A First World Story of God's Grace

 When we came back from our holiday on the Island in early July, Sweet Girl and I noticed that her favourite stuffie Bunny really needed to be cleaned. Easier said than done. Nearly three weeks have passed and remembering and timing (must be clean and dry before nap or bedtime!) keep interrupting this plan.

This morning after I'd just set up the kids for breakfast and was about to get my own, Sweet Girl and I both remembered that Bunny needed to be cleaned. Timing was perfect (hours before nap time!)  so stripped Sweet Girl's bedding which also needed to be cleaned, grabbed Bunny, and went downstairs to our laundry room. One step into the room and I was standing in an half an inch of water.

The rec room, adjacent to the laundry room, also had half an inch of water.

Panic. PANIC!!

Where was the water coming from?!!

"Blaine, help! I need you in the basement!"

I immediately walked through the flooding rec room to our guest room closet where the whole house water shut off is located and tried to figure out if I'm supposed to be doing lefty-loosey or righty-tighty on this knob. I stood in about an inch of water and could hear more gushing out from the bathroom as Blaine came downstairs. I finally got the main house water off (felt like an hour, was probably 20 seconds) and we figured out that the connector underneath the bathroom sink failed and was the cause of the gushing water.

Water spread: about an inch in the bathroom, half the utility room, 3/4 of the rec room, 3/4 of the guest room, 3/4 of the laundry room.

About three hours later (and a lot more screen time than our kids have had all week!) Blaine and I had removed as much of the water as we could from the floor. 

By the grace of God:

1. We were home. I estimate that the water was probably not flowing freely from the pipe for more than about 10-15 minutes.
2. The failed pipe was in the basement and not the second floor. No wall or ceiling issues.
3. Bunny was dirty. If I had not decided to wash Bunny this morning, it is possible that no one in the family would have gone downstairs for another hour on this slow summer morning where we had no where to be.
4. Our renos were not done. When we were on the Island in late June/early July, I expressed my frustration to Blaine at the speed that our renovations were (not) progressing. In my mind, I had a plan and I wanted to take action or see action. Our friend that is helping us with the renos was unexpectedly caught up in some other work and ended up being delayed. We did not start when we thought we were going to. I was getting anxious about it not getting done before September.
   
   I'm nearly crying as I type this this next part. ** What was on the floor that we were scooping up water from? Next to NOTHING. Why? Because we're doing renos in the basement. All the water was on CEMENT FLOOR. The bathroom and laundry room have old vinyl flooring that was intended to replaced in due time.
   
   Had the renos started "on (my) time", we would have had thousands of dollars or damage: freshly laid laminate flooring, baseboards, etc.

It could have been so much worse.

So. Much. Worse.

Yes, some of my scrapbooking papers and some older books that I had in boxes got wet, but nothing that is irreplaceable. Nothing that will cause thousands of dollars and endless phone calls to the insurance company.

It could have been so much worse.

But the damage was minimal, by the grace of God.

The End of a Chapter

My sweet little Bugaboo,

It's been five days since we last sat on the couch and share a snuggly time of "muk" (as you call it). I've been nourishing and growing you or your brothers and sister for nearly nine years. Nine years of being either pregnant or breastfeeding. It's the end of a chapter of my life. It is bittersweet.

I love to watch you grow, but some days it feels like you're growing so fast and you're not a baby anymore. So much personality, lots of words, and joining in with the big kids in the house. My sweet boy, don't get big too fast.

Love, Mommy

Humility Expressed, Grace Extended

A couple of weeks ago, excited after visiting the public library, Sweet Girl flipped open a DVD case and pulled out the disc... a bit too roughly. It broke. My heart sank. I was disappointed that she opened it minutes after I told her she could look at the case but not open it. I wondered how much the library was going to charge us to replace it. I hemmed and hawed over what to do: deal with it myself or have Sweet Girl be part of the process. Sweet Girl and I had a chat about obeying Mommy, taking care of other people's things, and then a chat about admitting when you did something wrong.

Today we were back at the library. I told Sweet Girl that she would be returning the broken DVD and letting the librarian know that she broke the DVD. There stood my Sweet Girl, looking at the librarian with her eyes barely above the counter top and in a small voice Sweet Girl said, "I'm sorry I broke this video by mistake." The librarian responded calmly and kindly, "Thank you for telling me. These things happen sometimes." She scanned the case and said she would just remove it from circulation. She didn't say we owed anything. I told Sweet Girl that I was proud of her for telling the librarian, even if it was difficult to do. I'm glad I had her be part of the process and am appreciative that the librarian was so gracious.

From farm to table

I hardly consider us a homesteading family but I did grow up with a veggie garden and fruit trees in my backyard, managed by my green thumb parents. One year when we had zucchinis the size of baseball bats and so many tomatoes that we were picking them by the bucketful each day. So it seemed natural that I would try my hand at growing food once I had my own yard.

Last year, our first year in this house, Bugaboo was about a month old when I saw a poster at the school where we attend StrongStart. It invited families with young children to join a pilot program where you would receive soil and seeds and assistance to grow your own starter veggie garden. The supplies were provided through a community grant and you were encouraged to plant yard garden in your front yard, to cultivate a sense of community in your neighbourhood. Our city also holds a front yard garden contest each year.

It seemed like a no-brainer to give gardening a go. At this point our backyard was full of overgrown, half-dead evergreen trees and weedy-mossy grass. Our front yard had several large bushes and some weedy grass. With low expectations but much anticipation, we joined the project. The kids and I had a fantastic time digging our first garden and enjoying the small harvest of peas, lettuce, and cucumbers. Our yield was small partly because our garden was small and partly because our backyard is quite shady. Veggies need sun.

This year I decided to take the plunge and plant a big front yard garden. We started with digging out an evergreen bush and some other leafy bush. I felt bad about this. These were two healthy plants but they did nothing for me visually or nutritionally for that matter. The results have been fantastically exciting. The garden has overrun our front yard (particularly the pumpkin plant which has "Jumanji-ed" out of control. The kids (yes, even Bugaboo) love picking the ripe veggies and learning about each of the plants we have growing.

And interestingly, the garden is frequently a conversation starter with neighbours. We live on a street with quite a few older couples and empty-nesters and many love to have a chat about the garden. Some simply love to poke around and see how things are growing and others ask questions. One neighbour lady (name I forget -- oops, sorry) came by one day and wanted to talk about my methods (umm... wing it and hope for the best!) and another neighbour lady came and gave me some plastic for covering tomatoes (she saw that I was using a ghetto piece of plastic) and red reflective tomato plastic.

Because some crops have been quite successful, it has been fun to bless others with fresh veggies too!

I hardly think we'll be living off the land, but it sure has a great experience for our family to grow food!

Keeping my Cool

Admittedly, I am not one to keep my feelings to myself or to refrain from saying something that I feel strongly about. I also have an associated fault of speaking before thinking. However, God has recently been teaching me about the wisdom of listening and the strength of the tongue (while speaking and not speaking). I was a door slamming teenager and, as an adult, occasionally find myself pushed to the limit of overwhelming emotion... particularly when it relates to my kids. Yes, it was me that yelled "Someone's gonna get hurt ref!!" at Pookie's hockey game when, on two different occasions, one of the kids on the opposing team dove head first at Pookie's knee-level in an attempt to stop my son from carrying the puck up the ice.

After doing a much-needed grocery shopping trip this morning, I set off on a leisurely walk with Sweet Girl and Bugaboo. No particular destination -- Sweet Girl on her tricycle and Bugaboo in the stroller. At Sweet Girl's request, we ended up at a small public playground not too far from our house. Since Bugaboo is walking more now and because there was no one else on the playground, I let him walk and crawl around on the equipment. He really enjoyed going back and forth through the little tunnel and peeking out at me.

Not even ten minutes after we arrived, two women with eight kids (around age 3-4) showed up. I assumed were from the nearby daycare. I immediately debated leaving or putting Bugaboo back into the stroller so he wouldn't be run over by the bigger kids. But Sweet Girl was happily climbing and sliding and Bugaboo was having so much fun and I could be within arms reach of him.

About five minutes later, I guess one of the other kids got impatient about a baby blocking the end tunnel, and he tried to squeeze past Bugaboo. As a result, he pushed Bugaboo head first onto the metal platform outside the tunnel. It's about a 8" drop. Bugaboo screamed and I jumped onto the short slide connected to the platform and scooped him up for a hug. Then I sat down with him at the edge of play space to try to settle him. I overhead one of the adults tell the boy (who pushed Bugaboo) that if he wasn't nice he wasn't going to be allowed to play on the playground. (Umm... hello? How about removing him right now?)

I was FUMING MAD !!! and had to muster up every ounce of self-control not to blow a gasket at the women. My baby just got hurt! Umm... even if the kid in their care didn't mean to hurt Bugaboo, there was no apology?? From the boy or the adults?? No one coming to see if my baby is okay?? Letting the kid continue playing on the playground??

By this point, Sweet Girl came to see why her brother was crying and she was sitting next to me trying to hold his hand. Still nothing from the two women; they were acting as if nothing had happened and I wasn't holding a baby that was crying because one of their kids caused an injury. Do I say something? Do I just leave? Speak? Hold my tongue? 

I decided I had to leave or I was going to lose my cool and this big confrontation was going to take place in front of all these kids. Immediately, I told Sweet Girl it was time to go. She was not happy about this, but I managed to convince her to get on her tricycle and head home. Bugaboo wanted to be held and not put into the stroller so this was challenging. Somehow we left the playground but it wasn't until we were a nearly home that I realized how bad the bruise was on Bugaboo's forehead :(. AUGH! This nasty blue bump on his forehead! Now I'm thinking I should have said something. I decided that I need to go back and talk to the women.

We're almost home but Sweet Girl is tired of riding her tricycle. I finally am able to put Bugaboo back in the stroller (where's my Ergo when I need it?!) and so I'm pushing the stroller with one hand and pulling Sweet Girl in the tricycle with the other hand. I must have looked distraught or frantic because our young neighbour (grade 11 and on lunch break and delivering newspapers) called out from across the street and asked if I needed any help. "We're okay, thanks for asking though..."

We got home and I put the kids in the van. Sweet Girl is confused, but going along with this; Bugaboo is upset still, but I manage to put his seat belt on. Do I get an ice pack first? Will he let me put it on his head? We drove back to the park. In the distance I could see the women and the kids walking back to the daycare facility. We got out of the van and I take a deep breath. In the most polite and calm voice I can find within me, I called out to the women and asked if I can speak to them. One of them asked if I could wait until they brought the kids inside. Oh my, it was difficult to stand there waiting. The one woman came back out with (whom I presumed was) a supervisor.

And then, despite my raging anger and frustration, we proceeded to have a very calm discussion about what happened. I expressed how I was frustrated by how the whole incident was handled and how no one seemed to care that my baby got hurt by one of their kids. The woman said she apologized when I was on the slide holding Bugaboo, but since I said nothing she assumed I didn't want to acknowledge her and didn't approach me when I brought Bugaboo to the side of the playground. I was so concerned about Bugaboo at that time that I guess I didn't hear this apology. The woman said she talked to the boy about the incident but he felt so badly about it that he didn't want to apologize. The supervisor reiterated their discipline policy and how they preempt every park visit by reminding the kids about sharing the playground equipment. There was more, but basically it was resolved and I kept my cool. It was so difficult not to go all Mama Bear in the moment.

When we got home after, I could hear Sweet Girl talking to one of her stuffies about what happened. Since she was there when Bugaboo got hurt and there when I was talking to the woman, it was humbling to hear her reflection on what happened. I was reminded of how much my kids watch and learn their behaviour from my behaviour and I'm thankful that I was able to demonstrate positive conflict resolution today.

(Okay, there is terrible grammar and random tense usage in this post. My English teachers would probably be embarrassed for me.)

Dear Dad

Another year goes by and you are not here, yet you are ever-present. More often than ever, my kids want to know more about you and hear stories with you in them.

What was Gong Gong's favourite colour?  
Blue.

(We're in the middle of building a garden in our yard.)
Did Gong Gong like to do gardening?
Yes, he loved to grow flowers and fruit and vegetables. I remember when he and PohPoh grew so many vegetables that they were always giving them away.

(After a discussion about hobbies)  
He really loved taking photos, especially when he was younger.
What do you think Gong Gong's favourite picture was?
I don't know. I wish you could ask him. If I had to guess, it might be a black and white photo he took of train tracks taking different paths. Or maybe this one of a whale jumping.

Did Daddy know Gong Gong?
Yes! Gong Gong knew Daddy before Mommy knew Daddy! Gong Gong would fix and take care of a lot of things at the school where Daddy worked.

(Sprout recently learned how to play chess.)
Does Grammy know how to play chess?
No, I don't think so.
Does PohPoh know how to play chess?
No, but Gong Gong did. He really liked to play chess and taught Mommy how to play.

(Sweet Girl)
Mommy, Gong Gong got sick, right?
Yes.
Did he have some medicine?
Yes.
Why didn't the medicine make him better?
For a little while it made him better, but he was very sick.
Mommy, it's sad that Gong Gong died.
Yes, it's very sad.

And so you've become part of our every day lives, Dad. Though it is sometimes difficult to think about how you are not here to be a Gong Gong to my kids, I'm so glad to be able to share you with them whenever I can.

Love,
Elaine

WCM Indulgence

Drink: Tall White Chocolate Mocha, non-fat, half-sweet, no whip
Location consumed: Mom's house
Rating: 10 out of 10. Indulgences are few and far between, but sooo tasty.

An Angel Among Us

I first met Shiloh when she was in grade 8 and had the wonderful privilege of being one of her youth leaders at our church. When you become a youth leader, it's like taking on an extended family and she became "mine" to care for. One of my first memories with her was going river kayaking at fall camp. At the start she nervous about this adventure, but once we got going she quickly embraced it and it was a memorable. She was an overcomer and took on life's challenges head on. And not only did she take them head on, she did so with joy.

Many years later we were both involved in the drama ministry at our church. She was a passionate and talented actress and it was fantastic to work under her direction and also be on stage with her. Putting on a show at our church required countless hours of volunteer work. Shiloh was not afraid of work hard and was eager to paint and design sets, run lines will people, set tables for the dessert, fold programs... she was happily willing to do anything that was needed to make our show fantastic.

A couple of years ago Shiloh went to India on a missions trip with a couple of close girlfriends. She wanted to put together a book to hand out to the kids that they met along the way. Being an artist, she chose to illustrate the book herself and have the Jesus message translated into the local language. I remember having a discussion with her about what essentials should be included in the book to make it meaningful for kids. She took sharing the gospel seriously and wanted to share her joy and love for God with the children of India.

More recently Shiloh noticed a need in our church; we were lacking a youth leader and so she stepped up to the plate and loved, encouraged, and taught the youth in our church. She seemed to have endless amounts of love and patience. She was accepting of everyone.

I also was able to serve on the missions committee with her over the past year or so. Whether we discussed hosting Easter egg hunts at our church, supporting missionaries, or loving the homeless in our community, her enthusiasm to impact people's lives was contagious.

A week ago, at the tender age of 22 years old, Shiloh was a pedestrian hit by a car. I first saw mention of the accident on Facebook, but it wasn't until the morning after that I learned that the accident took the life of an angel among us. As the days have gone by, it seems surreal that such a beautiful young woman would be taken from this world. But her light lives on and she will be remembered.