Camping Drama

All he did was stub his toe.

On an axe, mind you.

The sharp end of the axe, to be sure.

Which sliced off the top of his middle toe. Almost. It was hanging by a thread.

But still.

It rearranged our day and became the most dramatic event of our camping weekend.

My family went camping at Grand Beach this past weekend. Saturday lunch was winding down and we were trying to decide in what order to do all the desired activities when my middle son came back to the picnic table from changing into his swim trunks in the tent, barefoot, and stubbed his toe on the axe leaning against the fire pit.

Cry in pain. Grab and cover. Peak. See blood. Freak out.

I quickly grabbed a wet cloth and covered his toe. Then I peaked too. I saw blood too, and also a clean diagonal slice across the tip of his toe – including across his toenail. Fortunately, as a mom, I have been able to develop a few skills in covering up a freak-out for the benefit of my children. I wondered if he'd need stitches.

Our resident medical person, my good husband, came to take a look. He, too, figured we'd need to find a doctor. Fortunately, Grand Beach has a doctor stationed near the beach. We loaded the patient into the van. I held his toe in the wet cloth and tried to keep it from bumping around too much.

He's a great kid. He has this skill whereby he can zone out anything that is vaguely objectionable to him. This is a skill that can be slightly aggravating to a certain person when that person tells him to clean his room, say, and he is looking and nodding, but that certain person can tell it's just not registering. Or he'll start the job and then get distracted by a comic book lying on the floor. But today, that skill was highly valuable. It wasn't a minute into the ride to the doctor and he was reading a comic book, freak-out forgotten. When we discovered that the conveniently located doctor only worked an hour and a half in the morning and one hour in the evening, and was currently out, our handy resident medical person bandaged up his toe and I covered it with a sock and shoe, and he merrily went on his way, running and then swimming in the lake with his socks and shoes on.

So often that is how it goes. The same trait can be one of our greatest strengths and one of our challenges. The trick becomes honing that trait to serve us and our fellow human beings instead of being controlled by it.

           "Live as children of the light (for the fruit of the light consists in all

            goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord."

                                                                     Ephesians 5:9-10

                                                                         

By the way, we did see the doctor later in the day and he did not need stitches. The doctor bandaged his toe up and said it was better to let the flap dry up and fall off on its own. Which it has.

Helicopter Addendum

The helicopter saga is over.  Kind of feels like the end of summer camp.

Ed, the pilot, and Mark, the engineer/mechanic spent the week in Portage, arranging for parts and then fixing the helicopter.  And then they were kind enough to come by and let us know when they were ready to take off.  They let the kids sit in the seats and told interesting stories about helicopter rides.

And then they were gone.

My one son told Mark it was the most exciting thing that had happened in his life.  I think Mark felt a mixture of being tickled at the honor and pity for such small lives out here in the sticks.  But that's okay.  We all know a little more now at the end of the week than we did at the beginning, and who can complain about that?

Helicopter in the Way

I was putting the kids to bed at the end of a busy weekend when I noticed some people walking down our road. This is pretty unusual, but I assumed they were just going for a walk, like I often do. A few minutes later, my son came down the stairs asking why strangers were coming down our lane. Right away, there was a knock at the door.

At the door were a couple of young men. They apologized for bothering us but they had had trouble on the road and were wondering if we could help. I said of course. I would call my husband and see if he could help them, thinking maybe he could give their vehicle a boost or pull them out of the ditch or whatever.

“Oh,” they said, “Actually, we were thinking maybe we could just use your phone. Our helicopter is in the middle of the road and won't be going anywhere soon. We don't think anyone will be able to get by.”

“Helicopter!?!” I exclaimed. This was just so not what I was expecting.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. We were flying from Brandon to Winnipeg and we had to make an emergency landing on the road. So maybe if we could just use your phone to call a cab.”

They need the cab of a semi-trailer to pull it out of the way?!? As I went to get the phone for them, I tried to imagine who around here would have a tractor trailer to haul a helicopter somewhere.

“Did you crash it?” I asked with concern as I handed the one guy the phone, though they seemed relatively fine and unfazed.

“No, we just had to land it quickly.”

I asked them if they were just out for a ride. It turns out that they work in the diamond mine industry and were heading to Ottawa before going back to work in the Northwest Territories. They had planned to be in Ottawa by Monday, but now it would obviously take 3 or 4 more days, what with waiting for parts and all, and there the helicopter would sit in the middle of the road.

By now, my husband had come out to see what was going on and he was quickly filled in. The guys still kept mentioning this cab that they wanted to call. They were wondering where the nearest town would be where they could get a hotel for the night. We figured the closest place would be Portage.

“We could just get a taxi to take us there, then.”

Oh! The cab they needed to call was a taxi-cab! Now there's a brilliant idea! Except that it's not - out here. The nearest taxi service would be in Portage. Waiting almost an hour for a taxi to come from Portage to take them back to Portage seemed a bit ridiculous. So my husband offered to take them to a Portage hotel where they could stay the night and make their necessary arrangements, which they gratefully accepted.

It struck me how each party assumed that their own experience was what was “normal”. They neglected to mention that they had mechanical trouble with their helicopter, as though that were an inconsequential detail; I assumed they were traveling in a car or truck and needed a bigger truck to assist them. They, being city guys I think, planned to just call up a taxi to take them where they wanted to go; I, being a country girl, assumed a cab was the cab of a truck (which may not have been the most intelligent assumption, even for a country girl), and when I finally did realize what they meant knew that calling a taxi wasn't really an option. The whole experience was so out of our “ordinaries” that is was almost as if we were speaking different languages.

This time around, it just made for a funny story and an opportunity to do a kind deed for some strangers. Other times, though, these kinds of assumptions about what is “normal” or “acceptable” can create real barriers between people, opportunities to invalidate another's experience, feelings of superiority or inferiority when in reality we are simply different. It is so easy to be critical and judgmental of people who don't look like us, or act like us, or believe like us, or drive the same kind of vehicle as us (!), but we have received a higher calling from Jesus, a calling to compassion and understanding and patience. We, as humans, never know the whole story with all the details of another person, so we are called to be wary of passing judgment. I know I find myself being critical of people who I think are being judgmental or who I think are in positions of power and are using that power to the harm others. But somehow, I don't notice any convenient exceptions in Jesus' command to not judge, and so there I am, back at square one. So hard, and yet so important. Like moving the helicopter blocking the way.

                 “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way

                   you judge, you will be judged, and with the measure you use,

                  it will be measured to you.”

                                                                 Matthew 7:1-2

Wildflowers Along the Lane

I went on a mini-vacation this weekend - just me and the kids.  Proximity to clean bathrooms, free breakfast, and a guarantee of quiet neighbours were strong determinants in our choice to camp in my parents' backyard, along with the lack of camping fee.  It's beautiful there and we had a good time.

One evening, the kids and I went for a walk down the lane. The boys were riding their bikes and my daughter was strolling along, picking wildflowers. I was walking along, thinking about a person I know of who is currently walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela – The Way of Saint James – in northern Spain. The Camino is an ancient Christian pilgrimage trail dating back to the Middle Ages, beginning in St. Jean Pied de Port, France and extending 780 km to Santiago, Spain. I was experiencing the familiar pangs of travel-envy that beset me every time I hear of someone traveling to a place I want to go. I was wondering how a person would possibly begin to capture all the wonderful things they would see and experience in a new place when over every hill and around each corner, there would be something interesting and fascinating. Well, I surmised morosely, I imagine they would do it much the same way a person could capture any moment in life.

And then I thought, yes! Open your eyes to your own life, right here and now. I may not be walking along the Camino, but I am walking down a Rosehill lane. I may not have the freedom and independence – or money – to jet half-way around the world, but I do have three beautiful children who love me and are with me every day.  How am I capturing this perfect golden summer evening, this precious, fleeting moment of carefree childhood that is spread out before me? Here, right where I am, there is something beautiful and captivating over each hill and around every corner.

Such a tricky balance – aspiration and contentment. Maybe it's like how a child picks wildflowers: she doesn't waste time moaning over the flowers she hasn't yet picked. She is enthralled with the flowers gathered in her hand and is always looking for more to add to her bouquet. Perhaps the key is to receive my life with a heart full of gratitude and eyes full of love and to open myself to the golden moments right around me and the possibility of opportunity ahead of me.

                              “This is the day that the Lord has made;

                                    let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

                                                             Psalm 118:24

The Art of Being Carried

Sunday, July 1, 6:30 AM

I wake to the sound of the pitter-patter of little feet.

I am a little confused by these footsteps, though. I am used to hearing stumbling, shuffling, running, but tip-toeing is a rare sound in my house and that's what this is. I can hear the tip-toeing going from room to room, and I am surprised that it hasn't come to my door yet. The kids usually come here first. But, I think, they'll end up here eventually.

And sure enough, I hear the tip-toeing footsteps heading down the hall to my room. I rise up from my horizontal position to greet my morning guest, and there, peering in the door at me, are the big brown eyes of Sasha, the dog. Our very assuredly outdoor dog. Evidently our door had not latched properly and Sasha, doing her doggy duty, had decided to explore.

“What are you doing in here?” I blurt. Sasha declines to answer, but suddenly realizes she is somewhere she is not supposed to be. She dutifully heads to the top of the stairs she had just climbed to investigate. However, as it is for many creatures, stairs or trees or ladders are easier to go up than come down. Sasha wants to go down, she knows she is supposed to go down, but she just cannot bring herself to do it. I go and get the bag of bacon flavored doggy treats to see if I can lure her down. She hesitantly comes a few steps down to get the treat but invariably backs up to the safety of the hallway. We try this a number of times with similar results.

Well, what to do? This dog cannot stay upstairs forever, or even, frankly, for the morning. Finally, my husband gathers the necessary resolve and picks Sasha up. It is no small feat to carry a dog down the stairs, particularly a fearful one, particularly a half-grown pup as large as Sasha, a lab/rottweiler cross. My guess is this is an experience Sasha will not be in a hurry to repeat, and she is remarkably willing to go outside where she belongs!

This morning, a particular chapter came to an end in the life of our family. It is something that is important to each member of our family. There were tears, there was sadness, there was the realization that we will no longer be able to retreat to that place of familiarity and safety, where we know and are known. There is that sense that, like Sasha, we can no longer stay in that particular space and it is a fearful thing to make that metaphorical trip down the stairs to the next place we need to be. My hope and prayer is that God will lure us to that place, wherever that may be, with treats of encouragement and possibility, and that if necessary, will pick us up and carry us there.

                                He tends his flock like a shepherd:

                                     He gathers the lambs in his arms

                                and carries them close to his heart;

                                     he gently leads those that have young.

                                                              Isaiah 40:11