Because I have been given much

There's a hymn that we sing in church that goes:

Because I have been given much, I too must give.
Because of thy great bounty, Lord each day I live.
I shall divide my gifts from thee with every brother that I see,
who has the need of help from me.

Because I have been sheltered, fed by thy good care…
I cannot see another’s lack and I not share-
my glowing fire, my loaf of bread-my roof’s safe shelter over head,
that he too may be comforted.

Because I have been blessed by thy great love dear Lord,
I’ll share thy love again according to thy word.
I shall give love to those in need. I’ll show that love by word and deed,
thus shall my thanks be thanks indeed.

The words were written by Grace Noll Crowell (1877-1969).

As I was thinking about Haiti this morning, feeling guilty that I am so preoccupied with my own very trivial concerns in light of their terrible suffering, I thought of that poem. And I realized that feeling guilty about being so blessed does no one any good. I don't have any answers about why disasters happen. I do know that much suffering in the world comes from ignorance, from want and from greed, from people deliberately choosing to follow evil paths. Natural disasters are just that. Natural. Our earth has its weaknesses, its faults, just as we humans do. And from time to time those weaknesses and faults cause a catastrophe, just as human weaknesses and faults do.

We can help Haiti regardless of whether we have surplus money. If we lack money, we can help them by praying for them in whatever way we believe. If we are healthy enough, we could sacrifice by giving up a meal and sending those funds to whatever relief agency we feel comfortable with.

But, as one news commentator pointed out, this catastrophe is only one more item in Haiti's long litany of suffering through the decades and centuries. From time to time countries come up on people's radar through disasters or war and great humanitarian efforts are mounted. And then another disaster comes along.... When I think of Haiti, I think of Scrooge's exchange with the Ghost of Christmas Present. As his time with the ghost was almost finished, the ghost revealed to Scrooge two emaciated children shivering beneath his robes, and said that the boy was called Ignorance and the girl Want. The spirit warns Scrooge, "Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased." Scrooge shudders and asks the ghost whether the children have "no refuge, no resource," and the spirit retorts with Scrooge's same words, "Are there no prisons, no workhouses?" And Scrooge realizes how smug and oblivious to the suffering around him he has been; he has himself been ignorant and because of his ignorance, those who could have been helped by his great wealth went wanting.

Ignorance does indeed spell doom in so many ways. For those in poverty stricken countries, it means that they lack the knowledge and means to create sustainable communities, to build safe housing and sanitary conditions of life. For others in wealthier communities, ignorance can lull them (us?) into thinking that what happens to others doesn't affect them and, more tellingly, that it can't happen "here." Or that danger can somehow be kept at bay by walls or by weapons or by someone else's expertise. But it can't as we have seen time and time again over the last few decades.

We are all responsible for our own and other's safety. We have been given much indeed here in the so-called "western world." Knowledge at our fingertips, choices, choices, choices.

May we choose well in our daily lives so that we can bless ourselves and others.

One more day left in 2009

And I still have my last few days in England in September to complete. I hope to do that tomorrow. For now, though, I will just post a photo from Halloween in AZ with my grandchildren. Somehow I skipped posting at the end of October.

I decided to dress as Elphiba (sp?) from Wicked because I'd enjoyed the show so much and I took one of the songs she sang "Defying Gravity," as my mantra during my trip to England this summer. So, here I am with my beautiful granddaughter. After seeing myself with black hair, I was tempted to hit the hair dye, thinking that it made me look younger. Then I realized the amount of maintenance that would involve as well as having to keep painting my face green and all the heavy makeup. So I will remain grey :)

At the beginning of December I was back in AZ enjoying my granddaughter's first ballet performance in The Nutcracker. She played two parts--one of the children at the party at Clara's house and then one of the bonbons who emerges from Mother Ginger's skirts. She did very well at both performances and was so happy. Here's her big grin after the first performance.

We had a very quiet Christmas this year. Moved out of Flame's house on December 24th and we both collapsed on Christmas Eve. I gave dh a box of chocolates and he gave me one too. Plus I received a box of Walkers shortbread biscuits from Sheila in England. I will need to do some serious hiking and healthy eating next week to regain my girlish figure! I did have my annual view of "Scrooge, A Christmas Carol" with Alistair Sim. I think I have watched that film over 40 times as I have seen it almost every year since I was 10. I never tire of it though. Didn't watch Miracle on 34th Street this year though nor It's a Wonderful Life.

And, the next to last day of the year, we have finally stopped living in other people's houses, among other people's stuff and are settling into a condo. Here is a photo of our fireplace and the chair in which, just prior to my getting up to take this photo, I was sitting and typing out this blog on my laptop. I took the photo with my Blackberry and somehow it's come out quite grainy. But it still reflects the feeling of warmth and contentment that I have right now. We don't have much more furniture than this at present--it's still in Las Vegas--but I am so very grateful for what we do have. And I am glad that I put up my Christmas trees. I bought the taller one last week on sale just before Christmas and the small one in the photo is a wooden "Advent tree" that I bought in Vancouver several years ago. It has 24 small wooden figures and miraculously I haven't lost any of them in all the moves. The boat that is sailing in front of the fire is one that I bought for dh in Cornwall--I have yet to post my blog for the three days I spent in Cornwall in December; that is what I hope to do tomorrow but I will put the blog in chronological order so look for it labeled "September 15-17."

For now, though, I reflect on all of my Christmases past, and my Christmas present. I hope, like Scrooge that I have more Christmases to come and that, like him, I will keep Christmas in my heart. And, to end tonight's post, a photo of some special people with whom I shared many Christmases

Christmas 1994. From left to right, my late stepmother, late father, my honorary sister in law, my late honorary grandma Dooley, me (yep, brown hair), my stepsister in law, my daughter, my niece and my stepbrother. What wonderful Christmases we had in Ottawa!

I hate photocopiers

I always approach photocopiers with fear. From my very first experience as a young, 50 dollar-a-week typist, who snarled up the office photocopier so badly that the technician had to be called, to my most recent this week as a substitute teacher, they have humiliated me. They have spat back at me, resisted my efforts to coax mangled bits of important documents out of their jaws, and sat in stony silence when I was rushing to meet deadlines. Yes I hate them and, like a dog who senses fear from a stranger, they seem to bristle at my approach.

My worst experience with that infernal invention was when I was beautifully dressed for a presentation at a large college store I managed. The dress was a particular favorite; my sister had willed it to me. As she was dying she had said, “Look, I just spent $1,000 on new clothes before I got ill. I really would rather have you wear the duds than have them donated to Goodwill and have some bimbo wearing them.” My sister was practical and opinionated, even in her waning days. So I picked through her closet and this dress immediately caught my eye. A soft pearl grey cotton with tiny white dots. Big puffy sleeves, a narrow self-belted waist and gored skirt. When I put it on I felt a little of my sister’s fairy princess magic; she had always been the blonde Cinderella while I had clumped along behind her like one of the ugly stepsisters.

So there I was that morning in my Cinderella mode, about to go and wow them (I hoped) at a motivational breakfast. First, however, I had to copy my speech notes; Cinderella still had chores to do before she could go to the ball. I hurried into the copy room. This was not going to be a difficult encounter, I told myself. No single sided to double sided, no collating or stapling. Just three little pages. I loaded the feeder and pressed the button. Silence. No whirring, no papers moving. I looked at the display message, “Put toner in.” Toner, oh great. I looked at the sheets; was there a way I could get around this? But, no, to give a professional presentation, I needed handouts. So I reached for the bottle of black dust, opened the drawer and uncapped the bottle. Whether the machine really did have a malevolent spirit, I don’t know. I don’t really know what happened in the next few moments. All that I do know is that the bottle tipped forward and the black dust scattered all over the front of my lovely dress, all over my hands. And, like Cinderella in front of the fireplace, I was no longer ready for the ball. I looked every inch the scullery maid and my dress was ruined. And the photocopier settled back, satisfied that it had once again put me in my place.

It isn't very often that my hiking group has a Saturday hike; they mostly hike on Sundays and as we go to church on Sundays and then try to spend the day quietly, we don't go. But this week Dave arranged a Saturday hike as we hadn't had a gentle midweek one. And I was pleased that dh agreed that he'd go. Dh hasn't hiked with me in a long time; he says that I am in too good a shape for him and he normally doesn't like hiking with other people. So I half expected him yesterday morning to say that he'd changed his mind but, no, he did come along and here's the

photo to prove it: The hike attracted a large group, larger than Dave had expected I think. In all, we had 27 people spread over 5 cars. As the parking lot at the trailhead was already full, it was quite the process to unload the cars and then have the drivers drive back along the narrow dirt road looking for a place where they could pull off the side. But it was actually accomplished with a minimum of fuss and off we went antlike along the trail. It was a gorgeous day: blue, blue sky, temp aroud 65º until we got down close to the stream and the actual waterfall where, as you can see from the snow in the next photo, it was still cold.

There were even smatterings of snow along the path and by the waterfall. It took us about an hour of leisurely hiking along a fairly level path--with occasional stepping back and forth across the stream--to arrive at the waterfall. Dave said it was about 2.5 miles to the waterfall; some of the group elected to continue along farther but that was going to mean some uphill climbing so 11 of us decided that we'd had enough for the day. So after a 20-minute break, we turned around and retraced our path through the woods. I got to be the "tail"--meaning I stayed at the back ensuring we didn't lose anyone. That enabled dh and I to amble along at our own pace although Claire, a young woman I'd met on a previous hike, dropped back and walked along with me, chatting about what she was thinking of doing with her life now that she'd graduated and had arrived in Santa Fe from Maryland. It was fun sharing ideas with her. I was also glad to be working my legs and glutes; I seem to have acquired two extra pounds these past couple of weeks. If they're going to stick around, I'd rather they did so as muscle.

First hike in the snow this Fall

Woke up this morning to the sound of rain beating on the roof. I listened to the radio and the weather forecast was for rain/snow here in Santa Fe, the temp only being about 35º. So I pulled out my warm hiking clothes--long-sleeved spandex shirt, waterproof pants, fleece hoodie, smartwool socks. But what jacket to wear? My warmer jacket has lost some of its water shedding ability--I need to NikWax it. So I decided on my unlined but waterproof jacket that I wore all summer and stuffed an extra sweater in my backpack in case I felt cold (and I did at the start of the hike.) My waterproof hiking boots and mittens completed my attire. Brewed up a thermos of herbal tea, had a breakfast of a peanut butter and apple butter sandwich and I sprinted out to the car; it's a half hour drive from where I live to where we were meeting up for the hike.

Three of the people who had signed up for the hike chickened out so that left Dave, myself and a new arrival in Santa Fe, Claire. Dave decided we would hike the Little Tesuque to Big Tesque trail. We've done the area a few times before but Dave always manages to find new trails for us to explore. When we arrived at the trailhead it was snowing hard--fluffy flakes--but there was no wind so that it wasn't too cold. Still my fingers were tingling in my mittens; I have yet to find a pair of gloves or mittens that keep my hands warm at the start of any hike. I usually have the tingles for the first 20 minutes or so until the blood gets flowing down to those extremities. Claire found that her hiking poles wouldn't lock so Dave found a couple of branches for her:

As she was also recovering from a hip injury, Dave modified his usual pattern of lots of hill climbing, something I was very grateful for as I huff and puff on hills. Still, the beginning of the Tesuque hike always involves about 20 minutes of gradual ascent.

This is a fence line that's become very familiar to me; I always feel relieved when we get to it because I know that the trail is going to flatten out for at least half an hour.

Toward the end of the hike Dave had me take the lead, saying that I would be able to pick the trail out. And I was, even with the snow on the ground. Maybe I will graduate to being a hike leader within this coming year!

October 21st A golden Fall

I am now back in New Mexico. Don't know how long I'll be here but, oh well, I've come to terms with that over the past week of heavy soul searching. So while I am here I am going to enjoy it with my weekly hikes up into the mountains.

Having grown up in the East, I remember magnificent Fall colours. Reds and deep greens and golds. Here in this part of the Southwest though, we have the aspen. I do believe they give the maples a run for their money. Take a look at these photos and tell me if you agree:

Someone on a hike last week said that she thought of the sky here in Santa Fe as "our ocean." I think that's very apt. While I sometimes miss the sound of waves crashing against rocks, there is a similar feeling of spaciousness, of timelessness looking up at our amazing sky. The midday color, that blinding blue. The cloud formations. The "dry rain" that is called virga; the moisture evaporates before it touches the ground. The evening sunsets, which are incomparably beautiful--although Arizonans would probably demur. The night sky with its thousands and thousands of stars. I remember a hike I took earlier this year--a full moon hike--where one of my fellow hikers pointed out almost every single one of the constellations that comprise the Zodiac. Wow, I had never seen that before.

There is so much to see here when I pay attention, when I am not immersed in my arguments with myself. "Be still and know that I am God"--if I place the emphasis on the pronoun "I" while saying this aloud, then all my machinations, all my worrying over making decisions, get put into perspective. "I" am not God and my creations are very small in comparison to His. I need to nurture them though and keep on creating, always being aware of what my place is in this world. A blog is a creation, relationships are creations. Dreams and worries that float away in my mind are not.

Ironically, though, after all my talk about gold and blue skies, it has been raining throughout the night and into the early morning. No virga, just honest to goodness rain that puddles on the ground. But I no longer here the "pipipipipip" on the skylights so perhaps it has stopped. The cat-who-lives-in-this-house, Flame, is lying beside me, having missed out on his usual morning poke around the back yard.

And my car sits in the driveway, the bird poop washed away (Sheila would be so pleased, she of the "bucket and soap every morning and those blasted pigeons" brigade), glistening in all its newness once again. I am not really "into" cars, not like my dh is and my dad was. This is a nice car, it performs well. But, truthfully, I'd rather have a home than a car. It was just that this was less expensive and easier to choose :) But I also want to say a quick word about our modern buying and selling and the lies that we tell one another. The car salesman told me this was a great deal. We had exchanged stories about how car salespeople cheat women and he was forewarned that I was in no mood for being shmoozed. So he didn't "shmooze" me, just told me the great things about this car and let me decide for myself. I only know certain "great things" about cars--how it drives, what the gas mileage is, does it have cruise control--just the basics and not much more than that. Dh wasn't around when I bought the car. As soon as I brought it back to Santa Fe, he immediately noticed that the back tires were different from the front. ???? Was I supposed to check that? So he called my salesman and the salesman gives this story about one back tire having had a blowout so they had to replace the other back tire as well. Dh says, why different tires and where's the warranty on the tires? Oh, said the salesman, ummm, well, we just buy tires from a tire place and I'll have to get the warranty. So on my almost-new car with 7000-odd miles, I have a pair of Michelins on the front and a pair of cheap tires on the back. Sigh. And no floor mats. Another sigh. And the CD player doesn't work properly. At least that's under warranty. What have I learned from this. Well, it's kind of like what Susan in "Miracle on 34th Street" says to Kris Kringle: "You're a very nice man, but you're not Santa Claus." Caveat emptor, buyer beware.

Sept 22nd to Sept 26th: From the Highlands to the Rockies

I arrived back in the U.S. on September 22nd. My dh met me and we immediately began driving to Alberta to visit my mil. It was a 600 mile drive in our old Toyota and we did it in about 10 hours. Jet lagged and bleary eyed, I stumbled along with dh while we visited with mil and tried to help her clear out her house. The high point of our visit, however, was a trip to Waterton Provincial Park. As I looked at these photos of the Rockies, I thought back on my trip to the Highlands in Scotland just two months before. Both places so very beautiful, similar in many ways except of course that the Rockies are much higher.

One view of Waterton Lake from the Prince of Wales Hotel.

And another view.

Sunlight dancing on Cameron Lake. Unfortunately, the sun also reflected on my camera lens. Need to learn how to compensate for that :)

Dh, mil and myself enjoying the sunshine at Cameron Lake. One of the few relaxing moments in my "re-entry" to North America. The next day we were back in the car, driving another 1300 miles in 2.5 days.

On the way, we managed to pick up a passenger, an abandoned cat that we found wandering at a scenic point at the vermilion cliffs. Didn't get a photo of the cat, but this is the area that the poor thing was abandoned in. Temperature was about 98º and she was so thin! She traveled with us all the way until we got to our dd's town in southern AZ where the animal shelter took her in, promising us that she'd be well looked after.

The three of us did see more spectacular scenery around the North Rim of the Grand Canyon though.