Damaged In the Storms

We are often warned of impending storms along the Atlantic Costal areas of North America. It is one of those zones where weather can quickly gather itself into a real northeaster and blow the stuffing out of any area in its path. In my youth I saw pictures of the effects of hurricanes that wrought their devastation on coastal communities in Shelburne County and other parts of Nova Scotia. It is fascinating for sure to watch the coming clouds and a bit scary feel the fast changes in atmospheric pressure caused by the moving weather fronts. In our area people rush to the shorelines to watch the wave action turn from gentle swells to crashing surges of destruction as the power of the storm alters both geological and geographical markers. And then there are those who just venture too close and are injured or killed, not realizing the ferocity of nature at its worst.

I would like to think that we would all remain safe and out of harm’s way, during the storms. Of course, not all storms are due to atmospheric upheaval. There are those little things that just happen in life and are due to either circumstance beyond our control or on the other hand, are out of lack or watchfulness or just plain stupidity. Can you imagine the truth of some of the commercials we watch on TV these days? Insurance ads are sometimes the most curious, alarming and in the deepest sense of dark truth, funny to say the least. Picture; a man walks towards his car to go to work and a huge overhanging limb from a nearby tree drops directly on the vehicle and crushes it completely…. Scan over and upward… we see a man who has just cut the limb with a bow-saw, looking very stupid. Makes you glad you have insurance those days. Of course insurance companies and assurance companies bank on our fear of the unknown and what might happen to fleece us, while covering their cost of expenses  to cover payouts for  someone else’s mishaps. Ah the joy of the insurance schemes afoot in our society. But that is another digression… it happens a lot lately. Note to self… keep your eye on the ball. Ha!

It doesn’t take long as the storms arrive, for us to get the first news of real damages; the heartache of flooding, evacuations, loss of real-estate, and the cost of repairs and rebuilding mount to astronomical figures. For those in the midst of the trauma the reality is theirs, they lay claim to the disaster because for them it is now life, being lived, whether they wanted it this way or not. Physical disasters come in all forms, not just in high winds and torrential rains. The mental and physiological pain of storms in life can take its toll too!

Pan left or right…. Look up from the focus on trying to live with your own moments and see what is around you. It can be both enlightening and upsetting, but it is due to other storms that we have little or no control over in life. Each Sunday we have a time to mention the names of loved ones or acquaintances who we feel need prayer in their lives. In one small country Church family the number of names is outstanding… and then there are those in our midst… the hurting ones who are the victims of their own storms where wind and rain have no blame… it is the thing of life… the everyday news of someone else who health problems and may be facing the worst. Every day, perhaps because I am who I am people speak of their struggles and look to me for both consolation and more to the point prayer. The interesting part of all this is that they may not be people of prayer themselves, but they recognize that here is someone who must be connected and maybe, just maybe, they can connect on their behalf, for needs not faced and voiced in panic and fear. It can be an awesome responsibility and yet that is part of our response to storms… to be doers and not just hearers.

I guess not all storms are huge, like my friend ( we will call her Nellie) who has heard that she has bone cancer or the myriad of people who suddenly find themselves alone as their loved ones are snatched form their midst in death. Some are just the everyday garden variety of arthritic joints, the gastro reflux which has become so popular as we eat more, exercise less and go off the limits of good diets… maybe it is perhaps just, I don’t know… more chemicals in our foods that are causing upset tummies. Ah shoot… I am digressing… pinch me will you! We all suffer the small stuff in life. It may seem like a big thing while it is happening, but for the most part survival is not in question… it may just seem that way. For us here in the local household it has been a scary moment with a medical test and a recall for a closer analysis, a step into a deep hole that twisted an ankle and knee on the same leg, putting me in misery for over a month just trying to stand up, much less sleep at night. Oh by the way… all this at the same time… strange eh!... and the needs of others still remained constant… and the calls came in.

The doctors said; “All clear” for the medical and our hearts beat a little slower as calm swept in once more. Another said; “well if you were able to get up and walk and not feel the greatest extent of the pain for a week then the damage was minor… as in no broken bones, just stretched ligaments and muscles and that will heal eventually.” Again a deep sigh of relief. But the pain remains. It is part of the collateral damages that come with storms. Our hearts may ache due to the twinges of guilt for not having more faith; after all why do we get scared and upset when storms come? Can God not keep us through the storms of life? Lingering pain from injury can be damaging too, as we wonder why the miraculous does not seem to be a contemporary element which could immediately change the course of life daily. It seems that we echo the sentiments of those in Jesus’ time who cried; “Show us a sign Lord!” While there may be some argument today over the absence or presence of miracles, I am a firm believer that God is still that whom He has always been, a God of love, justice and creation (which of course includes His watchful care over that creation).

So today if you are suffering storm damages, you need not buy more insurance … just consider a bit more assurance. We are not alone, even when we feel we are. That is human nature at work and there is no need for guilt, otherwise our Savour’s agony in the garden is for not. When facing the storms, we go through the myriad of emotions and there is no way around it… we forge ahead and try to keep our hearts and heads intact. Look up today, if you are not one of the damaged… or even if you are. Who around you is one of the damaged ones, who may need a bit of your touch, the Master’s touch through you? Take a moment and walk even closer to the edge… it may surprise you what you will find there… a peace that the world knows not… it may be that you might need a new perspective while standing there. Blessed today I pray and take a moment to bless others.

Things Undecided!

Wouldn't it be great to look into each day, as the morning breaks, without a care or a worry. Just to see before us the expanse of potential that will both enliven and excite us as we wend the course of old trails less trod and new ones yet to become an adventure. There is little of that I fear, in this day and age. I do have friends, perhaps more than I know of, who take the time to go on daily walk-about and both taste the goodness of life surrounding them and record the moments to be enjoyed later on, or for others, who are the seekers and watchers from afar.

It would seem in this busy life that many more are watching the timelines, trying to catch the moments in a more scheduled style as they meet personal deadlines, get themselves and even more-so the children, off to school, to daycare centers and then after school programs, as they strive after the elusive all round lifestyle and foundation for themselves and their children's futures. We hear chanted the latest and greatest of products that will expand our time away from cleaning kitchens and households, to healthcare products now so greatly improved that the old products seem dim in comparison. We are being told from every side that we can improve life, expand horizons and even reduce our debt loads by buying more now by borrowing against our futures. I sometimes watch it all go by and wonder who we have become and how we have fallen so enamored with the newest, latest and greatest, while leaving behind the old faithfuls, the tried and true means by which generations have survived. I heard a person in a conversation echoing much frustration and fatigue with life expounding on technology at all levels of personal and home use... "They come out with a new product and tomorrow it is old technology... there is no keeping up with it all!" And everyone has bought into the game... well, I should not be too inclusive... "some" have not!

The time when life was a more carefree style of living is past. Oh, but wait a moment. Was it ever? My grandparents lived a hard life with minimal existence through the tough years of the depression. Jobs were hard to find, food was sought from the land and health, warmth and security were sometimes another elusive pursuit. Gosh, maybe we have just changed standards and experiences. Could it be that every generation has challenges that they must face and doing so are put under stresses that must be dealt with or the price paid with family deterioration and personal demise. More than one person has succumbed to poor health and loss of life due to stresses and poor lifestyle ... and they still do... all over the world. For us here in this more stable society of N.A. culture, we see more affluence in life, than the effluence of life in the constant tribulation for the poor and forgotten of this world. To see this first hand, it is hard to realize that we can not just give, we must teach, train and assist when and where invited. My words to the poor villages of India in my visits have echoed through mission for years; "Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day; teach a man to fish and he can feed himself and his family for a lifetime!" Easily spoken, but difficult to always translate into the needs as seen through the eyes of the continually poor. I digress!

There is so much in life that we take for granted. Each day we survey those potentials which are, the prospects, challenges, the hopes and dreams which make up the daily route along life being lived. This is the stuff of living, it is to be expected and when the unexpected comes it tends to unravel us. Yes, a good old fashioned term that still holds its meaning and power of description today. Little can be done about those moments. All the preparation in the world can not prepare us for life challenging episodes and none of us are immune to one or some in our lifetimes. I have experienced such episodes in the drama of my own life. I have watched others too many times go through their own dramas and felt their pain of distress and uncertainty. To love and care will often lead us into waters not so placid and surround us with cataracts and undertows that dismantle the assurance of fine living and personal preparation. What we do then, is the challenge that most of us would rather not consider. Yet, this too is a part of living.

So what about today. What is going on with life that brings me here to this topic of indecision? Well, it is a number of things, all of which could be better or worse, depending on the caption in the comic section of life. We go with the captions don't we? I try to provide the captions along with photo journals which will best direct those who follow our renovations, family escapades and travel, with a more humorous perspective of what is taking place. Not everyone follows the statements, but it is amazing how many do and will comment back with delightful retorts of all kinds. Some remain undecided I am sure and will just mull over in their minds the prospects of what might have happened over against what actually did take place. Today I am in that category... the undecided. A challenge is afoot and not only the what, but the hows are making inroads into my psyche and deciding how to deal with the "the stuff" of life is once again at my heels. I know only these thing for sure... God has not changed and He will see us through whatever come our way... He always has!

For those of you who take time to read my blog, this is one of the times when I am both confronted by uncertainty and yet am also comforted by the knowledge that as trials come so does prayer increase. I am certain that God is looking after all the cares we have. I am sure that He loves us more than we know and I am depending on both God and His people to lift us up through prayer for just a while, as we walk the uncertainties of life just now. Are there decisions to be made?... sure there are... there always will be. Are we going to make them all at once?... not likely. We will meet the challenges one at a time... if they become more real than imagined. Here is the key. Lord help us find You present in all that life brings. Help us to lean on You for in our weakness and fear, there are moments when You must carry us once again. Lord, take away all that causes worry and fear and plant Your healing power upon our bodies and hearts this day... as we live near the edge in these moments and help us to remember Lord... it is all about our perspective from here.

I'm Biding My Time

It is such a great thing to have made a day of it and to know that all is well with the world. I’ve had some of those down through the years. You know it has been one when at the end of the day you just feel complete, or somewhat at peace with yourself and those around you. It would be great if it happened every day, but we know that life does not afford us those victories all the time. There are lots more that end up with a bit of that feeling that there may have been more, or well something is missing and it can gnaw at our ability to rest satisfactorily.

Down our way there are lots of things to see, but not many of what we call bi-roads. You may call them something else in your location; secondary roads perhaps or country lanes. There are so many that can be traveled in a lifetime and many we love to travel over and over again, because at the end, there is something special to see or experience. I remember back a few years to my youth, taking trips with our parents down many of those country roads. We were explorers, setting out to new adventures and seeking new experiences and each little lane and old dirt road was just another avenue of delight in our eyes. Those weekly trips called for a complete loss of control. Not that Dad let go of the steering wheel, but he let go of the stereotypes of the ordinary and the practiced. There was chance that by the end of the day we would have seen most of the back roads of almost any part of the South Shore of Nova Scotia. That meant loosely targeting an area and then letting the road rise before us and not being afraid of a few signs of hard travel. Yup… My Dad and Mom were adventurers and they feared not as the road narrowed and there tended to be a few more bold representations of waterholes and large rocks to be gotten over or around. It was all part of the quest to find new treasures… memories never forgotten.

I have been thinking of late…. I know, some will say that is dangerous, but I do stop and take stalk of the time and tides as the clock ticks on. It may be an appropriate season of life to go on a few of those adventures again. I think, as much as that is practical, that the old haunts at this point in time may hold for me a few “new” surprises, some new forms of adventure that may have eluded me some 50 years back. I am not so myopic at this point… well… that is my opinion and I am allowed to have one by virtue of my age… right? LOL

But life becomes cluttered. The opportunities do not always align with the right time and the time does not always align properly with the correct mood and the mood does not always match the atmospheric conditions… well you get my point. The “stuffs” of life get in the way. I heard, well more correctly read a thoughtful, yet odd suggestion a while back… it was, needing to watch a TV program on hoarding to feel like we are not such a bad housekeeper. Hmm! At first I chuckled and then I let my imagination run with the idea that we do hoard “stuff” and not only that cumulative pile of junk that could go to the annual yard sale or the local Thrift Shop. I mean the stuff we poke into the memory banks in most inappropriate ways and with little justification, other than the fact that we carry those burdens just as that… Burdens! They may eat away at our sense and our sensibilities and cause the joys of life to elude us, when there are those once more adventurous, more freedom granting and joy filling experiences of the Roads Less Traveled;  as a thought from Frost. Hope I can get away with that, but I do give him credit as that bit of prose (and I do love poetry) as it has been somewhat of a guide in life for me.

But I digress. Where was I… Oh yes, the clutter…  Now that is the bane of our existence. We tend to trip over it on the way to living every day. If I had a broom that could handle that mess of useless, hard to handle, self-limiting and downright baffling mess, I would market it and make a fortune. What am I saying?… more, more, more and what I need is less, less, less! Well, you get the drift here. There is always another definition, another justification and another route that seems quite right at the time, and we all play in that sandbox at some point in life, without fail.

Ha… ya, now there is a word… to fail. My view of failure is another’s view of freedom sometimes… all in a person’s perspective in life. That thinly struck line is a demarcation of the things that can get us down. It’s kind of like a tempest in a teapot; we can get struck by the overwhelming sense that whatever it is, becomes too big to handle; when in fact we just need to breathe. Perspective is an awesome teacher. To some life is a haphazard heap of one hardship after another and for others it is the joy of daily challenges that can create just another adventure. Hmm…. Wonder where I “FIT” in there. Perhaps somewhere between challenged and haphazard. Oh well, I just gotta be me, but the clutter needs to be controlled. Yup… gonna control the clutter!

I sometimes wonder, as I wander along the path, if I am stuck or struck. Have you ever thought about that? We can get stuck in life and we can get struck in life as well. We all know, I would suppose, that the idea of being stuck is somewhat a familiar concept and easy to relate to, for some or perhaps even many. “Been there and done that”, some might even now be rehearsing. But the struck concept… now that is a bit different “kettle of fish”… OK... the use of “geographic centered terms is limited to those of certain backgrounds, but hey… walk nearer the edge and use some creative research. Have you ever taken a hard knock to the head, an unexpected hit to the mid-section? Well, it can take the wind out of you, stun you and even cause damage that can affect you in the future. It can’t always be averted, or they can hit you when you didn't see it coming. Sometimes there are those things which just happen, but they have consequences both short and long-term and the sting can be paralyzing at many different levels.

You see clutter is the backyard pile of non-essentials, it is the closet of hoarded past that no longer fits, but felt good to wear, it is the day to day stacks of papers, magazines, dishes left unwashed, laundry still to be started, but it is also those physical and mental pictures, feelings and fears that hide in the crevices of time and season. I am dependent, not so much anymore, upon other’s grace to get me through. That is hard. I am trying to deal with the clutter, in its various forms in life, and am using the overall mechanics and mechanisms of life to get me through… I am biding my time. The one great tool I have at my disposal is love… and another thus far is memory. The latter can be a curse if you are not careful. The way I see it is this… I am loved more than I can imagine, I have been taken on some pretty great adventures and my God has gotten me both to them and gotten me safely home thus far. Family growing up, family being grown and family being expanded has been a blessing. A set of friends, associates, travel more than some and perhaps more than most and now back home again… But now, I am biding my time. Letting go of the clutter, yet busy building what is both important to my those around me and am preparing for years of more adventures and another trip home when the time comes.

I've got some old country lanes and back roads to revisit too! There are some older faces to look upon once again and find the love that is “at harbour” there, while sharing some moments with some new faces would be great too. We are doing some of that every day, as new experiences turn the pages of time and tide. Why don’t you take a step towards the edge? We are on that journey anyway. Look a little further out… it is new perspective and the view from there may be challenge, but what a great view it is!

Adjusting to the Dampness

It’s Monday, it’s Canada Day and it’s raining! Well, two out of three isn't bad. As far as the rain is concerned, not too many folks are overly excited about the dampness that has invaded our Maritime summer in 2013. I have been watching the tourists come and go by home, on their way to explore the waterfront; some carry umbrellas, while others just stroll along adjusting to the dampness and nothing seems to be amiss.

Maybe that is where my thoughts are going this morning… adjusting to the dampness. As you know I am preparing a site for my new woodworking shop and it continues to rain. Nothing can dampen your spirits like the rain, but there are other factors that climb on board of our psyches and tend to take us for a ride in the wrong direction by times. There have been a few of late for me. Some things I talk about and others, well they are things I try to live through, and endurance is the name of the game in life. I see in others the lines of wear in their facial expressions and listen to the pain of experiential sadness that can envelope the soul for a myriad of reasons in life. We all try to do our best and there are days that our “best” can fall short of the mark we set for ourselves.

Years ago my Mom told me to aim high lest our best fall short of the horizon. Shooting for the stars was a practical bit of advice until it came to living the practical side of rural life with parents whose definition of the stars may not align with Jupiter… LOL. We can spend much time trying to calculate the cause and effect of the practical things we are wishing to undertake and miss the mark of what is the here and now. There is that tree! Such a small insignificant sapling not too many years ago, grew into the giant ash that was pushing over a building and we didn't seem to notice. Now that is dampness!

Others, result from years of seeping leaks in roofs and walls, around doors and windows; unnoticed until one day while cleaning, painting or inspecting… there it is… mould, mildew and rot. That can mean major repairs, refits and sometimes a total rebuild. That is where I am… in the midst of a total rebuild and the soul can take a beating if we let the lack of "Sonshine" diminish our view of what really is life. I can attest that projects, no matter how seemingly insignificant, can have their stress points. “IF” I allow myself to become so steeped in the externals of life, while not caring for the internals, I get lost.

Lost is a big word for some because it can stir up all kinds of memories, feelings and reactions that we may not expect. For others, it will just be a word that has meaning for practical reasons… for those “others” along the trail of life. We don’t want to be one of “them”! How convenient to shift the unsavoury hardships of life to only those who wear their lives on their collars. Having been part of an elite part of society for years… (OK,so it sounds fancy… but it wasn't…) I can tell you that we all have struggles and how we hide the stress, or more to the point, deal with the stresses of life, all fall into the same category of stress, even though dealing with it seems more acceptable than wearing it.

For example; many are those who transfer or offload stress… change the pattern by giving it to someone else… no longer their responsibility. Perhaps we do that in life and don’t realize we are doing it. If we pretend something is not there and it is not our responsibility… it does not exist. I am afraid not; that will not work. Somehow that route taken always comes back to bite us. In life we must take the rain with the sunshine and live through both the elements with a desire to see the challenges before us, as well as the benefits gained by our dealing with those challenges, as we face them daily.

That darn root. So I cut off the offending limb and yet I am confronted by a root system that has pushed the foundation stones out of place. You can see my dilemma. Not only was the limb an offending problem, but now deep roots from that original sapling are causing my blood pressure to take Zamba lessons. Talk about cardiovascular! I have chipped away at the site, uncovered part of the root system, sprayed water around the offending foe and still I feel lost. I don’t want to kill the tree, have it left less secure and open to disaster later on for both me and my neighbour. So I walk away during the heavy rains and research… you know the routine. Take a nap (you can do that when you are old and retired) and maybe when you wake up the answer will be forthcoming! LOL! Nope; nothing yet. Actually, my system has gone askew a bit… something that I have to expect from lingering problems following my illness in India in 2012, and this past week was one where I did little and had to rest a lot! That root system, while annoying, is just another challenge that will take a bit of work to overcome. Overcoming is the challenge. Not overlooking… overcoming. What I cannot do alone, I will do with help and it will get done.

So, dampness can get us down, it can cause our outlooks to be clouded, it can even depress us to the point of despair, if we don’t look beyond the rain and see the "Sonshine." In the group there were 2 adults and what seemed to be 3 teenage children and they walked a bit, danced a bit and stopped a bit to view the architecture and the “curious” nature of the street . We do have rather an eclectic assortment, if I must admit it myself. The drizzle was only of secondary importance it seemed. They were out of the car, van, camper or motorhome and were exploring new territory… they were living. The rain got them wet but the body and clothing would dry…. For now there was something to be experience and liquid sunshine was just another part of the day for them.

Watching them saunter along gave me a new perspective that morning. Even though my week was one with its own set of frustrations, I realized that I need not deflect, transfer or neglect the problems at hand, but just take them as they were. Each has its own challenge for sure, but each has its own solution as well. I guess the reasons behind dampness in areas of life may be as varied as they are many, but rather than be overcome by the effects, I am once again (as I tend to overlook that by times you know) peering through the mist and rain and seeing the sunshine in life. It may come in my own view of an eclectic assortment of challenges, but more often it come from family, friends and community; “that eclectic assortment of people and places I call home.”

Ah there may have been a bit of mildew on the old trunk this past week, but a new week is ahead and I see "Sonshine" through the clouds and that alone can turn things around for me, when I give Him a chance. So, if the rain has dampened your soul, do a little dance if you can, smell the rain freshened air and let the sunshine of the smiles of others help make your day cheerier. Take a walk along the edge today, give life a new spin, shuffle the cards and see what the deck holds for you, throw the dice in a new direction and see if it comes up snake eyes or double sixes! Hey! Walking near the can be a challenge, but it all depends on your perspective of the view from there. Go take a rainy day walk and see for yourself! Blessings!

Of Bits and Pieces

Around the corners of my memory banks are those bits and pieces that are sometimes hard to fit into place. You know how it is when you look at a puzzle and the colour and shape seems like it should fit “right there” and yet on trying you find that it is not the one. I find that while I am sitting early in the mornings now, with coffee in hand, just contemplating the next moves that will make-up the coming day, I will quite often get small trickling’s of memories. Perhaps some name that I have been working on for family history will be a reminder of an event, but I can’t always put my finger on it… the facts elude me and I end up with those lost essentials of complete recollection… I am left with just the bits and pieces.

There was a time when I could just call Mom or Dad and prime the pump, ask about that person, place or event and how something fit into a certain timeline. Not anymore! The sad truth is that now those valuable assets which were once readily available, are lost to time and the cycle of life. But I am not without hope. I still have box upon box of paper notes, booklets, clippings and stories collected through more than 5 decades of marriage, spanning a collective total of more than 175 years. It is hard to believe that two people could want to take note of the little things, things which may seem to some as obscure and trite, but to an amateur family historian and genealogist like me, it is a treasure trove.

Stories were told of early camping trips to Murray’s Field; of how a cow came trotting over to investigate the intruders and even though Mom was born and raised in a rural setting, she did not feel comfortable with a charging bovine, no matter its confused intentions. So, her immediate reflex was to swing her purse at the innocent attacker, only to have it disconnect from its handle and go shooting like a missile at the poor beast. Immediate tears! Hysterical events with Mom were always accompanied by tears, and Dad trying to figure out the full extent of the problem, before he got scolded. But, where was Murray’s field. I know it was in Upper Port LaTour, but there I get stuck. So part of the discovery is the process of patient research amongst those scattered archives in the boxes of paper… threads of the past.

What, where and how are not always the problems either. Dad had a love for an old set of repair tools that his Dad had for years. It included a pocket knife, sheathed in a medium-soft leather case, which accepted special tools in one end that locked into place. There was a variety of accessories and I suppose today the famous Swiss Army Knife would be a close second to the multi-tool which many handy-men carry strapped to their sides or in the glove-compartment of their car for easy access. This tidbit from history has its sad tale to tell. On arriving home from a summer vacation Dad found only the accessories remaining in the case… after searching for years his hope of ever finding the missing knife, the very key to the set, faded for ever. He was left with only bits and pieces.

I have noticed in life that many the time there have been stories told and memories shared over barbecues, at family gatherings and later in life social events, yet most of the time we are able to glean at best , only bits and pieces of the full picture of the essence of the that particular event or capsule of time. I used to think that to graze among the conversations and to make contact with as many folks as I could, would be the best use of the limited time, usually afforded us during those occasions. I am finding out that most of the time there were mere shallow contacts made, that had little lasting effect on how or why our conversations might make a difference in life as family. I long now for deeper meaningful chats about who affected their lives. How relationship made important those moments when we could connect and swap stories of who, what, when, where and why and thrown into that a greater, deeper understanding of how to know and love each other better. Not just the bits and pieces of life. It becomes the flip side of social hobnobbing; the flitting from person to person and paying our dues before getting back to “it”… the real meaning of life; the work, the issues we deal with… the rubber as it hits the road… the context, the context, the context, must always have its right place and find its center in the core of significant time spent, until it too is gone! There is little significance for bits and pieces in life.

An aunt once asked if I had many neckties. Another brought out a box and with the zeal of an archaeologist began hauling out remnants of cloth and explaining where each piece came from. A group of ladies captured my attention one day after a Bible Study and we perused the inventory of bags of ends of various fabrics, soon to be ripped, torn and then reconstituted into something beautiful, something memorable, something valuable and soon to be loved by a special person yet to be decided. All of these ladies were artisans, quilt makers and saw the beauty in the cloth, not as scrap, … just bits and pieces… but what they held as potentials for a greater whole, put together by hours of decision making and fine handiwork. Yes, even the strange shape of a necktie made it to the quilters frame and became a work of art and beauty

.

In my past I have taken time to go through woodpiles; especially hardwood piles. Firewood is generally wood that is gauged to be not quite fit for the other route, of furniture or flooring, where its strength will either be appreciated as a frame for your favorite chair or its beauty as a living room or dining room floor.  Left to mature, its value as a resource for high BTUs in your family room wood stove can endear the hearts of those who love wood heat. But I am more of a picker. Going through the piles I can see pieces that have a special character and have been known, with permission, to snatch a few bits and pieces for use at the lathe at home. Snatched from the fire so to speak, makes the gavels I form more special, as a reminder of how representative creativity can be in life. God snatched me from the fire and gave me a new life of service for Him… I am still working on that premise.

As I try to slow down and take time to see, feel, and share more, I know that I still have a long way to go. We orient ourselves to the fast pace… we have to get it done, we have to meet the deadlines and of course to some extent those are important. But the older I get I can see that there is more to life than just the immediacy of getting it all in. I want to take time once again to visit Murray’s field so to speak. I may not get to the exact location… it is now owned by someone different, but I can go to the village as stroll along the beach, smell the air and be reminded of how the past has both affected and shaped the present and my future.

Bits and pieces of life are sometimes all we have for a while. There may be time to fit many of them together and see the true extent of the beauty of what might otherwise lend an open-ended perspective to our sense of reality. Tying up those loose ends can be fun, or downright agony, but it is all about the perspective from there… while living near the edge.

Shopping For A New Shop

I once heard it said that it is not always wise to tear down to build bigger. Back in my youth my grandmothers Bible stories included the epic of the man who felt he needed bigger barns to store more of his crops, only to be told that his time was up and that he needn't build anything at this point. Hmm! So I have plans to tear down an old shed that served my parents, and who knows how many others, well for many years. The problem is that there is a hill in back of the shed on an adjoining property, from which flows water runoff and to a certain extent mud. That is just normal stuff, but down through the years the back wall facing the neighbours has had to be rebuilt several times and the picture of scabs of new wood now rotted once again haunt my sense of repair or rebuild ambition.

Here is the skinny on that battle of guilt for tearing down vs. good planning and preservation of resources by building new. For years now I have been gathering up both old and new machinery to have a woodworking shop in retirement.  So, I have a few items. There is a great band saw, a scroll saw, a bench-top drill press, my shop table saw, a job site table saw, a 13” planer, dedicated router table… well, you get the picture and I am barely skirting the surface. It has taken a couple of decades, some wonderful people who saw that I could make, carve and build stuff, and a loving wife, all of whom made it possible for me to have the many and varied woodworking tools that I have now. 

Well, when we moved home I stored much of the machinery in our shed, at back of our home. But with its deteriorating condition, the weather, a leaky roof and all started a race to stop the rust on the cast iron tables of my shop saw, and the 6 inch jointer. Then Karen discovered that it was attacking my lathe. She wanted everything saved… well… so did I. So we had a difficult decision to make. Renovate or rebuild. A quick tour and check of existing beams told us that there was rot everywhere. Ouch! Retirement is great but for the unknowns… right? Well, bit by bit decisions were discussed and I then realized that the only way forward was forward! Step by step the process of planning, getting quotes and well, facing the harsh reality of the cost was shocking. But, what does one do? Well, if it were just up to me, I would just go back to bed! LOL But such is not the case here. Karen, my cheerleader and holder of the cattle prod, gently reminds me that if we build it, it will be home to all that “stuff” at some point.

Truth is that Karen is looking forward to having everything in place so that the fun will begin. She is not always so sure of my dreamy projects, but sometimes I do hit on one or two that seem to make sense to her. With 6 grandchildren, and likely at least one more at some point, there will be lots of projects to be undertaken until they are well into their 30’s I figure. Hey, that correlates with my plan to live another 30 years. Some guys I know have worked in their shops until their 90’s! I can do this! Now that is good planning! But, then it will also be construction central for those have to do projects when outside requests for renovations and custom builds enter the picture. I could use my workshop now for a just such a request… that shop table saw would be mighty handy just now. Oh well, that is why I have a job-site saw. Oh my there is a story behind that saw!  I will tell you all about it one day.

Work/funeral hiatus… and now back. I get a lot of calls to conduct funerals for old friends and family. I cannot decline… I am here to help!

Well it has been a couple of busy weeks. But things have progressed here at the demolition site. I started with the roof and have FINALLY made it to the hole in the ground that I need to begin the rebuild, or as I recently told someone; “out of the ashes rises a new woodworking shop!” That may be hard to follow, but for those of you who may follow my photo diary on Facebook, there is a fire component to the tear-down process. Karen, my sidekick and supervisor, loves to burn the small bits and pieces that come with demolition. On the many other projects that we have undertaken down through the years, (and there are many) she has loved to have campfires and burn off the leftovers rather than just find a place for them all to go. In this case there would have not been enough room in the dumpster, which held all the rotten pieces of boards and beams along with roofing and such.

We have been building, rebuilding and renovating, it seems like, constantly for the past 15 years. The question often arises whether I will ever see the end. Nah! I guess not! Anyhow, if you love the work why stop… Right? But life is much like that, it seems. We are never quite satisfied are we? We like to tweak what seems to be OK or sufficient to make do… yet not quite perfect. Or our minds change like the seasons and we just want to try something different. Years back, I was warned by a wise old sage friend of mine to not undertake too much, as there will always be the maintenance of what we have to keep us busy. But who can resist making life better? After all there is that urge to make it all fit in, until one day we realize it is all too big now for us to handle. But on the other hand the needs of the time were met and we did enjoy the product as well as the process.

So what about those barns I mentioned that were too late in the Biblical story? Well, I want to be productive and content, and I think I have been given the resources (machinery and a wee bit of talent) to make good use of this project. So, out of the ashes… a new shop! Curious enough though, I do regret that I couldn't just repair what was there… I am the consummate restoration guy… let’s make it better, not necessarily destroy to rebuild, unless totally necessary. I guess God works that way too. Lots of things about us may show a bit of rot, that sin that can eat away at the roots of our foundations from time to time, but He keeps working on us rather than just starting fresh with a new model.

I’d like to think that most of those who read my ranting would agree with me. If you don’t, that is quite all right. I allow for love to be large enough to embrace the joy of life and then I pray for your peace. I find that as I gaze out to sea I know how much larger life is, than just that which we see around from day to day. I know that the universe is greater than my understanding, and now at this juncture of life, I am building on the knowledge that if God grants me a tomorrow, I want to be of some use whether writing, building or praying… I am going to stand on the edge… and note the view from here for a while yet! 

Looking Back With a View to the Future

Back when (“Back in the day of it”) I was just a puppy, there was so much information to take in. Stuff in the form of names, places and social structure… Ya, I know, back then I didn't even know what social structure was, but you soon learned your place in family and life. Those were different days. The time was mid 1950’s and the 60’s. I likely have shared that family was a fluid sort of structure that seemed to flow with the needs of individuals and community. There seemed to be a lot of coming and going in those days, including within the construct of our direct family. That is just the way it was then, but we all seemed to survive somewhat intact!

The one more stable area for us was the names of places. Sitting around the older men, and later to a certain extent the women of the area, we soon learned all the childhood haunts that became the memories we would cling to. They would float their way to the surface in later years as I happened to drive by them on our way home for a visit. “The Rock” was our first special place. It was nothing more than a boulder the size of 2 car tires piled on top of the other, but to us it was a tower from where we could survey life and wait for Dad to come home from work. It was located just over half way between us and Burns Oickle home on the Ohio Road. That rock shrank as we grew, and it was finally removed when the new road came through in the late 50’s.

Morine’s Brook, named for someone who I can’t remember, was one of the landmarks and a place to catch frogs and polliwogs… never large enough to really fish, but for me it was a whole new world to explore as I made my way west along its stream toward the river. To the east it ran up into the Blueberry Hills. Now that held for me a place of mystery, adventure and a never-ending opportunity for a new quest as the days of summer opened the door to spare time. You see, those so-called Blueberry Hills were filled with paths beat down  over decades of use, by not only the ladies and children who roamed the rolling hills for blueberries, but the deer and before that the moose, who browsed on the young plants and hardwoods that dotted those barrens during that time. All the paths seemed to lead somewhere and the adventure was to find where… usually to a wood road or out to the Ohio Road’s entry point to the hills.

Two massive structures, one man made and the other natural, were out of the zone of activity for a long time, but oh how they called my name. Ipicca Mountain was a huge pile of cut granite which I believe was brought in when mills were being built, so that water could be diverted through granite raceways to power the mills and so on. Remnants of such a mill could be seen near this granite pile and that section of the river became one of my favorite fishing spots. There is now a wonderful set of rental cottages located near there and I know the owners value both the history and the beauty of the area.

The other natural structure was the Rock Mountain. It has a steep incline, but much to our joy it housed an old shed that was for some time perhaps a radio shack for early two-way radio, used by a cousin who lives in the area. Back then it had to be a secret adventure to climb the steep incline to the summit and there pretend that you were at the top of the world. Oh what a feeling … what a rush. Days spent in exploration between chores and time for afternoon and evening swims made summers the most exciting time of the year for us. Life was an adventure and bikes gave us freedom to go further afield and get there faster to afford us a lot more time to see and do it all.

My Dad came to the point where he needed help every day. My brother and I took that task on and gave our time and ourselves to see that he wanted for very little. Putting him to bed at night was for me the hardest part. He wanted to be so independent and put his pyjamas on by himself until near his 96^th year. We would hold him upright so he could stand to finish the job and then get him tucked in, in that particular way he liked, and then with these closing words he would ask, “How long Edwin… how long?” It wasn’t the fact that he feared the end coming, it was the knowledge that it might go on too long and he was tired. He remembered home, he told short stories some nights about special places and he always said, “This is how I started out in life… in a crib with the sides up… I've gone full circle Edwin!” I tried never to cry, but would joke those moments away… that is how I handled Dad… I sometimes challenged his opinions and he never knew what to expect.

One day, as I was asked to give him a bath, I thought that I would come dressed in snorkel gear. At the last minute I decided not to, but told Mom about the thought that had passed through my mind. I found out later, I think after Dad’s death, that she had told him what I had planned and he said that he wished that I had gone through with my plan, so that we could have had another great laugh together. Life becomes an adventure and around the corners on life’s trip, there are so many to be had. Not all of them are comfortable trips, that we look forward to, but some become necessary and lend us both strength and stamina, showing us how strong the binds that ties us together really are.

Dad gave us boys a map to the future, but also a link to his past and that was more than mere paths through the woods. He gave us critical information that would keep us safe and likely never even realized what he was doing. He lived the life, from our perspective anyhow, that made sense; one of a responsible parent, citizen and believer. He wanted to remain true to it all and held it in balance as far as I could see.

I guess I may never be quite so successful, but I want to have been. We can spend so much time trying to make amends for failures, that perhaps we have trouble being part of what is taking place now. I guess my path lead me away, rather than towards stability of place and old haunts. We moved a lot and my call in life took me away when family life was really more important to them perhaps. But today I want to spend time with them and I for a time wondered if it would be more like the popular tune of the 90’s where the son wanted time with the father, but the dad had not time then. Later in life when that dad had more time and he wanted to spend time with his son, then the son’s life was busy and he had no time for his dad. So it is in the circle of life. Here are my Dad’s words to me back in 2000 after I had moved to a community just 30 minutes from home just 3 years before; “When are you going to move again Edwin?” Rather rattled I answered, “Why don’t you like having me around?”… His look was sad and he seemed for a moment longing for an answer, and this is how he finally voiced his thought; “I figured if you moved away, I might see you more!”

I now walk among those hills, along those brooks and climb those piles of granite rubble in my mind and realize that one day in the not so distant future … oh in perhaps 30 years or so, it will be my turn to look back from a different perspective. I too will have come full circle. The joy of the journey at this juncture in life for me, as I choose to take time, is the constant review of the little things that have made the trip thus far worth the taking. I try also to visualize those moments with mistakes, things I might do differently and then formulate what may be better done and given, so that my legacy to them will be as meaningful as that of my Dad to me. God gives us so much to give thanks for and we need to glance at the clock sometimes and see where we are on the timeline. No matter the placement in any one given moment, it holds for us opportunities to make a difference and in so doing we are being true to what "is life near the edge".

Note: Today has been a nostalgic moment for me in more ways than usual, as I celebrate another birthday very soon. A few days later my sweetheart and I will celebrate our 40^th year of marriage. She figures that I owe her for over 40 years of haircuts now, and if I am going to live to be 100, I will never get out of debt, so I have decided to just keep on letting my hair grow and see what happens.

Be blessed! I am!