Friday, July 02, 2021

O Canada

 O Canada! 

Our home and native land!


True patriot love in all of us command.


With glowing hearts we see thee rise,


The True North strong and free!


From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.


REFRAIN:
God keep our land glorious and free!


O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.



Canada! Where pines and maples grow,


Great prairies spread and lordly rivers flow,


How dear to us thy broad domains, 


From East to Western sea!


Thou land of hope for all who toil!


Thou True North, strong and free!


(Refrain)

O Canada! Beneath thy shining skies


May stalwart sons and gentle maidens rise,



To keep thee steadfast through the years


From East to Western sea,


Our own beloved native land,


Our True North, strong and free!


(Refrain)

Ruler Supreme, Who hearest humble prayer,


Hold our dominion within Thy loving care.
(Justin Tang / The Canadian Press) 

Help us to find, O God, in Thee
A lasting, rich reward,


As waiting for the Better Day,


We ever stand on guard


God keep our land glorious and free!


O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.



Friday, June 11, 2021

Dear Mum and Dad

 June 10 would have been your 60th wedding anniversary.


How striking you both looked on June 10, 1961, ready to take on the world, "striving together" - your inscription inside your wedding bands. 

And for 46 years you did just that. You both worked diligently and without complaint, a true team even when you weren't physically together in the same city. 

Our home was filled with laughter, with singing, with conversation. With people. 

With love. 

You raised the six of us to love each other. You instilled into us that old acrostic for JOY:

                                       Jesus first

                                      Others next

                                      Yourself last

And you walked the talk. There are many people in many parts of the world who can attest to your love for God, your love for each other, your love for your kids (both us and the many others whom you also loved and prayed for faithfully), and your love for pretty much anyone with whom you came into contact. 

You both enjoyed teaching and you were good at it, investing into your students' lives. 

You lived life to the fullest, with integrity, curiosity and enthusiasm. 

On what should have been your 50th anniversary, Dad prepared a crown roast banquet for us, complete with fine china and the antique silverware he lovingly polished because "that's what Mum would have liked." 


After the feast, we all went out to the graveyard and we sang some of the mighty old hymns: "Amazing Grace" and "Great is Thy Faithfulness" and "Because He Lives I Can Face Tomorrow". Even though one of you was in heaven and the other still on earth, it didn't seem like you were that far apart. 

And now, for your 60th anniversary - even though I am not sure how it all plays out up there - I imagine you are together, even closer than you were down here. 

We are all doing okay, for the most part. You wouldn't have liked the last 15 months if you had still been with us: your deepest earthly joy was to be together as a family. But the vicissitudes of life without you have kept us close to each other, and nothing can take away that bond. That is something you both prayed for, I know. Thank you for teaching us that the greatest of all is love. 

We would never wish you back; but, oh, how we miss you! 

I can just hear you singing to us ... 

Goodnight, our God is watching o'er you
Goodnight, His mercies go before you
Goodnight, and we'll be praying for you
So goodnight, may God bless you. 





Tuesday, June 08, 2021

A Picture of Me Without You

 Sunday did not start off well.

I was leading the singing at church, and we also had a couple of my sisters as well as friends from Calgary who were going to be attending at the 11 o'clock service.

"It is so important for me to know that you will be there," I said to the Good Rancher as I got ready for the day. 

"Don't worry; I will be," he reassured me as he pulled on his jeans and his jacket and prepared to do chores. 

I called him from the 855 as I left for the first service at 10:00. "Yup, everything's going even better than normal. I'll be heading in to shower and change in just a few minutes." 

The first service was beautiful, with my friend Sharalynn singing with me from the piano and the congregation singing heartily from behind their masks and carefully spaced two rows apart. 

Our friends arrived for the second service. One of them, who has a splendid voice, agreed to sing with me; the music improved exponentially with his contribution! 

The GR had not shown up by the time we had finished the first set of songs. 

Then it was Communion, the time when Christians commemorate the Lord Jesus Christ's death on the cross to take away the sins of the world. To take away my sins. 

At the end of that, it was time for another song. Still no GR. 

The message wrapped up, a powerful exhortation on the topic of unforgiveness. The text was from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 7, verses 36-50, and Pastor Walter talked in particular about the two debtors, one who owed a lot and one who owed a little. Who was more grateful when the creditor forgave their debts? “God has forgiven us us all of our sins - can't we forgive those who have done us wrong? " Pastor Walter mused. He then went to the gospel of Matthew chapter 18, verses 21-35, the famous" 70x7" passage. "Don't hold on to injuries you have received from other people," he urged us. "Release them, and you yourself will be free." 

At the end of the service I looked for the GR. Maybe he had come so late he sat in the lobby? 

No one had seen him. 

I was crushed. 

A few weeks ago after church I was talking to my friend Rick, who was on usher duty. The GR hadn't made it to church that Sunday either, and Rick remarked that it would be great if the GR and I could actually ride together for a change. 

I remembered the morning last year when the GR was talking to a guy who was trying very hard to get the job done around here, but who was very easily distracted. The three of us were sitting at the table having coffee. "I hate to say this in front of Karyn, but the cows come first, even over her," the GR told the guy, who glanced over at me with wide eyes. I just shrugged and smiled. What was there to say?! 

I repeated this incident to Rick, wryly smiling again. "I guess that means I come second!" 

Rick was shocked. "Karyn, I do not agree!" he replied. 

"Really?" I interjected, hopefully.

"Absolutely not," Rick went on. "He loves his horses more than he loves his cows!" He couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye. 

This Sunday morning I certainly felt third-rate. I called him as I was driving home. 

"I wanted to be there, but the last heifer calved. I had to pull it. Another big calf. But, apart from Oracene, we're officially done calving!"

Of course I was happy for that, but I was hurt and resentful that once again my priorities took second place. It's not logical, I know. You can't tell the hef to hold off for a couple of hours! Nevertheless, I pouted and muttered to myself the entire 44-km drive. 

And I had just listened to a sermon on the impact unforgiveness and bitterness has on a person! 

That afternoon the GR and his Calgary friend - a physician who the GR says should have been a cowboy - went for a ride, and got to see a mama moose with twin babies! (Of course, neither of them took pictures...)




His wife, one of my sisters and I planted pretty things in the Round-up Corral.  



After they left, the GR went to The Palace to do barn chores. I stayed to water the plants. When he was finished, he came back to help me. 

Suddenly the lightning flashed pink in the clouds and the rain started to flow, tears caressing  the hard face of the ground. 

In the house that evening, I was polite but distant. Even the dogs suffered from my seething: no Milk Time, Milk Time tonight! Certainly no individual bedtime story ritual. I took myself off for a long soak in the tub.

The next morning, like every morning, before he went to do chores we prayed together, and he thanked God for the rain - 4/10ths of an inch - and for getting us through calving season. 

He looked so tired. He said, "Stay in bed for a while longer. Get some rest."

I eventually got up and got ready for my revived regular Monday morning socially distanced coffee date. Gunpowder hopped into the truck with me. The rain was faint on the driveway. As I turned south on the 855, it grew a little stronger.

I saw him up ahead, next to his quad, talking to a neighbour in his truck. As I pulled over, the neighbour waved and drove on. "One of our cows and her calf got in with his herd. We'll get it out this afternoon. I just need to finish fixing the fence here. Have a good visit with Jean!" 

Why was he so kind when I wanted to be cantankerous?! 

As I continued driving, suddenly the sky opened and tipped a flash downpour of pounding rain combined with steely hail onto that part of the countryside. I felt the need to turn around, to make sure he was okay. 

He wasn't at the spot I had seen him minutes earlier. I continued north, me and my truck and my dog in the rain, George Jones singing to me about the sadness. 

And then I spotted him: steers had escaped from the field across the road from where he was fencing, and he had to drop everything and get them back in. 

Right then, George started singing this song:



And all my resentment left me, washed away by the song and the rain and the previous day's message that finally penetrated the crust of my hard heart. 

This faithful, hard-working, uncomplaining man. What would I do without him? 

That afternoon, we went together to bring in the rogue cow and calf. 

I took pictures until my phone died. 




Not 30 seconds later he called out, "There's your moose! And one of her babies!" 

Of course, no pictures... 

But something that will last longer, a picture of me with him, striving together toward the same goal, regardless of where we happen to be. 

Friday, May 28, 2021

Dutch Lullaby

 I heard a song quite some years ago, performed by Carly Simon and her sister Lucy. "Wynken, Blynken and Nod" is a simple, catchy ditty harkening back to a more innocent time where little people could sail off to the land of dreams in a wooden shoe.

On Tuesday night the Good Rancher was checking out cow-calf pairs on Kijiji (because when caring for cattle sunup to sundown is not enough, one can always browse the cattle for sale on Kijiji, the updated version of the Eatons and Sears wish books...). He came across this listing; his exclamation drew me over:



Oh my. It couldn't hurt, could it, just to find out why they were selling? 

"We are a dairy farm and it doesn't fit in our operation. The calves are walking every where and are trying to suck our dry cows..." 

Those poor babies. 

We looked at each other. 

A few more messages were exchanged. Then Wednesday morning: "See if we can pick them up this afternoon," the GR said.

 "We are away today, but are home tomorrow" 

Thursday morning, as he was about to leave for barn chores in the newly-crowned Palace, the GR glanced back at me and said, "See if they are still available and if we could get there after 1 pm."

As we drove down the road we spotted the snow caps of the Rockies on the horizon. It was a beautiful, clear day. "What should we call them?" I mused. "Wynken, Blynken and Nod keeps coming to my head." I played him the Doobie Brothers version and the Simon Sisters version, but he couldn't really make out the words or the tune with all the air rushing around us from the open windows... 

We arrived at the dairy farm shortly after 2 pm, and Elize and Theo were there in the yard to meet us. Right away they took us to see their daughters' 4H steers, which had been shown the previous day." This is what the calves will grow up to look like!"

Then they showed us their heifers, who were clearly loved because they came up to us for head scratches and pats. "Our girls spend a lot of time with them," Theo commented wryly. 

After that we got to see the baby pail bunters, who will be used for 4H next year; from there it was on to the milking barns. 

This family farm doesn't use the high-tech, hands-off approach. Theo and his hired hands milk for two hours starting at 5 a.m., and again at 4 p.m. Their cows are healthy and well treated. 

We came across one noble red cow in her own large pen. 

"Remember the one red heifer you saw in the middle of all the blues?" asked Elize. "She is our one and only replacement heifer for this old red cow of ours... She has been a fantastic cow, and will get to live out her days here. She's our friend."

We went one barn over and were greeted by a frisky little "blue" calf. I cannot be sure why, but some black and white or grey speckledy cattle are called blue. They are invariably beautiful. 

"Here's the mum. She's a little distressed this afternoon. She knows something's up," commented Theo, patting her gently. "And now, here are the triplets!" 


The first one we had met came trotting back into his mother's huge pen to see what was going on. The littlest one lay close to her mummy. The third had snuck into the neighbour's pen and was snoozing.

"The two bigger ones are the bull calves and the little one is the girl, most likely a freemartin as I mentioned to you while we were discussing them." He got his cow over to the side of the pen and knelt in front of her to take off her collar and to say goodbye. "She's one of our best cows..." His voice trailed off. 


I was heartbroken for this man. I turned to Elize, standing next to me. "Why doesn't he just sell the calves and keep the cow?" 

She looked back at me, pain in her face too, and slowly she explained. 

"This is the second set of triplets we have had in the whole time we have had our operation. They are very special to us. They are all healthy. She loves all three of them and they all love each other. How could we possibly separate them? If we kept them here, the boys would end up in a feed lot. The girl would be no good to us. The cow would have no one. We want them to be together for as long as possible."

Immediately my mind went to that Bible story of old, of wise King Solomon who had to adjudicate in the case of the two mothers, one of whose baby had died. You know the story. The two devastated women stood in front of him, each claiming that the live baby was hers. 

"Give me my sword," said Solomon. "We will cut this live baby in half and each of you will get half."

One immediately agreed to the pronouncement as being fair and equitable. The other, sobbing, asked the king to reconsider and please give the baby to her rival. 

The king had his answer. 

Theo and Elize, in their own way, were doing the same thing as that mother: for love of their cow and her happiness, they were willing to give her up.

My eyes filled with tears and Elize was blinking hard.

Theo went to the office and brought back a piece of paper, carefully protected in a clear plastic sleeve. "Here are her papers," he said. "You had better have them now."

And suddenly we were the owners of a purebred Holstein cow and her three Belgian blue babies! Wynken and Blynken would be the boys' names and Nod the sweet little girl's. 

We loaded them into the GR's stock trailer, mum in the first compartment and three protesting babies into the middle compartment. One last pause to hand Elize a box of doughnuts we had picked up for them from Bloke's Bakery in Stettler - after all, dairy farmers should have the joy of tasting a cream john, shouldn't they?! - and we were on the road home.

As the GR drove, I started talking about a name for the mum. My connection to Holland, home of the dairy farmers, is that my Aunt Mabel married Henk and cares for him and their two Canadian-Dutch children and grandchildren with every fibre of her being.

"I think her name is Mabel," I suggested to the GR.

"Oh man," he replied with a grin. Henk is one of his favourite people anywhere.

"I wish that Wynken, Blynken and Nod could be connected to Holland in some way too. Maybe I should find better names," I fretted. I googled the names to discover their origin and picked Wikipedia as my source for the answer:

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod is a popular poem for children written by American writer and poet Eugene Field and published on March 9, 1889. The original title was "Dutch Lullaby". The poem is a fantasy bed-time story about three children sailing and fishing among the stars from a boat which is a wooden shoe. The names suggest a sleepy child's blinking eyes and nodding head. The spelling of the names, and the "wooden shoe," suggest Dutch language and names, as hinted in the original title

"I guess your first instincts for their names were right!" the GR laughed. 

And look at the name of the person who created a statue in their honour! " I shrieked.


(Wynken, Blynken and Nod by Mabel Landrum Torrey, 1918, formerly a fountain in Washington Park, Denver)

He crinkled his eyes at me. "I guess she's Mabel then!"


When we got home we ran the babies out, and Mabel followed, a bit shell-shocked by the ride, no doubt. The GR got W,B&N into the Palace with their new royal playmates, and led Mabel over to where there was hay and fresh water.

Then it was supper time at the Palace. We wondered how our four newest residents would do. The GR got all the babies sorted into their normal dining rooms, and put the three newbies into a vacant one. First he sent up good old Horns, mother of Princess Anne and adoptive mother of Phil. I closed the gate behind her.

In the pen next to them stood the three babies, unsure of themselves and their new surroundings.


"Here comes Mabel!" And up walked this beautiful, stately mother, straight into the middle of her little tribe.

She indulged herself with just one mouthful of dairy ration; and when her babies had still not moved, gave them a sharp, one-word command. 

They hustled then! 

The three of them crowded to one side, but with a little hip checking she got Nod out of the way of her big brothers. 

Two particularly sweet moments occurred: the first was a brief exchange between Horns and Mabel, a sort of "You're not alone in this" look.



 The second was when Nod went over to her mummy's head after she had finished eating.


Mabel tucked her girl under her chin and they stood there, quietly, while the boys scampered around them. 


Later that night, before we went to bed, we went to check on the Palace. All the residents were getting along well together. Mabel, Horns and Goldie were nearby, lowing softly at their babies. W,B&N were together.


This morning, look who was waiting to greet Mabel for breakfast! 


In a few days, when everyone is homed in and fully comfortable, mothers and babies will all be taken out to enjoy fresh, green grass. 

And - just like Elize and Theo hoped - Mabel, along with her triplets Wynken, Blynken and Nod, will be together for as long as they possibly can. 




Welcome to your new home!