Parked Eyes

We went for a walk down the street,

near a park we strolled with our feet.

And what did we see while out there?

Two women, seated on the park chairs.

Little kids called and yelled to be heard:

"Watch me!" "Over here!" and other such words.

But the women kept their backs to these kids.

Their faces stared down, too busy, they hid.

Down the slide zoomed a lively spry girl.

She nearly fell on her bottom at the end of the whirl.

Giggles and laughter, youth lived to its full.

The women unmoved, save a smirk between lulls.

So we continued our stroll down the street.

In the bright spring sun filled with heat.

I silently wondered and pondered inside:

"One could steal those little kids if one tried.

Yet not a notice would these women give

But to their own little world they do live.

Their children will grow too fast, how nice,

while backs are turned, eyes only for a device."

As we arrived home from our young evening stroll,

I noticed my own kids, how big and how tall!

Will their youth slip from my busy eyes?

Or will they stay open, as those of the wise?

The Shocking Truth

We got mail today! And it wasn't a bill! It was a shocking letter from Catholic Insight. They were writing to inform us that, due to financial reasons, there would be no more Catholic Insight. After a 23 year run of being one of the only truly Catholic voices in Canada, they couldn't survive.

It was both shocking and unshocking (sorry, my vocabulary is shockingly limited). Back in September Becca and I got our own subscription, finally. At first we were excited to read all the good stories and, well, Catholic insights offered. However, by about December we both had to admit our disappointment. There were endless pages debating the worth of the wacky Jesuit Teilhard de Chardin, news updates nearly two months old, long long articles about female Lord of the Rings characters, and just overall unexciting and uninteresting publications. Oh there were some good articles too. Dr. David Beresford was/is always interesting and good for a laugh. I appreciated Dr. Ryan Topping's work on church architecture. And every now and then we'd read one or two good articles. But for the most part I would read very few of the articles in the magazine.

I'm tempted to speculate why they couldn't make a go of it. Why things fell off the way they did. But instead I mourn the loss of what had been, and what could have been. We've lost one of the few Canadian Catholic voices. I know that the internet is largely responsible for the loss of many print publications, and in fact there are still many good Catholic people writing on the internet. I also know that the quality of Catholic Insight seemed to have dropped a notch or two. It happens.

However, why do the liberal "Catholic" print voices always remain? Why, for instance, is the Prairie Heretic, er, Messenger, still able to promote shockingly heretical work (limited vocabulary again)? The Prairie Messenger has now resorted to publishing the work of a once Catholic Insight writer, and once Catholic-in-general writer, Michael Coren. In case you're wondering, Coren has now jumped on the abortion bandwagon in this article. At this rate expect Coren to be promoting child sacrifice by Christmas. Or worse, country music. But I digress. The Prairie Messenger still stands. No fear. They can say what they want. When pressed on the Coren article they brought out every heretical and illogical argument in the book. They referred to the seamless garment theory (because saving water bottles is just as important as Jesus dying for our salvation), staying "open" with dialogue, and the newly predictable "Pope Francis wants us to..." line. How about: Pope Francis wants you to stop lying and using his name to further your agenda. What next? Pope Francis for child sacrifice? Well, at least Coren can't use that line. He's burned his Catholic bridges, again. Or worse, Pope Francis for country music... at Mass...How Magisterial of you Prairie Messenger. Again, how shocking.

Where was I again? Oh yes, the bottom line is there is little room for error amongst good Catholic people, good Catholic publications, and any good Catholic work. We are held to the highest standards. We are not free to spout out whatever we want and be rewarded for it. We are bound to the truth. We are also bound to use our brains throughout the process; to be sharp as serpents and innocent as doves. And if we somewhat momentarily lose this, we may find ourselves looking back and saying "what if?..."

Thank you Catholic Insight for all the good things you have done. May your work carry on somehow, someway. Canada needs this.

I'd be shocked if it didn't. Pope Francis wants it that way.

A Chip Off the Old Block

Joseph and I tackled a nice little project this past Saturday. The goal was to redo parts of our patio. You see, I took a big risk when I repurposed all our concrete and put it into patio form. I didn't know what I was doing, or how it would look. But in the end the risk was well worth it, and we love it. However, in order to fill in the concrete blocks I didn't have the proper paving sand. You see, in Tisdale you can't even buy oranges half the time, let alone paving sand. So I made a mix of normal sand and cement. It seemed to work great. But a long and cold winter put some wear and tear into it. And so, Joseph and I set out to chip away all the filler and then refill it.

These pictures are 100% not staged. I kid you not, Joseph actually helped me to literally chip away at this project. We listened to music, talked, and worked for over three hours. He even helped me re-level some of the blocks. What a difference a year makes! You might recall me complaining last year how he would not only get in my way, but undo work of mine. Plant grass? Joseph would walk all over it. Paint a wall? Joseph would damage it with his hammer in order to "help". You get the idea. Not anymore, or at least not yet. My boy was a great help.

But lo and behold, I have another little boy who has taken over for last year's Joseph. John Paul. John Paul the Wrecker. John Paul the Destructanator. He came out with us for the first 30 minutes. It was so awful I eventually brought him to Becca (who was inside making bread) and muttered something about we can buy bread, but we can't buy a patio, or something ridiculous like that. In short, John Paul was, dare I say, worse than Joseph last year. And he's only one. ONE! Did I mention he just started walking only two weeks ago? He still has at least one more summer of being like this.

So thankfully Becca took him away to the new play structure at the school. All was good.

  Afterwards he had a nap, which allowed Joseph and I to finish our task.

In the end, I wonder sometimes... if I had a little girl would she be like this? Or maybe she would simply go off and play dolls. Perhaps she might even set up a little tea party and treat me to it for a little coffee break? I can only imagine. Or better yet... maybe she would follow Becca around endlessly and bother her instead! *evil grin*

Whatever the case, I'll gladly take my boys, any day. Good work, workerman Joseph.

Poop Culture

Post-Christianity. Perhaps a bit of a buzz phrase, but it's very true. Christian, and especially Catholic, culture is all but gone. To be a Catholic now is to, in many ways, be an island. How can this be, in a world with over 1.2 billion Catholics? Yeah.... sure... Mark Twain's words ring true: "There are lies, damned lies, and statistics." No, to be Catholic is to be, at times, alone. At least from a human standpoint.

Take tonight, for instance. It's my school division's staff appreciation night. Not that I would go (I'm pathetically reclusive, you know), but if I went I would be entertained with a night of drinking, feasting on meat (on a Friday), and watching a hypnotist make a fool of people volunteering to let go of their will for a few minutes. Sounds like a pretty good time. Not that I'm one iota better than anyone who went, yet if I went I know my conscience would be egging me on, saying: "Really? This is the best you can do?" At the very least, such events make Catholics feel uncomfortable.

Yet this kind of culture is rampant. Why are there always doughnuts in the staffroom on Ash Wednesday? Why is our school multi-k run taking place on a Sunday morning? Why are Christmas parties before Christmas? And Christmas songs played before December 25th? Why do people come to your door asking for you to donate to sketchy-yet-admired- charities such as Unicef? How come even the word "Catholic" has such a negative connotation? One could be a murderer and still be looked on by some with more sympathy than a Catholic.

Catholics. We're always the bad guy. We're always the party pooper. In the words of Susie from Calvin and Hobbes:

Yet are we an island? I prefer the other symbol employed by Simon and Garfunkel. I prefer to think that we are more rock than island.

Post-Christian culture must be filled with something. Is it pleasure? Is it self-satisfaction? Is it determination which insists on being void of God? But man was made for greater than this. The human soul longs for higher truth. For a deeper purpose. Even the bewilderment caused by a hypnotist, in a very small way, makes the soul consider that there is something amazing beyond our daily consciousness. And the Catholic must speak to this. 

I remember last year we were setting up the stage in our school (a dreaded chore by all). Afterwards a teacher brought out ice cream sandwiches as a reward. Knowing that I wouldn't offend the teacher giving out the treats, I politely declined and said I couldn't take one because I was giving up such things for lent. The teacher became very interested. Imagine, someone giving up ice cream sandwiches! For what? Well... for lent. For God. To prepare for Easter. To root out my pride and selfishness. In short, for something other than myself. And yet in a way it is for myself, thanks to a God not outdone in generosity. 

In small ways, often unknown to all, we can still live the sacrificial Catholic life with dignity. We can possess a supernatural outlook on life, and perhaps even, by the grace of God, be a rock in times of distress. No, the Catholic life is not so much a lonely one. It is a necessary one. It is to join the natural world, which at times can be lonely, to the supernatural world, which is alive and active, joyful and profound. We are not islands. We are founded on a rock.

Not on poop.

Read All About It!

"Did you know that John Paul can walk?!.. He started with a few steps and..."

"Yeah, I read it on your blog."

"Oh... well you should hear what Joseph said! He was making this new game, and he called it Porky Morky, and, well, he would..."

"Yeah, I saw that too."

"Oh... well, um, the boys met some policemen and..."

"I saw the pictures."

"One night we..."

"You posted a video, remember?"

"Some visitors... were..."

"Saw the pictures."

"I Broke into my house."

"Yep."

"The.."

"Heard about it last week."

...

"I have to go now..."



Such is life with a blog. I'm shutting up now. No point in saying anything tonight. Then maybe we can talk some time...





Oh alright, I just can't resist!

Today Becca and I were gasping in amazement at the truck load of spaghetti John Paul was consuming. We were also more than a little nervous. Think of how much this kid is going to eat us out of house and home! In amazement Becca spoke up: "What are we going to do when John Paul is five?!?"

"Get him a birthday cake!" replied Joseph.


There, now if I tell you that story some time, just smile and nod your head.

Home Home Home

When I was at OLSWA as a student we geekishly created and used a system for talking about "home." When talking about our student residences we used the word "home." Example: I'm going home to eat a pound of bacon that I bought on sale, I'll see you at supper in an hour." When talking about our home where we came from we used the term "home home." Example: "I'm going home home this weekend to get my laundry done for me and to eat bacon and cheese."

Yet there was another home we added. Being well versed in Aristotilean influenced Thomism, we reverently spoke about our true home. Our final destination. Thus we stated the thrice holy: "home home home," when speaking about heaven. Example: "I'll bet there is all you can have bacon, cheese, and chocolate milk for those who go to home home home."

I was thinking about this on the weekend. You see, this past weekend was, for me, the official start to my summer projects. I spent time putting in a new outdoor tap, covering an electrical outlet, patching holes on an overhead shade structure, and moving rock while preparing our garden. It felt good. I honestly didn't want to come to work on Tuesday *gasp*. And throughout the work Becca and I discussed a potential new project: a kitchen renovation. While the idea is barely on my radar at the moment (I have more than enough to keep me busy this summer), Becca is a little more enthusiastic towards such a reno this summer. So she can look into things, for now.

But it's amazing to me to see how we can so quickly get consumed into thoughts about our home. Everything from colours to concrete, flooring to fixtures, quickly becomes a topic to thoroughly discuss. Becca and I are further the type that any talk about hardware on a door quickly balloons into talk about colour of cabinets and walls, to entire house colours, to when to sell the place, to where to live, to eventually discussing our entire life plan, retirement, and even whether or not ISIS will come after us before then. Eventually I find myself lying huddled on the ground sobbing and moaning: "it's just a paint colour..."

In the end, though, I think we lose track a bit. Our entire life plan is not around our home, or home home. It should be around the thrice holy home, heaven. Preparation on a home is important, especially when looking at eventually selling in a very difficult and unforgiving Tisdale real estate market. But it's not heaven. Nor is it anymore than a blink of the eye in comparison to heaven. Jesus won't care about the quality of our flooring, but he will care how I treated my sons as they got in my way "to help" as I laboured at putting that flooring in. He might not care about how I spent time sorting through mixed up rocks (red versus blue), but at whether or not I offered that simple labour up. And that amazing centre piece photo collection on the wall, that was planned and produced with attention to every detail, means nothing next to the crucifix up on the wall next to it. The home is but a sign of our heavenly home. A mere shadow. May our house be called a house of prayer. In the end, the work I do on our home really should be contributing towards the heavenly home, the only that matters.

May Our Lord say to us all some day: "Welcome Home Home Home, my faithful servant"

Snippets: stuff you missed

Just some stuff that happened in the past couple weeks that I can't help but document, because I have pictures (albeit, not so great ones)...

1. Our local emergency crews had a free BBQ day one cold, windy morning while the grandparents were visiting. Of course, we went. Joseph love the police guys and trying on the fireman's gear.

 

2. John Paul's default mode of transportation is now walking! Within about a week, he went from just 3-5 steps to walking everywhere. It's so funny to see this little boy come walking down the hallway now, just carrying a tool-box or a set of blocks. Even when he's (rarely) on his knees now to get from one place to another he does it upright (no hands!) moving one knee, then the other. We are so excited and so is he!

 

3. We hosted my aunt and uncle's family for lunch again on their way back east. Joseph loved seeing "mommy's cousins" again and John Paul was happy to show new people his new skills. They've been on the road since sometime late April (23rd?) and were arriving home today after attending the March for Life in Ottawa yesterday. I will definitely be going to them for tips on driving cross-country with kids!

4. Not to embarrass my mom or anything but... she locked us out of our house the day after they arrived for a visit. Thinking we had our keys when we headed out the door before Mass to adjust car-seats, she kindly locked the door handle (which we never lock) and left. We didn't have any keys with us whatsoever, planning to come back in and gather up Mass books, diaper bag, etc and lock the dead bolt. Fortunately, my mom also forgot to completely shut her bedroom window. So, with a little ingenuity, a golf club, a balancing act, and a boost, I managed to pop the screen off, open the window, and climb through. All while wearing a dress... Ya do what ya gotta do.

 

That's about it. Enjoy your long weekend! We'll be puttering around fixing our house up (we're always fixing our house) and playing with cousins in Nipawin. 

And, just because...

Defining Times

When I was studying for my Master's comprehensive examination I found it necessary to once again rememorize some basic definitions. Only with the definitions memorized could I then adequately expand upon what certain terms meant. Three definitions in particular I found myself coming back to were for the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Truth be known, I still come back to the definitions of these virtues. Never in my life have I seen such a need to continue to remember and reflect on what they are, and how they apply.

-  -  -

I'll never forget the moments leading up to the Mass I attended in Barry's Bay, ON, just two days after I was married. Before Mass began the priest went to the pulpit and stated in a simple manner that people needed his permission to post pamphlets at the back of the church. He said he was constantly removing a certain newsletter, but that it always seemed to return. Well these simple words were too much. There was a lady, no doubt the culprit, who stood up and started giving it to Father. Father responded by stating these newsletters were not allowed by the diocese, and that was that. I remember at one point the lady shouting back at him: "No, you're wrong!"

Undoubtedly the lady made a complete fool of herself. But what was she so upset about? Well, she had been planting the infamous Fatima Crusader at the back of the church. The Fatima Crusader, of course, is the publication that Fr. Nicolas Gruner, a Canadian, produced regarding the apparitions of Fatima and the need for the pope to consecrate (again... I might add) Russia. Fr. Gruner was suspended by Rome back in 2001. As you may know, Fr. Gruner died April 29th, and his funeral was May 9th.

Fr. Gruner's funeral apparently took place in a convention room, for he was not in good standing with the Church. The funeral ironically was declared a pontifical Mass, though it was a schismatic bishop who presided. I wonder if the lady who so furiously declared: "you're wrong!" to the priest in Barry's Bay some five years ago attended Fr. Gruner's funeral? Would she not think such circumstances are perhaps, what's the word, wrong?

And then I recall:

"Faith is the theological virtue by which we believe in God and believe all that he has said and revealed to us, and that Holy Church proposes for our belief, because he is truth itself" (CCC 1814).

Faith requires humility. The catechism teaches us that faith is to believe in all that God reveals, through "Holy Church." There is no "you're wrong" about what the Church teaches, or the need to remain in the Church. If your knowledge and insight surpasses the Church's, you have quite simply strayed from the truth. The Catholic Church has the fullness of truth. To step away from the Church is to step away from truth to some degree. People reject Christ's teachings on all sides and areas. Some are too harsh, some too wishy-washy. My faith gives me great peace and strength. Still though, for those praising the life and teachings of Fr. Gruner these past two weeks, he was suspended for a reason. The fullness of faith simply requires us to follow the Church.

-  -  -

It's a confusing, if not terrifying, world we live in. On one hand we have priests and lay people who, by all accounts should know better, yet are willing to live, and die, suspended from the Church for the sake of an interpretation towards a private revelation. On the other hand we have what I would figure a large majority of the Church either totally numb to the unprecedented problems of our time, or are even in cooperation with them. The new contraceptive pill seemingly that of homosexuality. I read that Christians are rapidly accepting the idea of gay marriage. Also just released were survey results stating the percentage of Christians in America is declining at an alarming rate, with Catholicism leading the way in this decline. There is so much confusion. Further, the more I look to the hierarchy of the Church, the more this confusion swirls. Did Archbishop Collins say he would change the new Ontario sex ed. curriculum to meet Catholic needs? Did he mean change or simply add to it? How did he not condemn Premier Wynne's work? I talked to different people on this, and got different interpretations. Or what about Archbishop Bohan of Regina working with teachers to create policies for transgender students? I silently wonder: will Canada eventually get a Winnipeg Statement 2.0 on this issue too?

The world is losing its collective mind. Sadly it must also be admitted that the human element of the Catholic Church is deeply divided. Not the teaching of Christ. This is, and always will be, presented and protected by Our Lord, His vicar, and all in union with Him. Yet I'm sure many modern day Catholics look more to the CBC than to the Magisterium when confronted with issues like same sex marriage, abortion, and so on. On the other hand, as stated earlier, there are Catholics who would rather look to a suspended priest then to the same Magisterium. Ultimately, the confusion and division is that Catholics are not uniting themselves to the Magisterium. And the Magisterium is not being taught with the clarity and vigour it deserves.

The Magisterium is a great treasure. Once upon a time I could walk into any class at the Calvinist-inspired Redeemer University and win any, I mean any, argument with a professor there because ultimately our argument would peel its way down to "you're believing that on your own accord, and I believe it because Our Lord left a Magisterium to guide us... why would he leave us to our own interpretations?" Once a certain professor, when I pressed him for how he knew what he said was truth, angrily shouted at me: "It's not the Magisterium!!" Always protesting. More and more people are agreeing with this man, in their own ways. It is a difficult time to be a Catholic. It is difficult to uphold the faith. Some days it can cause me to lose a little hope. Or more than a little hope. Such a hopeless world sometimes. Hopeless bunch of Catholics too.

And so we consider the virtue of hope.

"Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit" (CCC 1817).

In hope we trust not on our own power, but on that of Christ. In short, Christ promises His help and protection to lead us to heaven. People hate the Church? Don't lose hope. People hate you? Don't lose hope. Your own colleagues, neighbours, priests, bishops, family members are compromising the truth? Don't lose hope. Of course you cannot fight this on your own. But don't lose hope. The same priest who was attacked by the Fatima fanatic above used to always say to me: "Don't get discouraged. Don't ever get discouraged!" Hope is a theological virtue. Stay rooted to Christ and a mysterious thing will happen: You will persevere. Focus on Christ and the storm will not affect you. Focus on the storm and you will sink. In many ways we're very blessed to have difficult times. In difficult times it is very easy to tell if we are focusing on Christ alone, or on the storm around us. Hope in the Lord, and the faith of His Church.

-  -  -

In the end, let's be honest, it can be difficult to love people. Especially when a natural reaction is not love, but rather anger. Anger to be treated as such. Don't you ever just want to punch someone who arrogantly spits errors in your face? Indeed, charity enters the realm of supernatural.

"Charity is the theological virtue by which we love God above all things for his own sake, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God" (CCC 1822).

I think the "for the love of God" helps me with that. Honestly, I don't always want to love someone who is working so ferociously to destroy all that is good and holy. On my own, I would never do it. Never. Why would I? But love, charity, is an act of the will. Not an act of the emotions. The definition of charity reminds me to do it, not for me, but for God. And the great thing about charity is we are given the strength and charity to do so. We don't necessarily create charity. It flows from God to us, for God is love. St. Padre Pio used to say, when asked how to become a saint: "will it." For the love of God, will it.

-  -  -

Simple definitions. Thank you to the professors and writers who keep teaching the truth to shaky students such as myself. You've done well.

In the end our faith, hope, and love will define our success.

the one thing that matters

Joseph and I got into an in-depth conversation on Heaven after lunch. I'm not sure how it all started, something to do with death and him saying he wasn't going to die. I told him that everyone dies, but that we probably wouldn't die right away. 

We talked about how if we obey God's commandments, love God and others then we would go to Heaven to be with Jesus and Mary and all the saints. Joseph was worried about not having a house in Heaven, but I told him Jesus promised He would prepare a place for us. Joseph suggested he should have a pool to go with his house and I agreed that would be very nice. 

We talked about the saints, how they were once on earth, just like us, but are now in Heaven: St John Paul II who was once the pope, St Dominic Savio who was a little boy just like him, St Andre who was the doorkeeper at the Oratory. I told him that we would be saints when we go to Heaven because saints are holy people that have died and are with Jesus now. "No, really?" he replied with an excited grin.

Then we went on with our day: I tackled the laundry list of tasks I'd set out for myself, he went and fell asleep during his quiet time. And I forgot our conversation. Instead, I created an incredible level of craziness in all the things I attempted to accomplish: laundry, paperwork, baking, cooking, de-junking, reorganizing.

Later, I put John Paul down for an early bedtime since he took an early nap and was overtired. Within half-an-hour, however, he was awake again, crying and restless. I was forced to stop my evening clean-up, stop everything. He wanted to sleep on my chest, so I lay there comforting him until he settled... 40 minutes later.

I had a long time to think over my day and to realize that my self-inflicted business wasn't getting me in the right direction. If Heaven is my goal, the organization of my linen closet matters very little. But the little souls entrusted to me do matter. Part of me getting to Heaven involves trying my best to point my kids in the right direction so that they become saints too (and teaching them that busy is not best). Because the one thing that matters is that when I die, I am welcomed into eternal life in Heaven. May I never forget that in all the business... that is the one thing that matters.

The Bears Visit Tisdale

Just before my parents arrived from Ontario for their visit, Joseph came into the kitchen and told me very seriously, "Did you know, Grandpa Bear and Grandma Bear are bears?"

When my dad, upon becoming a grandfather, decided he'd like to be called Grandpa Bear (if you don't get it, well, his name is Barry and my mom calls him Bare), my mom knew that if she didn't come up with a suitable nickname really quickly, she'd be stuck with Grandma Bear. Stuck she is.

Their entire nine day visit, Joseph was religious in calling them by their full names: Grandpa Bear and Grandma Bear. "Grandpa Bear, do you want to go for a walk with Grandma Bear and me?" "Grandma Bear, can you read me another book?"

Needless to say, I believe they were thrilled at being bears and being called bears, by their cute little grandsons.

The weather was a little cool much of the time and, realistically, there's not a whole lot to do around little Tisdale at this time of year, but our retired bears didn't seem to mind. Grandma would read 6-8 books each morning before breakfast. Grandpa fixed, both real and imaginary, little broken things around our house. They took in a quilt show, toured Tisdale's downtown core, visited the elementary school, Nipawin... and we still had a week left.

I put down my camera for the week and let my dad take over. He was ready and willing to capture almost every moment.



And with Grandpa and Grandma came gifts. When Joseph was much younger, my dad made him a look-and-find book from photographs he'd taken. This time, he brought another Grandpa Bear creation: Georgie Bear and Alfie Bear Have a Job to Do. I think it's safe to say that hours were spent pouring over and over this book. Grandpa also brought John Paul his own little bear and Grandma brought two other knitted bears sent from Aunty Maddy in Edmonton. The idea of bears and the Grandparents' Bear is firmly and permanently fixed in two little boys' minds.

 



























Joseph and John Paul were so happy to have them here. John Paul threw away his last vestiges of feigned disinterest in walking and thrilled everyone by walking all over the house before the visit ended. He also found it necessary to stay awake at night long after Joseph was in bed, just to get in time as the sole entertainer of his grandparents. They, of course, thought it cute and tallied up his winning points over his mom who just couldn't catch a break in getting him to sleep.

Joseph, meanwhile, basked in all-day reading privileges and someone to nap with or spend quiet-time with every afternoon. He took his grandparents to all the parks and was their pride and joy as they met all our neighbours around town (they like to chat with everyone... and I secretly believe for the purpose of hearing praises of their little boys).

Despite the boys' best efforts, we adults managed to get in a few late evenings of chit-chat, chips, wine, and tea.





We were, obviously, very sad to see them go. Both the boys and I miss always having someone ready and willing to read stories! Yet, even if little Tisdale has little to offer in the way of entertainment for bears, I think there are two little ones enticing enough to bring them back again soon.

 

Updates on Previous Post

Update #1

 

Glen Scrimshaw did a wonderful job yesterday. He broke his presentation into three parts: 1) advice (practice, confidence, being organized), 2) viewing his work as a kid, and seeing his improvement, 3) him making a picture in front of everyone, and explaining some of his technique.



 

 

 

Update #2

 

The Habs were pushed to the brink, but responded with a big 6-2 win. I keep repeating to Becca, "there's no room for error when down 3-0." I think she keeps repeating to me then to stop talking, or something. There's no room for error when talking to her!

 

 

Update #3

 

I need to edit my work better. Becca keeps finding grammatical errors in my blog. Sorry about that. What's worse, these are mistakes I'm always giving my grade fivers a hard time for. They're, their, there... Oh my. Again, no room for error.

 

 

Update #4

 

It's too easy to pick on certain things, and probably shows a lack of character on my part, yet sometimes people get what they deserve. Yes, I mean the picture. Catholic memes on facebook had some fun with it. Here are some responses to it:

 

 

 

 

Divine Mercy Image anyone? 



Points to Ponder - A "Banner" Year

1 - Have Mercy on Us

Let's get the ugly out of the way first. NCR online released the logo for this upcoming year of mercy.

I kid you not. The 1970s just threw up. And is Jesus (or is it a two headed monster) on water skis while shooting through a wave? What's with the two heads sharing an eye? Ironically enough, I just completed Michael O'Brien's very philosophical book on William Kurelek. O'Brien painstakingly describes what makes true art, and how truth should not be obscured or muddled in its representation. Here's an idea. Why not next time you need a logo for something, you just get Michael O'Brien to do it?


2 - True Art

Mr. Glen Scrimshaw is coming to our school tomorrow. He is the famous artist from Duck Lake who paints beautiful nature scenes such as:

Heck, why not have Glen Scrimshaw come up with a logo for the year of mercy? At the very least we'd get some northern lights, which is better than a three-eyed something er other.


3 - Testimonial Time

There will be no tears, I swear. But here goes...

A week and a half ago I had to do something I didn't want to. I was so busy with archery, report cards, the tragic events in Tisdale, as well as preparing for guests, that I had to spend a couple of hours at school working... on a Sunday. Thankfully it was only the first time all year that I had to, and hopefully the last. It was necessary work, and through no fault of my own was it left until Sunday.

So why the big deal about this? I'm just reflecting on this past year and how, since I made it a significant priority to have Sunday as it was meant to be, life has been better. In short, I don't have a clue how on earth I've been able to do it. I've never had a busier year in my life. New teaching assignments, extra-curricular work, house work, the boys being boys... once upon a time this would've meant rarely a weekend off. Not anymore. I always have a nice relaxing Sunday. Often we end up in Nipawin. Sometimes we even make it to Saskatoon. Occasionally we're stuck in Tisdale. Either way, we start our work week in a better frame of mind. The work week, then, is more productive. More productive work means another Sunday to relax. The cycle repeats. It's just been a really good thing for us this year.

I shouldn't be surprised, either. The good Lord is like that. You make an effort to follow His ways and He's there for you. No questions asked. This is not to make myself look good, but rather to suggest to all readers who from time to time sneak in unnecessary Sunday work to simply trust that it's better not to. Take a break.

There. Only a few tears. Maybe I need a hug too. Nothing more though.

4 - Grandpa and Grandma Bear

Yes, that's right. Joseph calls his "other" grandparents Grandpa and Grandma Bear, at the suggestion of Grandpa Bear. Anyway, they are at our house for the week. I'm already bracing for the letdown Joseph and John Paul will have next week when they're back to just having mom and dad around. Needless to say, the boys are having a remarkable time this week! I'll let Becca-the-Mommy-Blogger fill you in later.

5 - "Hello... You Play to Win the Game!"

Please, Montreal, remember those immortal words: "You play to win the game." They sure did their best to lose on Sunday night. It was rather painful to watch. Here's a super obvious prediction: if they don't win tonight then they're done. Carey Price or no Carey Price.

6 - Next Door Problems (Alberta NDP)

Well Alberta, having lived through the NDP in Saskatchewan for too many years, all I can say is better you than me. Why a province fueled by the energy sector would vote in socialists with a stated agenda to raise corporate taxes and rework the oil industry is beyond me. Have fun with that. I sort of like lower income tax and more jobs. And yes, I am a teacher.


7 - Album Review

Sorry, I don't actually have a review to give, yet. I'm talking about Mumford and Sons though, and their new "sound". Ditch the banjo. Ditch the double bass. Ditch the fancy poetry. Ditch the acoustic guitars... I'm a little nervous. I've only heard three of their new songs so far. One was very good (Snake Eyes). One was very mediocre (Believe). One wasn't that great at all (The Wolf). But if there's one thing I know about albums, often the hidden gems are not played on the radio. I expect some hidden gems in there. They have too much talent to let it all go to waste.

I tried reading a couple of reviews of the album (Wilder Mind). They were all gushing over the new sound, but were written by people who didn't like their old sound. Well that's useless. I guess I'll just have to wait and hear for myself.

Yes, yes. I will wait, I will wait...