The First Time I Watched TV

We did not have a TV when I was a child, living in Uruguay, but our Spanish neighbors had one. I was about 5 years old when Billy Graham came to our city. I remember this partly because there was talk about watching the crusade on TV where my dad would be singing in the choir. I'm not sure if it was live television or televised at a later time, but I feared for his life because I knew that people on TV got shot . . . and I did not want my dad to be the next target.

Now, I’m not sure if I had seen a Western show, in passing, as I played with my friend next door, or the exact reason I linked TV with shooting. I tend to think that it had something to do with President JF Kennedy's assassination. I did not yet understand all of the specifics but I remember that news - realizing a very important man had been shot and killed. This was true, because it was shown on TV.

A Welcome Bathroom

Did you know that you may get some funny looks if you ask for directions to the washroom of an American? You can say restroom or bathroom, but not washroom. Why would you call it that? Why do Canadians use so many words? Honestly, I can think of a few more.

All this to say that I'm trying to use the right words more often, even though we do live in Canada.

Few things say “welcome here” more loudly than a prepared meal, and a clean bathroom. When we travel and stay in a hotel, one of the first things I do is check to see how the bathroom looks. I’m happy when I see the shower curtain is freshly laundered and the tiles are spotless. Okay . . . they get paid for it . . . but, when we have guests, we can also show that we have put some thought into our preparations.
Every once in a while I check the shower curtain in our guest bathroom. It may just be the liner that needs some attention. You can get a new one or just throw the one you have into the machine. Add some towels, some detergent and a little bleach or ammonia (1/4 cup) and wash on gentle setting. To dry the curtain quickly and get the wrinkles out, throw one or two dry towels in with it and dry on low heat or air only for 10 minutes. Remove immediately and hang.

When you grab the brush to swish through the toilet, take a look at the brush . . . I don't really look at it from week to week . . . but this may the the time to pick up a new one. Clear unnecessary things that have gathered on the counter – a basket stored underneath can still allow for quick access. Replace an empty spot with some flowers and hang your best towels for guests. Simple enough.

Believing God

Four years ago I joined a Beth Moore Study at church. In each session we watched a video followed by some interaction and sharing of what we had learned in our homework.

Last week I got out my workbook/journal we worked out of and began to go through it on my own again. I’m wondering if what I learned is a tad more active in my life now than it was then?

At the time I did this study, called Believing God, we had been through some difficult years in which my belief had been challenged. Life was not turning out how I would have planned it. Maybe it is during those times that we either question or solidify what we actually believe.
So, my plan is to go through and highlight the essence of what “believing God “ looks like, since it is the heart of Christianity.

I wish to clarify that this devotional is not about getting you to believe in God. I’m assuming that most people believe that there is a God. Rather, this is about a continuation, an ongoing, life experience. Beth tells us in her introduction that she has become convinced that we see so little of God because we believe Him for so little.

If this study causes me to become more aware of God in my daily life and to recognize Him as He leaves visible prints, then it will be time well spent. The challenge will be to begin my days with expectation and to end them, remembering.

A Story on Forgiveness

I thought I was done with my quota of thoughts for the week, but then I read this book . . . thoughts of which are strewn about in my mind, calling to be written out in order to process what I have actually read.

Think No Evil is the story about the tragic Amish Schoolhouse shooting in a peaceful Lancaster village a few years ago. Jonas Beiler and Shawn Smucker draw the reader into the everyday life of the Amish culture and faith, a faith that remains firm in the most tragic of circumstances. It is a story of such startling contrasts that one can't help but be impacted by it.

On October 2, 2006 Charles Roberts followed through on his pre-meditated plan to board up an Amish schoolhouse, tie up the girls and shoot them one by one before killing himself. It was an act done by a man who'd never been wronged by these people nor had he shown any kind of malice toward them, prior to this event. He was a family man who loved his wife and children.

The only hint at his motive was left in a note wherein he described the hate and emptiness he had experienced ever since the death of his baby girl.

The profound irony in this story lies in the fact that it was an unforgiving and bitter heart that led a man to do something that brought out the best in the people affected. Although the Amish are not a people who seek recognition for anything, their desire was that people would understand the reason for their hope and forgiveness. A heart decision not only to forgive, but to reach out to the widow and her children.

Could it be that in offering forgiveness and friendship, these people came to see a pain beyond their own as they entrusted themselves to a God who judges fairly and comforts those in need?

We live in a world where we feel the need to pay back evil for evil, not realizing that it can hold us in a trap of emotional anguish. In contrast, in the pages of this book we see the lasting strength and benefits in choosing to forgive.

For You

On Monday I did not want to take away from Kristal's 3oth Birthday . . . so I postponed this post a bit . . . however it was on that same day that we also celebrated our 35th Anniversary. I can't help but say that I used to think that people who were married 25 years were old!

I came across this song (posted at the bottom) and tears flowed as I listened . . . I know it's just me . . . although I had never heard this particular song, it's from the era that we dated . . . and I guess that is what makes us kind of old . . .

To borrow words from Amy Grant, it's not a song, till it touches your heart . . . this John Denver song touched my heart because of the memories of first love . . . days of listening to 8-track in the '67 Firebird, planning for our future, dreaming. To look at our dreams from this end now . . . is a feeling that is hard to describe.

To my H . . . we've built houses . . . but where you are is my home. We've raised children . . . but it's you that has stayed. We've laughed . . . we've fought . . . we've had sweet times and hard times . . . but I've come to realize that if it were not for you . . . the sunrise and the sunset . . . the daily grind and mundane tasks . . . the celebrations . . . the past nor the future . . . would have much meaning . . . because I love you.

Happy Thirtieth, Kristal

It was a Saturday morning . . . I was nearly 39 weeks pregnant . . . and ready to be done with it, when I realized it may just be the end. I quickly threw a load of essentials, such as Julene’s favorite blanket, into the wash and packed up the things she would need to stay with her cousins.
We arrived at the hospital around noon feeling rather like it may all just be a false alarm, but I was admitted and that evening, about 8:30, another little daughter was placed into my arms. I remember looking into your face, in total awe . . . and so very happy!

We brought you home and soon you shared a room with your sister, who just adored you and tried to sing you to sleep when you cried. You wanted to be a big girl quickly, doing most things before we had a chance to even teach you, it seemed. This trait was emphasized when you became a big sister to a baby brother.

By the time we enrolled you for Kindergarten, you could hardly wait to join your sister on her walk to the school down the street. You made friends easily and sometimes tried my patience with your many social plans.

It was hard to keep you busy enough . . . violin lessons began in Kindergarten, PMCC Choir was added a few years later and piano too . . . then somewhere, in-between practices, lessons, doing homework, choir trips, braces and playing with friends . . . you became a teen-ager.

. . . and the days picked up speed . . . with school, extra curricular activities, friends and church. Often times, disappointments and joys were shared within the small space of our car . . . the place that seemed like an extension of our family room in those days. You did us proud, Kristal, by the choices you made, even though they were not always easy.

After high school we drove you down to Oregon for college. It was then that you showed us how our little girl had turned into a young lady who truly cared about others. Part of my heart stayed there with you as I could hardly wait for you to come home again.

A few years later, we saw you get your first car and head off to Azusa to sing in the choir and finish your degree. We enjoyed our trips down there, as we had often driven by that university to head to our favorite holiday destination.

I remember the call that came one day . . . the call to tell us about the special young man you'd met . . . and we went down again . . . to meet him, of course.

You were married within the year . . . which should not have surprised us by that time . . . and then graduated with a different name than the one you had enrolled with.

One of your dreams came true when you became a mommy a few years later. Again we flew down, arriving at the hospital on the same day she was born. We've repeated this several times now . . . to share in the joy with you.

Your life has added so much to ours! You have challenged us, encouraged us, and blessed us in ways we never would have dreamed. Your choices have given us many opportunities and excuses to travel and to see life and the world from another perspective. We are so proud of the young woman you have become! Ever beautiful and caring!

Happy Thirtieth Birthday, Kristal Erin!

Sending love and hugs today . . . Mom and Dad

How Long?

One of my favorite things about Fall has been the donning of some old comfy sweater or getting a new one! I love turtlenecks, cowl necks, soft, hugable feeling sweaters.

Something has stressed me out this Fall . . . it’s the fact that I can hardly even think about opening that drawer, for fear that I won’t get that sweater off quick enough. It seems to have to do with something called Menopause.

What is this all about? What is this heat going through my body like I’m steaming in a sauna? These days I'm keeping one foot out from under the cover. I’m blow drying my hair before I get dressed. Camisole type tops and lightweight sweaters that button down are my friends. And in the evening, I snuggle up to my hubby, watching TV, one minute and hurl off the fleece throw the next . . . but keep it where I can see it. He says, “Are you hot? I know you are.”

I’m looking at this word . . . menopause . . . is the main part the “pause”? If so . . . how long is this pause? I asked my mother and she does not know what I’m talking about. She’s of the generation where her doctor prescribed some magic pills when she was in her forties and she swallowed them for twenty five years. She asks . . . why don’t you take something? I wonder . . . if I take something . . . how will I know when the pause is over?

I thought I could just breeze through this timely event, especially since women tend to belabor these kinds of issues. But, with every heat wave, my resolve is weakening. Is there life after the Pause? Or is that the time we throw shawls over our shoulders and blankets over our knees as we get wheeled down the corridor to the dining hall?

The Art of Hand Writing

As you can tell from the poem above, my grandfather, the only grandfather I ever knew, had beautiful handwriting! I always loved how his capital letters had extra twirls and just looked
like they were drawn, rather than just written.

I used to take more pride in how I write . . . what I mean by that is that I was able to focus better . . . but I find that I don't really enjoy writing any more. In fact, I get frustrated that it takes too long and takes concentration to make it look nice, or even legible. I much prefer the quickness of the keyboard where I can delete when necessary and actually think with my fingers. At least that is what it almost feels like.

Makes me wonder . . . what will become of handwriting? . . . or will we continue to appreciate those little handwritten notes and cards? When I really think about it, handwritten words may require a little more effort, but somehow they still convey a special message.

I appreciate how everyone has their own unique style of handwriting, which in itself is a part of the message. A person's handwriting is a part of them, as much as the color of their eyes or the way they walk . . . and such a beautiful reminder of the one who wrote the note . . . no matter the style or how it looks.

With Thanksgiving

Okay . . . the cat’s been let out of the bag . . . if you have come from the MGCC blog, you know of the excitement shared amongst us cooks. Usually, it is the people invited to a meal that are blessed . . . today it is the cooks who are celebrating. Celebrating the joy of sharing not only food or recipes but, in many ways, our lives.
We have worked hard during the summer months choosing and perfecting recipes, then learning how to submit our finished work and now we wait for the publisher to do their work. This joy of seeing the beginning of a new dream come true is something near the top of my list to give thanks for today. I can hardly believe this is something I get to be a part of! In case you have not seen the link, you can click here.

It is interesting how we set aside a day to give thanks. I’m glad we do. However, I wonder, how our world would change if we decided to practice a thankful attitude in daily life?
There is a story in the Bible where 10 lepers begged Jesus for mercy. Jesus sent them to show themselves to the priests, but as they went they were healed. One came back to give thanks to Him and Jesus asked, “weren’t ten men healed? Where are the other nine?” (Luke 17: 13-18)
When I look at God’s Word, we are repeatedly encouraged to give thanks . . . even in our prayers . . . to pray with thanksgiving.

Tomorrow, October 12, would be my dad’s birthday if he were still with us and I’m reminded of something that I learned from him. It is to have a thankful attitude. Although he grew up under difficult circumstances, and . . . maybe because of it . . . he never allowed us to begin eating without first giving thanks to God and we could not leave the table before thanking the person who prepared the meal.

This applies to so much in life. In good times, a thankful attitude keeps us from feeling like we are self-made. In hard times, it can keep us from going deeper and deeper into a place of total self pity. A thankful spirit allows for friends to come alongside of us and be encouraged as well.
Today I give thanks for my family, for my friends, and for you . . . to my Father in heaven who has provided me with all I need and so much more!

Can't Tell!

The cat's got my tongue . . .

and . . .

my mouse too, for that matter.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

I asked Amy Shrock permission to use this photo from her blog. It was exactly what I was looking for. Thank you, Amy!

A Tradition

One of the Mennonite traditions we still enjoy is Zwieback with jam and cheese.

and I have decided that making these buns and calling them by their name is something I'd like to pass on . . . especially since the grands love them.

So, without further adieu, as you can tell, it's never too early to start.

Makenna enjoys rolling and patting

and giving them that extra pinch or push.

Jam sandwich is one of the first things she asks for when she gets up in the morning, when she wants a snack, lunchtime. after nap time, dinner time and pretty well 'anytime' time.

Last Date - Second Time

The Greater Vancouver Zoo derives its name from the fact that it is situated in the Greater Vancouver area, namely Aldergrove. Like many zoos today, its focus is to preserve and protect endangered species, providing a spacious, natural environment for animals. The setting provides educational opportunities that inspire appreciation and concern about wildlife and wild places. Visiting this park, especially with kids, is a refreshing experience.

Initially we visited this zoo in 2004, just before Chris and Jules headed to Indonesia for the first time. At that time it was our last little date with only Tehya . . . and I had a hard time keeping myself together as I held onto our two year of granddaughter. With this memory in mind, roaming through the park-like setting this time was like a view into the past and seeing the future with three happy and well adjusted kids in tow. The weather was beautiful and the changing colors of the season added to it. Tehya, Paeton and Makenna ran from one animal's turf to another . . .

delighting in seeing the mamas and babies and families roaming about.

The Zoo provides a narrative Safari bus ride through one area where black bears and wolves live together and then into another habitat where the elk, white tailed deer and bison roam about. We enjoyed the tales told by the bus driver.

Our feathered friends also displayed their beautiful colors. Some of them roamed freely on the paths where we walked. Paeton picked up a multi colored feather dropped by a peacock, which he later gave to me.

One more day came to an end and another memory was made. It was a date that brought a strange kind of contentment and joy as I observed my visible blessings.

It is a nice surprise to find that last times can repeat themselves and bring about an inexplainable sense of healing. We stopped at MacDonald's for supper and brought home some tired but happy kids.

Redeeming the Time

As the plane is heading across the Pacific and the distance between us is growing by the hour, I’m sitting here remembering . . . feeling loss, yet feeling so full! A paradox I can’t quite comprehend.

Back in the middle of June, when we headed to Disneyland, we were all looking forward to a wonderfully long summer of family outings, dinners, Birthday parties, picnics, visits to the park, movie nights and ending it all with the birth of a new baby.

Now all of these things have happened! Summer has ended. How quickly the days have flown by!

I’m wondering . . . does the average family realize how the days are passing? Do they realize that before they know it, three months are gone and then six and then a year?

Maybe even in a marriage . . . do I recognize that what is today won’t be forever? Do I live with the goal that every day deserves a chance . . . and that every moment is a gift?

It is these packages in time, that have made me see how intentional we have become about what we do with our kids and grandkids. There is something about knowing that our days are numbered, that causes us to plan and possibly make more memories than we would if we thought that we always have next week.

I’m learning that in a situation that I’ve fought, I have possibly received a blessing in disguise.