Headache

I didn't blog yesterday. It was even my day off but I had appointments and had to plan for a great time with my friends at our Friendship Group last night so the time got away from me.

Today I am not thinking about baseball - maybe another time.

It is freezing cold again and I mistakenly thought there wouldn't be a lot of melting today so forgot to take my antihistamine this morning.  It matters because there is a lot of mould under the snow and when it starts to melt, the spores are released. I have discovered through trial and error that those spores have a pretty negative effect on my wellbeing.  My head feels as if if is stuffed with cotton, my eyes feel like they are bulging out, my nose drips and I am just slow.  Eventually a dull headache takes over.

To add insult to injury, we have wonderful woman at school whose calling is cleaning.  However, lately she is trying some new product and I was at a meeting in a room she had just cleaned.  I don't know all the triggers to my migraines but the scent in cleaning products is almost a sure path to a bout of pain.

Early this afternoon, the perfect storm of snow mould allergy and cleaning product trigger hit. Often when I get in this sort of situation, my thinking processes stop and I don't properly medicate myself. Today, I had the sense to take an antihistamine when I saw the puddles outside and I popped one of the beautiful little pills that usually take away the headache.

Tonight I am pretty much pain free but tired.  Someone once called it a migraine hangover. So the synapses aren't firing too well for this writing thing.  I did the dishes, read my email and now am going to crawl into bed.  Tomorrow will be a much better day.

March Madness

I grew up with two sports - basketball and baseball/softball.  In the winter the focus was basketball and we often attended the home games of Western Christian High School.  My mom played basketball there when she attended in the 1940s!  Tuesday nights and Friday nights we would watch whichever team was at home, either the girls or the boys, Junior Varsity and Varsity.  When I was younger, the excitement was that I got a quarter to spend on treats.  It was enough for a 15 cent pop and either a 10 cent candy bar or bag of popcorn. You couldn't take the food into the gym so I usually didn't go for the popcorn.

I remember way back when I was really young, that the pop came in a big rectangular cooler and the bottles were lined up in metal tracks - almost like a maze.  When you picked your flavor the person selling the drinks had to move it through the track and then pop the lid on a little mechanism on the side of the cooler. The bottles were wet and cold.  Grape Nehi.  Yum.

As I got older, the drinks changed to fountain drinks in wax coated paper cups and the Nehi brand was lost to the Coke brand.  When I started high school, I joined the Pep Club and had to take my turn working in the stand selling all the goodies. The prices went up too.

The games were fun.  My friends and I gossiped and flirted with the boys in the stand and watched the numbers on the scoreboard to know what was going on.  We cheered with the cheerleaders and kept track of fouls.   The finer points of man to man defence verses zone defence were pretty much lost on me.

Its not that my dad didn't try to make me an athlete. He made sure I got to the Saturday afternoon practices when I was in seventh and eighth grade. We also watched the Big 10 conference games later on Saturday afternoons.  The Hawk-eyes against the Wisconsin Badgers or the Michigan Wolverines. Those were fun afternoons but also included a lot of instruction in again the skills of offence and defence.  With my lack of height and lack of eye-hand coordination, my dad's hope of a basketball player were never realized in me but I have come to appreciate a well played game of basketball.

Hank is a March Madness fan.  The games were on for most of the weekend and I watched a few minutes here and there.  But Saturday evening he discovered Iowa State was playing (oops, I forgot). There were only a few minutes left and Iowa managed to come from behind and win in the last seconds.  Like a true Iowan, I cheered for my state, even though it was the Cyclones and not the Hawk-eyes. It was fun and brought back a flood of memories of the good things basketball brought to my childhood.

Tomorrow, I'll write about balls and bats and gloves will come off!

Little Reader

My son sent me this picture of Ollie reading Little Bear to himself and Ryan remembered that Little Bear was one of his first independent reads too.  Its so exciting when you can leave behind the predictable readers at school (there are lots of good ones but they are still readers) and start to pick your own books from the library! Not just books you want someone to read to you but books you can read to yourself.  For all of us that love reading this is such an exciting step.

Little Bear to Magic Tree House to Geronimo Stilton to maybe the Joads!  I hope Ollie finds John Steinbeck someday.    

I have read a lot of books in my life and most of them have come from a public library. I have vague recollections of picking Dr. Seuss books from a small library when I was young.  I read almost every books in the small libraries at the back of my classrooms and I remember checking out books from a surprisingly good selection the town library in Boyden.  I read Arthur Haily's Airport  and  Hotel when I was in Seventh Grade!  I'm sure the librarian and my mom didn't know the steamy scenes in those books. 

I know Ryan and his family use their town's library a lot and that often they have to limit the number of books and DVDs that leave with them. Whatever he picks, I hope Ollie gets to love the life in books as much as his dad.  A legacy worth passing on.

Read good books!

Yesterday I shared with a colleague that I was tired because I read so late the night before and this started a discussion on fiction. I had just reread A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle and told her how much it impressed me.  Immediately her comment was that this wasn't a christian book.  I have to admit I bristled.  I have read a lot of books by Madeleine L'Engle, fiction and non-fiction, children's lit and adult, and she writes in her later memoirs how much having her faith questioned by evangelical Christians pained her. It is a wonderful book written by a thoughtful and intelligent person who is a Christian but Madeleine L'Engle does not write books that would fit into the Christian Fiction section of rapidly disappearing bookstores or that drop down menu in Amazon.

I cringe when the term Christian is used as the first filter for choosing a novel. It is condescending and assumes that the Spirit working with in us is ineffective. When I read a novel I want to be entertained but also I want to be challenged in my world view. If I read only what I perceive to be safe or what is labeled safe by others, how will I grow?  How will I gain insight into the opinions of others that may differ from mine but still deserve my respect and consideration?

I can think of many authors and books that have had an influence on me and how I view the world. From Gone With the Wind to I'll Love You Forever  by Robert Munsch.  I wept over Katherin Paterson's Bridge to Terabithia and couldn't put down Winds of War  by Herman Wouk. I have read and reread the books of Carol Shields, Roberson Davies and Marilynne Robinson and learned a lot of the heart of the aboriginal community through In Search of April Raintree and the deeply thoughtful books by Joseph Boyden. Other titles and authors just keep rolling through my mind.  They have all shaped me and helped me grow as a person and a follower of Christ, even if they did not themselves have a christian world view.

We need to be careful but we do not need to be fearful.  All good literature is searching for the the truth and with the help of the Spirit we will be able to discern this truth in what we read. Or be dismayed at the opposite.  There is so much powerful and beautiful prose in our world, lets keep reading it, sharing it and growing from it.  Its another great blessing from the Word.

Bless the little ones

It had been a long day which was lengthened a bit by having an enjoyable dinner with my daughter-in-law.  Getting home at 8:00 isn't normal for me and I still have to bake something to take to school tomorrow.  So when I saw the message light on the phone blinking I groaned inwardly.  I don't know why I dislike listening to voice mail but I do. I punched in the buttons and then heard, "Hi Grandma.  I was just wondering how you were doing. Bye."

I stopped smiled and actually teared up a bit. My grandson is a very concerned and considerate boy.  Its always nice to know some one is thinking of you and to know they care.  I felt sad because it was too late to call him back and I haven't had the chance to celebrate the loss of his second tooth.  I have been blest with many little ones in my life from dear nieces and nephews to the vulnerable students I work with and I love them all in a special way but I had no idea how much my four grandkids would come to mean to me.  It is truly a special relationship.

I also felt sad because I have to bake tonight because of a tragedy in the Winnipeg area.  On Monday most of us in the city and surrounding area stopped and were silent when we heard that a young girl was mauled to death by the dogs of a family friend, pets she had played with.  I can't bring myself to even try to comprehend the sorrow and the horror - my mind and my heart just won't go there. But today someone at work sent out an email that her mother knew the family and was arranging the baking for the funeral. Would we help.

I signed up immediately.  Its like laying flowers on a sidewalk, its something I can do.  Any death makes us feel helpless but especially the death of a child.  We pray, we talk, we shake our heads but we really want to do something.  Will brownies help ? Not the family.  But they may help me. I'll bake and I'll pray.  Bless this poor grieving family but also bless my precious crew of little ones. Keep them safe and protected.  There are no guarantees but there is also no where else to put my trust.  That's a good thing.

Lord, bless all the little ones, whether we are grown up or not.

Day off

I just not feeling deep or profound tonight. I was home most of the day because I have Tuesdays off this year.  I slept in, made some good coffee and read the paper.  I almost got the New York Times Crossword filled in perfectly and caught up on some email.  I did the laundry, had lunch, made some plans for my Friendship group and finished rereading A Wind in the Door by Madeleine L'Engle.  I had forgotten how deep and profound she is. She makes me want to look into physics. I wonder if kids are still reading her books.

I went to my massage therapist for my monthly tune up.  He hurts me but in the end it helps the headaches stay away so its worth it.  He works out of his home just down the block so I catch up on the news of his family and often others in the neighbourhood.  Came home and made a pot of Tuscan Soup - HOT Italian sausage, potatoes, kale and beans.  Then off for a hair cut and home for our dinner of soup and whole wheat buns.

The laundry is folded, the bed remade, the dishwasher running. Hank is gone to another meeting so I have a quiet night too.  That was my lovely day.

Going Home 2

Hank and I spent the weekend in Iowa with my mom.  I kept saying to my colleagues that I was going home for the weekend.  I must have sounded like an ancient college student but even though the house I remember as a child no longer exists and the house my parents built when I was in high school no longer houses a family member and mom left behind the house in town where my kids went to visit Gramdpa and Grandma for a 55+ apartment about 18 months ago, I went home.

As we walked across the parking lot, we met one of my mom's gang.  This is a group of women who have known each other for a long time and in the past 10 years they all have lost their spouses.  Two of them, their second husbands.  They play games once a week and a group of them goes out for dinner most Saturday nights.  Loneliness seems to be a part of the aging process but they all really appreciate the companionship that their ongoing friendships bring. I got a big hug from Joyce.  "Boy is your mom excited that you are here."

Then we walked past the room in the senior's apartment where there is always a puzzle on the go and my mom's former neighbour was at work.  "Is that Carol!  I need a hug."

It was good to see Mom.  She isn't walking well and experiences pain in her hip but her mind is sharp and she was fun to be with.  We watched the boys basketball team from my old high school win the state championship - again.  Something we never thought would happen when I went to Western Christian High School forty some years ago!  We went to get her new glasses, visited an aunt and uncles and bought some new clothes.  We were her out for dinner group on Saturday night.  It was a good visit and I know she enjoyed it.

I left Hull almost forty years ago but as I walked around the I constantly heard echoes from my past.  A former high school friend was dispensing in the pharmacy and she wondered how I survived the cold winter in Canada.  At church on Sunday, I connected with cousins and friends and friends parents.  It seems that even when you grow up and move on and form a life in another country, you still belong to the soil in Sioux County.  I felt connected.  It felt like home.

Going Home 1

I love our house. We moved to Winnipeg in 1988 and lived quite unhappily in another house for about 18 months.  I really thought that you could be anyway with your family and the house would be OK but that didn't work out with our first place.  It just didn't suit our family and the lay out of the house kept making us frustrated to we took a financial loss and ended up finding our Hazel Dell Home.

This house has been a blessing to us since we first stepped into it and once we found it, we also fell in love with Winnipeg.  It's in a neighbourhood - The Fraser's Grove area.  We are surrounded by giant American Elms and are only a block from the Red River so we really live in a park. The neighbours are friendly and don't move much so we look after each other. We've watch each other's children grow up and our grandkids now trick or treat at our neighbours because they remember Ryan, Kayla and Scott knocking at their doors.

The house was built in 1949 and was only a year old when the Great Flood of 1950 hit Winnipeg.  It was filled with water up to the window sills on the main floor and we have an interesting horizontal crack that runs through our kitchen because of the repairs done to it after that.  We have had ceilings fall because of water melting from the attic,a flooded basement in 1993 due to sewer back-up and various other minor catastrophes that are the bane of all homeowner.  The best thing we ever did was had our sunroom about ten years ago and it has become the new hub of our family gatherings for the warm part of the year. And for all who know our driveway, I only hit the tree once.

Best of all, it is a haven.  We have weathered many storms in our dear house.  Tragic deaths, depression and the worry of sick friends and grandkids.  But there have been joys too.  Engagements, weddings, Christmases and just the everyday blessings that keep us all going. We just love to be home.  Its safe and comfortable and often after a busy week the only place we want to be.

I was thinking about this as we drove to Iowa this weekend.  I love going home to my Winnipeg home but I was excited to go home to Iowa too.  Homes.  A good thing to think about for awhile.  I am thankful that I have known safe homes all my life.

Dry

The well in my brain seems dry tonight.  I have started several times but nothing is coming together.  I may have to accept that fact that some days, the words aren't going to flow into something profound or funny or even interesting. Part of the problem is that I have school things on my mind and I just don't feel comfortable musing about the ups and downs of the students I work with.  If I try, I spend so much time trying to hide the situation in vague language that the story doesn't come through and the lesson I learned gets lost in ambiguity. I think tonight I need to think and muddle through some of the concerns from school. Tomorrow I will try again.

Syrian children

Willow came over this morning while her mom volunteered in her brother's kindergarten class. She showed me how she can now write all the letters in her name - not always in order but they are there. She can now reach light switches and wash her hand in the bathroom sink without a step stool.  She loves all the princesses in Disney Princess Candyland but always lets me be Snow White. And we finished the morning snacking on brownies we had made and watching her favourite movie, The Wizard of Oz.  She is a happy, bubbling, growing three going on four year old.  A precious time for all children but especially lovely if you are the grandparent.

I opened Facebook when she left and found a post from World Renew, the relief arm of the Christian Reformed Church, advertising a drawing contest for the children to help them think about the children of Syria.  Trying to make our North American children aware of the struggles and needs of other children in so much distress so far away may be difficult because we as adults try to forget about it. But I am sure that there is somewhere in Syria or in some neighbouring refugee camp a delightful little three going on four year old girl who can't play games or bake or just share a fun time with her grandma. That life quickly flew away three years ago.  It breaks my heart because the Syrian conflict isn't the only place in the world where lives have been destroyed by geo-political goings on.

I am going to remember to say special prayers on March 15 for the Syrians and keep reminding myself of the other places too.  I am going to check out some opportunities to contribute to education for refugee children and I am going to hug my close by grandkids and call my far away ones. Life is fragile and often short so its important to do what we can and appreciate those who are close.

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.