In the background you can see a beaver house. We were fishing right under the dam the beavers made. Right in front of the weeds, you can barely see two beavers busily working.
Kendall is, for some unknown reason, walking across the dam. If you look closely, you can see a beaver swimming close to the weeds.
I had the camera ready just in case he would start falling. I thought it would be a good moment to capture on film. Of course I would have quickly thrown down the camera (after snapping a picture) and ran to rescue my dearly beloved husband.
I was concentrated, but unsuccessful.
Looks heavy.
Kendall convinced Eli to let the sucker suck his thumb.
This morning we were visited by two big, burly police officers.
It started when I was in the bathroom after my shower and I heard the phone ring.
No, it started several days ago when I wrote up a list of emergency numbers to fulfill a requirement for our foster parenting home study.At the very top of the list is ‘911.’I went over the list with Eli and we talked about what to do in case of an emergency.911 was a very important part of that conversation, along with the three neighbors he could go to for help.
Jump forward to this morning.Normally, if all is quiet when I finish my shower, I go check on the boys right away before getting ready.This morning I could hear them playing right outside the bathroom door so I knew they weren’t getting into anything.It sounded like they were really into pretending something or other.Then the phone rang.The boys were playing in the living room by this time and quite oblivious to the phone.
“This is the OPP.We just received a 911 hang up call.”
I was confused.The boys were playing happily in the living room.But they said it came from this phone number.
“Just a minute,” I told the woman on the other line.“Eli and Evan, were you playing with the phone?”
They nodded.
“What number did you call?”
Eli’s answer: “911.”
I explained to the 911 dispatcher and she said that she would need to send a couple officers over to check on us.Policy.
I hung up the phone and quickly got dressed.I wasn’t too keen on the idea of answering the door in my bathrobe.
So Eli and Evan stood watch at the window until the police car pulled up.Thankfully, they were very friendly.I want my kids to like police officers.They talked to us a bit and then left.Eli said he was embarrassed, but I think it was kind of exciting too.
I’ve explained to the boys that if I’m really sick or hurt, 911 is the number to call.I reiterated the purpose of 911 for the boys.“It’s for when someone really is having trouble.”
Superhero Eli responded, “We thought you were in trouble!”
Right.As I thought back to the play I was hearing from the bathroom, it is quite possible that they were pretending I was in trouble.I wasn’t able to hear what they were saying, but I had a feeling that I was involved in whatever they were imagining.I just thought it was something more typical, like getting ready to attack the enemy in the bathroom or spying on her or setting a trap for her.But apparently they were looking out for my well-being.Thank you, dear little superheroes.
It's done! And I'm enjoying the cheeriness. As time has gone on, I've started liking the yellow more and more. I still want to make covers for the chairs. I'm planning on buying fabric when were down south next month.
(Only after I took the picture did I notice the various toys peeking out from under the red table. Oops. I wanted to make it look like the kitchen was always this neat. And is the boys' bedroom door open? Is that a sneak peek of the horrendous mess in there?)
We tore the formica off of the two tables that were in here. The tables were old, heavy, and quite large. It took a lot of work to tear off the formica and sand off the glue. Kendall apologetically commented that someone was really happy with their work when the put the formica on. But it served its purpose for many, many decades and now it's time for a new look.
This kitchen is so huge and cafeteria-like. So when we took the freezer out of this corner, I needed something else to fill it up. I imported a chair and an end table from the living room. I found the old lamp upstairs. So far I've really only used it to hold the boys when they get hurt.
We cut this table in half length-wise. I tried to paint it a lighter shade of red. Oh. Light red = pink. Well, after terrorizing the paint mixing people at the hardware for about an hour and after many coats, this will have to do.
I didn't know where to keep the hand-me-down KitchenAid from Mom H. Then I thought, "Perfect! It fits! It's yellow and even though it wasn't made to look retro, it's old enough that it does it naturally!"
The daisy wall hanging says, "For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven." It was a Valentine's gift from Kendall. The photos include the picture of our family walking through the bush and various Canadian scenery shots from different seasons.
The pitcher and bowl are made by our resident potter.
And the towel bar is a disassembled upside-down chair from a garage sale.
The table cloth was a going away gift from my Maple City Health Care friends. I love it.
This is an arrangement of pussy willows. I put them in water to keep them flexible in case I wanted to make them into a wreath. But then I liked how it looked.
There are two problems with this arrangement. First of all, the pitcher is Tupperware. Secondly, Kendall says it overwhelms him.
Yesterday I was sitting on the couch with the boys. Eli looked over at my belly and said, "I can tell you're getting fatter." (He has wistfully told me this several times lately, but I don't think it's true.) He reached over and affectionately patted my belly. "I can't wait to have a baby." He really wants a baby and knows that they grow in their mommies' bellies, but doesn't seem to have all the facts.
The boys have babies on their minds. Two family friends have recently added babies to their families and the boys have seen pictures of a baby who will soon be adopted by other friends.
Our good friends in Indiana just had a baby boy. Eli wondered if their baby might be brown or black. I explained to him that when both parents are white, the baby is usually white as well. But now that I think about it, I can understand his question. The baby soon to be adopted by white parents is brown and he knows that we may foster a brown baby. I'm glad this isn't so perfectly clear in his mind.
The other day Evan was helping me wash dishes. Out of the blue, he turned to me and said, "We should visit "Jon Doe" and "Jane Doe's" baby." (I'm not saying their names in order to protect their identities.)
I told Evan, "They don't have a baby."
"Yes they do. You said!"
"No they don't, Evan."
"Well, it gots to be in one of their tummies then." (Hmm... Makes me want to find out if Evan knows something I don't. A certain couple will be getting an email with an important question.)
The smoke from our fire hovering above the (mostly) frozen lake.
Yummy tinfoils. It looks cold in this picture, but it was actually quite nice. The first day we were there it was up around 60F and sunny. This was the second day. Still fairly warm, but no sun. After that the temperature dropped. And no more sun. We even got a new dusting of snow. Sigh.
Eli wandering out onto the lake. Never fear- it's safe where he is.
Another one of Evan's outdoor naps. Just kidding.
As you could see in the pictures, the lake was quite slushy and wet. We started across on snowmobiles, but slogging through all that water and slush gave me the heeby-jeebies for some reason. Besides, it was hard to stay completely upright and I just wasn't up for dumping myself and one of the boys into the icy puddles. So after a bit of snooping, Kendall hit the jackpot. He found this thing and it greatly increased his joy. We used it a lot while we were there. We hauled firewood with it and drove around the camp picking up the trash that is being uncovered as the snow melts.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Lao-tzu
July 1, 2008 This journey so far has taken me one thousand and four miles from my hometown, but I’m having trouble putting my finger on the single step that began it all. Was it Monday afternoon at the border when they gave me my official document allowing me to pass? Was it Saturday morning when we started the car and drove out of Goshen in our funny little caravan? Was it in February when we came up to Red Lake for a job interview at the hospital? Was it two Christmases ago being up here with Kendall’s family and all of us rating our desire to live up here? (I can’t say my number on a scale of 1 – 100 was high, but it was the highest of all the in-laws, so I guess I’m the chosen one.) Was it three years ago almost to the day that Kendall first said, “What if we’d move up here?” (I tried to ignore that one for several months, thinking surely it would go away.) Or was it June 10, 2000 when I married Kendall and made some solemn promises before God and all these witnesses? Was it a night before Kendall and I were married when we talked about moving to Red Lake? (It was a far off and romantic possibility at that time.) Or was it living in and visiting different cultures at different times in my life? Could the first step have been when my parents brought me as a baby to this same area for a year of voluntary service? (Kendall wasn’t born yet, but I surely saw his parents as they chatted with mine from time to time.) What about when my dad lived on a nearby reserve for two years before he was married? Or when my mom visited this town with her family as a teenager? Or maybe it had something to do with choices my grandparents made? Or other ancestors farther back?
At any rate, moving into this house where I slept for a few weeks as a baby and where my dad stayed as a teenager, has made me very aware of roots. And how they affect our lives and choices and passions.
I suspect there is no single step that began our move a thousand miles away from Indiana. It seems, rather, to be a coming together of so many different factors. (Not the least of which is marrying a man who has taken this land as a very part of his being. And for all the ways I can tease him and get annoyed at some of his woodsman ways, I really do mean that in a reverent and respectful way.)
So here we are, a thousand miles from nowhere. (Oops…I meant a thousand miles from Goshen.) I know that we safely made the journey here, but mostly our journey is just beginning. And mostly I’m excited.
In the background you can see a beaver house. We were fishing right under the dam the beavers made. Right in front of the weeds, you can barely see two beavers busily working.
Kendall is, for some unknown reason, walking across the dam. If you look closely, you can see a beaver swimming close to the weeds.
I had the camera ready just in case he would start falling. I thought it would be a good moment to capture on film. Of course I would have quickly thrown down the camera (after snapping a picture) and ran to rescue my dearly beloved husband.
I was concentrated, but unsuccessful.
Looks heavy.
