Walking on water… sort of!

Last summer when we were camped at beautiful Porteau Cove with Matt, Robin and the boys, I saw something out on the water that I’d never seen before; a lone figure who appeared at first glance to be walking on the water! Can you see him in the early morning mist?

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I soon learned that he was stand up paddleboarding, a sport that combines surfing with kayaking or canoeing and that has become increasingly popular over the past ten years. Watching him brought back delightful memories of the styrofoam paddle board that my parents gave me when I learned to swim over 50 years ago. We lived on the waterfront in those days and I spent countless hours playing on that board. It was meant for lying on, of course, but I had to try kneeling and even standing on it. Kneeling wasn’t too great a challenge, but I never did manage to stand successfully. The board was simply too small and unstable for that, but splash after splash, I had fun trying!

When I saw the stand up paddleboarder at Porteau Cove, something new was immediately added to the bottom of my unwritten bucket list. I had no idea when or where it would happen, but I knew that I wanted to try this new sport. This week, at Barnabas, I had my chance and it was great! My first time out the water was very calm and the width of the board made balancing easy. It really did feel a bit like walking on water. Returning to the dock, however, I approached too quickly and took a spectacular spill! Fortunately, I managed not to hurt myself and was eager to try again another day. This time, there were small waves to contend with providing a bit more of a workout for my knees and core muscles. I managed to end my time on the water much more gracefully the second time around though and left determined to try the sport again. Fortunately, there are a number of places where I can rent a board when we’re back this way again.

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Never too old to try something new, I hope!

Barnabas

Last Sunday afternoon, we left our son’s home in North Vancouver and headed for Gibsons, setting of the popular Canadian comedy-drama series, The Beachcombers, that ran from October 1972 to December 1990. There we climbed aboard the Kinbasket Queen and left the rest of the world behind! Our destination was a five day family retreat at Barnabas Landing, perched on a hillside on Keats Island overlooking Howe Sound.

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Taking it’s name from the New Testament character whose name means Son of Encouragement, Barnabas Family Ministries has been dedicated to strengthening, educating and encouraging families since 1986. Barnabas is sometimes referred to as a “thin place”, one of those wonderful places where the boundary between heaven and earth seems especially thin and we feel just a little closer to eternity. This past week was certainly like that, a time when we left the stresses and concerns of this world behind immersing ourselves in the beauty of the location, enjoying luxurious accommodations and savoury meals, and being renewed physically, mentally and spiritually.

Lamplighter's Cottage, our home away from home for the week

Lamplighter’s Cottage, our home away from home for the week

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Our days were full but energizing. Every morning after breakfast the children went off with their various age group leaders for a wide variety of activities while the adults attended sessions with our speaker. Afternoons were family activity time with many options to choose from. On Monday, Richard and I joined a group for a hike across the island to Bridgeman’s Bluff, one of the higher points on the island, where we enjoyed the spectacular view.

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Other afternoons were spent taking long walks along the rocky beach, doing crafts, enjoying a wide variety of waterfront activities and visiting the General Store for ice cream treats.

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Bedtime for the kids was a highlight for the young parents because it was taken care of by the staff! That’s right! While the adults attended another session with the speaker, staff tucked their little ones into bed and continued to look after them until 10:00 PM. After our sessions, the General Store was open again for the adults to enjoy a steamed milk or a cup of tea and a snack before heading back to their rooms and taking over their parental duties.

Our speaker for the week was leadership coach, Mark Warren, who specializes in helping people discover and experience their personal life callings. This was Matt and Robin’s third summer retreat at Barnabas and Mark was speaker at their first one. They enjoyed him so much that they specifically chose this week in order to hear him again and I can definitely see why. I found myself looking forward to each session. Learning about our core strengths and exploring our personality types, we came away with lots to consider and apply. We also learned about empathy and how to diagnose and master the stories in our heads about other people and how they affect communication and relationships. A dynamic Christian, Mark applied biblical principles to all that he taught us.

In addition to being a retreat centre, Barnabas is also a working farm and much of what we ate during the week came from its organic gardens. Everything was cooked from scratch and was delicious! With the exception of one formal, adult-only dinner, meals were served buffet style on the Orchard Terrace, a casual outdoor setting. Yes, we were well fed mentally, spiritually and physically!

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Tote-ally awesome!

When I read “Crashing the Cancer Club“, Jenny Charlesworth’s story of surviving cervical cancer, in the March 2015 issue of Chatelaine magazine, I immediately responded with a letter to the editor via email. I’d completely forgotten about that until I flipped open the May issue and saw my letter in print! A bright pink tag announced that it was “This Month’s Winner”!

I vaguely remembered seeing a tiny note at the bottom corner of previous Letters pages announcing the chance to win a prize for writing a winning letter, but I didn’t give it much thought. I was just happy to see my letter in print! Sometime later, I looked back at the March issue and saw that the prize that was being offered was a blender. I already had a perfectly good blender and no real need for another one, so I wasn’t even concerned about the fact that I hadn’t included my mailing address with my letter.

Almost exactly a month ago, in the middle of June, I received a surprise email from Dominique at Chatelaine telling me that I’d won a leather tote from The Sak and asking for my address and phone number!

Leather tote or blender? Which would I rather have? I looked up The Sak website and checked out the many tote bags on offer. I love my blender, especially the fruit smoothies that I often make in it, but it was no contest. There were lots of bags that I could visualize myself carrying and I began to wonder which one would soon be mine!

Today, it arrived by courier… the Palisades soft leather tote in the shitake tassel design. I love it’s casual, slightly bohemian look. With it’s spacious fully lined interior, zippered inside pocket and magnetic closure, it has plenty of room for essentials like my wallet, cell phone, sunscreen and camera. In fact, I have a feeling that it’s going to be an ideal travel companion! I wonder where we’ll go together?

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What does retirement look like?

What does retirement look like to you?

One of my favourite blogs is Over 50 Feeling 40 by San Antonio, Texas blogger, Pamela Lutrell. While essentially a fashion blog, it’s much more than that. In Pam’s own words, it’s “a style blog about strength, confidence and joy.” She encourages midlife women to not only look their best and feel their best, but to be the very best that they can be. The one topic that Pam and I seem to disagree on is retirement.

At 62, I have been retired for eight years. At 61, Pam doesn’t see retirement in her future. She recently left her position as a high school journalism teacher and is presently searching for a new career. Why? “Many think we are suppose to retire to the golf course and put hard work behind us. I ponder how long I will work hard a lot lately… I think it is healthy and want to continue doing it as long as possible,” she wrote in a recent post.

Though I may be putting words in her mouth, I get the impression that Pam sees retirement as similar to being put out to pasture; no longer being able to accomplish anything of value. Not me! That’s definitely not what my retirement looks like.

So what has it looked like so far?

Retirement has included fulfilling long held dreams like teaching English in Japan and later, China. One might argue that that wasn’t retirement. After all, we worked hard and we earned a paycheque. It wasn’t really about the work or the money, however. Those were simply what allowed us to be there. It was all about adventure; about living shoulder to shoulder with the people of another land and learning about their culture. It was about traveling to other locations in Asia during our holiday breaks. You can read about those and other retirement adventures by clicking on the appropriate country names in the sidebar.

Retirement brought some unexpected surprises. Learning to operate a tractor and a combine definitely wasn’t part of this city bred girl’s retirement plan, but several years of helping a friend at seeding time and harvest gave me more joy than I could ever have imagined and instilled within me a love for the land that I never thought possible.

Retirement has included volunteering; everything from driving elderly friends to medical appointments to spending a summer doing pastoral supply on the tiny Pacific island of Saipan. Over the past two years, my health has curtailed our ability to spend extended periods of time overseas, but how thankful I am that we retired early enough to do those things while we could! These days, volunteering includes online mentoring, helping younger women deal with some of the issues that made my life most difficult during my younger years.

We’ve always believed in lifelong learning, so retirement has also included further education. Thanks to the internet, over the past year, I was able to audit two university level courses through Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas from the comfort of my own living room.

Retirement has also given me more time to pursue my passion for writing, mostly through the blog, but I presently have another article awaiting publication as well. In addition to my own writing, I’ve edited university papers and a masters thesis for friends and family and I was even contacted by a university professor in Portugal who sometimes publishes research papers in English. He was looking for someone to do editorial work for him and found my name online. Every now and then, I receive an email from Jose with another research proposal or paper for me to edit.

Retirement has meant time on the golf course, but believe it or not, we’ve golfed much less since we retired than we did before! We simply haven’t had time. Life has been too full, too busy, too exciting.

My husband’s favourite definition of retirement is being able to do what you want to do when you want to do it. For me, that meant purposely lying awake for about a hour at 4:30 this morning listening to the music of the rain outside my window (we’ve been experiencing a severe drought here in central Alberta) and then sleeping in until 9:00. Other days, it means an alarm clock ringing early in the morning so we can set off on another adventure.

I realize that we were fortunate to be able to retire as early as we did and that not everyone has that luxury, but we lived carefully throughout our working years with that goal in mind. My pension doesn’t come close to being enough to live on, but fortunately, my husband’s is adequate to meet our needs.

Do we ever regret retiring as early as we did? Never! Would we do it again? In a heartbeat! We loved our careers, but they didn’t define us. Unlike Pam, I don’t need a job to go to to give my life a sense of purpose or to make me feel fulfilled.

What about you? Are you retired yet? Do you want to be? What do you think is the perfect age to retire?

What does retirement look like to you?

The sky is falling!

After writing a couple of somewhat controversial posts over the past few days, it’s time for a more lighthearted one.

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Richard was recently accused of name calling when he used a common English idiom in a comment on Facebook. In response to a doom and gloom posting expressing a friend’s fear about what the newly elected NDP government would do to our province’s economy, he wrote “I just checked again. The sky is still safely in place, it did not fall.” He was, of course, making reference to The sky is falling!, an idiom which had it’s origins in the ancient folk tale, Henny Penny, or as it’s sometimes known, Chicken Little, about a chicken who believes the world is coming to an end. The phrase features prominently in the story, and has passed into the English language as a common idiom indicating a hysterical or mistaken belief that disaster is imminent.

I don’t know if our friend truly believed that Richard was calling her Chicken Little or if she was just very upset. The idiom is one that has been used frequently in discussions and articles in Alberta since the May 5th election. In fact, it appeared twice in one article that we read today. In any case, the misunderstanding reminded me again what a challenging language English is and how much fun we had teaching it in both China and Japan.

Some of our adult students in Japan were particularly intrigued by idioms. Kyoko was a librarian who was already quite conversant in English and who wanted to study nothing else! In my opinion, she was an adult student paying good money for private lessons and should have been able to choose what she wanted to study, but the school had a different philosophy and I couldn’t get away with that. We agreed to compromise. She would study the prescribed curriculum if I would include one or two idioms at the end of each lesson.

So what is an idiom? It can be defined as an expression that cannot be understood from the meanings of its separate words, but that has a separate meaning of its own. The origin of many have been lost in antiquity, but our language is littered with them. Some people, Richard included, use them frequently in everyday conversation. I use them much less often, but I thought it would be fun to do a bit of research and share the stories behind a few of the more common ones here.

raining c & dIt’s raining cats and dogs! simply means that it’s pouring rain. There are many theories about the origin of this one, but the most probable is that it had it’s beginning in 17th century England. Public sanitation wasn’t what it is today and during deluges, rainwater coursing down the streets would often carry dead animals with it. As a result, even though cats and dogs never literally showered down from above, they became associated with severe rainstorms.

pintMind your Ps and Qs means to watch your manners or be on your best behaviour. It dates back to a time when local taverns, pubs and bars served their patrons drinks by the quart and the pint. Bar maids had to keep an eye on the customers and keep the drinks coming paying special attention to who was drinking pints, and who was drinking quarts.

 horse's mouthWhen someone uses the phrase, straight from the horse’s mouth, we know that they have heard something directly from the source. They are, therefore, to be believed. Horses have been a prized commodity down through the ages. In the past, a dishonest seller might lie about a horse’s age, but a potential buyer who knew anything about horses knew that you could tell the age by examining the size and shape of its teeth, literally getting the truth straight from the horse’s mouth.

side of bedDo you ever get up on the wrong side of the bed? If so, you start the day in a less than pleasant mood. In Roman times, it was considered bad luck to get out of bed on the left side. Hence if you got up on that side, your day was destined to be a bad one.

redWhen you paint the town red, you go out and celebrate in a somewhat wild and flamboyant way that likely includes imbibing in alcohol. There are several suggestions as to the origin of this one, but the most common dates back to 1837 and a well-documented story about the Marquis of Waterford and a group of his friends running riot in the Leicestershire town of Melton Mowbray, painting the town’s toll-bar and several other buildings a bright red.

stagecoach11Do your kids like riding shotgun; running to jump in the front seat of the vehicle with you whenever you go out? If so, they are replicating a historically important role. In the days when stagecoaches were the primary mode of transport, the seat immediately next to the driver was reserved for an individual with a shotgun whose job it was to ward off any bandits attempting to loot passengers.

axeDo you ever fly off the handle? In pioneer days, handmade axes weren’t always the best examples of craftsmanship. Occasionally, a particularly poor design would result in the head unexpectedly flying off its handle. This became an apt metaphor for passionate bursts of rage or losing one’s temper.bite bullet

If our friend’s predictions about Alberta’s NDP government come true, we may have to bite the bullet, accepting the impending hardship and enduring the resulting pain. This idiom has a straightforward history. In days gone by, when doctors were short on anesthesia, they would ask the patient to bite down on stick of wood or a bullet during a medical procedure to distract them from the pain.

tighten-belt-100x100Or perhaps we’ll have to tighten our belts, lowering our standard of living because we’ll have less money than we had before. This saying comes from the depression era when there was little money for anything including food so people had to tighten their belts in order to keep their pants from falling down.

I could go on and on. There are estimated to be more than 25 000 idioms in the English language!

Do you have a favourite?

Slippery slope?

My granddaughter is five. She still sleeps with her favourite purple blanket and believes that she’s going to grow up to be a unicorn, but in some countries her parents might already be looking for a husband for her. Every day, more than 25000 girls under the age of 18 are married worldwide. One in 9 girls in developing countries are married before the age of 15; many by age 8 or 9.

We, in North America, think we’re enlightened. It will never happen here, we tell ourselves. Really? A few decades ago, did any of us expect to see same sex marriage legalized? In 1974, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) removed homosexuality from its catalogue of illnesses. Instead, it became a sexual orientation. Today, there are those who want to see pedophilia treated in the same manner. Until recently, it has been widely viewed as a psychological disorder triggered by early childhood trauma, but no more. Now, many experts see it as a biologically rooted condition that does not change; a sexual orientation. In fact, in the fall of 2013, the latest edition of the APA’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders referred to pedophilia as a sexual orientation for the first time. After inquiries from news organizations, the APA issued a “correction” stating “sexual orientation” is not a term “used in the diagnostic criteria for pedophilic disorder,” but do you see where this is going?

“It should be clear to anyone with any grey matter that pedophilia is just another oppressed sexual orientation or interest, and age doesn’t somehow magically make consensual sex between two people into something evil,” writes one user of a website for self-identified individuals who are sexually attracted to children. So can a 5 year old give consent? What about an 8 or 9 year old? If a man she trusted asked my granddaughter if she wanted to “play” with him, what might she say? Would that be consent? I know this sounds horrifying or perhaps even ridiculous to most, but is it any more abhorrent or ridiculous than the concept of same sex marriage would have been to our grandparents?

Sadly, it isn’t only pedophiles themselves who think that sex with children is okay. A National Council for Civil Liberties (UK) report, written for the Criminal Law Revision Committee in 1976, included the following:

“Childhood sexual experiences, willingly engaged in, with an adult result in no identifiable damage. The Criminal Law Commission should be prepared to accept the evidence from follow-up research on child ‘victims’ which show there is little subsequent effect after a child has been ‘molested’. The real need is a change in the attitude which assumes that all cases of pedophilia result in lasting damage.”

With ideas like that floating around, is it really so outlandish to think that we might someday see marriage between children and adults become legal in the western world? Not in my lifetime, I hope, and not in my granddaughter’s!

Personally, I think that polygamy, which is actually already practiced in our country, will likely come first, but that’s a different topic.

What do you think? Once again, I invite all opinions as long as they are presented in a non confrontational manner. You can even tell me that you think I’m crazy, as long as you do it politely!

Girls Not Brides

Girls Not Brides Website

Why the rainbow?

What I’m about to say will probably be offensive to some, but I’m going to say it anyway because I am also offended. I understand that there are those who are celebrating the US Supreme Court’s historic decision to legalize same sex marriage across that nation, but I am offended by the rainbows that are cropping up everywhere. I was offended when I came to WordPress to write this post and found a rainbow banner plastered across the top of the page. I was offended when I went to Facebook today and encountered numerous rainbowed profile pictures.

Don’t get me wrong. Am I offended because people are using Facebook’s rainbow filter to express their sexual orientation or to show support for gay friends and/or loved ones? No! I am offended in the same way that I take offence to non Christians taking Christ out of Christmas and Easter. I am offended because the LGBT community chose as their symbol something that God used to symbolize something entirely different. Personally, I think there’s significance in that.

So, how did the rainbow become a symbol of gay pride? For some, it’s many colours simply represent diversity within the LGBT community. The rainbow flag was originally designed by San Francisco artist, Gilbert Baker, in the 1970s and had eight stripes: hot pink to represent sex, red for life, orange for healing, yellow for the sun, green for serenity in nature, turquoise for art, indigo for harmony and violet for spirit. The pink stripe was eliminated first when Baker approached a company to mass produce the flags and discovered that hot pink fabric was not available commercially. Given what the flag stands for, I find it quite hilarious that he simply chose to eliminate the stripe representing sex! Indigo was later removed to give the flag an even number of stripes. Again, I find it a bit odd that the stripe representing harmony was removed. If there is anything that’s needed where this topic is concerned, it’s harmony!

But, why am I offended by this use of the rainbow? Christian or not, you are probably familiar with the biblical story of Noah’s ark. According to Genesis 6, a time came when “The Lord saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time.” Perhaps, a time not so different from our own! We are told that God “was grieved that He had made man on the earth, and His heart was filled with pain.” As a result, He decided to send a flood to wipe out mankind, but He chose to preserve one family, the family of a righteous man named Noah, to begin again. When the flood waters finally receded and Noah’s family, as well as the animals that had been preserved with them, were able to leave the ark, Genesis 9 tells us that God made a covenant with them that never again would flood waters destroy all life on earth. Then, He set a rainbow in the sky as a sign of His promise.

“Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.”  Genesis 9:16 NIV

That’s the rainbow I’m thankful for; a symbol of hope in a world that often seems devoid of hope! We live in a time of moral decay and depravity, but our God has promised not to send the flood waters to swallow us up! I take offence to the symbol of that promise being used for anything else, most especially something that I do not believe my God would celebrate.

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As always, I invite you to leave a comment. Given the controversial nature of this topic, however, I urge you to do as I have tried to do and express your views without attacking anyone.

Dowboy

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This is one of my favourite photographs, taken of my older brother, Donald, and I when I was about four months old. Isn’t he cute? He looks like a perfect child and in many ways he was, but what you can’t see is the damage that had already been done to his brain when he suffered from encephalitis as the result of having measles about 10 months before this photo was taken. No, this isn’t a rant about vaccination, but it definitely could be!

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Encephalitis is acute inflammation of the brain caused by either a viral infection or the body’s own immune system mistakenly attacking brain tissue. The most common cause is a viral infection and it occurs in approximately 1 in every 1000 cases of measles. It develops rapidly and requires immediate care; care that was not available in the small, isolated town where we lived in 1952. In fact, it was not until a few months had passed and Donald began to lose his words and exhibit other signs of brain damage that our parents realized that something was seriously wrong.

As I grew up, I came to realize that my big brother was different from other children and I loved him with a fierce and protective love that endures to this day. Though his brain injury robbed him of the ability to speak, I knew he loved me too. In fact, I remember Mom telling me how difficult it had been to discipline me when I was little because if she spanked me, Donald cried too! She also told me that before I could say his name, I called him Dowboy.

Donald has always been a gentle soul and very easy to love, but I remember one occasion when some neighbourhood boys teased me about my brother, the “retard”, a word that I have always hated with a passion. Perhaps, it was then that I learned the power of using my words. I was a timid child, known amongst my peers as a goody two-shoes, but in that moment I must have become a wild and vicious creature! I don’t remember what I said, but I dressed those boys down to such an extent that word got back to my parents about how I’d stood up for my brother, and my father speaks of it admirably to this very day!

Though I do remember my grandmother telling me more than once that I would always have to watch out for Donald, I don’t recall my parents ever making me feel that I would have to carry the burden of caring for him. Regardless, I grew up with a tremendous sense of responsibility for Donald that has remained with me through the years even though he lives a long distance from me.

With two other handicapped men, Donald lives in a fully staffed house in North Vancouver that is operated by the Community Living Society. CLS provides residential and personalized community-based support to individuals throughout the Lower Mainland of Vancouver and the Upper Fraser Valley. As a family, we are so blessed to know that Donald receives excellent, compassionate care and lives a productive and meaningful life.

In his earlier retirement years, my father was actively involved as a CLS board member and served as president of that board for several years. Until recently, he has been the primary family contact for everything to do with Donald’s care, but Dad celebrated his 92nd birthday last week and over the past couple of years, I have been gradually taking over that role. CLS is committed to working with the families of supported individuals so meetings have been scheduled when I’m in Vancouver to visit, phone calls have been made, and when necessary, paperwork shuffled by email or snail mail.

Then came this week! On Wednesday morning, I was approaching the second last green on the local golf course when my cell phone rang. It was Trudy calling; manager of Donald’s house, and a dedicated caregiver who has been involved in his life and therefore, mine, for over 30 years. She was phoning from the emergency ward to let me know that he had fallen and they were waiting for x-rays to be taken. To make a long story short, Donald had a fractured hip and underwent surgery yesterday. It has been killing me not to be there. In my head, I know there’s nothing I could do that isn’t already being done, but my heart wants to be with my Dowboy! Fortunately, one of his caregivers has been with him throughout each day since he arrived at the hospital and they have been texting me regularly with updates. The orthopaedic surgeon and the anesthetist were both in touch with my sister (a medical doctor) by phone to discuss the medical details. Today, the physiotherapists began working with Donald and they already had him standing up. A lady from his church even visited and brought him cookies! Yes, he is in good hands and, though my heart wants to be there now, I will wait until early August when I’ll be in Vancouver to help him celebrate his 65th birthday!

Mother’s Day memories

My earliest memories of Mother’s Day involve stopping in the flower garden before we left for church. Mom would cut a blossom, most often a carnation, for each of us and pin it to our lapel. We all wore red flowers except my father. His was always white. Red, if your mother is alive, Mom would explain, and white if she is not. Her mother, my Nana, was very much alive living just up the hill from us and down the block from our church. My Gran, Dad’s mother, passed away around the time I turned five. I barely remember her and I don’t remember when my father’s blossom was red.

We lived on BC’s Sunshine Coast where flowers bloom profusely in early May. I don’t remember when we stopped keeping this very old Mother’s Day tradition, but it was likely when we moved to Vancouver where our new yard hadn’t been landscaped yet and there were no flowers growing.

Had we kept up the tradition, I would be wearing a white blossom for the first time tomorrow and the impact of that has hit me hard this past week or so. When I went into the card shops in search of birthday cards for two grandchildren who celebrated their big days recently, I was confronted with huge displays of Mother’s Day cards. Sending a card was a tradition that I continued even after Mom lost her sight and after she had difficulty remembering who I was. She could still finger the card and Dad could read its message to her. He could also gently remind her who it was from. She knew that she was loved.

This year she is gone and I have no one to send a Mother’s Day card to. Tomorrow will be a bittersweet day of remembrance. For a few moments tomorrow, in my mind at least, I’ll still be a little girl standing in a flower garden with her mother pinning a red carnation to her lapel.

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Farewell dear friend

There’s a party going on in heaven today. I’m absolutely certain of it! Our dear friend, Mary, went to be with her Lord in the wee hours of this morning and our loss is definitely heaven’s gain.

Mary Cameron 1917 - 2015

Mary Cameron
1917 – 2015

Photo: Deborah Proctor

 

Life was not always kind to Mary, but she took it in stride and never lost her fiery spirit. She came to Canada from her beloved Ireland as a war bride, leaving behind a home equipped with all the conveniences of the day and finding herself on the lonely Canadian prairie without electricity or running water. She knew the heartbreak of losing a child and endured the break-up of her marriage, but oh how fiercely she loved and how vibrantly she laughed! At 98 years old, Mary still lived alone in her own house and took part in activities at the local seniors’ centre where she was an avid bridge player. She stopped coming to church regularly only when we all stopped speaking loud enough for her to hear us. Of course, it couldn’t possibly have been that her hearing was going!

Mary was tiny in body, but huge in character. For the past twenty years or more, she was known as my husband’s “other wife.” At the reception following the funeral of an elderly gentleman from our church, a lady from out of town met Mary and the two of them struck up a conversation. Later in the afternoon, before she left, the lady returned to Mary’s table to bid her good bye. At that point, Richard was sitting beside Mary and the woman, obviously without looking too closely, said “Oh, this must be your husband.” Mary immediately went off into peals of laughter and from that moment on, always referred to Richard, who was 33 years her junior, as her husband. She loved nothing better than to raise eyebrows by referring to him as such in public settings where she would then have to tell the story of how she became his “other wife.”

Richard was MC at Mary’s 98th birthday celebration just three weeks ago where she was as bright and vibrant as ever. Sadly, I wasn’t able to be there as I’d had a treatment earlier that week and was radioactive. I was looking forward to popping over and having tea with her as soon as I felt well enough (that’s a story for another day) but now I’ll have to wait until we meet again on the streets of gold.

Mary was especially close to our youngest son, Nate. During his teenage years, she hired him to do her yard work. When he finished, she’d always have a cold pop waiting for him and they would sit and visit. Since he’s been grown and gone from home, whenever Mary saw me, she’d ask how “her boy” was doing and when he was coming home again. When he did, even if if it was only for the day, he’d almost always drop in to see her.

Three years ago, when Richard and I were performing in a community theatre production, Nate came home to attend one of our dinner theatre performances and took Mary as his date! Like any good date would, he took flowers when he went to pick her up and when I stopped by their table after the performance, she was glowing!

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Mary was always one to speak her mind and you never knew for sure what she might say! The first time Nate brought Colleen home, he took her over to meet Mary who, after spending a few minutes getting to know his girl, expressed her approval by telling him that she was very happy that he hadn’t brought home a trollop! That’s a Maryism that won’t soon be forgotten! I’m sure it will long be part of our family lore.

While chatting with my daughter this afternoon, I asked her how I could possibly put our Mary into words and she gave me a great illustration. I’m not a Dr. Who fan like she is, but according to Melaina, Mary was like the TARDIS, Dr. Who’s time machine/spaceship, “small on the outside, but endless on the inside.” Yes, our lives will definitely be a little less colourful without Mary in them, but oh how blessed we are to have known her!