Renovations Part III

Well, what a disaster we had here the week before last! I am now sufficiently recovered to talk about it. Only just!
We were installing ceramic tile in our kitchen. Peter and I (yes, we're still married!) did it ourselves, with a little help from our boys. We were SO careful about how we spread the adhesive, only applying enough to lay a tile or two at a time. We stayed off the tile for the requisite 24 hours, then I applied the grout. Oooh, that's messy! Like making mud pies.
We applied the last of the grout on Thursday, the day before we were expecting four guests - the Face to face team - for a parish retreat. By the end of Thursday and all through Friday, it was becoming very apparent that many of our tiles were not sticking, some of them were cracking, and the grout was crumbling. Since we were having company and I was helping to run this retreat, we had to leave everything for Monday, and I had to put my oven back so that I could actually cook something for somebody.
While this was going on, we were also looking for a new vehicle. For the past couple of months we have been borrowing vehicles every time we've gone out - shopping, to Karate, voice lessons, Mass, piano lessons, etc. Peter made a deal on a suburban from Saskatoon through a dealer in Swift Current. "Yes, we have an eight-seater for you. Yes, you can come and pick it up on Thursday." So in the midst of everything at home (oh, did I mention calving?) Peter's brother John made a special trip to Swift Current to drop us off at the Dealers so we could drive our new suburban home.
John took off, then we discovered our suburban was a 7-seater. We have to have an 8-seater so we can take Peter's parents with us sometimes. Peter had to go and tell the salesman that 7 and 8 are not the same thing and 7 won't do. Unfortunately, our dealer was not there. We managed to get ahold of John, who was on his way home already, and ask him to come back to get us. As a result, a quick trip to drop us off turned into a day-long shopping trip for him, since we had a "few things to pick up."
We got home safely, our company arrived and we had a lovely visit - until the plumbing backed up. Oh yes, it did. What a mess!
We had to tell our guests "Sorry, no showers, and please don't flush the toilets anyone."
Happily, we were out of the house all day Saturday, and didn't need the plumbing. Peter got to stay home from the retreat and scour the countryside for an available lagoon-pumping person. (What do you call those?) Eventually, our lagoon got pumped out, the plumbing was back to normal, and we all had a good weekend, except maybe Peter.
Then, on Monday, the car salesman, who was feeling somewhat remiss, replaced the back bucket seats with a bench, thus turning a 7-seater into an 8, and sent two of his employees to Fox Valley to deliver said vehicle in person.
All's well that ends well, eh?
Now, if only we can fix the floor. . .

We're off and running!

Well, the bedrooms are done, except for the trim - baseboards, etc. Yahoo!
Now all we have to do is move the washer and drier downstairs, make our old laundry room into a storage room, rebuild the roof supports in the space above the garage and build new bedrooms in there, then build our "shop" in the present garage. We want our new shop to be a place where the boys can build things, we can set up our ping pong table and Peter can work on projects. Having all the boys home during the day is wonderful, but it requires a little more space. Our house would probably be adequate if they were going to school.
Unfortunately, everyone's run out of gas after this last stint, so I'm not sure how to get us up and running again. Maybe a whip? Hmmm...
Oh I forgot, we also got ceramic tile for the kitchen floor. Our old vinyl tile is worn right through in places.
Hopefully, with the proper inspiration (see whip above) we can get all this done before we hand down the house to our sons. (except for the trim.)

Let There Be Pieces (and Peace, too)

This year for our last-minute pre-Christmas project, we thought we'd finish the basement bedrooms and paint the boys' bedroom upstairs, then shuffle all the boys around so they all come out with one bed each. Sounds simple, doesn't it?
Our older two boys have been helping and have actually done the painting in their own rooms, and our third son has helped with all the painting in his room also. Peter's in charge of finishing closets and ceilings, and my official position, though I have helped a little with painting, has been that of "Stuff Manager."
We removed all the "stuff" from all three bedrooms, and I have it carefully organized in the family room downstairs. However, it did not all fit in there (some of it was falling out) so I began to surreptitiously add pieces of "accent furniture", such as night tables, chairs and double beds to the livingroom and kitchen. This is a kitchen that already has one church organ too many!
It's all very organized. I know just what I'm going to say at midnight on Christmas Eve when we are setting up the bedrooms. "Dearest, where did you put the screws for the light switch covers for Davy's bedroom?" I'll say, "They're on the bookshelves." "And where are the bookshelves?" "They're in the back corner of the family room under the double bed mattress and drum set."
One would only hope it could be the drum set which will get lost and not the bolts for somebody's bed!
God bless you all with a very happy Christmas and New Year - think of us and count your blessings! I had better get back to work.

Gone all yin and yangsy!

That's right - we're into Karate now. I bought uniforms for Daniel and David, who are our karate enthusiasts, and got them home only to discover the yin and yang sign on the fronts. I was panicking for a while because I wasn't sure that would be an excellent Christian witness, but have been assured by several people whom I trust that the yin and yang are from a Chinese philosophy, not a religion, and that there doesn't need to be any religious significance attached unless we make it so.
We love the Karate lessons, though. I was even thinking about taking part myself, except I'm afraid I might have a coronary after five minutes. They have to do about 50 situps and crunches all together, except if you lean on the wall of the "dojo" - then you have to do 30 more. The instructors are very kind and helpful, except for their penchant for situps, and our boys are really enjoying the workout.
So, the next time you see us watch out for your knees. Hi-ya!

Trivial Pursuit

I just about live for Mondays. Well, maybe that is a little bit of an exaggeration, but I do quite look forward to Mondays. The reason is that every Monday, 4marks.com comes out with a new Catholic trivia contest and I always try out. There are always 40 questions and they're often related to the season of the church year. The quicker you answer the questions, the more points you get, too, so my nerves are a little on edge until I hear my weekly verdict. If a person completes the contest early on Monday, he or she could find him or herself in the top 40, or even the top 10. After that, of course, more people than 40 or 10 have participated in the contest and one tends to slide down in the chart through the course of the week. I actually came in first once, all week long, but usually I have to content myself with finishing in the top 100.
Besides the trivia contest, 4marks.com has ongoing catechism classes. It's a great website for all who teach catechism.

The Running of the Bulls (Fox Valley)

I headed out for my daily walk yesterday. As I was walking through the farmyard my little niece, Olivia called out to ask if she could come with me. This four-year-old has my sixteen-year-old son, Daniel, in tow just about constantly when she visits the farm. Yesterday they were out in the "fort" building a house for Olivia when I happened along.
I was a little reluctant to take her along because, well, I need the exercise and I didn't think having a little one along would permit me to go my usual speed. However I found it difficult to explain that to her, and, in the end, I invited both Olivia and Daniel to come with me.
Whoa! Olivia ran just about all the way. Did I mention, it's about a mile to the end of the road?
The only break she took was when Daniel whisked her up and spun her in the air a couple of times.
It's very sweet to me to see those two spending time together. A most unlikely pair, in a way.
We got almost to the end of the road when we looked up and noticed four bulls running in our direction. So, just like that we turned and started running in the opposite direction back to the farmyard. Just like Pamplona! We didn't actually stand a chance of beating the bulls there. Well, maybe Daniel and Olivia could, but not this old lady! Shortly however, my husband Peter drove up in the truck and drove us back to the yard where we opened the gate for the bulls and waited to usher them into the pasture.
This was one of those ordinary things that happen, that turn into a big adventure without any planning on my part. I almost missed out on it by saying "No" to Olivia.

Charity

I thought since my last blog was a little negative, I would like to recount some examples of real charity, as opposed to niceness. I have to say I am all for charity, if anyone wonders.
Charity is a Catholic priest who flies from Denver just about once a month to do retreats and camps even when only 20 boys or fewer show up.
Charity is Mother Teresa, who, unbeknownst to many, was dizzy-sick because of heart trouble for many of those years she picked up people dying of leprosy on the streets of Calcutta. She also spent from 10 p.m. until 2 a.m. or so walking by herself through the streets of Rome when she had been at meetings all day, just to see if she could find anyone who needed help.
Charity is another priest who spent the last two years of his life wearing disguises and hiding from the police in order to bring Holy Communion and other sacraments to people in Communist Mexico, until he was executed on a trumped charge.
Charity is the mother of 12 children, who doesn't get much sleep, or any time to herself, and yet remains cheerful and manages to speak and listen to each child as though he or she were the most precious person on earth.
Charity is the Grandma, who, when she does finally have time to rest, chooses instead to look after her grandchildren occasionally to give mom a break.
Charity is John Paul II, who forgave the man who tried to assassinate him - no, not just forgave, but sat close to him and heard his confession, shielding the man from the camera as he spoke; also who, when urged by many to retire, chose to "stay on the cross" with Jesus. I don't think he ever had one day in all his adult life when he could just say "Think I'll go golfing!" He did exercise sometimes, in order to remain healthy so that he could do everything he had to do. By the way, the personal income of a pope is 0
Charity is the artist and writer and musician who creates something beautiful for God, even if no one else will ever see it.
This is what I would like to do - to learn to be charitable. There is a difference between that and niceness.

This is nice!

One of the facets of being 50-ish is that some persons lose all concern about what others think. I've noticed myself becoming a little teeny weeny bit abrasive on occasion and, yes, we should probably do something about that.
At the same time, one of the things I've been running into recently, is a tenet which many people seem to treat as Holy Writ. It's the eleventh commandment - Thou shalt be nice.
I'm going to be politically incorrect and say "ptuii!"
Are "niceness" and charity synonymous?
I have some dear friends here who are not Christian. They belong to a different world religion altogether, but they are often saying that for them, it's enough if a person is nice and easy to get along with. That's all that matters. But Jesus said "You must be perfect to get to Heaven." Was He kidding, or exaggerating or something? I believe that many people all over the world get to Heaven by doing their best, even if they have never heard of Jesus. That is not the same thing. There are many people who have heard the Truth, but do not stand up for it, do not proclaim it, pretend that it's more important to get along with everyone than to help people to see the Truth. Someone said there's a problem with having a mind so open that all one's brains are falling out.
First, is there a God? Then, is there a Heaven? Then, if we know there is, does charity require us to tell people about it? If people disagree, should we then say "Well, it doesn't matter if it's not your truth?" How can something be my truth and not be your truth?
I know what Uncle Digory would say.*


*This is a reference to The Magician's Nephew, by C.S. Lewis "Logic - what do they teach in these schools!"

I'm in Roller-blader heaven!

Well, the road crew has pulled out of Fox Valley and all the other kinds of wheels are moving in: cars ripping around driven by those who would like to decorate the streets with skid marks, bicyclists, and roller-bladers. David and his cousin Rebecca have been roller-blading all over town having a whale of a time. Now there are several parking lots, countless driveways, as well as streets and sidewalks for a person with wheels - even Mrs. Dirk is no doubt having fun with her electric go-kart.
Hmmm . . . maybe I'll even take up roller-blading. . .

getting a facelift!

Not me - Fox Valley.
A year or so ago, our village council decided to re-do Fox Valley. New pavement on all streets, new parking lots, new sidewalks and boulevards everywhere.
The road crew and the curb crew have been busy for the past few days. They actually weren't both supposed to be working at once, but somebody got held up, so now they have to negotiate with one another about where to work next. It's impossible to get there from here in Fox Valley right now. I was at Mass with the boys the other day and Elena invited us over for coffee. So, I got into the van and drove around and around for twenty minutes and ended up parking by the swimming pool, even further away than I had been when I was in the church parking lot. However, I found some shade at the swimming pool. Later in the day when we were in town again, the boys asked if we could drop something off at the cousins' house. We drove back and forth for a while and decided it wasn't worth the attempt to get there.
This will all be worth it, though, when the streets and sidewalks are all done. You'll have to come by for a tour!

They're doing What in Where???

On Sunday, we went to visit the Cypress Vineyards. Marty and Marie Bohnet are the proprietors, who got the dream, several years ago to start a vineyard and winery in Saskatchewan. They live quite close to the entrance of Fort Walsh and so are hoping to take advantage of the tourists who pass by their gates.
What a beautiful set-up they have! When we visited them a couple of years ago, they had planted two large vineyards of grapes, and had experimented for many years with wine-making, but there was nothing else there except bush, hills and space. Now they have a beautiful bistro, a creek with waterfall, bridges, deck, and plants and an awesome view to boot. In the bistro itself, there are several varied seating arrangements. There are tables, but there are also sofas beside a fireplace, and lots of big windows. There's a large counter or bar where you stand and sample a small amount of all the wines they have available. We sampled rhubarb, sour cherry, saskatoon and grape wine. There are a number of shelves of articles for sale, and many bottles of wine they made. They're hoping to make mead, and have available grape plants to sell. They actually have the grape plants, but they haven't quite got them moved to a spot near their sales area yet.
They've only been open for two weeks, and they've been busy every day. I wish them all the best.

Oh, the rural life!

I've mentioned before our penchant for being unwelcoming, when our son built a cannon from some old scrap metal and parked it on the front lawn. That was when we were missing a front step.
Today the problem would be that we have a dead rat on the front lawn. I thought since I have four sons and I am perfectly willing to clean up Everything Else, I would leave the dead rodents for them.
Okay,I said, I have two little girl piano students coming this afternoon, and the dead rat needs to be gone by then.
Fortunately I have a gallant and brave husband, who doesn't relish taking care of these things, but does it anyway. I hope our dog survives this latest threat to her security. She is the one responsible for delivering these "trophies" to our front lawn. More than once, Peter has said "It's that dog!" She brings legs of deer, cattle, and various indistinguishable body parts to us regularly. Most of these things, the boys will clean up, but rats are where they draw the line.

Is there anyone out there in cyberspace who doesn't mind things like this? There could be money in it for you!

Is chivalry just mostly dead?

Being somewhat out of commission has had its benefits. While I rest my back, I marvel at the willingness with which our boys have taken up the housework gauntlet and run with it. The older two have been washing and drying all the clothes, the younger two are sorting clean laundry, and they've all helped with dishes and tidying and vacuuming. When I go to fetch my boots, there's nearly always someone ready to pull them on for me, and the boys all rush to my side to help me across icy patches.
Nowadays in the world, it seems so very difficult for men to be chivalrous. I mean, if they should attempt it, they are apt to get a fist in the eye from the lady recipient of their deed. It takes a much braver man than usual to be a knight in shining armor. Not only the dragon to contend with...
The other day I was venturing across the icy church parking lot when two of the boys came up, one on either side, to lend me an arm, and a third boy, finding he was too late to help, decided to hold up my "train." (er, coat-tail) I felt royal, even though it probably didn't really look like I imagined it to look.
I'm very glad chivalry is not dead.

Curious Justin Goes to the Hospital

I spent the night before last in the hospital with Justin. We never dreamt when we took him to Maple Creek on Friday to get his eyes and ears checked that the doctor would want to keep him there overnight. He had been complaining for a few days of a bad headache, off and on, and I noticed a slight temperature in the evenings. He felt quite nauseous sometimes, too, so we suspected an ear infection or something.
As it turned out, his throat was infected. The doctor said he might just have had a headache because of the cold he had had, but he was wanting to be careful in case it was a more serious infection, so he wanted to put him on antibiotics intravenously right away.
One of the first things they did on his arrival at the hospital was to give him a gravol shot in the you-know-where to settle his stomach. That was rather painful. Then they put the needle in his left hand for the intravenous, and that didn't work, so they had to do it again in his right hand. After he got all hooked up and named his IV stand "Johnny" ,(please don't take any offence, anybody) he felt quite well. Then we had our usual bedtime routine of prayers and reading, and as he drifted off to sleep, he said "This is so much fun..."
In the children's ward in Maple Creek, they have a whole suite of rooms - the bedroom, where there was just room for him and me; the library, with a table, chairs, and a bunch of books; and the tv room, with Nintendo. We did the rounds quite a few times the next morning while we waited for the doctor to come and tell him he's fine.
Really, the only severe hardship in the whole thing was that McLanes were visiting at the farm and we were missing them. Fortunately, we did get to see them Saturday night and Sunday.
Justin's been enjoying telling everyone about his hospital stay ever since.

Authoship of the aforementioned

Raymond was asking about the authorship of "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence" and I was going to just comment that the authorship seems uncertain. In my hymnbook, it says the text is from the Liturgy of St. James, translated by Gerard Moultrie. However, since you asked about my poetry, I thought I'd let you hear some of it:

Saskatoon, Saskatoon, my beautiful hometown
Your streets are so vast
Your Co-op store is the best
Plus all the other things you have to invest.

(notice the poetic licence!)
I wrote this a few years ago.

Let all mortal flesh keep silence

Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in his hand
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth he stood,
Lord of lords in human vesture,
In the body and the blood:
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.

At his feet the six-winged seraph;
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the Presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry,
Alleluia, alleluia,
Alleluia, Lord most high!

Oh, hi!

In case any of you saw an alien in town a couple of weekends ago, it was me. I was there with my friend, Bev, attending a silent retreat at Queen's House. Once I got there I realized I would not be able to phone anybody, because I couldn't talk, until the last meal, and then it seemed too late to call around. Bev and I went together in her car.
On Sunday she phoned her daughter to say hello and her grandson asked to speak to her. Her daughter said to him "Grandma's at a silent retreat at Queen's House, she can't talk." Then her grandson said "Well...couldn't she go out to the Queen's car and talk?"
It was an excellent weekend, led by the same priest and brother who will be looking after the boys' camp next summer, so it was a good opportunity for me to meet them.

Oh, hi!

In case anybody spotted an alien in town last weekend, it was me.
I was accompanying a friend of mine from Fox Valley on a silent retreat weekend at Queen's House. I didn't phone anyone ahead of time and didn't even think till I got there that while at a silent retreat I would not be able to phone anybody. I called home just to let Peter know I made it there safely, and my voice reverberated throughout the whole building.
It was a good weekend. The legionary priest and brother who led the retreat are the same ones who will be looking after the boys' camp next summer, so it was a good opportunity for me to meet them.
Ate too much, no exercise. I could have gone for a walk on Saturday afternoon, but I was exhausted.
Fr. Shane has a very profound way of putting things. One thing he said was "When Peter ran away after Jesus' arrest, he had to run away on the feet that Jesus washed."
At the end of the weekend, I told my friend that she should just drive home without me, I needed a bit of a jog.

Organ-izing

I feel a little torn tonight. We spent the early part of the evening moving the organ from our parish church into our house. Peter's dad bought the organ to prevent it being sold on e-bay to who-knows-where, and now we get to keep it in our house. This will come in handy because I can practice it, and because our sons and nieces have expressed an interest in learning to play it.
However, I feel a little disappointed that our parish has chosen the trendier electric keyboard over a classic instrument. Sure, you can buy an organ for a song at the moment, because they are not trendy. But they are classic - a few years from now the price will likely go up again, and they will not get a song for their electric keyboard. Also, there has been more beautiful church music written for the organ than almost any other instrument. It has a long tradition in a church filled with gorgeous old hymns that ought not to be forgotten. For example:

Godhead here in hiding, Whom I do adore
Masked by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more,
See, Lord, at Thy service low lies here a heart
Lost, all lost in wonder at the God Thou Art.

by Thomas Aquinas

Now try playing that on an electric keyboard!

a true fact

We've met a few people, all from the Battlefords, and none of them related to us, who use the expression "That's a true fact!"
Seriously, though, is there such a thing as solid, universal truth. I believe there is, of course, but can it be proven or indicated by experience?
I read a book years ago called Peace Child - I don't remember the name of the author - about a missionary couple who went to Papua New Guinea to evangelize a tribe of cannibals and head-hunters. When they first told the story of the Gospel, all the men of the tribe cheered when they heard the part about Judas' betrayal. As it turned out they loved treachery - thought it was the greatest thing when they could stab someone in the back after a peace treaty. That stymied the missionaries temporarily, until one day they witnessed a ceremony they did not at first understand. The chief of the one tribe gave his firstborn son to the chief of the neighbouring tribe. When the pastor asked what it meant, he was told that this was the one act that could put an end to all treachery between the two tribes. Then he was able to teach them that Jesus is the Peace Child given by the Father to the world to make it possible for us to be at peace with the Father.
A friend asked me recently if there is universal truth, if those cannibalistic head-hunting people had any idea that the way they had been living was wrong. I wouldn't know for sure, of course, but I wonder if their former treachery would have been half so "fun" if they hadn't had some realization that it wasn't right.
Are there moral absolutes? I think, like C.S. Lewis, that even people who believe there are no moral absolutes get mighty offended if you try to steal their watch. They also have some sense that if they share their outrage with the world, most people will side with them. Moreover they sleep fairly well at night, knowing that the sweet elderly ladies next door probably won't murder them in their sleep.
Don't we all assume a basic moral code exists?