It's the Joy in Your Heart

Today I am grateful for the joy I've felt throughout my life on this planet.

I, the grace blocker

I've been stuck at the letter "i" since the 14th. This is three days I've been thinking about things I am grateful for that begin with "i". Ink, because I love books. Invisibility, because I love magic. Irises. 

So, today, I am grateful for "I". I am grateful that I am me, and that I am someone I can actually get along with. 

I'm grateful that I've always been me, from the time I first remember, right up to this very minute.

Grateful for Home

Home is where the heart is. Over the years, we have built a few homes here and there. I've had the pleasure of learning how to build, alongside my husband. I've knocked down stone walls, built them up, placed large chestnut beams, tiled floors, and watched him work wonders with plumbing, electricals and the less fun side of building, like drywall and plaster. I'm not so great at masonry but it just takes practice.

Home is also the smell of baked bread, laughter, the wood stove, everyone yelling at each other, music, babies crying, the silence when everyone is asleep except for a newborn and a suckling mother, the ringing of phones and excitement when a big family visit is planned.

We've had big fights at home. We've cried, been desperate, lost people, broken things, had bad things happen. But its still our home, and I am so grateful to have one.

G for Grace

Yes, G is for grace, goodness, god, garrulousness and granola. But today I am grateful for Geese. Growing up in Canada is pretty special. Although I was born in the tropics, I spent my childhood in view of the Rockies, but as soon as I could leave Cowtown I did and travelled all across this large country, marvelling at its distances and bare bones beauty. One place that always took forever to get through was Ontario, with its lakes, forests, dirty towns, space station landscapes, and those big old birds.

When you see the geese in March you know that the season that smells like dog shit is upon us. Spring in most of Canada is a tortuous affair, where small flowers creep out of the snowy ground and blind you with their bright determination to be alive. The geese have increased in population recently, but they still fly south in the fall and north in the spring.

When I had a farm, we had a filthy pond where the geese lived. Family myths among the kids grew in that pond, daring rescues from near-drowning. When we would argue, which was often back then, the geese would take up the spirit of the screaming match and they would start to holler too. The kids tell me now they were afraid of the geese, but I never was. They knew I had the upper hand, in the form of a rope and a sharp knife. Mama kills.

Our geese on the farm were big and white, with bright orange feet and beaks, not like the dark and smaller Canada geese of our home.

Grateful for F for Friends

I am very grateful today for my friends. I've had friends my whole life, but I remember the very first moment I made a friend. It was when I was four, and Pam Rothenberg lived two houses over. She became my best friend for a few years.

Just to spread the love, I will include some friend pictures. My best friend is in quite a few of the images - we've been friends for over thirty years. If any friend reads this blog and you don't see your picture - come by and visit and we will do selfies. I love you!

March Gratitude the Fifth Day

I am grateful for many things the begin with "e": elephants, eggs, eggplants, endings, energy, and so on. But today I am particularly grateful for Egypt.

In a metaphorical sense, Egypt was always the place of slavery that the chosen people escaped from. I feel very uncomfortable with the concept of "chosen people" so I don't really like to think that one through much. But I do like the idea of moving away from a place of slavery. And I love the story of the midwives who continued to accompany mothers through birth, and chose not to follow the law that required them to kill the male babies.

But in my own story, Egypt was a wonderful place. We landed up in Cairo after a rather disastrous "meet the family" episode in Israel. I realized that I might be forever entwined with a narcissist, but I didn't realize it consciously so I tried to be polite. Cairo was full, smoky, sweaty, smelly. It was lovely. It evoked everything. We were only there on our way south, but Sudan was proving difficult to go to, so we stayed in Egypt for six weeks while we waited for visas. We stayed in Cairo for a while, in an awful decrepit "guest house".  Poets, drug addicts and travellers hung out there, waiting for the next adventure.

We went to see the pyramids. Some women gave us fresh pita they'd cooked on the walls of their bread oven. Then we went into the Sahara. I remember at a truck stop, we sat on a bench and waited while the men prayed. The call to prayer was coming from a little transistor radio. A dog was chained to a tree. The sun was light blue.

We were dropped off at an intersection by a gravel pit. The truck left as the sun was setting. The old man who guarded the two huts gave my husband a big rock to put on the inside of our door, in case he tried to come in during the middle of the night after me.

We made some friends in Assiut, where we had to go because I had caught a terrible desert cold. We spent every day together, from early in the morning until very late at night.

I am grateful for the fact that I have those memories of travelling the world, together with my love, and that I can remember Egypt and the desert and the prayers and the minarets and the hash and the sun and the cold and the striped cucumbers and the sweet oranges.

Day Four Alphabet Gratitude

Today was a hard day to be grateful. I struggled with making sense of the fact that I have created a life where I cannot do what I am best at - midwifery. So, I have a kickass cafe, where parents and their children (and everyone else!) feel welcome and comfortable and eat the best food in town. And I teach. But it hurts when I am in a birthing room and I can't do my thing.

Today I am grateful for Dogs. This may sound too corny but let me explain: I have three scary stories to tell about dogs.
One: I was sitting pretty in my mother's womb, all excited about being born, with my head nicely flexed and pointing towards the ground, when suddenly my mother made a movement in the air as she was speaking to her ultra racist colonial neighbor (think Uganda in the 1950's), and the dog he was holding jumped at my mother's arm and wouldn't let go. Dog was killed, I flipped breech and refused to turn, my mother had a horrific scar on her arm until the day she died.
Two: Fast forward 18 months. I am playing with Skippy, my grandma's dog. Grandma throws a ball and Skippy and I run for it. Skippy wants it badly, so he bites my head. I have a large scar on my head to this day, where no hair can grow.
Three: Fourteen years later, I am in Calgary, walking from the bus stop after attending a rock concert. The windows of perception had been thoroughly cleansed and I was enjoying my walk across the baseball field. The moon was full, the snow was deep with a thick layer of ice. Life was good. Suddenly four large dogs appeared and circled me. I was terrified. I stood still and slowly started to spin around. I glared at them and without making a sound I willed them to go away. They did.

Six months after my mother died, my son really really wanted a dog (not connected realities for him). We went to the SPCA and got a puppy. See above. She has cured me of fear. She's always happy to see me. She never complains. She is honest, kind, and always ready for fun. She brings me her disgusting rag when I'm feeling sad. She never lies. She feels bad when she does something wrong. She is uninhibited.

Now I'm a dog person and these are random canines (and human) who are also part of our extended family.