A New Season

The seasons are changing in Saskatchewan. While the blizzard last weekend may have suggested otherwise I will not allow myself to believe that it was anything other than winter's final sigh as it makes way for spring. The potholes, rutted streets and dripping down spouts all suggest that snowbanks, large as they may be, will soon recede. I can't wait.

My tomatoes seedlings are growing away in my basement, I only hope they don't bear fruit before they can make it into the ground outside. My garden is planned. I cannot wait for new life to spring forth in my backyard. While the white landscape may have held a few weeks of magic around December 24th it now feels nothing but grey and dreary. It is time for green, for flowers, for warm sunshine. It is time for change.

A metaphorical season in the Ehmann house is also changing. It has been a long season as well. One that started of exciting and......well, magical might be a bit strong.....but has now become somewhat long and dreary. Residency is ending, just when I thought it wasn't going to......there are many similarities between this Saskatchewan winter and medical training. I am excited...looking forward to seeing a little green in more ways than one it appears.

As often happens at the end of a difficult season, the challenges faced fade. Memory has a funny way of protecting us from difficult seasons. Why else would women have more than one child....or people continue to live in Saskatchewan year after year :-). The danger of forgetting is that we fail to remember the ways in which we have been provided for throughout this season. It is hard remember the neighbour down the block and the generous use of his snow blower while you are basking in the July heat. I don't think to be thankful for not scraping my car windows in August or running out quickly in bare feet in June. In this moment, while the memories are still fresh I am thankful.

I am thankful for friends, family and neighbours. Those who have prayed for us, shared meals with us and supported us. Those who have shoveled our driveways, walked our dog and invited us over for a night of distraction. Those who have facilitated date nights and getaways. Those who have filled our freezer and cleaned our home. Those who have visited whether in person, on the phone or through skype. We are blessed.

Grasping to Remember

A loved one is losing their memory. Grasping to remember where they are, who is visiting, how to do things.....who they are. A lifetime of making memories slipping away.  Life is fragile. Dementia is a stealthy thief, a relentless fiend. This time it moves swiftly. I am sad today thinking of my family at home laying witness to memories lost. I am sad I can't be there yet partially thankful I am not.

I am reminded today of how treasured memories are. The ones, big and small, that we make each day. The memories of childhood, of friendships, of family. The laughs shared, tears shed. How I take these for granted. That I wake up each morning knowing where I am, recognizing the face of my husband the giggle of my little boy.

As I drove to the pool for an afternoon swim yesterday, my heart heavy with reports from home, I wondered what it might be like to lose everything yet still remain. To forget even your very sense of self. To forget not only those you love but who you are at your very essence. A thought struck me. Perhaps this happens more than I think. Perhaps even in the absence of dementia, I can lapse into periods of forgetting who I am.

In this season of lent, the season of reflection....of remembering...is it possible that I can lose track of who I am? Of who I am in Christ, the very essence of my being? When I feel hopeless, am overcome with worry, see myself as lacking, am I really forgetting who I am? If I am honest this happens not only during Lent but at all times.

As I watch from a distance someone grasping to remember, I am challenged not only to embrace today, the very creation of those treasured memories but to reflect daily, to practice the art of remembering who I am.

Little Feet

This morning little feet pad around my house. Four little feet....two more on their way for a playdate. Three babes born under a month apart almost a year and a half ago. Thump, thump, thump.....all around the house. From the kitchen, down the hall, to the big picture window to check out what is happening outside. Squeals of laughter, spontaneous dancing, the jibber jabber of toddlers deep in conversation. Much to be thankful for this morning.
This has been a week without a husband. He deep in studying for an exam, preparing to be licensed a few provinces over. I deep in one on one time with my little man who is teething like crazy. It has been a trying week but as I placed another load of laundry in my washing machine this morning I found myself thankful for the little things. Or rather challenging myself to be thankful for the little blessings that surround me (although I am sure in many parts of the world what I deem to be "little" are nothing short of miraculous). So here it is....my blessing list this morning.

I am thankful that loads of laundry are completed each week with a push of a button. With a swish and swirl and 55 minutes later. Clean! Miraculous. My ancestors would be in awe.

 ....and behold.....my dishes are cleaned in a similar matter. Each night as I sleep.

 In a world filled with snow and subzero temperatures I am thankful for a car that starts reliably. One even starts with button, waiting warm for us when we are ready to leave.

 Dimming lights in the wee hours of the morning.....and good friends that suggest installing them when a new babe is on the way.

 Heat in my house that does not require me to gather, chop or trek into the snow for more heating fuel.

 Musical toys......with off buttons.

 Technology that allows me to daily connect with friends and family far away.

 Windows that let in sunshine when freezing temperatures keep us from enjoying the daylight outside.

Left overs frozen away ready to eat when time slips away and meals aren't ready.

Timers on ovens, because when life gets busy things get burned.

With  a reminder of the blessings it is time to chase some of those little blessings. To add a big pair of feet to all those little feet running around. To let some of my own laughter join the mix. 

Love Your Neighbour

 
Well the Christmas Season has come and gone and our little family has finally returned home. The home we left in late fall surrounded by leaves of gold and red is now blanketed (rather thickly) with snow. I have missed this home and I am so grateful to return. Our time away was good, much better than I could have hoped for. Our return so sweet.

Merely hours after returning our neighbours greeted us. The next morning arriving with a dozen fresh baked buns and another of delicious homemade cinnamon buns. While I don't know the exact age of our neighbours I would suspect them both to be in their eighties. Both are masters of their own art form. Her a skilled quilter that puts any of my amateur work to shame. Him an accomplished wood carver, turning what is raw and misshapen into intricate works of art. They are generous people. People who graciously lend to us tools, baking supplies, even manpower and skill. Just over a year ago he helped Tim dig window wells and landscape our backyard. She, on more than one occasion has picked up thoughtful gifts. A unique pin cushion from a quilt show....material she knew to match the quilt I was working on....tools she knew would make my project easier. We are blessed.

Jake and I try to make it over for a visit when we can. She gives him cookies, he laughs as Jake crawls over him. They both let him have the run of the house. During our first visit of the new year I mentioned that I was having a hard time finding a rabbit ornament for Jake's Christmas present. Yes, I know, Christmas is past but a little boy won't know when his mom tracks down the perfect ornament for his second Christmas just as long as it is ready for the tree next year. Jake's beloved stuffed animal "Peter Rabbit" has been hard to find in ornament form. Within minutes of my request, our neighbour, the one who professes to not give away any of his carvings presented us with a mini "Peter" so perfect. The rabbit was quickly adorned with an ornament hook and signed by the artist. My search concluded. The perfect ornament was found. Yet again blessed by the people next door.

As I reflect on the generosity of these neighbours I am challenged. I feel loved by them undoubtedly. I feel cared for by the other neighbours on our block who have welcomed us home. For the ones that walked down the block when they saw us outside and invited us to a games night this week. I feel loved by these people who would ultimately be strangers did they not live on the same street. Do they, and the others that live in the houses along our street feel loved by us? Do the lonely ones? The angry ones? The worrying and anxious ones? The ones with new babies or difficult teenagers? Do they feel loved by us? Do we see unshoveled driveways and long grass as annoyances, products of laziness or opportunities? As I enjoy yet another cinnamon bun and look forward to a play date with the family across the way and a games night with the couple down the lane I am grateful for my neighbours I know and love and challenged to love those I am yet to know.