healing – As Far As The Eye Can See

Threads

This blog was begun a few weeks ago when the weather was outrageously cold.

I have been enjoying pondering a challenge I set for myself this past week. I had three things I found myself wanting to talk about on the blog, none of them taking up a lot of words but all just on my mind. The challenge I pondered was “is there anything that connects these three things?” Can I talk about all three in the midst of one blog and have it all make sense? I am going to try.

The first thing I want to share is one of the gifts that Jill gave me this Christmas. Jill seems to really enjoy the shopping process and she is thoughtful about what she knows about people. She knows that I love sunflowers. In her looking around she found an Etsy artist who makes baskets of sunflowers using a crochet pattern. She purchased it for me. I love everything about this gift.

It is cute. It is pretty. It is so well done and it reflects what Jill knows about her Mama. The reason I love sunflowers is that I feel like we have a connection. They are tall growing plants. In one of my earliest years here in the south I was driving past a field of sunflowers and I noticed that occasionally one pops up high about the others. When I saw this I laughed out loud. That looked like so many pictures of me among my peers…..a line of people, and then there’s Kathy, head and shoulders taller than others. I love sunflowers because I relate to them I think. Jill intended for me to hang this from the mirror in my car but I feel like I will appreciate it more in the house. So that is where it is.

Another thing I wanted to tell readers about is that Russ and I got a new duvet set for Christmas. It was in my Amazon cart for several months. We have lots of blankets so I felt a little decadent wanting it but we have recently started using a down quilt inside a duvet (a quilt bag) for bedding, we needed a second duvet cover. Russ and I love color, that was the main thing that drew me to this set, its why I put it in my cart and finally ordered it. I wrapped it up and it went under the tree, the tag said, “To Kathy and Russ, Love from Bingo.” Bingo is the dog that will protect Russ from all threats, seen and unseen. What I forgot when I ordered it was that the set also contained a bottom sheet. I ordered extra pillow cases. The end result is the least restful bedroom scene you might ever see. It is an almost nauseating amount of color, but honestly, we just love it.

What we learned after it was washed and put on the bed is that this is the softest bedding I have ever had. It is astonishing how comforting this comforter is. What I really wanted to say when I started out on this little story is a word of warning to anyone who might be thinking about purchasing a duvet or quilt pattern such as this. Be prepared to lose the remote control, your phone or your eyeglasses, multiple times a day. Everything blends into the craziness of it and it does induce a small panic, especially when your glasses are lost and therefore you can’t see anything and because of the pattern you can’t see anything! Russ and I are mighty grateful to Bingo for her generosity and we are thankful for the comfort and warmth we have had from that gift, especially in the last week.

It is now February 9th and I am trying to make progress on this.

The third thing that I was pondering heavily as this blog got started was the fact that we had a barn cat living in our basement bathroom. It had been discovered injured when the weather was so very threatening, it had no movement in its lower half. Our best guess is that it was stepped on by a calf that could have weighed as much as 700 pounds. Besides apparent paralysis it was weak and had a frostbitten ear when the decision was made to bring it in for warmth, assessment, and food. That decision was made on the condition that I was heard, and I was, I wanted it known that I was not having anything to do with that cat.

That was a few weeks ago now. The reason I limited my involvement right from the start was, I think, that I couldn’t handle the suffering, pitifulness and hopelessness of the situation. There was something in me that was so very weary and still not healed after the fires, weather challenges, deaths, chaos and injuries that shaped 2020 and the couple years afterwards. I didn’t think I had it in me.

That is not how it all ended up unfolding. I began to check on the cat when asked to, I took it food once or twice in the early days, it wasn’t that hard or emotionally taxing and the practical side of me kicked in. I did the laundry created by the situation, thats my strength in all times of chaos. The thinking in those days arose from what Russ was told by a vet he knew when he was younger, that vet said, “if a cats bones are all in the same room, they will knit back together.” We were subscribing to the mystery and resilience captured in Phil’s phrase and giving that cat six weeks to show it was healing. About four days in I was listening to a podcast while doing laundry, the speaker presented evidence on the power of touch. Its a big deal. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand that this cat was isolated in a room with no windows and getting only basic care. Morgan and Russ were watching TV and I went upstairs and said to them, “guys, if I brought the cat up, would one of you pet it?” Russ jumped to the opportunity. I brought the cat up with his waterproof bed pad, settled him in with the guys and went back to what I was working on. This set the pattern for all the days since. The cat never returned to the basement bathroom but took residence in the upstairs guest bathroom. This is not the first time we harbored an ailing animal in there. We hosted an injured rabbit in that bathroom a few years ago. Russell imagined that rabbit was likely the spouse to “Jack” rabbit, and so he called it “Diane.” If you know the John Cougar Mellencamp song “Jack and Diane,” you know Russell’s starting point for the naming. We got a bit weird. After Diane passed we started to call that bathroom the “Diane Mellencamp Memorial Bathroom.” And it got zanier yet, I made a door plaque on Shutterfly that made the name official, it hangs there, a nod to our tender days with Diane, Jack rabbits spouse. Anyways…. anytime the guys were watching TV they would include Rumble. Soon physiotherapy began, Russ was working at keeping joints moving and stimulating nerve activity. Jill was home recently and joined in the work.

For my part I took over most of the food delivery, and also stimulation. I set up stations in front of three different windows where the cat could sit and observe the outdoors. Rumble got stronger and the physiotherapists in the family were certain they were seeing some improvement. Then, earlier this week, Rumble stopped eating and drinking. Thursday he had some seizures and by later in the afternoon he passed away, Russ was there. It was very sad but it was also a relief, all the unknowns that had hung in the air for a few weeks were now knowns.

Our experience has left us with things to ponder.

We all were relieved and touched by the fact that despite all the mean noise and action that the dogs direct at each other and Buster, our resident house cat, not a single animal in our house ever made a threatening noise or action towards the cat. Its like they could see he was vulnerable, he was sniffed at times, he was curiously looked at, but there never seemed to be jealousy or resentment for the attention or more luscious food he was getting. Their “maturity” and insight really amazed me and touched me.

Rumble and Coffee dog, peacefully co-existing.

We never really experienced the cat being happy. It took to Russell quickly and would occasionally purr with him, but around me he never gave a warm fuzzy. I found myself wondering if he recognized Russ from all the time he spends in the barn, maybe he already had a trust in him.

I put myself in that cats shoes. He had quite a story. He began his life as a growing cat amongst many at our friends’ place. A couple years ago, on a day when they were coming over with a trailer of horses he got in the trailer at some point before they headed over. Russell witnessed him launching out of that trailer at 70 mph when the door was opened. He was quite wild and could not be caught for a return trip so we kept him. A couple weeks later, when Gina was home, the cat was at the house looking for food and upsetting Buster. Gina lured him to herself with bacon, brought him in and petted him, and then showed him the barn and the location of the cat food dish. That day she named him “Rumble.” Besides those minutes of contact Rumble had lived his whole life looking out for himself, always alert in order to protect his survival. He would have worked to stay far from coyotes and other threatening forces in the wild while doing his mouse hunting. Then came his encounter with a calf, in -40 weather. With the paralysis of his back legs he was absolutely vulnerable. Once he was brought into the house he was thrust into a world he had almost no knowledge of, he didn’t know if he was safe. When left to drag himself around, for a little exercise and experience of autonomy he would quite quickly drag himself back to his bathroom, it was his safe zone. I couldn’t be upset that he never gave me the message that I was one of his safe people. He didn’t have it in him, yet.

I am an analytical person, in our days with Rumble cat I see many parallels to human experience and especially to what it means to have the love of God shaping our days. When that cat moved into our house we had the chance to give it safety and love, we had the chance to transform its experience of the world. Although it was suffering it had compassion and love. This speaks very clearly to me of how I have known God in my life. I am so very blessed to know a life shaped more by love and compassion than by the “survival of the fittest” reality. I believe it is the power of God that has carved out every space and moment where love and compassion rule the day. It means alot to me that despite the initial hesitation I had in being involved in this cat’s days, we had the chance to use our energy to comfort and bring the reality of love to it. It reinforces my sense of self as one of God’s people when I remember how I ended up being a comforter.

When I look at this picture I see fear in Rumble’s eyes but also a sense of his courage.

One of Rumble’s perches when he needed to remember who he is.

Hanging near me as I did some messaging.

While I worked on getting some mail ready, Buster, Rumble and Russ did some TV and cuddle time.

I began this blog with a personal challenge to myself to tie the sunflower, quilt bag gift and cat stories together. The things that unfolded with Rumble made a common thread pretty clear to me.

Being spiritually and physically comforted in the cold of night, (both literal and symbolic) is so important.

God has knit us together to be comforters.

We help weave God’s story and carve space for love and compassion when we find our way clear to be those who extend comfort to others.

May it be so.

The Color Orange

Yesterday was a big day for many reasons. Our family observed Truth and Reconciliation Day in a way that was pretty special for us. It was also month end which meant farm business, music festival board business for me and a time to tally the stats for the Broken Bread Bakery. I have a series of captioned pictures to tell the tale.

Jill found this butterfly on the highway during the walk we took part in yesterday. It seems a good way to start this blog off. To me butterflies can symbolize transformation and they are so beautiful.

The last report from the Broken Bread Bakery was at the end of July since then I have pretty much met my goal of baking and sharing one batch of buns per week, on average.

This was a terrific day of baking, two batches in one afternoon happened when my neighbor Sheila came over. Baking bees like this will continue until I have seen to the baking of one bun for every child who died at residential school, some treated as entirely forgettable. This is a long term project. In August and September I was able to bake and share 362 buns. I had a couple of huge orders, 12 dozen for a trailride and six dozen to one individual. The flurry of baking for those allowed some weeks off from baking at other times.

The joy of working together at the counter was literally enriched by the generosity of folks who received the buns. The donations given for the healing fund in July and August totaled $375. This figure is lower than it might be because I donated 4.5 dozen buns to a bake sale. I counted those towards the remembering of children because honestly, with thousands of buns to make I need to stay focused on this unfolding memorial instead of for example baking cookies for the bake sale. I was mindful of those children as I baked. I tagged the buns as being from the Broken Bread Bakery and I said a little bit about the project. The entire project total so far is 644 buns baked and $1,020 raised for the Healing Fund of the United Church of Canada.

While in St. John’s we took in an afternoon at an amazing museum. There was a good display about residential schools within the museum. The thing that has struck me lately is how this school system impacted the parents and the grandparents. Children removed from ones life and all the everyday joys gone, in moments. It got me thinking about how much I loved bedtime routine with our kids with the book reading we shared. It was routine, the books well worn, one might say it was boring really and it was time consuming. But it was special and warm and good and essential. How would we have coped if all our routines had been taken from us?

It bothered me to read that a ship that shares my last name was used to transport children away to school.

I have this picture of a notebook Jill was creating in the summer, preparing for back to school. I looked at it and I said, “Jilly, even nature proclaims that every child matters.” I found the Liz Griffin pictures that she used, and a couple different ones, they are here with my interpretation of the parent child dynamic at play. The brown surroundings reflect the time of year, it was just before the spring burst of color. The cows look rough. They had just weathered winter and been thru the birthing time and they definitely needed a bit of time to reemerge in their beauty.

“I am your Mama and I need to wash your face.”

“We are together and so the world is at peace.”

“I WILL protect you. I will not let them near you.”

“Your aunties and I, we got you, stay near.” (This was a pen with three Moms who had birthed twins and were each successfully raising both calves.)

“My sense of smell is going to keep you well, just don’t you worry.”

All of the things percolating in us that you read above made it important for us to be a part of the walk that was hosted by Alameda United Church yesterday. A walk for truth and reconciliation. It was about a 4 mile journey up and down highway 9. Maybe people say, “why is that important, why are you slowing down traffic?” Maybe because nothing changes until it is seen for what it is. Maybe its okay to have to slow down and think, for us walkers and for the drivers too. Maybe that creates openings for the Spirit to be at work. Having said that I am tired and a bit overwhelmed by everything in the world. I was thinking about it later….the repetition of shaping buns and putting one step in front of the other is what I am capable of right now. I don’t have space in my head for deep learning. I will trust that God will take my steps and my buns and work with them.

It was awesome to have support from some folks driving by, like this flag bearing truck. The best were the semi truck drivers that blew their airhorns. We walked with friends on a beautiful fall day and perhaps made more concrete for ourselves who we want to be as individuals and as a family.

My friend ordered this flag and Russ and I took a turn walking with it for a while. That created a good chance for a picture but carrying my friends survivor sign for a while to give her a break, and bearing this flag both felt like sacred responsibilities.

The color orange is being transformed in our culture. In my world it was once the color I associated with halloween. Then as I got to know some bikers it became the color of Harley Davidson, then as we built our house it became a color of energy and we chose it for our kitchen. Now it is a color that speaks of honoring. Honoring and not silencing. Honoring and not shaming. Honoring through listening. Honoring difference and uniqueness. Honoring another even if it costs me a bit. It means living out what we say when we say that every child matters. It was the color of halloween, and I see maybe like a butterfly, the color orange is being transformed, can it become a color that when seen quickens the heart, sending out a signal that ingredients for hope and healing are not far away. May it be so.

A Bakery is Born

Most of the people that read this blog are also facebook friends and will have seen some of this info in recent facebook posts. Not everyone is with me on facebook though and there is more to the story than I can say on facebook without being overwhelming. So the bakery story is coming to the blog.

The bottomline: I started a bakery this week. Its very simple, very limited, very manageable, but very powerful in my heart.

When the discovery of bodies at Canadian Residential School sites began I pondered how I could respond in a meaningful way. What I came to is that I wanted to bake a bun for every child whose remains were found. At first that was 215, a full day of baking for sure. Numbers rose and the plan had to change. Now I am having scheduled baking sessions, joined by people that want to help, want to share stories with me, or just talk over thoughts and feelings about these horrifying discoveries. I am then delivering buns to local people who have pre-ordered via facebook and they are giving me a donation in exchange for the buns, a donation being forwarded to something called “The Healing Fund.” This fund was established by the United Church of Canada in 1994 in an effort to begin making things right. The monies raised support the plans of indigenous people to do what will bring healing to individuals and communities. The response in my local area has been great.

The name of my bakery is “Broken Bread Bakery”, it just came to me one morning. I was thinking about Bible stories where Jesus gathered with others at tables as equals and meals were shared. Then at the point where Jesus’ death was being plotted he told his followers to continue to break bread together and in doing that remember him. The Sacrament of Communion was begun. In my first thoughts on this, through the lens of those discoveries of human remains, I was really aware that Jesus called us to break bread and not bodies. When I talked to the family about this it was noted that although it is true that we are dealing with bodies the ongoing issue is the legacy of the attempts made to break spirits. I think that the way Jesus treated all as equally worthy of God’s love, his example of humility and the respect he showed for the uniqueness of others was in those moments something that made peoples spirits more whole. The residential school agenda was not that. I am quite a fan of how Jesus used bread to invite us, by his example, to do better and to be better. So…… “Broken Bread Bakery” was born. Maybe the brokenness within me and others who connect with this project in any way can be touched. Maybe, by God’s grace, we can all find ourselves a little more whole as bread shared draws us together.

I have had opportunities come from this already. To be with people who I don’t know that well, bake, form buns, be at home in my own space but treading new space in relationship and learning is good for me. I like the familiarity of my own home at this point in my journey. A very cool set of moments happened yesterday. I was joined by someone who attended residential school, her Mom did and her grandmother. She had much I needed to hear. We got a batch of buns started, the water, yeast, sugar, oil and part of the flour blended, then stories began to emerge and it was best to just turn off the mixer, sit and listen. What was in the mixer bowl did its thing, it rose and rose while the stories emerged. Finally as the ingredients started to creep out over the top of the bowl we returned to our work, got salt and the rest of the flour added, and got it mixing, we talked through the noise of that and then got to forming the buns. My guest was a beginner at making buns, so for the 2nd time this week I got to teach someone how to make buns. The very cool thing about yesterday is that my friend brought the ingredients to make bannock. Once we got the buns rising she taught me how to make bannock. I loved the give and take of this and it was truly a treat to sit in my own kitchen and observe someone else at work. We got some oil hot and she cooked up that beautiful and delicious bannock. I was excited to call the kids up for a snack that I knew was pretty darn special. They loved it.

Buns rising and bannock being prepared and also enjoyed all in the same picture. That’s a good moment!

I can count on one hand the number of times we have deep fried at our house. That made this moment extra tasty and exciting.

While the kids settled in Russell happened to come in, we got to have a family snack with our new friend. I had cause to run into town not long after the buns came out of the oven and was able to make a couple of deliveries of warm, fresh buns where again, generous donations were given in reply. Also, yesterday I was given 2 20 lb bags of flour. I am set for buns for a while!

So there is a little bit more of the story of the bakery that was born in my kitchen this week!