The Spirit of Christmas

Seniors love to reminisce and I think this must be especially true during the Christmas season because there are so many memories attached to this special time. I am no exception, and, like the people in Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol (published in 1843, a hundred years before I was born), the ghosts of Christmas past come to visit me. In Dickens' novel, kindness, generosity and compassion embody the spirit of Christmas.

It was late November 1984. Our family had returned to Canada from Congo, and we were looking forward to the first Christmas we would experience in the land of ice and snow! We had settled in Ontario so Hardy could continue with Bible translation work (with the translations team of the Canadian Bible Society), but for Christmas we planned to be in Winnipeg where our extended family lived. 

Before we could plan for those days, a church in Port Rowan asked us to come for a visit and tell them about our work in the Congo. We always did this together as a family, our three daughters providing the music. Until now, that had worked out well, but not this time. Our older two were teenagers and they had a laughing fit as they were eyeballed by the teenagers of the congregation! Heidi, age five, saved the day by singing her little part with gusto: "My God is so BIG, so BIG and so MIGHTY, there's nothing my God cannot do, for you" (at which point she pointed to the people in the pews). She was wonderful!

Following the service, a member of the congregation asked us if we would like to have a Christmas tree as he was cutting down several large trees on his property. We happily accepted and went home with the tree attached to the top of our car. Even though it was only mid-November, we put the tree up immediately because we wanted to enjoy it before we left to spend Christmas in Manitoba. One morning we had an early snowfall and when I looked out the window I saw that the boy who delivered our newspaper had written these words in the snow: 

"I LOVE YOUR CHRISTMAS TREE !"

This has been a rather difficult year for us as Hardy has been dealing with some medical issues, However, we have felt the kindness, generosity and compassion Dickens writes about in his Christmas story. Some things that have already touched our hearts with joy this Christmas season:

My youngest sister Marge brought supper and a beautiful ice candle while Hardy was in hospital. She also came with me to bring him home.

 

         

Our nieces Andrea and Miriam in Calgary decided to make the Christmas cookies my mom (their Oma) always made and sent around at Christmastime. They contacted their great-aunt who is an expert at making these cookies and then made them together with her. Then they sent a package of these cookies to their five aunts (my sisters and me) in Winnipeg! We look forward to eating them together and reminiscing about past Christmases!

 

Our grandson, Heidi's Ivan, helped us set up our tree.

We did our part by feeding the critters in our backyard. This little rabbit just loved the rose hips poking out through the snow!

                           An old card I found when going through my parents' memorabilia

How are you experiencing the joys this season brings? What can you remember from past Christmas seasons that make your heart sing?

A Ghostly Story: Now You See Them, Now You Don't!

Two days ago we celebrated Hallowe'en and in keeping with the season, I have a ghostly story to tell you. It happened many years ago, not long after we arrived in Congo, in the provincial town of Kikwit where Hardy was working on a translation of the Old Testament. I don't know what time of year it was because there are only two seasons: dry season from April to October and rainy season from November to March. It could have happened in October!

After we had company one evening, I quickly rinsed the dishes and left them on the counter for our house helper, Tata Mbukapindu Simon, to wash more thoroughly the next morning. He usually arrived quite early, so Hardy had the habit of unlocking the kitchen door when he got up, and then returning to whatever he was doing.

 

That morning Simon didn't come to work. When I arrived in the kitchen, there wasn't a dish on the counter. What happened to my dishes? To this day I don't know. Our neighbours said they had seen a man with a sack walk across the yard. Did he quickly sneak into the kitchen and fill it with our dinnerware? Did he know Simon was absent from his work that day? I had other dishes that I used for every day.
The ones that disappeared were special; Hardy and I had received them as a wedding gift. 

I grieved the loss for a bit, then remembered that most of the people around us ate from a common pot because they didn't have enough dishes for each family member! Why should we have two sets? Perhaps whoever stole our dishes sold them at the market and was able to buy some food for his family. I learned quickly that Congolese share what they have and taking something from someone who has more than they need is not considered stealing! The bad thing is to have more than your neighbour and not share it!

Our wedding dishes looked like the dish above.

Collecting a good set of china was something young women in our culture back in the 1960s did before they got married; or china was often received as a wedding gift. I had started my good set before we left for Congo and had six cups and saucers and bread and butter plates (above). I did not take them along to Congo. When we returned to Canada, I was disappointed that this set was discontinued and I was not able to purchase the dinner plates or the dessert bowls.

The women's group at Kitchener MB church (in Ontario), where our family worshipped when we returned to Canada, wanted to do something special for us and gave us money for a set of dishes. I chose Corelle again but a different pattern than our stolen wedding dishes. This set has lasted us for many years.

Hardy and his brother bought the above set of German china as a gift to their parents on their 25th anniversary. Hardy's brother passed away in his early forties, so we inherited these dishes when Hardy's parents died.

 

Interestingly enough, my Dad, quite the romantic, loved pretty dishes. There was a store within walking distance of their house that specialized in things Dutch. Dad bought the above tea set for my Mom and I inherited it from her. 

One day when my parents came to Ontario for a visit Dad asked me to choose a set of dishes. He wanted it to be a good set. I told him we didn't need any more dishes but he insisted. We walked to the mall near our house and I chose a set of French glassware that we use all the time. It always reminds me of Dad and puts a smile on my face!

When I took stock of all the dishes I owned I was amazed! I guess I inherited my Dad's penchant for them. We do love to host and our dishes have served a good purpose. I hope they will continue to do so long after we are gone. I recently asked our three daughters to choose any of the dishes they would like to inherit and I hope some will stay in the family as a reminder of the good times we had together around our table. 

I pray that  the dishes that disappeared mysteriously so many years ago have been of good use to someone in need!

 

HAPPY  NOVEMBER  EVERYONE !

 

Oh the Glory!

When I published my monthly blog post in September, I was in a melancholy mood. I had a difficult time letting go of summer because it seemed it had been so brief and our family's cottage holiday was shortened because of COVID. 

One morning, looking out the bedroom window, I saw not one but three blue jays, picking at the seeds that had fallen from the bird feeder onto the deck. The blue jays are too big for the bird feeder and have to eat what falls from it. One blue jay was sitting off to the side, watching.
A second one picked up a seed and brought it to a third one! I wish I would have had my phone with me to capture what I had just seen! The picture stayed with me all week and I pondered its meaning.

The following Sunday morning the above work of art greeted us at church. We were told it was created by an Indigenous artist, and that the blue jay plays a significant part in Indigenous spirituality, symbolizing happiness and peace. Blue jays are considered guardians and helpers of people on spiritual journeys.

Since then I have been enjoying this autumn season in all its glory, and I mean GLORY!

            

My sisters and I are all in our autumn years. Here we are at Pineridge Hollow, celebrating my youngest sister's birthday. (We are five sisters, but one couldn't join us.)
Pineridge Hollow, just out in the country, normally has beautiful seasonal displays and did not disappoint. We are all radiating joy! Which one is the youngest? The oldest?

I like to go for walks around the lake close to our home. I especially enjoy the sunsets
when the geese are staging on the water.

 

This little messenger of joy is going to accompany me through the coming winter months!

Floating Into Fall

As usual, at this time of year, I find myself astonished and dismayed that the summer is almost over and I'm being catapulted into autumn, much against my will! I'm trying to maintain a positive attitude, reminding myself that autumn has its own beauty. The problem is that its loveliness only lasts for a short time and then there is a long winter ahead!

But first, we must celebrate. Hardy, my spouse, is turning 85 on September 6th! 

We have been together for 54 years and have had many adventures! A favorite time since retirement has been our annual one-week cottage holiday with our children and grandchildren. When the grandchildren were little it was mostly the grandparents and our Manitoba grandchildren. The cottage holiday gave the parents a break and us some quality time with the kids. The parents came on the weekends. 

In 2019, the year before COVID, we rented a larger cottage and our Ontario family joined us. By that time, the older grandchildren were teenagers and everyone had such a good time that we decided to make it an annual event. We were all looking forward to the following summer's get-together, but alas, our separation lasted two years! Sadly, COVID kept us apart. 

Finally, this summer we could have our cottage holiday with everyone there.  

 

Although we decided to keep things simple, I did some baking ahead -- granola for breakfasts and chocolate chip banana muffins for snacking. ( As you can see, I had to do some sampling to make sure everything turned out right!) I prepared a "Rollkuchen" (deep-fried fritters) dough ahead of time and kept it in the fridge.  These delicious morsels are traditionally eaten with watermelon and everyone enjoys them.    

Below is the much used recipe from the Mennonite Treasury of Recipes cookbook. Note that my mom improved it by adding whipping cream instead of milk. I had to double the recipe for our cottage crowd. I will make them again for Hardy's birthday, with a  pot of Borscht to have a bit of a healthier meal!

At the cottage, Lena Kate and Sasha helped with the cutting and frying of the Rollkuchen. They designed a page in our ongoing cottage diary.

I always enjoy the butterfly garden at the cottage but did not see much activity there this summer. The butterfly population seemed to have diminished, but the flowers were beautiful. They were already taking on an autumnal appearance.

I debated about whether or not to join kids and grandkids on a tubing adventure down the river and decided to do it. It was quite relaxing and enjoyable! I spotted other grandparents with children and grandchildren.

We were looking forward to some additional fun days at the cottage and then another week with our Ontario family in Winnipeg, but on Thursday morning there was evidence that all was not well. Several people had coughs and runny noses. We tested, and sure enough, COVID was not done with us yet! Almost everyone tested positive and our holiday came to an abrupt end. We were sad to have to say farewell before we were ready to do so. Just like I'm not ready to say farewell to summer and hello to autumn!

My sister, Hertha, has taken on all kinds of crafty projects since her retirement from her medical practice. She made a quilt for each of her four sisters. Above is the lovely quilt she made for me. Its bright and cheerful colors will see us through another winter!

"These Days I'm a Bit Bristly"

Fred Rogers, host of the preschool television series Mister Rogers' Neighbourhood

Mr. Rogers' statement sounds simple when you read it. I must confess, for me it isn't. Accepting someone exactly the way they are is difficult! The quote states that love is "an active noun like struggle."  

These past days many of us in Canada have followed with interest the words of Pope Francis as he expressed feelings of regret and sorrow for the actions of the Catholic Church toward Indigenous people. Niigaan Sinclair, in a Winnipeg Free Press article of July 18, 2022, stated that "this is no time to dance around barriers to inclusivity. The movement to make Indigenous celebrations and ceremonies more inclusive of all of our relations cannot be stopped because it is driven by love."

 A long time ago, when our daughters were still in high school, Rockway Mennonite Collegiate put on a drama of Harper Lee's 1960 novel To Kill a Mockingbird. I remember it not only because one of our daughters had a part in it, but also because there were some universal truths that bear repeating in 2022, the 62nd anniversary of the book's publication. Here's one: 

"Sometimes the Bible in the hand of one man is worse than a whisky bottle in the hand of another ... . There are just some kind of men who are so busy worrying about the next world they've never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the results."

Mr. Rogers called the space between the viewer and the television set "holy ground" and said the central message of "Mr. Rogers' Neighbourhood" -- that you are loved just the way you are -- was based on God's concern for all creation, a core tenet of Christianity (Daniel Burke, CNN Religion Editor).

The book On Holy Ground, edited by Dora Dueck, has caused some controversy, as I wrote in my last post. Pages were removed and books destroyed. Here in Winnipeg we held a picnic to protest this action; it was well attended and felt peaceful.

"These days I'm a bit bristly."

The quote below the picture is from Anne Lamott's latest book, Dusk, Night, Dawn (highly recommended). I just love her sense of humor; it always helps me to regain my equilibrium!

    

 

Another wonderful book is the one on the right which Hardy brought home from our church library. It was published in 2003 and I don't know why I haven't become aware of it.
Justina D. Neufeld left Ukraine in 1943, the same year our family did. I was a three-month old baby, Justina was a thirteen-year-old. We were able to leave by train, whereas her family (the father had already been taken from them) left by horse and wagon and endured hardships I cannot even imagine. She was separated from most of her family, but rescued by MCC, eventually travelling to Holland and then adopted by a loving family in the U.S. whose daughter served with MCC in Holland. 

I was so moved by Neufeld's book that I decided to try and contact her, wondering if she was even still alive (as she is thirteen years older than I am). I was able to get in touch with her through her publisher (Pandora Press, Kitchener), and she responded by email informing me that she has just published another book, Justa's Escape: A Journey from WWII Ukraine. It is written for younger readers. She was also interviewed by the oral history department of the National Holocaust Museum  which is interested in non-Jewish survivors of WWII. This woman gives me hope -- she is in her nineties!

Something to Ponder

Those of you who read my blog post in May will recall that
I was excited about an anthology edited by Dora Dueck, entitled 
On Holy Ground, which the Mennonite Brethren Historical Commission had invited her to put together. Dora's book grew out of a wish to write about the "lived experience of women in leadership ministry among Mennonite Brethren." I was one of 15 women asked to contribute to the anthology. Five of the fifteen writers were from Manitoba and four of them participated in a book launch at CommonWord on June 26.

I have been to many book launches as a reader, but never as a writer, which is quite a different experience!

l to r: Laura Kalmar, Laura's daughter (there to support her mom!),
Mary Reimer, Elfrieda Schroeder, Mary Anne Isaak 

(The fifth Manitoba contributor, Lorraine Matties, was unable to attend.)

I enjoyed the book signing. It was fun to chat with people. I met someone I last saw in Congo approximately fifty years ago. I did not recognize him, even after he told me his name. We met only once before and it was an intense experience. 

He had come to Congo sponsored by his church to do Christian service work, but as soon as he arrived he felt that it was not for him. He sat in the rocking chair in our living room and told me how he felt. It was hard for him to admit this, when his home congregation had affirmed and sent him. 

I encouraged him to follow his gut feelings and go back home.
At the book signing he thanked me and told me he had been a teacher and a principal in a Christian private school and was now in retirement after enjoying a fulfilling career. 

Another surprise was not as pleasant. As we were signing, and there were different books on the table, someone told me to hang onto my advance copy because it was not the same as the ones being sold.
I then learned that Mary Anne Isaak, one of the contributors, had been told, by conference leaders (members of the Boards of the U.S. and Canadian Mennonite Brethren conferences who were sponsoring the book), to remove three pages from her chapter. In these pages, in contrast to what she had been taught by her church conference, she explains her gradual conviction that people in the LGBTQ+ community are as worthy as anyone else to be fully accepted in a faith community.

Three hundred copies of the book had already been printed and thirty advance copies distributed by the time the message was conveyed to the director of the Centre for Mennonite Brethren Studies. The board insisted on destroying the remaining 270 books  and reprinting them without the offending pages. There was no explanation given as to why they had to be removed.

This decision baffles me and reminds me of book burnings done eons ago. I don't always agree with everything I read but it makes me ask questions and it makes me think. I don't tear the pages out or destroy the book because I don't agree with what the author writes. 

My conviction as to who belongs in God's kingdom is stated here:

             

"For Further Consideration"

It is June and today it actually feels like June! The sun is shining brightly and the birds are out and about, making their nests. One chickadee pair is nesting right on our deck in a birdhouse that has such a small hole it makes me claustrophobic just watching them crawl in there! 

This morning a little yellow-breasted bird hit our kitchen window and sat on the deck, stunned. Its mate actually came by and checked on it but then flew off. Since then, the stunned one has survived (thank goodness!) and I hope they'll be back building their nest.

These little birds remind me of the frailty of life although I don't really need another reminder as I have had plenty these months. The chickadees building their nest are a happier lot it seems, but life is always lived on the edge, and like the bird who hit the window, we are never prepared for that edge. 

I celebrated a birthday recently, and it was a significant one since this year will be my last one as a septuagenarian. With it comes the recognition more clearly, that, as Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote, 

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be;
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

                                                                                                            (In Memoriam, 1850)

As I wrote in my last post, May was April Fool's month because it felt more like March than May.
So I read more books in May than I normally would.

Last night I attended a book launch -- a highlight for me.The whole event seemed so hopeful in spite of the fact that the author had lost her husband in February 2021.

My friend and fellow writer, Dora Dueck, launched her book Return Stroke: essays and memoir.

I stayed up way too late reading, because I was hooked. I thought to myself: "This is her genre!
She is the author of four books of fiction, but this one, her own thoughts on various topics, is the best one of them all !" 

"How wonderful," the author writes, that our "bits of existence, no matter how ordinary, are available for further consideration--seeing patterns, facing into inevitable death, enjoying the playful circularity of then and now."

This quote (from the back cover) gives me back my equilibrium!  It helps me to see life as a whole, each part being equally significant, and worth living to the fullest!
I'm looking forward to reading more of Dora's book and then reflecting on what I've gained from it.

Return Stroke is dedicated to Dora's husband, Helmut (1951-2021).

April Fools' Month

Usually, April Fools' Day is meant for one day only, the first day of April. It seems to me that this year it was April Fools' Month! The month of April is moody at the best of times, but this year it was downright capricious, and I'm still recuperating. I don't even want to post any of the snow pictures I took, but there were plenty! 

I can't resist posting this one of huge icicles hanging from the roof in front of our kitchen window! It is an illustration of the icy grip winter had on us Manitobans this year. Add to that the horrendous war in Ukraine, several beloved friends in Ontario who passed away suddenly, and Hardy's slow recovery from bladder surgery in March.

But there were also some highlights in April. One morning, when I walked to the mail boxes a block and a half away (and that was no easy feat, climbing over snow banks or sliding along icy sidewalks -- with cleats on my boots no less!), there it was: an anthology by Dora Dueck, entitled On Holy Ground, which the Mennonite Brethren Historical Commission had invited her to put together. 

Dora asked me about a year ago if I would be willing to contribute a chapter to this book. I was one of 15 women included in the anthology. In 2019, Kindred Productions published Doug Heidebrecht's book Women in Ministry Leadership: The Journey of the Mennonite Brethren, 1954-2010. It is a history summarizing the struggle of women in leadership ministry in the MB Conference. Dora's book grew out of a wish to write about the "lived experience of women in leadership ministry among Mennonite Brethren."

It happened to be one of the less capricious days in April when I received an advance copy of the book in our mail box. I walked to the nearby lake, sat on a bench overlooking the lake, and just held the book for a while. Then I read my chapter and memories came flooding over me, of the struggle we had back in the late 1980s and 1990s with the MB conference and their stance on women in ministry.

When I got home I listened to You Are Standing on Holy Ground
[ on YouTube  >>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HisFMCEbHzY ]
and spent the afternoon and the next day reading the stories of other women featured in Dora's book. The song has been with me every day since then!

I was excited to note that one of the contributors to Dora's book is Delores Histand Friesen. In 1996 she edited a collection of sermons by Mennonite Brethren women called All are Witnesses. In it she included a sermon I wrote (but never preached), based on John 20.1-18: Mary Magdalene's encounter with the risen Christ. 

When life gets depressing, I pick up books and they transport me into another world. Some other books I've been enjoying recently:

                      

The book on the left was co-written by two experienced grandmothers.  On the right is Anne Lamott's latest. I love how she gets at serious topics with an earthy sense of humor!

The above is Nadine's first novel. I invited her to our sisters' birthday/book club meeting at the end of May to tell us a bit about how she came to write it and to do a bit of a reading from it. I'm really looking forward to that.

My sweet granddaughter, Lena Kate, sent me a picture taken in their backyard in Glen Allan, Ontario, and I can't wait to see these appearing very soon in our own yard!

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vale and hills.

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

- - - 

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude; 

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

(by William Wordsworth)

A Prayer for Peace

Like most of us, my thoughts these days have been on Ukraine and the horrific slaughter that is happening there. Even though I have no memory of it, Ukraine is the country of my birth. In October 1943, when I was only four and a half months old, our family had to leave under similar circumstances as people are leaving now -- very quickly and with only the barest necessities. We were fortunate to be able to travel by train, as many fled on foot and died en route. Death and destruction were everywhere but I was safely tucked away at my mother's breast, unaware of the danger in which we found ourselves. My two-year-old brother was probably more aware, as were my parents, my grandmother, and my two teenage uncles travelling with us.

That was a long time ago. In 2012 Hardy and I went to Poland and Ukraine to visit the countries of our birth. I will never forget Kyiv and its ornate monasteries that looked like something out of a fairy tale with their colorful domes. 

The Monastery of the Caves has a special memory for me. I somehow got separated from the tour group but found my way back. The Ukrainian guide told me that the group was inside the caves and that I would find my friends there. I wandered around in the labyrinth of mummified bodies and felt pure panic and claustrophobia. Finally, I saw the light of day and the tour group was already outside! I was so happy to return to the land of the living! It felt like a resurrection!

We will be celebrating Christ's resurrection this month and I can't wait for Easter after so much snow. We already spotted a single robin last week, and the next day a whole flock of them settled on a nesting spot occupied by robins last year. They are brave to come when there is still snow everywhere!

This bright yellow gerbera reminds me of the domes in Kyiv, and whenever I look at it I say a prayer that those beautiful monasteries will not be destroyed. The gerbera is a birthday present for our daughter, born in March, and when the warm spring air arrives she will plant it in her garden and together we will continue to pray for peace.

I dedicate this blog post to my former professor, friend, and encourager, the historian and archivist Lawrence Klippenstein. He was an expert on Ukraine and passed away at the beginning of March. He reached the age of 91 and was busy and occupied with projects until the end of his life. He never failed to send me an encouraging email after I posted my blog entries, even following my last one in March where he shared some memories of his childhood. May you rest in peace, good and faithful servant.