Maybe Both

Cracked open my book while at the hairdresser this morning. I've lost my momentum in the story and had a chuckle about my boarding pass bookmark. The fact is ... it was from a trip I took in the Spring . . . the trip before the last one.  Either I travel too much or I have not had time to finish my book since my trip.
Maybe a bit of both.

Five Years Ago

I looked through photos of the summer of 2006, the summer Ben and Kari were married . . .  and so many wonderful memories came to mind!

It was another side I was seeing in the whole marriage preparation as I watched our son prepare for life with his wife. The same sparkle he would have had in his eyes when he was three . . . talking about going on a tractor ride . . . was still there as a twenty-three-year-old whenever he was about to see her.

He bought a house. He fixed it just so to move in after the wedding . . . to the extent of converting an adjacent bedroom into a walk-in-closet with French doors. I knew it was love.

When I think of the wedding, I actually think about a week long celebration as both sisters with their families came home (from Indonesia and CA). Besides the fact that the siblings had not seen each other for almost two years, the girls were overjoyed to welcome a sis-in-law into the family and we packed so much into that final week, that we near wore out our bride-to-be!

Sun-shine filled days with lots of laughter found us enjoying family meals . . . grands playing together for the first time in our backyard, Birthdays, a breakfast bridal shower with extended family, a girls shopping trip,

a BBQ at the lake and much more. There was a lot of making up for lost time going on.

Kari, you completed the frame of our original household . . . the family structure that now diverges into three new growing families.

Ben, throughout your growing up, your happiness was my joy . . . and so it was on this day . . . a deep happiness to know you found the one for you.

Dad and I wish you both a very Happy Anniversary and a love that continues to grow with each passing year.

Moving Fast

Okay . . . Koen may be little, but he is fast! I should have had my camera on action setting.



He looked at the plant . . . and he looked at me ...
I think he also has a good memory of what's happened before.

I like this one . . . just a slow, casual look back . . .

but sometimes he moves so fast . . .

his pants get left lying in the dust.

Back to the Shoe Girl

My H and I attended an early morning surprise Birthday party last week. Guests were already enjoying their breakfast when we walked in and one of the first people I saw was a MGCC friend. I got my food and sat down at a table next to hers. Pretty soon, as it goes with women, a group of us were sitting and chatting . . . the farmers and businessmen having their own conversations . . . when I looked down and noticed them . . .

I did not realize that I was prone to check out people's shoes, but maybe this is an exception you cannot really miss. I said something about wishing I had my camera, when one was passed to me and a few days later the photos were in my inbox. . . . I just had to ask for one more special photo that was missing.

Can't you just see fun written all over her face as well? Marg, you are sporty, classy, down-to-earth and genuine as can be. I am so privileged to know you as a friend!

Garden Checkup

These days one has to be quick on the draw to spend some time ouside without getting wet. In years gone by I've been out there watering my pots daily ... but this year I forget that I have flowers. The ones that are in a sheltered area get neglected unless my H gets to them, while some of the ones that are in the open are not looking so good.

The other day, before the drops came tumbling down again, I took a stroll, breaking at least one sticky spider web, to take some pictures of my favorite die hards. When I loaded my pictures I was pleased with how well some have fared. The picture of the begonias above was taken mid May

and here they are three months later.

Another one taken in May... a hanging basket of begonias . . .



and proof that they do not need much sun.



The beautiful petals of this potted dahlia had me out with the camera earlier already. The detail and the way the color runs just amazes me!



 I like how these little daisies in a pot are reaching down to adorn the steps.

In the garden, the hydrangea bush is getting taller than I am . . . and in full bloom right now.

The lilac colored hosta bells are thriving under the red oak tree . . .

and the easy going astilbe are at a pretty stage right now.

This thistle shows promises... maybe someone can tell me what it's called. I should have known better than to ask my H . . . who offered a quick "pussy willow?"

This is what it will look like next month. We've had this bush in our garden for over 20 years and I've never done anything to help it along or really "seen " how beautiful it was . . . until last August when I was trying out the camera I got for my Birthday. I'm sure my gardener H has taken his clippers to it to make sure it knows its boundaries.

And talk about thistles, in the very back of the yard we had two cultured blackberry bushes blooming beautifully. Recently one suddenly just dried up. No idea what happened to it! The one that's left is doing well for now. The grapes, also, sharing the back fence with the berries, are full of tiny beginnings.

And that's it for my little garden tour today.

Guess Who

I just happened to look down and could not help but find some delight at these unique shoes she was wearing.

And when they matched her apron so perfectly ...  I just had to share.

The Aspiring Princess

 

At first she was afraid
to go down the fireman's pole at the playground,
but then Papa gave her a hand and she giggled,
wanting to slide down again and again!

Climping up the ladder
she stopped on the landing at the top and,
eyes sparkling, she exclaimed,
"When I'm a princess, maybe I'll be a firefighter too!"

The list of things she will do
when she'll be a princess, is growing.
Ah, to have her kind of faith and zeal
where nothing is impossible!

It Matters

 

Don’t you sometimes wonder what people say about you? Does it matter to you?

There is a passage in the Bible ( Matthew 16) revealing that even Jesus asked this question, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” After the disciples sited several opinions that were out there, Jesus asked, “But who do you say I am?”

In a recent sermon at church a pastor gave us three aspects of genuine faith:

1. It professes Jesus as the Son of God. There have always been those who say He was a good teacher or those who call him a prophet, which is all good, but, from His disciples He was looking for more. Bruxy Cavey, in his book called the End of Religion, points out that if we believe Jesus to only be a good teacher and prophet, then we have to conclude that He was either arrogant or totally deluded, because He claimed to be the Son of God. Cavey surmises that, “If Jesus can’t even be trusted on the matter of his own identity, why would we consider him a worthwhile teacher on any other topic?” Genuine faith agrees with the claims of Jesus, or we call Him a liar, not a good teacher.

2. It perseveres through persecution and competition. From the time of Stephen (Acts 7) to today, there have been those who have been willing to die for the truth, rather than deny it. Many of us may not be faced with this kind of opposition, but the desires of this world such as money, relationships, success can so easily choke out good intentions and put God on the back burner. Genuine faith is like the seed that is not choked out by the cares and desires of this world, but grows and produces fruit.

3. It is practiced in day to day life in a walk of obedience. Genuine faith is backed up by what I practice.

If Jesus asked the question outright, “Who do you say I am?” I believe it must be important. It matters what I believe about Him.

The Port Mann Bridge

The Port Mann Bridge, crossing the Fraser River between Surrey and Coquitlam, has been a beautiful Hwy 1 landmark since the 1960's. To me it has more often, than not, signified a trip to a special destination. When I was a child we'd to head off to family gathering on my mom's side of the family, going east, delighted when the big orange bridge would come up to signal the trip to Uncle John's was almost half over. I remember when the side rails were tubes of fluorescent lights that lit up the night sky. In later years the bridge became a major crossing point for my H every week as he headed west from his home, to see me. Once we were married, we'd cross over that bridge to see my family or, as in more recent trips, enjoy an evening or day in downtown Vancouver.

 

For a while now, they have been working on a new bridge that is going to replace the old Port Mann. This past week I almost gasped at the sight of how far construction has come since I last saw it. Coming down the hill toward the Fraser River, the sight of what looked like huge sail masts, near took my breath away!

And then I saw the old and the new, side by side! The orange bridge that always looked so big ... now looked so small beside the new, proud cables reaching to the sky.

Quite amazing! 
But when that old bridge comes down . . . I think I will be a wee bit sad.

Reminiscing on When a Phone was a Phone

My memories of the phone becoming an important mode of communication are centered around the time I was dating my H. I met him when I was going on sixteen, not long after he had graduated and moved an hour’s drive away to work for his brother. Many a long distance date was spent on the phone that was attached to the wall in the middle of the hallway, close to the bathroom. To my parents’ annoyance, that coiled cord got stretched right into the bathroom so that I could have my conversation behind a closed door, with as much privacy as possible.


Fast forward about 10 years. My H still loves to tease me about my apprehension when we switched to a push button phone. I was concerned that our preschoolers would not learn how to use a dial. What if they’d happen to come face to face with only a dial phone in an emergency?

Ah … yes… I had no clue as to the changes that would be coming, slowly at first, and then picking up speed so that now it’s my kids concerned about me keeping up.

A few weeks ago, he almost had to drag me to the phone place to pick a new one. It was overwhelming to see the choices and terribly intimidating to have to ask how to use a particular phone. What happened to a normal phone? You know, the kind you just make a call with? I would have been happy with that, but the plan covered much more. And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as the kids knew it was in my hands, a message came up. I had no choice but to try to get my stubby fingers to hit the exact right part of each letter and hit send.

Kind of like when I hit a certain publish button almost three years ago . . .and life has never been the same.

I’m learning strange spastic hand movements that make words and pictures grow or disappear and re-appear. I tap a space, and letters come out of nowhere . . . a word, and a new page comes up!

 

It’s a toy that has me feeling a little unsure of what I’m committing to just yet. How much am I willing to change about the way I view this fast paced, let everyone know, instant results, way of life? I’ve been accustomed to the idea that if you are home, you are available . . . but if you are not home, you are busy shopping, at the dentist, working on something, spending time with a friend, out on a walk, away from the feeling of being needed. I kind of like it that way.

But, on the other hand, along with allowing this gadget a bit of a chance comes a strange feeling of being connected . . . when your phone buzzes and there is a message that simply shows someone’s thinking about you . . . when sitting down in a waiting room and being able to go online in a quick instant . . when you can capture a moment with the camera and send it on . . . I’m learning to like parts of this new feeling and will probably be okay with it, with some moderations.

And, funny thing, with this phone I can also make a call … even though at this point I still have to think about what to do when it rings.

Pie Class

We met at Lepp Farm Market a good hour and a half before class began, to begin our preparations. It turned out the attendees came trickling in soon after for the extra bonus of watching Mennonite Girls try to organize themselves. We did some "shopping" for the class and while the ham hock was  simmering, Lovella washed and chopped vegetables for Summer Borscht, and Marg prepared the fruit for pies and Perishky to be demonstrated.

Also, before class began, Kathy and I put our pre-made pies in the oven, so that they would be slightly cooled to enjoy before class was over.

When Class began, Lovella finished up her soup and let it simmer, while the Perishky and pie pastry demos went on.
Julie showed us her quick egg peeling trick . . . a would be big time/ frustration saver. The cooked, sliced eggs were used as garnish for the soup.

Myself, never having tried this soup before, I came to the conclusion that if it had another name, it could be a gourmet appetizer soup in a fancy restaurant. Sorrel, red beet leaves and potatoes cooked in a ham stock . . . served with a dollop of sour cream and cooked eggs.  It was delicious!

Judy showed us how she makes her glaze for fresh fruit pie. Another instant winner . . . along with honeyed apple, sweet nectarine and local blueberry pies warm out of the oven.



As with previous classes, I was so impressed with Charlotte Lepp's friendly, easy going, yet organized mode of operation.  Their farm store is definitely a place to stop this summer, if you are in the area.  The girls she had on to assist us were amazing too . . . hard working, no complaints . . . always ready to pick up dishes to wash or clean up our messes! Our thanks also goes out to Charlotte for inviting us to partner with them in donating the proceeds of the class to Matthew's House in Abbotsford.

We had a lot of fun . . . learning some visual tricks . . . things that are not necessarily written in a recipe . . . and last minute "what to do" if the filling gets runny from standing too long. I had to smile when I saw Lovella trimming pastry around her cookie sheet and adding it to places it was needed . . . just like I do . . . but have you ever read it in a book?

And one of the best parts of all the practicing, demonstrating and taking unused pastry home, is the bonus of having  pies in my freezer right now.