Arresting Beaver Work

Most Friday afternoons I go for a walk with my elderly friend (whom I've named Debbie on this blog) along the St. Jacob's Mill Race Trail. Today, while on our weekly stroll, we saw more wildlife than usual both on the water and off the water. Mallard duck pairs, half a dozen muskrats, gray and black squirrels, chickadees, and several Mr. & Mrs. Cardinal couples went about their business in our presence. 

We didn't see the beavers, but we certainly saw evidence of their work. When we slowed down to look more closely at a gnawed-up tree edging the mill race, Debbie muttered something about the shame in what the critters have been doing to the woods surrounding the path. "The beavers should be arrested for their property damage!" she declared.

I chuckled a little at her notion and we continued on our way. I think I know why she laments the destruction to the trees in that area, but I'm also fascinated by the way those creatures are only doing what God gave them the instinct to do - creating pools of water by damming up the stream so they can build their homes and protect their young more easily. 

I don't need to arrest the beavers; they've already arrested me - at least, my attention. I only wish I could see them at their work. 

A Dream Life

 

Have you ever had a dream that died? Or, rather, one that you thought had died? Have there been things that you dreamed of owning or doing that never did materialize? Weeks, months, or maybe even years of wishes, desires, and longings remaining just that, until you finally gave up on them? And it was like once they knew that you had surrendered them to unfulfillment, they quietly rolled over on their side and gave up the ghost? 

I have.

Have you ever attended the burial of a dream, grieving that you'll never encounter it again? And then, suddenly, one day much later, while you were in what you thought was a perfectly ordinary moment, suddenly there was the dream in front of you again? Clearly resurrected it was, but in a different form? Details deviating quite a lot from what you had once laid out, but at least one tiny piece of the dream come true, confirming that it is indeed the original? 

I have.

Recently, I've had three such dreams.

The first one has to do with walking. Early on in our marriage, I used to dream of going on lots of hikes with Ken. I thought that exploring rugged trails out in nature would be such a satisfying, invigorating, romantic thing to do with my new husband. But we didn't get into it much. Tramping around in some rocky, hilly place, or meandering through a leafy, muddy bush (or woods, as we call it where I come from) with really no destination in mind wasn't exactly my husband's idea of a blessed good time. We also got busy with work and raising our family and figured we didn't have a lot of time to go traipsing. Sometimes I'd want to go on a walk - just a straight walk along our side road to get some exercise - on an evening after supper and I'd invite Ken along. He'd ask if I'm going far, and I could tell that to stay on the cozy couch with a book or his phone would appeal to him much more than to put forth the effort to get up, get ready, go out, and walk for basically the anyhow of it. 

About two years ago, though, I started seeing a shift in this area. Ken made some personal goals that involved his becoming more physically active. He's taken great strides toward meeting those goals, and I'm proud of him. He purchased a fitbit type of device that tracks his progress toward his daily steps goal. He often gets in "the rest of his steps" for the day by walking after supper. Now he's the one to ask me if I'm coming on a walk with him! (I ask him if he's going far. 😉) Sometimes on a Saturday, we'll go on a long walk together. Ken enjoys Googling area trails and arranging for us to check out a place where we've never walked before. Numerous times when we're out in nature exploring a new trail, I think about my hiking dream and how it's been resurrected and fulfilled, mostly in ways I never expected.

The second dream has to do with a little cabin in the woods. In the second year of our marriage, we moved to the place where we still live, and I loved the sprawling acreage around us on Ken's parents' farm. In the large bush (remember, think big wooded area and not huge shrub) behind our place, there were plenty of spots that I thought would be ideal for us to make a clearing in which to enjoy campfires and picnics out in the wild. I dreamed of putting up a cabin nearby. This small structure would be simple, but cute and cozy. It would be a place for storing camping and picnic gear, a place to sit near (or on the porch of) and observe nature, a place of retreat for someone wishing to meditate and write in a quiet, peaceful setting. 

My husband holds many wonderful titles, but Designer and Builder are not among them. So technically he was not a resource for consideration in taking my cabin visions and building them into reality. Instead, we purchased a nice little garden shed to situate in our backyard. It houses our camping and picnic gear, among a host of other items. I learned that one can observe nature while doing other activities such as working in the garden, hanging up laundry outside, or driving somewhere in the car. Most of the quiet, peaceful places I have found in which to write have not been in the woods. 

Eventually, I forgot about my dream cabin in the woods. Until one day this fall, when Ken and I went on a walk in our bush. We wanted to check out a log cabin that our Old Order Mennonite neighbor had described and urged us to visit. His eyes had sparkled as he spoke of the little cabin that he had promised his grandchildren he would help them to build this summer. They planned the right location for it, used logs straight from the bush for it, put a proper roof on it, and all. He had ended up having so much fun, he "kinda got carried away with the whole thing."

And we surely could see what he meant, when Ken and I found the log cabin in the woods. What a fascinating work of art nestled in a peaceful clearing in the woods. We sat on a bench near the cabin to survey the scene. Birds flitted about the feeders overhead as we admired the neatly-chinked log structure from the outside and then opened the two-part front door with the fancy metal latches to go inside the cabin. "There's even a bed in here," Ken said to me, as we looked around the interior. "Hey, we should overnight in here sometime!" And just like that, my cabin-in-the-woods dream flashed into my mind, dancing and alive as ever. "Really?" I breathed. "I would love that!"

The third dream involves a room in our basement. After our two sons got married and moved out of our house into homes of their own, I'd sometimes go into their empty bedroom downstairs and dream about what could be done with that extra space. I ponder-prayed over that room, asking God what He had in mind even as I imagined a retreat sort of place, a haven where someone might come for a few days to rest in body and soul, or a place where I could meet with a friend to hear her heart. I pictured conversation, prayer, blessing and encouragement happening in that room. Over the past few years, I didn't see the specifics of that dream come true, although we hosted overnight guests in the room from time to time. 

This past spring, our son Rolin got the idea to start a podcast called Everyday Expertise. He planned to invite a different guest on each week and record a conversation with them about their area of expertise. Rolin asked us if he could set up his recording equipment in his old room in our basement and we readily granted him permission to do that. Now he hangs out here in his recording studio a few hours each week. 

Soon after Rolin had produced the first several episodes of his show, he started bugging me to be a guest for an episode. My immediate response was no, that I'm much more cut out for writing than for podcast speaking, especially on his podcast because he likes the conversation to be at least an hour long, and preferably two. Over the next months Rolin alternated between subtly hinting and outright asking me if I'd changed my mind yet, and I kept saying I'm not ready. 

Finally, I decided to face my fears regarding speaking on the podcast, and I ended up promising Rolin I'd be a guest on his show. I decided to talk about creativity in my life, especially in the area of writing. The morning of Nov 20 found me heading to our basement for an appointment with Rolin in his studio. I was both nervous and excited. Before we began recording the interview, Rolin led out in a prayer asking God to direct our thoughts and to bless our conversation. I echoed his words in my heart - a longing to be able to encourage every listener in some small way. And right there was the room-dream in front of me, rather odd-shaped and wrapped in different paper than I had imagined, but a lovely gift nonetheless. 

What revived dreams have surprised you lately?

Note: If you'd like to access the above-mentioned podcast episode, click on this link. In my next blog post, I will feature the poem, "Autographed", that came up in my conversation with Rolin. 

For You, Mom

Since today is Mother’s Day and since it is also close to the anniversary date of my first mom’s Homegoing, I will dedicate this post to the memory of Mom-Eva. She passed away from cancer twenty-four years ago this month. I’ve been thinking a lot about her these days.

Much of this post consists of photos that I took recently of things that make me think of her. I shot a number of these pics when I went on a walk in the woods this week. The names and features of the flowers and birds in the photos I learned from Mom when I was a child. Mom would have enjoyed going on that walk with me, and I would have loved to have her along. I miss you, Mom-Eva!

This Post’s Quotables:

Here are a few expressions and exclamations that come to mind when I recall Mom-Eva quotes.

        “All good things take time” (said especially in regards to us children dating and her not wanting us to be in too much of a hurry to get married)

        “La, ti, do!” or “This day do I remember my faults.” (scolding herself when she pulled a blooper)

        “Let’s pray about it.”

     “We all have to fight our own lazies.”

       “Step up and help with the dishes.” (someone who could "see work" - a character quality highly praised by Mom - wouldn’t need to be told this)

This Post’s Childhood Memory:

While Mom-Eva was ambitious and no-nonsense in so many ways - to a fault, at times - she allowed for leisure and fun, too. It still rather surprises me that she allowed my twin and me to play with her hair once in a while. She would sit and read a book by the light of the living room lamp, and we were allowed to unpin her covering, undo her little hair bun by pulling out the hairpins and un-tucking the brown holey hairnet, remove several bobby pins that were holding her two front hair “swoops” in place on either side of the “part” down the middle of head, and brush out the short and rather thin locks. I still remember the oily, shampoo-ey smell of her hair. Sometimes, we’d re-comb her hair and try to put it up again exactly like Mom did, and sometimes we were silly and put our own colorful barrettes at odd places in her hair or made funny little braids haphazardly over her head. She’d smile indulgently when we’d stand back and giggle at the effects. I wonder if she was conscious then of the connection she was building with us in those moments.

In what ways did your Mom connect with you when you were a child?