It’s Thanksgiving Day in Canada, a white one here in our much-loved North. A few golden trees are shining through the snow, kind of like hope. I keep thinking of poetry about October’s bright blue weather and wondering where it is.
Dan took Andre hunting this morning. Liesl woke up early and snuggled on the couch with me. She was “stouving”, so she warmed up some leftover baked oatmeal. When the hunters got back, she raced out to meet them, hoping they’d brought “fresh venison for dinner.” I think that comes from Little House in the Big Woods, of which she is a current avid fan.
While we ate bacon and eggs, I wondered aloud about what people in hurricane-riddled Haiti are eating today. The ache of need there and in so many other places can make us feel affluence guilt on a daily basis. Is that healthy, do you think? How do you deal with it?
As we speak, the Trump/Clinton race for the election rages on. My facebook page is full of my (many & mostly conservative) friends’ take on the subject, angry or stony faces of both nominees filling the newsfeed. This morning I keep thinking of that song, “If Jesus Himself will be our leader, we will walk through the valley in peace.” I wish He was here to walk with us, to touch us and give us that peace. But maybe we’d miss Him, like so many did 2000 years ago.
The last six weeks have been difficult ones at our house, difficult by first-world standards anyway. Besides rutted fields from fall rains and getting back into school schedule and a weird, unnamed stomach bug that put almost everyone on the couch with varying degrees of discomfort, we are facing some hard life issues that I can’t even really talk about because they’re too personal and painful and uncertain. Being quiet in difficulty is not my strong point, but I’m learning. I’m also learning that it’s easy to think you’re kind of learning to be strong when things are just a little bit hard, but then they get harder and you realize how much you need faith and others and Jesus because your strength is no match for Harder.
You can pray for our family if you think of it, unspoken prayer requests here. I have always kind of hated those things, but now I know why people give them.
This post about beauty is so good. It’s just where I find myself. Sometimes thanks seems impossible, but always there is beauty. And when you identify the beauty, the thanks usually follows.
I rescued these three pretties before it snowed too hard.
And since the Inspirations journal that my friend Luci Miller gave me is full, I get to start this purple ($4) Dollarama beauty.
And there’s always humour too. Dan and the boys were guffawing over this meme this morning while Tori and I rolled our eyes.
About the last post I wrote? I wrote it in overstatement. Our 12 year old boys do smile at us. My 14 year old hugged me on the way into the grocery store on Tuesday evening. We talk a lot, discuss the world and people, have many.good.times here. We love our teens and they love us. Just to get that straight. But I’m not minimizing the hard times, the estranged times, the we-did-something-really-wrong-here moments. That’s what I was writing about. The mean old comparison thief can make it look like everyone else’s families are put together Just So and mine is floundering horridly. I like to tell the kids that we probably look like that on the outside too. But that’s not really what we’re here to do, show you only the best and hide the ugly. Not that the opposite is beautiful either. Balance in all things, folks. Balance. I’ll tell you when I’ve achieved it.
Here’s to peace in the storm,
Jesus as Leader,
and the final Triumph of Love over Evil.
Love you all.