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

This Old House

This Old House

The other day, I was driving with another couple to Carmen, MB, when we came over a hill and saw a dilapidated farmyard. The driver remarked that he had never seen that yard site before despite having driven down that road many times. I suggested an art installation, since I had heard about an artist creating or altering an old farmyard in western Manitoba. We decided to stop in on our way back.

We drove onto the field access road and got out to explore. Was this an authentic old farmyard that no one had simply noticed before, or was it an art installation? And at first, it was really hard to tell: the windows were clearly from an earlier era and the style of painting and room arrangement and building design were very similar to other older houses we were familiar with. But the more we explored, the more clues we noticed that indicated it was a new construction made to look old. The barn was constructed with flimsy boards that wouldn't keep out the wind, one of the rooms upstairs had no access at all – you could only look in. And then I noticed that the ceiling of the main floor was made with canvas and painted to look like saggy, water-stained, old chipboard. It was ingenious!

The driver's comment as we headed back to the car: “Now why would anyone want to do that?” Which is a great question. Why do any of us do the things we do? It's not uncommon for one person's activities or lifestyle to not make much sense to another.

No matter what a person does - whether it is build a new house to look like it is old, create or repair things, teach or study something, plan or grow things, go down this path or that – one can always find a skeptic and a supporter. It becomes important to take ownership of one's choices and to do something that brings satisfaction and fulfillment. What a person does becomes an expression of oneself, a legacy one leaves behind, a way to inscribe one's initials on the wall of time, to prove that “I was here” and it mattered.

                “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in

             the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning

             nor knowledge nor wisdom.”

                                                        Ecclesiastes 9:10

            “And whatever you do, whether in word or in deed, do it all in the name

             of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

                                                        Colossians 3:17        

The Garden Report

The Garden Report

It is almost the end of June and my kids will soon be bringing home report cards. I'm expecting that they will all get good reports and be promoted to the next grade. I am expecting report cards that indicate what each child has learned, how they have progressed since the beginning of the year, their particular strengths and perhaps a suggestion or two on something they could improve. What I'm not expecting are report cards detailing how my 10-year-old is inept with physics equations, that my 7-year-old can't do trigonometry, that my 5-year-old hasn't conjugated a single French verb all year, even though all those things are true. A report card takes into account where the child is at in his education and how far he has come, not how far he has yet to go before he is capable of every conceivable skill.

It's been awhile since I have received a report card, but I think the idea is valuable personally. To pause periodically and reflect on how I'm doing and how far I've come.

Take, for instance, my gardening.

I'm not a great gardener, despite having years of “experience” (I hate to think of how many flowers and vegetable plants I accidentally chopped down while hoeing in my mom's garden as a kid). But I have come to love my yard, and I enjoy taking care of it.

When we first moved to our place, the task of getting control of our yard was daunting, overwhelming. It was overgrown with weeds and wild apple and plum tree sapplings. The previous tenant was not much one for mowing the lawn, but he did find it a convenient place to park old vehicles and washing machines.

The first year was spent removing machines, out-buildings and trees, and trying to stay on top of the grass cutting. Subsequent years involved planting new trees in the right spots and developing flower gardens.

When I compare my yard to other people's yards who have a greener thumb than I, or have been developing their gardens for 30 years, I can get pretty discouraged. But when I look back to see what we started with and how far we've come in six years, it can be quite gratifying.

Every once in awhile, I think it's a good idea to take a look back to see if I am progressing in important areas of my life, if I am focusing on the right priorities. And when I consider other people, I need to remind myself be careful about passing judgment, because I don't know where they have started from or how far they have come.

                 “...being confident of this, that God who began a good work in

                  you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

                                                                Philippians 1:6

A Good Egg: Lesson One

A Good Egg: Lesson One

Who knew a person could learn so much from a boiled egg?

I was on for doing the children's feature in church the other week and I generally like to do object lessons for these events. So it was Saturday afternoon and I still hadn't come up with an experiment to do that would demonstrate why it is important to solve problems in peaceful ways. I skimmed through the kids' science magazines but couldn't find anything so I hauled out my book of family fun boredom busters. And there, in the rainy day section, was this experiment with a boiled egg.

Here's what the book said to do:

Get a peeled boiled egg, a fairly narrow-mouthed glass jar, a bowl of cold water and some hot tap water. The goal is to get the egg to go through the neck of the bottle without smooshing the egg. Of course, pressing it through won't work. So what to do is place the egg in the bowl of cold water. Fill the jar with hot water and let it sit for about a minute or so to let the jar heat up. Then pour the water out, quickly placing the egg, tapered side down, into the mouth of the jar. The egg will slowly get sucked into the jar, “with a satisfying thunk,” said my book.

So I diligently followed the directions, and to my ridiculous, child-like amazement, it worked exactly like it said! And I thought, this is perfect! This shows exactly why it is important to solve problems peacefully.

Here was a problem that seemed impossible to solve, or at least impossible to solve in a non-forceful way: trying to get a soft, boiled egg into a jar with a too-small mouth without breaking the egg.

When I first placed the egg on the mouth of the jar, it seemed like nothing was happening; this experiment wasn't working. But as I waited longer, I noticed the egg slowly, slowly starting to slip down. And then I felt this almost overwhelming urge to push things along – this was taking too long; maybe if I just gave it a little nudge, I could speed things up. I didn't have to press the egg very hard while it was still in the neck of the jar to realize that any interference on my part would, in fact, crumble the egg.

I managed to restrain myself from pushing the egg long enough to watch the egg slowly, agonizingly, squeeze through the neck, getting elongated in the process, until I heard that satisfying “thunk” I was promised! And there is was! In the bottom of the jar! Where there had been no possible way to get that egg into the jar, now there it was!

How like life. There are problems that arise that are difficult and seem impossible to solve without force or aggression or violence. Maybe not necessarily physical violence, but violence to another's spirit, or our own, or to our environment. And then along the way a peaceful possibility opens up. But it is so agonizingly slow, and maybe it's not really working anyway and we want to give up, or just take some extra measure into our own hands and nudge the process along. But if we are patient enough to allow peace to do its work, we are granted a solution. Yes, with peace, it often takes longer to see the resolution to a problem, and it requires more persistence and more restraint, but the results are more satisfying, more long-lasting, even better than we could have imagined.

                         “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

                               neither are your ways my ways”, declares the Lord.

                         “As the heavens are higher than the earth

                               so are my ways higher than your ways

                          and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

                                                           Isaiah 55:8-9

                        *                     *                   *                      *

The corresponding Bible story for this feature was Gen 26:11-33. If you want to know the science behind the egg experiment, the hot air inside the jar is less dense (and thus at a lower pressure) than the cooler air outside. The difference creates a suction that pulls the squishy egg through the bottle neck. (p. 196, FamilyFun Boredom Busters).  

Purple Tights

I had an interesting experience with my daughter the other day. At five years old, she can sometimes tend toward the melodramatic in times of “crisis”. I was putting laundry away in her dresser while she was changing her clothes. She couldn't find her purple tights that she always wore with this skirt among all the stuffies and clothes and little-girl detritus scattered about on the bedroom floor and she quickly deteriorated from “looking” to frustration.

      “What will I do?” she wailed loudly, meaning, I suppose, how could she possibly conceive of wearing the skirt without the tights.

      “That's a good question,” I said. “Why don't you answer it?”

      “But Mommy,” she roared, adding some foot stamping for emphasis and dramatic effect, “I don't know where they are!”

      “I know,” I said. “But you had a good question.  Do you remember what it was?”

      The foot stamping and roaring calmed down as she pondered this. Finally, she answered, “No.”

      I reminded her what her question was and asked if she could answer her own question. It was quiet in the room for awhile and then in a subdued and polite voice she said, “Mommy, could you help me find them please?” Which of course I did.

Along the way, various people have shared some of their personal stories with me. I always feel honored when this happens and what strikes me is how often it is the “negative” stories, the challenges and difficulties, the times of crisis, that have most shaped these people, developed their character, made them into the gracious people they are. It is encounters with hard things that give people that beautiful authenticity, wisdom and empathy that can be achieved in no other way.

And yet, after millenia of evidence that difficult experiences make us into better people, we still resist them. We certainly don't seem inclined to invite these things into our lives. As a race, we still tend to prefer comfort to character. Is there no way to have comfort and character?

Perhaps, like my daughter, if I can learn to ask the right question in a crisis and am patient and still long enough to hear an answer, I can achieve character and those lovely purple tights I need to find RIGHT NOW! Or if not exactly those particular tights, maybe something better or more valuable.

              “Our soul waits for the Lord;

                    He is our help and shield.”

               Psalm 33:20