt better.

The next day, Momma Rabbit began pulling dead grass at the back of the yard and piling it over a hole she dug in the garden. We thought she might be planning to move her babies away from all the commotion, but they haven't moved, so perhaps it was her desperate attempt to draw attention away from her babies.

Here is what the bunnies look like now. Time will tell how many are in the 'pile'. Don't you just want to stroke that little head and scratch behind the ears? Very shortly, they will begin to scatter around the yard and we will have to keep the dog on a leash, until they move on. Otherwise, they will end up in Nikki's mouth for sure.

Much later in the evening of the BBQ, we saw a skunk on the front lawn. I'll have to do a little research about their nesting habits and see how eager I am to risk injury chasing a dog pursuing an odd looking striped kitty. Hopefully Momma skunk runs when pursued... with tail between legs!

It's a bird...it's a plane....it's a....lawnchair

My newspaper met me this morning with an interesting article. A man who lives in a town of 500 (picture that...a little boredom perhaps?) had a lofty dream as a boy to fly in a lawn chair using hellium balloons. I remember reading about him before...this was his third attempt. And this time he succeeded in flying from central Oregon to Idaho. He created quite a stir for all those small town folks.

Myrtle: "Wilbur! What in tarnation is that up in the sky?"

Wilbur: "Land sakes! It's a cotton-pickin' feller in a lawn chair!"

Lofty dreams indeed.

It seems to have been a recurring theme for me in the last few weeks.

The other day I blogged of the challenge of a Sunday sermon. I am still telling myself that "I am a world changer" and trying to get a handle on that. This Sunday our pastor showed a video clip with descriptions of the 12 unlikely guys that Jesus chose to get his message out and help others....fisherman, bribe taker, terrorist, doubter, loud mouth, etc.

In the afternoon I went to watch Rumble perform and the theme of the event was, "Ordinary people doing extraordinary things". Again, God chose a dreamer (Joseph), a bumbling speaker (Moses), a deceiver (Jacob), a shepherd boy (David), and so on.

In the evening, I listened to the Watoto African Childrens Choir. Individual children, who are so amazingly gifted in music and dance, spoke of their lives in Uganda. They have been orphaned by Aids and other tragedies, children raising children because there are no parents. Little hope you would think. Yet they plan to be leaders in their country, each with lofty goals in the midst of insurmountable difficulties. To watch them joyfully dance and sing, "I Am Not Forgotten" is a heart tugging moment.

Ordinary people.

Imperfect people.

Unfortunate people.

With lofty dreams and goals despite incredible odds.

I'm going to go outside and rig up a lawn chair. Or maybe sit in it for a bit until I have a goal with a lot more impact for Myrtle and Wilbur.

I am not forgotten

I am not forgotten

I am not forgotten

God knows my name

He knows my name

Light over darkness

Strength over weakness

Joy over sadness

He knows my name

Father to the fatherless

Friend to the friendless

Hope for the hopeless

He knows my name

I will praise You

I will praise You

For I am fearfully and wonderfully made

I am not forgotten

Never forsaken

"I Am Not Forgotten" Israel

Ironing things out

I'm afraid I have a confession to make.

I'm using again.

Funny, I had always been proud of the fact that I wasn't a user any more. I had tried it a few times but it consumed my time and left me so dissatisfied.....and yet now, I find myself slinking down to the secluded laundry room to do it in private. It all started up again for me when I recently bought a bedskirt.

Yes, I bought a bedskirt which, as an added bonus, helps to conceal the golden retriever hair clumps that gather under the bed. I put the 'dryclean only' bedskirt into the washing machine, and then the dryer, and it came out really wrinkled. It looked awful and it really needed to be neatly pressed so the pleats would hang nicely and look sharp (while hiding the dog hair). I spent the next 15 minutes trying to find my iron. It was a used iron with a detachable cord that would never stay attached. I would have to keep holding the cord in place in order to keep the iron hot, and I guess that was what cured me forever from using.

I have tidbits of memories of my mother using a huge contraption to iron sheets when I was very young. I was fascinated by it. I cannot believe that I found the exact same machine on the internet on a website dedicated to the history of ironing (mmmhmm....the whereto place for exciting reading - actually, the website is quite humorous to me in places, especially the old advertisements). When I saw these pictures I felt like I flashed back into my childhood - bizarre! I remember that red cardboard tube and I can still smell the freshly pressed sheets, and hear the sounds of the Gladiron as my mom pushed the lever with her knee.

I don't remember the machine in my later childhood. My mother got an iron and....no word of a lie.......I watched her iron underwear. She ironed underwear!!!! She worked full time, managed a household, and ironed underwear and pillowcases and dish towels and men's handkerchiefs (and everyone born after the 70's says, 'handkerchiefs??). Oh you may still see those today if you're a church goer. Some ministers use them to wipe the sweat from their brow after having wiped their nose with it. I would refuse to marry any man who would want to own (and use) a handkerchief and expect me to wash (and iron) it.

So I think my rebel little heart learned young that I would never iron anything I didn't have to. When I married, I proudly bragged that anything that wrinkled would simply go back in the dryer until the wrinkles were gone. There is no place in a busy woman's life for such a time-wasting task on something that is just going to wrinkle again anyways. My kids don't have memories like me of an iron....except for the fall leaf project in elementary school - remember that waxed paper smell of ironing those leaves? If you ever had a rare emergency ironing job after that, the smell of autumn leaves and waxed paper emanated from the iron years later.

.....Back to my search for the old iron..... It must have been my husband who put the iron aside when we did some renovating in the basement. I finally found it in an old 4 quart fruit basket covered in dirt, dust, and cobwebs. I guess he didn't know what it was!

Good for nothing now but the garbage. So, off to Wal-mart I went and bought a new fangled iron with retractable cord. I was so impressed with the job it did on my bedskirt that I went on and ironed a few other things. After all, I wanted to get my money's worth for this new iron. Then I spent hours cleaning out the laundry room (you have no idea how much junk I threw out) to the point that I could permanently set up my ironing board. I knew that if the iron wasn't readily accessible, I would never pull it out again.

Oh the irony.

And so I'm back to being a user. (I'm glad I've aired the dirty laundry.) I have ironed a few of my shirts that I normally accepted as 'supposed' to have the wrinkled look. What a difference. Now people don't look at me with that 'poor woman...she must have slept in her clothes' look in their eyes anymore.

Oh don't be concerned about me. I'm still only an occasional user and plan to stay that way. If I ever do become hardcore, don't you worry. I'll get things ironed out.

Frightful Fireworks

Happy Canada Day!!!!!

Enjoy celebrating the birthday of the greatest country on the planet!!

But could you please cut out the fireworks in our neighbourhood? My dog is going snakey. I was on the computer this evening when the fireworks began.

Here she is. While I was typing, she pushed her way under the computer desk, popped up in front of the keyboard, between my legs...whimpering and shaking in fear....wanting to sit on my lap!

Terrifying mongrel isn't she? One ferocious watchdog. Don't mess with her.

Swan song

Yesterday started out serenely. We had to get our daughter to her church in Toronto for an early meeting, so after dropping her off, we drove to a nearby park and just watched the swans and geese on the lake. I wished I had my camera as the swans pointed their rear ends to the sky while scouring below the water for food (those swans above are taken from my archive of B.C. swans). It was a wonderfully peaceful, contemplative way to start a Sunday morning before church. I asked God while looking out over the lake and beyond to the CN tower and highrise buildings, to stir me inside to what moves His heart, what he wants me to do, and what changes need to happen in me. I find that easy enough to voice but very difficult to really mean because the 'changes' part is often too painful a process.

Back at the church the service began with its usual blend of wonderful worship music among many cultures of friendly people. It was cool to learn that the pastors (a husband/wife team) have asked a couple from halfway around the world to come and be their worship leaders. They had heard them lead worship when they spent time living in Hong Kong, and though they had never met them, they knew one day if they ever started a church, these were the people they would ask to come and lead. This morning this couple led the worship, and will return to Hong Kong for their children and move to Toronto shortly. Very cool.

Today was Graduation Sunday at the church. Each of the kids who is graduating Grade 8 or 12 was called to the front to say a word about their aspirations and then the pastors prayed over each of them separately. Each of these kids receives a $1,000 scholarship free from the church simply to show the church's support for them - that they believe in them and are investing in their future. That amounts to $2,000 each if they attend the church right from grade 8 to 12! That all sounds very generous and very kind. Wonderful gesture indeed.

But as the pastors went from student to student, my daughter whispered something in my ear that I will not share here, but it gripped me and caused me to start blubbering where I sat and I had a hard time maintaining my composure after that. These kids look like ordinary kids on the outside, and I'm sure many in the church are none the wiser. But you can't believe the obstacles they face in their families. Almost every one has no father in their life. Their mothers....I can't even go there. No family support and no real hope for a good future apart from someone believing in them and loving them. It explained why there was a tremble in the pastor's voice as she also fought to keep her composure. She knows their stories intimately. She prayed passionately for each one...blessing for each life and each future, and the knowledge that they are deeply loved. They deserve respect and a future. They matter.

Over their time at this church, some of these kids have also received free trips to camp with free sleeping bags and gifts, meals, school supplies and Christmas gifts. Thank God for people who care and cherish and invest in those who have little hope. The urban poor are all around us though we may not notice it until we take the time to look deeper.

The pastor spoke on becoming a world changer. She had us all say out loud, "I am a world changer." It was difficult for me to say that....not just because I'm a naturally quiet person (and my husband says, 'Whaaat?????)...but because I'm not sure I believe it. She pointed out that it is just ordinary people who God has used to change the world. That leaves me without excuse. I am as ordinary as they come.

I think I need to do a little more swan watching...as long as I don't stay there. There's a world waiting that needs.........me?

As each day passes by,
I feel my love run dry.
I get so weary, worn,
And tossed around in the storm.
Well I'm blind to others needs,
And I'm tired of planting seeds.
I seem to have a wealth,
Of so many thoughts about myself.
I want to, I need to, be more like Jesus.
I want to, I need to, be more like Him.
Our Father's will was done,
By giving us His Son,
Who paid the highest cost,
To point us to the cross.
And when I think of Him,
Taking on the whole world's sin,
I take one look at me,
Compared to what I'm called to be.
I want to, I need to, be more like Jesus.
I want to, I need to, be more like Him.
Remember, there's no greater love,
Then to lay down your life for a friend.
The end of all my prayers,
Is to care like my Lord cares.
My one and only goal,
His image in my soul.
Yes my weakness is revealed,
When by His stripes I'm healed.
He's faithful and He's true,
To complete the work he begins in you.

I Want To Be More Like Jesus - by Keith Green

Birthday Wishes

Where has the 22 years gone since our daughter was born?! I remember agonizing over her turning 4 because she was growing up so fast, and now she has left the teenage years far behind! This year was similar to the year she was born - she arrived on a Monday, the day after Father's Day, making her dad wait a whole year before his first celebration. Yesterday, this little girl whom we released to Toronto 3 years ago (who had always been nervous to board a small city bus), led us (as though she could do it in her sleep, and probably has) through subway stations, on trains, through Union Station and on to the Rogers Centre to watch a rather lacklustre Toronto Blue Jays game. She reminded me on the train..."See Mom. There's other people who stand at the wrong door to get off the subway." ....a subtle reminder of my post of my first subway ride when I wanted to make sure she'd be okay in the big city.

Today I perused my post to her last year entitled, Top Ten Things I Love About My Daughter, and yah, it's still the same. She's still that girl....and more. A year ago, her father and I sat with her in a Toronto restaurant, her eyes growing ever larger as she excitedly poured out the details about a dream her pastor had to build a troupe of kids using their natural talents of rap, dance, singing and break dancing. The whole dream meshed with Bethany's passion to work with kids who have heartbreaking needs, but what a bonus to also travel with them to encourage others to help in the mission! This team would travel with their performances and spread the news of the urban poor and the needs they represent. The pastor had left her with the task of naming this troupe, and so far Bethany wasn't yet content with a name. As we ate, she continued throwing around words. Nothing fit. I don't remember what we were talking about (maybe thunder in the distance??), but she suddenly blurted out 'RUMBLE! Yes!! Rumble!!' And thus Rumble it became, and Rumble they have!

In a few short months the team ballooned larger than they can handle (50!!), practiced in cramped quarters and yet have come up with amazing performances as they are now travelling to various venues with their message. The kids are so pumped for this - it all fits so naturally with what they love to do, and they are experiencing God's amazing love for them in it all. Very cool. The church Bethany belongs to are all about freely giving to people in need - park BBQs, school and Christmas giveaways, etc. - right up her alley. They ask nothing in return, but are rewarded with the friendship of many to whom they have given as they begin connecting with the church family as a result. There are needs everywhere, and Bethany wants to meet as many of them as God provides her opportunity.

And so we are excited with Bethany as she anticipates several new changes and challenges in September. Today we say Happy Birthday Bethany. We are so proud of you and wish you blessings more than you can handle so you can keep on giving them away! We love you!!

Cat or Cockatoo? You choose...

This is why I will never own a cat....



This is why I want a cockatoo....

I mean really.....which is more fun?

Cinderella

Do you have little ones in the house and find yourself rushing your play times with them, their bedtimes and story times? I remember the exhaustion! Steven Curtis Chapman wrote the song (and book), 'Cinderella' in 2007 and since losing his 5 year old daughter two weeks ago, that song is now getting a lot of playtime on the radio. It's got to be heart wrenching for him now to hear that song in his mind. His manager, Jim Houser, wrote this in October 2007:

'I laugh every time I hear Steven share the story of how "Cinderella" was written. And in my work, I get to hear him tell it a lot. When he talks about rushing bath time and rushing story time and, then the pay off when he knows they should pray but he knows the girls will drag it out so he says 'ok, pray, but pray quick, immediate family only!' That always gets a chuckle from me. You'd think being in this kind of proximity to such a prolific writer would mean that I would really "get it." You'd be wrong.
The other night, after a particularly long day at the office, and a long few hours after dinner that night at home I'm embarrassed to admit I was rushing through story time with my three kids. Downstairs the ipod was playing the "Jim's post dinner playlist" and at a certain providential moment, Steven's new song "Cinderella" began to play. As it drifted up the steps within earshot, the reminder washed over me and through Steven's lyric and God tapped me on the shoulder. I felt God impress upon me the thought, "you have less story times than you think left. Better slow down Houser." '

Sober reminder to us all. Love your family and spend quality time with them. These moments are precious. Cherish them.

Listen to the song here. Then go hug your kids.

Addendum to "With Hope"

An addendum to my earlier blog 'With Hope'.......

Jim Houser, Steven Curtis Chapman's manager, writes in his blog of Maria's memorial service.....
"...I too echo Caleb and his wise beyond his years comment, after having the privilege to walk with so many of their family and friends next to the Chapmans through this time, I have never been more convinced that Jesus is real, that the Gospel is true. Despite this tragedy that could seem to contradict He is a good and sovereign God, we know the truth that is on the front of Maria's Memorial Service program! That He has plans for us 'plans for peace and not evil, to give you a future and a hope.' "

It's cool to note that the couple for whom Steven wrote "With Hope" were able to hear his best friend sing that song at Maria's memorial, and to be a source of comfort in response for what Steven had helped them through in similar circumstances.

You can read about the memorial service here.

Sabbath Mode

This morning before church I remembered a story that I thought was very funny. An older couple once told us that they had bought a new stove but at times it acted very peculiar. It would be working fine, and then all of a sudden nothing on it would work. They figured it was just the timer on the oven and tried to adjust all that, but it just wouldn't work. But the next day it would. So they thought everything was fine until a while later the same thing happened. They could not get it to function at all. But the next day it was perfectly fine! They made some phone calls, went to the store where they purchased it, and after speaking with many people they finally got an answer on what was 'wrong' with their stove. The man with the answer said, "You've got it set on 'Sabbath Mode'." Sabbath Mode? What is that? He explained that in strict orthodox Jewish communities these stoves are very popular. You set the stove electronically to Sabbath Mode so that the stove cannot be used to 'work' on the Sabbath. Even if someone in the home tried to use it they wouldn't be able to. With absolutely no disrespect meant to my Jewish friends, I had quite a chuckle out of that. I mean, why don't you just....um....not use the stove on the sabbath? Is the temptation that great and our willpower that little that we need electronic means to prevent us from sinning?

Actually, I know a few people who could use some sort of electronic programming mode that prevents them from going back to the same old habits that drag them down....and others with them!

But I was reminded of a better way in church this morning. We sang,

"Amazing love, How can it be?
That You my King would die for me?
Amazing love, I know it's true,
And it's my joy to honour You,
In all I do, I honour You.
You are my King, Jesus, You are my King."

Gee, if we could get a handle on that one, we wouldn't be struggling so much with stuff we know we shouldn't be doing.........'cause we're gladly serving a King we not only love, but we joyfully honour in all our actions because His love is amazing beyond belief.

Joyful obedience, not out of ritual, but from a heart of love and devotion. 24/7. No Sabbath Mode programming required.

With Hope

Oh how I wish Steven Curtis Chapman did not have to live out these words in his own family that he once penned for someone else ....ache, grief and hope....

We ache and grieve with his family and pray for peace and strength from that precious hope for each one of them.

"This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams
And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no
And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope
(There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan
But through the cloud of tears I see the Father smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and ...

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything God promised us is true, so ...

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope"

With Hope, By Steven Curtis Chapman

Freeze!

There are some moments in time that I just wish I could freeze and stay in that moment for a very long time. Like when my kids were little and said (and sang) all those phrases from a wonderful childlike perspective.

"...Home, home on the range, Where the deer and the ants can go play...." , or

"All things are popsicle, only believe"

I miss all that stuff. Sometimes.

Right now I want to make time stand still and stay in the month of May (but without the ridiculous chill we felt this week, after being spoiled with an extra early spring arrival). Although it's a month of memories of when my Dad passed away, it's still a month I wish would last for at least 3 months so I can drink in the beauty around us.

Remember this????

As much as we complained, all that moisture and insulation has done a world of good and my plants have never looked healthier (except for the grass!).

Stuff I love about May:

Brilliant tulips and creeping phlox.

Woodland trilliums, daffodils, bleeding hearts, and Solomon's seal.

Clouds of Forget-Me-Nots that remind me of my Dad.

Magnificent magnolia trees - those are the ones whose blooms look like giant tulips.

Intoxicating fragance of fruit and crabapple tree blossoms, lilacs, and lily of the valley.

Robin and cardinal songs that wake me before 5 am.

Bumble bees and butterflies.

Green emerging everywhere from what was dead, hard, cold ground.

Warm breezes (except this past weekend!!).

Chipmunks.

And so much more.

Can't we just stop and stay right here for 3 more months with none of that summer humidity that makes us long to bury our face in a snowdrift?

I have one ulterior motive for my longings. I'm eyeing the plague of 65 trillion maple keys just waiting to helicopter their way down and drop over everything we own, in addition to many neighbouring properties. This picture is a teeny shot from two old massive messy maple trees in our backyard. If you think I exaggerate, come and help us rake, sweep and bag them as they completely cover our car, our driveway, our deck, our sidewalks, grass, gardens, and begin to root into little trees everywhere they land. Come enjoy a BBQ on our deck as they fill up your plate and add a mapley essence to your food. While you're at it, you can try to clear your chair of them before you're seated and then continue to pick them out of your hair as we chat. Just shake them out of your clothes and sandals when you leave - better to leave them here with the rest than take them home with you....or worse, begin to sprout in your clothing. When you drive away in your key covered car, you will bless all the neighbours for miles around with a share of our bounty.

I admit it was a totally cool plan that God had to ensure trees repopulated the earth. If I were God (Lord help us all), I would have just allowed about 20-25 keys per maple tree. But I suppose that would bring the wrath of the squirrels who like to eat and store as many of the seeds as they can. More power to them. Less to clean up....about 500 less.

The snow was beautiful indeed...but in my estimation, not nearly as lovely as these...

You had a bad day...

"...you had a bad day....you're taking one down...you sing a sad song....." lalalala la.

This morning I was wondering about how my day was going to go when I hurried out the door late for work and the car alarm told me the gas tank was --empty-- (thank you, son). I made it to the gas station on fumes, put 20 bucks worth in at $1.24 a litre and arrived at work 15 minutes late.

I turned on my computer but although the monitor was on, the screen remained black. I crawled around under my desk ensuring everything was plugged in, then checked all the connections at the back of the computer. Everything looked fine. I turned the power bar off and on and it started up...and then hung there. I repeated this process about 5 times. After a 30 minute wait for IT help, they replaced my computer with a junky one that is used for training but takes forever to load anything. They booted it and it hung so long on one screen that I went for breakfast early and came back and nothing had changed. And so, they replaced that computer with yet another and after having waited 2 hours I was finally up and running again.... although I had no idea where my prints were going as we have several printers around the office. I got plenty of exercise today visiting printers.

Later in the day, we were warned that police would be visiting our facilities because an unhappy individual had threatened to come in shortly with a 10 gauge shotgun. Mmmhmm. All in a day's work. Luckily, he appeared to be all talk and no action.

Well, that wasn't a definition of a bad day - that's as bad as it got. That was just a day with annoyances. Perhaps a bad day or week might be when your kids have chicken pox - I've done the time on that one!

But lately I've been reading stories of the urban poor, and kids across the world whose mothers were brutally murdered before their eyes, and a devastating cyclone where a young boy watched his father swept away from him, and an earthquake wreaking havoc in peaceful neighbourhoods, tornadoes, and stories of bloody wars, and we know this list goes on forever of untold tragedies we have never experienced.

I don't quite know what to do with all this information. The world is so lopsided. I think of it every single night when I lay my head on my pillow and ask God why am I so blessed? Why should I have so much comfort at my disposal when so much of the world suffers tragedy almost too great to bear? What can I do to help? As I go to sleep praying for children I've never met who have no other mother to care about them, I pray that I will find answers to ways to help. To know to do right and not do it is wrong. And to care for people's needs is what God requires of us.

And I'm thinking I have no idea what a bad day is.

Starfield

I was quite excited today that my son gave me the new Starfield CD, I Will Go, for Mother's Day. (I'm hoping I hear some guitar strains wafting through the house from the new songs he learns from the CD!) I had just been talking about Starfield yesterday with someone who had been at their concert recently in Abbotsford B.C. Part way through this rock concert filled with 1,000 people, if you can imagine, lights and scaffolding came crashing down and sent about 40 people through the floor which caved in to the basement 3 metres below. Thankfully, there weren't more hurt but a couple are still in hospital in serious condition. My friend said he was very impressed to watch some members of the Starfield band just jump right in the hole in the floor to help the people that had just fallen through.

I've always liked this band for their attitude and excellent lyrics, and the new CD does not disappoint. Go buy yourself a copy and be encouraged and inspired. Here's a taste....

....."Let me not be blind with privilege
Give me eyes to see the pain
Let the blessing You poured out on me
Not be spent on me in vain
Let this life be used for change
I wanna live for You
Go where You lead me
I wanna follow You..."

"I Will Go", Written by Tim Neufeld, Jon Neufeld, and Allen Salmon

The grass is always greener....

This is what a good part of our front lawn looks like this year.

Too much drought and grubs last season I guess. I'm not one to fuss over a lawn but we kinda had to do something about this lest it fill in completely with weeds. Sure, weeds are green but there is a certain expectation in a neighbourhood that you at least aim for neat and tidy. Besides, there's a mantra going around now by the lawn care companies that lawns are environmentally friendly as they convert carbon dioxide to oxygen, trap pollutants and provide cooling. Or course they don't mention in the same sentence the fact that they spray pesticides on that environmentally friendly turf and that the grass prefers a substantial amount of precious water.

All I know is, the grass provides exercise for my husband while cutting it, provides plenty of reason for me to sneeze in the spring, and provides food for the multiplying rabbits in the neighbourhood, and probably provides grubs for the birds, raccoons, and skunks. The ideal weather for grass growing was slipping away so we decided that we should check out some lawn care companies because this would be no small job. I actually won a year's worth of lawn care many years ago in choosing a slogan for one of these companies...they are still using the slogan. We called them and one other company. They left their quotes in the mailbox...and we left their quotes on our kitchen table. Life has been too busy with much more important things on our mind, and we didn't get around to making a decision until.......we got a repair bill for our second car - $800. That decided it. The evenings are still cool and rain was in the forecast. We would tackle this one on our own.

Last Saturday, we borrowed a truck and my husband got two loads of triple mix soil and began putting piles of it all around the lawn. We were feeling good that there was a nice light rain that would water in the grass seed when we were done. Yes, a nice light rain. I continued raking out the piles of soil as my husband dumped the remainder, cleaned out the truck, and returned it to our friend. It wasn't long before I could feel the pain of blisters forming on the insides of my thumbs under the gardening gloves. (They still hurt!) The rich, crumbly soil was now quickly turning to clods of mud as the rain began to pour down more steadily. My coat was not rain proof. I was drenched to the bone. Water dripped off my baseball cap and off my nose - I couldn't wipe my face or it would be streaked with mud. The piles were actually too large to spread effectively and we didn't have enough to do the whole lawn. I pulled harder and harder on the soil to try to spread it. I squished the mud down with my old running shoes (now trashed) until I literally had an inch of it on the soles and had to keep scraping it off. My arms were aching. I really questioned whether we were wasting our time because how would the seed grow up through all these clods of dirt? I don't know how many hours we worked but for me it seemed an eternity. When the soil was spread as well as we could under the circumstances, I went in the house to peel off my clothes and have a shower. My husband stayed outside to spread the grass seed and then we both watched from inside as the rain began to really pelt down and puddle all over the lawn as the wind picked up. Not the ideal conditions for grass seed to take hold! And now we water daily (if Mother Nature doesn't) and wait.

It can take a lot of sweat and toil to grow something. It's during this difficult time that you want to just pack it in and say it isn't worth it. Nothing will come of it. I'm not doing a good job. The odds are against me. No one cares anyways, so why am I putting myself through this for nothing? My husband has always been one to persevere until a job is done. (His dad taught him that no job is worth doing unless you do it right and stay at it until it is finished). That's why he's a good match for me because I'm the one to give in when the going gets tough. I really hope this has a happy ending and that we at least get some new growth from it. It will be a start and can be improved upon again in the fall.

The following Monday, I was out watering the lawn when a truck dropped off some young men on the street who began going door to door to drum up some lawncare business. A young man approached me, obviously knowing we were trying our hand at planting seed, and offered to aerate the lawn for us. I thanked him but explained that we had no extra money and that we were going to handle the lawn this year. He tried again to offer the aeration services, but I insisted that we really couldn't afford it. He said okay and turned to go. He turned back and said, "Ma'am, could I offer you some advice? Next time", he said, pointing to the crabapple tree now full of leaves and emerging blossoms, "start growing your grass seed earlier in the season before the tree starts leafing out so the sun can get through to the lawn." In that moment I confess I wanted to hit him. Perhaps I should have just let him have it with the sprinkler - by accident of course.

Courage

"Courage doesn't always roar.

Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying,

I will try again tomorrow."

Mary Anne Radmacher

What if?

What if it's Him??

The signs...

Sounds like this weekend will be warmish and springlike. Can't wait. The signs of spring are everywhere.....the Toronto Maple Leafs are out of the playoffs...the Blue Jays are warmin' up.... And here's what I've been observing around the neighbourhood over the last couple of weeks....




Shoots are poking through the snow.



Dozens of robins have been surveying for patches of lawn appearing............


and then snatching up worms. (Who knew worms could be found when the ground's still cold?)




This mourning dove has diligently been gathering nesting materials from my garden and bringing them to this tree. Lord knows we need more doves in the neighbourhood (the hawk agrees).

Chip just woke up from a very long nap beneath all that snow in the front garden. Hope he's grateful for the winter stash I provided.




Olive coloured goldfinches are slowly changing their wardrobes and donning their bright summer yellow jackets.










Cedar waxwings gobble up crab apples but anticipate tasty spring blossoms.



And most notably, RRROLL UP THE RIM TO WIN is winding down with more losses than wins.



Would anyone like my free donut tabs?