Saturday, August 20, 2016

Vacation



Sun and shadow shroud the cliffs of the Grand Canyon as a
   Condor soars on air currents high above the Colorado River.
The San Francisco peaks are on the horizon but you cannot
   hear clanging cable cars, 
      see the Golden Gate Bridge or
         feel the ghosts of Alcatraz in the same-named city.

Pacific waters ripple over my feet in British Columbia, Ventura,
   and remote Mexican beaches with pelicans.
Cold Atlantic waves chill me in Newfoundland, Fundy, Rhode Island, 
   and New York City by the Statue of Liberty.
I stand atop Sulphur Mountain, Mount Washington, and float in the fault that
   holds the Dead Sea.

We cross Canada by land and sea from Victoria to Cape Spear, 
   over mountains, through prairies and forests, 
      and hear a loon laugh, the moon mirrored on a quiet lake. 
I listen to music in concert halls, on streets, in the hum of markets
   in Boston, Vancouver, Jerusalem, Guadalajara,
      and at home.

I ride a camel, travel by air, ocean liner, train, bicycle, bus 
   and drive California State Route 1.
History beckons from castles, cathedrals, communities, 
   and the Alamo.
Our world is large, yet closer, smaller and more
   accessible in modern times.

I watch a bright yellow Goldfinch tentatively
   remove a seed from a dead flower in my garden and
      wash it down with a sip from the bird bath beside me.
The search for beauty, relationship, rest, holiness,
   amidst the clamour of life brings
      a holiday for my soul.


Monday, August 15, 2016

Butterflies and More

September 2008

I took this picture eight years ago near our house. From 2006 to 2009 we collected monarch caterpillars and looked after them as they went from chrysalis to butterfly. We have milkweed growing in a section of our garden and they used to attract Monarchs, but I have only seen one in our yard in the past two years. Here is a video I took in 2008 showing how the chrysalis is formed.


I search for butterflies as diligently as I look for birds when I am out and about. The pictures below show almost all the butterflies I have seen so far in 2016. We saw a couple of Monarchs flying across the highway when we were on Manitoulin Island in July, but none resting in the ditches and meadows. 

Giant Swallowtail Butterfly                                                                     Tiger Swallowtail Butterfly

This is the first time I have identified a Giant Swallowtail butterfly. We found it at Mud Lake in the city of Ottawa, Ontario this spring. Tiger Swallowtails have visited our garden a couple to times this summer. The one above was on a flowering shrub at Queenston Heights near Niagara Falls, Ontario in July.

           Cabbage Whites                                       Milbert's Tortoiseshell                                      Great Spangled Fritillary

I walked the length of the road at Manitoulin Island every day, taking two to three hours each time to look for birds and butterflies. The weather was hot and there were plenty of wildflowers in bloom. I counted only three species pictured above and saw each of them only once.

Underwing moth species                                                                            12 Spotted Skimmer

There is a slow moving creek that flows into Lake Manitou where we stay. Water lilies and Arrowhead plants grow in the shallow water and most years there are many bullfrogs and dragonflies. I never saw a single dragonfly there this year but finally found one at the edge of Lake Huron when we were waiting to take the ferry home. The Underwing moth was tattered and almost lifeless beside the road.

Black and White Warbler- Manitoulin Island

I observe nature but am not an expert by any stretch. It is obvious that the numbers of butterflies, dragonflies, bees and other pollinators are declining. There are likely many contributing factors, including climate change, habitat loss, insecticide use, to name a few. Many of our birds are insectivorous and are threatened when their food source is reduced. For instance, Barn Swallow numbers have declined 65% since the 1960s due to habitat loss and use of chemical insecticides. The Black and White Warbler above looked down at me one morning when I was birding on Manitoulin Island this summer. Warblers need insects too. 

As I wrote this post on our deck this evening, I was irritated by numerous mosquitoes. It has been a dry summer but our weekend rains brought a new hatch of the annoying insects. It seems that some insects have adapted to change better than others. 

Saturday, August 13, 2016

First World Problem: How Do We Help the Third World?


I watched her grow from a child to a young teenager over the past six years while visiting my family in Mexico. She lives with her parents and brothers in a small cement house on the five acre property. Her dad helps care for my elderly father and also maintains the grounds of the school, factory and houses. Her mom, Irma, who gave my mother loving personal care when she was ill, cleans the home and also works at my brother’s guava factory. Fatima's innocent charm, wide smile and helpful nature made me want to scoop her up and bring her home with me. But she is the apple of her father’s eye and her mother’s pride and joy. She is where she belongs.

With Irma and Fatima at my mother's funeral

Many people from first world countries visit poorer countries on short term mission trips or secular volunteer opportunities. The Mental Health Unit at our hospital has partnered with medical professionals in Guyana. Staff members use vacation time for teaching and training in an effort to set up better mental health services in that country. I know retired people who work with local people in third world countries in their area of expertise. Other volunteers and agencies respond and provide urgently needed aid after natural or man-made disasters. These are worthwhile, productive endeavours. 

There are critics of short term mission trips. Participants are eager to visit a poor area, bring gifts, build structures, evangelize, play with orphans and then go home in a week or two with plenty of pictures and a feeling of self-fulfillment. The focus is on how much the first world volunteers have to offer, not on the strengths and capabilities of the local people. The motives of the volunteers may be sincere but misguided. I have seen people leave Canada with suitcases filled with blankets, candies, school supplies and clothing to distribute to the “poor and needy”. But the definition of poverty is relative and care is needed to avoid conveying a sense of superiority because of our affluence. Gift-bearing volunteers may not understand the values of the community and can undermine the local economy. 

No "Shoebox" gifts required (photo by my brother, Mark)

We used to fill a couple of shoe boxes with recommended items each year at Christmas time for distribution to needy children. It appeared to be an unselfish thing to do in the spirit of the season. The boxes are collected, unpacked and checked by volunteers at a warehouse and then distributed around the world. The practice makes little sense socially or economically. The purchased items are usually inexpensive imported goods that may have been made by underpaid workers in another third world country. They are then sent by air to a community that may not share our values or holidays. Once again the local economy in the poorer country loses out as “free” items are given to “needy” children. The donors feel good, but the money could be put to better use.

People who are materially poor may be rich in relationships, community, meaningful work, and happiness.   
Conversely, the materially rich may be poor in relationships, meaningful purpose and contentment. 

Eugene Peterson recently tweeted, 

“Living in the land of the free has not made us free. We are a nation of addicts and complainers.” 

He spoke as an American but his statement is true in many developed nations. We may forget that strain in life builds strength of character, just as lifting weights develops physical strength. 

Visiting third world countries is a valuable learning experience. I remember visiting a home in a Mexican village in 2006 with my brother, who came to pay the man for work he had done. The adobe and tin house had a dirt floor and chickens walked in and out the door. A TV was on the table and an extension cord ran to an outside power source. The family received us with great hospitality and offered us a drink. I wanted to take a picture of the surroundings but knew it was not appropriate. The FIFA World Cup was in progress and Mexico was playing a game that day. While we were there, Mexico scored a goal and a great roar rose from the hills as everyone living on that mountain cheered. These people enjoyed community, had their basic needs met, and were content in their circumstances in spite of their relative poverty. 

Roadside Restaurant- Mexico (delicious gorditas!)

We need to share resources in collaboration with people who live in poorer nations. Education is essential and children often need uniforms, books and tuition to go to school. There are charities that work to address the root causes of poverty. People in third world countries have a voice, dignity, potential and ability to achieve their dreams. We cannot jump in and impose our values on them but need to listen and view their world from their perspective. It is important to do our research before giving to charities to make sure that the organization is using funds to empower the recipients, and not making them dependent on handouts. The same principles are important when dealing with poverty at home. 

Robert D. Lupton wrote an thought-provoking book, Toxic Charity: How Churches and Charities Hurt Those They Help (And How to Reverse It). He recommends an "Oath for Compassionate Service" with six guidelines: 
  1. Never do for the poor what they can do for themselves; 
  2. Limit one-way giving to emergencies; 
  3. Empower the poor through employment, lending, and investing, using grants sparingly to reinforce achievements; 
  4. Subordinate self-interest to the needs of those being served; 
  5. Listen closely to those you seek to help; 
  6. Above all, do no harm.
Other resources:
Poverty, Inc. - I highly recommend this documentary, available on Netflix and elsewhere
When Helping Hurts- a book with similar themes as Toxic Charity
Living on One - Two documentaries available on Netflix
Barbie Savior- Satirical look at the "white saviour" complex

Saturday, August 06, 2016

Pilgrimage

“Faith is not the clinging to a shrine but an endless pilgrimage of the heart.” 

Abraham Joshua Heschel


We took the cog railway to the summit of Mount Washington in New Hampshire a couple of years ago. Travelling up the steep incline, we passed the tree line, a huge boulder field and arrived at the top in an unwelcoming mixture of wind, driving rain, cold temperatures and fog. Our temporary discomfort and risk was nothing compared to that taken by adventurers who hiked the distance, frequently passing markers with names of people who had perished on the same journey in the past. They had a more intimate knowledge of the mountain and its moods and gained strength and wisdom during the challenging trek.

Hikers on Mount Washington NH

It is easy to give advice to others about where they should go and how to get there. It is harder to allow them to take their own pilgrimage, perhaps on an alternate path with different experiences, making mistakes and learning their own lessons. It is especially difficult to free our grown children to forge their own way in life.

This is a year of drought. Scattered thunderstorms form on humid afternoons but we have not had long, soaking rains for weeks. Newly planted trees need water but they also need to develop large tap roots that reach down to the water table. Some people heap large amounts of organic mulch around young trees and pour pails of water on the pile. The trees send roots upward to the mulched surface rather than downward to a sustaining water supply, a journey that will ensure longevity for the tree, even in dry years. 

Gros Morne Park, Newfoundland Canada

We come to a time when we need to walk away from our shrines and become a pilgrim. Shrines can feel safe with someone there telling you what to think or do, saying this is the best or only destination. We may receive shallow watering, rote answers to hard questions, and acceptance from the group who hangs out there with us. We tend to unfairly judge those who are in different places, but in time we will see cracks and weaknesses in our own shrines as well. Shrines come in many forms and may be religious, political, social, career based or even family oriented. 

Jesus called a group of disciples to join him in pilgrimage. They travelled with their teacher but never envisioned where the journey would ultimately lead them. He taught hard truths in parables leaving his followers with more questions than answers. He encouraged them to walk away from the rigid rules and expectations of religion to seek righteousness, truth, justice and reconciliation with God and man. 

Toll road along the Devil's Spine, Durango-Mazatlan Highway, Mexico

The chaplain at our hospital is a Kenyan lady, gracious, wise and from an evangelical Christian denomination. She supervises chaplaincy students from different faiths, including Islam, and works with a diverse group of patients. When I asked her how she reconciled her own beliefs with her work at the hospital where proselytization is discouraged she said,

“Everyone is on a spiritual journey. My job is to find out where they are and to walk beside them.”

We will cross paths with other pilgrims. We may share a table briefly or stay with them for a longer season, and we may journey alone at times. I remember how hard it was when I began to question and move away from the inflexible doctrines of the church I was raised in. In my journey I have had spiritual mentors from every walk of life. I have grown in strength in times of difficulty and in times of favour. I want to continue my travels in wide open spaces, not in walled rooms. 

Blessed are those whose strength is in you (Yahweh);
    who have set their hearts on a pilgrimage.
Passing through the valley of Weeping, 
they make it a place of springs.
    Yes, the autumn rain covers it with blessings.
They go from strength to strength.
    Everyone of them appears before God in Zion.
Psalm 84: 5-7 (World English Bible)

Ottawa River, Ontario Canada

Monday, August 01, 2016

Life Birds and More on Manitoulin Island

Baltimore Oriole (f), E. Bluebird (juv), Fritillary butterfly, Singing Swamp Sparrow

I enjoy birding on Manitoulin Island in the summer as much as my husband enjoys fishing. We have not been there since 2013 as we vacationed in other places the past two years. For eight years or so, we booked the cabin at the beginning of July. Many of the migratory birds were still very territorial as breeding season was beginning. The males were easy to see as they sang loudly from hydro wires, tree tops and open branches, marking their nesting area. This year we went to Lake Manitou the last week of July. I could hardly find any birds the first day or two. There were many young birds around who had fledged but who still needed help finding food. These young birds are very vulnerable to predators and generally stayed hidden in thickets and brush. The adult birds were very secretive too. 

American Bittern

One bird I have searched for unsuccessfully in every marsh is an American Bittern. They have likely seen me, but I have never seen them. This bird stands very still with its head in an upward position in the reeds. Imagine my surprise when I saw one in a MEADOW by a creek behind the cabin. There was not a cattail in sight. I had about 10 seconds to get a blurry shot on my camera before it flew away.

Lincoln's Sparrow or Juvenile Chipping Sparrows? (answer is JCS)

The camp is bounded by a lake, creek, meadows, farmland, dogwood thickets and woodland. The varied habitat attracts a great variety of birds. I counted 74 species this year that I could identify within a one square kilometer area. Juveniles are very confusing so there were some I could not name.

A small sparrow caught my attention more than once. It had a streaked breast but was not a Song Sparrow. It did not have the eye markings of a Savannah Sparrow, nor was it a Swamp Sparrow. It liked to peck along the gravel roadway. (We found a dead one that had been recently hit by a car). I was hoping it was a Lincoln's Sparrow, which does nest in the area, but it was likely a juvenile Chipping Sparrow. Sparrows can be confusing even if they are mature.


Approximately 12 Sandhill Cranes occupied the farm field across the road. They are as persistently noisy as a rooster and made a fuss if we looked at them. Here is a 15 second clip of their call. Unlike roosters, they were quiet until after sunrise.

The eBird app on my phone was very useful while birding and I submitted checklists twice a day. Every week of summer is different for birding. Black birds are already flocking in preparation for migration. I have seen one third of the birds that have been identified on the island so there are a lot more yet to find.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Citius, Altius, Fortius

William Blake- "Jerusalem"

We never had a television at home when I was growing up and I have no memories of the Olympics until the 1976 summer games in Montreal, Quebec. Two of my friends volunteered at the event and shared their first hand stories. After that, I looked forward to watching the games on TV every 4 years and then every 2 years starting in 1994. I prefer the Winter Olympics which have more cohesive coverage because they are smaller. Besides, who can resist at least one really excellent hockey tournament. Olympic hockey is so much better than NHL hockey in my opinion.

In recent years, the Olympic image has become increasingly tarnished by scandal, money and power. Judging of artistic merit in sports such as figure skating and gymnastics is flawed and political. The Olympic movement is controlled by corporate money with endorsements and sponsorships required for athletic training. Performance drug use has been rampant for years and we are learning the creative ways athletes, trainers and even countries have acted to prevent detection. There is no longer any distinction between amateur and professional athletes.

My all time favourite Olympic story is told in the 1981 movie, Chariots of Fire. Athletic games were a vehicle for developing character, leadership, loyalty, honesty, mutual responsibility and national spirit. Eric Liddell, played superbly by Ian Charleson, was the epitome of an Olympic athlete. In his struggle between two callings, Eric Liddell wrote,

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast! And when I run I feel his pleasure.” 

He trained hard but did not compromise his personal convictions. He was gracious and encouraging to his competitors. He wrote, 

“In the dust of defeat as well as the laurels of victory there is a glory to be found if one has done his best.” 

In the movie, the Olympic Committee tries to get Eric Liddell to change his mind about running on the Sabbath. One member comments, 

"The lad, as you call him, is a true man of principle and a true athlete. His speed is mere extension of his life and his force. We sought to sever his running from himself. 

Eric Liddell went on to win the 400 m race at the Paris Olympics in 1924 and set a world record which stood for 12 years. He then left Scotland and fulfilled his calling as a missionary to China. He died in a Japanese prison camp in 1945. 

The Olympic motto is Citius, Altius, Fortius, Latin for "Faster, Higher, Stronger". We may have reached the limits of human performance without artificial enhancement. But the Olympic Creed is timeless. 

"The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part, 
just as the most important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. 
The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well."

Photo: Manitoulin Island sunset July 2016

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

How My Best Teacher Gave Me My First Job

My school years involved many moves and I attended more schools than grade levels. My husband can name every grade school and home room teacher he had but I remember only a couple of names. No single teacher left a great impression on me personally. I believe a great teacher teaches more than a lesson plan. They instil a passion for learning and make themselves vulnerable by sharing learning experiences from their own life.

The head of the physiotherapy school I attended was a real "battle-axe". She acted like a drill sergeant and never cracked a smile. Half of our class dropped out before the last year, usually leaving in tears. She made a cake for us on the last day, just before we graduated. I distinctly remember her talking about using unsalted butter in the icing. It was such an uncharacteristic comment. We were in shock as she smiled and started to tell us about her life in England during the war. She spoke of a love lost and how she was returning to Britain to care for her ageing mother. My education was excellent but I wonder how much more I would have learned, without fear, if she had shown us her personal side earlier.

My best teacher and the person who recognized I was ready for my first "job" was my mother.

Mom went to university and teachers' college before she was married. She taught kindergarten in a poor Toronto neighbourhood for a couple of years after she was married and then she and Dad went to South Africa. Mom was a gifted teacher and even though she did not work at a paying job again, she taught at church and at home. She taught me to read before I went to school and encouraged academic excellence in all of us. She was confident and instilled confidence in each of us.


I was 5-1/2 years old when my second brother, Philip was born. My first brother, Nathan is 18 months younger than me and I don't remember life without him. He was my main playmate and confidante. I remember the excitement of having a baby in the house and I loved to look after him. I changed his diapers which were bulky flannel things with big pins. I carried him around on my hip before he could walk. (After he learned to walk, he refused to be carried and that is an analogy of his entire life)

Mom brought Mark home when I was 8 and Stephen arrived when I was 9. I was happy to look after them. When Stephen was 3 months old, our family was in a serious car accident and Mom was in and out of hospital for a few years. Dad was also badly injured. That is when I truly became the keeper of my little brothers and learned how to manage household chores.

In spite of Mom's injuries and surgeries, she cooked, canned, prepared food for the freezer, sewed our clothes, made curtains, and was active in the church, even when she was on crutches. When I was 11, she bought material and a pattern and I made my first dress. I learned to cook and do laundry around the same time. I was always encouraged, not criticized for my efforts which I am sure were substandard at times. My maternal grandmother rounded out my education, taking me on trips, introducing me to many good books and going places with her interesting friends. She was a retired doctor but volunteered at the local nursing home on Saturdays. I worked in the tuck shop with her, serving ice cream and learning to count change. 

This morning I watched the owner of this fishing camp and his teenaged daughter doing repair work in one of the cabins. She was using a drill and worked under his casual direction fixing some latches. After that job was done, she drove him in a golf cart, as a work partner, to their next project. As well as spending time with her dad, she is gaining confidence and learning valuable skills. 

Some of my friends and coworkers spend a lot of time driving their children to camps and various activities. They don't have time to cook proper meals and home is just a place to sleep. Children are eager to help and no task is too mundane, especially if it involves the time and attention of a parent or grandparent. We took music and sports instruction too, but our most important life lessons were learned in unstructured time with the family. 

Ginger wrote a poignant post about giving and the need throughout life to contribute to your group. We all need community, purpose, and a job whether we are 5-1/2 or 85 years. The lessons my mother taught me can be applied through a lifetime.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

A Cup of Peace


Tea is my favourite beverage. Period.
Why drink water when you can drink tea?
Black tea, white tea, green tea, chai, kombucha, tisanes. 
Made properly from quality leaves, not sweet, milk in my hot black tea please.
Several times a day, every day.

I started experimenting with coffee recently, grinding freshly roasted, bird-friendly beans and steeping them like tea in a French press. A little sugar and cream please...delicious!

Our daily indulgences, including tea, coffee, chocolate and sugar, can come at a great cost. Low wages, slavery, child labour, limited access to education, poor working and housing conditions, use of dangerous chemicals and ecological disruption are some major production issues. Pesticide traces in some teas exceed recommended limits which matters more for people like me who consume it frequently.

Fortunately, we can take small steps to improve the lives of people in countries that produce these products and also decrease our exposure to harmful chemicals. Awareness is the first step.

The Ethical Tea Partnership website states that they are creating a fairer, better, more sustainable tea industry -for tea workers, farmers, and the environment. Their current partners are listed here and include many of the popular tea brands. 

I have purchased Dilmah tea recently because of their commitment to ethical production practices. It is available in specialty shops in our city and online. I also order organic loose tea from Tealyra. It is hard to go back to teabags once you use full-bodied tea leaves. I truly do not understand why tea and coffee pods are so popular. Besides the expense and waste, the tea and coffee is low quality and heated plastic disrupts our hormonal balance. 

Join me at the dock, early in the morning for my next pot of really good tea.