July 12th Repeated

July 12th, 1982 was a beautiful sunny day! We took our two little girls to Cultus Lake and sat on a picnic blanket, keeping our eyes on them as they explored around us  and played games. I remember the day quite distinctly because on this particular milestone Birthday we also celebrated some exciting news from the doctor's apointment that morning.

Fast forward thirty years to the day  . . . I packed a picnic basket and cooler and we headed out to the same lake again.

We enjoyed lunch in the sunshine . . . under a canopy of giant trees.

and then we went for a walk with the two girls whose daddy was our third baby.

Teddy entertained us with her sweet smiles from the stroller and then promptly fell asleep,

while Lacey had some defined plans for our walk. They included visiting two parks! The number of which she emphasized by using her fingers for confirmation. Lucky for her, sometime in the past thirty years, a lakefront playground has been added. We played there and then found an elementary school down the road . . .

where she entertained us with her enthusiasm for hopscotch.

Then, after our very long walk we found a place that sold something yummy for a hot day.
Also one of her requests fulfilled.
How very special to celebrate repeat days and seasons such as this!

You Blink, You Miss!

I saw this.
Clicked refresh

and missed it!

60 Candles

I baked the cake and bought the candles . . . wondering how it would work.
Kristal helped me space them . . . and they fit perfectly.

She and Ben proceeded to light it, Ben using a lighter in each hand for speed.

You could feel the anticipation and hear the soft "whoa" around the kitchen island.

We sang the Happy Birthday song and then came the blowing challenge

It  took two tries ... and smiles of victory followed suit.

Some candles got re-lit

isn't that what everyone does?

And so goes the story of the 60 candles!

MGCC Reunion

My heart is full of all that has happened this week .  . . and it's not done yet.

 I'm too busy to write . . . but also too busy not to.

On Wednesday I woke up early to the long awaited day of getting together with all of the Mennonite Girls Can Cook. You can imagine how hard it is to co-ordinate ten busy women from different parts of the continent, but this date was put on our calendars long ago and we giddily and excitedly made plans for our time together. We spent most of our day in Bev's beautiful yard, enjoying a joint effort in what we shared for lunch and exchanging gifts, like at a Birthday party.

Late afternoon we headed to Marg's beautiful back yard, where most of our hubbies joined us for appetizers and a Mongolian Grilled Dinner. We each collected our raw ingredients

and took them out to the grill in a bowl . . . topped with our chosen sauce.

When an empty spot came up, we dumped our bowl on the grill and let the grill man do his job.

It was entertaining just to watch him as our dinners cooked. We kept track of our own by the rock placed near our portion. Kind of reminds me of stone soup.

It was a gorgeous evening . . . the kind of evening you drag out for as long as possible.

And wouldn't you know it! The same two ladies who have tried joining us before found us again! They gave us a long spiel about  how they had to catch a train and only had a loaf of bread to eat between them. You could hardy understand them on account of their thick accent, but a certain familiarity about it sent us back to our roots.

 

Three other guests who joined us were a little more legit . . .  they were Russ with his wife Jane, and Amy from Menno Media Publishing whom we worked with on our book. They actually came for a conference in Vancouver this weekend, but it was wonderful to have them to ourselves for an evening! We had much to share amongst us and much to be thankful for. It was a perfect day!

Celebrating the Decades

He was born in a village in Paraguay on July 12, 1952. His parents had immigrated as teens, coming from Russia by ship, to embrace the freedom that came with being willing to pioneer the hot barren wilderness of the Chaco.  He was their eighth child blessed to be born with breath in his lungs and a willingness to take on the world as it was. His mom was quick to admit that there were times that she did not know how they would feed another mouth, but God always provided. His clothes were hand-me-downs, most likely sewn from left over flour sack material.

Being ten years old meant doing chores such as picking cotton, or whatever was growing at the time, feeding chickens and corralling in the cattle for the night. For fun, he rolled marbles out of clay and let them dry in the hot sun for use in his slingshot that came in handy for killing snakes and pesky birds. He sold the beaks for pennies and cooked the little breasts and thighs over an open fire.

When he finished Grade seven, he had to quit school for a while due to his dad's failing health and his older brothers getting on their own.  Sometime later he moved to Canada with his parents and several siblings.

I love this photo because he has the same haircut there as he does now ... after many different styles in between.

When I met him he had graduated from high school. I'm so glad his blue eyes met mine. I was fifteen and he was twenty. We married when I finished high school. It was long enough to wait.

He built our first house when he was twenty-five. He took me on road trips to the Interior, to Banff and California . . . and after those trips we had babies.

 

The third one was born when he was thirty. He played with them, provided for them and taught them how to ride a bicycle. He instilled in them a love for music and sports through various means, including lessons that would help them realize their gifting.

He showed them that this world is bigger than meets the eye by letting them experience mud pies and ant hills in Paraguay, the cool mist from the Falls De Iguassu, the soft as flour sand on the beaches of Brazil and the crooked cobblestone streets lined by war torn buildings in Eastern Europe. His love for God was lived before them.

 

In his Forties he was carefully handing over the keys to the family car, giving them opportunities to work in the family business and supporting them in challenges that would encourage them to spread their wings. He walked his first daughter down the aisle.

At fifty he proudly held his first grand-daughter with seven more grandchildren to follow in this decade.

He has an uncanny ability to know how to get a granddaughter excited to go on a date, even if it's a trip to get a tire changed. He makes work play.

 

He is known for making them forget why they were crying.  Pictures on the wall are a great distraction.

As are tickling games.



His lap can handle as many as will come.

He's been reminded that he's not quite done with building playhouses and tree houses since his resume is looking pretty good by now.

Grandchildren are his joy and delight . . .

and the love is mutual.

It's evidenced in many ways!

Today, at sixty -

his children, grandchildren and I rise to honor him.

We love you Papa, Dad, and forever my Hon

Second Cousins' Turn

Getting the extended family together in this day and age, begins with sending out an email. For thirty years, not annually, but at various times, the venue has been the cabin at Hatzic Lake. It's a good thing my side of the family is willing to share it with his side because it seems they love to come out.

The horse barn my dad converted into a house many years ago, is situated on one side of the lake and, what the kids have dubbed Dinosaur Mountain, rests right across the lake. The sleeping giant lays there, stretched out so, I could not get his tail into the photo.

The place just begins to feel like home after so many years.

 

Yesterday, grown sisters and cousins, remembered coming as little girls who anticipated the fun for weeks in advance. It was fourteen years ago, that Bonnie's wedding reception took place right here and the bridesmaids posed on these steps. She was the first of these five to get married. (there were numerous others before her .. )

First cousins brought their little ones to check out the place.



It looked like they were having fun.



Our Ben, who grew up with his many girl cousins, brought his family from Saskatoon.



And observing him, I caught another father/daughter photo op. Kristal and her family  have not been at many gatherings in the last ten years.

Julene, our artist, set up a kids corner for face painting and crafts.  Older kids found a football to toss around near the lake, who then had to figure out how to get it out of the lake. At one point we had to get out some towels for dripping wet kids. Sunshine and water tend to to that.

I saw that acquaintances were easily renewed. ( it's wonderful how they just seem to know . . .)

Newlyweds, teens and little girls enjoyed the hammocks.

as well as the swings.

 

Oh, and since my mom and Abe live right next door . . . if you remember that story ... they were happy to join us . . . coming across the shared lawn with a warm Platz. At one point I saw her pushing her great-granddaughters on the tire swing, and something came back to me. 

A photo memory . . . many years ago, regular swings hung under that same tree, and my own children's great-grandmother stood there watching over them . . .  did she give them a push or two? Probably. I know my mom would remember too, and I almost called out to her, "Mom ...remember Omi?"

 

Her new hubby, Abe, brought out his accordion to join my sister-in-law, Elvira, on her harp.

Food got pulled from the fridge and an assortment of coolers . . . and plates were filled.

Potato salad, bean salad, broccoli salad, layered salad, veggies, meatballs, farmer sausage, ham, a cold fruit soup and Zwieback were on the menu.




So many people - meant waiting in line ...



but everyone found something they liked ...

and obviously desserts followed suit.

I overheard some young ones talking as they looked at that table and there was a question . . . and the answer was, "Yes, we can eat it, that's why it's here."

 

 And when I looked out of the kitchen window as I was making coffee, I could hardly believe the sight! It was worth sending out an email.