Country Roads Lead Me Home

Walking down this country road, seven sunsets ago I stared up at the vault of Heaven.  My heart streamed out feelings I can't put into words to God, staring at His handiwork in the sky. I didn't even know how to pray, my heart was so heavy thinking of an Auntie whose heart is beating softer, coming to a place where she will soon meet Jesus face to face.

I also knew that within hours I would be bringing another life into this world. A wee little girl who would feel the wind on her cheeks and the sun on her skin for the first time.

I was overwhelmed with the fact how I'm not in control. What was to happen in the next few days, weeks, months-my whole life-it's out of my hands. I can look up at that big lid of blue and remember that someone who loves me is in charge of it all. That our lives here are temporary and my children aren't my own.  I can rest in that, take comfort in that, and know that the little soul that has come into this world will rest in the palm of His hand and that His voice is already speaking to her spirit. I can pray that my Aunt will feel the comfort of her God rocking her to sleep tonight and that she too will rest in the same hand. A hand of eternal love.

He is the one in control when we come into this world and when we take our last breath on Earth. I am grateful for a personal faith. A faith that I'm always reminded of when I walk down that dusty path, that will lead me home.

To Quiet the Storm

I feel like life dumped a big ol bag of marbles out in front of me and gave me a push to start running. I've been running and running, getting no where. Some days I feel like I can hardly take a breath or even see where I'm trying to get to. There are the moments where I'm bankrupt of any emotions; I feel simply drained.

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We've had some heart achy things grasp hold of us in life; we've had surprises and challenges. There have been moments of overwhelming hilarity and happiness. This season for us is just full.

When I lay down my heart pounds in my ears and I beg for a moment of calm.  I expect too much of people-to fill my heart up with that happy feeling. I exhaust myself even more trying to fit that patience into my day, like it's an awkward piece of a puzzle that wasn't cut right.

Last night my husband was out pulling a calf, my girl was asleep in bed and I had a moment. That Moment rained down on me. It's when I realized that we don't need to chase that quietness, we just have to simply Be Still. It's right there.

Jesus drops stuff in our laps all day long and we don't have to chase it like a wild animal.

There is sweet encouragement in the kindness of strangers. 

There is tranquility in the sunset.

Laughter of a child is balm for any soul.

When I am still I'm overcome with gratitude for all these simple things. Oh, we all talk about the simple things, the simple life, but yes and amen, they are actually there. We just have to quiet the noise of life down and there they are.

If you just stop and take that breath, it's all right there, you don't have to find it. It's right there.

Hoping that in quietness you will find your strength today.

Muck Boots

Ladies, let's talk boots.

I bet you're enthused, sitting there with your cup of coffee, thinking I'm going to chat fashion with you. You're thinking about those Frye boots or a nice pair of Lucheese that you've been wanting.

I'm here to tell you about a whole new realm in fashion.

Hollywood here thinks she would like to chat about boots. Do you see the reflection of white in her sun goggles? The fact that the goggles were busted out is proof that that white won't last too much longer.

Kids from the prairies are part mud.  You probably didn't grow up here if you haven't had your gum boot fall off , trudging through that ooze, and  kept on going in your sock feet because your feet  were so cold in springtime weather.

We still have feet of snow on the ground, but it won't be long 'till we are swimming in sludge. A big ol' nasty, mire of nothing but pure dirty, that makes a grown man grin as he digs trenches in the lane. That huge ball of fire in the sky is packing heat on some of these afternoons and my little girl has discovered the joy of puddles. Trucks are filthy, the farmers in the coffee shop are grinning, and gophers are running around on top of the snow. We are busting out the Muck boots.

I mentioned Muck boots in a previous post and I received an email from a lady thinking it was funny that us Albertan's call our gum boots Muck boots. Girls, we don't just call em Muck boots-they are an actual brand of insulated rubber boots here that are meant to keep your feet warm and dry all year long. They are a thing of beauty.  Pair them with a dirty ol' Carhartt coat and you're Redneck stylin'. I love these bad boys so much that I'm writing a whole post on these blessed chore boots.

Back in the day there weren't such luxuries as these treasures. Ranchers would wade out in the sludge to check calves and come in with stained socks much to their wive's dismay. I'm sure no one really minded that much; you're just thrilled Spring arrived here.

One of my favorite famed 'muddy' stories in the family took place right where my folks live now. It was my Great Grandpa's place many moons ago, the legendary hero we all called Pappa. Years ago, when Charolais bulls were relatively new to Canada, these big beasts got out and were heading to get in with the heifers. My dad was out with Pappa in the barnyard soup when Pappa started hollering to beat the band at my Uncle, at the top of the pasture, to cut the bulls off. With all the bellowing Pappa's teeth flew out of his mouth and landed right in the slop and manure. Losing his teeth paused the hollering, but Pappa just gave those teeth a quick wipe, popped them back in his mouth and commenced whooping. Only in Alberta- we don't let the mud and manure get in the way!

It's Really Coming? When?

March came in with a mighty roar and left like a hormonal lioness, leaving her six inch paw prints in the snowdrifts. She twitched her tail and had a little sauce in her step.

I stuck my tongue out at her as she departed.

Like I mentioned, we hunkered down and battled our way through the winter. It's all warm and cozy until Christmas is over and January greets our unsheltered prairies with a cold hand shake and a snarl on her wind whipped face. March came along and we all breathed a little, hoping to see some sunshine.

It was a trick ya'll.

March madness, St. Patty's Day, the first day of Spring-nothing could really lift our spirits. We were left desolate and bleak, much like our landscape. I think it snowed everyday since the first day of Spring, without a break for a splash of sunshine.

My Canadian spirit of happily embracing the cold and getting excited over curling and hockey was rapidly diminishing. We bring entertainment indoors in Winter, but I was ready to boot this party outside.

Oh yes, it's a gala inside the house in the winter. Us Albertans, we install swings inside the house!

Who needs Disneyland? Take me to Oma Helga's!

We sit by the window and watch the tractors. You question why we don't have TV? You thought it was because we lived in the boondocks?

Tractor? Cows? Tractor? Moo?

We bring the run bike inside, folks. It's Kid's Day in Russia!

My poor kid isn't allowed to have a tricyle. She has a run bike, no pedals, ladies. Helps with balance (again, insert eye roll here.) Good thing she just learned to walk.

We sew and make so much stuff that the mounties are looking in the basement to see if we have a small sweat shop.

If you need some western baby stuff, send me a message!

We eat, we read, we get plumper-and we wait.

I LOVED this last book. Go read it. I might have to do a post dedicated to this book.

Some of us try to run away, even the hound, but when you're born on the prairies, you just really can't get away. They become a part of you.

Photos one, two and this last one were taken by good ol Jenny Keet. Picture taking extraordinaire and a girl with really nice feet. 

The minute you think you're going to crack and think you see snow falling INSIDE the house (which it will drift inside the door in the entrance) you suspect you heard the weatherman muttered something about plus temperatures. Hoping the man hasn't lost his marbles through Winter and hasn't been drinking, you get your hopes up.

That's what Spring is all about anyway, isn't it? Being reminded of hope and remaining hopeful.

I hope Mother Nature remembers to be hopeful and whistles a little zip a dee doo da here in Alberta. I'm sure she'll do just fine as long as she's not hormonal like that young lioness...unless of course she's menopausal and is trying to battler her hot flashes with these cool temperatures. Sheesh!

Spring has Sprung

Friends, you must forgive my absence. I have been digging my way out of the snow to try and find a computer. 

Ya'll, it's the first day of Spring and this photo was taken today. Alberta is boasting piles of snow coming down. The temperature isn't -40 degrees Celsius, so it does feel balmy outside and we almost put on our flip flops.

I wanted to capture some photos for you, dear readers, but the fact of the matter is, the horizon runs together with our snow covered prairies making the photo of nothing but blind your eyeballs white.

Oh, I promise the crocuses will pop through, the gophers will start a runnin, and the calves are already making an appearance. 

Once I've rattled this brain around to try and get it working after my long winter's nap, I'll be back to tell you folks about what we did to survive this winter. Yes, survive-we held onto deep freeze temperatures week after week and blizzard upon blizzard reigned down. 

We saw eight foot snow drifts, ladies and gentlemen, and my daughter doesn't ask to go 'outside' she asks to go out to the 'cold.'

January I hid in the house for seventeen days straight, visited the neighbours, and hunkered down again. I'm not kidding when I say I need to get this brain a rollin' again! 

Don't fear, the Muck boots are out, the stroller is ready to walk this lane and I'll let you in on a few secrets this prairie momma has up her sleeve. 

I've missed you all, oh so much, and am looking forward to our springtime reunion. Can someone bring a space heater?

Boxing Day

This kiddo was laughing her guts out. This is not a look of shock, nor a yawn, this is a pure belly laugh.

Recently a friend from the US asked about our Boxing Day. It made me think how far our culture has come from what Boxing Day was originally intended for. On December 26th commonwealth countries have Boxing Day marked on their calendars. Way back in the day, Alms Boxes (boxes for the poor) were placed on church doorsteps for people to put money in. It was a day that was marked as giving to the poor. Now it's turned into a similar day to the American Black Friday (or what I know of it.) People wake up at crazy hours, some at 3AM, to drive to the city to stand in line to wait for stores to open and get smokin deals on all sorts of things. We've never done anything like this, probably not just because of the insane amounts of people, but we were all laying around in our pajamas eating turkey buns.

Really I don't think we need a day marked on those little square boxes to remind us to think of those less fortunate than us. I believe it should be something imprinted on our hearts all year long, and something that is just a natural extension of who we are. Nothing to be shown off or consciously thought of, but it should be as customary as getting your breakfast in the morning.

This year was a beautiful day as a Chinook had blown in right before Christmas and to accompany our white landscape there were impressive warm temperatures. A pink Carhartt coat, yellow snowpants from when I was a kid, and a poor old Oiler's toque (the only one we could find) was tossed on and sleigh rides around the yard ensued. Who needs mittens? Kitty socks on the hands work just fine. A lucky little girl, who promptly could call the horse after she said Momma, got to go for a lil ride and sat up their like a big girl, clicking her tongue and laughing. What a day it was!

 What did you all do the day after Christmas? Was it time to put the tree away and clean the house? Were you still at gatherings? I'd love to know.

*UPDATE* Another Canadian blogging friend made a wise comment about Boxing Day being the day post Christmas when servants got the day off. I looked it up and that is another part of Boxing Day--according to the article I read, people would send home with the servants, boxes of gifts, bonuses or food to go with them to visit their families. Again according to this article, it stated about Alms Boxes left on Church doorsteps. Who really knows...?

Breathe In, Breathe Out-It's Christmas

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By the time I actually get this post finished, Winter solstice will have past, and us Albertan's will have experienced one short day. I poked my head outside for the few minutes of sunshine we had, and then raced back in to continue wrapping gifts...no, I raced back into grab the last gingersnap.

Really, that is neither here nor there; let's get down to business. If I'm truly finished writing this by the 23rd, that leaves us two days till Christmas. Count 'em- T-W-O. How are you feeling about this? Are you pacing and hyperventilating? Do you feel like you're on a runaway treadmill and can't find the off switch? Maybe you are sitting in your green chair with your feet up laughing at all the people making their last minute trips to town to buy more gifts - gomers. Your gifts have been wrapped for weeks, months maybe, packed away in alphabetical order, beside your freezer full of Christmas baking.

You didn't really want to hear about those green chair folks anyway, did you? They are the gomers after all?!?! Right...

Back to business. I am not the latter type, a super organized person with Christmas powers in my hands to have everything all in perfect shape. Yet, I can assure you that I'm not the former either. There is no wildness in this house, okay, not about Christmas anyway. Honestly, dear readers, I've said it a few times this week, Christmas comes and Christmas goes. What get's done, get's done, and what doesn't, doesn't. No one's going to be angry that there aren't gingersnaps on the table - except maybe your diabetic Uncle, but does he really need an extra four pounds of gingersnaps anyway? Do you really think your four year old will notice that his gift is wrapped in Loonie Store paper and looks kind of like he wrapped it himself, instead of with natural packing paper, hand stamped with homemade ribbon that took you four months to make? Nah. Your child will be in wonder with the twinkly lights on the tree, and mercy, if a tree didn't get put up, they will be enthused that  you are enthused about the day. They will remember everyone was happy and excited, they will remember Daddy reading Luke 2, they will remember you teaching them to take baking to the neighbours and to remember to pray for those that don't have a Christmas meal that day. Let's not teach our kid's to be stressed, to be wild over preparation for an event that we've marked on the calendar and keep thinking, "EGADS, FOUR MORE DAYS LEFT, I HAVEN'T BAKED THE NINETIETH BATCH OF SUGAR COOKIES!"

 "Johnny, go play, your Mommy will come up for air in twenty hours after she has scrubbed the walls for company coming, repainted the living room, cooked the hardest candy to make ever, all for Christmas, Johnny, all for Christmas!"

Slow down. Again, it will come and it will go. We'll all be a little fatter afterward, and hopefully we won't all be burnt right out, we'll have remembered what Christmas is truly all about.