The Book is Always Better

 I've been thinking a lot lately about reading and about the importance of books in my life.  At some point, I`m sure my sisters and I will write more about the importance of reading in general as we all have strong feelings on the subject, but for today, I just wanted to share a little bit about why books are so important to me.  

I learned how to read at a really young age, and I honestly can't remember ever NOT reading. Books have helped me through many difficult times - and it wasn't necessarily that I read books to escape any of those difficulties, but more that reading books helped me process, helped me understand, and helped me realize that light and laughter still existed somewhere in the world on the days when I couldn't find it in mine. 

So I read everywhere...propping up books while I was doing other work, reading by lantern light, by candle light, by flashlight under the covers, reading in the car by the headlights of cars coming up behind us on the dark highway.  Reading books inside of other books, so it would look like I was reading a text book instead of my current novel…reading over my sister's shoulders when they were reading and getting impatient because they didn't turn the pages fast enough. 

I have a lot to say about the ways that reading helps you see through another person's eyes, and enables a glimpse of another person`s thought processes and gives you the ability to see a different view of the world from your own…and the inexplicable value of all those things…but that will be another time. I've noticed two other things about reading:  the first is that the same book brings a different experience to different people…in other words, no two people read the same book.  And along with this is the fact that books I read as a young person bring a different feeling to me when I re-read them years later…they “hit differently” to express it in modern terms.   For example, I read Rilla of Ingleside (the book about Anne Shirley's youngest daughter, set during WW1) when I was in highschool.  Of course, I identified with the comedic struggles of the young heroine, totally loved the romantic parts, and was sad about other parts relating to the war…but, when I read it again a few years ago, I found myself completely heart-broken thinking about Anne (and countless other mothers) sending their boys off to fight in the horrific war thousands of miles away in Europe.  (Also, just an aside, if you want to read a good book that explains the reach and impact of WW1 on Canada from a women`s perspective, I highly recommend Rilla of Ingleside, by L. M. Montgomery)

The second thing I have found is that when you read a REALLY good book…one that you really enjoy or that made some type of impact on you, you can often recall where you were when you first read that book.  To me, this is one of the best things about reading.  I can think back to highschool, when our teacher, Grammie Val, first introduced us to the Scarlet Pimpernel books.  She read the opening chapter of the first book, and swept us into the world of intrigue and danger with dashing gentlemen who casually snatched nobility away from death, sometimes right in the very shadow of the guillotine. I loved those books…but to me, the best part is that I can picture my grandmother…wearing a green cardigan, brooch at her neck, brown eyes sparkling behind her glasses as she read, and I can hear her voice in my head…I can see my classmates leaning forward to listen, and I can hear the pop of logs in the woodstove.  Not only do I have the memory of the book, but I have a little snippet of time that comes back to me…a little snapshot of the past…like finding undeveloped film in your camera. 

I can think of countless examples…and each book brings me back to various times and places from my life…back to grade school where I can almost feel the chalk on my hands, or back to long road trips where I can feel the hot wind blowing through the open car window and hear the sound of the tires on the pavement.  When I think of books like The Northwest Passage, or Arundel, I`m back in my grandparents living room in their little house, where I can see my grandfather sitting in his big chair, with his news paper spread out on the table while my sisters and I sit and read…or I'm back sitting in the grass on the hill by our cabin reading Ivanhoe or Ben Hur while the tiny print blurs in the sunshine and mosquitoes occasionally whine past.  Other books bring me back to evenings spent reading with friends, trading books as we finished them.  Or back to cold nights in the big farmhouse at the West Farm reading with my sister, quilts piled over us and a giant bowl of popcorn between us.  

And there are countless books that when I think of them, I think of my mom…books like the The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder…or the Secret Garden or the Little Princess or Heidi or Pilgrim's Progress…or missionary stories like Isobel Kuhn or Elisabeth Elliot books…or Farley Mowat books like Lost in the Barrens or James Herriott's books…and I can hear her voice reading them over countless evenings to my sisters and me, sitting at the table with a single lantern in various little log cabins…the light shining on her face and making long shadows on the rough wall behind her, while we listened to her read.  And to me, that's one of the best things about books…they can transport you to anyplace in the world and at the same time, bring you back home.

Happy Reading!

                                                                            

Sincerely, 

Sarah

One step at a time

 "There's a view of the mountains from the top!" my friend called back to me. I had paused mid-way up the steep slope to snap a picture - but also to catch my breath. 

It was a beautiful mid-winter day, just perfect for cross country skiing.  Although it was snowing just minutes before, the skies were clearing and the sun shone brightly. 

After two miles of skiing, a hill loomed near the end of our trail.  "On my way!" I called back to her and started my climb again, sliding each ski forward purposefully.

"You'll get there, one step at a time," I reminded myself mentally and had to smile.  The slope wasn't that hard, but this is the mantra I use to get myself through many tough situations in life.  "If you just keep going - you'll make it eventually."

It all started when I was about six years old, and my father had a trapline in Northwestern Ontario.  This was back in the days when people actually walked their traplines - no fancy snow machines! Our whole family would sometimes go along with him on a shorter trail.  I was the youngest of the three sisters, and often the whiny one, who wanted everyone else to carry me or pull me on a sled.  My mom would try to motivate me by pointing out that my sisters were far ahead with our dad, and sometimes I'd take off running to catch up. 

But mostly - I would just fuss that I would never make it and someone needed to carry me or I would just die of exhaustion on the trail.  Then she would tell me that the only way to get home was one step at a time.  

"Don't think about how far it is," she would say, "just take the next step, and then the next one. Pretty soon, you will find that you're there!" 

Over the next few years of my life, I struggled with learning. Elementary school was difficult for me, and I wept my way through many nights of homework, complaining "I can't do it!" The process seemed too hard. Finding answers was too overwhelming.

 "Just do one at a time," my mom would encourage me.  (probably through gritted teeth - I was not an easy child!) 

Eventually, things got easier and I made my way through college to become an elementary teacher.  Teaching students who struggle is so fulfilling. To be a voice that says, "You can make it.  Just take the next step...and then the next one.  Don't give up, pretty soon you'll be there!"  It brings me so much joy to see them learn to persevere through the hard parts, and arrive at the "I've got this!" moment.  

It seems in life that often the thing that gives you the biggest struggle is meant to be your gift. The thing you learn so well that you can pass it on to others. Maybe you have a friend who calls back to you, "Come on, the view is worth it!" or maybe you are the friend who walks beside someone and encourages them to keep going. 

You might be facing a difficult physical struggle, it might be a mundane job that bores you, or a challenge in school.   Sometimes, you just need courage to find your way home.

Whatever struggles or obstacles you face this week, I hope you have another person to slow their pace, walk beside you and assure you - it can be done.  Or a good friend, like mine today, to call back to you that the view is worth it, if you just make it to the top.

Wishing you hope and sunshine for your journey today.

Hannah

 

New Year Thoughts

 A New Year: 

Just those words hold so much promise. 

They seem to sparkle with hope for better things…a better life, a better you,...or at least, not as bad as last year!  The New Year has come to be seen as a time for fresh starts, for making lasting changes, for reorganizing, for decluttering and for getting rid of old things. 

This year though, my thoughts at New Year have been more on what is old that should be kept.  What old things should be treasured.  What old ways should be maintained.

I suppose I started thinking about this some weeks ago, when I was out shopping with my oldest grandson.  We had just bought some winter boots for him which I was carrying as we walked out of the store…along with my purse, keys, gloves, and phone.  He nonchalantly walked out ahead of me and let the door swing back in my face. When I asked him in a soft, sweet grandmotherly voice why on EARTH he hadn't held the door for me, he just looked at me confused.  And I realized in that instant as I heard myself lecturing him about holding the door that I had become my grandmother…seriously, I am her.  Just lacking the beautiful white hair, but in every other aspect, exactly the same. (Honestly, I could do a lot worse) 

But all joking aside, I realized that holding the door for someone is becoming a lost gesture.  Along with many other things that used to be common place in our society.

Granted, some things needed to be lost…Stereotypes and gender roles for example. But there are some "old-fashioned" things that I think we have been too quick to put aside…or have allowed to fall away.  I think in our efforts to be progressive, we have started to lose the little niceties that used to be sprinkled through our interactions with one another. 

To be very clear,  I don't expect someone to hold a door for me because I'm a woman.  Or because I'm older.  Or because I might have my hands full.  I expect it because I am a person.  Another human being.  And I will hold the door for people behind me for the same reason…to acknowledge their existence…to show that I see them and that as a human being, they have value.  And it might be a simplistic approach to think that some old-fashioned mannerisms can help forestall humanities descent into darkness and depravity, but I think it can. 

Hold the door, say please and thank you, smile, say good morning or wave to your neighbours. 

These small gestures and interactions showing acknowledgement, respect and value to another person, showing kindness and consideration, are like the hand lotion of humanity, smoothing away the roughness and keeping us from really irritating one another,  I don't think it's exaggerating to say that we are in danger of losing that “milk of human kindness.”

Partly,  this is due to the greater use of technology…I mean, you can order your takeout food, your groceries, prescriptions, practically anything you need…delivered to your door step without having to interact with any other person.  As a person with introvert inclinations, I totally love this about technology; however, as a person, as a human being, I also recognize that this is not healthy.  That this is, in fact, dangerous.  Because it can start to change how you view other people and the worth you place on another human being…and once you can start considering someone not needed, not important…worth less or devalued…it changes how you treat them.  And it also changes what you will tolerate.  We don't have to look too far back in our history books to see what happens after that.

Okay, so that went to a bit darker place than I was intending, but I think we can all acknowledge that this happens…is happening…all around us.  (Also I have once again proved my point about becoming my Grandmother…she was a teacher and could turn anything into a history lesson.  Oops!)

Back to my original point…as you consider the New Year and whatever changes or improvements you hope to realize, maybe just take a minute to consider whether there is anything you shouldn't change.  Maybe there's a tradition you keep up every Christmas…for example, my sister Hannah still sends out Christmas cards.  Handwritten.  In the mail.  (Sometimes to the wrong address and you don't receive it for eighteen months, but nevertheless, it`s nice when you finally get it, because you know she thought of you specifically.)  Or maybe there's something you do in person, even though it's not necessary…like meeting friends to play a board game which you could technically play online.  It could even be the simplest of things, like waving to the neighbourhood kids when they get off the school bus. 

Whatever it is, no matter how insignificant seeming, hold on to those old-fashioned gestures.  They are what keep us human…they are what make you who you are...and they are what keep the lantern lights of kindness shining. 

Thanks for reading my rambling thoughts and Happy New Year to Everyone!

Sincerely, 

Sarah

Holding the Lantern

 I have a fond memory from childhood of holding the lantern for my sister as she took her turn in the outhouse, while my other sister stood shivering beside me in the dark just outside the curtain that was hung as the door. 

We howled like wolves to amuse ourselves and reported, in whispered glee, sightings of ”eyes in the woods.” I assure you that by the time we each “had a turn” and were treading the short path through the snow to the cabin, no one wanted to be last! And no one wanted to be left in the dark! 

We were brave as lions by day but at night in the dark woods of the Canadian wilderness, we ran together, tripping over each other’s boots in the dark, bursting through the cabin’s solid door and slamming it behind us as we giggled at our own nervousness and jumped into our bunks. 

I was blessed with the gift of two sisters and lucky to be in the middle, somehow the least responsible position, (in my case) but also the position of confidence and fierce protectiveness. I was blessed to grow up with them and lucky to still have them in my life. 

Collectively we have endured many hard times, much loss, and some impossible situations. (All will be revealed eventually.) 

Individually we have run up quite the lists as well. 

Sometimes we have asked if we were cursed…but no, we choose to believe we are blessed with the amazing women we grew up beside.

Women to stand beside. 

Women to go to war together. 

Women to cry with - and for!  

And to fall on our knees and pray over. 

Women who aren’t afraid of the dark anymore and will walk into it and call out a challenge.  

Women who laugh a lot! And make each other laugh 

It is a gift
to know that if I am alone in the dark someone is out with lanterns looking for me. 

Over the years we’ve added to our tribe and forged friendships in the fires and floods of life. We have found people in the dark and showed up with encouragement, hope…coffee. 

This is our mission, our calling perhaps: to bring a brave light into the dark and never flinch. 

We hope to find sisters we haven’t met and brothers we haven’t claimed, to share light or to ignite hope… and also to be encouraged by you! 

Whether you have strong siblings to bless you, are an only child, or have a family that is somehow undone right now, we open a place in our circle—a place to share strength, a clan where respecting and admiring one another’s gifts and differences is “a thing.”  

Where there’s safety and a song or a hug waiting. 

Where there’s someone to hold the lantern while you find your way home.

Stars and Whales & Me

                                                     STARS AND WHALES &Me

  They say the stars are singing; sending sound into a void where they cannot be heard. If we could listen though, the sound waves suggest the ringing of great bells with deep voices for some and others ringing like high-toned crystal!

Imagine that!

They say the great whales sing to one another in passing as they travel the seas. We do have proof of this. There are recordings full of peace and connection... and wonder!

They also say that the whales are changing up their songs, one note at a time. Whether this is to pass on information, for mating, or "just because" is unclear!

That's so cool! 

I could go on about the cool things in nature, wolf song and loon laughter and bees and river voices...all amazing!

What is your song?

I've been thinking about the song of my life, especially coming into the new year knowing that some notes need to change.   (Oh Whales, you inspire me.)

Whether your song is as unheard as the stars, a temple bell of quiet worship, or a voice from beneath deep waters communicating peace, may you have the courage to sing in the dark.

Courage to change.

Courage to shine!

 Susie