Priorities

Every so often I re-examine where my life is and where I want it to go. During the last two years I have brought some extra income into our home by babysitting. Usually I have six extra children from early morning until dinner time. It means there is rarely a quiet moment in the house, my own kids don't get all the attention they think they need (and they are probably right), and my introverted self gets a little crazy having people around every day; all the time. I admit I've done my share of griping about the road my life has taken.

I started watching children because we needed the extra income but felt it was important that I still be home for my own kids. In that sense it works well. My kids know I am always here when they need me and I'm home when they come home from school. But every so often another job opportunity comes up.

The latest was this last week. I interviewed for a job right here in my little town. As my husband and I discussed all the pros and cons of taking or not taking this job I was amazed at how good the life I have now looks. Sure, I rarely leave the house (really hard with six kids under the age of five), the house is never as clean as I would like, and there is the constant noise. But I always come back to the idea that I love being home for my kids.

The other thing that came to the forefront of our conversations was the affect taking the job would have on my writing time. Right now I am usually able to get in at least an hour while all the kids lay down for a "quiet time" and then some time in the evening. I sure hate to give that up. With my husband's encouragement we decided that the decision about which job to take must be heavily influenced by the effect it will have on my writing. By taking this other job, I would lose that hour of writing time, and because of the nature of the job I would lose some evening time as well.

I'm just grateful that my husband is so supportive of me. In the end it always comes down to what I really want to do. But even more than that, it comes down to his absolute belief in my talents and abilities. I sure love that my biggest fan keeps pushing me on and when I do re-examine my priorities, he is standing there cheering for me, whatever decision I make.

Magrath Days - Part 3

The free beef-on-a-bun is like being invited to a giant family dinner. My family lines up early, as we do every year. We manage to be near the front of the quickly growing line, but soon notice something different from previous years. The smell of mouth-watering beef is absent. The news spreads with lightning speed. Our beef has been ordered from a neighboring town, but somehow the order has been messed up and the beef isn’t there. We are assured that it’s on its way, and, if we wait patiently, we will be fed. Hundreds of people are stunned into silence at the thought of waiting any longer for dinner.

Then the rumors start flying. “I hear that the meat shop did this on purpose.” (We have a long-standing, friendly rivalry with the neighboring town.) “They are going to feed the town council first and we will get some if there is any left.” “Well, I heard that they are getting the meat from the deer my car hit last night.”

Ten . . . twenty . . . thirty minutes. We keep waiting for people to start scattering to their own homes for real food instead of relying on the promise that dinner will arrive soon. The children quickly desert the line, choosing to wait on the playground. Adults mingle, renewing old acquaintances. Forty . . . fifty minutes. Still the rumors fly and the line grows. We have been promised a meal and we aren’t leaving without one.

The amazing thing is that there’s not a mean word spoken. Nobody blames the mayor for the problem. Instead, there is much laughter, joking, and visiting. And then the meat arrives. The half-expected cheer never comes, just quiet smiles of gratitude. This is a town that is too used to unexpected things life throws at them everyday to be upset about missing beef. As we go through the line and the mayor serves us, friendly ribbing is heard, and folks congratulate him for finally getting the meat there. I feel an enormous amount of pride to belong to a town that has learned to accept these sorts of things with grace and humor.

That is what draws us all to Magrath, the family feeling that can still be found after years of absence. Some choose to head to the big lights of the city, looking for more opportunity or more excitement. Others just want to move away from family to prove that they can do it on their own. Many return permanently to raise their own children in this safe and friendly community. But we all feel that pull once a year to celebrate the birth of the town that raised us. It is the weekend that my family grows from eight to eighteen hundred. It is my favourite weekend of the year.

Magrath Days - Part 2

Watching the parade is truly one of the highlights of the day. The R.C.M.P. always leads the way, followed by our award-winning high school band, The Spirit of Alberta, complete with bagpipes and a colour guard. They are followed by floats of every shape and size -- each family reunion has one, as does each class reunion. Churches and businesses in town are also represented. Candy is thrown to the children from almost every float. One of my children says, “This is almost as good as Halloween!” The best years are when the organizers decide that the parade just won’t be long enough the way it is. On those years the parade passes down Main Street, does a u-turn at the corner of the post office and the Trading Company and goes back the way it came. Those years we get to see the parade twice.

All afternoon there are activities to appeal to every age group. The talent show is a wonderful way to see some of the up and coming talent and become reacquainted with our old favourites. The highland dancers give a rousing performance, a reunited garage band brings back memories, and cloggers tap their way across the stage. We respond with lots of laughter and applause.

The softball tournament has been going since Thursday evening and tension is high as everyone wonders who will emerge the victor. The crack of the bat rings through the hot summer air as everyone cheers for their family. We know that whoever wins, everyone had a good time.

Then there are the lawnmower races, an event that must be seen. When the ride-on mowers are lined up and ready to go, the signal is given. Participants must maneuvre their machines around obstacles and beat the others back to the starting line. The dust flies as one tractor does a wheelie and another takes a corner on two wheels. We cheer for our favorite as if this were the Olympics.

Magrath Days - Part 1

“I can’t wait to leave this town.” Most high school students in Magrath utter that phrase at least once. Yet like so many of the people who live or grew up here, we gather every year to celebrate our community’s birthday.

Magrath is a little town situated between the coulees and grain fields of Southern Alberta. Tree-lined streets and flower beds in almost every yard have earned our town the title of The Garden City. Fifty-one weekends a year it is a quiet place, where friendly people wave at every car and going to the post office is a social event. But every summer, the little town of Magrath dons its best party clothes and prepares for the weekend of July twenty-fourth.

There is a lot to be done before the big weekend. Phone calls and letters are exchanged to plan family and class reunions. Floats for the parade are created, numbers are prepared for the talent show and the evening program, families and friends practise for the annual softball tournament, and ride-on lawnmowers are tuned up for the big races. Beds are made ready for all the family and friends who are coming home.

The town crews put many hours into cleaning up the town, painting new lines on the roads, hanging flower baskets from the telephone poles and Canadian flags along Main Street. Families display flags in front of their homes and tend flower gardens with the greatest care. Everything must be just right.

Soon, the highly anticipated weekend arrives. Saturday morning people line the streets waiting for the parade to start. Some sit and enjoy watching the bustling folks around them. My sisters and I walk up and down the streets greeting familiar faces that we haven’t seen in months or years. The quiet town has been transformed.

My Favorite Weekend

This coming weekend is my favorite holiday of the year. Oh sure, Christmas rates tight up there, but the last weekend in July is definitely the one I look forward to the most. For much of the LDS church, the 24th of July is the weekend we honor our pioneer ancestors. Maybe the reason our town's annual celebration is held on this weekend is because Magrath was established by in 1899 by Mormon pioneers sent to Alberta by John Taylor to help with the irrigation system in the area. My own grandparents were among those pioneers.

Pioneers aren't focused on too often during our celebration anymore. The town has grown to have an eclectic mix of religions and backgrounds and we try to include everyone. But whether we are celebrating our pioneer heritage or the fact that we belong to one of the best communities around doesn't matter to me. I love this weekend because there is so much to do and everyone comes home. Over the next three days, I will post an article about "Magrath Days" I wrote for our local newspaper a few years ago. I hope you enjoy.
Meanwhile, most of my writing time this week will be spent visiting with family, old school chums, and neighbors as I enjoy the town I call home.

(The first picture is "The Spirit of Alberta" marching band during the parade and the second picture is my oldest daughter performing Scottish Higland dancing during an outdoor program last year. I can't wait for this year!)

Word Pictures

I have the opportunity to serve in our ward primary presidency. Most of the time I miss Relief Society. I love being with the sisters. That said, Primary is where it's at. I don't believe there is anywhere else in the church where the spirit is felt so readily as the Primary. I can't count the number of times I've wished I could take a picture or video recording of the priceless moments we experience every week.

Today one of our eleven year old boys came to me after church asking if he could give a five minute talk on faith for the sacrament meeting presentation in the fall. How many adults would volunteer for the same task? I'd love to capture on film all the little talks given by the sunbeams (or their mothers :) . And the music. That is when the room is at its most peaceful and our hearts are truly touched.

Being summer, we had a lot of visitors today, and most of them seemed to fall in the same age bracket. Our ten and eleven year old classes are combined because one of our teachers moved away, and we haven't been able to replace her. So the class is big anyway. When I took the visiting children to the classroom and looked in my jaw dropped. The good brother (he's in his late sixties) who teaches this class already had a roomful and with the extra I brought him, he ended up with 17 children. I looked at him and asked if he would need any help. He just smiled at me. "We are fine." Then he looked at each of the children. "These are choice spirits who are here to learn." I wish I could have taken a picture of this faithful brother and the eager faces of those children. He was fine and they did learn.

So here is where being a writer comes in handy. I couldn't capture on film the moment when the eighteen people in that room looked at me, eager to teach and learn. I couldn't record the excitement in the young voice that volunteered for a talk. But I can paint a word picture that will perfectly describe the day. The faces of the children and teacher will come readily to my mind every time I read about them. I can describe the feelings in the room when the children sing.

And that is what writing is all about. Capturing a moment. Portraying an emotion that is so real you feel as if you are experiencing it for the first time. And when you can get others to read it and understand that moment and feeling, then the writing becomes real. It becomes more than just words on a page.

Counting Stars by Michele Paige Holmes

Even though I am part way through several books on my Summer Reading Thing list, I wasn' t in the mood for any of them this afternoon and picked up the new book Counting Stars by Michele Paige Holmes. I finished it this evening and have to say that I loved it.

The story is about Jane, who is coming up on her 30th birthday and is still single. When she turns to the personal ads to find a date it ends up changing her life in ways she never expected. She meets Paul and his premature twins and agrees to become part of their lives. But don't think this is a happy ever after, formula romance. The story takes twists and turns that kept me flipping pages until I reached the end. Right until the last few pages, I couldn't predict who she would end up with. The book had a few cheesy parts as most romances do, but the last quarter of the book held me riveted, and I even had to go find the kleenex.

The worst part was the teaser for her next book at the very end. I want to read it now and it hasn't been published yet. But I will be first in line when it hits the shelves. Michele Holmes did a great job on her first novel and I hope there are many more to follow.