A Person Could Get Used to This...

Here's me - on the inside.

Ever have one of those days where everything goes right?
     Today when I came home at lunch, I found out I got an A in my Municipal Law course! Then I checked email and learned that I placed third in the "best columnist" category in the Manitoba Community Newspapers Association awards (don't ask me what this means...I didn't even know I was nominated, but doesn't it sound important?) And just in case all that's not enough, when I got home from work, there was a bag of clothes waiting for me from friend Julianne!!
     If I weren't sick and exhausted, I'd definitely celebrate...

A Tribute to Teachers

Well, it's official. I'm out of my mind. I know this because when asked to take on a speaking engagement the same day I was writing a three-hour exam, I said yes. But in my defense, you probably would have, too. Let me explain.

     The group to which I'd be speaking was made up of school teachers. "Let's make sure I have this straight," I said. "There will be 40 or 50 teachers, expected to sit down and be quiet and listen while I talk?"

     Well, who could resist?

     So talk I did. I told them of my almost 80-year old mother, who quit school after Grade 9, got married, had five children, then continued her education until she could teach school, eventually earned two degrees and became a high school principal.

     I told them how disillusioned and heartbroken I was when I learned my beloved first grade teacher, Mrs. Cooper, got paid to teach us and wasn't doing it just out of love.

     I told how my two older sisters became teachers as well, how one of them was my Grade 5 teacher and how it was assumed I'd become a teacher too.

     I told them of my pseudo-teaching opportunities that elevated teachers to my highest regard and convinced me I had NOT missed my calling.

     We talked about the pursuit of dreams and using the gifts your Creator gave you and jazz like that. There's so much more I could have said. So today, with six weeks or so left in the school year, I offer to all teachers everywhere what I hope will be a little shot in the arm to see you through until the end of June.

     I try to imagine where I would be today without you, Teacher. Reading and writing alone, these most precious of gifts, are more than enough to create a debt of gratitude. Through the written words of others I have seen parts of the world I'll never see with my eyes, been encouraged to pursue my dreams, and gained understanding for life and eternity. Through words I have written, others have found hope, laughter, encouragement, and sometimes a role on stage! None of this would be true without the miracle of education.

     Without what you taught me, how would I balance my bank statement or pay my bills? Obtain a driver's license, a mortgage, a job? How would I know where my daughter is when she flies off to Europe or appreciate the rich history of our planet when I see a movie like The King's Speech?

     More than all of that, though, I want to thank you for the tenacity and genuine care with which you serve your students. Tom Brokaw said, "It's easy to make a buck.  It's a lot tougher to make a difference."

     If you are a teacher who makes winners of ordinary people, who believes in your students and tugs or pushes in turn, I applaud you. Your influence goes farther than you know. Don't take it lightly.

     And hang in there. Summer's coming.

So what if it's six years old...

This afternoon I'm off to the ACT Festival weekend in Winkler.

    "ACT" is the Association of Community Theatre in Manitoba. Groups from all around the province gather annually to perform short plays, to be critiqued and workshopped with professionals, and to enjoy one another's company. This year's theme, given the proximity to Mother's Day, is "Mother of All ACT Festivals."    

     At the Saturday night banquet and dance, you're supposed to wear something your mother gave you. Hopefully no one shows up in their birthday suit.

     I'll be wearing a red dress.

     In 2005, when my mother was wintering in Texas, she picked up two pretty dresses for me at a place called The Dress Barn. Twenty-five bucks each. She knew I'd be needing dresses since we had two weddings and a graduation, each of our three kids vying for who could be in the spotlight that year or something. Mom wouldn't have been offended if I hadn't liked the dresses, but I did. I wore the red one to Nate's wedding and the black printed one to both Reuben's grad and Mindy's wedding. This is either a testament to my mother's good taste or to my lack thereof. I like to think it's the former.

     So this dress works for the festival banquet on so many levels: it's a gift from my mother AND it's my mother-of-the-groom dress. Oh, and one more detail: I'll be wearing it on my son and daughter-in-law's anniversary. Six years to the day. Happy Anniversary, kids!

First Church of Gynecology and Obstetrics opening its doors!

It was 2008 and I was sitting in a gynecologist's waiting room awaiting a pre-op appointment. As I looked around the sweltering, packed little room, it dawned on me that every person in there was facing some sort of traumatic, life-changing situation. There were women who were pregnant, women who were hoping to be pregnant, and women who had just finished being pregnant and were adapting to life as exhausted new mothers. Others were probably desperately hoping to NOT be pregnant, ever. There were people like me, facing scary surgery. And then there were a few scattered and uncomfortable men, the guys who loved and supported these women.

     It occurred to me that all of these folks, whether they acknowledged it or not, could use in their lives some sort of higher power. The seed was planted in my little brain for a play.

     And that's how it came about, three years later, that the Prairie Players will be presenting First Church of Gynecology and Obstetrics at the annual ACT Festival in Winkler's PW Enns Centennial Concert Hall, May 13-15. The play is only 15 minutes long, but it's a great fit for the weekend's theme, "Mother of All ACT Festivals."

     You know what they say about mama bears. Get between her and her cub and she'll bite right through you. That's what moms are like. Don't mess with their babies. Writing and directing a play and then throwing it onto a stage for the world to see and critique feels much like putting your baby on display and giving others free rein to call it the ugliest child they ever laid eyes on. At some point in the rehearsal process, your baby is turning into an awkward adolescent and you inevitably find yourself thinking "who wrote this cheesy piece of crap?" But of course, no one else is allowed to say that. Then it all starts to come together and turns into something you're proud to call your offspring.

     It's been my privilege to work with talented local actors Vicki Hooke, Kevin Hamm, Melissa Draycott, Ember Rodgers, Natasha Klassen, Barb Knott, Terry Tully, Liz Driedger, Danica Turcotte, and with our technical helper Chris Kitchen. If you'd like to see this play, the public is welcome at any of the festival performances in Winkler. Check out the host group's website for more information: www.flatlandstheatre.com. Our performance will be Sunday, May 15, at 10:45 a.m.

     Or, if you really can't make it to Winkler, you could check out our dress rehearsal at the William Glesby Centre on Tuesday, May 10, at 8:00 p.m. Admission is free. Use the backstage (green) door. It's 15 minutes of your life you'll never get back. We're hoping you'll consider them well spent.

     Happy Mother's Day!

But This Wasn't How I Planned It

Well, that was interesting.

     I needed to go to the library today to reimburse LaDenna for the cost of sending my exam back to the university earlier this week. It was such a gorgeous day, I thought about walking but wasn't sure I wanted to use that much time for such a simple errand. When Jon came home for lunch, he suggested I catch a ride back uptown with him and then walk home. So I did.

     I decided to stop at the florist to get a thank-you flower for LaDenna, then walked to the library only to find out she was away but would be returning. So, I found a Lynn Austin book I hadn't read yet and made myself comfortable.

     Half an hour later when I checked back at the counter, LaDenna had returned. But by the time we finished our exchange, it was pouring outside! Now what?

     I don't usually do this well when my little agendas get messed up, but there are far worse places to be stranded than the library. So I surrendered to it and sat back down with my novel. I was beginning to think a hot cup of tea would make things perfect.

     Half an hour later, the rain let up and I started off, hopping over puddles. By the time I finished my banking and post office errands, the sun was out again. It stayed out, warm and bright, the entire walk home along our gorgeous lakeside walking path.

     The whole thing took longer than it would have had I walked both ways. However, had I walked both ways...or had LaDenna been there when I first arrived...or had I not thought to stop for the flower...I surely would have been caught in the downpour on my walk home.

     So there you have it. I got my exercise, LaDenna got her money and a flower, and I got home safe and dry with a wonderful novel I hadn't planned to pick up. The name of the book? A Light to My Path.

My Grand Boys

These are our grandsons, Keegan and Allistar! Cutie Patooties, eh?

God Heard You

Thank You to those who prayed for me yesterday! As I wrote the Municipal Law exam, I became aware of God's nudges, bringing to mind things I had studied but would never have recalled on my own. I'm just not that smart. And being able to sit in a room all alone (as opposed to a classroom full of test-takers) is awesome for someone like me who finds it helpful to read the questions aloud and talk to myself. Pretty sure I passed. Thanks to LaDenna at our local library for invigilating.

Then I was off to McKenzie United Church where 47 teachers and retired teachers from around the province were assembled for their annual sorority conference. I got there early enough to enjoy the musicians scheduled to perform after lunch, a male/female duet with vocals, piano and guitar. Folksy, easy kind of music from the Beatles and some Canadian composers as well. One song they did was Hawksley Workman's "You're Safe and Sound with Me," and I smiled at the repeating hook line, choosing to take the song as Jesus singing those words to me and calming my nerves before I got up to speak. Safe and Sound.

The audience was great. I didn't have to whack anyone with a ruler. They listened, they laughed in most of the right places, and I saw quite a few wiping tears away too. I appreciate teachers more than I can say and will write about that one day soon.

In the evening, Jon and I went on a weird date, taking both vehicles because only one of us wanted to see the play. We had a delicious supper at Sticky Bill's, then parted ways. By then the storm was in full force, but the show must go on and the Prairie Players did a remarkable job presenting David's Mother to an impressively-sized audience given the weather. Well done, everyone!

Not being able to get into the driver's side door of my car because it was iced up, having to scrape ice and snow off the windshield, sliding around on the drive home, and then getting stuck in the drifts in our driveway were the perfect ending to my big day. Home safe and sound.