Small World, Big Difference

 

Only time for a quick post this morning.

We are between having had a very brief visit with Esther, and a day trip up the mountain to Doi Intanon.

 About Esther.

How cool is it when someone you’ve literally watched grow up in your church family in KW, meets you at Hot Springs near Chiang Mai because she is between ministries in Phuket and Chiang Rai?  There’s just so much wow-ness in that one sentence. 

Many of you would know that Esther Weatherall (link here) is here in Thailand for a year plus, working with For Freedom International (link here?) and their ministry with individuals involved in human trafficking.  I’ll let you go to the links to get the full impact of what that means.  For now I’ll just say that it was a gift for Ken and I to be able to spend yesterday afternoon and evening together with you Esther, having som tum with the kids and Ahjahn Gaow, and having you both lead us in our evening time of worship.  Godspeed for what’s ahead.

 About Doi Intanon.

A day trip that we anticipate will be a breath of fresh mountain air, with accompanying vistas, and the beauty of the Royal Gardens that are there.  Consider this a similar excursion as when we might take Suradet and Yupa to Niagara Falls.  An anniversary treat we just couldn’t get at home.  Pictures to follow.

Wishing everyone a fabulous first day in August!

The Perfect Not Perfect Bai Teo*

 

[*Thai phrase meaning ‘out for fun’ or ‘an outing’]

Our first concern is the weather forecast.  Can you even operate a Waterpark if there are thunderstorms forecast for basically the whole day?  Suradet and Yupa don’t seem concerned.  They are relying more on their ‘feel’ for how the sky looks than the weatherap.  Okay.  I’ve learned to trust their instincts, so we’re still on.

Next is the confusion about opening time and when we should leave.  Originally, we would have spent most of the morning in the water and ended up going out for lunch.  But a double check of the website and we’re now on for eating an early lunch here and spending the afternoon. 

I admit that already I’m feeling like this isn’t going at all how I imagined.  I’m glad, actually, for the morning to recoup from a jet-lag-hanging-on bad night’s sleep, and I end up getting in another hour after breakfast.  First naps, if you will.  But there’s a delay in the excitement build-up. 

Here I pause for a recap.  This is ‘the outing’ Ken and I have planned for while we are here.  And all the other plans had come together so nicely.  People had helped toward the costs of taking a family of 23 (by the time you include the adults) out for the day.  Even here in Thailand, that adds up.

 

We were also considering this something of our anniversary party.  The ‘event’ that would mark the astonishing connection between all that God has written into the story of our marriage, and the beautiful love-work of New Family Foundation.

Plus, there’s the kids themselves, eager to get going since an outing like this doesn’t happen very often at all. 

But eventually, we are off.  It’s just a short ride into Sankampeng, about 20 minutes, and enthusiasm is running high.  We arrive and step out to an intense sun – so much for the weather forecast – and make our way to line up.  A tad overwhelmed by the bigness of the entranceway, both Bee-Mai and Goon, come alongside to take my hand.  As we walk I realize I am having two intense responses.  One is this truly lovely Gramma moment.  And the other is a desperate hope that once inside we’ll be able to find some shade!!!

 

There’s a measuring board and we figure out our categories and organize ourselves accordingly.  Then wait a just a bit for our turn.

 

Okay no.  Only swimsuits are allowed, and none of us have one.  They’ll sell us one for 450 baht a piece (that’s $18 CDN x 23).  None of the information was on the website.  So, um.  Not in the budget and highly impractical given how often they’ll actually be used.  After a bit of conversation between the adults, and an explanation to the children, we decide this is not our destination after all.

 

It’s starting to feel like our day in unravelling a bit. 

I’m fairly used to ‘going with the flow’ while here in Thailand.  Lots of times thing don’t happen the way you think they will.  When I was here for three months, it once took an entre day to get a haircut.

But today is about the kids.  What now?  We’re all primed for an adventure, and it’s hot enough to really, really want to get wet.

 

Here we pause for another observation.  The kids are taking it in stride.  Yes, you can see the disappointment on their faces.  But there is not one single bit of whining, not one tear.  Nothing but a patient waiting for the adults to figure this out.

 

Which we do.  Or so we think.

 New plan (what’s this, plan D by now?).  We’ll head further into Chiang Mai and check out a place called The Grand Canyon.  Lots to do in the water there, apparently.   Pile everyone back in the vehicles and of we go for another 45 minute drive to the new place.

While we’re driving, it starts to rain.  Hard.  Ooookaaaay.

But when we arrive, the rain subsides and things look promising,  at first.  Entry fee is reasonable, especially considering anyone 8 and under gets in free.  That’s seven of us!  The ticket stubs are also good for discounts on drinks later, if we like.  Not sure about that yet, but we’ll see.

And in we go.

The place is massive.  A human-made Grand Canyon sort of deal that, we find out very soon, has activities more suited for young adults that children, zip line and cliff diving among them.  But over there, way down there, is an inflatable kiddie pool with a built-in slide.  And just a little further, complete with life jackets and other equipment, you can go kayaking, take out a paddle boat, or just jump in the water and float around on a tube.

None of it is as new and polished as the waterpark would have been.  The bamboo bridge between two sections is kinda rickety.  And standing on the one platform, you can’t mind that you’ll get your feet wet.  But it suits us in our wide range of ages just fine.  And, well, we can get wet.

Now, the little side note here is what’s also happening at the park that day.  A group party (later on a poster I’ll see it called a ‘day rave’) has booked the place, not exclusively, but they are playing loud boom-box music and, well partying in ways young adults party when it’s hot and there’s water.  All of them farangs (foreigners), non of them inhibited.   And that’s all I’ll say about that.  Except that I loved how confidently our group just went ahead and took their turns and got out in the boats and played on the floating platforms.  At least we had the entire kiddie pool to ourselves.  And who knows.  Maybe we had a tempering effect on the activities?

 

The water fun is only interrupted by appetites.  Bee-Mai comes to ask me “Gin cao?”  Can we eat now?  And we discover that the hostess to the restaurant on the premises is favourable to our work, the fact that we are a charitable foundation, and gives us a discount on all the food we end up eating, including the ice cream at the end.

Throughout the day, Ken and I mostly just watch.  You need several pairs of eyes on things when you have that many kids playing in the water.  But even more, it was just the deep and sweet satisfaction of seeing our kids making a memory.  I am especially conscious of a few of our newer kids whose stories are more difficult.  To see them abandon themselves to joy…..you just can put a price on that.

So was it a good day?

Absolutely.

Largely because we kept adjusting as we went, and kept our attitudes positive.  Yes.  That.  I need to keep remembering that.

But mostly because the kids really did have fun, and we made a pretty awesome memory together.

We cannot say enough how grateful we are for those who helped make this day happen.

It's Not the Heat, It's the Humility

 

When you tell folks you’re heading to Thailand in July, there’s often an initial response of concern about the weather here ‘this time of year’.

It’s hot, yes, I explain. But mostly I find that the fact that it’s summer in Canada too, and, like this summer, I’ve already experienced a fair bit of heat, the adjustment factor is not that significant.

More, it’s about the humidity.

Yes. And so right now, I’m hot and sweaty.

I guess it doesn’t help that we included a rousing bit of hop-around with the old favourite song “Your Everlasting Love” as part of our Fruit of the Spirit lesson on Love. For those who might not know, this song involves a full aerobic workout if you do it right. Side note: I’m always sure this will be the year they get tired of it, but no. It’s back by popular demand for every visit. And it’s always fun to watch the expressions on the new children who are bounding back and forth with God’s love being higher and deeper and reaching out to me, in a brand new way for them.

So much fun. And tonight, so much sweat.

Being here in sweaty July (believe me it’s worse in May, right Megan Ogilvie?) instead of drier, cooler November or February makes sense this year though. Our time here is meant to mark 45 years of marriage on August 19. And while our departure date is August 8, in an evet-oriented rather than a time-oriented culture, this is perfectly okay.

And pretty sticky.

But right here I need to come clean (and dry) and inform you that we are enjoying the not-luxury-but-survival air conditioning in our room. Even in November I’ll put it on at low for afternoon rest time. But now, in July, we have it running all night.

First night we tried to tough it out. Just used the room fan.
Nope. Not going to be okay, that.
Not if either of us wants to be of any use to anyone for any reason the next day.

My first few trips I felt differently about ‘indulging’ in such Western conveniences. Well, I guess at first, before we came alongside this work here, they didn’t have the resources themselves to install AC in a guest room. But even if they had, it seemed somehow counter intuitive to the ‘toughing it out missionary’ image I had in my mind ever since that ‘toughing it out missionary’ who came to my church when I was eleven described life here. Bugs, spicy food, snakes, unbearable heat, complex language. Who wants to come, he said. And I said, I do! I was elven, like I already said.

That was 55 years ago.
Believe me, my 66 year old body felt it after we did the song.
In the heat.
Also, I am apparently vain enough to notice how droopy I look in all the pictures. Just sayin.

Okay, here’s where I’m finally going to get to my point.

For what I do here, I need all the support I can get. From folks back in Canada, and – here’s the thing – from those I have come to serve. And that goes way further than just using the AC. It’s leaning into the back and forth humility of needing each other; the symbiotic nature of what it means to truly have reciprocity and balance and equality between us. And I don’t even think I’m touching the littlest bit of this here, explaining it properly using my survival need for AC in July, to really get to how this works.

Maybe I’m too hot, and my brain is just a little mushy. Jet lag is still a thing too actually.

So today we will play in the water.

A trip to the Waterpark in Sangkampeng is the plan for this happy, hot, sticky Saturday.
You can bet more pictures and videos will follow.
And we humbly thank those who made the extra contributions so we can do this.
I asked last night, and not one of our kids has ever been.
Here’s to new and cooler experiences!

And a few photo of flowers, because, they don't seem to look droopy in the heat.

Hope your Saturday is wild and comfortable and humbling,
and whatever you need it to be.

The Bigger Story in Every Book

 

They literally run to the guest house if they see the books are out. Somehow along the way of developing an English reading initiative here at Hot Springs, we’ve managed to achieved the happy goal of making reading fun.

I think the prizes may have helped.

Here’s how it goes.

Whenever myself or any team from Highview comes for a visit, we read with the kids. They receive one check mark for every book that either they read (if it’s at their level and we’re working on word identification, spelling and such) or that is read to them (when it’s more about just hearing the words and rhythm of English). There are 30 books to a card. Each card is numbered.

When all the check marks on the card are filled, that evening the child will be invited to choose from a selection of prizes. The prizes get a bit more exciting the more cards you fill. Stickers and small note pads, little bracelets and wrist bands for Card One. Lego and hard cover books with CD’s and snowmen by the time you get to Card Five. And so much more in between.

We’re only here for two weeks, so five cards are probably all we’ll get to. I think. I hope. But when you are able to read in groups, and that counts as a check mark for each person in the group, and when you have a lovely little library of English readers at various levels, each card can actually fill up quite quickly. This time there will be two readers, Ken and myself, so that will help.

I should take the time here to thank once again everyone who participated in our Book Gathering campaign through Usborne Books a few years ago now. And also anyone who’s donated any others to our cause. It has sometimes taken several different trips to bring them all here, due to weight restrictions on luggage, but with this trip I have now transported all of your gifts of love.

Today we got started.

The kids are off school, so we were able to set ourselves up just before lunch. And we read and read and read.

English is a core part of the school curriculum in Thailand. The government recognizes the advantage of not just individual citizens, but the entire country, to be able to communicate well with the rest of the world. Children who show proficiencies in English, and who can further their language skills throughout high school, are often favoured for the kinds of programs that lead to better vocational opportunity.

We know that not all of our kids will excel in English. But if we can give them some exposure and make it fun, they are that much further ahead.

And in any case, they have fun, we have fun, and it’s an easy, relaxed way to build our relationships with them.

If any of our kids achieve the completion of Card Five that will mean 150 books were read. And each book with so many English words…

This morning was a very good start. Ken's little group was made up entirely of the newer children here, and at first they were not quite sure what they were supposed to do. But with all of Ken's sound effects and antics (Does anybody know Robert Munch's "Andrew's Loose Tooth?" Yeah, like that.) they got into it soon enough.



In my group, I think we still favour the "That's Not My..." series (Cow, Snowman, Polar Bear, Elephant) for it's repetition. The "What is Poo?" book always seems to make it into the pile somehow (pun not intended).

Book titles notwithstanding, it all counts.

The more of life I have to look back on, the more I realize how much it’s the collection of little things that really matter in the end.
If check marks on a chart can add up to some happy prizes, so can the simple act of reading be part of a much bigger story.

Photo note: The snowmen I brought with me were originally donated to one of our online fundraisers by one of our Sponsors (Betty Ann Howes) and have now made their way here. The kids are fascinated with snow and snowmen, so this will really provide some good motivation.)

So happy whatever day it is when you are reading this.
For Ken and I right now it's Friday and almost time for lunch.

Jet lag is not packing as much of a punch by now, but we're still planning on an afternoon nap, just sayin.

"Told Ya"

 I’m not expecting this at all, even though I’m pretty sure I should have been.

We come in quietly to morning worship thinking we’d be the first ones.  Suradet had said it would start at 5:30, and we had heard the morning bell ring at 5:00 because we’d been up for a bit already.  It’s one of the advantages of jet lag in the first few days.  If there’s something going on at the crack of dawn (which there always is), we’re on it.

I tell Ken I want to take advantage of the cooler temperatures and head over before everyone else to start prepping the white board for this evening’s lesson.  But when we get to the meeting room everyone is already there, just quietly waiting.  For us.  And we’re 15 minutes early.

This is not, not what I am expecting, if you catch my double negative here.  Because, it’s like that sometimes in the mornings.  And while I still find it culturally interesting that stated times don’t really mean much, and that so many children can assemble and wait oh so quietly, sleepiness notwithstanding, it doesn’t really surprise me.

It’s when Wara arrives that things start down a more surprising path.

We have already started our time of prayer and singing when she comes to sit down in the circle across from us.  As soon as I see her I get Ken’s attention, and we all make appropriate-for-the-fact-that-we’re-still-singing-and-praying kind of excited-to-see-you faces and gestures.  I didn’t know she would be here!

Wara is one of our earlier girls, arriving to Hot Springs thirteen years ago when she was nine.  Her father had not been in the picture for some time already.  Her mother is a devote Christian.  Their village was small and poor and had no school.

Fast forward to today.  She stopped in to Hot Springs late last night, coming back from Chaing Rai where she has just completed a two-month off-site course in pursuit of her studies at Bangkok Bible School.  She’s on her way to a ten-month pastoral internship before she returns to complete her final year in class. 

Her face, her being there alone was a truly joyful surprise.  As is completely in the agreement, Wara’s faithful Sponsors who had carried her through from age 9 to 18, opted to end their sponsorship when she left high school.   New Family Foundation remains committed to properly launching our children into their adult lives, so Ken and I took her sort of under our wing.  And delighted to do so.  Because there was something about Wara that made me wonder, “pastorally gifted”? 

And here she is.

Okay, do the double take here.  I said “pastoral internship” and described her as “pastorally gifted”, and I’m talking about a young Thai woman.  Woman.  Thai.  And without getting too deep into a cultural-theological discussion about egalitarianism’s embryonic state in this part of the world, let’s just say she’s going to be a front runner here. 

During morning worship, Suradet invites her to share a few words to encourage us.  She does so without hesitation, with a clarity and confidence that only enhances her humility.  I’m jet-lagged, it’s morning and my Thai is decidedly ‘rusty’.  But I understand enough to know that she is most certainly a teacher.

Later, before she leaves for her internship assignment, we chat together in the office.  That’s where I realize what’s happened here, and that for some reason it is catching me off guard.

 I affirm her developing spiritual gifts and encourage her to go with God as far as He takes her.  I tell her I think she has what it takes to serve Him as a pastor.  That I put no pressure on her for that at all, but just to encourage her that this is what I see.

 And she thanks me for my role in her life as a supporter and sponsor and that, when it comes to being a woman pastor in an environment that’s not sure it’s ready for such a thing, I have been her example.

Women together serving God as we believed we have been gifted to do so.

“Told ya”, I hear Whispered to my soul.

 Back when I was stepping into this role myself, and many, many times since over the course of pursuing a ministry where I was often enough overtly discouraged, wondering if I could make a difference in any meaningful way, labouring within a misunderstanding that “effective” means having a big church, God more often than often enough brought strength and courage to carry on.  There was good work, big-how-God-measures-big outcomes in the works and He wanted me doing what I was doing.  Time after time, and by many various means He said such things.

 And here today, a little visit from Wara that I wasn’t expecting, brings a reassurance that I should have been.   It matters.  God’s good on His word. 

Later, in the heat of the day, I am feeling it as I lay out the evening’s lesson on the whiteboard, exactly a the time of day I had been hoping to avoid his morning.   But I couldn’t help but be reminded again that the little by little bits I have written on the board will be gathered and put to use by a loving Father who has good plans for His daughters and sons.

Reading with the kids begins tomorrow.  There’s no school!  Did I mention this yet?  The king’s birthday and another festival combine to give us 6 days at home together (plus a rather big surprise for Saturday).

There’s more to come.

In so many ways.

The Swarming Hug Thing

It’s that first time you lay eyes on each other in a long while, and they are many but you are one (or two).

For Ken and I, it doesn’t happen until we step into the meeting room for evening worship time.  Just the timing of things; our arrival, our need for a jet-lag survival nap, their return from school, when supper is served.  No proper first-greeting has yet taken place.

But coming through the door, there it is.  That one who sees us first and says our names with a burst of yay, and comes running.  This alerts everyone else, and there’s a slow-mo, over-the-top moment of happy swarming.   The only thing to do is to stop right where you are, put down anything you are carrying, and attempt to receive as much of this joyful connection as you possibly can in the moment.

I can’t express how much this always means to me. 

Of course, hugs are beauteous anyways.

Hugs from children are especially phenomenal.

But happy, running, swarming hugs from kids you know deeply as being ‘from your heart’ (aka grandchildren), that’s breath-snatching.

Last time, last November, when I came by myself for three weeks following an almost three-year absence, something was off in this.  I wrote about it (Hokey Pokey), painfully remembering the easy, attentive connection of every other single time here, that has been such a big factor of why this family is family. 

I wanted to be patient with the ‘trauma=informed’ process of rebuilding trust necessary due to pandemic travel realities, and wait for their cues.  We are humans in a crazy world, and these are young humans already exposed to traumas of varying sorts my white-privileged experience can’t ever fully understand.  Trust is delicate. 

So last time, last November, I did my best to remain emotionally available.  Followed their cues, not really sure if it was working.

But by tonight.  Well. 

Like you I suspect, I often wonder just how did they capture ‘that moment’ on video or picture to post it online?  For this, no one was assigned.  And I for sure had my hands full.  So, I do not have a picture of the swarming hug thing to put with this post.

No matter.  I do have a picture of the now-famous salt and pepper shakers that, earlier in this story, when I truly had no words to describe how painful was our planet-stretched separation, helped convey my love and commitment even then.  And it’s only grown by now.   Bonus feature of this picture, though, is how our Sponsored Child Eak, who is 17 now but into sculpting things back then, made this replica.  It's as if he captured somehow the significance of it all, even then.

I have the Thai words now, so…or….maybe I don’t.  Because in English or Thai, how can this actually be described, explained, articulated in mere words?  Really, how can it?

 What I did get pictures of, however, was every child with what they received from their Sponsor in their packets (or envelopes for the older teens).   If all goes well for today’s plan (code for, if jet-lag doesn’t crush too much) I will do my best to send a personal email to each of the Sponsors.

We’re really here!

And I suppose I should say it’s so lovely for me to be here with my best hugger ever.

Sunrise Over Taipei

I was actually hoping this would happen.

That once we landed in Taipei, our layover area would indulge me in my addiction to take pictures of the rising sun. The angle isn't great, but enough to realize again that we are on the other side of the world, already into Wednesday morning, safely through the first and longer part of our journey.

I am also excited to post this picture of me with my feet up, with apologies to all my Thai friends for whom feet aren't quite so polite. But in the lower portion of the Taipei waiting areas are these recliners and I have always envied the blessed folks who get there in time to claim one.

 

Today that's us!

So a short but long enough layover to collect ourselves, freshen up a bit, and hunker down into the last 5 hour flight to Chiang Mai. No re-routing through Bangkok like last time. Yay for that.

Suradet and Yupa have been sending us pictures of their grocery cart and the specialty cereals they've been able to get in anticipation of having Ken at their breakfast table. They've gone all out and I think there's a box of Oreo-themed crunchies waiting. It's already a good holiday.

Or visit. Or ministry trip. Or exotic 45th anniversary destination celebration. Not ever really sure how to answer the question, is this business or pleasure? Ummm...

Yes, it's very much what I do now, and Ken too as a co-representative of New Family Family Foundation in a volunteer capacity. Ministry. Work. It's my job. I have significant materials with me for the preaching and teaching and leading of meetings that will happen while we're here. And it's a full 15 hour day, split in the middle for a rest when the day gets crazy hot. In a summer that has included already some great opportunities for rest and restoration, the next few weeks will definitely press me strongly into 'work mode'.

But how can you call it a job when they call you "Mom"?
Pastor Mom, sometimes. And Ken is "Paw Ken".
How can you call it work when there's jumping and laughing and singing and little voices reciting wonderful things from God's love letter to them?
How can you call it that when you're heart is all in?

For sure, I have to say, that with my feet up for the first time since I snuck in a nap at home more than 24 hours ago, it's feeling all luxury at the moment.

Ken says hi and that he's glad the vending machine has Coke and that we had the right kind of money to put into it. Oreos and Coke. What can I say? He's not hard to please :).

So Happy Wednesday already, everyone.
We're in good spirits. A little weary but not even that much, really.
We'll let you know when we land.

Note: That's 10:30 a.m. Wednesday in Thailand and 11:35 p.m. Tuesday. Don't stay up. :)

Twenty-Four Hour Turnaround

I've been up and at it since 6:30 a.m. and am at the point where I can either keep on packing into the minute details, or have a nap and do it correctly a little later on.

Our ride doesn't arrive until 9 p.m. so there's time.
I think.

In this twenty-four hour crazy space, it's hard to tell where I am, where I've just come from, and where I'm going. Except all of those things are also very strongly part of the collision of the copious amount of details competing for my attention right now.

I don't mind.

I have had the absolutely astonishing gift of more than a month in a place of peace and joy. AND, in a matter of days I will be, Lord willing, settling into yet another place of peace and joy. And with Ken this time!!!

So what's twenty-four hours of spin? Nuthin' in comparison.

Still.

I do hope I get all the things put in all the right bags and weighed properly and stay relatively relaxed. I noted to myself that I now that I'm starting to get a bit on the edge when I'm working with zippers and ziplocks and binder clips and such, and I start to honestly believe that they are sentient beings deliberately being difficult.

Our flight doesn't leave until 1:45 a.m. I'll be up waaaayyyy past my bedtime (right Roger Bowman and Travis Golem?).

So maybe I should stop and try to get in that nap.

I must say it was a happy delight to come home to things flowering in the garden. (I'm not showing the back garden because...weeds.)

Friends, with internet being only sometimes available, and all the time changes, and the long times of being on the plane, I am not at all certain how often I'll be writing over the first part of this week.

We will certainly provide the updates as we go. Layovers and arrival and such. But if there's a bit of radio silence in the next little bit, that's why.

And can I just say again how very much we so deeply appreciate all your support on so many levels. None of this would be happening at all if it weren't for the generous love of Sponsors and Supporters who care about God's children on the other side of the planet. You guys rock, in case no one's told you lately.

Okay. Starting to feel even a bit more nappish than I did when I started writing.

More when I get the chance.

Sunday Morning Paddle Praise

"My heart, O God, is steadfast,

I will sing and make music with all my soul...
For great is Your love, higher than the heavens;
Your faithfulness reaches to the skies.
Be exalted, O God, above the heavens;
let Your glory be over all the earth."
Psalm 108:1,4-5

An astonishing morning of glory, for my last (for a while) paddle around the island, prompts much praise.

How can I do anything but praise You?
Thank You for these weeks of restoration
making my heart steadfast,
and bringing so much music to my soul.
Thank You for the blessings of family,
both near and far,
and the adventures You take us on,
wild and loving Father.

Thank You Spirit, laying still, so still on the water.
Thank You Jesus, making it all possible.
Faithful, faithful Yahweh.

Home.

Saturday of Strange Goodness

 

It's unusually quiet on our little bay today, for a Saturday at least. The sounds of loons, and blue jays, and wrens, and the breeze; and the white on blue of the clouds giving way to the full out sunshine, and an odd mosquito -- that's what with me on the deck.

Still, today feels more like a work day all of a sudden. There's a list and time lines and a bit of pressure for getting it all done since tomorrow we leave this place for a while. Laundry and packing and baking some cookies (to take with me to Thailand for the kids), and cleaning up all the happy mess 10 of us made. The cottage will be in use while we're gone and we'd like to leave things in good shape for them.

And there's all the last minute trip prep and ministry prep. Most of it's been done on purpose before everyone got here, but there's always the stuff you can't do until just before. And checking it all off.

So I won't be on the deck too much today, except perhaps to write some emails.

And I will sneak off to pick some more blueberries. And as seen in the picture above, I've already been out on the water this morning (trip number 21 by the way).  And I bet Ken and I will have one last game of Scrabble tonight before bed.

So what is today?
A cottage day.
A transitional day.
A git 'er done day.
A quiet day.
A packing day.
A baking day.
A Saturday of strange goodness.

I am reminded of the simplicity of a psalm put to song.

Psalm 118:24

"This is the day that the LORD has made;

we will rejoice and be glad in it."

I am rejoicing in the simplicity of that.
And if you know the song and now you can't get that tune out of your head, sorry (not sorry).

Whatever is on for your Saturday, peace and blessings to you!!

And They're Off!!

 

After two robust weeks of reveling in my blessings, I am now -- sitting down.

This after two loads of laundry are on the line, with more to come tomorrow. Front room and kitchen floors swept, and mostly everything put back to adult-mode. Mostly.

I'll find marbles hidden under things for at least three more sweeps. And a sock or too. And hopefully Timothy's wide-brimmed sunhat. And maybe, if I'm lucky, one of Jayden's many notes where he practiced writing one of this summer's most memorable events - if you're a six year old boy. "I saw a rattlesnake." (Don't worry. The snake was small and Jayden was accompanied by several adults. No reptiles, or children, were harmed in this encounter.)

We did it. All ten of us. And our building and reclaiming projects these past few years have really paid off in that it felt like we had just a little more room. Teens take up more room generally, and it really helps to have a second bathroom with ten people. It just does.

We did so much in just two weeks!!! My photo downloads will take a bit of time, I'm thinking. And really, it's going to be a strange time of reflecting and processing our family time at the cottage, because oh so soon we'll be on our way to Thailand. Good thing for the long plane ride.

So. Just two more days here before heading home.
Then just one day home before boarding our first flight.

Who planned this summer?
Oh yeah...me. :)
And I'm lovin' it.

And now that I'm sitting down...wondering about maybe a nap?

==

Oh Beloveds, thank you! For being here and being you and us being all together like this. My Gramma's heart, my Mama's heart is full. So grateful. This gift. I can't even!!!

Safe home, Lovelies.  

"Gramma, tell us again about that time...."

Mostly today I’m just doing pictures.

And yes, a picture is worth 1000 words.

Because each tells a story within the story of our lives.

Family is story.

And we write our story together not knowing at all what’s in the next chapter.

Not even liking what’s been in some of the chapters that came before this one.

Just living out this one with integrity and joy.

Family is story and the story can be messy sometimes.

And it can be bright and sandy and hilariously fun in the water sometimes.

And ice-cream-all-over-your-face sometimes.

And blueberry pies sometimes.

And quiet kayak rides with beloveds sometimes.

I can be all of us being honestly us, flexing and gracing and cheering and loving.

Ten thousand words are not enough.

So today, pictures.

But yes, I indulge the stories when asked.

Numbering

 

I am mindful of the day.

In just seven more of them I expect Ken and I to have landed in Chiang Mai, been greeted at the airport, stopped in at the “Big C” mall for lunch and to exchange currency, then have arrived to Hot Springs to settle in for a well needed nap.

Before that we will finish up our family time here, likely with a visit to Giant’s Tomb beach later today.

Then we’ll see them off on Friday, spend just two more days here, then head home for a 36 hour stint before the transportation service to the airport arrives Monday night at 9.

All these details, and all the images and lists they conjure in my mind are only vague and misty right at this moment.

Because I am mindful of the day.

This morning the water is like glass for almost the whole hour it takes to paddle around the island.

Even the open water.   I can give only sideways attention to all the things that are about to happen in the next seven days, because right now, at the beginning of this one, it seems I may have slipped between the cracks of time and space into another dimension.  One where all is calm, all is bright.

“Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom,” says the psalmist (90:12).

I feel I am numbering here on the water.  Considering, appreciating, being fully present in the moment of it, knowing I will be fully present also in the other spaces and moments that are about to abundantly fill the days to come.

It’s only recently that I’ve learned this skill, if you can call it that.  This ability to “be in” all the deep spaces of my life that bring resonance and joy and demand much and give much.  My home of 45 years in Waterloo.  This home of 50 years on Georgian Bay.  And the home where I belong at Hot Springs for 15 years now, since we’re counting.

What a morning!

This one.

Right now.

Oh the abundance of my numbered days!

God grant me the wisdom to not waste a single moment.

Son on the Water

 

In the midst of the happy chaos that is cottage family time, there are moments.

Like this.

Sunday night just David and I, out in the kayaks on waters flat with healing.   I find myself vibrantly present in this hour.   The only gentle noise is our strong and rhythmic strokes, the sound of us of quietly being us, mother and son, in the simplest way possible.

Minimal words. 

Maximum inspirations, slowly.

We tuck into the second secluded bay along the route, and there is the sun all red and giving way to the end of another run across the heavenlies.  And there is my son all muscular and pushing forward into the stillness of it.

Like this.

I feel as if I am in the very centre of many prayers answered.

It makes me braver somehow. 

For him. 

For all of us.

And I take none of it for granted.

Take no credit, how dare I?

This is grace, all of it.

Grace upon grace.

Like the sun on the water with the son on the water.

Simple and magnificent, as long as I’m living…

 

Tomorrow's Blueberries

 

We are thinking about pies.  That’s how good the blueberries are this year.

It seems all the particulars of what blueberries need to be plump and plentiful have come together in just the right ways to make this season a joyful one.  Especially when you have so many eager hunter-gatherers on hand who aren’t “persnippity” about being out in the bush.

Yesterday, it started rather simply.  Timothy and I with a little cup, checking the small, easily accessible bush under the clothesline.  But when that turned out to be so very abundant, we just kept going until first Jayden, and the older ones had to join in.  Because….so…many…blueberries.

What a bonus for us that our property has some very well established patches.  And while we don’t get a good harvest every year, when we do, we hardly have to go out the door.

 

With new blueberry pickers now on the team, a few reminders are important.  Wear bug spray, step carefully, hold your cup upright, and it’s okay to eat a few as you go, but we need enough for the pie.

And another reminder.  Don’t pick tomorrow’s blueberries.

The big, dark ones are what we’re after.  The smaller ones that are still white, of course we leave those to ripen.  But the tricky ones are the ones that are a good size and deep red, and they look like maybe they’re ready…but they’re not. 

Those are tomorrow’s blueberries. 

I receive this reminder myself every year when I’m gathering.  Because, while it’s obvious when picking blueberries, reaching into tomorrow is a subtle temptation for those of us who contend with workaholism and/or an addiction to productivity.  I find myself often pressing into the work in ways that I hope might give me a head start, or a leg up, or even just a sense of satisfaction that I got more done than the day had in mind.

Planning, sure.  Reverse engineering and anticipating outcomes or needs is normally what I bring to the table, and serves well the people and vision we are accomplishing together.  Productivity in itself, is certainly a good thing.

But sometimes impatience with myself or others robs me of the best.  

What if I just waited for tomorrow’s new energies?  

What if what I want to fix ‘right now’ will resolve itself if I just give it time?

What if I just left an idea to ripen a bit before pursuing any further action?

There is a relinquishing of control in waiting for tomorrow’s blueberries.  Something like what I think God wanted His people to learn when He only sent them a day’s worth of manna at a time (Exodus 16).  Who’s really in charge here?  The one who wants to make a pie, or the One who ripens the berries?

Monday it is today.

We had a ripper thunderstorm last night, but I do think we’re good to put in some laundry today.

And of course we’ll be out in the blueberry patch again today…to get those berries we left yesterday!

Family Sabbath

 

Something sacred happens in the hours between lunch and supper on Sundays. It's as if there's a very respected, very understood "Do Not Disturb" sign just hanging on the door of the day.

Even with a cottage full of family, there's an easy quietness as the grown ups (and even a teen or two) take turns laying down for a bit. The little ones, who are ironically past napping by now, write little notes to their friends about the rattlesnake they saw, or help Grandad fold up the tarp that (mostly) kept everyone dry in yesterday's rainy boat ride.

And it's easy and slow and sacred.

Family reading, family resting, family snacking on what's just available there on the table for grazing.

Families observing Sabbath is an ancient tradition. And while we now normally operate as separate households, today I am feeling all matriarchal and rested in the midst of the gentle presence of all of us, just being.

Just together.

No where to go and nothing to do

except just be here in this sacred space.

There are times when your blessings gather

and you realize

how very much

your cup runs over.

Hiding in Plain Sight

I find it frustrating and disappointing, maybe even a little sad that I can send them so easily flapping when I didn’t even see them in the first place.

Any heron standing motionless is perfectly camouflaged in the reeds. Remarkable, really, this superpower. Just stay still and no one will even know you are there. But inevitably me and my kayak get “too close,” and I’m startled by the sudden “whoofing” of the rather large wings of rather large bird that was invisible just seconds before.

Getting a picture is for all intents and purposes almost impossible. I settle for a shot of the still waters along the short where it just moments ago watched my approach. I think Bruce Y Ogilvie posted one not too long ago that was stunning, taken on an early morning walk.

But for me, in the kayak, not so much. How can I even reach for my camera if the first time I’m noticing this magnificent creature is when it’s all kerfuffled and flapping about on fearful presumptions of self-protection?

And so unnecessary. I get that instinct kicks in, and why it’s needed. But oh. I wish there was some way I could let my long-legged, skittish friends know that I in no way mean them harm. I would so love to get to know them better.

But we’re like this sometimes, I think. Some of us anyways. So convinced that our vulnerabilities are so obvious that we find ourselves flapping about in the making of excuses, or apologizing for something no one even noticed until we brought it up. Overly self-conscious, unnecessarily anxious, very convinced it’s dangerous to let someone be too close, in case they figure out we’re standing here in whatever reeds our insecurities have pulled around us.

Never mind me.

I’ll just get out of your way and make a big to do about it as I do.

If we really didn’t want folks to notice, all we had to do was to stand still.

Because truth be told, all those folks are thinking more about what they are hoping to hide from us, never knowing we’re hiding too.

And here the heron thing starts to fall apart a bit. Because other than other herons, I’m not sure who a heron can trust. But they must, eventually. Trust another heron. Because otherwise how would there still be herons?

And it’s true that not everyone paddling by has to know our secrets and vulnerabilities. But eventually someone should. Or a few selected someones. People who have proven trustworthy, and who don’t judge, and who broker grace. There doesn’t need to be flapping excuses, or pre-emptive strikes, or image management, or superfluous apologies with these cherished friends. With them, there is safety in being “seen,” because there are indeed people who in no way mean us harm.

How can you tell who’s who?

Great question, deserving of more ponderings I’m thinking.

Friday

This week has gone so fast!

Tomorrow the rest of the fam jam arrives!!

Today is prep day for that.

Plus laundry.

And maybe today we'll go for our little picnic in the kayaks.