Last Friday, I enjoyed my last sunrise on Forestry Road before moving to another basement apartment on Saturday.
I thought the view was a reassuring way of God saying, good things are still to come, I got you!
No worries folks, I am still in Red Lake.
Last night I spent time looking through some of my pictures on my external hard drive. I found so many memories that I had forgotten about. Interesting that for some even though I am smiling at the camera, I can still remember I wasn’t having the greatest day.
For those of you who have been reading this blog for several years, you will remember that I spent 10 months in the U.S several years ago. I will just have to borrow a quote from Charles Dickens to briefly describe what those 10 months were for me:
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair… We had everything before us, we had nothing before us …
I laughed a lot, cried way more than I wanted. I learned some painful lessons, a cliche but true, pain is the best teacher, I am a little wiser now. I learned light-hearted lessons too, for example how to ski ( I was still an epic fail at the end of the day even though Heather was a patient teacher). I learned, if you don’t hold a shotgun properly when you shoot, the kick back will make you scream and cause those around you to double down in laughter. Most importantly, I will never, ever, ever knowingly go camping in the mountains when it’s about to snow, talk about misery! But that’s a funny story for another day.
Ever since I learned in psychology that we humans have a tendency of looking back into the past and seeing it rosier than it really was, I have always strived to be careful how I look back , sometimes you can get so caught up in “the good old days,” you rob yourself of valuable lessons in contentment whatever season of life you are in.
I saw this quote on my friends Instagram, what do you think about it?
Contentment comes not from adding to what you have, but from subtracting from what you desire. Jeremiah Burroughs.
I went blueberry picking on Saturday. I cannot say that picking is fun, far from it, it’s all hard work but I enjoy going out because of the peace I encounter on a patch.
Sometimes I listen to music or sing as I pick but this time around, I wanted to listen to the nature around me. I would challenge myself to block all other sounds except for one. It’s amazing what your ears will pick up when you do that.
I picked up a lot of interesting sounds but what held my attention the longest was the wind. Wild blueberries grow best in areas where trees are short and shrubs are plenty, this particular patch had tall trees surrounding it in a U shape. As I picked berries I would hear the different sounds of the wind, as if everything around me was there to translate what the wind was saying.At times the trees sounded like a group of overly excited girls sharing sweet morsels of gossip, pausing from time to time to make sure no one was listening to them. The soft whoosh and rustle of the leaves like lovers whispering sweet nothings to each other, other times it sounded as if the wind from different directions was converging on the patch, reminding me of the steady hum of a busy international airport. So much going on at the same time but all in an orderly fashion Then other times the wind would howl, the trees would bow, the shrubs shudder like friends in a heated argument aware that the longer they went on the harder it would be to repair the damage. Nothing good ever comes from gossip even though at first it’s tantalizing to the ear.
Looking to the sky I could see that the wind was bringing rain, I tried to hurry along with my picking but I would relapse to a slow pace as I again sat in silence and listened to the wind and the conversations it brought my way.
A few of my favourite shots from the past two months.
I am watching the opening night of the Olympics as I edit pictures. Made me think of Paul, one of the Bibles writers and something that he wrote:
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.
Watching the show has got me thinking, do I have goals or am I just living? What dreams must I keep holding on to? How am I embracing discipline in my life? and am I really running my race in such in a way that says, ” Yes, I am running to win this ?!”
Good night friend.
A month ago after two incredible years, I moved out of Pikangikum. I have moved to Red Lake, a town 88 kms from Pik. I am still working with Living Hope Native Ministries and still have strong ties with Pik but I am wearing a few more hats now 🙂 One of them is being part of the Short Term Team that coordinates trips for groups that want to do short term volunteering to different places in Ontario were Living Hope is welcome. I am looking forward to sharing with you what my new season looks like.
For three weeks I gave myself a photo challenge, can you guess what the theme was?
It’s been awhile since my last post, life has been sooo busy! More details about that in my next post.
She stands alone at the edge of the cliff. The wind softly whispers secrets into her ears as her eyes drink in the view before and around her. The bluff nestled in rolling hills of emerald green is shaped like a crescent moon creating a hidden cove. The colours of the swells below play tricks with her eyes, are they turquoise or black? Maybe both? Frothy ribbons of white appear and disappear at will. A couple of Black African Swifts fleet over the cove, the female teasing her partner in their secret dance of love. Shiny dark rocks cover the face of the cliff, some are smooth others have jagged edges. What stories of raging storms from the sky above and the waters below would they share if they could she wonders? Immovable they have remained through the years, a buttress of refuge for the solitary falcon that makes its rest within its face. She takes a deep breath, the fragrant scent of the wild flowers growing abundantly around her a sure sign that the bees will not be disappointed. Tufts of grass and bouquet of fairy bells and wild violets dot the crescent face brightening the sombre rock. Beneath her feet, the morning mist drenches the intermingled grass and moss creating a moist spongy carpet, with a deep sigh of contentment, her bare feet sink deeper into the ground. Above her the skies grey-white canopy is within her reach, the descending clouds give the cliff an aura of heavenly peace. Intermittently, beams of sunlight pierce through the canopy causing the bright pink Everlastings to raise their heads in jubilation as they slow dance to the wind and bow in gratitude each time misty spray falls on them.
She inches closer to the edge, complete silence descends on the ridge, its time, she takes the leap.
My youngest sister was very upset that I ended it so abruptly so now I am thinking of expanding the story just for her.lol. Personally, I don’t mind when some stories are left unfinished.