Today I will go to see my son play football for the first time!
Way back in April, hubby was telling me how much our boy wanted to play football this year. I had my doubts … doubts that our son was the one who wanted to play football. You see hubby loves football! He played in high school. When we met, and were first married, he coached high school football for about seven years. And, he loved it, and he was good!
But, our son … although he physically looks like a clone of hubby, and his mannerisms endorse that cloning possibility, his interests tend to be different from his dads. And, I was really not feeling confident that it was our son who was understanding of the level of commitment and physical exertion that would be required to play on a football team.
I was pretty sure that dad was hoping to live vicariously through son.
But, I was so wrong!

Although he is not yet twelve, and one of the youngest players on his team. He has been practicing three hours a week, since later June. And now that the game season has begun, practice hours are at four and a half, plus games. And he cannot wait to get to a single practice! And he watches the clock, so that he can be ready to go. And he comes home, totally exhausted, saying it was great (even when he gets knocked onto his behind regularly). And he loves his coach. And he loves playing with the guys.
And … he loves that it is just he and his dad :), because his dad, is also one of the coaches on the team.
His dad, more than genetic material, and disciplinarian, and caregiver … is his greatest hero. It is his dad whose opinion matters most to him, It is his dad whose every word, every step he watches, and tries to emulate. Even though their personalities are so different, he knows that it is in his dads heart and life, that he can see his own future.
In the past couple of years, as adolescence has been rearing it’s head, I have been silently mourning the loss of MY little boy. But, this summer, as I see the bond of father and son developing more strongly, more tightly, I am mourning less and celebrating more.
I can love my son tenderly and I can be the first to receive hugs from him (and wonderful bear hugs they are), but I cannot give to him the one thing he needs most … a model of what it is to be a man, and a model of what it is to be a man after God’s heart. It is in the model of who my hubby is, and wants to be, that our son can see hope for his own future, as he grows into manhood.
I am so thankful for the dad my son (and daughters) has. I know he will have the courage and wisdom to coach our son from the experiences (positive and negative) that he has had so far. And, he will also have the wisdom to tackle him into a bear hug, through the years to come.
And I will willingly sit in the bleaches, cheering them on, as he and our son grow and learn together.
Having now been back to work, in a school, for three days, I am confident of one thing … school is not school without the students!
Having spent a week in my childhood home in New Brunswick, this summer on my own, I had ample opportunity to consider what it is that defines the province, and it’s people, for me since I am no longer ‘one of them.’
If you are in New Brunswick (or, really, any province from Ontario east) you will notice bilingualism everywhere. Every sign on the road, every government publication, every service from business to public, is available in both English and French. New Brunswick became Canada’s first (and still only) officially bilingual province in 1969 (a very good year π ). The francophone community makes up about one third of the population of the province, with most being Acadian. But, my knowledge of french, in this bilingual province, is far more commonly known there as franglaise … a little french and a little english combined … it makes understanding both languages so much easier π .
Beginnings are great! A fresh start, a clean slate, a new page. Well, after a two month (well, for me it was more like a two week) break from working in a school, today is back to work … sigh (for those of you who do not work in on a school schedule, I realize that you will be playing your miniature violins, as I whine and complain about the end of summer break. I know the perspectives of non-school workers of those of us who work a school schedule … ‘you work less than eight hours a day,’ ‘you get two weeks off at Christmas,’ ‘you get two weeks off at Spring Break,’ ‘you get two months off in the summer,’ ‘there seems to be a Professional day every month’ and on, and on, and on. I have broad shoulders, I can handle it π But, I digress).
This summer I heard someone say, ‘begin with the end in mind.’ It seemed so simple, yet so profound a statement. It is a statement of understanding goals, consequences, hope and vision. It is a statement that makes me think about what I hope the end to look like.
I was in a shopping mall, doing a little shopping for a few little trinkets to bring home to my kids (okay, trinkets might be the wrong word … it just has connotations of a grandmother who is obsessive compulsive about little ornaments and ‘do-dads’, and her house is littered with them … providing ample opportunity to spend hours each week dusting, polishing and moving from place to place … but, I digress), when, all of a sudden I got an urge to pee (and, anyone who has given birth knows that an urge like that only means one thing … making it to the bathroom on time is like living with a ticking time bomb … never knowing just when, or how cataclysmic the explosion might be).
wearing pants, and the other a dress, I fought to not allow my fear of the unknown get to me. I needed to maintain my composure and dignity, and not go off running through the mall like a maniac, yelling ‘I gotta pee, where do I go to go?’

All joking aside, it is a commandment … the fifth (Exodus 20:12), as a matter of fact it says, “to honor your mother and your father, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” Now I don’t know what land God is giving to me … I have moved a few times, and I expect there are a few more moves to come. But I am not sure that ‘land’ in this context necessarily means land. I think that maybe it means place, location, culture, context … family.
It is a cool place of red stone, magnificently formed ‘flowerpots’ (often called this because they rise out of the sand and stones, many feet into the air, with plant life growing on top of them), fossils and tides that rise and fall as much as fifty feet, two times each day. It is believed that it is the location of a mountain range that surpasses the size of the western Rockie Mountains. All that to say, it is a beautiful place of wonder.
Once you are on the ocean floor, to say you feel miniscule is an understatement. The floor that you walk is is more stoney than sandy. And it is red’ish in color. It is easy to see the usual heights that the tides bring the water to, by the wear of the rocks all around.
Fundy has always made me think of quicksand. It just looks like it could swallow a person in moments.
high tide, (every twelve ‘ish hours) the beach is cleared of people and filled with muddy water.
(
that friends from the west coast, where everything over fifty years old gets torn down). Thanks to the progress of technology, and specifically GPS, the lighthouse is no longer in use (since 2000, when it was decommissioned).
and cut with a cutter, or glass into round biscuits (or, live on the edge and just cut them into squares, or rectangles, or hearts, or … oh, how my undiagnosed ADD is surfacing now … maybe Pac-Man?). Keep rolling and cutting until all the dough is used. My dad’s ritual includes making a ‘hot dog’ … this is where he takes the last bit of dough (more than the amount for one ‘normal’ biscuit), and forming it into the cylindrical shape of a hot dog. This is the MOST COVETED biscuit in the bunch! It is bigger than the rest, and it is … different! If Dad places the ‘hot dog’ biscuit on your plate … you are the favorite person at that meal!
My day started when the alarm rang at 6:15am, so that I could join my dad for a walk … unfortunately he slept through his alarm, so our walk was a bit later, and a bit shorter.
it … in the entire province of New Brunswick, the number of locations has almost tripled in three years! From three locations, in 2008, to eight, in 2011 … I have entered the dominion of Tim Hortons! But, I digress), I am so thankful for the free wi-fi they offer (according to my free wi-fi app, the two Starbucks locations are the only free wi-fi hotspots within walking distance of where I am).