Life Lessons From Jonah

As much as I had appreciated staying with my friend and the restorative properties of the ranch, going home had its own appeal. When I had planned this excursion three months ago, it had been with the almost desperate need to run away. To get away. To be anywhere except where so many forms of sadness, difficulty and trauma had taken place. Traveling can give one the sense of no attachments, no commitments. Just the open road. A place where one day leads to the next, and life is simply a matter of uncomplicated decisions - what to eat, where to drive, who to visit, when to stop. 

Ironically, uncomplicated is not the word I would use for what we encountered on the road. I believe that in the last two months we have crossed more bridges, experienced more heartache, and dealt with more difficulties than is typical of a normal eight week excursion. I strongly feel God allowed me to experience all of this for a reason. A wise friend shared her thoughts with me, and it confirms what I already know. My almighty, all-loving, all-wise God used the road to show me that I can’t run from Him. At the beginning of my journey I would have argued you up and down and retorted that I never was running from Him, and honestly, I didn’t feel that I was! I was escaping the complications of my world. 

But if you consider that God is the one that has allowed me to walk the paths - oh, doesn’t that sound simplistic! How about a better visual of what it looks like in my mind’s eye! God has allowed me to stumble along cactus-lined desert roads crawling with scorpions and scrabble through ravines strewn with sharp boulders - Then I suppose if I must admit it, perhaps I was running from Him. Not just from my life. 

Over this last year I have cried, pondered, prayed, analyzed, and tried to make sense of it all. Sometimes you just can’t figure things out, and you can ask, “Why did it happen?” “What should I have done differently?” but at the end things happen that God in his Almighty power allows. 

This year has been akin to a refining fire. I can say that I am still in the kiln. And it’s hot. Very, very hot. Uncomfortably so. The dross is being burned away, and maybe one day, there will be more gold, and less of the impure qualities that the goldsmith burns away when purifying the metal.  

Though the fire has been scorching, I have never been alone. When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were in the fiery furnace, God was with them. When Daniel was in the lion’s den, God closed the lion’s mouth. When our family went through our trials, God was with us. All the way. All the time. 

Faith is my spiritual gift. I so love God and believe in miracles, and I have so much faith that He can make things happen. But what about trust? That is an area that I have to increase in, but for something to develop it needs to be tried. I believe that perhaps this year has been for that purpose, but through it all God never let me down. I felt His presence on a daily basis. A dear lady prayed last year that we would feel His presence. And we did. Oh, my, did we. In tangible ways. That increased my trust. I was in the figurative lion’s mouth, but God was with me. 

So why would I take to the road? Because I was tired of stuff. Well, God has a way of helping us to see clearly! There will always be garbage and clutter in our lives. If our travels had been a serene, successful road-trip as I had envisioned, I might have forgotten my need for Him. I might have seen that running away was the answer for difficult times, instead of allowing myself to walk through the fire with God at my right hand as he poured cooling water on my scorching feet, until I emerged triumphant on the other side. Sometimes difficulties are there to help us learn to lean on Him. Sometimes they happen because of the gift He gave man: free will. No matter if they occur because of His will or man’s will, Jesus will be with us through it all. 

Coming home was the best thing I could do. Life will continue to throw its curves, but God has called me to certain responsibilities, and I can choose to attend to them with my whole heart with the Lord at my side, or I can be like Jonah, who ran to Tarshish rather than minister to the wicked Ninevites as God had instructed him. 

Me thinks it might have been easier if Jonah had chosen to follow the Lord’s orders initially! Instead, he ended up in a violent storm in the middle of the ocean, cast overboard by his shipmates, and eventually, stewing in the belly of an enormous fish!  I am sure at first, he like me, analyzed why it had all happened, and perhaps even justified his actions. But in the end, it was his praising of the Lord in the midst of the trials that God had allowed to overtake him, and his recognition that God had been with him and carried him through it all, and his prayerful words of encouragement to others to trust in God, as God is the Lord of salvation, that caused him to be thrown from the fish’s belly up onto the shore. With a faithfulness and boldness of spirit, Jonah now delivered his message to Ninevah, as he was convicted that that no matter how difficult the task he must trust and obey the Lord.

Like Jonah, I cannot run from the call God has on my life. Some responsibilities are more difficult than others, and I might wonder if I am properly equipped for them, and sometimes even question ‘Did God choose the wrong person?’, but with the Lord there are no mistakes. He knows what He is doing. 

It is time for me to lean into Him and stop doing things on my own strength. Yes, I am the Queen of Independence, and in many ways I claimed that title by necessity, not choice, but that needs to change. However, the biggest alteration I need to make in coming home is embracing what He has gifted me with. Yes, even the trials are gifts. Why? Because they make us grow. They change us. And if we let Him He will turn us from ugly lumps of shapeless clay into exquisite pieces of pottery. 

Job 23:10  But he knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come out as gold. 

Isaiah 64:8 Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.

Farewell to the Rover - Edited

Day 49

We began our trip home a little later than planned since Erin and I were madly trying to cover all the last topics we hadn't discussed. There were children and their financial lessons, raising pigs in the most efficient manner, her miracle home and how God covered it, and a couple more just as invigorating conversations to be had. Traipsing around behind my friend, as diapers were being changed, breakfast cleared up, and as I was guiding my children in their last minute packing, we knocked off some of what we wanted to share.  By the end of the morning, we knew that the rest would have to wait for our next tete d tete.

I was quite excited at the prospect of moving into rabbit ranching with Courage and Isaiah as the handlers, so when came into the house reporting that the bunnies had escaped it was rather disappointing. Time was of the essence if we were to have any to take home. The boys were hustled back outside with all the children to attempt to try to round up a couple more cooperative critters. Try as they might, though, they just couldn’t catch them. Once time had run out, and it was time to leave, I decided it was probably for the best as to add rabbits would likely have complicated my life a little more. In the spring we would see what we could do about the new venture. We had already pork, beef, and a little bit of turkey in our freezer. The rabbit would be a nice addition to our diet when we took it on.

By the time we eventually pulled out, it was nearly noon. My tank was almost dry, and since Erin was heading out for groceries, she offered to lead us to the nearest gas station. The day was bright and actually quite warm, making for a pleasant drive. I rolled my window down half way to enjoy the fresh air, and we were off. 

We were going home a couple passengers heavier. All the seats in the van had their regular occupants, and in the back storage area we had what might be construed as stow-aways. I suppose you can't call them that, though, seeing that they were invited.

Welcome "Stormy and Shadow"

For the last twenty-odd years we have asked the Framer if we could get a cat. For some strange reason I was always under the impression that he was allergic, so I never pushed the point. Not only that, I figured that since he was typically easy-going, I wouldn't insist on something he seemed stuck on.

But a cat…  They have such personality. 

Unfortunately, the Framer's only exposure to cats is through people that don't take proper care of them, so in his mind a cat scratches furniture and messes in the house. Our first home had such destruction, and so I can understand his distaste. The woman that owned the townhouse before us was a hoarder, and when we bought the house it was chock-a-block full of boxes and everything imaginable, including garbage. We didn't smell the cats at the time, or we never would have considered buying the place. My mother was wise enough to suggest we put in a claus stating that the house must be in ‘rentable condition’ when we took possession, and if it were not, then it would be renovated as necessary. I figured there was so much paraphernalia that there wouldn't be room for mess under it all. I was sadly mistaken. When the small home was emptied, we discovered that the drywall in various sections and all the carpets in the house had to be removed, due to the extreme filthy damage imparted by the cats. Colt, our baby of nine months, ended up in hospital at this time, and we still don’t know if it were due to the germs he was exposed to through the mess.

The irony of the Framer’s firm beliefs of what cats are is that they are contrary to the way I was raised. Our friendly felines always had manners. They came when they were called, they never scratched the furniture, they slept in the laundry room, and they were outdoor creatures during the day. And they most certainly were not allowed to sit on the kitchen counters. Four years of age is when I can remember the first cat in our home. My daddy arrived home from work, and walked into the living-room. Opening his briefcase, out peeked a little grey kitten, that would be christened Sky, owing to its colouring. Sweep, Misty, Champagne, Siam, and Smokey followed Sky into our family, but there was never more than one (or perhaps two?) at a time, so I consider that we were a classy cat family, if there is such a thing. I am sure it is the fine British manners my mother imparted to the animals that made it so.

At nighttime, when my mother and father would go to bed, my mum would go to the door and make a quiet sound with her lips that the cats had been conditioned to, and they would come running, knowing the door was open, and it was bedtime. They would come in and be settled into the laundry room for the night. They were the intelligent cats that you might remember from the book "The Incredible Journey". I think people do cats an injustice when they do not treat them as the clever beings that they are!

Seeing the children's absolute besotted delight over the kittens, I knew something had to change.  I wrote to the Framer…

"Might be bringing home a couple wee animals. To get rid of mice in the barn."

"And garage."

"What?" he asked.

"Kittens. Mice catchers," I replied.

"CATS," He spat out the word like a curse.

Time to up the anti, "Yes, :) The kids are adoring them as you know they do. Think of their favourite activity at the Little House on the Prairie homestead? Kittens and miniature ponies…"

He started to weaken and pointed out that cats cost money, to which I refuted that they eat the mice which annoy him. The little critters want to get in the garage and honestly, the only way to make sure they don't is with a mouse-catching cat, since our mouse-catching dog is not that quick! Besides, whose dog is trained to catch mice, except for ours! 

And he acquiesced: "They stay outside." 

One step at a time. No argument from me! 

Later, once was home, I came to the realization that the older boys who had already moved out would never know that there was a 'right' way to have a cat. They might end up with an animal in their homes and simply by lack of exposure fall into the trap of a messy cat home. So I was truly doing my children a service in how to be responsible cat-owners. I was pretty sure the Framer would get on board...

~~~~~~~~~~~

In 2012, I took five of the children to Calgary to pick up our Great Pyrenees puppy, Blizzard. It was our French au pair, Lisa’s, first time in Canada, and we wanted to show her a little of the Western side of our beautiful country, so we made an excursion of it taking her in a large loop, seeing Jasper, Edmonton and Calgary, before arriving back home. That was the last time I was through the Rockies, and having now experienced the American version, complete with Yellowstone National Park, my eyes were wide open with real appreciation for what we have on our side of the border. I can truly say that we have the better end of the deal! The scenery in Jasper and the Canadian Rockies is out of this world gorgeous. If I were a traveler and I had to cross the continent, I would surely pass through the Canadian Rockies. Not only is it stunning, but the passage over the mountains was a piece of cake compared to the American Rockies. There was only one short area where I traveled uphill for about ten kilometres and that was at the tail end of the drive. When I crawled up through the high mountain passes of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming the elevations were as high as ten thousand feet, and I could only shudder at the thought of how treacherous traveling in winter would be!

The Glorious Scenery in the Provinces of Alberta and British Columbia

Dare I Call it Grafitti?

When once inside the park gates of Jasper National Park, I saw cars ahead of me pulled to the side of the freeway, I knew there must be animals strolling near the road. Grabbing my camera, I slowed to a crawl behind the vehicle in front of me, and then pulled to the side to get a few choice shots. These animals show no fear of man nor vehicle, no matter the size.

There was even a time when a caribou crossed the road. The guy in front of me had stopped at a cross angle in the road, and a police officer was behind me. I maneuvered to the side, forgetting any road rules to get my shot. There was no way I was missing this chance. I guess people stopping is a pretty common occurrence, since the officer simply pulled up beside the other driver and admonished him to pull off in a safer manner.

The waters of the creeks, rivers and lakes that meandered alongside us were pristine. The colours beyond description. If only I could capture the essence of what I see. I find calendars decorated with landscapes flat and boring, and puzzles with scenery do nothing for me. So what is it then about being out in all that countryside that feels so different? Perhaps that is because one just can't recreate the grandeur of the wilderness in all its unspoiled beauty. Paper pictures just don't show us what the eye beholds as we physically experience it. People like me probably aren't the safest drivers as we twist and turn our necks in wonder at what we are seeing. 

We were so busy admiring the wildlife that we missed a turn. Isaiah told me that it said one thing, I thought it said another. All I know is that if I had taken a right, I would have ended up in Jasper town, and been able to refill my gas tank. Instead, I took a left, got a great view of a caribou, and then ended up stressing out about fuel. Courage, my 'Mapper', as he calls himself, read the road atlas to see where the next closest towns were, and it was not looking too promising. I knew the traffic was not too light, so if we did run short of gas, there was hope on the road.

That morning I hadn't been sure if I wanted to make the drive in one day or two, since I knew we would be leaving later, and so I had Courage send a text to his dad telling him that if I felt too tired, then we would be stopping the caravan and parking for the night. I was not pushing myself on this last day of our adventure! Add now this the concern about gas, and the chances of me spending a night somewhere was creeping up the ladder of possibilities.

Slipping the van into neutral as I coasted down a few smaller hills, I began doing what I could to try to conserve a little of my fuel. I knew that staying under 100 kilometres an hour would also help, so I also did that. The miles crept by with no sign of any town or even a relief outpost. Anything for this weary traveler to stop at. I began getting more and more nervous, and I was envisioning us on the side of the road calling for my faithful old BCAA again!

There was likely an audible sigh of relief as I rounded a bend and found myself facing a little store and gas station. It was near Mount Robson, and I should have realized there would be fuel there, since tourists are driving through all the time. Pulling in, all tumbled out for a bathroom break, while I refilled the tank and bought postcards and just one more magnet for my fridge collection. I began collecting them in Washington, DC, after seeing an odd assortment on a fridge at Chef Mike's house. I had wanted to gather stickers for my back bumper, but not a one did I see. Not a one, until I arrived back in British Columbia, and then I found a pretty one. A little late! In the meantime, I now had a handful of unique magnets for my refrigerator. I will have to apply to the helpfulness of friends who live where I have passed through, and see if they can find me something that represents their towns, and have them send them my way, so my magnetic journey can be completed!

Mount Robson

I wish I could have taken  picture of the coolest trucker I ever saw. A man after any woman's heart. Every girl wants a man’s man with a tender heart. Think what a typical trucker makes you see in your mind's eye. A trucker does not make me picture tender. I see tough guy, jean jacket, perhaps a little overweight from all that sitting, ball cap. This was not that man. I was driving out of Mount Robson, and stopping at the stop sign to adjust my belt, I glanced to my right. A semi-truck was backing up parallel to our van. Once it stopped moving, I pulled out of the side road, and began to pass him by. 

It was then that the door opened, catching Courage’s eyes, and out climbed the guy. Now he had all of our attention. This clean-cut, well-dressed truck driver stepped down onto the ground, bent over and gently placed his fluffy little Pomeranian on the concrete. As he strode away from his truck, with the dog on a lead walking ahead of him, I could only say, “That’s the kind of a man a woman likes. A tough guy with a tender heart.”  How many men do you know that drive truck for a living, and sitting in the cab with them is the kind of dog you are more apt to see in a motorhome window, than in a semi!

Traveling on, we passed a number of villages, and when we arrived in a little town in the Rockies, and I stopped to get gas, Israel saw a Canadian flag. He burst out with surprise, "Canada flag!" Giggling, in unison, the other kids pronounced, "We're in Canada!" I guess when you are on the constant move from Canada to America to Canada to American to Canada - it can get rather confusing when you are just a kid!  

It was a first for me when I saw the sign warning of the upcoming danger of wildlife on the road. You will often see signs with bison, mountain sheep, caribou, and coyotes announcing that the section we are about to cross has a history of that particular species of animal, but I have never before seen a sign for "Duck Crossing" with a duck and her ducklings painted on it. For the next five hundred metres we would have our eyes wide open. I did say the Canadian Rockies were special! 

The rest of the day was eventless, and I found it passing quickly by. I knew we'd make it home that night, and deciding that we should celebrate by having one last meal on the road, we decided upon A & W - a family favourite. At home we rarely eat out, as it is expensive with a family our size, and no matter how delicious it is, it is hard to justify $10 for a burger, fries and drink - for one!

We kept our eyes peeled as we entered Clearwater, hoping we'd see an A & W, and sure enough we did. Out front there was a sign proclaiming a great deal. 

“Two teenburgers $7. You shall eat like kings tonight.” No kids burgers for the minions.

According to my GPS, I was supposed to take a right at the intersection, but the problem was there was no intersection. There was a round-about. Now, if you can try to see this - I was driving towards the intersection and my GPS said to go straight through and then take a right. I headed into the round-about, took the round-about, and then came out the other side. But where was A&W? It was off to the right and there was no entry road. The road that the GPS was referring to was earlier in the round-about. 

Heading north, I was determined that I would not end up back on the highway, because once my mind sees a Coke and a Teenburger there is no turning me back. I would 4x4 over curbs if necessary to get that dinner. Thankfully, it wasn't necessary. Up ahead I found a place to turn around, and I tried again. Heading south, I arrived back at the round-about. This time I was determined to do it right. Into the round-about I went. And around, and I could see the A&W ahead of me, so I continued around that round-about, and then *%$#*@ POOP! I missed it!! I was almost out the other side again. "GO AROUND AGAIN!" Bellowed the kids. They were not losing the chance of one last grease-laden, mouth-watering meal. So swinging madly to the left, with a wild glance in my rear view mirror, I took another swipe at the round-about, and around, and around, and THEN I saw it - the EXIT. And OUT I shot! "I did it!" I hollered. And we all bust out laughing. I am sure I looked as like a nut-case driving around and around and around that round-about. But who cares! I was going to have that burger and Coke! 

Burgers, fries, drinks in hand, back into the van we went. I would love to have dallied a little at the restaurant, but darkness was falling once again, and I really wanted to be past the rough part of the trip before it was pitch black out. The truckers were back on the road again, and I hoped to get up and off the hill without encountering any of them. I had heard horror stories of semis sandwiching vehicles and ruthlessly pushing past cars, and being warned, I had taken extra care for the last two months. 

We had an encounter such as this some years ago. I had the children with me and we were heading home after a late afternoon shopping in a city near our hometown. For some reason, a trucker decided he was out to get us. My son, who is now 21, can likely remember this night because of how terrifying it was for us all. The truck was ahead of us and when I would pass him on a passing lane, he would quickly speed up, turn on his high beams and come right up behind me. The semi would then pass me, get in front of my van, and then jam on his brakes and turn his back white lights on. At one point, we honestly thought we would be shoved off the edge of the cliff as we took the mountain roads leading down into the valley below. This ride of terror went on for at least twenty minutes, and unfortunately, I had no chance to get his plate number or company name, as it took all I had to stay away from him and keep my family safe.

I am glad to say that though the trucks were big and fast and scary when I was out there trying to stay afloat in a sea of them, we did not run into drivers like my children and I were intimidated by. If anything, I will say that the situations I remember the best are the warm fuzzies I got from my ‘big brothers’ as I like to call them. The guys that pulled over to let me in on busy freeways, or flashed their blinkers to thank me when I let them pass my Little Caravan That Could as it trundled slowly down the road, or parked beside me in the truck stops making me feel protected, or the drivers that showed me respect as a hauler of a small rig - but a rig, all the same. 

But I will say the very best truck that we saw was a great big red one. There is a name that will always hold an exceedingly special spot in every heart in our family. It is a name that is never too far away from the lips of the children or I. When not being spoken, it is certainly in one of our minds. It is of a little boy that lived with us for three short months. A little guy that took a piece of my heart when he left. He is always with us, even though he lives somewhere else. One day, while traveling, we saw a small boy of a darker skin tone, in a yard, and one of the kids said, “Look! He looks like Samuel.” And I had to remind them that Samuel was a year taller now, and there was a hush as they took in what I had said. Yes, he would be taller now. He would be five. “But,” they all agreed, “He still looks like Samuel.” And yes, I agreed with them, he did.

When we saw that big red truck it was like God looked down and smiled at us. “Here’s a very special truck for you all. He will always be your boy. I know you do not forget, and neither do I.” 

My Boy Samuel Who Loved Trucks

Tummies full, four of the children slipped away into sleep, while Courage, my main guy, stayed awake the rest of the way home, keeping me company and texting his dad. Cellphones, IPODs, or gizmos of any sort don't enter our home, until the teens are at least sixteen, but needing to write messages while driving has forced me to teach that boy. I’ll chalk it up to typing practice! 

I figured it might be a good time to warn the Framer of our newest family members, just to be sure he had taken me seriously when I told him about them before. Courage messaged his dad.

“We’ll be bringing Shadow and Stormy (AKA Itchy and Sneezy) home with us. But they are very, very cute.” 

The Framer responded, “See you at the Finish Line.” 

“Just think, tomorrow you will have a milking holiday!” 

“Gee thanks!!” I don’t think he could get enough smiles on that little screen to show his joy at being relieved of his favourite job. I am pretty sure he has a better appreciation for the work his children do to put milk, and all the luxuries it brings with it, on the table. No matter what I offer, they will not give up the cow. The cow appears to be a fixture for my children, and I am thankful that they love to take care of her! This time away has given them a chance to see if they truly want the responsibility of keeping a cow and possibly other cattle when we return, or if they want to give her up for the simple life. The decision is unanimous: they all want the ranch work, they all want the animals. And it’s not just for the better food. They love spending time outside caring for the cows, chickens, dogs, rabbits - pretty much anything I let them have. Obviously, when we moved up from the coast sixteen years ago, that was not the time to farm. It was to be now, as these are the children that were cut out for the lifestyle.

I was thankful the journey was almost over. I was looking forward to getting home and starting life over. The time away had been refreshing, but also very, very hard. It had given me a new perspective, and while some things had changed in ways I hadn't expected, and not always for the better, others had surprised me with the beauty of new beginnings. I was looking forward to changes that would be made, and had hopes for what God had in store for our family. 

As I edged my way carefully up the long windy stretch of hill nearing our hometown, the brightness of the full moon caught my attention, and I felt compelled to stop to take yet one more picture. It seemed a perfect way to end my story. I had begun my journey on one early August morning with a gorgeous sun hanging low in the sky, and now here I was nearly home with the night illuminated by the magnificence of a hunter's moon welcoming us back. The beauty and clarity of it seemed somehow symbolic. It seemed to represent the fullness I felt in my heart. 

Town was approaching, and I slowed the van to the appropriate speed. It wouldn’t do me any good to get a ticket at this late date. If such a thing were to occur, though, I had a plan. By now, I had become so accustomed to dealing with law enforcement officers, that I figured I would just do as my wise friend, Renee, suggested, and offer to buy the guy a coffee. Oh, and as Courage figured - a donut. Specifically, a Tim Horton’s donut, since that’s where all our cops hang out! We’d sit down, and I’d tell him of my adventures starting with nearly being arrested for - what could I call it? Camping in a take out lane? Or maybe the time I got lost in Chicago and one of his American bros saved the day. What about the officer that suggested I hot wire a car when my van blew the transmission. Not really what was said, but I think that version is more interesting. I figured any of those stories might get me out of a ticket. Or he might just throw me in the looney bin! Whatever the case, my story would finish with a bang and not a fizzle!

As we finally drove into our darkened small town, we all craned our necks to see what had changed in the time we had been away, and we weren’t disappointed. Exclamations of surprise rang out from the children as they saw how the new police station - just a minor shell when we left - had nearly been completed, or how the Ford dealership had finished its expansion, and when we got to the other side of town and we hit road construction we were reminded of the many, many miles of trucks, rollers, dump-trucks, and workers that we had seen as we traveled the biways and highways of this vast continent, and Isaiah shared his happiness and what it meant to him, “I love it when they put down ashphalt. It’s so much easier to longboard on!”  Ummhmmm, and you figure your mother would let you longboard down the hi way. Dream on, my boy, dream on. 

We were sweetly reminded of Mackinaw, Michigan, when we saw one lone old-fashioned bicycle chained to a street light in the deserted downtown main street. 

~~~~~~~~

Turning and driving slowly over the cattle guard onto our country lane, I felt rather nostalgic. Here we were again. Cattle and horses challenging my driving, gates and deep rutted dirt roads stretching out before me. 

Welcome Back to the Ruts

The dogs stood sentinel at the far end of the gravel road, tails wagging in welcome as I rode the familiar roller-coaster of a driveway. It had been two long months, but they hadn’t forgotten us, nor we them. Cooper leaned intently forward when he saw his beloved Blessed waiting for him. 

As we neared the house, the children burst into squeals of laughter. Pointing into the darkness, Courage showed me what they had spied. There barely illuminated by the approaching van lights, was the Framer turned Farmer, jumping wildly up and down proclaiming his joy at his family’s safe return. 

He's Just Happy He Doesn't Have to Milk Anymore! ;)

It felt like a full circle had been driven, and I guess that is kind of what we did. We left, we drove, we returned. A circle. But what a circle it had been! A new day was before us. Courage and Isaiah were keen to get home, mend fences, and step out into the world of ranching and auctions, and I was encouraged by the possibilities and wide open horizons I felt were before all of us. With God anything is possible, but first you need to take the first step. And that we were about to do.

And Blessed is Delighted to See Her Boy

Farewell to the Rover - Irish Rovers

“The old ways are changing, you cannot deny

The day of the traveller is over

There is nowhere to go and there is nowhere to buy

So farewell to the life of the rover

Farewell to the tent and the old caravan

To the tinker, the gipsy, the travelling (wo)man

Farewell to the life of the rover”

Day 47-48 All Creatures Great and Small - the Lord God Made Them All

On a Ranch in the Heart of Alberta

What a glorious way to wake! The early morning sun shone brightly over the horizon on the ranch, and a welcoming text chirped, "Coffees on, come on in. :) "  

After a few lazy moments enjoying the silence, I crept out of bed ensuring I did not awaken Israel, who as usual, was spread across my bunk like an octopus. Tiptoeing down onto the step of the caravan, the little house rocked, and I hoped it wouldn't waken the children. Not that I should worry; they'd love the invitation to stay snuggled in their beds!  

Outside, I found a little visitor ready to begin her day with my still slumbering children. She'd have to wait for her playmates, as I was determined to have a slow and quiet start to my morning. It felt like a breath of fresh air knowing I wasn't going anywhere today. No plans. No driving. No rushing. Last night the decision had been made to stay longer. The Framer had received a message from his upcoming contract that there was a small delay. It meant a little more milk-maiding for him and a delightful reprieve for me. He was agreeable, and I was pleased!

Any home with many children is a busy one, as I well know! What I love about a kindred spirit like Erin, mama to five, is that she knows that in the midst of the chaos, there is still a need to chat, so through breakfast, and diapers, and dishes, and guidance, and chores, and laundry, and, and, and.. we kept on talking. And talking. And talking. The last five years have seen our family through the building of a house, moving, the creation and running of a small ranch, and the adoption of two children. Not to mention the myriad of other experiences that life has thrown at us, and for Erin, a couple moves and the addition of three new children kept her life exciting. Career changes, miracles, crisis', ever-growing faith, and simply the two of us growing up added to the conversations. Yes, as old as we all are, we can still grow up. And change and mature and blossom. And in some ways - wilt. 

For the next three days the ranch rang with squeals of laughter, whoops and hollers and the chatter of children’s animated voices. I was reminded of colourful picture books illustrating life on a farm. There were cuddly bundles of fur tumbling down off the porch stairs, and bunnies hopping rapidly across the stubby fall grass. But of course, as picturesque as it all was, it wasn’t really that tranquil with ten children keeping themselves occupied.

The kittens were a source of delight. It wasn’t long before the little orange and white one was dubbed Creamsicle, after my childhood memories of my grade one classroom ‘Treat Day’. My little friend who sat beside me gave me a quarter, and I was able to buy a Creamsicle - ice-cream on the inside and orange ice on the outside. That is the only creamsicle I ever remember having.

Is That a Boy Coveting a Kitten?

During dinner preparations the second day, the door burst open, and seven year old Hayley with her long blonde curls flying behind her, bounced in exclaiming that the boys had caught a rabbit. Standing behind her in the edge of the living-room door was Isaiah - one hand grasping a brown rabbit by its ears, the other hand cradling its bottom. Courage, greatly excited and bringing up the rear, announced that Mr. R. had told him that if he caught a bunny he could keep it. That boy is a born farmer / rancher. He took the man at his word and caught his first victim. His brother, Isaiah, not able to contain his excitement at Courage’s catch, quickly got caught up in the drama and began assisting.

The next two days would see enthusiastic children with fishing nets dashing after rabbits as the potential dinners raced under and around anything they could just to keep their skins on.  They would eventually catch two fine specimens: a lion head buck and a pretty black doe, but ultimately the little critters would escape a haphazardly closed cage. No matter. The seed had been planted. Courage would be back for his rabbits come spring, with plans to breed them, and supply his large family with home-grown meat. 

With winter approaching and spring a long way off, he knew he had time to build the necessary hutches to get his operation running, and with a mother such as myself, wanting to help my kids run with their interests, he knew he had a good chance of seeing it to completion. The only issue would be how to get back to Alberta to catch and claim his bunnies. 

I’ve had a love of horses for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, I had a couple ponies, took lessons, and was involved in the Grove Pony Club. However, today having a horse requires more commitment than I have been able to afford as a wife and mother, given we are a house-building family, and this takes up more time than you can imagine. It is also a very expensive hobby, so sadly, my children have not had the exposure I would have liked. 

On our road-trip there have been opportunities for them to spend time with real horses, not just the tired ponies one finds at the local fair, where five dollars scores a child a few turns around the corral.  Meeting the thoroughbreds and warm-bloods that were boarding at my friend’s daughter’s barn in Ontario, and riding the pony, Pumpkin, was something they are not likely to forget. 

Here at the ranch in Alberta, their hearts were definitely ministered to when Les spent a few hours with the ones that wanted to learn, teaching riding skills and allowing them to trot and even canter the horses. The corral they used was adequate to keep the situation under control, and while the girls were happy to walk or gently trot, the ambitious boys were anxious to take off cantering and go trail riding. That wasn’t the plan that day, as the horses were wound up, and full of boundless energy, and Courage and Isaiah really didn’t have the ability to head for the hills just yet. Maybe with a few more lessons. 

Watching the boys, I could see the potential for young ranch hands, as they eagerly unsaddled and unbridled the horses they were riding with little to no guidance. 

A mishap was narrowly averted, though, when Courage removed the bridle before the saddle, and the horse, recognizing it was free, began moseying off. However, Courage, quick to move, caught the horse with his brother’s help. It would have been fun to see him chasing down a horse with a saddle but no bridle, but the entertainment for the day was cancelled.  

Halter Safely Back on and Saddle Being Removed

I am sure Erin noticed the boys’ genuine helpfulness and zest for life as it wasn’t long before they were receiving an offer to come spend a couple weeks this winter learning all about ranch-life. As much as Courage would love to go, I am not quite ready for my main man to leave the nest. He is such a enormous help to me, and truly, even though he’s edging into being a young man, he is still my little boy, and he has many more years ahead of him to make such ventures. Isaiah, on the other hand, is jumping at the chance to go. I think it could be a real life-changing opportunity, especially, as there could be a possibility of him spending time at a local mission where they work with horses and underprivileged youth. 

Kids living on a farm experience life like no other. Sure, I saw the incredible advantages of city life when we traveled and took in theatre shows, baseball games, and went to the local attractions, but the simplicity of country-life has a certain serenity attached to it that no urban area can match. I was reminded of my first four boys when we first moved to the country, upon arriving at my friend’s home. My boys had been eight, six, two, and eight weeks when we moved into our little single-wide mobile home, whilst building our little house in the country. Hers were 10, 7, 5, 3 and a baby.

My First Four Sons

Number 3 and 4 a Couple Years Later - Scruffy Country Boys

I did ask Courage when we were at the Toronto Blue Jays game if it made him want to live in Kelowna so that he had the advantages of what the city had to offer. His response?  "No, I still want to live on a farm."

An all-time favourite activity for our children is the clambering they do all over the hay bales that are trucked into our ranch for the winter feeding of the cattle. We have about twenty a year delivered and that lends gallons of enjoyment, but Erin’s ranch has so many more. So much more pleasure!

Each night after dinner was cleared, and the children had pitched in and cleared the table, put away the left-overs and loaded the dishwasher, it was out into the darkness they headed.  While we curled up on the couches, drinks in hand, and continued sharing our life sagas, we could hear the great screams of fright and delight coming from the hay lot. 

Quite surely Isaiah was jumping out from behind the bales to keep the children entertained. He is a loving big brother and a kind and compassionate helper. Hayley, especially took a shine to him, following him around like a little lamb. I am thinking he will do wonderfully if he goes back to the ranch to help out this fall.

Morning on the Bales

Bigs Always Find Littles to Cuddle Even When They Aren't Their Own

Our Courage is Always a Child Magnet 

Meals Times Were Lots of Fun!

We had many delectable meals while at Erin's home. She is certainly gifted when it comes to cooking! Me, my skill is feeding the masses, not creativity in the kitchen! 

Country Girls Feeding the Chickens

All too soon our time of gathering together came to an end. The children were quickly reassured that we mums had plans for a spring get-together at our home, and our family would definitely be sojourning back to the ranch in the summer. I already have visions of the boys, and likely girls, setting up their tents for some camping on hot August nights under a star-studded sky.

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