A New Thing: August 2013

So, I've decided, after all these years, to go back to high school.

And not just any high school.

My old high school.

Strange how even after all these years, my qualms about the first day are the same as they were way back when:
    What will I wear?
    Will my hair work out?
    Will anybody like me?

Will I find friends among my peers?

Will I be able to do the work?

Strange how the questions are the same even though I'll be standing on the other side of the desk this time around.

Getting to this spot has been a bit of a crazy ride, but all along the way, I have felt watched over and guided.

The last several mornings have been foggy. This morning the fog was particularly heavy. I couldn't see very far ahead of me as I went for my daily walk down the road. What I noticed, however, was that there was always a circle around me that was clear enough to see where I was going. I couldn't see down the road very far, but the path became clear as I walked along it.

That's rather how it has felt in my life this year – the road ahead is foggy and uncertain, but the next step is always made clear as I take it. And so that is what I do – I take the next step and trust in the guidance that is sufficient for the next step after that, knowing that eventually the fog will clear and give way to a brilliant day, a brilliant life.

You make known to me the path of life;

you will fill me with joy in your presence,

with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Psalm 16:11

The path of the righteous is like the morning sun,

shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

Proverbs 4:18

We just got back from a little family vacation. Nothing too extravagant. Nothing too long (everyone was so pleased to be home after 3 1/2 days!). Nothing too far.

We went camping at Bird's Hill Park for a few nights.

We discovered right away that we were going to have territory issues with the local wildlife – ground squirrels in particular. One member of the family thought they were the cutest things and gave them names and treats and looked for opportunities to touch and feed them. They didn't need much encouragement to come around for food. Another member, who has an aversion to any animal with rodential inclination, spent a certain amount of time flailing and screeching at the things. And there was yet another member who took it upon himself to rescue the family from these insidious creatures and took to throwing logs at them, jumping up from picnic table and lawn chair at every opportunity to demonstrate his prowess. And a raccoon did visit the first night and after rummaging around and eating left over chips pilfered half a pan of rice krispie squares, pan included. I found it dragged into the bush the next morning.

And then there were, of course, the things we forgot at home. Like enough air mats for everyone to sleep on, and the necessary inverter required to blow up the mattresses we did have along, and a pair of pajamas and tooth brushes (although I'm not entirely sure if those were forgotten or simply left behind...).

We only camped for two nights, but despite the balmy forecast, it started raining around 6:30 PM on the second night and continued till early morning – sufficient time for the tent to develop leaks and for everything to be soaked in the morning for packing up, which we did remarkably quickly, I may add. By that time the siren call of a hotel room was loud and sweet.

But we had a memorable time and enjoyed each others' company. The kids are old enough for family bike rides and we made it to Lower Fort Garry, a living museum of an old Hudson's Bay Co. post from the 1800's. We visited the grave sites of both my grandparents and my husband's grandparents before settling into our hotel room for the night.

The thing that struck me, both from visiting the museum and from pulling weeds from around my grandparents' graves, was how short a lifetime is. All these things that seem so pressing, perhaps that are even important, are all over so quickly and it doesn't take long and few people remember. Nobody remembers the things that Sir George Simpson was worried about or particularly minds that the post didn't work out as successfully as he had hoped. No one remembers the names of all the HBC employees who sat around smoking tobacco or aiming their muskets out of the tiny holes in the stone walls at the equally nameless Aboriginal men aiming their arrows over the fort walls. There is no record of what my grandparents were anxious about in 1953 or what difficult decision or life change they were presented with in 1967. It just is gone so quickly. It kind of puts one's own life in a bit of a different perspective.

The last night of our holiday we did spend in a hotel. It didn't rain. In fact, it was a lovely evening, warmer than it had been all day. My husband and I walked across the street to Tim Horton's to get an evening snack for the kids. It was a pleasant, satisfying evening. A golden orange crescent moon hung in the western sky.

“You know,” mused my husband, as we strolled down the sidewalk. “It was on a summer evening just like this many years ago that Barry [his old high school friend] and I were sitting on the hood of his car discussing what it would be like if we got hit by a truck on the way home and that was the end of life."

We pondered for a moment as we carried on.

"And now that's what happened to him. I wonder if he would say now what he thought he would say all those years ago.”

We walked on in silence for awhile.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He said, 'It was good while it lasted.'”

Let us make it so.