A Fellow Traveller

It's been nine years since my son first began delivering the Welland Tribune in the mornings. Initially I woke him when he slept through his alarm and drove him around during rain and thunder storms but he was left to become quite independent on the job. Over the years he became proficient on roller-blades but never enjoyed delivering or collecting from customers over in a new subdivision. Being separated from our street by undeveloped land, it took an additional fifteen minutes of walking to get around the block and back. Since I did not enjoy being the nagging voice, "Just get up earlier," I finally offered to start walking over with those few papers. Little did I know what would become of that simple decision. I am discovering that I actually enjoy the quiet of the morning and the fresh air of a new day. I have learned the importance of dressing for the weather and having sturdy footwear. I've grown to appreciate my neightbours as I have collected and converse

I have a friend who has been encouraging me all year long with cards and small gifts, always accompanied by a short note "Thinking of You". As a retired teacher herself, she remembers the pressures and expectations daily in the workplace. She also understands about a voice that gives out regularly and has been giving me simple things like throat lozenges and herbal tea. When I opened a gift of a small book last night, I felt overwhelmed by her kindness once again. I have done nothing to deserve such gifts. My first thought it, "What can I give back to her?" but then I realize this gifting is much bigger than that! Out of the love that I keep receiving from her comes the strength and desire to give to others in unexpected ways. I find myself looking for encouraging words and smiles to give in the workplace. I think of things to write to encourage parents in what's really important for children and I find creative ideas coming for the teaching task at hand.

Walking after a fresh snowfall this morning, I felt like I was the first out to enjoy the morning until I came upon interesting tracks. It didn't take me long to picture who had been out before me, as a zig zag pathway intersected with straight footprints along the sidewalk. I pictured a dog wandering off to each side as new things caught his eye, while the leash kept pulling him back to the sidewalk. It reminded me of an interesting conversation at school last week. It you were to walk into our school during the month of December, the hall would be solely lit by outdoor coloured lights that have been suspended from the ceiling in a continuous zig zag pathway end to end. The first time the Grade one's walked under the lights, I challenged them to see if they could walk in a straight line while looking at the lights in the zig zag path on the ceiling. As I looked behind, most children were wandering as they walked. The second time we tried it, interesting conversation resu

Not all umbrellas are the same, as are many different kinds of rainfall. Yesterday I experienced walking outside during a heavy rainfall but I held a new umbrella, the kind golfers use. It was so heavy and sturdy that my arm was soon aching as I tried to find new ways to hold and balance it. I was kept dry as it gave complete protection from the elements but now my fold-up one seems quite inferior. I'm also thinking of what else gives protection and my list is growing. Shoes give protection to feet as does clothing to the body. Homes give protection from the elements of all kinds, especially during bad weather. Immunization gives protection from illness and insurance gives protection from fire and accidents. Families give protection to children as they love and instill enduring values. God's love is a kind of protection as well from whatever life deals us. We can't really insulate ourselves fully from the bad in life, but if God's love covers us, we can walk thro

I so enjoy the fall leaf colours that I find myself picking up special ones, hoping to enjoy them longer. Even as I press them, the colours begin quickly fading until over time, they too are brown. The other morning, as I was stooping to gather some maple leaves that were a vibrant mix of yellow and red, a lady in her housecoat stepped out on her porch, asking if I had lost something. As I apologized for worrying her and explained what I was doing, I realized what I must look like. Even my explanation of being a Kindergarten teacher didn't seem to make much difference. It seemed like the middle of the night, yet here I was picking up leaves in the streetlight. On this Remembrance Day, as I prepare to explain to young children about remembering, I realize how quickly memories fade away. When past events are close in time, we retain the emotions and can recount endless details that give colour and life to those of the past. Without stories of real happenings, with details that m

While walking through piles of dry crunchy leaves, I stopped to pick up a bright yellow maple leaf that seemed totally out of place. It was perfectly formed with no imperfections or blemishes, 'picture perfect' in so many ways. As I walked home with it, I felt like I had rescued it from the graveyard of that tree. But would admiring it bring it back to life? Had I noticed it before it's former beauty was only a memory? Would valuing it make any difference? As I walked in from school yesterday, I caught the end of a video on Oprah on the life of a boy who lived only 99 days. I saw 99 balloons released into the air for each day of a life that brought joy to his family. Tears came to my eyes as I realized the value placed on his life and the love that had surrounded him. Am I being selfish to want to hang on to all those that I love and cherish in my life? Maybe the saddest thing is a life that passes with no one to appreciate or value it. Although I have no control over

Last night I experienced the beauty of a full moon. My attention was captured by an intense spot of light on a dark kitchen floor as I walked in to turn on a light. It wasn't until I got down on my knees that I could see where it was coming from through the trees. I started my walk with a sense of anticipation. Living in the city of Welland, I walk by streetlight which has always seemed to be bright enough. But in comparison to the full moon, something is lacking. Even though electrical lights can brighten my path, there was a unique brilliance to the light that came from the moon. If that reflected light was so brilliant, what was the source like? I could only imagine, because I have never been able to look directly into the sun. I kept being drawn to the moonlight, especially as I walked into dark places. That's when I started to notice the shadows; from houses, trees and myself. Is moonlight always capable of producing defined shadows? When walking home, I noticed wispy

The first thing I do when I step outside to walk in the morning is to look at the sky. At this time of the year, I feel like it is still the middle of the night, even when my watch says 6 a.m. Today there were no sparkling stars and only a glimpse of the full moon of the night before. The clouds were only visible in the area around the moon. I hoped that by the time I came back, the moon would be shining brightly. At the halfway point, the brilliance of the moon became more exposed but I was still relying on artificial light. I started thinking of dark days and how we sometimes have to walk with only artificial light. Don't we really only need light for the next few steps that we take? Why do we expect to see the whole journey? Would it help us to see each bump ahead? Isn't it better to look up, knowing that behind the clouds is Light strong enough to illuminate any path? Even the reflected light of the moon is strong enough to illuminate, all because of the awesome li

How do you have a thankful heart when you get bad news? I walked into church Sunday morning and sat beside my mother. I heard her tell someone that she was finding it hard to be thankful when she had bad news....and then I heard the word 'cancer'. I wondered who she was talking about and that's when she broke down and told me about the recent words from the doctor,"There's nothing we can do." I put my arm around her and we talked until the service started. I encouraged her as best I could, knowing that she has been dealing with intense nerve pain for years from something else. This seemed different, more final and more impossible. Then the service began and the music began to flow all around me. As I sat there, my mind started to deal with the implications. I do not want to go down that road right now! I have enough to deal with in my own life with it's busyness and stresses. It was something I knew was inevitable, but why was this happening now? W