Saskatoon in September

This picture of Lacey's first day of preschool came to my phone.
I love how her face says it all!
She is the first one in our family to go to preschool and obviously excited!

When we talked on the phone she told me that they color and paint and go to the park.
We hang on to a rope to be safe . . . she said . . .
Okay . . . on the phone . . . with no facial expression to recognize . . .
that one was a blur to me, so I will explain here as well . . .
hanging on to that rope, she is part of that cute line of kids walking to the park.
So drivers . . . take care.

Lacey is also enjoying her second year of gymnastics,
A busy, more scheduled life has started up for our Saskatoon family too.

Text messages, photos, facetime and trips to the mailbox to look for
fat envelopes keep us connected in ways I'm thankful for but,
 right about now, some real hugs would be nice.
I'm sure it's okay for me to say that.

For today . . . I thought  I'd try something new
for my final post of grandkids starting school.
Lacey, if your mom scrolls down a bit . . .
there is a little video for you.
(I couldn't find a way to add it to the end of this post ...)

Sesame St - La La La La Letter L

la-la-la-la . . . Lacey . . .  we so love you . . .

la-la-la-la . . . hope you like this little song
la-la-la-la . . . look and listen
and la-la-la-la laugh with us today.

On Food and Faith

 

A while back, a comment that led to some email exchanges and a look at a fairly new blog called, http://morewithmuchless.blogspot.ca/, gave me a new awareness of the complexity of anorexia and the consequent fear associated with food preparation.

On her blog, Michelle tells of the thought process going through her mind as she looks at food or considers preparing a meal. While on her road to recovery, she is blogging her way through  the More with Less cookbook - a challenge that can paralyze someone who is already guilt ridden about food consumption without a recipe book focusing on how to cook with less. 

Michelle asked whether any of us of the Mennonite Girls Can Cook would be open to do a guest post on her blog. Although we are not choosing to add writing to our cooking and speaking schedule, one of her questions resonated with me and I thought I'd respond to it as best as I can.  Please be aware that  I am only addressing her question and talking about my personal experience. Eating disorders are complex illness that can be life threatening - my heart has been heavy just realizing that this is not an easy road for someone trying to get well, but I am not eligible to give advice on that. If someone you love is struggling, please seek professional help and do all you can to help them come through.

The Question:

How did growing up in a Russian Mennonite family affect your relationship to food? Did your family come from a history of shortage? If so, how does that affect how you view food consumption/restriction now?

 

My response:

Growing up in a Mennonite home I knew that my mom would always have something prepared for meals. Even when she worked full-time, I never heard an excuse coming from her, saying she did not have time to cook.  There was not a lazy bone in her, the biblical meaning of which was lived out in both of my parents’ lives. She made things from scratch as much as possible, ever conscious of the cost of prepared foods. She prepared ahead by keeping basic ingredients in the house, making soups, baking breads and preparing home-made food to pack for lunches. We did not grow up with snacking foods, when the meal was served we were hungry and the food was nourishing. Mealtimes were family times. We waited for each other and talked about our day. It was a time to connect.

 

My father and my grandmother went through food shortage and hunger in Russia during the war and later, in Germany, after the war. My father had to look for food in trash cans and my grandmother shared with me how her health suffered from lack of sugar and butter. I often take her words into consideration now, with the talk of how both are not good for you. The fact that hunger was something very real to my father played a big part in how he raised us. We were not allowed to complain about food and we were not allowed to throw food from our plate into the trash. We were taught to give thanks for our food and to be grateful for full tummies.

 

This brings me to something I consider to be important in my view of food, be it consumption or restriction. I believe that the giving of thanks for what God has given plays a vital role in how food affects us. When we realize food is a gift from the One who provides for our needs, we will be careful about how we handle it. We will not try to find fault with it unnecessarily, be it the ever fluctuating views about foods or just plain being picky, which shows ungratefulness. I believe that the giving of thanks can bless food to cleanse it in instances where we have no choice. There are times I question some of today’s dietary restrictions and where they are coming from. Obviously there are situations where it is vitally important to follow a certain diet, but in certain instances our self induced diets can lead to a life of problems, stemming from some form of worry or ungratefulness. So let us give thanks to Him who made the world, along with the food we eat, and blessed it proclaiming it to be good.

Exodus 23: 25

“Worship the Lord your God, and his blessing will be on your food and water. I will take away sickness from among you.”

1 Timothy 4:4

“For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving.”

From Summer to Fall

Sunrise . . . sunset . . . softly flow the years
one season following another . . .

As much as I love summer,
I also really like living where seasons allow for change ...
especially a change in wardrobe.

Just the thought of adding a new scarf helps me out of the remorse of summer fading.

My summer jeans will quickly blend into the Fall wardrobe
with a loose fitting sweater or cardigan and boots.

Even my white jeans will be good for a while yet with a sweater or jean jacket - or both.
Closed shoes and a scarf  for that warm hug feeling. . .
for now it's all good.
 

Happy Birthday Koen

What’s that dot on your foot? He wanted to know.

I had to look hard. Has he not noticed I have dots all over me?

Koen. The name that encompasses our littlest grandson and baby in his family, yet fighting that thought all the way. The fact is, in many ways he missed out on allowing himself to be a baby to be fed, read to or cuddled. His language skills are beyond him, which is a great asset because the need to communicate his plan is of utmost importance due to his determination - much like his mom, but more so. He is cute and sweet until he thinks someone has made a decision for him . . . sometimes the trick is to let him think he made the decision . . . an idea which does not go past him too easily. With this post I invite you to peek into a few hours of his life at this stage.  
 

About a week ago we had a large church picnic with activities for kids. After they finished their hotdogs, I took him and his older siblings through the crowd for a few last rides. Refusing my outstretched hand, he kept his distance as though he were walking and deciding things on his own. This is not a good idea when drifting through crowd of a thousand people and I felt uncomfortable having to constantly look around to see where he was. When I finally decided this was not working, I took his hand and ended up dragging a very unhappy, crying child through the maze of people. So much for any high ideals placed on this Grammy!
 

Fast forward one hour. The crowd of people moved into the sanctuary for a service. With Shaun and Kristal in the band and choir, we had the kids with us. Koen decided to sit three seats away from us and by now that makes perfect sense. There are times when you just have to let him prove himself and to everyone’s joy and delight he sat / stood through the whole service like a pro. The band came up to play and we all stood up to sing.  He decided to enjoy the music even though he could not see a thing with adults in front of him blocking his view. We would have loved to hold him up and let him see the front, but he was happy - hidden away - clapping his hands, singing, sometimes adding some foot tapping or an interesting elbow move. He kept going like he was plugged in, pretty well through all nine songs. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the people in the row behind us could not wipe the grins off their faces, thinking he was so well behaved. I let them think it … because right then and there he was.

 



taken in July 2013 

 

Koen, you are loved! And if I don’t have the chance to tell you when you are older, I want you to know that God has made you who you are for a good purpose. May you be strong and courageous to do what is right and accomplish much. For today, have fun being three – going on seven!

The Why and How

 

I've heard it said  that bloggers tend to make their lives look perfect.
I understand.
 It's what we choose to focus on.
I believe that blogging gives me an avenue to practice
the discipline of looking for
things that inspire and things I'm thankful for.
My days certainly are not one glorious day after another -
from mundane to anxious moments
there's still the mammogram appointment,
the shower that needs cleaning,
the pile that needs sorting,
the broken toe, the sore back,
misunderstandings laying heavy on the heart,
events that make me nervous . . .
fear, uncertainty and loss to process.

Yesterday I went to see a friend for whom,
life recently came to an abrupt halt, due to cancer.
I'm sitting here, trying to work through the vision
of her whole being ebbing away
 as she considers the values of this life growing strangely dim.
She told me she is ready to go,
but I wish I could have more time with her.
More time to weave our friendship through
the joy of sharing the stages of our life.
She had such zest and such a giving spirit -
how does one say good bye?
Feeling this pain, I know it's not what God intended when He made us.
As I left her side - tears streaming down my face,
she said goodbye, she said my name . . .
and in hearing that, sorrow gave way to the truth -
it's through our faith in what is yet to come.
That's how.