Friday afternoon, leaving work.  Gorgeous sunny September afternoon. The leaves haven’t yet started to fall.  But school is back in session and I started back this year too.  Assisting in the cafe.  It’s been 15 years since my youngest graduated from these hallowed halls and 26 years since the school opened its doors that very first day.  We were one of the pioneer families. Walking through the school yard to my car evoked so many memories.  I was feeling all the feels this afternoon.  My daughter was in Grade 2 and my son was in grade 5 the year the school opened its doors.     We worked with the teachers and administrators most of August trying to get the newly purchased school ready for fall startup. I remember the first family picnic we had out on the school yard lawn. It was an exciting time.  We brought homemade apple pies – I think just to share with others and one of the school’s new administrators decided to auction them off for $125.00 a pie.  Parents were hyped and wanted to help this new school out.

The structure of the school has changed so much since our family was a part of this school.  I say ‘ our family’ because it was very much a family affair back then.  The trees are so much taller- They actually have trees. The whole area, so much more developed.  But as I was walking past the metal railings at the elementary door, the very same ones that were the backdrop of many first day of school pictures, all the sweet memories of my kids’ school years flooded over me and left me breathless.  Where did those years go?   So full of hopes and dreams.  So full of precious moments and memories.

As I serve up hot lunch to the kids these days, it just takes me back.  I usually made lunches for my kids.  I was one of those weirdos that enjoyed making lunches for my kids.  But I gave them money to buy lunch on Fridays or whichever day they were serving their favorite foods.  I was always available to drop them off at school in the morning and pick them up in the afternoon.  Don’t tell anyone, but I usually had a snack in the van because I knew they’d be hungry and being fed made them chatty and they’d tell me about their day.   I made cookies and brought cheese sticks and juice boxes.  Any day that was early dismissal or the last day before a break,  we always went out for lunch and/ or to a movie.  I never had these moments when I was growing up.  We had 7 kids in our family and we walked to school and back everyday and we made our own boring lunches.  Back in my day Spam was lunch meat not unwanted email.

I think back to all the times I decorated that gym for graduations and fundraisers.  All the times we attended concerts in that gym. I remember Journey to Bethlehem, where the kids and teachers turned the gym into Bethlehem for a walking tour with all the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of that first Christmas. Such a worthwhile learning experience.  I remember decorating the teachers lounge that first year, painting trees and all kinds of fun things on the walls.  I loved helping out in the kids’ classrooms and was very excited when the teachers let me decorate their bulletin boards.  I signed up for every field trip. Went as a chaperone to fall sleepover camp. I taught Lexie’s grade 3 class how to make a quilt.  I sewed costumes for plays – Little Women to be specific. My son had a role in the Dr. Suess musical.  He was amazing, even if I do say so myself.  Both kids ventured out on Missions trips.  Lexie to South Africa and Andrew to Trinidad.  Many sleepless nights til they arrived safely home.  And the science projects.  I loved to help the kids with their homework – I loved school.  Except Math.  I was always excited to see what mark I…. I mean, they…… got when their assignments came back.

In our days, the teachers gave out benchmarks.  The slogan was to be a lifelong learner.  I already was one. Oh right, I was not a student.  However, I did graduate from Grade 9 three times.  I had to drop out after Andrew and Lexie’s Grade 9 because I didn’t understand the math.  They were on their own then .  Another belief  that was drilled into these kids was that the student would eventually become the teacher.  I can honestly say, both of my kids flew right past me academically.  And now they are teaching me things I don’t know.  I hate that.  Like how to use my computer and phone.  Lexie, teaching me how to decorate cookies. Andrew,  full of all the trivial information we need at a moment’s notice and he always has it.

I remember both graduations from Grade 12 vividly.  Such momentous and bittersweet moments.  So proud they were graduating and so sad that part of their life was over.  I had so much fun.  I don’t know if I was supposed to, but I did.  I loved those school years. When the kids needed me and depended on me.  They came to me with all their problems and I was actually able to solve most of them. Life was so much easier back then.  Safer.  More predictable. Cohesive.  All for one and one for all.  We may not have had it all together but together we had it all.  And this school was the center of SO many of our family memories, how can I not look back wistfully and wish I was ‘there’ again?  Well I am there again, but you know what I mean.  Those really were the ‘good old days’.

The road to you know where is paved with good intentions. As I go back and read some of my former posts, it grieves me to realize I never accomplished many of my boastings. I guess that’s why it’s better not to boast. I thot sharing dreams and goals would make me accountable. I read somewhere that for some people just the writing down of their plans makes them feel like they already did them when in fact they have not. Surely I have not fallen for that ruse???

However, the fact that I have documented these things stirs up a reminder that I still have unfinished business to attend to. Still have weight to lose. Still have shape to get into. Still have a book to write. Still have a home business to define and refine. Food to cook. Recipes to try. Clothes to be remodeled and designed. Painting skills to be honed. Book club to start. Dinner club to start.

Ah, but life gets in the way and distracts us and drags us off the intended path and we have to deal with it. The life I mean. And it’s not not important. There are urgent and important daily things we have to contend with all the time and sometimes our hopes and dreams get derailed.

But the secret is not to give up on these things. These dreams and plans and hopes. Very often that’s what keeps us going thru trials and hardships. The hope of what could be.

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite movies is this: ‘I lead a small life, valuable but small. Do I do it because I like it it because I haven’t been brave?’

I find I’m asking myself that a lot lately. This life I live. Do I do it this way because it makes me happy and content or am I missing out on life’s best because I’m not brave. I want to be brave. Take risks. Go for it.

A lot of what I do and how I live my life IS intentional and I enjoy it and feel a sense of accomplishment but there are those nagging little foxes that threaten and lie. So I set out with the earnestness of my intentions but then I find my fear casting its huge shadow on the wall in front of me and I back down. I’ve let the setbacks of the world and life paint me into a corner. And I don’t like what I see.

But I’ll keep marching forward and even if my progress is slow. It’s better than no progress at all. Also whose definition of slow progress am I using? Maybe my Heavenly Father wants me to slow down so I can see if I’m actually on the correct path. If I go slow it’s not so hard to redirect and correct. And so I plod on with heavy and slow steps waiting for God to shine the light on the next one.

I’m not looking for answers and solutions from others..… I’m just putting this out there in case someone is on the same path, asking the same questions. The fact is sometimes life is light and easy and we get it but often it’s like being in quicksand and we can’t escape what’s unpleasant and difficult but much needed and we don’t get it.

Keep going… that’s the best wisdom I have.

It just occurred to me that I never ever wrote about my trip to pretty little London this past spring. How could I pass up such a perfect opportunity to tell everyone that this trip made my year.  Maybe my last 4 years, to be honest.  We had been talking about me going to London long before Lexie ever left (to live in London) in April of 22.  But it just wasn’t working out.  Finally in a divine swoop, God made it possible for me to go.  All excuses and obstacles totally off the table.  I booked my ticket and began packing my carry on.  I mean who can afford the luxury of checking on a bag these days?  Plus, if I was short on clothes I could always wear Lexie’s and I did.

From the moment I landed at Heathrow, or I should say the moment Lexie found me at Heathrow, that girl kept impressing me with her joie de vivre. I mean what’s not to enjoy?  I know we are in Britain not France, but still.  This girl set her sights on London and made it happen and was living the dream. And she shared that dream with me for two weeks.  The  main intent of my going to London was to spend time with Lexie and live her life with her.  I told her I didn’t need to go to all the usual tourist traps and sights (We had been there together before), I just wanted to spend time with her in ‘her’ London.  And truly she does have a London that’s all her own.  Because it’s her unique way of living and enjoying London that is different from anyone else.

She took two weeks off work to be with me so she figured we should probably do more than just sit around her lovely flat with the claw foot tub and the quaint larder and secret garden.  As luck would have it, I arrived the week of the King’s Coronation,  so the city was awash with bunting and lunch specials and block parties and Coronation sales. The whole shebang. Let me say, right at the outset, what a classy place London is.  Britain is! Frankly, it makes Canada look brash and rude and unrefined.  But I digress….

We scoped out the Coronation parade pathway the day before the Coronation but decided not to go anywhere near the mobs the day of.  So we joyfully watched the whole thing on the telly. It was pouring rain anyway, and we just stayed in and ate breakfast and watched the coronation in our PJ’s.  When I thought of all the royal fans that had lined the mall with their tents in the days leading up to the event, I was quite happy to be warm and dry.

Some of my favorite memories are those of walking through the Hampstead Heath which is basically in her backyard.  It’s a huge park on par with Central Park in NYC.  It’s lush and green and boasts bathing ponds for both men and women (separately).  On the far end from Lexie’s location is a gorgeous park of flowers called the Pergola.  We had intended to tour Kew Gardens but the day we arrived there was cold and rainy and again, we weren’t too keen on seeing it that way, so we visited the Pergola on a sunny day.  A suitable compromise. I also loved going to the M&S Food Halls.  Such lovely food, displayed and prepared.  We walked Nottinghill one day, and Kensington. Went to Harrods and to Peggy Porschen for tea and a cupcake.  Sauntered past oodles of gorgeous colored homes with just as colorful doors and lush greenery.  Went to the Portobello Market.  The Columbia Road flower market was a feast for the eyes and nostrils on an overcast Sunday morning.  Followed by a Coronation service at St. Pauls in the afternoon. Going to a movie in London is a much different experience than here in Canada.  It was much more novel.  Everything is better in London, right?  Strolled through Liberty of London on a separate day, visiting all four floors made of solid wood recycled from two huge ships.  Fortnum and Mason was a culinary treat for sure. Everything presented in British perfection.  We saw a theatre performance of the Lion King. You can’t go to London and not go to a show.  We’d seen it before but not in London.  And I was just SO impressed with the animals the first time I saw it, I thought it had to be better in London.  I was not wrong.

One of our early days we made a trip to Brighton – on the ocean.  It was the first stop on our way to Lansing, which is where Lexie lived with her dear friend, Heather, for her first four months in the UK.  A pretty little beach town with all those colorful beach houses lining the shores.  I’ve always wanted one of those but what would I do with it living inland in Calgary where it snows 6 months out of the year?

Probably my favorite memory will forever be of the thoughtful and quaint trip Lexie booked us to the Cotswold’s and Oxford.  She rented a car and booked an AirB&B and off we went.  It was as if she was the mother and I was the daughter (I know that will happen one day but I didn’t think it would be this soon).  She expertly drove on the wrong side of the road and took me to two lovely little villages the first day.  We picked up dinner at a M&S Food Hall on the way and retreated into our cozy little cottage for the night.  Next morning we drove off and made an unplanned stop at another village in the Cotswold’s.  It was too cute to pass by.  On the way back to London we stopped at Oxford.  Oh Oxford.  The feeling of being somewhere important and historical I will never forget.  It was beautiful and I felt my IQ go up just walking on those hallowed cobblestone  streets. The pomp and circumstance of it all.

Just being with Lexie made everything amazing, even if it was pouring and cold, which it was half the time. Watching movies in bed with her laptop propped up on her window sill.  Did I mention the church bells that chimed on a regular basis?  We could hear them through her window.  So peaceful to wake up to. I loved the double decker bus rides from her place to downtown.  Normally, she would have taken the underground and minded the gap, but she let me ride the buses so I could get a wonderful view of ….everything.  The architecture, the vegetation, watching the people and the outdoor markets everywhere.  Gasping at the way people weaved their bikes in and out of traffic lanes with buses weaving every which way as well.  She lives in an absolutely gorgeous upscale area (thank you Lord), with a wonderful roommate and a great flat with all the amenities (minus a microwave and a dryer).  They dry their jeans on the heated towel rack in the loo. We walked over to their little neighborhood bakery for breakfast a few mornings and picked up food at the local grocers on our way home.  AND Lexie made me some amazing meals while I was there.  I’d been waiting all my life to be at one of my kids’ places for dinner and here I was. On my last evening we dined on the roof of Lexie’s building.

I wanted to stay forever.  But I knew I would just be cramping Lexie’s style.  She has a life to live and I had better let her get to it.  But I was so blessed and am so grateful to get to share those two weeks with her.  Two weeks that I will never forget.  I’m not crying.  You’re crying.

At the outset, summer was full of hope and promise. The promise of longer days and warmer temperatures and greener growth. The hope of a slower pace, of coveted heat, of luscious flowers and  relaxing vacations.
The summer months lay stretched before us like a never ending beach towel on the sand.  With a fanciful novel calling our name. As lots of flowers and watermelons took front space at the local food mart, we were ready to savour every summer moment.
Now it’s late august and many of these moments and memories are in the rear view mirror. The whole point of memories is we can live off them for months and years.  Remembering the wonderful warm weather and the bare feet in the grass or sand. The BBQs, the paddleboard voyages, the hikes in the mountains, the flying over the water in a speedboat. Listening to the neighbours lawn mower. Chasing a brilliant sunset. Listening to waves crash against the shore. Laying on a dock or trampoline in the middle of the night watching for shooting stars.  Camping. Listening to the lyrical rhythm of rain on your tent.  Campfires. Berry picking. Road trips.
As summer washes out to sea, We’re starting to sense autumn knocking on our door. People  are buying school supplies.  Sweaters fill the shop window displays. I’m thinking of putting up a few more twinkle lights in and out,  to soften the blow of cooler temps and shorter days. We’re reluctantly loosening our grip on summer.
But autumn…..it’s not so bad. In fact, it’s quite wonderful. A friend just notified me that her apple tree is ready for picking.  My head is dizzy with thoughts of pie making and salsa making and bread making. Walks at the dog park with my cozy quilted vest.  I’m starting to consider breaking out my fall decor. I’ve got a new job at a school so I’m getting caught up in the back to school mentality again. Haven’t done that since my kids graduated over 15 years ago.   I’ve been meaning to take up knitting and I think I will…. Knit myself a cozy sweater. Long and baggy and cuddly…. The kind you can never find to buy.
This season is also filled with hope and promise.  I’m looking forward to cozy nights by the fire and a pantry filled with canned harvest. Sweaters, flannels, vests and boots. Bring it on. Did I mention pumpkin spice lattes?

Just sitting here on the last Saturday night of July doing nothing.  Me in my studio and Mike in his man cave.  It’s a lovely evening to be outside. But we’re not.   It’s been an active week for sure.  We’ve done all sorts of things and could use a respite,  but for some reason it feels like we should be somewhere else.  But alas….we are at home.  Not that that’s a bad place to be.  We are blessed.  Home is great.  But you know that feeling when you just want to be somewhere else, doing something else, with your favorite people?  Like maybe on a sailboat in the BVI’s (not that I’ve ever been there) but I’ve heard tell. Or an African safari.  Or on a gondola in Venice.  Or staring up at the sparkling lights on the Eiffel Tower.  Or in London with your wee girlee (I was just there but it has wet my appetite).  How about a family meal at one of those long tables that go on forever, with twinkle lights, in Tuscany, your bare feet caressing the grass under the table, the wine is flowing as well as the food and laughter, into the wee hours of the morning.  Once again, never been, but I watch movies and read books. Or sitting out on a rooftop patio, gazing at all the white stucco huts with blue dome roofs, matching the azure water below that seems to go on forever.  Where am I?  Everything seems so clean and simple and luscious.  

From my studio window I can see the tops of the 40ft high aspens swaying in the subtle wind and see the blue, blue sky.  My studio is my haven.  My safe place.  The place where all the creativity happens and all the ideas come to birth.  Shall we say, my comfort zone.  An understatement.  But here I sit on the last Saturday night of July, dreaming of other places.  We shouldn’t spend our lives wishing we were somewhere else.  Especially when there is nothing wrong with where you are. Maybe I’m having a wee bit of FOMO this evening.   Fear of missing out.  I haven’t missed out on anything.  My life is rich and blessed.  The things I have missed out on are probably things I’m glad I missed out on.  Very often we are looking for tangible things to thank God for when in fact, I think there are probably lots of things He prevented from happening that we should be grateful for. Of course, we will never know what those things were because they didn’t happen and I, for one, am grateful. 

So I will  sit here-  in my studio –  on the last Saturday night in July and dream my dreams of glamorous places and going ons and be grateful that I even can dream.  That my reality allows me to dream.  That I don’t have perplexities that are taking all of my focus.   Well I do have some perplexities, but I am shelving those on this last Saturday evening in July, to live in this moment and dream.  Grateful that these are my frivolous dreams.  

A favorite author of mine encouraged me to think about delight today.  Delight alongside gratefulness.  Being grateful for all the things and finding delight in them too.  

Something I have delighted in as of late was one little momma robin who designed her nest  in my purple pansies. And there she laid her little clutch of Tiffany blue eggs.  We tiptoed out every morning to see if another egg was added to the first one.  She laid one egg a day just like google said she would.  Then she incubated those perfect eggs while father robin guarded his family close by.  Finally, again like clockwork, the eggs began to hatch.  Tiny little featherless bodies with great big eyes.  I cannot believe how fast those baby birds grew.  In less than two weeks they grew feathers and wings and large beaks.  We watched as mom and dad flew back and forth with all sorts of nourishment for the little fledglings. They strained their skinny little necks upwards with their large beaks wide open to receive their sustenance.  Mom and dad watched them like hawkes (well I guess like robins) until finally they were too big for their little nest and started to leave.  Now the nest is empty and the little miracles of nature are gone. We took great delight in this whole process.  It was a gift of summer.

I want to look for joy and delight in all the simple miraculous things that take place every day.  Our little pup, for instance.  I delight in his little personality and idiosyncrasies. The way he tilts his little head this way and that to try to understand what we are saying to him. The way he loves someone to scratch him with our feet. How excited he gets when you ask him if he wants to go for a car ride.   I sure hope all dogs go to heaven because what would it be like without our little furry friends?

  I delight in the garden.  Every time a new bloom opens, I get all excited.  Even if it’s just going to be one of its kind.  I especially delight in the plants that grow out of nowhere.  I didn’t plant them but there they are. Like a small bonus. Bringing joy to my morning inspection.  Even just to ponder how God came up with all these different shapes and colors just to cheer us.  Flowers have no real purpose to humans, other than for us just to enjoy them.  Their beauty and their scent.

  Think about cooking and baking.  It’s really miraculous how you can just toss flour and water in a bowl and stir it and stretch it and punch it and end up with something as delicious as homemade bread. Or tossing a variety of ingredients into a pan, then add heat and end up with a scrumptious meal.

 Or how an airplane stays up in the sky, transporting us to somewhere grand and far off that we couldn’t really get to in any other way. I delight in the ocean, the sea, any body of water really.  The power and beauty of an azure ocean.  The waves.  The moon or the sun shining down on the ripples.  The crash of the waves against the sandy shore. The wake made when we power a boat over it or the gentle waves a sailboat cuts.  The spray of the water on our skin on a hot sunny afternoon. 

Slipping my weary body into a hot, sudsy bath with epsom salts.  Candles burning nearby.  Music softly playing in the background.  A cool beverage.  I pretend I don’t have a care in the world.  I just use my sensory perception to delight in that moment. 

Twinkle lights.  I always delight when I see twinkling lights.  What is it about them?  I don’t like the harsh garishness of full on bright artificial light.  It’s just rude. But twinkling lights.  So soft and non invasive.  Just enough light to blot out total darkness and magical enough to delight the soul.  

You find a $5 bill in the pocket of a jacket you haven’t worn for long time. (I don’t know about you but that gets me pretty excited). You go looking for your favorite magazine and there is one left. The person ahead of you at Starbucks pays for your drink. You luck out and find the very best spot in the parking lot. You come home tired and someone has done the dishes for you. You find something wonderful that you forgot you had. You hair turns out. You sink into a comfy chair and read a lovely book that stirs your soul. You get through an entire project without your serger coming unthreaded. The heavenly scent of the sweet peas you just picked fills your nostrils and you inhale deeply. Snow. Rain. Christmas. Birthday cake or cupcakes. Pie. Coffee with a dear friend. I delight in all these seemingly insignificant everyday happenings.

There is SO much to delight in.  I want to find joy and delight in my mundane everydayness.  Because this is my life.  It is what it is and I want to find joy in it.  I want to be content with it and I can be if I look on so many things with pure delight.  Even just the sound of a lawn mower or kids splashing in a nearby pool or the trees swaying in the wind outside my bedroom window at night.  The aroma of a neighbours BBQ.  The smell of freshly washed workout clothes.The delight in a fresh loaf of homemade bread.  Get out the peanut butter.

Or the way God gives us little surprises and gifts when we are least expecting it.  Reminding us that He is still there and that He cares.  I’ve had so many instances when I can say, Thank you God, I know that was you. And I delight in those.