Finn

     One of the benefits of family is meeting their friends and sometimes getting to know one or two of them quite well. We recently had the pleasure of hosting a friend of our younger daughter, a young man who I'd like to think has now also become a friend of ours. Circumstances had created the need for alternate living arrangements and we were able to provide that for several months. It's not easy to fall into a family and find a way to navigate all the ins and outs of group life in a family that's not yours. Our young friend found a way to do that without infringing on anyone's space or privacy and actually found a way to contribute. Whether by cutting the grass or reorganizing a cupboard, taking out garbage or walking the dogs, he found a strategy for adding to our summer rather than diminishing it in any way. 

     It can be challenging to be a good guest but he was up for the challenge and in fact, exceeded my expectations. We experienced the death of a young family member this summer and our friend was exceptional in his ability to empathize, to support, to listen and to understand. I felt heard; I think we all did and his recognition of our collective grief and sadness was a gift he shared generously. As any grumpy old lady would, I have sometimes wondered about the younger generations and their values. This young man filled me with hope and made me glad that we had space to share...thanks buddy. We miss you already!

Kezia

     Her name is the Hebrew form of the word cassia and means "cinnamon" and was the name of Job's middle daughter. It will always evoke for me sweetness, loyalty and spirit. At five years old and the youngest she was the very centre of their family, the one that everyone else big or small, looked out for.  As she twirled and whirled and ran like a tiny breeze in those dresses she loved, she was the epitome of light and life and love. Our entire extended family is unable to understand how she could be so fully with us one minute and gone from us the very next. I sat with her on a swing this past Thursday and we talked about everything and nothing. She did not stay still for long! But I knew from that conversation and from every other interaction that I have ever had with her that she would not want me to be miserable. Surely I think, she would want us all to smile when we thought of her. The trauma of her leaving us, all of us, for we were all there, although horrific, is unequal to the joy she brought to everyone upon whom she bestowed a smile. And forever and ever the smell of cinnamon, the face of a five year old, the kindness of a little one to another, the feel of a welcome breeze, will always make me think of her. That means that she will never be far from my thoughts. And I can live with that. I must live with that. 

    

Sunflowers

     Our elder daughter has been determined to grow sunflowers this year. She had a very successful roadside business in the past and although we have much smaller square footage here, we do have an opportunity to grow dozens of plants in our raised beds. Last year we suspect that rabbits ruined any chance of a good sunflower harvest so this year, we took advantage of our little greenhouse, got an early start and used every inch of garden we could to guarantee a bold return. A little fencing didn't hurt either. We are both excited to see what happens next. And the fact that the little seedlings were not bothered by the torrential rains or the little bit of hail we experienced recently makes us hopeful. The presence of a nearby bird feeder filled with black oil sunflower seeds means that we are never alone. Robins, chickadees, finches and even mourning doves make their presence known. And Mr. Rabbit is nowhere to be found. I suspect he found a more enticing spot without the possibility of our dogs making an appearance.

     Growing flowers, vegetables or fruits is never a sure thing, any farmer will tell you. And despite what those forget-me-nots poking up through cracks in the concrete might imply, the conditions must be right. Proper soil, sunlight, rain and care will not ensure success but will be very helpful.

     Whatever comes of our daughter’s efforts, we are looking forward to those blazes of yellow, orange and gold petals, those complicated yet simple centres, those broad green leaves and thick strong stalks. They're all gorgeous, generous and a patient gardener’s dream. And with a little help, luck and a few prayers we will be back in business, whether she sells any or not.

Robin

     As the first harbingers of spring, robins have always been one of my favourite birds. Their generous size, their gorgeous orange chests and their work ethic with worms have always impressed me. I love all birds and enjoy watching their quick and quiet antics in my garden. My garden is a place of many moods; joy, solace, wonder and sadness are all experienced there. Nature is a good friend when you need a quiet moment or maybe a distraction; there is always something to do. And as in a church, prayer seems to come naturally in a garden.

     When I learned that my friend Robin had died, my garden seemed like the best place to go. He was a man of wisdom, good humour and diligence. Getting to know him and working with him as wardens at Holy Trinity made me like him tremendously and respect and value his intelligence. He was a gentleman first and foremost, in every sense of the word. He was also a man who liked to walk and so I regret the pilgrimages Robin did not get to plan. It seemed to me that he was a man of vigour, with a great capacity to take on whatever life had thrown at him. Sadly none of us knew how short a time we were to have with him. Robin died in hospice care with his family around him. I miss him.

     One of  Robin's qualities that I most value was his ability to get us, his parish family, outside, which he did annually. We made a trek as a group with him as our leader, a Lenten pilgrimage, through parts of White Rock and South Surrey, meeting at the church and ending up there too. Robin charted our route and kept track of us all. These walks were an opportunity to forge new friendships and solidify old ones. The hot cross buns, tea and coffee waiting for us were a welcome treat after our walk and provided a time for fellowship. I appreciated how Robin was able to get us all together, walking for a few hours on a sunny spring Saturday and I know Hayley and her dog Stella appreciated it too. We will all miss him.

     Father Joe's prayer included in the notice of Robin's death resonates deeply with me this morning. It begins: " Father of all, we pray to you for those we love but see no longer...." Now every time that I look across the aisle to where Robin used to sit in church I will remember what a kind, wise and caring man he was. And I will not be alone.

Orchids

     I love spring, the season of spring. There is no confusion like autumn or fall, it's simply: Spring. It is a time of newness, of rebirth, of buds and flowers. There are few things that give me as much satisfaction as several flats of something to plant and a place to plant them. And I will find a place, or I usually do. A neighbour's old Japanese maple tree didn't quite make it into my yard but I tried really hard. But that's another story. And as much as I like gardening and flowers, I'm no master gardener. Some things make it and some things don't but I am okay with that.

     For some reason I have accumulated several (nine!) orchid plants over the years and to my delight seven of them are blooming at this moment in time. They live in our bathroom window, above the bathtub and I suppose between the diffuse light and the moist air, they are very happy. A little fertilizer is helpful as well I guess. I am not sure how I attained such a bounty of gorgeousness but they are truly lovely and unique in every way. I feel blessed to have a window framed in such beauty to gaze upon each day. And I thank all the nice folks who handed me their orchid plant, maybe not knowing if they would ever see them again....Here they are! Enjoy! I know I do.

Thursday

     I have been attending the Thursday Eucharist service for some months now. It is at 9:30 in the morning on a weekday which is not possible for everyone but it usually works for me. It's completely different from the service that I attend on Sundays; the same place, some of the same folks, a similar but extremely pared down service, but very much a unique experience. Previously it had never occurred to me that I might attend a church service more than once a week. Life is busy; many of us can barely make it there one day a week. That used to be me. 

     This service for me is a simple but profound connection that is made in quiet moments. I can look around and really see my surroundings: the stained glass, the brass and wood, the tapestry and wax, the bread and the wine. By observing the ritual of Eucharist up close with attention paid to the acts and words of this most sacred communion, I am drawn in, focused. In the chaos and commotion of daily life, this time in His house is a small retreat into wonder, a simple but valuable reset: I feel like a child in my Father’s house. Once again, I am. 

     I am grateful for this. I appreciate that our clergy, led by Father Joe, provides this service. I am thankful for the Altar Guild and that the church can be open and available to us in the middle of the busy week. I thank God for all who came before and gave us this place of joy, of peace, of hope, of love. There may be cracks and stains in places, spilled wax and old windows but I love this house of God, my church home. I know this every day but I am particularly reminded, every Sunday and every Thursday.

Goat

     Looking after a tiny goat kid is more work than you might imagine. It's also more rewarding than you could possibly think. Our little friend was about a month old and her mum had rejected her so things weren't great and to top it off she had a heart murmur. Our daughter and I figured that we were her only chance for survival so we decided to give it a whirl. Here's what I learned from our little cloven-hoofed friend Misty:

1. Communicate, communicate, communicate. And volume is key here. Don't whisper when loudness is so much more effective. If you're hungry, let everyone know about it. Heck, let the neighbours know....everyone needs to know.

2. Strolling is overrated. When at all possible run, spin, leap at full speed. Slowness is for sissies.

3. Everything is a potential snack. Chair cushions (especially the green ones with cute little ties), coffee tables, jacket zipper pulls, house plants....everything has some nutritional value. You just don't know until you try....

4. Every place has what it takes to be a toilet. We are not fussy; towels are good, mats are nice, dog beds are awesome even just the plain old floor. Even grass. We're not fussy--- why should you be?

5. Pushing things with your head is underrated. There is no end to fun when you are applying your forehead to any imaginable surface: fireplaces, furniture, doors. Anywhere has possible pushing possibilities. Also it feels good on those little horns that we are growing. You should try it! 

6. Neatness is not a thing. Whenever possible, drip your milk, spit out your hay, knock over your water and jump at the slightest noise. It keeps life interesting and let's face it, Martha Stewart is not coming over anytime soon. Also see #4.

7. Goats are people too. Sure you may not give us the best names or dress us in the highest fashion clothes but we like the attention so we don't really care. As long as you are into the same kind of fun that we are, we like you. And if that includes racing around a field like an idiot then we love you! 

8. You never know how long you have on earth so it's best to live your best life every day that you can. Make friends, sing, dance, enjoy the outdoors as much as you can and just know that every day is another chance to make someone smile....

Rest in peace Misty!