Monthly Archives: October 2014

Nineteen Twenty One

life

Ninety Three years is a lot.  It is 33945 days and 814680 hours.  

Ninety Three is the number of years my mother, nano, has lived.  The number of years that God has given her strength and courage and determination and a will to live that remains strong even now.  She is sleeping, I would guess although I am not with her tonight.  

This, the eve of her birthday, is the first one I have missed in many years.  I would like to be there, in her town and even in that little cot in her little room, waiting for morning so we could celebrate birth day together.  

It can’t be, this year.  Maybe next.  We all know that every day of every year that we are allowed by our Heavenly Father, to breathe and be, is a gift.  Maybe when a person gets to be in the middle  

I mean the middle of their allotted years

here

before we leave this world,

we become more aware of just how precious life is.  

Maybe more thankful.  Maybe Not.  

We worry and our worry is contagious sometimes and it makes other people worry and it breeds more worry and before we know what has happened, we are old and we have a line between our eyebrows that came from frowning and fretting and fearing and then we begin to look back.  We wonder how it could have gone by so fast and wouldn’t it be nice to go to those other days that are just a distant bit of memory but of course we can’t because life is like that and once you live the minutes they are forever

gone.  

There is lots of bad stuff mind you, to worry about if you are so inclined.  It’s hard not to, but it really is a waste of the hours that have been gifted to us.  

Paul was a pretty determined guy himself and once he realized that God had plans for him, he got to the business of doing what those plans demanded.  He told his friends in Corinth that they could get away from thinking things that were not what pleased God.

 He said

“…We Take Every Thought Captive and Make it obey Christ”.  (2 Cor. 10:5 Good News Translation)

 I think of his words, which are actually God’s words, often.  I have this tendency to fret and fear and then of course, frown.  I am thankful for the reminder that my view of life is up to me.  There’s another verse that I sort of like but then again sometimes I don’t care for it because I have a hard time living by it.  

This is how it goes  

Galatians 5:22…The fruit of the Spirit is love joy peace patience kindness goodness faithfulness

Yikes!  It’s the JOY and the PEACE part that I have trouble with.  Well really I struggle with all of it.  I need to take my thoughts captive and determine that because of Who I am in Jesus and what He did for me, I should be full of JOY and know the best kind of PEACE..  

Well, Nano has had more than her fair share of things to worry about. To fret about.  She’s had quite a life.  Hard and Good.  Sweet and Bitter.   

She was little at a time when cars were a luxury and regular people still went out and about on horses and carts and when her family did get a car her father took the wheels off in the winter and they used a horse and sleigh to get around.  That’s a long time ago.  

A different World.  

She lived through the depression and then World War II started and people had a few more things that made life easier

and then she met a man who lived in a far off province and the first time he saw her he told her friend that he was going to marry her

And That’s a long story and I will tell it to you sometime.  He did marry her and the dress she wore is still sitting safe in my sister’s house.  He took her to a tiny town in a very cold place since they got married in December and the town was in Saskatchewan.  They lived in a little room attached to the back of the church where her new husband, the preacher, had the job of shepherding a flock of human sheep.  They broke the ice in the water barrel to get their water and they heated it over a stove and they loved each other and they lived in that tiny place and

one time she needed a coat, badly and there was no money for a coat and they prayed and trusted that somehow there would be a way that she would get what she needed and

then there was a knock on the door and it was someone with money and they were bringing it because God had told them to do it and it was just enough and my mom got a coat for the winter.  

Miracles were what we heard about when we were coming up in that preacher’s house and not for one minute did any of us doubt that they were

Miracles

and we knew that God was all about Miracles and He loved us and we learned to trust Him

and

she was a good mother.  

When I was growing into the woman I am still becoming

in the home where my father was the preacher and my mother was his loving wife, there was no fighting or yelling or harsh words or unkind intent.  Those two, the preacher and the preacher’s wife, clearly lived the “taking your thoughts captive” verse and the “live with Joy” verse.  It was hard sometimes and even then,

in churches

people were kind one day and unkind the next.  Still, never did I hear the preachers wife say a bad thing about anybody and she baked and sewed and took care of us and we lived with not much but didn’t notice.  

She has been alone now for more than 26 years.  Not physically alone because she has had friends and family who love her, but alone in her heart because the one she lived with,

loved to serve and cared about most

went those many years ago, to his home with Jesus.  We didn’t ever feel sorry for him because we knew he wasn’t sorry to be there.  

It’s us, It’s her we weep for.  

She is 93 now and isn’t able to do those things that she loved to do, all those years.  She can’t sew her own clothes and bake up a storm and cook the most delicious turkey dinners, or drive her car for groceries, or get on a plane to visit me and mine. She can’t can peaches or freeze apple pies or take warm loaves to other preachers and their wives. 

Life has come almost full circle for Lena Isabel (Pritchard) House.

My Mother
My Mother

 

Not quite and

while her journey continues she is knitting babies hats and dishcloths and scarves when she is able and

talks on the phone to her friends who are far away and yet they still love her and are thankful to hear her voice and

she enjoys the little pleasures of

sun through the window and a car ride in the country and a cup of coffee at the greenhouse and there is to be another change soon and she is so brave and I watch her be brave and I wish she didn’t need to be

but she does and somehow over 93 years she has lived and loved and lost and rejoiced and wept many many many tears at goodbyes that she disliked and even now she will tell you

that

it’s hard to get old and she feels sorry for herself sometimes and who wouldn’t, I ask you?

Joy is a choice and she is choosing it as much and as often as she can muster the will

and she is doing her best to take her thoughts captive and it’s hard to

when you have lived for such a long time and have been through so much and you want to be a good steward of the time you have left and you are tired and you feel like it’s all just a whole lot of hard.

Happy Birthday to the mother God gave me.  

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare[a] and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. (Jer. 29:11)  

And aren’t we all just so thankful that the verse doesn’t end with, Until you are 90 or 93 or, until I get tired of you or until I just don’t feel like it anymore. 

Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.”

I love you Mom and you are in the best hands of all.

On a Blustery Fall Day

life, , , , ,

Oh how I love Winnie The Pooh.

Silly old Bear.

He is sadly lacking in intellect yet such a dear friend to his woodland neighbors.  The group of misfit creatures who call the Hundred Acre Wood home, offer companionship, but also kindness and counsel in good times and bad.  Interestingly, what seems to be dreadful misfortune to one, is rationally processed by others, which helps the one who is troubled to work through his feelings.  In the end, as they skip or run on their merry way, the situation seems, not so dire.

Friends are good.  A.A. Milne did a fine job of his story telling of life at Pooh Corner.  I am grateful to him for the smiles over the years.  Innocent, simple, sweet stories.

I arrived at the new classroom.  It was my first day and it was grade two.  Unfortunately, I was a month late, having just moved from a different town a province over.  Fear struck as we, my mother and I, arrived at the door and the teacher welcomed me in.  Fear is a terrible thing, especially when you are a child of seven.  

Mrs. Thompson was her name and she had a voice like none I had ever heard.  She was from England and when she introduced me to the others, each in their own place, she was kind and she smiled.

The empty desk half way down and four rows over, waited for me and 30 pairs of eyes watched as I seated myself in the attached chair.  It didn’t take long of course, for me to learn the names and begin to find my place in the society of Beaverlodge (yes, that was the name of our town) Elementary School.   Some would be my friends and some would not.  There was no such thing as bullying in those days.  At least, it wasn’t recognized.  I was bullied, from time to time.  But I know for certain I was guilty myself far too often.  Oh I didn’t hurt people, on the outside.   Just on the inside.  Their hearts.  I’m sorry now.    

I remember the days when…Oh I wish I could remember her name, would tell me to watch out because she and her friends were going to beat me up on the way home.

 I took a different route.  

Would she have hurt me?  I don’t know.  Maybe but maybe not because there were also days when she would sit next to me at story time.  Nastiness was just part of childhood.  I didn’t like it.  But I learned to be kind because I knew first hand how it felt when people were unkind.  I learned how to show empathy when new children came to our classroom.

 Even as a grownup, kindness can be elusive.  It takes effort.  Worthwhile.

Well, my first day in Mrs. Thompson’s grade two class, in the afternoon, before it was time to go home, she called us to the rug in the corner.  We sat in a circle on the floor and she sat on a chair.  There was a pile of books on the table next to the chair.  She chose one and began to read.

 I think it was my introduction to Winnie the Pooh.  

It is possible the Blustery day was imprinted on my brain because it was my first time on that rug.  Maybe because it was actually a blustery Fall day and it all just fit so well together.  Whatever the reason, I remember it fondly and have a warm feeling whenever I  hear a quote or read a sentence or see a picture of those friends from Pooh Corner.

Remembrances on a Blustery Day.

On this particular Blustery day, many years later, I am here in my kitchen in the city.  Leaves falling from trees and an oven ready to warm, impel me to bake something.  Today’s offering was Cranberry Apple Muffins.

IMG_2057

I made them to take to Bible Study this morning.  I got up early to mix them together and bake them and they were good and I will certainly make them again.