Hot Summer Nights

We finally got the hot summer days we’ve been waiting for.  I remind myself of this as I lie in bed at night with my sheet kicked off and the fan on full blast.

But the discomfort of hot summer nights is worth it because of all the things we can do on hot summer days that we can’t do on cold winter days.  Right?

I remember the care-free summer days of childhood.  After the morning work of weeding the garden (I was responsible for a 20-foot row of beans when I was five), there was plenty of time for playing in “Pine Needle Palace” where mud pies were served on rhubarb leaves and “Cops and Robbers” in the woods with walkie-talkies.  In the evenings there were trips to the lake or the creek to wash away the dust and sweat of the day.

I try to help my children have happy summer days like I did.  The younger ones I can hardly keep inside the house, but the suggestion to “go outside and play” is usually met with moans and groans from the older ones.

What happened?  When did “go outside and play” become a punishment instead of a treat?  Is it age?  Or apathy?

If all we want to do is watch Netflix and play on our iPads, we might as well have winter all year long.  So I’ll send my kids out and you send yours out and maybe they’ll find each other and learn what summer’s all about.

People Are Priceless

There were several things I considered writing about this week.  End of the school year, etc.  But it’s hard to focus on normal activities when so much is going on south of us.

Television and social media has been bombarded with pictures and news stories of the flooding and destruction in southern Alberta.  While some of the stories have been negative (looting, price gouging, etc.), the majority have been positive:  people helping people, donations pouring in, emergency responders working round the clock to ensure public safety.

When disaster strikes, I think it’s interesting to note our first reactions:  Where’s my family?  Is my family safe?  What about my friends?  Who can I help?

We’re willing to leave everything, grab our loved ones, and get out.  We’re willing to open our homes to family, friends, and even strangers.  We’re willing to donate food, clothing, blankets, toiletries, toys, money, and time to help those in need.

Why?  Because deep down, we know our families and friends – and all people – are the most important things in this world.

Money and possessions are nice and even necessary, but when we lose belongings it’s the photographs, family mementos, and heirlooms – the reminders of times with those we love – that we feel most sick about.

Homes and vehicles and electronic gadgets can be swept away in a moment.  But relationships last forever.  That’s why we feel the urge to help, give, serve, praise, work, lift, and pull together in times of need.  Because we know people are priceless.

I wish we acted that way all the time.

Ringing Bells

One evening a few months ago, I went to the library.  When it was time to check out, no one was at the front desk.  Instead, there was a bell and a sign that said “Ring Bell For Service”.

I stood there and looked at that little bell.  Then I looked around to see if anyone noticed me.  If they did, they didn’t let on.

So I took a deep breath and rang the bell.  Someone immediately appeared and happily served me.

For some reason, I’ve never liked ringing bells like that.  I’d rather catch someone’s eye and smile to let them know I’m ready, or touch them on the arm and say, “Can you help me, please?”

As I left the library, I thought about why I react the way I do to ringing bells for service.  I was reminded of a book I read years ago called The Color Code by Taylor Hartman.

The premise of the book is that all people have a dominant “colour” or personality type.  In a nutshell, “Reds” need power and respect, “Blues” need relationships and appreciation, “Whites” need peace and kindness, and “Yellows” need fun and attention.

I’m a blue-red.  My husband is a blue-white.  The book helped me understand myself, family, friends, and co-workers better.  I found it interesting to see how other colour combinations interact.

It turns out I didn’t want to ring the bell because it might interrupt or annoy someone – in other words, hurt a relationship.  I was being a true Blue.

What’s your colour?

Laughable Lunches

About this time of year I get tired of making school lunches.  I don’t always make my kids’ lunches myself, but I’m still responsible to have food on hand for them to put together.

Finding lunch options that are healthy, quick, and affordable is an ongoing challenge.  Unfortunately, the food industry doesn’t make it easier for me.

Some choices are obviously bad, like pop, chips, and hotdogs.  But sometimes we think we’re making healthy choices when we’re not.  For example, a regular sandwich is probably made with genetically modified wheat bread, peanut butter (hydrogenated oil and icing sugar), and jam (lots of sugar).  If we choose lunch meat instead there’s usually nitrates and other words I can’t pronounce in those.

“Fruit” snacks have corn syrup and artificial flavours, “juice” boxes are often not juice but “cocktail” or “punch” with added sugar, granola bars are stuck together with oil and corn syrup, yogurt (the tasty, fruity variety) is full of sweeteners, and cheese strings are laden with fat and sodium.

There are healthier options out there, but you really have to search, read labels, or make it yourself.  It’s depressing.  Especially when we learn that “natural flavours” could mean MSG, ground bugs, or other nasty things.

These days, the term “healthy lunch” is laughable.  Only I’m not laughing.  I’m remembering my own school days:  “What’s that smell?  Oh, it’s just Kathryn’s lunch again – sardines on homemade whole wheat.”

I was hoping to spare my kids that, but I’m running out of options.

Bless Your Heart

Two weeks ago I got another one of those phone calls.  My dad had suffered a heart attack and was taken by ambulance to Foothills Hospital.

It turned out to be severe; one of his arteries was 100 percent blocked.  He underwent angioplasty and recovered for a week in hospital.  Now he’s home, adjusting to his new lifestyle and medications.

Considering the circumstances surrounding the attack (ie. that he was visiting my sister in Calgary just minutes from one of the best medical facilities in Alberta instead of driving through the mountains of BC, alone, as he was just two days before) I believe our family experienced a miracle.  Even the doctors said the only reason he’s still with us is because God didn’t want him yet.

Surprisingly, my dad had just undergone a thorough physical.  His cholesterol and blood pressure were good.  He doesn’t smoke.  He was a 70-year-old who acted like a 40-year-old.  How could he not have any warning he had Coronary Artery Disease?

Well, it turns out he did have some warnings.  But since he’d been given a clean bill of health, he chalked it up to indigestion or fatigue.  And since his brother died at age 70 from a stroke, he had studied up on the symptoms for stroke, not heart attack.

I heartily believe in miracles, but I also believe in being educated.  If you have any of the following symptoms:  chest pain or discomfort (pressure, squeezing, fullness), pain or discomfort in the arms, neck, jaw, back, or stomach, shortness of breath, cold sweats, nausea, or lightheadedness – call 911 immediately.