Christmas

     It seems to me that it's more acceptable to be a Christian, a believer in God, a church-goer at this time of year. Most of the time I feel like we are the minority in the world, as I am sure that we are--- church attendance is continually declining. At Christmas time though, it seems like almost everyone can sing about Baby Jesus and the joy of His birth, whether they believe or not. Maybe I am just being cynical and there is a lot more of us out there than I realize. Or perhaps at Christmas, the possibility of faith is closer to us all because the story is one of simple poignancy: a child, a star, a peace that could overcome all of our differences and make us one. Maybe at this time of year some of us yearn to be part of something bigger than ourselves, even if we fail to understand it the rest of the year.
      Is there more giving in December, more hope, more reconciliation? Do folks reach out a little more then, act more charitably, try a little harder to love their neighbour? I think so. It's a shame that we can't be those people every day of the year. But if Christmas, Chanukah, Winter Solstice, December make us love one another a little more, give to each other a bit more, if it makes us look around us and realize how blessed we are, then great. Really truly great.
    I haven't always but I love Christmas now. My favourite Christmas memory is of waking up years ago, to the sound of our two young daughters singing "Go Tell it on the Mountain" from their bunk beds, quite unsolicited, quite unexpectedly, very joyously. And that is why for me Christmas is about children, our children, the children we were, the children in the world who need us, all of us and the child: the child, the star, the peace.
Happy Christmas to you and to yours....

Bravery

     After yet another seizure, this one at school in front of peers, it was decided by the teachers that the class would need to be debriefed. They had been evacuated from the room to give our daughter some privacy while the seizure occurred. This happened right at the end of the last class on Friday afternoon and so over the weekend some students probably wondered about her, what had happened and why.
     Our daughter's first reaction was to not want to be a part of this explanation to the class. She was embarrassed to have had a tonic clonic seizure which lasted seven minutes in front of anybody, much less any of her classmates. At fourteen years old, who can blame her; at fourteen we don't want to be perceived as different, and certainly not this different. We talked about it over the weekend, listened and talked some more. And I think I heard her and I think she heard me because I left it up to her and she chose the harder road.

     On Sunday she indicated that she would be wearing purple to school on Monday; purple for Purple Day, the Epilepsy Awareness and Education Day, which was started by another 14 year old Canadian girl named Cassidy Megan when she was nine years old. And on Monday afternoon our daughter stood up in front of her class with her teacher who explained what had happened. I wasn't there and did not hear what was said but just knowing that makes me incredibly proud of her. It is no easy thing to tell your secret to relative strangers or even to stand there while someone else tells it for you. Her teacher called her a brave young woman. Yes she is.
     We have no idea what will happen in the days to come but know that we will count them. We will count them as the days since her last seizure but we will also count them as the days since she stood up, answered questions and looked her classmates in the eye. We could not be more proud or more grateful to know such an amazing person.

Lady

     A friend of ours left this world the other day and the earth is a lesser place. She was 95 years old, the mother of my brother-in-law and a very special lady. I know that our girls were happy to consider her their honorary grandma. She lived in her own home by the beach, a cozy little place, with photographs of loved ones and lots of the colour blue around her. She always remembered to bring some of her home-grown tomatoes for my mother-in-law, for whom they were a special treat. Happy to be involved in all the family gatherings, she was a gracious guest, someone who always had a kind word, a smile and a compliment regarding the meal.
     Recently she had begun giving away some of her jewellery. I was thrilled to receive a delicate little heart locket that had belonged to her and had a picture of one of her aunts in it. She knew how much I love hearts. Our younger daughter received a Scottish brooch to complement her Highland dance clothing and our older daughter received another gorgeous brooch worthy of any lapel.
    She had had a rough time with her health but waited until her son and daughter-in-law were back from vacation, to enter hospital. The end was hard for her with difficulty breathing and no strength to move herself in the bed. Predeceased by her husband and her daughter, she spoke of being ready to go and be with them again. It was hard to see a woman of such strength and dignity reduced to such a tiny being in a hospital bed. She was uncomplaining and stoic--- intelligent and well-mannered. Kind and wise with a ready smile and a sincere interest in others, she will be missed. God bless and keep you Peg....we'll always remember you!

Hope

  

  The other day our 14 year old daughter and I went to see her paediatric neurologist to discuss the results of her MRI. Her doctor is a spunky lady with a beautiful Irish accent, a good sense of humour and a no-nonsense approach. I like her. Anyway, she took our daughter in first so that they could talk together "sans Mama" and then my daughter came and got me. On the way down the hallway my daughter told me that she had seen her brain on the MRI---"her beautiful, wonderful brain". The good news waiting for us on the other side of the door was that her MRI showed that her brain had no scars, no lesions, no tumours. It was absolutely normal! In the doctor's opinion it also meant that there was a chance that our daughter could grow out of her seizures. For the first time in many years, I felt more than hopeful about my daughter's life with seizures. She will always be "differently-abled" or learning disabled, if you prefer that term. But the fact that there is a chance, even a tiny shred of a possibility that this might not be a lifetime diagnosis feels remarkable to me.
    We don't know what came first, the epilepsy or the learning disorder but either way, all our daughter has ever wanted is to be like other kids; to babysit and learn to drive, to stay home and look after herself sometimes, to graduate from high school and eventually have a boyfriend. Many of those things seemed impossible with epilepsy in her life. Maybe, just maybe, there will be a life for her, without seizures and whether it is because they are being managed with medication or she outgrows them completely, only time will tell. Right now we are 5 weeks seizure free and anything seems possible.

Enough

   

      I am not sure where I saw this but I like it: "Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can. It will be enough." Arthur Ashe  It's simplicity is riveting and at the same time deceptive. How often do we give ourselves permission to do the first three and then decide to be okay with the last one? How often do we say "can't, shouldn't, isn't"? I know I do. More times than not I claim it's me being practical, realistic or just myself---a-glass-half-empty kind of person.

      But I am inspired by people like the woman who runs Project Aftershock, a thrift store whose whole reason for being is to raise money and awareness for the people of Haiti, many of whom are still dealing with the after-effects of a horrendous earthquake. This earthquake happened in 2010 and affected the lives of over three million people! But this is the whole point for our friend. She carefully and cheerfully collects money, medicine, and clothing so that she herself can travel to Haiti and as a nurse, distribute what she can. She is amazing! Her faith in God is strong and I think that helps her. Truly she is an angel who can't help but care for others and who is not overwhelmed by the mountain of need that exists in a place like Haiti. To me she is the epitome of the above quote which apparently is credited to American activist and tennis player Arthur Ashe who died in 1993.  He also apparently wrote: " From what we get, we can make a living; what we give, however, makes a life." He's right and she knows it.

Run

     I had the privilege of participating in the CIBC Run for the Cure while I was in Calgary recently with my mother. This is an annual run/walk to raise funds and awareness for breast cancer research. There were so many people there: loud ones, proud ones, big, small, short and tall, great-grandmothers and babies, men and women, boys and girls.  My brand new great-niece was there and she was only three weeks old at the time!  Eight thousand folks were present apparently and my sister-in-law and I were two of them.
     I was so impressed with the age range, number and variety of participants but there was one family that stood out for me. It was a family of three: father, son and daughter in a carrier on the dad's back. They had no pink clothes, no face paint or breast hats, just the simple hand written message, pinned to the child carrier and to the boy's chest: "We're running for Deborah".  I have no idea if she was the mother or wife, an aunt, friend or grandmother but it made me think about why I was there. Primarily I was there for my mother who had breast cancer 15 years ago. When I thought about it though, I realized that I was there for all the mothers, daughters, aunts and sisters, grandmothers, friends and neighbours. There is strength in numbers and it is in looking around outside of our small circle and seeing what others have been through that we recognize how precious life is and how fleeting it can be. So in a way I was there for Deborah too; we were all there for Deborah, wherever she may be.

Living

    

     There is a symposium about living with epilepsy which I will be attending this month called Living Well With Epilepsy. It is being presented by the Center for Epilepsy, a epilepsy advocacy, support and education society which is doing marvellous work, right near us in Abbotsford. I am looking forward to the conference for a few reasons: the guest speaker is our daughter's paediatric neurologist, we are still dealing with seizures after an almost 3 month hiatus and a year on anti-epileptic medication and it is always therapeutic to get in amongst other families with epilepsy and feel like part of something bigger. "A problem shared is a problem halved" as they say...
     For us living with seizures means a lot of stress, uncertainty, worry and fear. Epilepsy lives in the back of our minds like a dark unwelcome guest who descends upon us from time to time without a thought for whatever else is going on in our lives. Tonight though, while walking around B.C. Children's Hospital on our way to our daughter's MRI appointment, I am reminded of how small our problems truly are, how blessed we are, how lucky. Yes, we live with seizures and the terrifying scenarios that they can present but the rest of the time we are healthy, she is healthy, life is good. Life is great. And living well is knowing that, everyday.

Eden

     Thank you God for this most amazing day....for the birth of a new baby and for everything in our world that is good and pure and new. We thank you for tiny fingernails and small cries and for the love which truly does surpass all of our understanding. We thank you for our children with whom we share our lives and for all children that they may grow daily in health, wisdom and compassion. Forgive us please for the mistakes we make and help us to earnestly learn from them so that every day we may start anew. Help us please to provide all this new little one needs especially granting us a world of peace and hope, a community where all things are possible, a place of safety, a home where love truly does conquer all.

Beauty

   

 As we have watched our feral hen Beauty, hatch out seven chicks in early August and battle hawks, possums and other assorted enemies, we are now left with five nearly grown chickens and a new appreciation for chicken motherhood. She came to us from a shrubbery in White Rock. Her human friends there noticed a raccoon in the neighbourhood and transferred her here for safety. She never did get the hang of staying in the coop and consequently I have only ever had one egg from her. I know that because her eggs are white (she has gray ear lobes) whereas the rest of my girls lay brown eggs (they have red ear lobes---- strange, but true.) That was three years ago.
     She sat on about nine eggs for much of July without me even knowing that she was there amongst the hollyhocks and peonies. Once the little balls of fluff were hatched, three black and four gray, she taught them everything a yard bird must know: dogs are okay, cats, not so much. The soil and grass must be scratched and scratched hard to reveal black beetles, worms and other delicacies. Store bought chicken crumble is not to be depended upon but hen scratch must not be ignored because of the yummy corn it contains. Other hens are to be avoided as well as motor vehicles of all kinds: cars, trucks, lawn mowers, you name it. You must always keep moving and make noise the whole time so that Mama knows you are there. Never mind that big noisy guy in the yard, that's just your father. Roosting is a useful skill and chest butting can be fun. Stay together, keep eating, no wandering please. Keep your beak clean, your feathers fluffed and when in doubt, run like the chickens.
     Beauty, like Lulu before her, is the epitome of grace under pressure, all the while making motherhood look easy. It isn't! But then you knew that....

Sleeping

     When you are not sleeping the world seems like a crueler place. Snoring partners, tick-tocking clocks and enthusiastic roosters all seem to take on a dastardly edge. Even my digital radio alarm clock, my friend in all things organized, now seems like his own evil twin; he positively gloats as the minutes trot by and I watch, pillow and insomnia in tow.
     I have always needed to read before bed, always looked forward to it and the escape it brought, not to mention the screen-clearing it afforded before sleep could be had. Now I am reading at both ends of my night, and it is not pleasurable, only a means to an end. I have not watched television in bed for years (we are certified Netflix fans) and I realize now why I stopped. Those commercials, repetitive, insipid, ridiculous, did I mention, repetitive, will drive me insane. ( And believe me, these days I don't have far to go!) A certain cat food commercial with the catchy jingle, "Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow....." seen 3 times in 15 minutes remains my personal un-favourite. (Strangely enough, they were still using that, back when I did watch TV. Not funny then, still not funny now, really!)
     I suppose that as a 50 something woman, graying and now groggy with fatigue, I should not be surprised. Insomnia is apparently a woman's lot at this time of life. However it is a relatively new experience for me, especially on this scale and so I am flummoxed. What to do? Warm milk, alcohol, pills of all kinds are sometimes suggested. My problem is exhaustion brings nausea but I am too tired to care; I just feel awful! I am not looking for sympathy, just the understanding from others that I am functioning at way below my usual game. With less than half the sleep I used to get, I am lucky if I even know what game we're playing, much less the score. When a dear friend called me the other day and woke me from a snooze in the middle of the afternoon, I knew I had reached a new low. I now know that I am tired and old and now napping.... The end can't be far off! At least I'll get some sleep?

Acre

 

     Once in a while you meet someone who makes you proud to be a fellow human being; a person so remarkable in the way that they care for others that you feel glad to be around them. Jas Singh of God's Little Acre is just such a person. Today we went to the farm he runs, as part of a field trip for our daughter's grade 5 class at school. The teacher wanted the students to experience a charitable farm as part of their learning about social responsibility. God's Little Acre was the perfect location for the kids to start learning about what some folks are doing to help others. It has been in the local news lately as it has needed volunteers to help with its burgeoning harvest. I had read about it and felt that I wanted to be a parent driver on this field trip just so I could see what this place was all about. The concept is simple; it's 30+ acres with a small market where produce is sold to cover seed costs. What I hadn't counted on was my reaction to this project. Jas's desire to feed the hungry of our community with the harvest of the land he leases is a noble undertaking. The way he talks to students though is what really caught my interest. He spoke to the kids in a straightforward way with a basic message: You can do whatever you want to do, just make sure that you really want to do it and you can make it happen. I'm paraphrasing of course, but that was essentially it. He stressed the importance of community, of people helping people to make things happen. God's Little Acre is a testimony to exactly that. We spent a couple of hours harvesting carrots. It was pretty easy, even relaxing. We were able to feed a couple thousand folks a couple of carrots each with what we picked today apparently. I can hardly wait to go back. I think God's Little Acre is going to become one of my favourite places....

Left

     A tough week...lots of tears and change and grief and did I mention the tears? It's particularly hard to deal with when the one crying is your "tough" daughter---the one who doesn't let herself cry or when she does, brings it home first so as not to let others see what she's feeling.
     What can you do? When it's big changes at school, organizational issues that seem unfair, you can talk to the teacher, talk to the principal, write letters to the assistant superintendent, the school superintendent, the school trustees. It doesn't seem to be that effective at times but it surely is therapeutic and I recommend it highly.
     I think the issue here is my little one's sense of self. Always seemingly confident and self-assured, when the news came that friends would be leaving her to go across the hall, she was devastated. And she still is reeling with the feelings, the grief and the sense of being left behind. No one wants to be left behind. The leaver usually has the excitement of change and a new experience. The leavee just gets left. And when you feel that you are the only one....
     I have been trying to explain to my daughter the fact that grief is not just about losing someone who died; grieving is a reaction to all change and loss, big or small. When the biggest loss you've had is a pet fish dying, then it is hard to understand. Grief can feel big and big feelings can be expressed many ways. When I suggested that my daughter express herself through art, which she loves, she scrawled KMN in huge letters on her iPod screen. It stands for "kill me now" and wasn't exactly what I had in mind.
     We'll get through it of course--- what else can you do? In the meantime, there's lots of hugs and time for talking, hanging out and letting it go. We listen to each other, love each other, pray and listen some more. It's in telling our story that we learn and grow and ready ourselves for other challenges. And there will be other bigger, sadder days ahead, God willing; other times when we are left behind. That's just the way it is....
   

Question

You have invited a work associate/friend and his family over for dinner.
They are due to arrive at 5 p.m. It is now 4 p.m.
Do you:
1. Make a marinade for the salmon you are cooking on the barbeque tonight?
2. Offer to help your wife with the other courses she is preparing?
3. Check the bathroom, make sure there are clean towels and give the toilet a quick once-over?
4. Shower, get dressed, sit and have an aperitif and glance through the latest issue of  "Fine Woodworking" magazine?
5. Pick up the neighbour's Bobcat and move several large loads of firewood from the front of the property to the back of the property?
You've got it...it's number 5!
And if that is not obvious then you don't know my husband;)

Life

     A couple of members of a young band we just saw and enjoyed at The Roadhouse were placed in medically-induced comas after being in a terrible car accident. Our elder daughter remarked that this incident caused her to realize that life is not forever. "Live it to the fullest" she said, "life, I mean." Strong words coming from a fourteen year old girl who has challenges of her own to contend with.
    As we think of them and pray for them and their families, we remember how fleeting, how fragile, how unpredictable our days on this planet are for us all...And we wish these two young men health and healing....

Community Again

     We helped a neighbour get a wandering steer back to where it belonged today. Trust me when I say I did nothing; our daughters and I just watched and kept track of the proceedings, although my husband did get involved.  What impressed me was the number of neighbours who stopped and did what they could to help. Everyone is so busy and on a Saturday afternoon, most folks have something going on---- if not now, then later. But that's the kind of neighbourhood that we live in. If you need help, there is somebody there to do just that.
     That doesn't even cover the other kindnesses that are constantly happening: invitations for get-togethers, gifts for our daughters at special times of the year, recycling collected and delivered for our eldest daughter's choir fund-raising, escaped horses corralled and returned in the middle of the night, egg boxes, soup labels and bottle caps religiously collected and delivered, banana bread and other goodies baked and brought over, extra fruits and vegetables shared, bulbs and other plants dug up and given, even clothes passed on....the list is endless. The bounty is generous and enormous and much appreciated.
     In a world where people are frantic and struggling and sometimes totally overwhelmed, we feel we live in a little pocket of heaven....where people smile and are nice, a neighbourhood both rural and close, where folks have time for each other and if not, they make time.

Thank God

     Our elder daughter spent a week this summer at a day camp with other developmentally disabled kids and really enjoyed it. She made a friend and some good connections with an organization which does incredible work in our community. One thing our daughter learnt during that week was life changing. Thursday afternoon as I picked her up she said: "I thought that God had made a mistake when he made me and now I know I'm just the way I'm supposed to be."
     We all spend time wishing we were different, our lives were altered somehow, our circumstances changed. What a gift it is to be accepting, faithful, sure that we are who we are supposed to be, in the life we are meant to be living, just the way God planned for us, in the knowledge of and with thanks for God's amazing grace.
     I certainly have railed against Him, everything and everyone, wondering why her, why us. I have replayed her birth in my mind questioning decisions I made and blaming myself for how my daughter is burdened in this life. Perhaps, I too can come to the realization that all of our lives are just the way they are supposed to be, nothing more and nothing less, and thank God for that.

Community

     When you live in a community for a long time you get to know the folks that own or work at the businesses that you frequent. Whether it's your dentist, or your doctor's receptionist, your favourite pizza place or the pharmacy where your prescriptions are filled, it's the people that make going there worthwhile and sometimes even fun. One of our daughters' favourite people is our pharmacist. The pharmacy where he works is a smaller, family-run business. He and his father have looked after our medicinal needs since we've been a family and his mother is the nice lady at the front of the shop. Our girls have known this family since they were babies and love going there. I'm sure that it doesn't hurt that our purchases sometimes include lollipops that he's sneaked in there for them. He also buys them something at Christmas time. What they really love though is getting to go behind the counter: "the backstage pass" and listening to the silly jokes he tells them.  He shares the latest antic that his little niece has been up to on FaceTime. And he asks them about what they've been doing and listens to the answer. He makes them feel like special customers and they like that.
     What I like is that no matter the situation, serious medical situation or not, we feel cared for as people. Our health sometimes depends on this family and they do a terrific job. I have never felt that personal level of service at the bigger chain pharmacies. When you think about it, a pharmacist knows things about you and your family that you might not even share with the best of friends. Their knowledge is key to your health; their experience with combining certain medicines and supplements for example, is crucial. All I know is that we couldn't imagine having our prescriptions filled anywhere else. Where else could we go and get such great service, happy smiles and a silly joke too?

Lemonade

     Our younger daughter and I headed out to Harrison Hot Springs the other day. It was a chance to have some time on our own; drive and chat and enjoy each others company. She talks much less than our older daughter; I am always surprised and enjoy how quiet it sometimes is, when we are together. We had a lovely stress-free time but on the way home found ourselves in the midst of holiday traffic. We scooted off the highway and wove our way through smaller, emptier country roads and found ourselves chatting about the choices we make in life.
     We discussed how even small decisions can have big consequences for the future. She talked about wanting to make the right choices and having control of her destiny. Our ten year old turned to me and said " I don't want to be one of those people who, if life gives them lemons, they make lemonade. I want to trade my lemons for apples, and make apple juice!" Out of the mouths of babes....

Honour Roll

     The most amazing thing happened....our eldest daughter "achieved honour roll status" and was recognized at an Awards Night at her high school the other night. How does a profoundly learning disabled student who has had twelve seizures in the last twelve months do that? The principal said it was team work. I call it very near a miracle.
     There is no doubt that her SEAs worked really hard to help her attain those marks. No doubt at all---they were amazing. And my daughter and I worked hard on the homework and projects we did at home. And of course she was graded based on an adapted program, so not on the same scale as her typical peers. But it is a huge accomplishment in the life of our daughter. Her awards thus far have been achieving "Most Improved" student at her elementary school two years in a row and a Highland Dance medal from Santa Claus. (That is a whole other story!)
     We watched a great many kids receive a great many awards last night; some of them getting up multiple times to get awards in the same or different disciplines. It was astonishing how much brain power there was in the room. The special moment for us though was when our daughter saw her name in the program; she was incredulous. Unexpected rewards are delightful; the pleasure is in the surprise and the gift of being recognized. Although nervous to stand up and walk across the stage, she did it and was noticeably proud.  It was a very encouraging moment in our daughter's life and we hope one of many....

The Horrocks

     Today we celebrated amongst other things, a LST teacher at our elementary school who has retired. He doesn't seem old enough to retire; he rode his bike from Crescent Beach to school and back again every day he taught. And he infused his time with our children with such intelligence, humour and cool warmth that to type these words makes my eyes fill with tears. Am I a fan--- you bet your life I am! Anyone who can make a room and everyone in it sing like he does, is more than alright with me. And that was just in his spare time.
     A LST according to The Free Dictionary, stands for 43 other things but as far as I know, it means Learning Support Teacher. That means that you are not a LST teacher but just a LST. (The same as it is not "two twins", it's just "twins".) But this man was not just a LST. He read with the kids, told stories to the kids, played cards and other games with the kids, did sports with the kids, sang and played his guitar and taught songs to the kids...our kids. And if they needed extra help, they got it, along with a thoughtfully written report outlining what was done, what was needed, how to support learning at home.
     The fact that his last name almost rhymes with the name of a famous Dr. Seuss story is just a bonus. The kids narrated and sang and sang and sang today and it was a beautiful thing. It was our small salute to this wonderful man who apparently will miss the company of children. Today was a day about a man I will never forget...and neither will my children. Thank you Mr. H!

    The Horrocks              (With apologies to Dr. Seuss)

At the far end of town

Where the Grickle-grass grows

And the wind smells sweet and country-like when it blows

And lots of birds sing, even the old crows

Is the School of the Retired Horrocks.

And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,

If you look deep enough you can still see, today,

Where the Horrocks once taught

Just as long as he ought

Before something retired the Horrocks, they say.

Who was the Horrocks?

And why was he there?

And why was he retired and riding off somewhere

From the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?

The old Red Hawk still lives here.

Ask him. He knows.

“Now I’ll tell you,” he says with his beak sounding gray,

“How the Horrocks got retired and rode away….

It all started way back…

Such a long, long time back….

All of a sudden….

Something popped out from behind the door

Of the room I’d knocked on… It was really a man.

Describe him? That’s hard. I don’t know if I can.

He was tallish. And oldish.

And pinkish. And mossy.

And he spoke with a voice

That was sharpish and bossy.

“Kids!” he said with a sneeze quite long,

I am the Horrocks. I sing for the songs.

I sing for the songs, for the songs have no tongues,

And I’m asking you kids, at the top of my lungs”---

He was not at all upset as he shouted and ran ---

“What’s that THING you’ve done with those songs that we sang?”

The Horrocks said nothing. Just gave me a glance….

Just gave me a happy-sad backward glance…

As he lifted himself onto the seat of his bike.

And I’ll never forget the nice look on his face

When he heisted himself and took leave of this place,

Through a hole in the fence, leaving quite a trace.

And part of what the Horrocks left here in this thing

Was a small pile of voices, with the one word…

“SING.”

And we know what that means and we know how to do it,

In three part rounds, with and without music,

We know all the words because the Horrocks, he taught us

He gave us such gifts that no one could have bought us.

That’s why we will never forget him….

Why we will always thank him…

That’s why we love him.

Dancing

     Over the years, our younger daughter has done Highland dancing with a wonderful teacher---- a woman of infinite patience and Scottish good cheer. At one point, both my daughters and I danced with her. It was a great deal of fun. Highland dance can be quite difficult but it looks amazing when done right. Picture elevating yourself by jumping on your toes over two crossed swords laying on the ground without rattling them. Scottish country dance is not as hard to learn, but again enormous fun.  Again, picture yourself in a set with five, seven or even more dancers, crossing back and forth, swinging, linking arms and more. The woman who teaches the class does so with such enthusiasm and ease that all the girls (and sometimes boys) can't help but be hooked.
     The unofficial motto of the dance facility is "....where people with two left feet are welcome...." Thank goodness! It's refreshing to be in a class where you can learn at your own pace and your aptitude for a skill does not matter; what matters is your desire to learn. And I prefer Scottish dance to other dance because the clothing worn for it at competitions or ceilidhs is child-appropriate: kilts and skirts in every colour imaginable, white blouses with lace, velvet vests and matching knee socks. I dislike going to a dance recital and seeing young girls dressed in scant clothing with lots of make-up on.
     I have always been a fan of everything Scottish, whether it is bagpipe music, tartan clothes or the accents. (I am not Scottish, but sometimes I wish I was.) But I am a huge fan of this dance company because it encourages little girls and boys to love to dance. Whether they are good at it or not, they are appreciated. With this teacher's encouragement, they also learn to love themselves dancing and what could be better than that? And as Mike Myers said in the SNL "All Things Scottish" skit--- "If it's not Scottish, it's crrrap!"

Father's Day

For Dad

Time can be so very unkind,
Erasing memories from our mind
But there are some I remember well
It’s of these I wish to tell:

Baseball and opera, all in one day
You drove; we talked and rode a long way.
You took me to the place I was born
Along village paths ancient and worn.

Burgers for all of us in the back of the car,
Trips to Florida, Montreal, places near and far,
A favourite film seen again and again
Words to the songs imprinted and then,

From you, I got a lifelong love of sweets,
Music, reading, sports and more treats,
A short temper but quick to forgive,
So many lessons I needed to live.

I will remember, I will never forget
The kind of father you are still yet
Loving, kind, honourable and giving
Who shows me how to make life worth living:

Hold your friends and family close,
Be there when they need you most,
Face your troubles when they come,
Don’t be afraid and never run.

Love God and country and take care
Listen, learn and always be fair.
These things I took from life with you
For them and more I thank you too.

How can I say what it means to be sure
That you are on my side forever more?
I love you Dad, that’s how it’s said
And I’m grateful for the life you’ve led.

Singing

     My daughter loves to listen to music. There is a popular song out right now by The Mounties that spells it out: "I got my headphones on from the minute I'm up 'til the minute I go to bed, I got my headphones on everyday of my life, gonna wear them until I'm dead..."  She also likes to sing. Not in an always-singing-everywhere-and-anywhere kind of way but in a way that soothes her and makes her life better. Most of the singing happens at choir although Justin Bieber and Jonny Lang sometimes get a pretty good run for their money here at home. I have been in our church choir and know firsthand how amazing it is to sing with a group. When you feel part of something bigger than you, you connect with your inner self in such a clear way.
      My daughter is a member of a children's choir that is a gorgeous group of young, mainly female voices, brilliantly led by a beautiful, dynamic woman with a South African accent and the voice of an angel. With her guidance, this group of young people entertain, inspire and delight. Most everyone is unfailingly kind to my daughter, despite her differences and she enjoys time spent with them. A seizure at practise did not faze this choir's leader, who dealt with it in such a kind and loving way. I believe that she viewed it as a teachable moment and had the other students help her to look after my daughter. Her compassion was amazing and I think the kids learnt a lot about how to handle a seizure in the future. She told them that they can never know what their friends have to deal with in their own lives and to count their blessings. She also said that she was was proud of them and that she loved them all. What an incredible teacher!
     I am inspired by people like this woman and I know she makes my daughter a better singer and a more well-rounded person. Last night when I saw many of the choir members singing at the finish line at the Relay for Life in support of cancer research, I felt proud. I liked seeing a community of young singers supporting a community of mostly older runners and walkers as they made their way around the oval. Singing is a way of connecting souls; a way to reach out to each other and our world; a way to give our love for others, wings. 

Mother's Day

     On Mother's Day our younger daughter handed me a handmade card that read: "To the best mama ever! You treat us like every day is Children's Day." What a nice compliment.... When I received my handmade Mother's Day card from our eldest daughter I read it out loud: "To the best mum ever." I hugged my daughter and then she said "You're my only mum and I want it to stay that way." From your lips to God's ears....

Wanted

     Today while we were at Children's Hospital, both the doctor and the nurse asked my daughter about friends, now that she is in high school. Her responses were vague, quiet and not positive.  I already knew the answers but my heart felt silent for a moment while I listened and then it resumed: quieter, slower and with an ache. The sensation in my chest has been there ever since my children were born--- every step they take away from me brings loss, but this is accompanied with pride in their developing independence. There are moments though, as a mother, that are quite sad and this is one of them for me.
     Later I ran into one of my daughter's previous SEA's at the school she now works at and we talked briefly about friendship. As she pointed out, it would only take one--- one friend, one person with whom there is a special connection, to paint this picture differently. But that person has not been met yet, or has not yet been identified and so the answer remains the same. No, not really, not yet, not so much....
     You cannot make friends for your children but you can show them, by example, what it is to be a friend. I am no expert. Girlfriend friendships have always been difficult for me. Honestly, I usually preferred  friendships with boys because they seemed easier to navigate, with fewer landmines to steer around. I do know though that in order to have a friend, you must be a friend.  Easier said than done, easier done when things are good--- not so, when times are tough. Harder still when social skills are developing.
     If I could put in a request for her it would say: Wanted: Friend, must be kind. No experience necessary. All applicants welcomed. Can start immediately. 

Relationships

     Relationships are enormously difficult aren't they? Whether they are with your partner, your neighbour, your family or your dog sometimes they are just ridiculously hard. Why are they like that? Shouldn't like-minded individuals be content to be together? Because...and yes and no. The point is that there is no simple way to get along when people are involved. Whether it is our genetic make-up, our baggage or our mood that particular day, there are just so many variables that it is not easy for everything to be smooth every minute. And unfortunately for us all, it is so comfortable to judge, to be hard on each other because sometimes being that way means that we are just being ourselves. Or so we say.
     I love the old gem, "Treat your family like friends and your friends like family." It seems to me that I find it quite effortless to say things to my immediate family that I would never say to friends. They would think me rude! On the other hand, I do find it easier to extend the comforts of family to close friends. For me, it is much harder to treat my relatives as if they were my friends. There is something to be said for being your real authentic self with the folks you live with but what becomes of our manners, our kindness, our compassion for those closest to us....
      How do we find a way to treat the folks we highly value and live with, with the same affection and respect that we give the people we value and don't live with every day of our life? "Familiarity breeds contempt." wrote Aesop. Does it or is it just that our family members see us at our lowest--- when we are tired, hungry, bored, frustrated, lonely and sometimes despairing.
     What is a friend? In the age of Facebook, it seems that friends are something that many of us have hundreds of. Real friendship is the family that we choose, rather than the one we are born into. I am blessed to have a wonderful family and stellar friends. What more could anyone ask for?
    

Towed

     It's nice to know that after 40 years of driving that I can still learn a thing or two. Apparently if you park too close to the corner in Vancouver you get a $50.00 ticket. ($50.00 if you pay it right away, $150.00 if you don't. ) Also if you get a ticket, you must also be towed to Buster's Towing Yard and pay $84.15 plus tax to have your car returned to you.
     It was alleged that I did "stop within 6 metres of the nearest edge of the closest sidewalk on an intersecting street." Still you don't want to let a little thing like having your car towed mar your evening. But it did. It wasn't so much the large amount of money or the colossal waste of time or the damper it put on the evening as much as the horrible, sick feeling I got when I looked down from my friend's balcony and saw that my car was not where I had parked it. My mouth got dry and my heart started beating loudly. Where was my car?
     The funny thing was was that we had walked to a nearby restaurant, put up with yelling at each other because it was so noisy, walked around the neighbourhood some more and sat outside on the deck on the other side of the building. We were so close to where I had parked my car the entire evening but had no inkling that it had disappeared until right before I left. Luckily, my friend was wise to the antics of parking by-law enforcers and knew right where the lot was and it too, was very close. No big deal, right?
     When you are celebrating your 20 year Friend-iversary, with a very valued and important friend, you cannot let a little thing like a car towing ruin your good time. Just look at it as an impromptu lesson that enhances your 40 year driving skills. Or lack thereof.
    

Doctor, Doctor

     Our older daughter has continued to have seizures, despite the anti-seizure medication, so we keep upping the dosage. She and I had decided though that the paediatric neurologist that she was seeing was not a good fit for us. Why not--- sometimes human beings don't click. This doctor seemed too busy and over-worked. Our communication styles weren't working together well. I had to write a letter for this doctor that she was to have written the school district on my daughter's behalf, in order to get her constant supervision in case she had a seizure at school, two months after the fact. It seemed to both of us though that this was a fairly important relationship given the on-going nature of the seizures and the medication titration that was happening, so we decided that we should find another doctor. In asking around, we heard the name of someone who shared the same office and I called to make an appointment. At least, I tried to make an appointment. I could not get a call back. I called again. I spoke to the nurse in the office. I called again. I went to our family doctor for a referral--- no problem. They tried to get an appointment. No call back. I called our GP's receptionist, (a wonderful woman who I hope is being paid handsomely because she deserves it) and she had no luck. We all waited for Spring Break to be over. Still no response. She called again. Apparently the second doctor did not want to see someone who did not want to see the first doctor--- us. I guess that it would be awkward for her? I don't know--- do doctors, specialists take that sort of thing personally? Bottom line, my daughter was just not comfortable with her. We needed to see someone else.
     Anyway, we are now scheduled to see another doctor from the same office. Someone apparently who is okay with seeing someone who doesn't want to see someone else. From the same office. I would think that the over-arching concern would be the health and well-being of my daughter. That's mine anyway. So off we go....

Television

     Through the wonder of Netflix, we have been watching some interesting television shows. One that I find particularly strange is the sit-com about the lovely witch who can wrinkle her nose and make magic happen. I can remember watching this show as a child--- in fact I would have been eight when it first came out, in black and white, no less. My age is showing I know! What an odd world it reveals, where women wear dresses, stockings, heels and false eye-lashes all day long. Where cocktails are drunk at various times of the day and night and smoking cigarettes is done by everyone, everywhere. Most episodes revolve around the couple experiencing some kind of misunderstanding, having a fight and then of course, making up. As my youngest daughter observed "They fight way more than you and Dad!" Thank goodness! I cannot think of a show on television right now that is in any way similar...and maybe that's a good thing!?

Hero

     Yesterday, I was helping our eldest daughter look for her locker key. We had dropped by the high school to pick up some forgotten homework and afterwards the key was not where it was supposed to be. Looking for lost things is not my favourite thing; when my eldest is involved, it takes on a sort of panicky flavour. Whether that is because of me or because of her, I am not sure. Just know that we were anxious about it. She went to bed and I kept looking. While checking through her zippered binder, I noticed that she had filled in the answer to the question, "Who is your hero?" with the answer, "My mom".
     I was very surprised. I would have thought her answer to that question would be Justin Bieber or Taylor Swift or maybe even a younger, hipper family member. She had written it in a binder she almost never brings home, for a class in which I rarely see her work. It was something that I might never have seen, if not for the lost key. I was surprised because most days I don't feel very heroic: impatient, short-tempered, task-oriented, humourless, yes--- heroic, no.
     What stuns me even further is that she does not realize that it is she who has the heroic qualities.  As hard as her life is, between the seizures and the learning differences, both of which are overwhelmingly challenging at times, she wakes up cheerfully almost every day and hardly ever feels sorry for herself. She is kind to everyone she knows and to people she doesn't know. She is patient and generous, considerate and thoughtful, fun and funny. She is a loving big sister, daughter, granddaughter, cousin and niece. She is faithful in the little things, which is a big thing; quick to apologize, slow to anger, happy to be happy. She loves helping people, she loves animals, she loves music, she loves God and she loves her family. She of course, has her moments--- she is human after all. But basically, she is amazing. And that is why I am telling you now---she is my hero.

Purple Day Again

     Another photograph and article about our eldest daughter and her upcoming speeches about epilepsy and Purple Day appeared in the local paper. It is surprising to me how many folks read the local news. Anyway, it has given her a little extra attention these days which tends to balance out the anxiety caused by speaking in public. Also she has been having seizures despite the antiepileptic medication she started in September which is very stressful for us all. We have been upping the dose after every seizure to find an acceptable level: no seizures and no side effects. When one of the side effects could be a potentially fatal rash, we want to make sure that we are only administering what is needed to be seizure free and raise the dosage very slowly.
     As I commented in the article, it is very brave of our daughter to speak to her peers about her seizures, just as it is courageous of her to be interviewed in the paper--- everyone is going to know. With that fact comes the possibility that she will be harassed or teased for revealing her epilepsy. This was in fact, her grandparents' biggest fear. I pointed out to them though that we choose to live openly and deal with the consequences as they come. As it was Pink Shirt Day, the anti-bullying day, it only seemed right.
     One of the reasons that Cassidy Megan started Purple Day was that she wanted other kids with epilepsy to know that they weren't alone. How can those kids feel part of something bigger if we are all hiding our challenges? Who will be the first to say: "I live with this. I don't like it but I deal with it."?  Well in our case, it will be our daughter. I could not be prouder of her and I know her dad feels the same way. As she stated in her simple yet eloquent way," If people don't like me because I have seizures, then I don't need them in my life!" Right on, girl--- you tell them!

Lagniappe

     Last week our younger daughter fractured her wrist playing basketball at school. She did it on Tuesday and on Wednesday I took her to our doctor, who suggested we go to the hospital for an x-ray. This we did and about five hours later we walked out with a new blue cast, fingers to elbow. Luckily it was a tiny break on the hand she doesn't write with and I did not take too long in getting her there. I did question her rather strongly to ensure that the trip to the doctor and hospital was necessary. No one wants to do the excruciatingly long wait in the various hospital waiting rooms where all the magazines have been removed because they were thought to be spreading the flu and the smell of a draining abscess can drive you to desperation. Of course you are not allowed to use your cell phone and have to keep running out to the road to put another twoonie in the parking meter. You run because your child will not stay in the waiting room alone (justifiably so) but you cannot miss your turn so you gallop outside and you gallop back. I am not complaining. I just don't want to be in a hospital unless I absolutely have to be.
     I do check in with our youngest regularly to make sure that she feels like she gets enough attention. Fortunately, she says she does. Having an older sibling with epilepsy and a rather rare learning disorder means that the lion's share of our attention is spent on her older sister--- there's no denying that. It's not fair, it's not right but it is the way it is. If you've read any of my other blogs you know that our youngest daughter is an angel, a terror, a beautiful human being and a pain in the neck, at times. She is our second miracle, our little extra gift from God, our lagniappe. I wasn't supposed to be able to have the first daughter; the second one was an unexpected bonus.
     Everyone likes a lagniappe, a little something extra: a baker's dozen (13 instead of 12), a free key chain, BOGO shrimp rings (buy one, get one free), an extra rose, a free shampoo sample. This week our youngest has her own little something extra: one blue and almost-completely-signed-on cast. Not free exactly, but memorable nonetheless.

Learning

     Sometimes conflict is our harshest but best teacher. As parents we are always giving advice, trying to smooth the way, attempting to make things easier for our children. Unfortunately, the clearest lesson usually is learning the hard way.
     When one of our daughters was having an issue with a classmate, we gave her advice and tried to give her the benefit of our wisdom, such as it is. We also encouraged her to handle it the way she thought best, even if that was not how we would handle it. So she did what she thought was right and afterwards wished she had done it differently. When asked to reflect on the experience, she was clear--- she wished she had slept on it and revisited the issue the following day.
    When our other daughter was having difficulty with someone on her bus, she was reminded to use the experience to gain some self-awareness. By giving this person another chance, she realized that this individual has some of the same learning difficulties she possesses--- it was a chance to look in the mirror and learn. Though they are neurologically based, her behaviours are sometimes seen to be annoying and inconsiderate. Now our daughter has a chance to see how people may view some of her actions, and do her best to try something else. She must learn to get along with the rest of the world, most of whom are not learning disabled. It is terribly difficult for her but this opportunity to be on the receiving end of some of her own behaviours was very eye-opening.
     Live and learn. Life is about learning. Sometimes we are conscious of the fact that we are gleaning new information; sometimes we are just pedalling madly, trying to stay afloat until the next wave of chaos strikes, without a chance to have that "a-ha" moment. Either way, we are doing the dance---just getting more out of it some days than others.

Daughter Again

     When our almost-ten year old was asked by the school librarian what her three wishes were she said, "That my sister wouldn't have any more seizures, that every day would be Anti-bullying Day and that I could have a German Shepherd puppy."
     That she is an absolute angel and a terrible perpetrator of squabbles goes without saying...she is human after all. That two out of three of her wishes would be directly linked to the welfare of her older sister speaks volumes about her character. She is a rare and wonderful creature; a person of style and substance; an amazing being who excels at doing and being...and can still drive me crazy with whining/complaining/squabbling of the highest (and lowest) order.
     I am of course, totally biased; she is our daughter--- an unexpected beauty who arrived 9 months or so after a particularly delicious 45th birthday dinner at a local Indian restaurant. The pregnancy was difficult; we were told that there would be a genetic anomaly resulting in grave health issues and physical abnormality. None of it came to pass. She is insurpassable. Hearts will be broken. I have permission to live in her basement when I am older, except when I have failed her in some way and then I do not.
     I refer you to my blog of 26/4/2012---Daughter. She is all that and more.