"Entering the House of Love"

Those of you who are familiar with my blog postings will realize that the theme of "home" looms large in them. My first blog post introduces the topic, and there are at least a dozen posts in which I write about it. Probably this has to do with being uprooted from my original place of birth in Ukraine when I was just a few months old, and then travelling for four years with no place to call home. 

I think "home" became the place wherever my parents were, where I was loved, accepted and protected. I always had that, and am ever so grateful for it, especially as I realize so many in our world don't. 

People should not have to fight for their right to be appreciated and loved! 

Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany from 2005 to 2021, raised in Soviet-controlled East Germany, realized this in her political career. Frequently referred to as the "most powerful woman in the world," the 61-year-old chancellor met a 14-year-old refugee girl with cerebral palsy who just wanted to stay in Germany and have a normal life. The young girl wept as she said this to Merkel, and something in Merkel resonated and responded. In 2015 Merkel announced "Germany will not turn away refugees". She was told that "to allow one million strangers into Germany is to endanger German civilization." Merkel replied, "I had no choice." Daughter of a Lutheran pastor, this was "her Martin-Luther moment," writes Kati Marton in her political biography The Chancellor.

Merkel took a risk, jeopardizing her political career. She never turned back. 

"In the house of God's love," writes Henri Nouwen, "we come to see with new eyes and hear with new ears and thus recognize all people, whatever their race, religion, sex, wealth, intelligence, or background, belong to that same house. God's house has no dividing walls or closed doors."

What "dividing walls" and "closed doors" have you encountered? How did you deal with them?

I Lost It !

Years ago Hardy gave me a big Bible -- Good News, Colour-Reference Edition. I bought a leather cover with a zipper for it. It has always been my "go-to" Bible for help when I prepare for Bible studies, Sunday School teaching, worship leading, or preaching.

Recently I used it for writing  a set of devotionals. The topic was the prodigal son who wasted his inheritance in extravagant living, was "lost" and returned home to be "found" and welcomed by his father. Just before the story of the prodigal son, Jesus tells several other stories about lost things: salt that has lost its flavour, a sheep that is lost, and a woman who loses a coin (Luke 15).

After spending some time pondering the meaning of these stories, I replaced the Bible on the bookshelf and went on to something else. I soon realized I had left my phone in my office and went downstairs to get it. I saw the charging cord lying on my desk, but the phone was not there. Like the woman looking for her lost coin, I looked in every room of the house, but to no avail! Finally I called husband Hardy who is usually better at finding things than I am. Nothing turned up! 

I finally realized that there is a call button on the phone, which I can activate with my iPad. Sure enough, I heard a faint "ding-ding" downstairs. It was coming from my bookshelf. Both Hardy and I moved books back and forth, but I told him I know for sure I didn't have the phone near the bookshelf. Then I touched my Bible and felt a vibration. "What??" You guessed it, dear reader! My phone had been lying on top of the open Bible. Not realizing this, I had closed the Bible, zipped it shut with the phone still in it and replaced it on my bookshelf!

My blogger friend, Marian Beaman, once wrote about finding her glasses in the freezer, a long time after she gave up looking for them. This is one of those stories. I'm tempted to extrapolate a meaning from this event but I won't! Instead I will point you to several books I'm reading to chase away the January and February blahs. They are also about what is lost, but much more traumatic in the losses they describe than the one I experienced.

                         

I went to hear Sarah Klassen read from her newly published book (The Russian Daughter, which I received as a Christmas present) and was quite amazed at this ninety-year-old retired English teacher, fielding questions with clarity and insight, never mind that she had just written a novel! Her interviewer, a fellow teacher, must have been about the same age. These two women give me hope!
Klassen shared with her readers that her novel was inspired by a story her mother told her when Sarah was a teenager. She hadn't been that interested at the time but the story stayed with her.

Like Klassen, Wiens listened to and collected many stories while preparing to write To Antoine. He carefully researched them and produced a novel that is searing in its recounting of a life first lived in a Mennonite village in Ukraine during the Stalinist era. He goes on to describe his protagonist's young adulthood among genocidal Nazis, his sojourn in Paraguay, and his later judgement as a war criminal. This is a book not easily set aside!

I wish you, my dear readers, the ability to live graciously with the losses you experience in life; to listen to stories and tell them to those nearest and dearest; to live with love in your hearts, not only during this month of love, but throughout the year!

Bring it On

I came across a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) recently that I had not read before, entitled The Death of the Old Year, thought to have been a precursor to his lengthy In Memoriam.

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.

Tennyson goes on for several stanzas to grieve the loss of the past year, begging it to stay with all the gifts it has given him and fearful that those gifts will be taken away in the new year. But the old year is over, and Tennyson must resign himself to face what is about to come:

Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
There's a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.

For Hardy and me the past year has had its challenges and we are glad it's behind us, although we are not convinced that things will change, just because there is a different date on the calendar! But we celebrate the beginning of a new year because we have hope.

We know another spring is coming and we hope to meet it and greet it.

We know that two dear friends have recently made a commitment to each other after losing their spouse and we will celebrate this joyful union in spring.

We know that whatever comes our way, the Spirit of God will accompany us and light our way, whether it is new beginnings or endings.

So in the midst of winter, we celebrate the new year that is to come! 

Bring it on!

Visiting with friends and sharing our stories

How have you celebrated the passing of the old year and the coming of the new one?

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!