A Greater Kind of Love

I simply hate having to come up with titles, but even though this one is a bit trite, it seems to fit. "A Greater Kind of Love" is an old story that I have told a dozen times, but that I am recycling because it is timeless. It is timeless because it was a turning point for me, and today, twenty years later, it is still a vivid memory.

I teach today because I learned back then what it really meant to be a teacher. I teach today because I learned that I had something to give--something bigger than the curriculum. And I am still teaching all these years later because as I reflect back, I realize that I have received as much as I have ever given.

This story, of how a woe-begone boy changed my attitude towards my career path, is pubished in The Ultimate Teacher which hits bookstores on May 1, 2009, just in time for National Teacher Appreciation Day in the U.S.A. It would make a perfect present for any teacher.

A Step Closer

With the publication of Learning Through History magazine's December issue, The Late Middle Ages, I am a step closer to believing I actually can write. The magazine bought my article, Joan of Arc: Maiden of France a few months ago, and it is in the current issue. I was excited about selling the manuscript, but even more excited when I saw that they chose my piece to highlight on their web site this month. I clicked on "Current Issue" and sure enough, my story was the sample of the month.

I first heard of the magazine through the Well-Trained Mind classical homeschooling forum, so I checked it out. Each issue contains a wealth of information--not a cursory glance at a whole time period, but indepth studies of key events in the time period. When I first came upon the magazine, I purchased several back issues for my classroom, and I have found them invaluable in my efforts to do a comprehensive job of teaching Ancient History to my grade sevens this year.

For students who are studying history, or for anyone who is teaching history in middle school, it is worth taking a look at the Learning through History magazine's web site at www.learningthroughhistory.com, or you can just Goolge "Learning through History magazine" and it will pop up at the top. If you do the Google search within a couple months of this blog, you will be able to click on "Current Issue," scroll down to Joan of Arc: Maiden of France and have a peek at my article.

Now, This is a REAL Car!

I have had dozens of cars over the years--from a broken-down Datsun, to Chevy Corvettes, to a Porsche 930 Turbo--but NOTHING compares to the Subaru Forester I have now! I would never have guessed that I would fall in love with a car--to me they were simply transportation. Today, though, I decided to take my dogs for their regular Saturday walk at the Serpentine Fen, and I learned that not all cars are created equal. I suspected the notion of going to the Fen was a foolish idea, but didn't heed that gut instinct. There was so much snow that as I approached, I could not determine where the entrance was. I scooted on by, did a quick U-turn and slowly made my way back trying to see the guardrail poking up above the snow. A twist of the steering wheel to the right, and I was off the highway and onto the road leading to the parking area. I knew the moment I hit the knee-deep snow that I could find myself in big trouble, but I ploughed ahead until my car could not go on.

Since I had come this far, I decided to leave the car stuck where it was and take Misha and Lulu for their walk. I opened the door, only to find it barely cleared the snow. I grabbed Lulu and stepped out. The next step caught me off guard--I broke through the snow, my knee buckled, and I lunged forward. It was a soft but wet landing. As I struggled to return my body to an upright position, I realized that I had been a fool. I finally managed to get up and let Misha out. She bounded forward to the walkway, but I had to grab Lulu and carry her, as the snow was too deep. We went perhaps 50 metres, then gave up. Even Misha was ready to go home.

We got back into the vehicle and uttered a little prayer. I fully expected I would have to get my dear husband to call a tow truck for me, but as I saw how smoothly I was able to shift back and forth to get the car rocking, I thought I just might be able to do it--if I had the guts and didn't give up. I have no idea how long I rocked the car, inching forward and a little to the left each time. Finally, I managed to get the car turned nearly 90 degrees and almost facing the direction of retreat. A few more minutes and my left front tire hit the track I made coming in. I didn't dare try to move over more, but held my breath and ploughed forward toward the exit. A quick glance right and left revealed a rare moment with no traffic in either direction. One more thrust forward, and I was back on the pavement heading home.

Of course, I didnt have my camera with me--and probably would never have thought about taking a picture if I had had it. However, I wanted to remember the day my trusty Forester showed me what a REAL car is made of, so I took its picture in our driveway. The pile of snow gives an indication of what it was like down here in the Lower Mainland the end of December 2008.

A Circle Unbroken

"As I gently drape a handful of soft dog fur on the boughs of our cedar hedge and drink in the perfume of springtime blossoms, my thoughts drift back to the beginning of this springtime ritual--to the year when I learned about the fragility of life and about hope eternal..."

So begins my most recent published story. I knew the story was worth polishing when I saw tears streaming down the face of those who were listening to me read my first edited draft. It didn't take long to find a possible home, so I polished it up and sent it through cyber space to HCI Publishers hoping they would be interested in including it in their newest book, The Ultimate Dog Lover.

This anthology of dog stories is available at Chapters stores and on the shelves of the public library.

The editor loved the story and had to ask, "The puppy, Wolfie. Is she still around?" To which I tearfully replied, "No, she died in my arms a few months ago. She is playing at the gates that I will someday pass through, too."

LJMB

Lessons from Lulu

She is the cutest thing around--a little scallywag, but cute! This peanut of a dog goes with me to school and is the "hook" in many lessons. It is a challenge to teach literary imagery to middle school students--not because they cannot understand, but because they generally don't care. In my last Grade 8 English class, Lulu taught them about the metaphor.

I simply told them that my husband grabbed our big dog, Misha, leashed her up and called to me, "Grab your hamster and let's go for a walk."

They all got it and can now identify a metaphor when they run across it.

Our Destiny is to Create

Sure I have done lots of writing, but I felt it was time to get serious. I checked out the Continuing Education classes, and to my delight, Ed Griffn was teaching Introduction to Creative Writing. I signed up in a flash. Tonight is our last class, and our assignment was to use the words "write & I" in a composition. It didn't matter what form, so since I rarely do poetry, I thought I would try my hand at that. Here is my effort:

I Am Writer

In a primordial void, thoughts swirl but take no form

Ever so slowly words begin to pepper the blank parchment of my mind

Then, like a tumbling river of sapphires, they burst forth with a life of their own

I cannot rest; I must capture the thoughts before they evaporate into oblivion

For in a fleeting moment, they can be forever lost.

With arthritic fingers throbbing, I scratch out the images lurking in my brain

A skeletal outline emerges in the scrawl of blue ink

When the shape takes form, I lay the pen down and swivel to the keyboard where

I slip into my own creative Eden, a garden of ideas watered by the joy and pain of life.

With eyes closed, I watch the story unfold on my own secret stage

Clicking fingers dredge the scenes from the deep recesses of my mind

I do not rest; I do not eat; the world is shut out -- nothing else exists

I keep drawing from the wellspring deep within my soul

Finally -- I hit Ctrl "P" and the printer whirrs, spitting out word-speckled paper

Ruthless pruning, chopping, rearranging -- wrestling with nuances of language

Again -- and again -- and again with red pen

Until at last I breathe a deep sigh, and contentment settles into my spirit.

I ruminate on each word, treasures to caress and cherish

A smile slowly spreads my face

I almost wonder where this came from -- strange words from the depths of subconscious

The purpose of my existence is before me,

Made in the image of God, we are meant to create, it is life to the soul

I AM -- a WRITER!

A Few Contemplative Thoughts

The rain is incessant these days--when it isn't a torrential downpour, it is a constant drizzle. I always thought I would love the temperate rainforest climate, but on these days, I wonder whatever led me to believe that! I never feel dry, and my joints ache; they didn't ache back in the days I dreamed of living here. Not much ached back then; I was still in the first third of my life:) Still, I do love the towering cedars, the ferns stretching their fronds up from the boggy soil, the coziness of of my cabin. Perhaps I love living here after all.

I am now an official Subaru aficionado. I don't know what it is about the Subaru that always catches my attention, but my head always turns when one drives by. It has been like that for years. Six months ago, I turned my Corolla over to Mom and began the hunt for my dream car. The finances didn't really allow for it, but I justified the search by saying it would probably be the last time in my life I would have the chance to buy my dream car. So now, as I wind along Crescent Road in my Subaru Forester, I smile at the way it handles--exactly the way I imagined.

It is easy to let one's mind drift back to "if only." If only I had kept my job in Edmonton, if only I had not sold my house, if only we had bought something when we first came out here, if only I had saved diligently during the first half-century of my life. But those "if only" events are history and cannot be recaptured, so one walks in faith believing that all will be well. No, we are unlikely to be independently wealthy during our lifetime, but we should be able to manage to stay out of soup kitchen line-ups. What we have learned living in an old cabin cannot be taken from us. We will never have to say, if only we had learned to be happy with little, if only we had learned to live a simple life, if only we had spent more time together, if only we had cuddled more with our pets, if only we had been able to live out our faith at work, if only we had taken time to learn to love each other to the depth of "till death do us part."