Faith in the Future

It has been a beautiful summer filled with family time at my home and at a cottage we rent every summer for a week, celebrating several August birthdays, visiting a couple of Folklorama pavilions,  time at the beach, and sharing my story with a seniors day club.  Perhaps my reluctance to write my August blog post has to do with the fact that summer is on its way out and I want it to last longer.  

My daughter and I recently spent a day at The Leaf, a spectacular indoor horticultural attraction at Assiniboine Park, here in Winnipeg. I was especially looking forward to the Butterfly Garden which had been closed for a while. I was not disappointed! The sign at the entrance (below) seemed particularly appropriate for my mood of not looking forward to change--the seasonal kind, but also the personal!

 

I was reminded of a time at the cottage when I watched a butterfly work its way through a chrysalis. It was awesome! I was captivated by the beauty of its transformation. It did not occur to me that this butterfly might live for a year at the most, its main focus being that of finding a mate and laying eggs.  Since  becoming an octogenarian I have been more aware of the brevity of life.

 

Winnipeg Free Press Columnist, Rebecca Chambers asks the question: "What would it mean to speak our fears out loud? What is the role of people with a megaphone or microphone, people with ink and printing presses and web domains, when the dread creeps up on us and the voices of the past reach our ears with whispered and urgent warnings of how fragile we are, how quickly things can change, and how persistent the evil and neglect of this world is?"

Hope, Tempered by Fire

 

July 27th of this year was World Day for Grandparents and the Elderly. In anticipation of this special day Pope Leo wrote that "hope is a constant source of joy, whatever our age", adding, "when that hope has also been tempered by fire over the course of a long life, it proves a source of deep happiness." Pope Leo encourages the elderly to hope, affirming that even in old age, everyone is able to love and to pray. "Our affection for our loved ones...does not fade when our strength wanes" but instead "revives our energy and brings us hope and comfort." 

Recently my daughter, in charge of a seniors' day club, asked me to speak to them on the topic of "People on the move." Since I'm a poster child for that subject I was happy to oblige, using examples from my own life as a child refugee and later as a church worker in the Congo. 

I did the presentation twice and since I was dependent on my daughter for transportation I spent the whole day there each time and had lunch with the members. I was profoundly moved by this experience and couldn't stop thinking about it.  Many of the members had fairly major physical challenges. One person enjoyed a successful and busy career as an ophthalmologist, but after his stroke he had to have a catheter bag and each move he made proved to be a challenge. A former history professor had Parkinson's and could not speak above a whisper. Yet here they were, socializing and relating as best they could under the circumstances! That takes courage and resilience! So does working with them, encouraging  and helping them  cheerfully and patiently.

Christine and her co worker setting up a challenging game.

Christine, centre, and I with some happy members working on a craft 

A few weeks later I had the opposite experience, spending a week at a cottage with my children and seven of my amazing grandchildren. 

One of my grandchildren sent me this beautiful photo of a dragonfly. To me it is a reminder to meet life's challenges, embrace change and live in the moment.

Abandoned

Recently, on one of my walks along the lake I was surprised to come upon one small gosling sitting by itself. I have never seen any of them without their parents, but there it was, looking lonely and small. I thought maybe it was hurt, so I nudged it with my foot.

 When I poked it, the little gosling got up and trudged along on the sidewalk. 

I followed it for a while, then saw a goose family coming in from the lake. I picked up the little gosling and took it to the edge of the lake, hoping maybe they would take it in with their own family. I have heard that geese will do that. Sadly, they ignored it and went back into the lake again without it. I left the gosling at the edge of the lake, but couldn't stop thinking about it. The next day when I went for my walk I wondered what had happened to that little lonely gosling. It wasn't until I got to the end of the lake that I saw something that gave me hope. 

I saw a pair of geese with just one gosling. Perhaps none of theirs hatched and  they took pity on this lost one and adopted it. 

The picture of the lonely little gosling stayed with me. That could have been my story. I was born during the German occupation in Ukraine in 1943. The Germans were defeated and my parents, my two year old brother and I, a five month old, left Ukraine by train. We ended up in a refugee camp in German occupied Poland. The Germans treated us well. There were lots of young mothers with babies. The director of the camp decided that infants must be separated from their families in another building to avoid the spread of disease. Several nurses were assigned to look after us at night, but our mothers could not see us until the next morning. 

My mother and I are in the second row, fourth from the right. 

It must have been difficult for these mothers to leave their babies in the hands of strangers. The babies  had to adjust to not feeding on demand as well. I have a fairly large scar left by a heating lamp that got too close to my skin when I was treated for a sore, probably due to a lack of diaper change. 

In today's newspaper I read the following:

"Israel's military campaign has killed over 4,000 people in Hamas-run Gaza, mostly women and children ...and left people almost completely reliant on foreign aid". 

I know why I can't forget that little gosling. It reminds me of the horrors I see on the news every night-- children in the Gaza strip, sore and bleeding, desperately holding up empty bowls for food, or Ukrainian children taken from their parents... that could have been me!

Fly Away

 

It always makes me  happy when I see the geese arrive in early spring. Seeing them fly so freely makes me wish that I had wings! Once they are on the ground they seem more awkward. They walk gingerly on the lake which still has a coating of ice, but their instinct  tells them that spring is on the way.

  One morning, on an early spring walk in April, I noticed a goose sitting right at the edge of the lake, just a few feet from the public sidewalk. Another goose stood guard, chasing away any suspected predators. I soon realized it was a mother goose and her mate, who was protecting her and the future offspring! 

One day I noticed the mother goose was not sitting on the nest and I cautiously went closer and took a look. I saw a lot of feathers covering the eggs. I envied the goose, not for having wings this time, but for being able to just sit on the eggs for one month instead of carrying the fetus inside her body for nine months like I did!

At the end of April my goose watching was interrupted . I was offered a chance to fly for a visit to my children and grandchildren in Ontario. I wish I could have used  wings of my own, but instead I had to rely on the awkward way we humans have learned to fly--sitting in the belly of a huge machine filled with other non winged creatures! 

I was happy to leave this flying experience and greet my four Ontario grandchildren. As always, they made me feel so welcome and so loved. One gave up his room for me, another colored pictures with me in a calendar I once gifted her. The grandson no longer living at home took some time off from his holiday with friends to be with me. I got lots of hugs!

To my regret, I had forgotten to bring a diary, but "not to worry, Oma, we have one for you." They had bought me a present--a diary with my emblem on it--the hedgehog--they knew all about the little stuffed hedgehog I used in my German language classes to make self conscious students feel at ease!

Spring comes earlier in Ontario than in Manitoba and I thoroughly enjoyed all the blossoms and the greenery. 

The time to say farewell came all too soon, and once again we entered the belly of the flying machine! I was travelling with my children from Winnipeg and we each had a suitcase that had to conform to a certain size and weight. The Ontario family had gifted their siblings with a giant Ontario salami. They managed to squash it into their suitcase, only to find out at the airport that this made their suitcase too heavy. They asked if they could try putting it into mine. I agreed, of course, doubting it would fit, but they managed to squash it in! To my surprise, and their relief, it did not make my suitcase too heavy! Then we heard the announcement that the plane which we were boarding was going to Dublin instead, and we would be on another plane. For some reason my selected seat had been changed and I ended up in the very back of the plane! My daughter kindly came and sat with me.

When I returned to Winnipeg spring had arrived here as well. I went to check on mother goose and she was still sitting on her nest. Another goose family nearby proudly displayed its offspring, so I think our brave mama goose will soon be able to leave her nest as well! I will go check on her right now! 

Later: She's still sitting there! I have often heard the expression: "silly as a goose." I will change it to "patient as a goose!"

A happy Mothers' Day to all mothers, the silly ones as well as the patient ones! Enjoy your children, you deserve their love!

Curiosity Killed the Cat

 

  A blogger friend, Marian Beaman, recently wrote a post entitled: Too Much of a good Thing. She asked the question: What do you have too  much of?

The answer to that is pretty easy for me. I have too many books! And if you wonder why, it's because I'm a curious person who wants to know things! Even as a child I was like that. I knew that adults had secrets they wouldn't share, because they stopped talking when I came into the room! They did, however, share a Low German saying with me, and I translate:

 "Curiosity has ruined the world, and our Elly has inherited some of it."

I didn't like that saying because it made me feel like I was a bad person just because I wanted to know things. Kind of like Eve in the garden of Eden. She would have been a reader if books had been available in Paradise! Instead, she listened to a snake!

The English equivalent of that saying is "Curiosity killed the cat." Now I'm wondering about its origin  and from what exactly  did the cat die?! Maybe some rat poisoning??

So, I have too much curiosity and that's why I have too many books! They are like friends and I want to keep them all. A former professor of mine had a big library as well, and at his memorial service his children placed a table full of his books in the foyer and people could choose to take books home. By the time I got to that table almost all the books were gone. Some have found a new home in my bookshelves. It spared him the grief of parting with his books and gave his friends back a part of him to keep. (I hope my children are reading this post!). 

I have been going through my  husband, Hardy's things and was delighted to discover a book in the cubby of his office that I had been searching for after he passed away. It was the first present I gave him when we began our courtship. He was in Congo and I was in Canada and we corresponded after he left. I worked in a bookstore and I saw a book that I thought he would relate to. I sent it to him for Christmas. It was written by a young American Mennonite who served a term in Africa (Tanzania) as well. I'm not sure I read it before giving it to Hardy, but I read it again recently, feeling Hardy's presence .

 

Another book in that same cubby which I had not seen before was published in 1955 by the Swiss neurologist and marriage counselor Theodor Bovet (1900-1976) . Bovet wrote it for young men entering puberty.  I was amazed at the insights this author had, including his explanation of homosexuality. I loved reading Hardy's  notes pencilled into the margins! It's written in German originally, but there are English translations of Bovet's books.

My Mennonite readers might be familiar with the book Up From the Rubble by Peter and Elfrieda Dyck. It tells the story of how a large group of Mennonites (including my family) escaped being sent back to Russia by boarding the Dutch ship the Volendam and choosing to go to Paraguay instead.  I have read the book several times. Someone alerted me to a book called Hero for a Hundred: the Story of Herbert Bergen. I had not heard of this man, who also, single handedly, took it upon himself to rescue many people who would have suffered immensely had they been returned to Russia!

Recently my daughter and I attended a book reading about the life of the Jewish poet and musician, Leonard Cohen. I have long been fascinated with his music and how it relates to both the Old and New Testament. The book is a gem.

Those of you who have grandchildren and are interested in saving our planet will enjoy Suzuki's book written for his grandchildren. I found it in my granddaughter's bookshelf and she graciously lent it to me with the words: "I haven't read it yet, Oma, but I intend to one day. Let me know what you think of it". It's a book I read slowly. put away for a while, then picked it up again.

Last, but certainly not least, is a wonderful novel I could not put down. It's not from my bookshelf but was lent to me by my daughter's friend, so it will go back to her. This is a gentle story  about a young boy who is dying. His sister helps him to go through the Valley of the Shadow of Death by talking to C.S. Lewis and reading his Narnia books. This book helped me through my grieving.

After our return from Congo,  I studied and taught German Literature. One day I had a conversation with my mother in which I told her that now I got paid for reading books. There was silence at the other end, then a surprised "ne oba!" (Low German for "no, really!") and "well, you must be getting rich then, because you read a lot!" I didn't tell her that I enriched my knowledge more than my pocket book!

"Be Prepared For Each Season."

In my February blog post, I featured a picture of a wall hanging titled Think Like a Tree, with several options about how a tree might think. I decided to choose one saying each month for myself. The quote I chose for this month is "Be prepared for each season." I like it because I am waiting for spring. The winter has been so long and so cold! 

My small backyard has a large maple tree in the corner.  Looking out my kitchen window one evening, I was surprised and delighted to see a gorgeous sunset, flaming orange and gold. I thanked my tree for reminding me of the beauty of each season, even though I am tired of winter! Since this photo was taken, the snow has mostly disappeared.  Spring is on its way!

A long time ago, a daughter gifted me with a rainbow ceramic, which I recently set on the ledge of my bedroom window. When I walked into the bedroom one afternoon, the colors were reflected on the pillows of my bed. It was stunning!

 

I was reminded of God's promise to Noah that although there are disasters for which we are not prepared, there will be new beginnings. I cling to that promise as I prepare myself for what lies ahead. 

Last year my daughter and I visited Folklorama. I was looking forward to seeing the Japanese pavilion where a friend participated. My daughter wanted to purchase something in her dad's memory so we decided on a fan. We chose the words and my friend painted them on the fan. I kept it for a while and then passed it on to my daughter. She had forgotten the words, and I couldn't remember them either! Neither of us can read Japanese so I texted my friend and she reminded me. The word in the center is spirit and the word on the right is his name, Hardy. His spirit is still with us!

 

"...Gladness may come to us in surprising ways even in our grief." 

(B. Regier, Rejoice, March 3, 2025)

"Hang tough through a cold spell"

 These days I have been at a loss for words. We are well into February and my monthly blog post has not been written. 

What does one say when the world as we have known it suddenly seems to be so threatening? I am a senior and my days are numbered, but what of the years my children and grandchildren have left? What will it be like for them? Will they lose their democracy and their freedom to be who they were created to be? Will they have to leave their home for a safer place? Many in our neighboring, democratic country are forced to do that right now.

I am reminded of a wall hanging I gave to a daughter for Christmas and I ponder the words:

I think about my maternal ancestors, the Epp family, standing under a tree for a family photo, before they left their comfortable life in Ukraine. It was the only home they knew and suddenly it became too dangerous for them to stay. They had lost their father to a typhoid epidemic a few years earlier. My grandmother and her young family chose not to join them on the trek to Canada. That decision caused a lot of suffering and loss for her family. She was reunited with them in Canada in 1944.

My grandmother, second from left in the photo below. She has my mother on her lap, her son beside her, my grandfather behind her.

It is good to remember the past and learn from it. I gave each of my grandchildren a memory box. Grandson Ivan is remembering his Opa with some of the memorabilia he has collected.

"Hang tough through  a cold spell"