13 Hours of Rain

I rarely watch the news. I catch up on the world's happenings -- where often the horror is reported -- via Google News. Or the brief blurb before classic rock on our favourite radio station. But very occasionally, at the end of the day, I take in the images of national and global headlines. Yesterday I watched the masses trek across Europe, searching for a safe haven away from war-torn Syria. I witnessed little kids crying as they tried to rub away tear gas sprayed by unrelenting border police. The message? You are not welcome in this country. I choked up as a father and his son fell to the ground after being tripped up by guards. The look of desperation on people's faces was heart breaking. Our country is nearing a Federal Election in October. Many voters are curious how the next Prime Minister will address the Syrian Refugee Crisis. Here is an excerpt from The Globe and Mail : Mr. Mulcair [NDP] and Mr. Trudeau [Liberal] condemn Mr. Harper [Conservative] for lacking...

"Is anything too hard for the Lord?" I have heard this message twice over two days. First, when I read the Jesus Storybook Bible rendition of Mary being visited by the angel Gabriel, when she received the message that she was going to be the mother of the Christ child. Second, as your Daddy read the story of Abraham and Sarah, where Sarah heard the promise of her bearing a son, even though her body was 90 years old. I've been having interesting dreams lately. Some are "teacher dreams" where a class goes completely berserk and I am doing my utmost to control the kids. I chalk this up as normal, as I will be entering the classroom as a substitute teacher in the fall. My worst teaching fears are coming out in my sleep. Other dreams are random events, probably me processing elements of the day. But there is a category of dreams that are vivid. These dreams often require action, either on a creative level or a spiritual level. You kids have been introduced to T...

I sit at a table with a view of the pond. It is still and serene outside. Twilight is settling as faint streaks of pink and purple blend into darker blue. The solar lights start to twinkle amidst the lush garden foliage. The green of the trees is replaced with inky blackness. The time of day is apropos, as I pen this post. The sun is setting on a season in your Grandma and Grandpa’s lives. It is time to move from the homestead to a smaller and more convenient location in the city. This house has been sold in response to the realities of aging. It is a logical and wise decision. Yet, I am sad. More sad than I imagined. I have only known this place for a decade, 10 short years in comparison to almost a lifetime for your Daddy. I was introduced to this place when your Daddy introduced me to his parents, five older sisters, five brother-in-laws, and numerous nieces and nephews. I recall feeling apprehensive. And overwhelmed. Would this “brown” professional woman in her early ...

You become a product of where you live and whom (or what) you love. Yes, nature takes a part in your character development and value placement. But, how you are nurtured, along with the object of your affections, hones who you are. We recently concluded an action packed week with your Mausi*  and her family. The time was sweet and precious. You cousins concocted imaginative adventures. Tummies were fed mostly "Canadian" fare with dollops of ice cream now and then. And us adults played many, many board games while laughing and sharing over chai and chocolate. Your Mausi and her family live in another region of our world, where the climate and food is hot and the culture is more patriarchal than ours. And as I listened to the differences between here and there, and pondered how your Mausi and her family live a life that is quite different than mine, I couldn't help but ask myself, "What 'Western' values are worth holding on to? And what 'Eastern' v...

We are into summer now. Our days are filled with catching up with tasks we've shelved during the year, tending our yard, biking, and swimming lessons. There are some family get-togethers here and there. Plus a balanced dose of literacy, including numeracy, to keep your grade levels up. This is the last summer before both of you enter the world of school. I too will dust off my teaching skills and enter the classroom as a casual substitute teacher. I am looking forward to the change. Yet, I hold my breath during this moment in time, cherishing this stage of full-time homemaking, which will soon be past (for now, anyway). There are still days when I do pause and reflect on whether or not we could have extended this season of preschool parenting. We are a two-kid family, a decision that was not accepted flippantly, but rather with much deliberation and disquietude (especially on my part). In spite of the permanency of our decision, those uncomfortable moments do arise, when the co...

I've wanted to see the movie for quite some time. But the locally owned movie rental store (yes, we still have one) didn't carry it any longer. And we don't subscribe to Netflix. So when we were loaned "The Talented Mr. Ripley" (1999) by a friend, I jumped at the chance to view it. It was thankfully as expected. Fascinating. Intriguing. Disturbing. Some scenes required the "fast forward" button. Other times, you wished to pause the drama to discuss how you could love and hate the main character at the same time. The movie is a psychological thriller, where the main character, Tom Ripley, plots to be become a fake somebody rather than a real nobody. When the real life cast was asked to state the morale of the story, several commented on how we need to find happiness by loving ourselves instead trying to become someone that we are not. While I agree with this morale to a point, I believe there was an element of the movie that was much darker, much sini...

I've entered the play date world. Not the one where I arrange an outing for a Mom and I to visit while our kids play together. But rather the one where a kid randomly shows up at our house and asks, "Can I come over to play?" Or, "Can A. come to my house to play?" Okay, I am a bit of a control freak. I don't think I am as obsessive as the definition of the phrase implies. But I do need a measure of control over aspects of my life and the lives of you children. I don't enjoy just letting people come over "willy-nilly", especially if it happens often. And, it really bothers me when I have no idea if the parent has even allowed their kid to meander over. While I do consider myself a hospitable person who is eager to open our home to others, the introvert side of me cherishes family time without the presence of visitors. As for you visiting your friend's home? I am okay if I know the parents and if a parent is present. If I have no idea who...