When a child is born...

This post is dedicated to my sister Pauline, 

who became a grandmother earlier this month and who 

now knows intimately, 

the vast sweeping 'rebirth' of the heart

that the process brings to bear...

I will never EVER forget the weekend of our own grandparental coronation....

Inexpressibly glorious!

Three live births in one summer weekend, and one little body laid to rest.

...followed close by even more delightful little lives entering the family flock...

Seven with three in heaven.

Awaiting one little one still in his womb.... :)

And what's a 5th birthday anyway when we have all of eternity?

I can't help it.  

I have to finish this post with the words of yet another song playing in my heart.

God of My Fathers by Andrew Peterson 

from his incredible album Counting the Stars

God of my fathers

Huddled in the harbor

Every man an ocean from his home

Their captors could not keep them

When they heard the drums of freedom

The dream of a kingdom

In a land they've never known

And God of my fathers

Strangers in this country

Pilgrims on these dusty roads

Across the great plains

In the bellies of the steel trains

To stake a new claim

In that wilderness of hope

Like my fathers I am looking for a home

Looking for a home beyond the sea

So be my God and guide me

Till I lie beneath the hills

Then let the great God of my fathers

Be the great God of my children still

God of my grandfathers

Gone these many years now

I guess they're shining like the sun

And I envision them

Grinning at the finish

And they smile and they smile,

'Cause they love to see me run

CHORUS

Now we're counting stars and counting sand

Little feet and little hands

We're counting joys

We pray you'll know them

As you knew us when you wove us

As you hold us

Hold them, please hold them

Like their father, they are looking for a home

Looking for a home beyond the sea

So be their God and guide them

Till they lie beneath these hills

And let the great God of their father

Be the great God of their children,

Let the great God of my fathers

Be the great God of my children still

Counting the Stars

You must introduce yourself to this artist, singer-songwriter, published author extraordinaire.

You must and that's that!  :)

Be blessed.

Some New Grand at Chesley

First of all, I forgot to mention how our Coffeehouse culminated, and it needs noting.

Nieces Heather and Emily had worked feverishly on knitting an afghan for Grandma in the hopes of presenting it to her with time enough to enjoy it.

That timely moment as you know, never materialized.

So instead...

It was their decision to present the blanket to her dearest friends in her memory.

The way this knitting parallel keeps springing up unexpectedly in the fabric of our lives leaves me with a great sense of wonder and gratitude.   

Like being wrapped up in a comfortable sense of the mysterious :)

Uncle Bert and Aunt Arien?  We love you too...

Two days later, as if by way of divine confirmation that ALL of life at every stage, is safely in His hands, Pauline (& Gerry) became the fourth of Mom's children to be rewarded with the crown of grandparenthood!  

Little Gideon Alexander arrived a month early and becomes the twelve great-grandchild in a growing family clan that continues to taste much undeserved goodness from a Faithful Father God.

Lindsay and Brad are the proud parents and are doing well.

The grand-parents are simply out of their minds with delight.  

Yep.

We TOTALLY get it.  

Is this little 6 pounder not the sweetest most alert preemie EVER???

First Annual Chesley Coffeehouse

Without Mom that is.

She kept the tradition running for 35 years in a row.  

As torch bearers, unwilling to let such a fine tradition die an ignoble death, we held our first Sunday Coffeehouse in her honour.  Two precious family friends, Uncle Bert & Aunt Arien from Owen Sound  (who know our Mom better and longer than anyone of us) happily*bravely accepted our invitation to submerge themselves in our mass gathering & share in our time of remembrance.

It started the week before the wagon train set out, a simple mass e-mail suggestion.

Sunday Gathering moves from Crooked Cottage 26 
to Cottage 68 down from the Chapel.  

Coffee and Juice are on the house.  
Bring smiles and baked goods to share.  

If everyone brings a bit we'll have a lot.  

This was the Understatement of the Week.

Within 24 hours, the RSVP's were sailing thru cyber space at lightning speed, everyone spurring sparring each other on with the promise of a dessert 

more elaborate and sinful than the last.  

Citrus Cheesecake, Strawberry Trifle, Oven Fresh Cinnamon Buns, Mom's Famous Mocha Bars...

It was getting serious.  

As one nephew observed, "My inbox hurts".

The whole thing somehow spun itself into a bona fide Bake-Off Competition with official prize ribbons (designed by Cathy) and awarded by self-appointed family 'dignitary'  Sir William Casey the 5th and his faithful, taste-tester man-servant, Atchoo... 

??? ...yep.  

Clearly this family of ours was over-due for a reunion.

The next competition will follow a rule book 

(now in draft mode if you can believe it) 

and the one impeachable offence sadly but swiftly disqualified these contributions 

sans discussion OR apology.  

Hard core competitive. tsk. tsk.

Contributions in serious contention however....

 

Brittany said she'd bake three things and bring the best out of three or the least burnt.  She scored honourable mention despite her lack of confidence...   

Meanwhile, a thing of MAJOR attraction 

was going down on the dock below...

Uncle Case was offering personal guided tours 

of Chesley Lake in his motorboat.

The line-up was long and endless and
have the undeniable makings of a great Chesley memory.

A break for station identification while I pause for a 

gander at some of the most highly esteemed little peeps 

of my life:

*sigh*  - have enjoyed several quiet conversations with our sweetpea JB, 

the newest lamb-chop in the flock.

And now - the moment we've all gorged for.

Votes were tallied.  Sir William Casey stood -- a hush went thru the crowd.

Third place goes to Andrea for the recipe Mom's Mocha Whatchamecallit

Second place is awarded to Sarah for the 

instantly devoured Oven Fresh Cinnamon Buns

First place to (surprise, surprise) Michelle, 

whose reputation for home baking is legendary and 

whose Strawberry Trifle Delight was (yes indeed) incredibly awesome!

But wait!

What's this?  

Michelle carelessly leaves her first place ribbon behind?

Lying neglected in the crumbs?

Not to worry.  

It was promptly scooped up by Susie - 

purveyor of no less than TWO 

(albeit untouched) store-bought 

(i.e. ruthlessly scorned) desserts.  

Her very wide smile proves the proverb:

He who laughs last, laughs best!

You gotta love it.

I'm quite sure Mom would have approved.

Redress

redress |riˈdres; ˈrēˌdres|verb [ trans. ]remedy or set right (an undesirable or unfair situation) : the power to redress the grievances of our citizens.• archaic set upright again : some ambitious architect being called to redress a leaning wall.nounremedy or compensation for a wrong or grievance : those seeking redress for an infringement of public law rights.PHRASESredress the balance take action to restore equality in a situation.
Summer breezes are here at last.  My beloved and I went out for dinner last night with our son who is springing from the coop next week.  It was a 'celebration' of sorts.  I have to say this tongue in cheek because that yucky moment of reckoning with an empty nest and the cavernous hollow that is now our home - is unavoidably near.  Yes, yes.  I eagerly anticipate his wedding day and am thankful for the gift entrusted to him and his beloved to establish their new home together...but... yeah.  Just ignore me please. 
Entering the restaurant, we were forced to wade through a sea of what appeared to be high-school students dressed for a grad party or a prom night.  Dressed for prom night? she writes ruefully.  No. Decidedly undressed for prom night is more like it. Dressed to kill is most apt.  What we were forced to take in with our eyes crossed the line of decency at least three miles ago.  With a sorry mixture of sadness and anger, I resign myself to yet another cycle of angst over the way our world increasingly abandons all restraint in the arena of modesty and decency.Innocent and naive about their provocation?   Baloney.
And not just our world "out there".  No, sadly enough.  Let's be honest.Our community, our church family, our moms and our daughters....And here's the killer:  the silence on the subject is so - deafening.  When did we raise that white flag of surrender? Why?

Something has to change.We have to.For our children's sake.  For our husbands, our sons, for our witness, for God's glory.
Here's a link that might dispel any notion of this being a non-issue:Sisters, Show Mercy!