creation cruelty??

We spent a wonderful few hours at the Waterloo Earth Day celebrations today. Lovely day, perfect weather for planting trees, holding snakes, watching owls and falcons, building birdhouses, eating hotdogs. It was terrific.

There was, however, a moment that totally caught me off guard. Eden was making a cool bookmark craft. There was a piece of fabric set on the table. She was told to put violet and forsythia flowers onto the fabric, cover them with waxed paper, then hammer the heck out of them. Here's what it looked like when she was done:

Neat, eh? I'd never seen this craft before. The colours from the flowers and leaves are dyed onto the fabric in neat designs. She was proud, and so was the 3 year old hammering next to her. The 3 year old's mother, on the other hand, was a different story. Here's how that story went:

3 year old: (hammering away at the flowers, but the waxed paper keeps slipping away on her)
Craft leader to 3 year old's mom: Do you mind just holding the waxed paper for her?
3 year old's mom: No, I can't.
3 year old: (continues to hammer away, waxed paper continues to slide)
Craft leader to 3 year old's mom: Do you mind helping? If you just hold the paper for her, it'd be much easier.
3 year old's mom: No, I'm actually against this activity. I don't think it's nature friendly. I think it's actually quite cruel.

The 3 year old finished her craft and showed it proudly to her mom. Her mom said, "Hm."

I looked down at the mom's leather shoes. And the plastic container of Huggies disposable wipes in her hand. And the juice box in her other hand. And wondered about the rest of her wardrobe, and the rest of her life. If this craft is considered cruelty, what else was I doing on a daily basis that could fit into this cruel category?

A few things came to mind quite quickly:

1. We drive a car at least once a day. This qualifies as cruelty to all of creation because of the fumes and the use of a non-renewable resource.
2. I wear leather shoes. No idea how those cows were treated, or how environmentally friendly the chemicals used in dying the leather or creating the rubber soles were.
3. I kill mosquitoes any chance I can get. Ants on the counter top? Them too.
4. I loathe mice. If I found one in our house, I would find a way to do away with it.
5. I eat vegetables. Is that being cruel to the vegetable to eat it?
6. I eat meat. Obviously cruel.

Where does the cruel line start and where does it end? Seems like a pretty sad life, to see a flower craft as cruel. But maybe I'm wrong. When I think about an average day, I can list more things that are creation cruel than creation care.

What do you see as creation cruelty? Have you changed anything about your lifestyle to care for creation in better ways?

ironic blessing

A friend stayed at our house last weekend - someone who's very intentional about nurturing children's spirituality. Our daughters wanted her to do the bedtime routine - stories, prayers, etc. The thing that my daughters loved most (and have asked for ever since) was a blessing that she said to them.

My friend told me about this, and called it the "Aaronic Blessing." I heard "ironic blessing," was a bit puzzled, and vowed to learn more about what this ironic blessing was.

So... here it is! The Aaronic blessing from Numbers 6:24-26: (spoken by God to Moses, to tell Aaron and his sons the way to bless the Israelite people)

"The LORD bless you and keep you;

the LORD make his face to shine upon you,

and be gracious to you;

the LORD lift up his countenance upon you,

and give you peace."

This is how we've adapted it: "May God bless you and keep you, and may God's face shine upon you and give you peace."

What a great way to go to sleep, eh? I heard Eden blessing her stuffed bunny with this Aaronic blessing tonight.

But back to irony and blessings. Have you ever felt ironically blessed? Situational irony is when actions taken result in an effect exactly opposite from what was intended. A friend of mine was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS years ago. She called this a blessing - a second chance to change her life. I've heard of others who talk of hardship in their lives as a blessing. I hope that I will have the strength to see my own hardships as ironic blessings when they come. The kind of super-faith that can still give thanks even in the midst of despair.

But what would a profound reflection on irony be without Alanis Morissette?

I'm a bit hard-pressed to find examples of irony in this song, though. "Rain on a wedding day"? It's actually an Irish blessing (I know, because it rained on my wedding day). Maybe that's Alanis' version of an ironic blessing. Most of her other examples just seem like unfortunate circumstances. Not really ironic. "A traffic jam when you're already late"? Bad luck. "A no smoking sign on your cigarette break"? Too bad for you. "10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife"? Sucks, eh? "Meeting the man of your dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife"? Bad timing, but perhaps an ironic blessing in disguise.

a proposed way of indicating irony,

called the "irony mark"

¡¿Who knew?!

a child's questions

great questions to God in here!

Eden (my 4 almost 5 year old wonder) has been asking LOTS of deep spiritual questions lately. Most to which I have no good answer. I was asked whether Zoe did the same thing, and I thought back to this car ride to my cousin's in Stratford for a little morning trip before school (afternoon kindergarten). She was 4 almost 5 at the time.

It was September 29, 2008. Eden slept in her carseat while Zoe fired the questions: rapid-fire, not much time for answers, but to make sure the questions were heard.

Here were the ones I could remember when I got home:

Are Adam and Eve still alive?
Where did they go when they left the Garden of Eden?
How did they get there?
Why did God make them leave?
Why did Jesus die two times?
Who killed Martin Luther King Jr.?
Why?
Why didn't that killer man want everyone to be equal?
How did he kill him?
What's a gun?
Are guns still around?
Where do people use them?
What's a war?
Why do people fight wars?
Are there still wars?
Where is a war happening now?
Can I have a snack?
How did Mother Teresa die?
Was Martin Luther King Jr. a slave?
Why does God let people have guns and slaves?
Are we almost there?
Why did Nana and Papa die?
When can we see them again?
What happened to their bodies?
Why do we put their bodies in the ground?
Can we write a letter to Martin Luther King Jr.'s sister?
When?
Where is Martin Luther King Jr.'s cemetery?
Why do I have to go to school today?

imagination and belief

So they say that faith can move mountains. But can it? My daughter Eden is doubtful.

She has a whole head and heart full of faith. She desperately wants to believe - in fairies, in Peter Pan, in pirates, in mermaids, in unicorns, in miracles Jesus performed, in resurrection.

One morning, Eden came downstairs and said, "I actually DO believe in Peter Pan."

Several nights earlier, this was our conversation:

Eden: (speaking through sobs) I believe in pirates. I believe in mermaids. I believe in fairies. I believe in the colour green. But I don't believe in Peter Pan.

Me: Why not? You told me that you saw Peter Pan at your window some nights.

Eden: (sobbing loudly) I lied.

When it was storming the other day, she opened the door and yelled "Calm down!" Then she got progressively softer until it was just a whisper: calm down. But then she slammed the door and said, "No fair! Jesus can calm the storms but I can't. How am I supposed to follow Jesus if I can't even do what he did?"

A tough question to answer.

The resurrection stories have captivated Eden lately: Lazarus, Jesus, Jairus' daughter. But after each story, she says, "No fair! Why can Jesus make people come back to life but we can't? Then we could have Daddy's grandma back and he wouldn't have to cry and be sad that she died."

I think that it takes a whole lot of imagination to really believe. And sometimes I have more imagination than others. I sure do want my kids to hold on to a good dose for as long as they can.

And watching a Prince get married this early morning? Well, we definitely all believed in fairy tales.

jump in!

I wondered whether to walk to school today. I had the car, so it would have been easy not to walk. It was raining a tiny bit, and I thought "it's just water" and headed out the door.

I turned back once before getting my daughter #2 at school #1. It had started to rain harder. But after a few paces, I thought "it's just water" and kept on going. It felt good to be out. The air was warm, the rain was cool. After getting Eden, we decided to carry on to get daugher #1 at school #2.

On the way, it started raining harder. With my "it's just water" philosophy, I kept on. When we were about 5 minutes from that school, it started pouring. I turned toward home. I knew I had just enough time to walk/run home, get the car, and pick up daughter #1.

Daughter #2: Mom, it's fine! Let's just keep going.

Me: (turning toward school) Oh, all right.

A minute later, torrential downpour. Howling wet winds needled my face like hail. I couldn't see out of one eye for a minute - the rain came down on an angle, into one eye, and dislodged one of my contacts. I ran all the way to school and we waited by the front door. I was laughing.

My jeans were beyond soaked, and my shoes too. Daughter #2 was curled up in a little ball, protected inside our bike stroller/carriage, a little shaken.

Daughter #2: Mom, I'm sorry. We should've gone home. Can we call the car to come here and get us?

Me: (still laughing) No. We're fine, and it was actually fun. It was an EXPERIENCE!

It rained most of the way home. And now, minutes later - the SUN! And you wouldn't believe my sense of accomplishment and relief when I saw our house. Like getting to the end of a long portage and seeing the lake. Getting into dry jeans was a glorious experience as well.

And it made me think of how many times I opt out of things - when I don't jump in - because I think I don't feel like it. Like skipping every evening after supper. My daughters are really into skipping right now, and want Derek and I to turn the rope for them. Often I don't feel like doing this after supper. But what to do instead? Dishes? Laundry? Read? More work?

When I jump in and skip, turn the rope for these giggling girls, I never regret it. Their joy is contagious. 

I'll take the soaked pants, the sopping hair, and the puddles in my shoes for the exhileration and thanksgiving I felt just to be alive today to see this glorious rain.

And now this beautiful sun. And I just heard on the radio that there were "gusts of wind in Kitchener-Waterloo up to 110 km/hr and risk of isolated tornadoes." Whew! No wonder I felt alive!

family rituals: the eggs

In France last Easter, I looked desperately for white eggs, but everywhere they looked at me curiously. Pour colorier, I said.  In Migros grocery store a helpful woman understood, led me to the children's Easter crafts and proudly handed me white plastic eggs. I smiled in thanks, still smiling as I went to the egg aisle, picked up a carton of the brown ones, and headed home.

I don't know why I fretted over this. My grandma always used brown ones, and I thought they were so beautiful. Brown eggs wrapped in onion skins, boiled to dye. Gorgeous orangey-brown hues, perfect orbs holding great mystery.

And here were our French Easter eggs:

not too bad, eh?

I almost prefer these shades to the ones on our white eggs. This year, we had a dying-good-time with my sister and her little girl. Busy hands (and tiny feet!) at the table:

and the Easter egg dyed sky as we finished our eggs:

family rituals: seder supper

Last Thursday we celebrated a Seder supper with friends. Children and adults, joined around the table to hear stories of slavery and freedom and hope for the future.

And one of the youngest ones asks in Hebrew, "How is this night different from all other nights?"

It's a shared storytelling, with children asking questions and adults trying their best to answer. And the foods - symbolic tastes of hardship in the form of bitter horseradish, salty water like tears, and flat matza bread given no time to rise.

This is our 5th year celebrating this meal, and each year has been different and meaningful in its own way. Last year we celebrated a bilingual Seder in France. This is a tradition that has been held and encouraged by our children. After experiencing it once, our oldest daughter asked the next year, "Who will we celebrate the Seder with this year?"

We celebrate layers of story. Each year there are different freedoms on our minds. Each year people who are oppressed, not yet free. Each year the same story, but different. Remembering deliverance from oppression, remembering this meal that Jesus shared with his close friends, and remembering our hope for a new day when all will be free.

family rituals: egg cheese

My grandma taught me how to make egg cheese. I've made it almost every Easter since she died. It's one of my little silent promises to her that I'll keep some of her recipes alive, and pass them on to my own children.

The recipe is from my Swiss Mennonite tradition and it's made from 8 cups whole milk, 1 cup buttermilk, 1 tsp salt, and 6 eggs. Rich. I say a little prayer each time I make this recipe, hoping it will turn out and I will not burn the milk by stepping away and becoming distracted. I plant my feet in front of the stove and vow not to move. I'd rather not make a late-night grocery run for more whole milk.

It's a slow recipe. Lots of watching and waiting and slowly stirring from one side of the pot to the other. Then waiting some more. When the curds finally separate from the whey, I always count it a small miracle.

I can't resist trying just a small bowl with fresh maple syrup.

It's wrapped in cheesecloth and left to drip in the fridge overnight. On Easter morning, I peel back these white cloths and it reminds me of other white cloths empty of a body lying in an open tomb. A miracle.

Making these Easter foods over the past days has made me mindful of small miracles.

The miracle of:

• curds separating from whey,
• yeast rising into sweet bread,
• clear sap transformed to sweet golden syrup,
• white eggs becoming a rainbow,
• the sky with its setting sun its own dyed-egg-beauty.

If I can believe in these small miracles, could my mind be open to bigger ones?

Seed to plant
acorn to oak
all of these are small miracles
slow miracles
that take time,
inspire wonder
as I slow myself
to watch them unfold
and behold!!!