Grandparents, faith and laughter

“The reason grandchildren get along so well with their grandparents,” I heard someone say, tongue firmly planted in cheek, “is that they have a common enemy.” Our six live about an hour from us. Fortunately, on (almost) all things, the Preacher and I and their parents agree. We feel blessed …

A word from my daughter…

I’ve written about faith and life, home, friends and family in this column for a generation now. Through these five hundred words a week, loyal readers have watched my family (and pets) change and grow. Our daughter has been and done many remarkable things over those years. God arranged that …

Important people, mothers

While walking one day, my friend encountered someone who had lost control of herself. A mother, shouting and ranting. Her small child stood nearby. My friend felt horrid. She hurt for the young one absorbing her mother’s outburst. Every mother fails sometimes. I certainly have. Perhaps something devastating had momentarily …

The art and faith of pysanky

In the spring of 1988, my then seven-year-old daughter Amanda and I visited a monastery on a hilltop near Orangeville, Ontario. A short visit, but I recall it clearly with both amazement and regret. I wish I’d asked more questions of the person we’d come to see. I would never …

Pray for that child in your arms – or heart

A friend called one day, in a panic. Her babysitter couldn’t come. Was there any way I could watch her ten-week old foster baby for her—all day long? My mind raced. So many pressing things sat on that square of my calendar. I couldn’t imagine setting them aside for an …

Warm up to memories of summer camp

I loved summer camp as a kid. Horseback riding. Cavorting in the lake. Fashioning tacky crafts from macaroni and matchsticks, paper plates and plaster of Paris. Gathering round campfires singing Clementine, Kumbaya and my favourite, Dat’s vut I learned at da school, yuh, yuh! That one began (hand on head) …

Grandbeans, sleepovers and the great energy crisis

“Two raspberry smoothies coming right up. Time for the berries now, little man.” “I not a widow man,” said the tyke on the tall stool beside me, dumping them in the blender. “I’s Ezwa! I WIKE kitchens!” He’s towheaded, three and unstoppable, our youngest grandbean, Ezra. And he just had …

That little one can make a big difference

“Uh, oh. Little horse, big trouble,” I thought.  But it made sense that seven-year-old Sherah (the smallest of our three-person team) would choose the Shetland pony from the line-up of horses. The others towered over her. When Amanda had called to see if I’d accompany her and the eldest four …

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