Tag Archives: remembering

60

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I foolishly used the premium photo last year. In any case, today marks a milestone for my father: he is 60 years young! Happy Birthday Daddy!

Last year, I shared some stories; this year, I will share some pictures. I’ll also add that I am blessed to be the daughter of such a wonderful, loving father. Love you.

First time Dad…

Second time Dad…

Dad visiting me in Fiji

Dad really likes his CocaCola… he’ll even dress up like a bandit to get it.
There are no words to describe how much I love this photo. Its actually from Dad in Mali with CRWRC.

Dad in Kenya with CRWRC – hanging out with the men.

Dad and his girls in Kenya. 🙂

Advent #2

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On December 6, 1989 fourteen students left their homes, going about their daily lives. Little did these young women know their dream would be ended by a blast of gunfire. On that day, violence robbed their families, friends, and society of their light and hope in this world.

Twenty years later we are still striving for the elimination of violence in our society. That is why it is important for us to gather as a community to remember those who have fallen and light candles for the hope of the elimination of violence in our country and our world. Often we are too overwhelmed to hope for peace, but we must start with ourselves – “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.” We need to convert our sadness into action.
(liturgy from Women’s Inter-Church Council of Canada)

We had a moving service this morning at church, commemorating the twentieth anniversary of those events and looking forward to a future of Peace. The Most Rev. Andrew Hutchinson shared recollections of being in Montreal on that date and offered challenges for the future. Fourteen candles were lit and fourteen names were read along with some remembrances of the tens of thousands of unnamed women who are mistreated, abused, and exploited annually.

June 6, 1944

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Today marks the 65th anniversary of the campaign known as D-Day. Ceremonies are going on in many places today to commemorate these events.

I’ve posted some reflections on D-Day and the Normandy beaches before (here and here) but I would like to take some time to pause and remember once again on this important anniversary.


Arromanches Beach was first taken by the British and then used as a supply base. Some of the floats used to create a breakwater around the beach can still be seen.
Juno Beach, where the Canadian Army landed. On the 50th anniversary of D-Day, some good friends from Ontario (my “adopted” grandparents) came back with a group of veterans to visit this beach. They brought me home a rock. Cheesy as it sounds, when I visited Juno beach in 2006, the 62nd anniversary and 12 years after my friends did, I picked up another. Its hard to imagine scores of boats and tanks once lined the beach here. Perhaps some are still visible, but the tide was up. All that remains are a few battered bunkers that presumably the German army returned fire from.
The Canadian cemetery in Courselliers-Sur-Mer, Normandy. It is in the middle of farmer’s fields and can see the ocean. Its not too big, but big enough considering what it contains. It is always moving to visit war cemeteries overseas and see the love and care that locals give to maintaining them.

A Year Ago…

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… this week, Leg 6 of Offshore was drawing to a close, we were in the midst of our work days, and Katie was about to get engaged to Matt.

I know I’ve already written a fair bit on my thoughts about community, but I can’t help returning to that subject over and over especially as we near the one year anniversary of the end of Offshore. It is my opinion that what we, as humans, crave more than anything is meaningful relationships with other people. (If storms like this don’t bring you closer, I don’t know what does!) I am incredibly thankful that I had the opportunity to be a part of the community that is on Pacific Grace for two whole years.

Offshore Reunion

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Last night was the S.A.L.T.S. AGM. The last half (two-thirds?) was devoted to a multimedia presentation of Offshore put together by Skipper, complete with with photos and video highlights of the trip. People started arriving 15 minutes or so before the doors opened and it was like a huge reunion of trainees and crew: I hadn’t seen lots of them since we arrived home in  June of last year. Strange really, I spent every moment of every day for months with some of these people and now I haven’t seen them in months. Needless to say there were hugs flying all over the place. I felt a bit disjointed as there were so many people I wanted to see – I kept turning and seeing someone else to grab. I’m not usually like that. I usually stand on the edge of the room and have a select few conversations while people-watching. It was really exhausting.

The presentation, however, was fantastic. The video footage was all new to me: most of it I hadn’t seen since we actually lived through it. Some of the most moving footage to see was of our time with various islanders in remote locations. There was quite a bit of our friends on Hiva Oa, including their singing of the Marquesan National Hymn. Then there was some of the Palmerstan Islanders, including our dancing and that of the ever-graceful boys. The video of the whales we swam with in PNG was also moving. It was so graceful to see a dozen or so whales gliding through the water and some of us diving down to see them and them surfacing to see us. Wow. At one point during the whales, I caught the eye of another crew member and we mouthed “SHARK” at each other because that is pretty much how it went down. Skipper left that out of the presentation.

The whole thing brought tears to my eyes. Such good memories, amazing people and places and community on the boat. Someone said to me afterwards that they felt they had lived it with us. “Hmmm, not quite,” I thought to myself. The show missed some key things below decks. Sure, you see the crazy motion from on deck when waves come crashing over the side, but what about when those waves lift up the closed skylights to dump water on the table in the middle of a card game. Or when the waves lift the skirt around the bottom of the mast and pour waterfalls down onto freshly baked muffins you were planning on serving for breakfast in 15 minutes. And what about when the swell is so huge that your galley assistant for the day drops the 100 oz can of chickpeas all over the floor as she slides all the way across the galley and slams into you. And the heat, nothing in the photos gives any indication of how bloody hot it was on deck and how much hotter it was in the galley. Oh the good times, that is what memories are made of.

Pageants

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We finally got our Christmas Pageant done this morning, after two unsuccessful attempts.  Good thing that the snow they were predicting last night never materialized or else I’m not sure what we would have done.  The kids were adorable as always and the costumes were fantastic.  Some one had made little animal costumes for all the young ones and they really were quite well done. Made me wish we’d had costumes like that when I was in Christmas pageants.  
I remember one year at St. Thomas’ where we told the story from the point of view of the animals in the Christmas story – four main parts by four different animals: a camel, a sheep, a donkey, and I can’t remember the last (perhaps horse or cow as stable representative?). I was the donkey. Please, no asinine comments…  I believe the most believable part of my costume was a fuzzy donkey hat we borrowed from somewhere.  Otherwise it was grey leggings under my grandfathers grey cardigan with a fuzzy tail pinned to the back.  I think I was 10 or 11 at the time.  
I suppose that is what happens when your mother helps to stage the pageant every year: you end up as the lead, or at least co-lead.  I clearly remember going over to the house of another poor Sunday Schooler who’s mother was also involved quite heavily in the pageant.  The two of us would have to read our lines back and forth to each other, speaking into wooden spoons to practice our microphone technique, until we knew them down pat. 
The other bit of preparation I had to undergo involved improving diction and projection.  We lived in a huge old house with two sets of staircases: one at the front and one at the back.  The back stairs had the worst echo (although it was fun to hum as you walked down them).  I used to have to stand at the top of the back stairs with mum standing at the bottom of the front ones and holler my lines until I said them s-l-o-w  e-n-o-u-g-h and e-nun-ci-ated well en-ough that they could be understood at the other end of the house.  
It would be fun to see footage of the many pageants I was in to see if they were actually any good.  (Although if someone reading this actually does have footage, I’m just kidding.  Please burn it.)
At any rate, the kids this morning were adorable and it was quite enjoyable to watch and remember the Christmas story, even three weeks late.  On reflection, it is never to late to remember the message of Christmas.