Wednesday, August 24, 2011

God Shuts the Door, or Not.

Even though we are a God-fearing household, there are times when any one of us has doubts. My five-year-old has had several recently, and despite singing Sunday School songs throughout her playtime, she insists that God is not real.

She is very different from me, as I simply accepted my mother's explanations of God's love, and never questioned it until later in life. Little Miss, however, throws out statements like "God is not here," and, "He didn't make everything," all of which are direct opposites of what we've been teaching her.

You have to understand that through all of this I see a little inquisitiveness, a little childish rebellion, and quite a lot of humour.

We have watched the movie "Evan Almighty" together as a family, and have explained that although it is not entirely correct, the movie represents the story of Noah's Ark in the bible. So when we actually read the story from the bible, we pointed out the differences:

One difference is that God himself shuts the door of the ark, not Noah or his family. My daughter looked up as I read this, with interested eyes.

So the next day she was helping me unpack the groceries from the van, and I could hear her talking aloud. As I stepped into the kitchen she turned to me, with her arms full of groceries, and said, "I told you God is not real! I asked Him to shut the door for me and he didn't!"

"You can't boss God around," I said, "but if you want Him to show himself, he's going to do it the way He wants. You sincerely ask Him to, and He'll do it."

She looks up at the ceiling, says, "Show yourself, God," shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. In a five-year-old world you get about 3 seconds to prove yourself, or all deals are off.

I am sure God can handle it, though, and is smiling at her, as I am.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

House Hunting

A number of years ago, when my husband and I were looking for our first house, we realized that within our budget there were some SLIM pickings out there. Even the house we did buy was a huge fixer-upper, but nothing compared to the house of which I am about to tell you:

The real estate agent took us into this older home: two-storey, three bedroom, etc. We walked into the kitchen which was very narrow and long, like a hallway. The counter was very low - Mr. Man, with his height, would find it hard to wash dishes without straining his back - and the upper cabinets were so high up, that I, with my lack of height, could not reach them.

"Look," I laugh, "the top ones are for you and the bottom ones are for me!" He did not laugh.

So we went over to the stairs. The railing (original to the house) was so loose, it was unsafe to use. I gave the "eyebrow" to Mr. as we leerily took the stairs up.

And as we reached the grand finale of our tour, we gasp, screw up our faces with a big "EWW!" when we see the master bedroom. Along the far wall there is a large bed on the right, with a toilet on the left. (No divider, partitions, walls, etc...) GROSS!! We were outta there!

We joked much later that you could practice aiming from the bed...but maybe that is inappropriate here.

We went through houses that had terrible smells, crazy animals, and low ceilings (the real estate agent and I fell in love with this little house and turn to find Mr. Man with his head tilted - he couldn't stand up straight in the thing!) but we found our house with a little imagination, and hope that we could make it ours. And our toilet is always enclosed in it's own special room, called an ensuite.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Dumb and Dumber

One day, when I was supposed to be teaching parabolas to my grade 11's, I stopped mid-lesson and told them a story. [I did this often as grade 11 math can be soooo dry.]

As a teenager I was part of a youth group. Each year near the end of the season, we would plan a campout at a nearby Ontario Park. One year we went up to Bon Echo Lake (some students smiled and nodded as they'd been there with their outdoor education class). We got out of the vehicles, and unloaded our gear, happy to have the drive done.

Now our youth group was from a small country church which consisted of a few misfits (I was the exception, of course) thrown together. There were these three guys; one very tall and thin, shaggy brown hair and big square glasses; another, called Red, with freckles and a really thick red mullet; and the third; a shorter version of the first guy, named after the Duke's of Hazard: I can't mention real names, but his parents seriously included Wayne, Beau, and Luke in his name.

So back to the trip. As I said we all got off the bus, and were really excited about being there. Red ran right over to the lake, stepped in a bit and dove in. Now if you know the beach I am talking about, it is all pebbly and shallow, and you do not go diving into it off the shore. He came up, holding his head, bleeding from the mouth and soon realized he'd pushed his front teeth in.

But of course, since we'd just got there he didn't want to ruin the campout so he kept his accident to himself and his two buddies.

Gradually throughout the afternoon as we set up our tents and got the campfire started, one of the leaders noticed Red throwing up behind a bush. After speaking with him for a few minutes, it came about that he'd been walking around the perimeter of the campsite all afternoon, throwing up from what was most likely a concussion.

So the gig was up, and Red was sent to a nearby hospital. He tall, lanky friend had brought a car, and because he didn't want to miss out on the action, the Duke-ster went with. We found out later, after they were safely back, that while Red continued to be sick out the front window for the entire drive, the Duke-ster, while watching his friend's poor state, proceeded to get sick out the back window!

Needless to say, the tall, lanky guy got an extra marshmallow that night, and my students had difficulty getting back to work.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Changes

As I approach September, it is always a new start for me, perhaps from years and years of school, both as a student and a teacher. So I find myself, in this "new year", reflecting on what I've spent my time on and whether it was worth it; and whether I will do it again next year.

After a few days of contemplation, I still have no idea.

I have enjoyed my friends more - especially since the warmer weather hit. We've had sewing nights, chats over coffee, last minute potluck dinners, and some "women in business" boosting sessions. A couple of girlfriends are starting maternity leave soon, which frees them up (in a way) to spend time together. Others will go back to work or will hibernate (as I am prone to do) throughout the winter.

It has been a busy cake year. Lots of new fads coming through and I kept up with them. Crazy new ideas each week (can you make a severed head out of cake - yes!) Bridal Shows are another sign of a new year, and vendor request forms are knocking at my door. Which will I do? Which benefitted me in the past? Do I want to do so many wedding cakes, or should I switch to pies instead? [snort - just kidding!]

And, of course, the family. The kids' schooling is big, important, and VERY BUSY. Fundraisers, pizza days, school trips, homework...it just keeps going. (Sigh) And now we start it all over again. Mr. Man is hard at his work, possibly contemplating whether his year was worth it...but not having the option to change it just yet. (Wait for that million dollar lotto, honey!)

Sometimes changes come when you least expect it: sometimes good, sometimes bad. In our town there has been news of new job promotions, old friendships rekindled, a successful soccer season and new puppies adopted. But alas, many shops are closing in town, businesses failing, basements flooding, and several cases of cancer in our little community.

Life is certainly about constant change, and thankfully, some of it is within our grasp. Do we change things up or do we leave them just the same?

One of my favourite friends says, "If you can't change anything, at least you can change your furniture around!" Just last week, following her example, my six-year-old son moved his room around during a boring afternoon. He pushed each piece of furniture around, huffing and puffing. He had it all planned out in his head and gradually got the job done. There was a big smile on his face as he looked at all he had accomplished. Hands on hips, he gave a happy sigh.

Perhaps I do not need to change too much about this upcoming year. We could just see what happens? Perhaps I need to let the chips fall where they may... but I think I'll choose the colour of them first.

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