The Second Time Around

Right now I am repeating material from the first two weeks of the first time I started second semester. It is not as overwhelming this time, because I've gone through it all before, plus I have less classes to contend with. Still I am supposed to be very busy and I still have reviewing to do and preparations for each class.

My clinical teacher is new to the program, but seems very competent and also kind. I think she will be tough, but fair. My clinical group appears to be a good mix of people too.

I am getting enough sleep and rest and I am still exercising as much as I can fit into my schedule. So far so good. Volunteering went fairly well too, and I learned how to operate a popcorn machine... maybe I can be a street vendor if this doesn't work out for me!

Maybe next post I can post a picture I took with my new camera. It is one that is very simple to use, but I haven't figured it all out yet. My sis is going to give me lessons as needed.

School Again!

Tomorrow I reimmerse myself in the world of academics, skill practising, and patient care. I have to admit I am apprehensive about knowing what to do in crisis health situations and remembering my skills and critical thinking on the fly. A former nurse told me after the first ten times it will become instinctive and old hat and I hope that all I have learned will come back to me and I will know what to do.

I have Fridays off from school, but I think I will take that day to practice my skills in the Learning Resource Centre. I have a three-hour morning Monday class with an afternoon brief session of an hour, two days of clinical on Tuesday and Wednesday, and then an afternoon Thursday class which will require the largest amount of work to prepare for. Since I don't have Computers or Sociology, I have a somewhat reduced schedule.

I shouldn't worry about tomorrow, but so many things are unknown, I wonder how it will all work out. I hope I have a good clinical class and teacher and that we can work well as a team. This year I am also a volunteer for Mohawk, so Tuesday I will be busy all day with the festivities most likely.

Consider it Pure Joy

Trials, testings, and times when everything seems to go wrong don't seem to lend themselves to a joyful attitude. It sends me either to anger or towards a pity party or bitching session. But it must be possible to have the result of horrible injustices or persecution, such as I have never experienced, be pure joy.

The apostles and early church rejoiced that they were counted worthy to be persecuted for the Name. They knew the resurrection power of Christ, but also the might of the atonement on the cross and how it could change everything, beginning in the human heart. They were beaten and remained joyful and obedient.

My comfort is sometimes paramount in my decision-making process. I don't want to be afflicted and I won't share my true opinion to a hostile audience. I can soft-pedal or back-pedal or say something extremely vague. I can double-talk or say nothing at all. But some things are worth expressing an unpopular opinion about and some people deserve to be fought for, because they have no voice or cannot be heard.

Must I surrender my right to be comfortable, my right to remain silent, my right to put myself first? Is the grace I have received great enough that I can have grace for others who have wronged me or offended me?

CS Lewis said "The Weight of Glory" was a burden he felt in his life, that every person he met was either bound for a glorious future or a horrific one without hope and God. They were really Kings and Queens, no matter how humble or commonplace they appeared, or, alternatively, they would one day lose everything they had built on the wrong foundation.

Following One Day in Utter Suspense Accompanied by Worst Case Scenarios...

... I found out that I actually can register in the September semester! And now I am registered, and my weekend will be immensely improved... I was thinking I had to do some more of the old job hunting until January. Now I can rejoin my classmates and learn about medications, injections, IV's, and wound care, important skills to becoming a full-fledged nurse. I am so relieved! Now the work of improving my skills begins...

An Elegy to A Park That Is No More

Here are my nephew and I on our way to the park right across from our house. The swing sets are now torn out as of yesterday, the same day they tore out the soccer goal posts. I was glad Christina wasn't around to see that sad sight. The plan is to build a new play area in a different location after tearing out the old which isn't actually such an old park. There will also be a parking lot for the baseball folks and four baseball diamonds for young children, I assume, because the park isn't big enough for older players who can hit the ball further. What was once Seneca school has been torn down and will be replaced with 48 detached houses.

Alas, the park where I frolicked with Christina when she was a young toddler, back in my teenage years, will soon pass away. Alas, the swing sets I swung her in as a baby are now torn up. Alas, the field where she spent many carefree hours playing soccer is now piles of dirt with the poles ripped out of the ground. I think I said alas too many times, but I really don't know any synonyms. Needless to say, change is happening in our neighbourhood and we are going to have many new neighbours eventually, and a smaller park. On the bright side, both the parking lot and new houses are not going to be right next to our house.

Of Curveballs and Lemonade

Suddenly everything is up in the air with me and everything is about to be rearranged in a different order, depending how things land and the velocity of the wind. In other words, a person may make plans, but God directs her steps. I don't really know why everything had to fall apart in order to be rearranged, but at least I know the interior designer has the best of intentions and life isn't over until you actually kick the bucket.

I think I have more things to accomplish and more life to live, so I am going to sing into the winds of adversity and cast my bread upon the waters and then I am just going to sit tight and see what God will do with me and my life. The storm may be over internally, but the ripples are still forever altering the shape of my life.

I am waiting and that's all I can do right now. I am calm and I am getting stronger in the broken places. Whatever happens I have someone right beside me, so I will be okay.

Three Dears and a Fox

Last afternoon I got back from my trip which featured stops in Belleville, Montreal, Ottawa, and Port Perry. I was tutored in my new birthday camera by my tech-savvy sister, and I am sort of getting the hang of it. I saw my sister's apartment and a small section of Montreal which I found very impressive indeed architecturally and also commercially and artistically. I posed by graffiti that proclaims "I love cheese." Even the graffiti seemed thoughtful and well-done.

I also saw John and Laurianne, their sky-diving video (fantastique!), and their apartment. We went to a wonderful Chinese restaurant close to where they live and the food was amazing.

In Port Perry I saw Jono and Janice, their four kids, Laura and her fiancee Brad, two of my aunts, and my Oma who served us so much food for tea we really weren't hungry for supper afterwards. This did not deter us in the least from polishing off the left-overs from my birthday meal. Only the pie remains, and is in very poor shape so we shall soon finish that as well.

On my birthday, a day in which I was very spoiled by my parents and siblings, I went for a hike with three of my sisters to a spot we have often cross-country skiied. We saw three deer and a fox, and we played Pooh sticks and then had a photo shoot. In our photos we looked like dryads or angels, or maybe more like three dears and a fox. Once I have the photos I will post one or two.



My talented photographer sister gets all the credit for setting up this shot and for the interesting effect obtained. There was also another series that wasn't quite as nice where Christina and I looked angelic. I guess we don't exactly look like dryads... my imagination does take certain creative liberties. Still it is a good composition and an interesting photo.

30 Years Old

It feels like an ending, but also a beginning. It is the end, probably, of my daily posts on this blog, it is the end of being able to say I am 29, it is the end of a decade. It is the beginning of a new era, the beginning of a decade which I hope to hope to start and finish strong, and the beginning of what I hope will be a new maturity...

Today my Mom is speaking at our church which I am very much anticipating. Then we will have the traditional birthday meal followed by a lemon meringue pie and presents. My Dad is away at a men's retreat until early evening, but Linda will be here. Following that we will be Montreal bound to drop off Rachel at school, we will stop for a hotel in Belleville, drive the rest of the way, and then go up to Ottawa for a short visit with John and Laurianne. After that we will drive home, stopping in at Oma's for tea on the way.

Later today I may post a birthday picture, of me in my new decade of life. I don't look my best right now due to seasonal allergies, but by afternoon I should be feeling less congested. I may also report on how many things on my bucket list I actually accomplished this year, which I would guess is more than half, but probably no more than 17 of the things. I will have to look at the list again soon to check for sure.




Photo credit L. den Boer who gave me this shirt as a gift.

Sometimes You Just Wish Your Watermelon Had Pits

Here's my family about two months ago. With such a beautious and long back porch on which to expectorate seeds, you can bet we were all wishing we didn't have one of those new-fangled watermelons. Some of us are excellent spitters and the others ones need to practice. I won't say what category I fall into!

My Twenties in Hindsight

Today is the last day of being in my twenties. I started university right after my 20th birthday and I was in school for the next four and a half years, graduating officially in 2005 with a BA in Honours English and Religion and a well-developed sense of literary and theological snobbery.

Next I tried out the job search thing, and various careers in office work and general labour nursery work. After that I had a health crisis which took me some time to recover from, so I was working in propagation nursery work as I was recovering and beyond. I did part-time schooling and full-time seasonal work for a year and then I finally got into a good college program.

Now I am a full-time student and I am turning 30 just as I am entering my second of four semesters in Practical Nursing. I also did full-time work and took two classes in New Testament Greek for one year with the end goal of grad school, leading up to my health crisis. I still find writing, languages, and religion fascinating, although I do also love health sciences and studying about the human body and pathology as well; I remain committed to the goal of being qualified to help others dealing with health crises, caring for them, and promoting health.

Although I recently became slightly active on the dating scene through an online website I absolutely do not endorse, I haven't had a serious relationship in my twenties. I think for me this is a very positive thing, because I am still in the process of healing and becoming whole and finding my life's direction.

As far as hobbies, I love watching movies, and crocheting, sometimes simultaneously. I love reading as well, but not as much as when I was a teen when I was a book worm who could polish off three books a week. Walking, hiking, and enjoying the outdoors are also highly diverting activities for me. Baking is something I do for fun. I love to get together with friends one on one and just talk about what's on my heart and what's up with them. I love to write; even school papers are a good challenge. I enjoy any time some one asks me a question about the Bible... I might not know the answer but I may pretend I do. :)

Despite the fact I don't really want to be in my thirties, maybe it will be a better decade for me. I am more mature, more self-aware, more eager to follow in the path of Christ, and someday I will be ready for stepping into whatever God has for me as a career path, in relationships, and with family. Until then I'll take it one day at a time, beginning with my very first day being 30 tomorrow!

A Man of the Cloth

The amount of respect I had for him in that moment was inversely proportional to the amount of pressure he was applying to my head. I placed my feet further apart and pushed back. He applied counterpressure but there was no way I was falling, especially not in front of Jim, his mother and his brother.

I asked myself why this should be THE altar call, the one I had been long waiting for, the one that I had vowed to go up to the front for. Sure, he had called for anyone with "oppression, depression and any kind of pression" which was a little on the broad side and also, I recalled, he was well versed with my medical history.

He stood there in what was later described to me as a $3000 suit, waiting for me to fall, and water burst forth from the blister that had been forming for some time, and all that was left was the empty skin shell.

Later my coworker Jim and I discussed in length his tendency for mini-sermons on prosperity right before the offering, and his long-winded prayers afterwards invoking God to open the windows of heaven and pour out a blessing. We agreed it was manipulative, although the promises in the Bible were there in black ink.

From this moment I gradually extricated myself from his camp, and when his empire later fell due his infidelity to the mother of his children and his adultery revealed in plain sight, dropping his charisma points to near bankruptcy, I was only slightly more disillusioned and in my youthful cynicism not very surprised.

Tungsten and I Making a Scarf

I love crocheting and Tungsten loves yarn. She was very interested in this project, which was beautiful but not very functional due to the fuzzies the acrylic yarn leaves everywhere. She used to be more of a lap sitter, but still loves attention!

Like Dust in the Wind

Change unsettles me and I find myself digging in my heels, and trying to stay in one place as life drags me along. I cried and was periodically sad for a couple of months when my younger sister moved away to school. One Coldplay song in particular often moved me to a silent stream of swift-flowing tears. She was growing up and in Montreal would be legal drinking age... she would come home, but it wouldn't ever be the same as before.

I still picture my grade school as the old building, even though I have been in the new building numerous times. I remember the yellow-gold curtains and the grade four portable, the spot where I split open my chin on the ice, the kindergarten doors which we would visit from time to time, the spot between the portables where we endlessly traded stickers, the pavement where we played our skipping games, the gravel where we staked our claims in Land.

I can precisely envision my grandparent's house in Corinth, which was over 100 years-old. Even though they lived nearly a decade in another dwelling, to me this was always their home. I remember the greenhouse, the smell of potting soil, the moist feel of the tiny little plants, the sound of "Big Bad John" or "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" enlivening the atmosphere from the ancient radio on St. Patrick's Day.

I remember my grandparent's bedroom which my sister and I slept in at night; we were always falling towards each other, and sometimes were awakened by the trains shaking the house after the warning signal shattered the quiet murmur of the night. That happened more often though in the smaller bedroom in a different era, when we would awaken to count the cars between the engine and the caboose... I had the cot and my sister had the bed with our scratchy but clean and well-aired blankets. We had a tiny black and white tv in the room we could sometimes watch tv on, but the grainy images deterred us from watching much, especially when there was a better television down the winding stairs. My brother had a room to himself in the front of the house, where there was also a crib and beneath it a communication to the downstairs living room.

I can recall how many times we ran to a window to catch a glimpse of the black buggies clip-clopping past and how excited we were when the general store owner across the tracks gave us penny candy for free. I remember Tinkerbell who mimicked the sounds of the outside birds attracted by numerous feeders.

Recalling the beauties of the gardens and remembering the back porch cookie and juice breaks, I am pierced by a sadness, because, not only are my grandparents passed into glory, but also this place does not remain the same except in my memory. Now junk clutters the greenhouse and the house has been disemboweled to re-adjust it to pre-electricity and convenience days.

Some places you can no longer return to, and some habits you must replace. Some people you have to say good-bye to, and eventually you yourself will be old and your memories scattered to the wind like so many particles of dust.

On This Day in Paris, France...

...my Dad made a premature entry into the world. He was a tiny little baby and his father later admitted to being disappointed about his small stature. He was three weeks ahead of schedule, which I am sure he would always hope to be. The doctors and nurses fed him with sea water as well as his mother's milk. At this time, no one guessed that the baby taken home on a Harley Davidson motor bike by his young Dutch-speaking parents would grow up to be an accountant in the fair country of Canada or that he himself would have six children, primarily daughters, but also a son who would bear the name of two grandfathers, as well as the Pope and two uncles.

Happy Birthday Dad! I love you and I appreciate your hard work, dedication, parenting through the years, and your integrity.


Our fearless leader who got us back from mosquito haven and swamp city.
Wow he must not be THAT old. He is still just as good as Father William.

You Are Old, Father William By Lewis Carroll

'You are old, Father William', the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head --
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'

'In my youth', Father William replied to his son,
'I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.'

'You are old', said the youth, 'as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door --
Pray, what is the reason of that?'

'In my youth', said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
'I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment - one shilling the box -
Allow me to sell you a couple?'

'You are old', said the youth, 'and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak -
Pray, how did you manage to do it?'

'In my youth', said his father, 'I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.'

'You are old', said the youth, 'one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose -
What made you so awfully clever?'

'I have answered three questions, and that is enough,'
Said his father, 'don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!'

The Battle Within: Demanding Childish Whiner Vs. Grateful Child-like Winner

Sometimes I wonder how God looks at my constant demand for things to go my way. I wonder if he ever wishes he could give me a little shake and tell me to snap out of it. I mean I know all the answers (or so I think), but sometimes I am childish and I whine much like the children of Israel in the desert. I don't learn the lesson the first time so I get stuck in the wilderness again.

I know I will eventually enter the rest the author of Hebrews speaks of, but I have had so much grace along the way, I have had so many tantrums with God, I have refused to move forward so many times, I wonder how he put up with me and my stiff-necked arrogance for so many years.

It can only be the kind of love that made Jesus stay on the cross, while others were ridiculing and insulting him and daring him to show his power. I can't understand the depths of that love, because if I was God I wouldn't put up with the kind of stunts I pull on a regular basis.

I wonder if I can now gracefully handle God saying "No" or "Wait" to one of my most earnest pleas. Can I be grateful for all he has done and celebrate who He is, without needing constant gratification of my every whim? Can I learn to be joyful in difficult situations when I would rather scream or punch someone? Can I learn to be self-controlled and alert and aware of who the true enemy is? Sometimes the hardest thing to conquer in life is yourself, because selfishness is ingrained in the very fabric of who you are.

Celebrity Obsession:

Suddenly I Just No Longer Care

So celebrities sometimes don't have their look all together, and they sometimes have a bad hair day? Thanks for this gripping insight, but I'll skip the pictorial evidence today. And this is supposed to comfort me, because I don't look like them after they've gotten professional hair and make-up done, and sometimes plastic surgery or they have been strategically air-brushed? And this is news, when there are people who don't even have hair because they are going through chemo, and when there are people who wish their hair was their biggest concern, but they are worried about survival and safety, clean water, food and shelter and more basic things? And I helped feed this media frenzy for years, by always caring what Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie were doing and what was happening with Katie Holmes?

I feel ashamed that I contribute every day to the celebrity obsession by continually paying attention to all this celebrity gossip. I even feel ashamed that I personally care so much about my own hair and appearance.

Somehow I think our society has a sickness that is obvious to an outside observer, but we've been inside the pot so long we don't realize the water is approaching scalding and the best we have to offer, at least in our popular culture, is some false ideal of beauty and a belief that somehow science can fix what we've done to this earth. We search for something real in the midst of all the glitter and sparkle; we turn to spirituality and Mother Earth, but we still haven't found what we are looking for. We numb ourselves with entertainment or maybe with some other less benign addictions. We are told we deserve the best, and we should buy the best, but in reality we all must continue to buy or our society of consumption will implode. Then we will be left with our purchases and maybe without a few other basic necessities for our North American lifestyle, and possibly at this point we may wonder what has happened to our soul... Did we sell it or just ignore it for too long?

One More Week and Then...

So now I have less than a week and then I hit the big 3-0. I am not inspired to write anything beautiful or profound or even humorous.

I had a good day with church in the park in the rain and fellowship before, during, and afterwards. I had some time to visit with my friend Vicky and it got rather animated which is normal for us... We really do get each other going! We've had similar experiences which we laugh about. And then I saw Vicky's husbands new kitten and saw a little fashion show put on by Christina and her friend. And we planned a shopping trip for accessories and shoes for Christina's friend.

We've had dinner and now we are going to watch the sequel to "THE GODS MUST BE CRAZY" which we saw last night right before my mom mercilessly beat my dad at a game of Scrabble. I didn't play because when the three of us play I always lose, and I hate losing. Yes, I am one of those people who has to win Scrabble and Settlers of Catan and Balderdash and any game I think I have a chance of winning.

The funny thing is last weekend I went to a Euchre tournament and the whole time I thought I was losing and then it turned out I had the second highest score and I am not even a very good player. I won this wonderful prize basket too. I am still not sure how I beat all these excellent Euchre players, unless they were all playing for the most lone hands and failing to win consistently. My Dad is a better Euchre player than me, but he wasn't getting good cards and when he did he wasn't able to call it. So now I can go out to a restaurant in Burlington for a meal sometime, plus I got some Avon products, a beautiful pad of paper to write on with a pen, and a very nice basket. On top of all that this past week my friend gave me a beautiful new ring that I love and my sister's friend gave me three gorgeous pairs of earrings as pre-birthday gifts. I am not sure what to expect for my actual birthday! But I promise to be on my best behaviour as befits someone in their third decade (or is it actually my fourth decade since now I'll be working towards 40?). Oh dear... I am going to miss my twenties!

You Know You're Getting Older When...

... The unstylish outfits you used to wear as a teen are suddenly "retro."
... The people you used to babysit are now babysitters themselves.
... The station you listened to as a young adult now grates on your nerves. Does every song have to be about "getting it on?" Just saying!
... Your peers have children who are past kindergarten age and even some of them are nearly as old as your younger sister.
... You tell stories of how different things were back when you went to high school and/or grade school, and every one is tired of these stories.
... You can't recall who you have told what story... but aren't panicked because they were all basically true, or only slightly embellished for dramatic effect.
... You act like a mother even though you have no children. Your sister is annoyed by your maternal side.
... Some of your peers are now university professors or published authors.
... You remember back when it is was cool to say "Not!" after everything you didn't mean.
... You fondly recall Cabbage Patch Dolls, Smurfs, CareBears, and Pound Puppies. You used to watch Today's Special, The Green Forest, and Fraggle Rock.
... You actually used to think Barbie was pretty, and not horribly deformed. Your only regret is you never had a Ken doll, because at least he was well-proportioned.
... You love The Princess Bride and think it was the best movie ever.
... You don't like Zac Ephron and don't know if you just misspelled his name.
... You have ceased caring for the Hollywood Stars who are younger than you and their personal lives. You still hope for the best for Lindsay Lohan.
... You find Lady Gaga very catchy, but she annoys you almost every time you turn on the radio.
... You don't think Madonna is actually so "old", just highly intelligent, a postmodernist par excellence, and an unstoppable force.
... You missed the Twilight boat, and you are not sorry.
... You no longer care about reality tv, because you think it is only going downhill from here.
... You may feel like you are still nineteen at times, but you know the mirror does not lie. You are hoping for laugh lines.

Food: A Passion That Never Dies...

...especially if it is Chocolate (or sweet)!

I love food. I relish a chocolate bar to the extent of licking up any spare crumbs from the wrapper, I savour every morsel out of expensive chocolatier's chocolate, I love baked potatoes with sour cream and chives, steak that is tender and moist, chicken drowning in creamy sauce. I enjoy stir-frys with spices and special sauce, fresh vegetables with the perfect sour cream and herb dip, and raspberries with a dab of Josie's Famous Fruit Dip.

I can't get enough of fresh pineapples, coconut, oranges which drip down my fingertips. I love apples with peanut butter and peanut butter by itself at any time of day. In summertime I enjoy ice cream in the midst of a heat wave, with chunks of chocolate or fruit or cream cheese. Fruit pies, cheesecakes, chocolate cake, lemon meringue pie... how delightful! I love cheese in big chunks and spicy appetizers drizzled with oil, and toasted to perfection. Mixed nuts are not safe around me, and chocolate ice cream will be plundered of the choicest morsels, chocolate chips will mysteriously disappear while peanut butter smears appear upon the countertop.

My family can probably name hundreds of instances in which I have argued about, complained about, or made unreasonable demands about food. Also I am the biggest eater of my own baking, and I love to bake the most decadent food our kitchen ingredients will allow. I like to cook sometimes, but baking is one of my favourite past-times.

As much as I love food, if I ate every time I had a craving or even every time I feel a slight pang of hunger, I know I would balloon a few more dress sizes. My stomach is a part of my body, one that thinks it wants it all; it can complain it is getting less, but I will simply follow some old advice to eat a small amount of a variety of foods, to drink water when it is not time to indulge my appetites, and to exercise self-control. So stomach... get used to disappointment, and food, you are no longer my master! Wait a second, as I reread the first part I can feel my mouth watering... But I will never surrender! At least not until lunch time!

DayDream Believer

For me there has always been some kind of mystique to an island. Growing up I heard about the Thousand Islands, and my sister read to me a story of some kids who ran away from their parents and escaped to an island. The fact that she decided to stop reading the story part-way only fascinated me more. Then there is Huckleberry Finn and Jim on a raft going down the Mississippi river, a story my mother read to me in childhood, a tale full of their hideouts on remote tiny little rocks. As an adolescent I loved the novel by Lucy Maud Montegomery called "The Blue Castle" wherein Valcancy Stirling, once a staid and timid old maid, defies her family and marries in a backwoods ceremony a disreputable rakish man, and they live together on his island in the Muskokas. It turns out that he is her favourite author who writes about the beauty of the woods and he is also the son of a self-made millionaire who peddled patent medicine.

I love the northern wilderness, and in high school I decided that someday I wanted to be an author who owned her own island and went there in summers to write and reflect. I wanted to go there with my ruggedly handsome husband by motor boat, and bring along our progeny in the form of towheaded little rascals and beautiful little russet-haired princesses. This island didn't have to be very big, just large enough for a rustic cottage and some outlying buildings.

I wasn't sure how I could ever afford this island, and my plan wasn't just to marry someone rich. So I dreamed that I would become an award-winning journalist who traveled the world as a young ambitious woman.

This dream was just a castle in the air; more of a daydream than something I ever expected to actually happen. And life took me in different directions and now I am a student studying practical nursing, and I am not rich enough to even buy my own house on a tiny little lot. But that's okay, because riches are not necessarily owning your own island or Fortune 500 company. Riches are a family who loves you, friends who support you, blessings that fill your life even in the midst of disappointment and pain. Joy and peace, love and hope: these are all riches that money cannot buy and they are free gifts to any who would reach for them, who would seek and find, and open the door to the One who knocks.

The image is of my family at Doe Lake, on the dock in front of our rented cottage. Photo credit M. den Boer.