Guilt

A week ago I made the announcement that I was going to write in this blog every day for the season of Lent.  Ha! I forgot on Saturday and just decided not to do it on Sunday.  It isn't the writing that is so hard, its the probing the corners of my mind and sorting through all the things I want to write about. I can find things to say, I just need to force myself to focus on just of of many things at a time.  Guilt has been on my mind today.  I thought I would feel guilty if I didn't keep up the writing but I don't.  At an earlier time in my life I would have but I think that losing the power of guilt on my life is one of the joys and benefits of getting older and gaining wisdom.  

We read parts of the Heidelberg Catechism on Sunday so I was reading further along tonight and came to Question and Answer #56.   

 

What do you believe concerning "the forgiveness of sins"?

I believe that God,

because of Christ's atonement,

will never hold against me any of my sins

nor my sinful nature

which I need to struggle against all my life.

Rather, in his grace

God grants me for righteousness of Christ 

to free me forever from judgement.

(taken from The Psalter Hymnal of the Christian Reformed Church, 1987)

None of my sins will ever be held against me!  I mess up.  I did mess up my promise to write but its alright. I get a do-over.  Again and again.  Some would call this cheap or easy but you see, I am back tonight writing.  Thinking about why I didn't continue on the weekend and feeling guilty about it would have had me stuck in myself,  sorry for myself because I am so awful.  But that's the wrong direction for me to look.  I need to look out, to actually look up, up to Jesus.  He makes it worthwhile for me to try again because if I mess up again, no worries, I can try again and he will help me get it right. 

I saw this twice today with students.  Announcing their misdeeds makes them feel bad but it doesn't change their behaviour. Telling the parents about how their children had NOT had a green card all day just made the students discouraged.  They were never good enough. Their behaviour got worse because there was no hope.  Guilt put them further into themselves.  So I hope today, we set a new path.  Lets use some tools so make sure that they have better days at school and if it isn't a good day, what happens at school, if it doesn't hurt someone, stays at school.  Tomorrow is a new day and hopefully with the help of older and wiser helpers, it will be a better day.

Guilt sucks up hope and we can't live or thrive without hope.  Jesus did what he did because I can't live with out making a mess of things. Because of him, I can get rid of guilt and go boldly forward with hope.  

Canada Reads

I was raised in Iowa but at 20 moved to Canada with my brand new husband (Wow! were we young!) and have lived here for 38 years.  In 2003 I became a citizen but had been a Canadian for much longer. I belong north of the 49th.  Its had to explain but one example of why I love it up here is Canada Reads; the yearly CBC contest where well known Canadians debate five Canadian novels. In the end one is chosen as the story all Canadians should read. The book that is voted off the island each day is announced on the CBC National News.  National News!  And a lot of Canadians care. I can check with friends across the country if they are planning to read The Orenda  and ask them what they thought of the debate.  I guess its the unifying factor of national broadcasting. But it is also the fact that as a country, the value of the arts, the worth of exploring difficult topics through fiction is accepted and appreciated.

The Long Winter

As a child, I loved the Little House Series by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I read every book several times but The Long Winter left lasting images in my mind.  Especially poor blind Mary twisting straw so that the family could stay warm.  Maybe the roots of my affection for those with disabilities starts here.  I was proud of her that she could help the family when it was so needed.

Well, the winter of 2013-2014 is a nasty one too. It is the winter of cold cold temperatures with extreme windchills alternating with warmer but snowy and blustery days.  Often I have reminded myself that at least we aren't the Wilders!  We have a warm house, a good car and plenty of food available. What is lacking is a place to put all the snow!

But there are hardships.  The frost line is so deep that water mains are breaking by the dozens - even closing a major mall.  But even more disconcerting is the fact that 677 houses in Winnipeg do not have running water and the list is growing. The pipes have frozen and the prediction is that the frost may not thaw until June so there is no quick fix.  Three city crews are trying to thaw the pipes but its a slow process and they can't make much of a dent.  Other homes are being told to run water so keep their pipes free - probably until June.  I am thankful that so far we have running water along with our warm house, good car and plenty of food.

The interesting thing is that there is a lot of grumbling about what the City is not doing - clearing the streets soon enough, clean enough, without leaving snow rubble in your already cleared driveway, not giving enough warning of watery roads and of course, not getting the water running!  No matter how many taxes we pay, politicians and civil servants are no match for the weather. I am tired of it all but today I have running water and I am not twisting straw to stay warm.

Tonight I'm going to find my copy of The Long Winter  and snuggle up with a hot chocolate!

Ash Wednesday

When Kayla sang with the Winnipeg Youth Chorus so many years ago, I used to be jealous of the Catholic kids who came to the Wednesday night choir rehearsals on Ash Wednesday.  They still had the cross on their foreheads from an early mass or a celebration at their school.  I never asked.  I was raised in the Christian Reformed Church, a Calvinist denomination with its roots in Holland. The Dutch are not frivolous and I grew up going to services that focused on the Word through sermons with a good dose of congregational singing accompanied by a pipe organ.  Even the stained glass windows in my childhood church were shapes and not pictures. As an adult, even after planning services that included more visuals and lighting advent candles and special sights for Easter, I was drawn to that small dark smudge.  It involved the feel and smell of ashes, the act of a priest applying it and the realization every time you looked into a mirror that it was there.

The mark of Ash Wednesday is ancient and carries a weight of tradition. It probably started as a good idea by a priest who wanted his illiterate congregants to remember their need for a Saviour. If you grew up having to go to mass on Ash Wednesday and probably were embarrassed by it,  the sign may not mean much anymore.  Good intentions often lose their meanings and purpose over time as they become mundane and expected. But to me, the ash cross is surprising, unusual and unknown. I am illiterate in the rhythms of the church year and the novelty draws me in.

So today I do not have an ashen cross on my forehead.  I just went to work and came home in blustery snow. But I do know that there must be people somewhere with a cross on their forehead.  I hope they are looking at their lives and remembering why we needed Jesus to come.  I am going to take the time to do that too.

Writing for Lent

I haven't looked at my blog since 2009.  5 years!  That's a long time in the lives of friends and family. I changed jobs, had 2 more grandchildren added to our family; one of whom we almost lost to a heart defect.  We are so thankful for him and for the miracles of modern medicine. The other was a little girl so like her mother that it is uncanny.  We said good-bye to a dear friend and just recently Hank's mom. The grave is a bitter place.

In more mundane areas, we bought a new vehicle that pulls a small trailer and redid the kitchen.  These things were long time dreams that we said we wanted before we retire and suddenly that word, that concept is crossing our  minds and our lips.  When people ask us when we will retire and Hank and I both shrug.  Our occupations, our callings as teachers, as caregivers to other people's children have defined us for so long, its hard to think past the immediate needs to when we will gladly them over to someone else. That's the tricky part. Are we still needed or are we standing in the way of an opportunity for service for someone else? In our life together, we have always just done what we thought needed to be done and when the time for change came, it was pretty obvious it was time to do something like move to Winnipeg twenty five years ago or for me to change jobs just a few years back. So we are just going to keep working for the next few years and when it is time, I think we will know.(Or our kids will tell us!)

One of my longest held dreams has always been to have more time to write and share my thoughts with others. Sometimes the needs of the kids I work with get in the way but sometimes it is Facebook or Candy Crush or the New York Times Crossword book I always have around.  Or a call from my sister or hanging out with my grandkids. Today is a day like that.  A cup of coffee with Kayla and Willow this morning and then plans to make some bread but I am out of flour and that is one thing I will not walk to the store to get. So I am left with a quiet afternoon in this long and bitter winter.  Shrove Tuesday.  The day before Lent so what better time for a little introspection.  Do I give something up for Lent?  Why would I? Why wouldn't I? I went through the list but realized I don't need to stop anything, I need to get busy and start something!

So I am going to write something here every day of Lent.  I have no idea what.  It may be profound or funny or short.  But it I am ever going to really write, I have to write. So here we go!  I hope a few people will come along.

Picture

I have never loaded a picture to my blog. I am a digital immigrant and it just seemed like something I could live without knowing. So I decided to try today. It fits the title of this blog. But see the tree on the right right of the picture? I wrote a thing about it for our church paper last month. I'll just publish it here. You might like it.

Our neighborhood is known for its trees; tall arching boughs that create a green canopy over the streets in the summer and in winter the bare branches stand guard as you drive down the snowy path. In the fall, the kids pile the leaves over the entire width of the street and encourage oncoming cars to charge through, creating a whirlwind of yellows, red and browns. And in spring, you just want to stand and look up at the gentle green leaves once again filling out the bare limbs above. We love our trees.

Three of these trees have roots in the little plot of the area that is our yard. The back is really the regal abode of a giant American elm. It majestically towers above, shielding our house, the garage and even part of the lane from the sun. It takes three people, holding hands to encircle its trunk. This is a hard tree to love intimately. This is a tree you respect and hold in awe.

In front we have our second elm and this is the one most people fear. It was planted too close to the edge of the lawn and now turning into or backing out of our driveway requires caution. It guards the entrance to our place boldly and from the large scar that has developed on its side, it is a testament to how many side mirrors and even a few doors have lost their encounters with it.

The third tree is my favourite – a mountain ash. It isn’t as tall as our elms. It doesn’t offer as much shade but it seems to have a sense of humor. Its narrow leaves are arranged in palm like fans and shimmer in the breeze. In the early spring there are lovely white flowers that attract bees and later turn into berries that are the source of food for many migrating birds in the fall. Chickadees often come back in the winter to clean the last fruit from the tree and we have seen squirrels doing acrobatics to get last ones from the end of a very slander twig. Watching the urban wildlife in this tree is a National Geographic special on an intimate and personal level

But in the fall this mountain ash frustrates me. You can find the full foliage color range from green to yellow to orange to red to brown on the mountain ashes down the street. With the bright orange berries hiding among the leaves, they are some of the prettiest trees in the fall. But for some unknown reason our tree stays green for weeks after the other trees have changed color. When the others have finally dropped their leaves and they are safely bagged or composted, our tree will finally start to show some yellow in the upper branches. Then when the hard frost comes and often the first snow, all the leaves in this tree turn a single shade of brown and fall in patches on the white blanket of snow. Its messy and well, just untimely. I love my mountain ash for the whole year but it really frustrates me in the late fall. Why can’t it just do what all the other mountain ashes do?

Who knows? It might be because we are the lowest spot on the street and it might just get more moisture. Or its roots are growing into our sewer lines. Maybe our soil is missing some special mineral. It might just be a late color changer. Whatever. It is our mountain ash and we need to take it just as it is. So I will enjoy it all year and next October or November when it drops its brown leaves on top of the snow again, weeks later than its peers, I’ll just smile and think. “Yes, that’s our mountain ash. I’m sure glad its here.”

Weather

I live in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Its a cold place in the winter - its in Canada! So why are all of us so surprised every year when it gets cold? Now, we just came through a particularly nasty cold spell that had weather people quoting windchills with some pretty terrible sounding numbers. School buses didn't run and many rural schools cancelled classes for safety reasons. And I have to admit that I was a little grouchy about this because my dear husband had the opportunity for some PD time in Arizona - the exact 4 days of the worst cold. But in reality, I live and work in very warm buildings with good furnaces. We have a dependable car that I drove into a garage at the end of the day and on those cold nights, I plugged it in so that it started right up in the morning. Really, the effect the cold had on my life was much more of an inconvenience than a hardship so why all the whining? I'm not going to do that next time its so so cold. From now on I am going to be thankful for the things that keep me and my loved ones warm and for the beautiful blue skies and snow covered trees that sparkle in the sun on those frosty days.