A Thrill of Hope

 We didn't usually celebrate Christmas in the early days on the farm community where us girls grew up.  We didn't have a tree or lights or exchange gifts on Christmas morning.  I remember being fascinated with Christmas and spending hours looking at the Sears Christmas Wish Book, or reading cookbooks to find recipes and pictures for Christmas cookies and desserts.  Of all the traditional Christmas things, the one I remember really loving was the lights. I can vividly remember driving home in the dark after church and looking out the frosty window of the farm van at Christmas lights on the houses along the dark trans-Canada highway  I especially remember the houses at the OPP station would always have coloured lights lining the roof.  I loved those lights and to this day, the sight of those bigger-sized, old-fashioned, coloured lights brings an ache of nostalgia to my heart. 

I think partly because of that, I love Christmas... I love the lights, the music, the food.  I love all the Christmas movies.  I love baking and decorating Christmas cookies and I never feel like it's a chore to make turkey dinner. I even love the proverbially despised cranberry jelly.  I love Christmas way more than is normal for someone my age.  And yes, I am aware that it was originally a pagan holiday, incorporated into Christianity in an attempt to unite the church under Constantine or whatever, and yes, I am quite aware that most religious scholars believe Jesus was born in the spring...and I definitely know that Christmas has become commercialized and any true meaning is hard to spot in the plethora of advertising for gadgets, toys and food...and yet, I still love it and I look forward to it all year.

So, when some issues came up with my family this year, I found myself struggling with the feeling that Christmas wouldn't be the same. Okay, fine...I will be honest...I was really enraged with the situation and felt like Christmas was ruined.  I even said as much.  Several times. And I felt like it didn't make any sense to put up lights and garlands and hang stockings when Christmas didn't feel merry and bright.  And then I realized that just about everyone I know is dealing with something this year...stressful and unexpected family issues or health concerns or work challenges.  And then gradually the thought came to me...isn't the fact that so many of us are struggling right now, or are sad right now or facing serious health issues an even more important reason to celebrate Christmas??

Because after all, Christmas is about HOPE.

   Not the joy and good cheer, although they are wonderful; 

        Not the peace and goodwill, although they are a big part of the season.                 

No, to me, Christmas has always been about Hope.  

It's the hope that shines in children's eyes on Christmas Eve, knowing that when they wake up in the morning, they will have presents...it's the hope that the Elf will move every single day of December, for anyone unfortunate enough to have instituted that tradition...it's the hope that we will all be together again next year.  It's the hope we all have for happiness, for family, for a better year next year.               

 The hope of Christmas is the hope that there's something better...the hope that our circumstances will change...that we will change. The hope that a baby born in a stable would grow up and change the world.  

The hope that if we each shine our light, our one small candle...we can push back the darkness.  

So that's why to me, it's even more important to put up the lights and play the music this year...to be defiantly hopeful in the darkness.  To look for the Christmas Star.   And to feel the thrill of hope.

          And that's really why I love Christmas.   

Sincerely,

Sarah

Spring (Ish)

 It's that time of year when the days are getting longer and the songbirds are back chirping joyfully in the morning light.  Sparkling little rivers run down the streets under the warmth of the afternoon sun, and you can feel the light, playful breeze stirring the alders along the creek...spring is here.  Well...almost here.  It's definitely starting! Pretty sure...

I love walking this time of year, looking for signs of spring.  Sometimes here in Ontario, it can be very hard to spot.  You can still see a lot of snow, especially in the bush and in any shaded spots. The piles of snow in the parking lots and along the sidewalks and trails are coarse, gritty and grey looking.  There are lots of dead grasses and shrubs and the inevitable garbage slowly revealed by the melting snow...soggy papers, crumpled coffee cups, candy wrappers...the odd lost mitten or sock. 

Sometimes I look at my life and that's what I see:  

 Sodden newspapers with once important headlines,

 remnants of coffee cups and chocolate bars,                                                                                         dead grass and sticks. Mud.  

But when I'm out walking this time of year, I see other things too...I see the fuzzy soft pussy willows along the creek and the bright red twigs of dog wood brightening the dull landscape.  I see the little bits of green grass along the side of buildings.  Along the side of the trail, if I look closely, I can see the reddish-brown bits of fern starting to grow underneath the dead leaves of last year.  And in the neighbourhood flower beds, the first tulips and daffodils are breaking through the ground.  And I can't help but think that this is sometimes what Hope looks like...it's the tiny signs of life persistently showing up, even though it keeps snowing...even though everything looks dead, and brown...even when all we can see on the surface of our lives is mud and garbage.

Before long, a soft green haze will start to soften all the dead looking branches, and the creek will flow freely and happily.  And there will be flowers.  In my neighbourhood, everyone puts out flowers as fast as they can, in planters and window boxes, setting them out almost before it's quite warm enough.  Before we even have our annual neighbourhood Spring clean-up day.  The dead grass and leaves are still there.  Even some trash is still there.  But everyone sees the flowers.  

        And that's what I think Grace is like.  

It doesn't hide the things that still need to be cleaned up, 

        or the work that is yet to be done...                                      

    but it draws our attention to the beauty that is there instead. 

So, keep looking for the flowers!  (Even if it snows again)

Happy Spring Everyone!

Sincerely, 

Sarah

Not A Political Post

 For anyone that doesn't know, my sister Hannah lives in Alaska.  My sister Susie lives in Maine, so basically as far across the country from each other as you can get.  And I live in Northern Ontario, in Canada...several days of driving away from either of them, or a really expensive plane ticket.  And a border crossing.  

Besides physical distance, there are many other things that differentiate us from each other - things like what foods we like, what allergies we have, how many children we have, how tall we each are...and there are other things that have impacted us separately to make us the way we are, even more different from each other -  such as education, life experiences, friendships, relationships, jobs and of course our beliefs. 

Despite these facts, we maintain a very close relationship.  You have to know this took a LOT of work...especially when we were younger.  Like all siblings, we did not always get along...and we did all the usual things like taking each other's stuff, tattling on each other, trying to make each other look bad.  Two of us would frequently try to ditch the third, who would run whining to our Mom (Hannah - it was Hannah, in case there was any doubt).  One of us, being taller and stronger would often exert her physical strength to make others of us do things we didn't want to do such as eat a huge spoonful of brewers yeast - without gagging. (It took me several tries and sometimes on dark nights, I can still taste it!)  Another of us sometimes used her extensive vocabulary to write mean bits of poetry about the others, or make them unwittingly say derogatory comments about themselves. (I can still hear Hannah earnestly explaining that she was very  depraved - she meant deprived! - while Susie and I rolled on the floor with mirth)  But I think because we did spend a good bit of time in fairly isolated settings...and mostly because our Mom made us...we gradually become friends.  Close friends.  Best friends.  

And I have been thinking about this a lot lately.  Because of course we don't all support the same political platforms, and we don't always agree about the courses of action that our respective countries have taken lately.   

FIRST, let me quickly interject that this is not going to be a political post.  When we started Lantern Light & Laughter, we agreed that our goal was to shine hope into the world, and to maybe share some of the skills and knowledge we have been blessed with, and not to bring politics into the mix.  So I'm not doing that.  

What I am going to do is share what I think keeps my sisters and I close, despite significant differences.  

So I started thinking about this a couple of weekends ago, because Susie and I were discussing something that was in the news.  She could easily tell what I thought, because of a social media post that I liked (thanks algorithms!) so she sent me some links to look at that offered a different perspective.  I read her information and found it had viewpoints that I had not considered...but guess what happened?  I still did not agree with her.  But...I could understand why she felt the way she did and when I responded with my reasons, she could see why I felt differently. We know that our different life experiences have impacted what we understand or believe about certain things.  I did not yell at her or call her names.  And she did not block me...(at least, I think?)...and we remained close as ever.  

And that made me think about how many times these days, I see people arguing on social media platforms, so entrenched in their viewpoint and so unwilling to acknowledge the perspective of someone else.  I see lengthy threads where the conversation spirals into personal attacks and where people are seemingly unable to separate the issue from the person.  Instead of arguing for or against a concept, which in itself might still be acrimonious, the dialog consists of vicious name-calling and questioning the morals, intelligence and even the heritage of the opposing sides.  It doesn't take much to go too far...or to say too much.  At the cost of their friendships.  And worse, at the cost of family.  Honestly, as someone who has legitimately lost many family members to accidents and illness, I cannot understand how you can cut someone off completely simply because they don't agree with you??  (But that's my own personal issue, so we'll leave that one for now.)

I think as a society, we have forgotten to look for the middle, for the compromise.  And I know that word is alarming to anyone that grew up under Christian principles, but I'm not using it in the sense that you compromise your beliefs, but rather that you find a way to extend understanding and to try to see how someone in a different situation from you might experience things.  And also look at your own responses and be honest about what makes you feel strongly one way or another.  And most of all, recognize that there are more important things than being right.  And that you can win and still lose.  

And that standing up for something or someone is not the same as standing against someone.  

And that sometimes, the best thing you can do is just be quiet.  After all, no matter what any of us says or does, we don't know the end of the story.  Only One knows that.  All we can control is how we act and how we respond.  All we can do is try to act right in the current situation.

That's what my sisters and I try to remember.  And so far, it seems to be working.  

Thanks for listening to my rant.

Sincerely,

Sarah

Irish Thoughts

 My sisters and I are proud of our Irish roots - even though they are a great-grandmother away- and we always love to exchange Irish blessings on St. Patrick's Day. (Our children explain to us that most Americans claim some sort of Irish heritage, and it's not that unusual.) My favorite one is "May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back..."  

A few weekends ago, my husband and I went to Seward, Alaska.  It's about a 9 hour drive from our home and you go through at least three mountain passes along the way. The views were breathtaking around us.  Fortunately, I wasn't driving this time, so I had lots of chances to snap photos and exclaim over the views.  

Right in front of me was the navigational map in our car and I was really struck by how different our journey looked on the 2-dimensional map view than it did in reality out the window. If you looked just at the map, you would think it was going to be a relatively flat drive. Yet, here I was surrounded by mountains, lakes and forests. 

How often do we plan a journey - either real or metaphorical, and think it that things will turn out 

         for sure a certain way?

But....Everything looks different

                                            in reality.

Your plan might look flat, even boring.  

You might have a strong purpose, and a certain destination.  But the reality will take you to places you never imagined....

Perhaps through difficulty. 

Perhaps you find unexpected beauty.  

      Perhaps you find friends. 

Maybe there is sunshine, snow or rain.  

Your destination might even change. 

 I have learned that sometimes the journey is more important than the destination. 

No matter what your road looks like today, 

may you find blessing and friendship along the way, and may you enjoy the journey.

                          Happy St. Patrick's Day!     

   

Control and Chaos

         The fantasies begin during the dark season, while snow lies deep in the fields and the woodpiles dwindle daily.  The January arrival of all the catalogs I subscribed to willy-nilly makes it worse. I try to focus. To be present in this season.  I really do love winter and cold and snow. But my mind wanders.  I sit through the long evenings circling and marking the things I want...all the newest flowers and all the tried-and-true vegetable seeds.  I do the math and do a lot of editing, wishing someday I could afford everything and imagining the resulting chaos of color! 

        As the warmth of the February sun increases, I reach for my pen and graph paper and begin planning my garden.

         I blame my mother for this seasonal disorder. 

        And my grandfather. 

        And various other irresponsible adults from my childhood.

                     #metoo if this is your story.  

                     I'm here to tell you it's ok. 

                     And there is no help. 😂

         I did not always love gardening. As a kid, I often thought I would be found dead at the end of a long row beside a pile of weeds.  Somewhere along the way that changed, and the joy of growing things took hold. (or took over)

        Every season has its own challenges and benefits, and each offers life lessons out there in the dirt. The most important is this. Ya gotta roll with it.   I make plans and draw them but often I have to change them. Or I decide that a different way works better when I'm out in the actual garden. The weather, the bugs, the chaos that sometimes comes... seasons too short or too long and plans that get trashed...it's all a part of it, and the learning and doing never stop.  There are things you can control and things you can't.

        Like your memory.

        Once I bought two bags of gladiolus bulbs on a really good deal at Walmart in February and when it was finally warm enough to plant them, I couldn't find them! Since I got them way too early, I thought I had put them in the root cellar to keep...but they were gone.

        So, the next time I went back to the store, I grabbed two more bags. I was determined to have a beautiful circle of them!  Of course, I found the other bulbs in another cool place - the bottom of the restaurant-sized cooler in the back room! It was a lot of work, but I planted all 120 around the farm and garden!   They were gorgeous! Note: I do not view this as a waste of money. 

        Whether you are an experienced gardener or just starting, I hope you know the satisfaction of a well-planned and executed garden, a fine growing season, and an abundant harvest. 

        And may sunflowers surprise you and grow wherever the squirrels plant them!  

These are two plans I have for this year. 

I am planting an apothecary garden! 

And trying a few new things...like gourds and luffas

and I want to make a tunnel for the squashes!

(I may be addled by Pinterest!)  I'll let you know what happens!

      I would love to see your plans in the comments! 

       And what is your favorite bean or tomato?

       

     Keep believing in Springtime and Harvest!

        Keep planning and being flexible!

      Keep growing toward the light.

      

    

  

Cheer for Yourself

 A few weeks ago, I was timekeeping for a minor hockey game in one of our local rinks. In this particular rink, the timekeeper booth is situated between the player benches...which means you can hear EVERYTHING that is said on the bench during the game.  One of the coaches for the Home team was very loud.  He did not have any amount of moderation or nuance to his tone...it was full volume, full blast, non-stop, straight-up yelling.  As you can imagine...It. Was. Annoying! 

Except, I realized something...gradually...through the din. I realized that at the top of his loud, rasping, incredibly irritating voice, he was yelling nice things...encouraging things to his team.  Things like:

"YOU`VE GOT THIS!!  

                             YOU CAN DO IT!  

                                                          DON`T GIVE UP!"

And when a player came back to the bench discouraged because he hadn't scored, the Coach bellowed to him: "IT’S OKAY...DON’T SWEAT IT...YOU’LL GET THE NEXT ONE!"

Whenever the team did score, he literally jumped up and down and clapped for his team...giving them a high-five as they skated in from their shift, and cheering loudly.  So excited, in fact, that my co-worker and I were sure he would either completely lose his voice or have a stroke before the game was over.  

Afterwards...when the Advil kicked in and my headache went away...I started thinking how great it was for those players to have a coach who was so supportive and encouraging...trust me, there are lots that aren’t like that...I hear them just as clearly.  And I felt just a little bit jealous, wishing I could have that in my own life...and, yes,  I know we all have family and friends who cheer for us and encourage us...but imagine having that all the time, for EVERYTHING you do...loud, hearty, unmitigated encouragement?

Instead we normally let ourselves listen to a barrage of unhelpful, non-stop negative content. I am certain that I’m not the only person that hears running commentary in my head all day long.  It usually sounds a bit like this:

"Oh, that was dumb!  Why did you do that?  Why did you say that?  Real smart, Sarah...real smart!  Wow. Just...wow!  No wonder your life is a disaster.  Stop talking.  Stop talking...stop right now...you are just making it worse.  What. An. IDIOT! "

BUT...What if we could change that...and tell ourselves only encouraging and positive things?  What if we cheered for ourselves, as loudly and enthusiastically as that coach did...telling ourselves not to give up. To keep going.  To take another shot.  

And let ourselves be happy and excited and celebrate every success, no matter how small.  

What would happen in our lives? I mean, obviously positivity and joy, and all the accompanying mental and physical benefits of those...but what else? 

Because if we cheer ourselves on and believe in ourselves, what wouldn’t be possible?

I think I might just try it...Yay me!  Go for it!  Well done, old chap. Jolly good!  

You try it now...I know you can do it!  You’ve got this!

Sincerely, 

Sarah

Dream Small

     I have a cute little song on my playlist called Dream Small by Josh Wilson.  My youngest daughter sent it to me a while back.  It's about the little things we can do right where we are.

    I thought of it the other day when she sent me a picture of herself. She just had all her long, thick hair cut off to donate to cancer patients for wigs. This is the third time she has donated, fulfilling a promise she made to herself at twelve years old. 

     I am so stinkin' proud of her! 

    I would follow her example, but no one would want my sad hairs for themselves!  

There are other small things I can do...make soup, for instance, for someone who's sick. Every time I go to a cancer ward there are blankets and booties and hats knit and crocheted by busy hands and waiting hearts. Small things. 

    Gandalf the Grey famously said:

"Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I have found. I have found that it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

    I think of a young man I know who stayed home with his children since currently his place of employment is closed.  Not because he can't work elsewhere, but because his sweet little girl has allergies, and it is best for her at home.

    He isn't a bum or a loser, he's amazing. Fighting his own hard battles while protecting the young, isn't that what warriors do? His young wife has picked up the task of breadwinner - also courageous!

I'm pretty sure this is an everyday, common, occurrence these days. But I see it as Courage.   

    I know a young couple who are raising their nieces and nephews quietly and without fanfare stepping in and giving them a loving safe home. Beautiful. 

 I know there are so many similar stories. Quiet heroes... living legends of kindness. 

 Grandparents, neighbors, countrymen: ordinary folk.

 I know a high school kid who lived in the basement and took care of his siblings during Covid. His mom was a nurse, on the frontlines at that time and so had to isolate herself to provide for them. 

Courage. 

Crazy amazing courage. 

He was alone a lot, fought through the dark, and won - told his demons to back off because he was responsible.

    In the world scheme of things, only about two people knew about this. Or cared. But I find it wonderful. 

    Awesome!

    Impressive. 

    And I was proud of him too!

    I know there are other kinds of people. Mean. Rude. Careless. Bad, even. But I love the stories I find of the people who don't know they're heroes, who do extraordinary things every day. 

    If you need encouragement today, look around. Listen. You'll find great deeds happening! Steady, undramatic, salt-of-the-earth folks, living with honor and keeping their word. 

    I don't want to be polarized by age, 

generational differences, 

politics (Oh, dear Lord!) 

sports, religion, 

spelling, or math! 

I want to see sparks of light, 

catch a stranger's eye and smile, 

and notice the good, great, and courageous

 people around me!

    I also dream big, and I should! There are so many 

things I still need to do! But on the way to great things...

Do small things with great love.

💖Susie