A New Thing: August 2012

Tuesday 28 August 2012

Tradition!

For my kids, if we have done something once and it went well and there is an opportunity to do it again, then we must – it's tradition! They come by this trait honestly, this strict observance of tradition. They are not unlike their mother in this regard.

And so, in keeping with tradition, our family went to the Corn and Apple Festival in Morden on the last Sunday of August. We have done this for six or seven years. We'd be hard pressed to say why exactly we do this, except for the fact that we have done this before. Perhaps it's because it closely approximates the county fair my husband and I experienced in the States. Perhaps we started as a way to do something outside our small community an hour west of Morden all those many years ago. And by now, perhaps it's simply because we've done this for the past number of years that we keep going back.

Here's what our family has to do in order to follow tradition:

We must stand in the remarkably fast moving queue for free apple juice and corn-on-the-cob.

We absolutely need to eat corn dogs (the first corn dog I ever ate was at the county fair in Whitesburg, KY and so corn dogs always make me think of that place).

We must all ride the Ferris wheel together, despite the fact that it uses up 25 tickets of our limited stash.

The boys must ride the Tilt-a-Whirl and our daughter must go fishing in a pond of plastic fish opening and closing their mouths in order to win a prize of minimal value.

We must look at all the vendor booths while my husband nurses his traditional headache, which is traditionally exacerbated by the heat and noise and crowdedness of said vendor booths.

We must have ice cream at Dairy Queen before heading out to Colert Beach where the kids swim and my husband recovers from his malaise. If we have done all these things, we have had a successful day. Which we did.

Not everyone loves tradition as much as I do, even in my own family. I would agree that it is dangerous to be ruled solely by tradition, a distressing tendency of people who like predictability. I would, however, assert that tradition keeps alive memories and solidifies connections, particularly of family. Tradition, like ritual, transforms the ordinary into the sacred. So while we may not go the the Morden Corn and Apple Festival every summer from now till the end of our days, I'm glad we've had this little family tradition to tie us together for now.

We already bucked tradition this year by going looking for supper before the food booths were closing down for the evening. If all else fails, tradition provides something to deviate from now and then.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good;

blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him.”

Psalm 34:8

Tuesday 21 August 2012

Pedal Boats

Ah, the perennial summertime siren's call of pedal boats.

They look so cheery and inviting sitting there, lined up so colorfully at the dock, or floating placidly in the middle of the lake powered by someone else's legs.

In any case, I found myself pedaling a boat with my oldest son and was quickly reminded of how it feels to be going nowhere fast with much effort. Eventually we got going and my son took charge of the steering stick.

“This is great!” he exclaimed.

“What's great?” I asked. “Being in control of your own boat?” That was it exactly.

A few minutes later, the exclamation was more along the lines of, “Hey, this thing isn't steering!” Turns out you actually need to be pedaling for the steering to work. And that both over-steering and under-steering take you to places you don't really want to go. And then after making slow, hard progress across the lake, it was more like, “This is hard work.” Maybe even the suggestion that the results weren't quite worth the effort.

But we kept on, visiting shores we couldn't on foot and meeting up with other family members in matching pedal boats. And then we discovered that if we put our feet up and took our hands off the steering stick, we indeed would go nowhere fast and that was exactly what we wanted. It was lovely to sit and float in the middle of the lake, a slight breeze moving us languidly towards the shore.

What struck me was that each of those exclamations was true – at the time. It is great to be in charge of one's own boat; it is hard work; the boat won't steer if there's no pedaling; working hard causes the boat to go in endless circles – or to a shore one wants to explore; sometimes it is nice to not go anywhere in particular. And it made me wonder if the same could be said of life in general. That some things are true at a particular time, but then aren't true at a later time. That maybe at one point in a person's life one dearly wants to be going somewhere and then at a different point doesn't want to go there at all, or even move. And does changing one's mind or priorities necessarily constitute failure? Or is it just the inevitable change that forms a person's life? And what if a person only knows where she doesn't want to go, but not where she does? What then? It's almost like a pedal boat going in circles.

After 15 minutes, which seemed more like an hour, we were ready to be done pedal boating. We got to shore, switched boat-mates, and headed out on canoes, which is different kind of work and satisfaction altogether.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to

prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11

Thursday 9 August 2012

Birds of a Feather

This week is nestled snugly between two family gatherings – mine last weekend, and my husband's this weekend coming up. Two fairly different affairs, given the nature of the locations and the natures of our families-of-origin and I wouldn't miss either of them for the world. It has me thinking a lot about family relationships, differences and similarities.

My Dad had collected several nests he found to show his grandchildren. It was interesting to see how different birds construct their nests – different materials, located in different places, the size varying according to the size of the bird or the number of the eggs expected to be laid – and how one can tell what kind of bird had built the nest based on those characteristics because that's how that species always builds their nests, generation after generation.

It got me thinking about the “nest” I grew up in, and the “nest” I have built for my own little brood, and the ones that my siblings have built. My siblings and I all grew up in the same place, raised in generally the same way and yet when one looks at how we have all created our own homes and ways of life, one might almost think we are different species building our unique nests. There are, to a greater or lesser degree, variations in our lifestyle choices, value systems, how we make and spend money. These things can be intriguing and great fodder for discussion, or they can be confusing or worrisome; they can make one question the other person's choices, or question one's own.

This verse in Psalms made me think that when it comes right down to it, it is less important how we build our nests, or even what kind of species we are, than where we build them. So long as we construct our nests near the altar of the Almighty and sing our hearts out in praise to the Lord, what we've made our nests with, whether that be sticks and leaves, or mud, or string and animal hair, becomes not quite so critical.

“Even the sparrow has found a home,

and the swallow a nest for herself,

where she may have her young -

a place near your altar,

O Lord Almighty, my King and my God.

Blessed are those who dwell in your house;

they are ever praising you.”

Psalm 84:3-4

Thursday 2 August 2012

Grand Plans

Before school let out in June, I had grand plans for the kids. There were going to be chore charts and art lessons, printing practices and educational excursions. And then summer descended upon us and the kids were home. And somehow all my great ambitions were a little harder to execute than to plan.

The kids have done some chores, but without a chart. We did one art project after going on one educational excursion to an art gallery and there was one printing practice session, and does it count that we went to the library a couple of times? But by and large, summer has mostly happened to us and a fair amount of TV has been watched and computer games played.

However, one plan has stuck. I wanted the kids - and me - to memorize one Bible verse a week and write in a gratitude journal everyday. So far we have four verses memorized and we're working on the fifth. When I haul out the journals at lunchtime, the kids never complain about listing things they are thankful for. I'm glad about this. I am glad that the most important plan is working out. Chores there will be

ad infinitum, art and printing happen everyday anyway as they draw their pictures and label them, and any experience can be educational. Absorbing Scripture and cultivating gratitude takes a bit more effort, but the returns are more long lasting. It helps put into perspective the lack of fruition of my educational and organizational plans.