Horsing Around

After finally finishing our pet fence, a couple of weeks ago, we were able to do the fun part - put something in the fence!  After a little deliberation, we decided on miniature horses. There is a horse hobby farmer, a few miles from our house, who was willing to sell one, so we surprised the kids with the announcement one Saturday afternoon.  We piled into a vehicle, and drove to the farm to let the kids pick one out.  But, when we got there, we were distracted by the greatest thing....a brand spankin' new baby foal.  This baby was so new, its legs were still in the sac attached to the placenta.

This sweet little girl went from being born, to doing the splits for us, to tentatively standing up in under 15 minutes.

Anyway, back to business!

This is who the kids picked......everyone, meet Caramel Candy.  Caramel, meet blogland!  Caramel is two years old. 

And, because horses don't like to be lonely, we "borrowed" another horse from the farmer for the summer to keep Caramel company.  Meet Honeybunch, Caramel's sleepover buddy.

Note:  We did not name these horses.  They were named when we got them.  It took a while for Jeff and I to say the names without asking for a glass of milk right after, but we're doing better now.

Let the fun begin!

In this moment, I am.....

exhaling - after a busy enough weekend. 

recovering still - from the sleepover from Friday to Saturday at the Manitoba Museum with Makenna and 50 grade five students. This morning, she said to me "mom, I don't think it's a good idea that they let us stay up so late at the museum".  "Why's that?" I ask.  "Because it takes too long for me to recover".  Wait till you're as old as mom, sweetheart.  It gets worse.

hoping - Makenna makes it through her day.  She was pretty tired this morning.  I sent her to school with a cheerful pep talk, an advil and two cough candies.  Not my usual style, but it's what worked today (usually I yell and give her an injection.  I'm kidding, all you peeps with CFS on speed dial).

loving - the interaction that I have with so many people when I volunteer at the Perk, our church's coffee shop.  It's so much fun being friendly, isn't it?!  I find it energizing.

enjoying - no, obsessing over, the leftover orzo and spinach salad that friends made for us yesterday, which I finished at breakfast this morning, thank you very much. 

reflecting - on the great time we had at said friends house yesterday.  Good food, good conversation, great people, new connections.  Love it.

wondering - if we stayed too long - is 8 hours too long to stay at someone's house if it's your first time there?  Yeah, my mom thought so too.

so excited - that we were invited, by one of the owners of Bumpers, to attend an employee training evening a couple days before opening, during which we order anything off the menu and get it at half price!  The kids have been counting down the days till that place opens, and it was really exciting for them to learn that 5 days became 3 overnight!

planning - to have a home-alone, housewife-y day today.  Go for a walk, have devotions, make food, do laundry, clean up, laundry, make food, clean up, clean up, clean up.  We'll see what actually happens

looking forward to - cheering Mason on from the sidelines during baseball this year.  It's his first year playing and tonight is his first practice. So sweet.  He may think it's grown up and manly, but you and I both know it's adorable. ;)

still not sure - which glove he's going to use tonight.  In all the excitement, we forgot to buy him a glove, so the poor guy will have to borrow either mine or Jeff's tonight.  I know, who signs their kid up for baseball, and doesn't get him a glove, right?  I hang my head in shame.

anticipating - a great evening with fantastic girlfriends on Wednesday.  Never a letdown.

loving - Where would we be, by Matt Redman.  Whenever I hear the song, I am taken back to my fantastic experience in the church easter choir this year.  All five services. I was standing in front of the tenors, who, in my humble opinion, get to sing the best part of any harmony. I hear this song, and in my head, I hear the guys behind me belting it out. They sounded. so. good. At least from 12 inches away.

remembering - how Mason brought Jeff and I each a toasted egg sandwich in bed yesterday morning at 7:25.  Mayo on Jeff's, no mayo on mine "cuz I don't think you like mayo on your toasted egg sandwiches, right mom?"  He's so sweet and thoughtful.  And he soon may have a hole worn through his cheek from all the kisses I give him.

wishing you - a great day.  I challenge you to see the beauty and goodness around you today.  If you look for it, you'll find it.  It even works for you, my masculine, tough-as-nails readers.

Makenna turns Eleven!

Yesterday was Makenna's birthday.  I am the very proud mama of a gorgeous 11-year old girl.

She planned a birthday party for herself, which took place on Monday.  She invited four friends - three from school, one from church. Oh, and she insisted that Mason and Taelyn be there, which tickled me to no end. The menu:  chicken nuggets and curly fries (health was not really a consideration, I can see).  And rainbow-stuck-in-the-clouds cupcakes that everyone would make themselves.  And mom would hide goodie bags in really hard places outside.  Other than that, she wanted to have free time to play outside. 

That was her plan, and that's exactly what happened.  The weather turned out to be great for playing outside, so they played Man Hunt for much of the time (kind of like Hide and Seek, but with more screaming and running involved.  Then again, any time a bunch of girls get together, there's a lot of screaming).


And she huffed and she puffed and she BLEW the candles out

 Yesterday, on her "real" birthday, we had a low-key family celebration, as per her plan.  She picked the meal again - black bean and brown rice enchillada casserole (healthier this time!!!) and coleslaw and icecream (to balance out the health?).  We stuck her candles in the icecream and sang happy birthday again.  We played Dutch Blitz, checked out our new pets (more details in another post), tickled her till she was gasping, and stuck her to bed. She fell asleep in under 15 minutes. Turns out 11-year-olds  need sleep, too.

She has one more birthday plan up her sleeve.  It involves grandmas and grandpas and papas and a soon-to-open icecream shop called Bumpers.

March Highlights

• March was a smorgasborg of weather.  Our garage floor reflected this well.  There were winter boots, rubber boots, runner, sandals, and crocs strewn everywhere....and they were all worn within one week of eachother!!
• We bought the kids a motorbike.  A Honda XR-80, to be specific. While Makenna thought it was great, Mason had a complete panic attack when he saw it on the back of the truck.  I think he smiled in his sleep the whole night.  We've known for a long time that he'd loooooove a dirtbike, but he hasn't harassed us about it at all.  The night we brought the bike home, Jeff was tucking him in, and Mason said "not begging really works, Dad.  I get almost everything I want by not begging."  Ahem.
• Makenna went to school wearing sandals, shorts and a toque.  That struck me as funny.
• Jeff and the neighbourhood pyromaniac set fire to our pet pasture.  We were surprised it burned as quickly as it did.  The fire burned in a location on our yard that is sometimes wet until June.  This fire was lit one week after the snow began to melt.  See the snow in the first picture of this post?  That photo was taken exactly one week before the fire pics.  It was the fasted spring melt of my life, that's for sure. 
• I completed my first entire year as a full-time Discovery Time teacher at Green Valley School.  What a fascinating group of kids.
• I reached the half-way point to my goal of recording 1000 "gifts" or small blessings in my life (inspired by the book "One Thousand Gifts", by Ann Voskamp).  Here's a small snippet from March as I cross the halfway mark....

#500  Sitting on the deck with Jeff, Gary and Earlene last night - love the spontaneity and casual atmosphere
#501 Walking barefoot on a snowhill
#502  Friends who came over for lunch "spur of the moment"
#503  Sitting in silence, alone, on a chair on the deck
#504  Bear sleeping in a little patch of sunshine on the landing
#505  My window is open!!!  Sweet spring breeze.
#506  Taelyn and Tyler swinging on the tire swing together....an unexpected, sudden friendship
#507  A brother speaking so kindly to my little girl
#508  The bands of coral and pink across the sky at sunset
#509  Another evening of fantastic conversation with dearly loved girlfriends
#510  A MIL who found the perfect pair of ski pants for Mason at MCC
#511  An impromptu walk in Steinbach with a treasured friend
#512  The alpine currants are budding
#513  Birds chirping!  Meadowlarks singing!  Welcome welcome!!
#514  The freedom that comes from forgiveness
#515  Seeing his eyes light up when he saw me
#516  Yellow rubber boots

Happy Spring!

How many Rempels does it take to build a fence?

Well, the answer is 4, plus one person to photograph the process and a city-dog-in-the-country acting as supervisor. 



Who says you can't wear PJ's on the job?  Not me, obviously!





Safety shoes?



In our backyard, we have a chicken coop that attaches to a smaller fenced-in area that we have affectionately named the pet pasture (yes, we're very creative).  The thing is, the fenced-in area has never been entirely fenced in, and it never contained any pets (turns out the name was creative, after all!).  Last weekend, in a spurt of energy, Jeff and the kids determined to work on the fence (ok, Jeff determined, and the kids worked). The posts had been pounded earlier (as in 2010 or 2011 - hey, Rome wasn't built in a day!!). Before long, with lots of teamwork, the corners of the fence were solid, and all that was left to do was attach the page wire to the posts.  Page wire, as you may suspect, ensures the fence is mostly predator-proof.  Earlier this week, Jeff finished off the wire.  We're installing a walk-in gate to make the pet pasture really user-friendly.  We want to encourage friends and family to visit whoever is inside the pasture, at their leisure  This fence has been on our "to-do" list for a long time, so it's great to see it actually materialize.  Next on our list.....put a pet in the pet pasture.

"She is my Child"

Today, I came across a journal entry that I wrote in May of 2010.  As I read it, I was surprised that only two short years ago, some of the things I wrote about were new concepts to me. I'm so excited about the journey God is leading me into, and looking back, I realize I'm actually in a different place than I used to be.  I'm curious to know where I'll be in two years from now! Am I sure of everything I know?  No.  Do I sometimes feel my way in the dark?  Absolutely.  Do I doubt what I think I know?  Without a doubt (pun intended). 

Over the past couple of years, I've discovered that there is usually a question behind my questions.  God rarely answers my surface question.  But what He does answer touches my core, shows His intimate knowledge of me, shows Himself to be exceedingly gentle and ultimately GOOD.  His answer is always waaaay better than the question I'm asking.

I must also include a caveat about my daughter, Makenna. She is (and was) a beautiful, happy, respectful, content child. The "attitude" that I'm referring to is within the "normal" ranges of a girl her age.  She has also given me permission to write about this.

I humbly submit my journal entry from that spring evening in 2010 when a tired, frustrated mom brought a question to the God of the universe, and He gave ear to her voice.

I curl up in bed beside my sleeping 9-year-old, ideas from the book I've just closed churning in my head.  I am intrigued by the concept of practically including God in the mundane, day-to-day choices in my life.  My faith is increasing.  Unbelief is receding.  I believe God has answers for me and is willing to guide me.  So I lay in my daughter's bed, disturbed by a question I've asked since she was a toddler.  What are we going to do about her attitude?  The angry outbursts?  Nothing we're doing seems to be working long-term. 

So, I take a tentative step, I present a question... "God, what would you like to say to me about Makenna?".  Pause.  I sense a response. "She is my child". I repeat it out loud.  "She is your child." I feel a bit silly, like I'm in Communication 101.  Ask a question.  Listen.  Repeat back what you heard.  I'm "hearing" the basics, simple facts I've known my whole life.  I mean, many people I know would not consider it newsbreaking to discover that their child was God's. I resist the intrinsic impulse to dismiss the thought as my own.  To mock it.  Discredit it.  I repeat it silently, all the while staring at my sleeping treasure, blonde ringlets trailing down the side of her warm cheek.  "She is your child".  As I sit with the thought for a short while, however, I become overwhelmed by the implications of that statement.  In this moment, I realize much of my parenting in this area is fear-based - I want to control....my internal thoughts sound something like this..."what will we do to get rid of her attitude? We have to do it soon.  She'll be a teenager soon.  It'll just get worse.  We won't have a good relationship with her.  She'll rebel.  Is her heart even soft towards God, or is she mechanically and dutifully parroting the answers and worldview we are teaching her?"  Wow, pretty big stuff.  To a mom.  Jeepers. Where is all this coming from?

How on earth did posing one simple question and hearing one seemingly over-simplified answer cause so much fear and inadequacy to surface inside me? 

This is what I am learning.  That God brings up those negative feelings and long-stored memories inside me for a purpose...to heal me.  To dispel fear. To replace lies with truth.  To free me.

In that moment, I realize that God knows the question that's behind what I'm asking.  I'm asking for a method, something that I can do to get my kid under control.  Control the behaviour.  I'm looking for a solution, but I'm asking for a bandaid. But He wastes no time.  He's not into beating around the bush.

His comfort washes over me as the truth of "she is my child" settles inside me.  It's difficult to describe, but knowing that it's not all up to me relieves tremendous pressure.  It goes against my "if I won't do it, who will" attitude.   I can exhale.  I can rest.  "Yes God, you love her more than I do. I'm not alone in this.  She belongs to you.  I entrust her to you."  Receiving that message takes the pressure off parenting and "getting it right".  Yes, I'm still responsible to parent my child to the best of my ability, but God is not meeting with me to discuss all the ways I can improve.  Instead, God tugs me towards Himself.  I learn to trust Him with my heart a bit more, and out of that restored self (because being close to Him always restores us in some way, you know), I am able to parent my child with love and freedom, free from fear and perfectionism. Free to not control.  Free to lavish grace on my child. 

I pause momentarily, aware for perhaps the first time, that God really knows me better than I know myself.  His words cut to the core of who I am.  He can meet my deepest, unmet, silent longings.  And He is so gracious, gentle, and comforting. That's what always surprises me. He wants to erase my fears.  I'm beginning to think I may be able to entrust my heart to Him, after all.

First Scrabble Word - "No"

She was so very proud of her very first word that she came up with all by herself, I didn't have the heart to break it to her.

Yada yada yada.....

For the whole drive, we listen to her chatter endlessly and state her opinions on everything from grace to how to run my schedule. I quietly comment to my husband, marvelling at her ability to talk so much and "know" something about everything.  She quips from the backseat, "Except biology.  I don't know much about biology."

Questions 5-year olds ask

Today, Taelyn asked me "mom, if you don't pray for someone to stay safe, do they still stay safe?" 

I still haven't answered her.  Got any suggestions?

For those who need this today.....

A tribute to Uncle Harvey or {a thread in the tapestry}



A photo I took of Uncle Harvey in July 2010. 
Doesn't it make you shake your head and smile?


As I considered how I could pay tribute to Uncle Harvey, thoughts of inadequacy entered my mind.  Who am I to speak of him?  Who am I to tell the world who he was? There are so many others who knew his heart better than I, many who had walked with him for decades, many who knew him intimately. Many whose words carry much more weight than my own feeble attempts.

But, as I thought about it, the idea of Uncle Harvey's memory being likened to a richly woven, multicoloured tapestry came to mind.  Each of our stories and memories of him weave a small thread through the thick fabric.  For some, their intimate knowledge of Uncle Harvey gives them the ability to weave their colour of thread frequently and create large, bold splashes of colour across the tapestry. Others, like myself, use a pale thread and weave with small, delicate stitches, in a corner of the fabric. However, each of our stories help to bring clarity and sharpness to our memory of who Uncle Harvey was. Each of our memories add to the depth and richness of who we all remember him to be.  Today, I write this as a humble offering, a small contribution to the vast pool of memories that help us all to remember and celebrate the man we loved.

Uncle Harvey will be remembered for his humour and sharp wit.  By talking with others over the past few days, and reading comments on Facebook, it is clear to see that he was a man who joked around with everyone and loved telling stories.  I don't think there has been a gathering in the last 30 years that I have escaped his teasing in some way. Whether his was trying to cut in front of me in the food line, or delivering a constant stream of one-liners to anyone within earshot, his wit never went unnoticed.  Humour was his constant companion.

But behind that smile, I saw a glimpse of a man driven by something other than the next good laugh.  In the summer of 2009, we had the privilege of building a house for Ash and Jerica.  Being interested in the project, Uncle Harvey made regular appearances at the house during construction.  We had some great conversations sitting on the front porch, especially Jeff and Uncle Harvey. In addition to exchanging jokes, we began to exchange stories from our lives.  I saw a man who was honest and brave in the face of health challenges, a husband who was deeply committed to his wife, a father who burst with pride when speaking of his son, a father who was eager to support his son and his beautiful bride as they started a new life together.  He was a man who kept his word.  He was a man who communicated his love through actions.  He phoned grandma and grandpa, or visited them, daily.  His priorities were reflected by his actions.

As we grieve over his death, we acknowledge our loss, but are strengthened as we focus on all that he has gained....legs that are strong, a body whole and youthful, the company of angels, and a whole new audience for his stories.

Goodbye, Uncle Harvey.  You will be missed.

Thought for the day

"There’s only one address anyone lives at and it’s always a duplex: Joy and pain always co-habit every season of life. Accept them both and keep company with the joy while the pain does its necessary renovations."  Ann Voskamp

Pine smells like Pine!

"It still smells like pine", he murmurs quietly to himself.

The "he" is my husband. The "it" is our dining room table. He is sanding its' worn, bruised surface, methodically moving the sander back and forth along its' grain, stripping away the years of abuse our family has inflicted upon it.   Dents, scratches, paint from children's art projects, nail polish, and waxy, peeling varnish, are all gently sanded away to reveal the clear, fresh, natural pine beneath.

He straightens, looks at me.  "Smell it - it still smells like pine", he repeats.  I bend closer until the sharp, fragrant scent of pine fills my senses. So good.

In that moment, I am given a picture of hope for myself.

"You're a genius" I say to the hubs, "Do you know what you just said?"

He doesn't, but the implication burns in my mind, sparking hope. On it goes, into the night.  The next day. And the next.

I am like that table. 

I have scratches and bruises, dents and scars.   Added layers to conceal who I really am.

- I have been told hurtful things that I have allowed to shape how I see myself.  Conversely, I have experienced inflated, distorted views of myself by allowing a compliment to quickly take root in the prideful soil of my heart. 

I LOVE what I read recently in "The life you've always wanted" by John Ortbeg.  The author says the following:

"It is not another person's compliment or approval that makes us feel good; rather, it is our belief that there is validity to the compliment.  In  between other people's opinions of us and our pleasure in them is our assessment of the validity of their approval.  We are not the passive victim of others' opinions.  Their opinions are powerless untill we validate them.  No one's approval will affect us unless we grant it credibility and status.  The same holds true for disapproval."

I am the queen of deciding which voices in my life I will validate.

- I have missed opportunities.

- Guilt is my too-constant companion.

- I am sometimes afraid to voice my dreams. I bury them in responsibilities until I don't know what they are.  Which is easy to do in our culture.  There are a million voices calling us to distraction from self examination.

- I fear failure, and so I don't step out. I lack courage.

- I sometimes live to appease other people's expectations.  A simple compliment can cause me to feel pressure to consistently be what I've just been told I am.

All of these things act as layers that safely, or dangerously, coccoon who I really am.

Jeepers.  Sometimes, I am a mess. 

Please tell me you are, too!

But there is hope for me.  And you, too, if you're a disaster.

As I saw the sander revealing raw, unscathed pine on our table, I knew, in that instant, that the essence of who I am is still there.  Just like pine, when sanded down, gives off the aroma of what it truly is. 

I am inside me.  You are inside you.  Shocking, isn't it?

The person God envisioned me to be a bajillion years ago is who I am.  I am not who I think I am.  Which is good news, because I am sometimes very critical of myself (know anyone like that?)

I can dust off the dreams; re-ignite passions.

I can discover the truth about who I am.  In doing so,  the deep-rooted lies are dispelled and the freedom that comes from truth can be experienced. 

So, with my right hand raised,  my resolution is this:  I will resolve to smell like myself!