Karen Toews
Scripting Vibrant Living Beyond An Empty Nest
It’s Never Too Late…
November 21, 2019 my daughter Renee sent me an email: “Mom, I read this quote of Anne Lamott’s today: thought it could encourage you to keep going with your writing.”
I am a fan of Anne Lamott’s writing and no-nonsense philosophy about life (maybe you are too and like me, also save her quotes) – Lamott didn’t disappoint.
“What if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and never got your memoir or novel written, or you didn’t go swimming in those warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.” Wow, a lot of good stuff there!
In 2019 I was 66. “Yes Anne. I got the message“. The part about the jiggly thighs didn’t apply but I had not yet written the memoir: (a.k.a. the life stories I’d been wanting to write.)
I wrote Renee back: “I am not going to let my heart be broken – I will not let that happen. You read it here.” She responded: “Oh, big hugs to you Mom. You have a big juicy beautiful life, tell us about it.”
In 2024 Renee and her husband moved from two provinces away to live “next door” (oh happy day!) and I threw myself into making new living experiences with my closest friend now living just across the yard! My writing resolution faded; slipping back to minimal spurts. My Enneagram personalty type 7 – whose default is jumping from one thing I like to do (think fun!) on to the next thing – didn’t help much.
New confidence and encouragement were helpful touchpoints but my writing progress was slow. And sporadic. I wrote several pieces – even paid good coaches for some support. But I had a long ways to go.
Finally. August 25/25, I woke up to my writing senses: declaring in my journal: “I am 72 and it’s time to make this happen, however it’s going to look.“
To help get my mojo back I’m writing this post for my friends and readers who have faithfully read my past writing. Your time and interest is much appreciated. (Fingers crossed that you’ll stay!)
I’m also facing up to the part of Lamott’s quote re: “perfectionism and people-pleasing “. I’m thinking that by the stage and age where I’m at I should let these go!
Call it an all or nothing, go big or go home kind of event: kind of similar to two decades ago when I committed to running a marathon or other event. I registered with a fee, drove or booked the flight, planned the accommodations, trained in every kind of weather. And I showed up! From my vantage point now, that whole scenario seems easier than keeping my fingers moving on the computer keys and hoping for a focused mind!
A return to those good ol’ running years is too late. However, my desire and intention for retaining and sharing life stories for my family and beyond is more meaningful than the medals and racing bibs gathering dust in boxes in the closet.
So again, I’m giving my writing project another chance: Ready, Set…. GO!!!
Thank you to my close friend and cheerleader, Renee. T
Thank you to you, my readers, permission granted to help keep me accountable!
Love and God Bless!
Karen
A new house….plus SO much more
April 13th marked one year since Derryl and I moved into our new house. We’re in our seventies: I think this is our last house, albeit I’ve said that before – including the house before this one – which I loved; where I was totally content. As shared in a previous blog, there was a plan afoot that our daughter and son-in-law would some day move from their home in Montreal to Nova Scotia to be closer to us. The idea, the for-realness of having family move here hadn’t been in my wildest dreams. Other than a two-year span when our son and family lived in Nova Scotia, our two children and their families have never lived near us. So as this plan percolated, just to be prepared Derryl got busy designing a house to build for the two of us. And the ‘kids’ – Renee and Damien- could live in our home. With Derryl’s good track record for finishing projects he begins, I started wrapping my head around the notion we’d be ‘making home again.‘
Renee and Damien coordinated the timing for their move from Montreal, factoring in their three young-adult kids’ education and on-going housing for staying in Montreal. Both Damien and Renee work virtually, but other details included wrapping up their Montreal life, i.e. saying good-bye to friends and favourite haunts, confirming Renee’s steps for finishing her Master’s program at Concordia University.
On our home front; Derryl organized his life and work schedule to include building a beautiful, one-level home tucked behind huge oak and pine trees, on the other side of our driveway. And grateful I wasn’t under pressure to move quickly, I started purging excess stuff; transporting household belongings by car back and forth, carrying something every time I walked to the new house – and my heart gradually moved from one house to the new one.
The aha moment – this is home! – landed after we moved the contents of our bedroom, slept overnight and woke up to the familiar view of the LaHave River.
Having critical kitchen items on site – i.e. espresso machine, toast and jam, granola and yogurt – sealed the deal. Welcome home!
The next two months we thoroughly emptied the house, washed windows, swept away dust and cobwebs. On June 15th, after a long day on the road, Renee and Damien drove up the driveway.
The plan was really happening: Renee’s blogpost shares some of her initial thoughts and impressions .
It wasn’t hard for Derryl and I to shift into communal living with the Tougas’. We’ve shared space before. Hiking-tenting for a couple weeks on the Appalachian Trail; several months when they stayed with us while the family transitioned back to Canada from the U.S. – then there were a few weeks together when they were ‘stuck’ at our house at the outset of the COVID kaffuffle. I reckon those extended periods of positive co-habitation encouraged us for this ‘big hurrah’ of togetherness. As family and as friends, we would and could share our world. And this Sanctuary property – its warmth of life, love and laughter – has evolved through friendship, honesty, and respect for each other’s privacy and space.
Cooking and sharing meals, picking berries, hiking and camping, walking on beaches, going to markets – wonderful together-fun when wired with similar genes! Week-end movie nights and sports on the big screen; waving hello to each other across the yard; helping and being helped with chores or skills we don’t have ourselves. i.e. full disclosure for Derryl and I, how did we manage before without Damien’s computer, internet – technical support?! So far, keeping my cookie jar full with his favourite (oatmeal, chocolate chip) and a bowl of home-roasted peanuts handy for quick snacks have been sufficient payoffs!
To complete the family circle, late summer-September our son Brad began his process of moving from the U.S. back to Canada. Destination: here at the Sanctuary!
A space above the coach-house style garage was waiting to be developed. A fast-track construction project kicked into gear: since this photo was taken it has developed into a sunshiny suite: a way-station for Brad and a room for Joah – one of his three young-adult kids – to join him when not away at university.
Sharing kindred passions.
“Dad and Brad” on a jobsite last fall.
A smaller house is suiting me just fine. Cleaning has never been my favourite gig – but I do love “hubbub-space” in my kitchen. We’re making up for all the years our family wasn’t part of that hospitality action: our family Christmas was a positive kick-off!
Now it’s spring: Renee’s passion for gardening – and aptitude for organization-design for such – is creating a system to the garden. A VERY welcome shift from my helter-skelter style – I love being able to ask: “what do you want me to do?!” Where there’s building involved, Derryl and Renee are all in – so heart-stretching for me at the other end of the garden plot to hear their chatter.
An acquisition for Damien and Renee since moving here: a “side-by-side” to explore Nova Scotia’s myriad off-road trails… which is also useful for hauling bags of garbage to the bottom of the driveway for municipal collection. Thanks, Damien!
As the months and years stretch ahead – I’m SO grateful for the everyday-ness of family living here.Thank you God for this blessing.
And thank you for reading my story.
A late review – our twelve days of Christmas
Except for a few deck lights and red balls with mini lights wrapped around my bamboo tree, Christmas decor is stashed away in storage. The poinsettia and some shortbread, fruitcake, nuts and cereal snack mix are reminders of the Sanctuary’s 12-day Christmas celebration. Coordinating all the family’s schedules to be here at the Sanctuary for a few days overlap, played out as strategically designed by all those concerned. No small feat. Well done, all. Photos and memories are lasting reminders of the fun and family fellowship we enjoyed. Wonderful.
Before the family festivities began, we hosted our annual friends-neighbourhood brunch December 22nd (following our pattern: the Sunday before Christmas). Once again, a wonderful mix of conversation, laughter and yummy food. So thankful for our community. Dec. 21st we got an unusually big dump of snow (especially for here in Nova Scotia): what fun to look out the window and see our visiting grandson constructing a snowman to welcome guests we were expecting the following day. Thanks Joah for building this fella – and also directing brunch traffic the next day.
December 23rd the celebration around our table honoured our son Brad’s 47th birthday. Leg of lamb, roasted potatoes… the whole deal….ending with chocolate for dessert. Every year we’re together there’s a celebration on his day! Not his fault that his parent’s family planning was a non-issue.
To finish off the birthday party Brad had a delicious gift for us: the cheese on the right. My Swedish father, and Scottish mother who embraced his Scandinavian cuisine, called this golden specialty Gjetost – the brand of the company who imported it. By definition though, the cheese is identified as Brunost. (Sadly, this is Brad’s only birthday photo. My apologies, Brad – what kind of Mom am I?)
Here’s the story behind this gift. For readers who have acquired a taste for this flavourful cheese, it makes perfect sense I would go to great lengths to track down the closest source in the country. Very few Scandinavian immigrants made Nova Scotia their home: most chose to settle in the prairie provinces. Well, it so happened that in December, Brad was in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan for a couple weeks on a Christmas-work-music-tour. The Google search for specialty cheese shops connected me to The Bulk Cheese Warehouse: a phone call placed my order; another call to my son and the plan was done. The two chunks he brought home – compliments of a kind friend he met – was a most delicious Christmas gift!
The snow kept falling! A white Christmas is wonderful (even for the clean-up crew) and Laurent’s arrival on the 24th was perfect timing! How fun for me to join these two grown-up grandsons for a woods hike – fingers crossed that I can do this for many more years!
December 25th: a pleasant, relaxed kind of Christmas Day. Started with brunch at our house ……
…..then a woods walk with Renee,
… later a delicious supper at the Tougas. Gathering with family around their table – and in their house where Derryl and I lived for over 13 years filled my heart and soul beyond any gift under the tree.
Pears poached in wine for dessert.
A couple free-fall days after that were a welcome respite: for cooks and the calorie intake. Time to get outside in the snow and soak in the sunshine!
….and inhale some brisk sea air @ Rissers Beach.
….and after daylight hours, time for noisy Dutch Blitz! Too much for Pippen – looking for the door!
Then it was the last day of 2024: blessed with perfect weather for our annual Hirtle Beach-Gaff point hike.
Group photo: Damien, Laurent, Joah, me, Derryl, Iris, Ciel, Renee, Brienne, Ian.
Back to the Sanctuary – a delicious taco supper before a rousing “wrap up the old year and look ahead to the new” conversation around the bonfire. So much laughter – and thoughtful contemplation.
Then it was off to our house to watch Junior hockey on the big screen.
Too bad the Canadian team lost the hockey game 😦 but all in all we’d had a grand together-family-time before the first of the grands had to leave next day for home.
Three grands were still on site for a few more days – I brought out a game I bought several months ago in hopes to introduce it to my family over the holidays. Crokinole: I grew up with it, haven’t played it for decades. Mission accomplished! Great fun.
I could wrap up with “then life started moving back to normal” but I’m discovering ‘normal’ doesn’t apply to my present season. But then again, if normal means busy with some travel plans already in place and spontaneity for other adventures (that’s my Enneagram 7 personality!), life will back to normal!
Either way, I’m up for it.
2025, here I come…..
Thank you for scrolling and reading through this long photo story. I’m taking steps to change my blog platform as my intentions for it have evolved into another direction. Please stay tuned, I appreciate your interest and connection.
Love and God bless your 2025!
Karen
Foto-fest: 4 months with family, friends and nature
What a ride my “summer-autumn” season has been. Gardening, visiting, cooking and accommodating guests, not willing to miss the glories of wonderful weather, being in and feeling nature…..interspersed with trips to the airport picking up or dropping off travellers. Not a roller coaster, more like a magnetic levitation : the term used for trains with magnetic fields to propel them along quickly, yet with stability. I admit there were moments I felt off balance with all the kaffuffle, but like the trains; I stayed on track. And the great memories are worth it.
This photo story isn’t chronological but a random, spontaneous style much like how life happened. Photos are first: followed by captions.
Such glorious summer weather for gardening and its pleasures: wonderful to share the work and wonder with daughter Renee – now my closest neighbour – who’s also entranced by the joys of nature. Thanks to her I observed in our garden the cycle of the monarch larvae, chrysalis, through to butterfly stage.
So delighted with two raspberry crops, early summer and fall – in spite of my willy-nilly cane pruning last fall!
Family from our western Canadian roots, Trent and Shauna Forsberg. Prairie people – including Derryl and I – are always keen to walk a beach. Great talks with these special folks.
Dale and Ella Unland: Alberta friends we’ve known forever. SO much laughter and reminiscing. Heart-filling.
On a perfectly beautiful day I joined the Sole Mates (hiking group of women of similar-vintage) for a ferry ride across the bay from Chester, Nova Scotia to Tancook Island. Met by a friendly local who toured us around – some of us sitting in the back of her half-ton truck (one of the few vehicles on the island) we saw the island’s highlights: including a small gift shop where I discovered a thin Tancook 101 booklet. At the time of printing, one of the details listed in “everything you need to know about life on Big Tancook Island” was that six students were enrolled at the elementary school. An island with a vibe all its own? Of a truth.
Dream come true for Renee and I. Hiking in to Pollett’s Cove (Cape Breton Island) , tent overnight and hike back out the next day. We had so much fun…. loved it. Her video version tells the full story of this fun trip!
How blessed: all of us love outdoor activity. Derryl, Brad and I hiking near Sussex, NB. Cycling with Brad near Chester, NS.
Before moving to Nova Scotia in 2007 I hadn’t a clue how much water there was here! The rivers, the lakes, the Atlantic Ocean. I LOVE it: the best stand-in for the open skies of the prairies.
LaHave River: the body of water I see from our house and yard – and walk along, on the secondary road at the end of our driveway. I will NEVER tire of this gift. Nor take for granted the gift of paddling my kayak on this river (from which this photo was taken) and look up where our home, the Sanctuary sits – on the left behind that front row of white houses. This summer a seal has been bobbing up and down on this stretch of water, but never staying up long enough for me to capture on camera!
Unlimited beaches to enjoy in full sun. Or watch at early evening, in awe, waiting for the moon to rise.
…..endless shorelines to explore walking, kayaking, cycling.
Nature’s paintbrush dressing up our backyard, splashing across the sky and over the LaHave. Breathtaking.
Now it’s November, dealing with dry oak leaves wanting to swish through the door, putting ‘things in order’ in the garden. Planting garlic in a couple of days.
I am blessed, I am grateful.
Thanks for reading, Karen.
Home is ….
I am now ready to write the next instalment of a story that began about 12 years ago while hiking in the woods with our daughter Renee. The recap: Renee shared the intention she and her husband Damien wanted to move to live near her Dad (Derryl) and I in our older years, to spend time together and help us as we aged. (The full story I’ve written here. ) As she and I walked under a canopy of trees, feeling alive with fresh air and exercise, this was a “wow, that’s awesome” moment: one I carefully tucked away for safe keeping: thinking its unfolding was way off yonder in the future.
Life happened for several years – and with Renee and Damien’s steadfast intention this wasn’t just a cool idea – they moved to the Sanctuary June 15/24. I am truly getting my head and heart wrapped around the wonderful reality of how this looks and feels.
Backing up. In early 2022 the “family-together-plan” gained momentum: planning how to make it happen. True to his style, Derryl the builder plunged into the planning for sub-dividing our existing property, and then building another house for us two ‘getting-older’ people. Fitting the project into an existing schedule of work projects, this house-build proceeded over a matter of time, a factor in our favour.
Before completion, the house-in-progress came in handy for visitors satisfied with make-shift window coverings, a comfortable bed and a working bathroom. A great practice run for future holiday and celebration gatherings.
Bit by bit, box by box, Derryl and I moved our belongings to the new house. SO much purging (a good thing), deciding what we really needed for a smaller space (a harder thing), we pecked away at it. April 14, 2024 Derryl and I “moved into our bedroom” (although more stuff had yet to be moved from the other place!) and installed the sign that has hung by our front door since our Alberta days.
We lived in the new house, a.k.a. slept and ate there, for three nights leading up to a short trip to attend a memorial service for Derryl’s Dad. These three days were long enough to discover that yes, the view from our bedroom was different from our previous one, and it was also a beautiful one! Thank you to Derryl for his strategic – brilliant – house-positioning.
On our return from the short trip away, walking through the front door into the new house the sense of THIS IS HOME was so palpable it surprised me.
And now the Tougas – Renee and Damien – are in their home. I love seeing how these two ‘creatives’ have made that space their’s – it’s beyond satisfying, when I look at their place and know by what they say, and how they’re settling into this location, they’re both happy here. In the past they’ve often stayed for short (sometimes longer) times with us on this property: now we have the comfort, pleasure, of knowing we can see them tomorrow, and the next day, and….that their three young adult kids – our grandkids – will be coming to see them and we’ll see them too!!
Some views of daily living across the yard from each other. Renee is creating order from the previous “rambunctious” chaos of the perennial sort-of-English garden alongside their deck. (i.e. my spontaneous planting over the last several years.)
Hoeing weeds in the “garden that has vegetables, raspberries and other stuff”, calls my name. It has, or is still, producing some greens, beans, cucumbers, garlic, a few onions, some herbs – and the odd raspberry off a patch that has potential. So thankful Renee is a researcher – my ‘go how you feel’ method isn’t reliable.
Shared appreciation for Monarch butterflies: their flitting about, watching caterpillars feeding on the milkweed, the excitement discovering the chrysalis below, tucked in the holly plant.
More things we love:
Absorbing nature’s beauty, working with technique and tools to share her experiences with others as seen through the lens has been Renee’s passion. Capturing the photo below from the vantage point of their deck, I say thank you, Renee and Damien for moving here. May there be many years of fun and activities together before the older people get really old! On that note: Damien didn’t get a lot of air time here. I know him well enough to understand that’s generally the way he likes it. But truth be told, I love our son-in-law: hearing him from over yonder faithfully practicing his guitar, his prompt answers and solutions for our (frequent) techie challenges, giving him a wave when we’ve happened to both be out walking along the river . And ever grateful for the time spent and things he’s taught me as a back-packer hiker.
June 20th – around the Sanctuary’s fire pit to enjoy the moon (and swat a few mosquitoes).
Family sharing in our everyday living … this is home.
Final Farewell to My Father Toews
I’ve been privileged to have had two fathers. My biological Dad – Eric Forsberg: my loving, quiet-spoken, stable rock – and a pastor from my childhood who became my father-in-law: Jacob B Toews, who personally inserted the B because he wanted a middle name (no surprise that his son does things just because he wants to!) When these two ‘fathers’ met, they became friends. Jake and his family had just returned from a few years in the West Indies where they worked to help small church congregations get established. Dad was a member of our church board; a few years older than Jake – who was receptive to my father’s gentle spirit and sage wisdom. In those years – as a kid – this girl perceived pastor Jake as austere: also handsome, just like his son!
Preachers tend to move often: it was a sad day when in sixth grade the family moved to Manitoba. However destiny prevailed. The boy and this girl connected as teen-agers at a camp in Minnesota, USA. (The story how this came to be includes the girl’s minister-brother living at the time in Winnipeg, Manitoba.) Dad Toews and his family then lived in the U.S. He was the camp director: it was the inaugural launch of the camp and Dad Toews’ mind and schedule was full of distractions and responsibilities – unaware one night of his son’s whereabouts; kissing this girl under a huge oak tree. One could say that on all counts, camp was a success!
The girl went home to Alberta; the flame flickered out until three years later when she heard the boy had moved home to his Alberta-Canadian roots. She gave him a call – yes, that’s the way it went – and like the saying goes “the rest is history.” The boy and girl got married, they were both twenty, had two children within the next four years, and lived within driving distance of Mom and Dad Toews and the boy’s 7 siblings (the family had moved back to Alberta).
The girl was embraced into the family – a comfortable transition eased by shared history and common backgrounds. Yet the perception of Dad Toews’s austere-ness persisted: until he visited the hospital to meet his first grand-child. Like an inner lightbulb had switched on, his smile and eyes translated to the girl – “wow – truly amazing, thank you for Renee, a beautiful granddaughter.” This expression of warmth eliminated any future sense of ‘distance’ the girl had felt.
Two years later Dad Toews embraced the baby brother that completed his son’s family: a namesake to carry forward the family lineage. Precious were the years of living within a short drive of each other.
Decades of life evolved over many seasons. The preacher moved to several different pulpits in the years following. One of these pulpits was only an hour away from the family foursome – everybody loved this closeness. Grandma and Grandpa showered love on these grandkids, even taking them camping! A special highlight for that first wee grand-daughter was Dad Toews officiating her marriage ceremony.
Dad Toews came from a very large family – more than a dozen children – it’s no surprise that there were difficult times. Sadly, it was especially rough for Dad; with hardships and pain beyond the meagre food rations at their table. Sadly, these wounds re-surfaced and tormented him throughout his life.
With the grace and support of loving aunties Dad Toews grew to be a young man – followed by opportunities to make decisions for his life. He attended a church, met people who cared about him in a way he he could understand: Jake, we love you. And more importantly, God loves you: you’re a young man with hope and potential for the future. The condensed version from there: he went to a Bible School to learn more about this God; he met and shortly thereafter, married Lorie. (To add spice to this story – prior to this – Lorie was one of the servers at the girl’s parents’ wedding!) Jake and Lorie built – and have left- a rich legacy of descendants. As the boy says: “…eight children who are not only decent human beings, but their families and grandchildren love and support each other. What’s more significant than this?!”
The girl knew she was blessed – the only issues with her in-law Mom and Dad were figuring out when they could next see their grandkids! As years progressed, physical distance from each other also grew – literally right across the country. A family reunion August 2023 was a gift for a rare ‘sit down together’ visit. Dad’s Parkinson’s made phone chats difficult.
The boy’s siblings were graciously bearing the load for Dad’s Doc appointments, arranging his living accommodations, supporting his bad days: and enduring difficult, ill-tempered moods triggered from Dad’s unsettled re-cycled memories. Life is not all sweet and rosy for anyone; and for some, more difficult and dark than people around can understand.
Four weeks ago today the girl was honoured to participate in Dad Toews’ memorial service. Today she says “good-bye, I love you – it’s been my privilege to call you too, my father. May you rest in peace.”
The Girl
Feeling the Distance, Missing my People
When we moved to Nova Scotia in 2007, other than our realtor and the neighbours next door, everyone was a stranger. This was going to be home; intent on meeting people, I’d strike up a conversation with practically anyone: at the grocery store, on the beach, at local fundraising breakfasts and suppers. I’d sometimes be asked: “who are your people?”, a tagline to help locate who and where is your extended family. In my personal aversion to ‘being labelled’ (I’m not alone on this one) I initially found it off-putting. But I’ve accepted it as a curiosity, “with whom do you belong?”and that is a human hunger I can relate to.
Still considering this question, who are my people, they are many.
They are my children and grandchildren who currently live in Quebec and the Southern States.
They are my siblings and extended family who live ‘out West’: people with whom I share roots and memories, and visit at least annually for reunions, summer vacations, seasonal celebrations, weddings.
They are the people I have come from – immigrants with broad hopes and dreams for their people. They raised their families in the province of Alberta, as I did: there were many of us families within a couple hours of each other.
I respond to the query with “I’m born and raised Albertan”: and sometimes add – “my people are MacKays and Forsbergs hailing from Scotland and Sweden”.
This blessing of being born and raised in a happily-connected wide circle of ‘my people’ has another edge: the sense of loss and sadness when you are separated.
And missing the funerals is when I especially feel the distance. Yes, Derryl and I travel to share the times when close family members have passed. But we both have a large host of relations, and we often have to say our good-bye’s from afar.
This winter I especially felt that loss of shared touch and tears – in January, a month in itself a darker season of seeking comfort and warmth. Two of my maternal (MacKay) cousins – Sonja and Dwight – died about two weeks apart. How I wanted to be there to hug Sonja’s daughters – loving and supportive to their Mom – and mourn with my aunt and uncle saying good bye to their son. Only 60, his signature impish smile and sparkling eyes will never be forgotten.
These two cousins and their families lived several miles apart in the eastern zone of Alberta, where my maternal Scottish grandparents and two children immigrated to, in 1926. More children were born, some married and stayed in that same area – Mom was one of a few siblings who moved to about 100 miles west of there. Extended family ties were important: in spite of milk cows and other related farm chores, we visited back and forth several times a year in all seasons. Summer reunions we showed up, not wanting to miss the delicious food, the ballgames and all that laughter.
The seven ‘original MacKays’. Left to right: Lil, Joan, Don, Jack, Ellen, Bet (my Mom), Nan. Francis, a step-brother, was not in attendance at this reunion.
Auntie Joan and Uncle Jack live in their same communities, the others in the photo are deceased.
Not every extended family feels connected, for myriad reasons. However it happened that I received this gift of God’s kindness, I hope and pray these blessings of extended family friendship-relationship will not end with me:
- Not having to explain why you feel a certain way or understand details about a specific happening – there’s just a knowing – we were there at the reunion or the wedding. Or you’ve heard the details from those who were – multiple times.
- There’s a thing about just being yourself.
- You belong – just because of who you are.
- Messy bits belong as much as the hilarious times.
- Always an open door to visit – and knew you could give or receive acceptance and help.
Thanks to technology, I could watch both of my cousin’s farewell services streamed online. Dwight’s ended with this song: ‘Til you Can’t by Cody Johnson. Keep dreaming, keep hugging, and keep sharing love.
There’s so much more that could be added to a piece like this: both my maternal and paternal grandparents immigrated and were never being able to ‘go back’ to share the tears and condolences with their loved ones: stories to be shared with younger generations.
Our world has become a puzzle of displaced and misplaced people: suffering loss. Many feel unsafe to share their pain in a world void of compassion.
My hope, with a prayer and reminder to the universal ‘be kind’, is to be aware of others also feeling the distance. And to keep on ‘livin’ and lovin’ til I can’t’.
Thanks for reading…
Love, Karen
A December getaway, without breaking the bank
October was a hustle: a wonderful time of family and anniversary partying. November’s schedule, planning ahead for December’s holiday season, was no less busy. But there was no questioning or negotiating with the task logged in my daytimer for November 28th. “Plan a getaway”. Soon: before the holiday season. And to make sure this plan would be executed, I flipped ahead in my best-friend Moleskine weekly notebook- journal to December 7/23 – “go away somewhere overnight – even if it’s by myself”. Factoring in Derryl’s busy work schedule, if need be I was totally okay with going solo . I booked AirBnB accommodations for Dec 7th and 8th – about two hours from home, in the Halifax-Bedford area.
Yay – Derryl was also ready for a break!
December 7th we pulled out of Dodge with overnite bags, a survival kit with coffee (and AeroPress), herbal teabags – and added some fruit, cheese, bread and red wine en route. The plan was to eat at restaurants new-to-us ; determined by reviews from the Curated Food and Drink Magazines I have been saving for “such a time as this.”
A couple work-stops for Derryl on the drive to Halifax, a.k.a. “we’re going right by, I need to pop in for just a few minutes” (which he amazingly pulled off!) and by early afternoon we were in Halifax. Lunchtime: we headed downtown to Verano Food Purveyors – a blend of Mexican-Venezualan cooking and flavours.
Yummylicious! Corn Empanadas for me. Derryl had Patacon: a traditional South American sandwich held by 2 thin crispy slices of sweet plantain – a vegetable specialty flashback from his childhood experience in the West Indies.
After a farewell chat with Verano’s hospitable family-owners, we headed to Derryl’s pick for a wee chocolate fix, Rousseau’s specialty shop. The double-dose-caffeine visit was exquisite.
Choosing a box of ten ‘delights’ to take home wasn’t easy – neither was the self control to ration them to last for a few days!
A walk on the Halifax waterfront would have been great but a nasty wind convinced us otherwise: we checked into our accommodations, reads books, enjoyed hot tea. Then off for supper to Kofuku Japanese + Thai: for me a delicious veggies with tofu in a flavourful broth. Derryl gave me a hard time about the white rice (which he adores, and knows I prefer brown) but when in Japanese restaurants, I do as they do…
Derryl’s similar hot-pot dish with lamb was delicious. As was the conversation with our server: who hails originally from China, recently moved from Vancouver to Halifax, and is hoping to soon pass her driver’s license test. Talking to, meeting people is so interesing!
After a lovely lie-in next morning; followed up with kickstart coffee and fruit, we were off for brunch. The Osney Café & Social is basically a small, intimate room within a well-seasoned building; with a doorway leading to a hallway with space for more tables, a nearby washroom, and doorways accessing other attached businesses.
I resisted peering through the kitchen window; loved the sassy sign posted on the door. Yummy food notwithstanding: we were in a funky, fun place.
Grilled mushroom and cheese melts with Americano Misto coffees hit the spot. Before leaving, curious how the restaurant got its name, Graham – one of the owners – shared the charming, romantic story. Check it out on their website. Better yet, visit the Osney and get the scoop for yourself!
Full disclosure: our “city getaway”, with its access to Big Box Stores, did include shopping. Our lists were specific, we chatted with other folks in the check-out line-ups (gratefully not ridiculously long) and we were in and out in record time. We had some daylight left and I had been missing outdoor exercise. In spite of a brisk wind and icy trail – I used trekking poles that are year-round residents in the car – we both appreciated a short loop in the Hemlock Ravine: just off the Bedford basin.
Game to try yet another ethnic cuisine, we followed through on a interview we’d seen a few weeks earlier: on CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation), Fatimah (owner/chef) from Efty Dishes had impressed us with a confident presence and enthusiasm for her West African dishes. Derryl and I thought “why not?” In a small strip-mall, we tracked down the restaurant: an unassuming room with a cooler of cold drinks, a wall adorned with wooden African animal decorations, an order counter, several tables with chairs; one of them occupied by three children sharing a game ‘on their screen’ while Mom waited for a take-out order. We had no idea what to order – for Derryl to pick up later – but Fatimah’s daughter behind the counter had suggestions for us first-time customers. Fatimah poked her head through a small opening from the kitchen to say hello – how fun to have a wee chat as energized as her interview on CBC. Such fun!
Jollof rice with barbecued chicken, and Efo Rio Soup with Beef. Very flavourful, just enough spice. The round ball is pounded yam, Derryl and I agreed that has to be an acquired taste: overall, an interesting African cuisine adventure.
Packed our bags next morning – we’d used all our coffee and tea – and before driving home went to a downtown Saturday farmer market for breakfast. Korean rolls with coffee; an excellent combination for “when at the market …..”
Wandering through the aisles I sampled hard cider, learned about and purchased a soy candle from an enthusiastic vendor, gawked at the size of cinnamon rolls people were actually buying. And bought Derryl a potato pancake; who instead of exploring was stationed at one of the few available tables with his coffee, watching and visiting.
This was the last call for our getaway. Time to get home: our ‘cuisine-cruise’ wasn’t over yet: we were joining neighbourhood friends for a Greek supper! My contribution, spanakopita, had been made and froze ahead of time but needed to be cooked.
The getaway was just what I’d hoped for: what I needed, including all the contrasting food flavours.
Today, December 23rd, as bedrooms are being readied and food preparation lists are being checked and ticked off – I am looking forward to a houseful of family. And the familiar turkey and trimmings of the holidays.
May you all have a great Christmas – I will be popping back here in 2024. As always, thank you for reading.
Love and God Bless,
Karen
Celebrating 50 years … a family weekend
Our wedding photo tells the truth: Derryl and I were mere children when we vowed “I do, I will”. Fifty years later, thinking about this ‘crazy-big-number ‘milestone, I’m excited to share a photo-story of our celebration with family, and community friends who have become our Nova Scotia family‘. Without meaningful relationships beyond ourselves, this day could never have been as rich or meaningful.
Three months prior to October 19, 2023 – the same span of time in which we planned our wedding – we emailed out invitations to “save the date, come celebrate with us!” I would plan the food – no other contenders for that. We hosted the party at the Sanctuary – the name for our home – which limited the number of guests we could squeeze in. Deciding to cook the main course food and to purchase desserts and baquettes from local bakers to round out the menu, a few days prior to the event I made a robust chili (thanks to a special friend for the recipe) and froze for reheating on party day. With my in-house helpers – a conscription of efficient family members – we added a huge coleslaw salad and cut a mountain of farm-grown carrot sticks. The above, along with the contributions of guests’ yummy salads, we had plenty of delicious food: accompanied with locally-pressed apple cider, a collection of red and white wines, a cooler with chilled drinks, coffee and tea. Half a carrot cake remains in the freezer and will be gone before Christmas – definitely not preserving it for another ‘big anniversary number’.
Full disclosure, I lost more than a few hours sleep stressing about the food, but in my years of experience with food prep and hospitality I’ve come to count on the jitters to keep me sharp! Yes, we had some glitches the morning of the party but “mum’s the word about those” – nothing too crazy that my creative, best-ever, family-team couldn’t help fix. xoxo
A party is more than bread and wine. Our daughter Renee made decorations; planned a short program which included a couple mixer games to determine who knew Derryl and Karen the best and how much did things cost in 1973; a couple music selections giving it a bona fide East Coast kitchen party feeling! She was a sounding board for my ideas and questions, mc’d the flow of the evening. Our son Brad drove from South Carolina: helping on the day of to move and rearrange furniture to seat thirty-plus people, was on call for running errands and doing behind-the-scenes stuff I’m not aware of.
“Big thanks, kids.”
A bonus to the party morning’s kitchen kaffuffle was a rehearsal for Derryl’s last minute special request to add to the planned program. Bryan Adam’s Everything I Do (I Do It For You): a duet by son Brad on the keyboard and son-in-law Damien on the electric guitar: Some of the best things – and for the performers, the scariest – are the last minute impulses! It was amazing; made my heart sing!
Our wedding attire: after fifty years lying in the cedar chest is appropriately wrinkled!
From a combined potential of ten siblings – who live in Alberta, British Columbia or Minnesota, USA – Derryl and I were honoured to welcome four of them to our celebration. Daniel Toews, Rebecca Straforelli and Ruth Vandenberg….
… and my sister Ruth Langerud (and her husband, Eldon).
Of our six young adult grandchildren, we were grateful to have one join us for the fun. Joah happened to be here working with his Papa in October. Which for him, included more than one motorbike jaunt with ‘the boss – and hanging out with the ‘old guys.’!
The night before the party was more relaxing than a wedding rehearsal! Brother-in-law Eldon and son-in law Damien jammed on the guitars they’d brought from home, some of us singing along … knitting. Pretty chill.
“Fifty years married” doesn’t easily roll off my tongue. This ‘big number’ doesn’t mentally feel like a fit for people who still do spontaneous fun things, are loyally crazy in love with each other, give space to each other’s needs for independent adventures they enjoy. A party guest asked what’s helped us stay together. Put on the spot, Derryl hesitated – and regardless of my inner writer preferring to mull over thoughts before putting them out to the world – I jumped in with something close to this. You get up every day and keep going together. Our life together has had good – often great – times; it’s also had challenges – some for extended stretches, downturns in our construction business, physical health hurdles. But we have valued our relationship, and commitment, for the long run. “I love this guy” is my bottom line. Some things I forgot to add that night, but are key for us in our hearts and mindset, we didn’t have a plan B. (Not saying that irreparable things can happen in marriage relationships.) We work things out. And we have a common rock in our union: a personal knowing and trust in the Creator-God who loves us all.
We did have a plan for children. Renee and Brad and their families are the cherished treasures of our hearts.
This is us.
Thank you for scrolling through these pics (gratitude and photo credits to family and friends for sharing their ‘takes’ on the weekend) and reading our story, one that by the grace of God, continues to unfold.
Love from Me and Mine
Karen
End-of-Summer, Photo-Visit Blitz
My late summer’s pilgrimage to western Canada was two-fold: first in British Columbia with my husband’s family, then visiting my kin in Alberta.
We travelled by air to the furthest south-west part of British Columbia – Abbotsford – for a Toews reunion: delicious in every way with good food, catch-up conversations around the tables, hilarious fun and games (think modified Family Feud), one-on-one chats, singing, walking local trails.
The weekend wrapped up with a crazy-fun, hoppin’ dance floor; speakers belting out a super play-list, to celebrate with two of the young couples who got married during the season of COVID restrictions. Such a blast – perfect way to end an awesome weekend.
Kudos to Derryl’s siblings who pulled everything together…including a brilliant memento ….”label your personal mug for the weekend, then take it home with you”. Perfect size for my morning cappuccino!
A creative practical tribute to Mom Toews (now deceased), displayed a tidbit of favourites from her kitchen when serving the wide circle of family, and their friends, around her table.
Grandpa Toews (now in his early nineties) sat on the sidelines, listening, watching the action of the ‘fruitfulness’ of eight children and their children.
Derryl flew home to Nova Scotia; I enjoyed the gift of driving to Alberta with my daughter Renee and her husband Damien.
It’s always a magnificent drive through the Rockies; another special gift was the full view of Mt Robson’s snowy peak. Often capped with clouds – and considering the whole day’s drive we’d had smokey skies from the wildfires – I felt like it was God’s personal welcome-back-west gift to us three, who currently live in Quebec and Nova Scotia.
The next day, now ‘home’ in Alberta with a contrasting but forever familiar view, I was ready to go with the flow; connecting with as many family and friends that I possibly could.
Always on my list is a wee visit with Aunt Helen – age 102 and counting. As long as you don’t drop in during her 2:00 – 4:00pm naptime, she doesn’t mind visitors just showing up: which is what my sister Ruth and I did. She’s still in her own home, with clarity of mind and memory; a God-loving woman.
Next we were off to the farm. My brother Wayne passed a year ago, yet I sensed his essence driving into the yard – and missed him opening the door and walking down the sidewalk to meet me. We’d basically invited ourselves for supper; while visiting with Wayne’s wife Linda and daughter Carmen we picked, washed and prepped veggies from Carmen’s flourishing garden. I’m sure somewhere, her Dad was smiling and saying ‘that’s my girl’!
This grounding space is home: I don’t feel like a visitor as I wander through the yard and raspberry patch; mosey about in the big trees behind the house. The golden field south of the deck is the same view I had from the kitchen window as I learned how to cook, washed and dried dishes- and where Monday through Friday Mom would be on the lookout: “grab your lunches, get up to the road, the school bus is at Falk’s!”.
Before leaving Nova Scotia I had reserved one activity : a boat ride with big brother Glen on Coal Lake, near the hamlet of Gwynne where I went to school from Grades one through eight – about 11Km (7 miles) from our farm. This lake, a water source for the hamlet was created from a dam when I was growing up – we drove past it to go practically ‘everywhere’ but it was never a destination for leisure or pleasure (likely because there wasn’t a beach for swimming and we didn’t have a boat!)
Now it’s a different story. This lake is a favourite for fishing, boating, kayaking – yet still not for swimming, for no apparent reason other than ‘nobody does it!” I enjoyed a lovely ‘cruise with coffee and cookies’, courtesy of captain Glen and his wife Lois; shared with my sis Ruth and her husband Eldon. But for the record, I have resolved I’m not visiting this beautiful, clean body of water again without taking a dip!
The following days were a busy blur, connecting with family and friends. Some connections planned, i.e. walks with friends, revisiting Wetaskiwin’s By the Lake Park , adding to the gazillion kms we’d logged running together in the past. Other visits just happened; walking downtown; a stop at the grocery store, popping into a restaurant or business where friends work, running into a former optometrist on a street corner, a driver shouting from his vehicle waiting at a stoplight- “Karen, are you lost?” It all felt like a grand community hug!
Everywhere in Wetaskiwin is within walking distance; I included ‘points of interest’ en route to my different destinations. i.e. Heritage House where our family lived for several years (had one room for bed-and-breakfast guests) when the kids were still living at home, their schools two blocks away. And MacEachern House where sister-in-law Ruth Vandenberg and I had a teahouse business for a few years. Precious memories, yes indeed.
Get togethers catching up with siblings and their families, cousins, friends: the many gifts of fellowship, food, schedules adjusted to include these fun times – all so very much appreciated. xoxo
I’ve previously posted a story about my friend Christine, a thriving stroke survivor and author of several books whose focus and ambition is to encourage and support other stroke survivors. Some years, our visits have been limited to a hello and wee chat at her door. This time was an extra gift of time with tea and koláče, her homemade Czech pastry – and as always, I came away inspired and motivated. With hope and faith and courage we can be overcomers.
A special opportunity for me was helping at a seasonal grounds’ clean-up a few kilometres from ‘the farm’ – at the Crooked Lake Church and cemetery where many deceased neighbours and community members are buried- including my parents, brother, aunts and uncles, grandparents. These work bees haven’t previously coincided with my visits home – a highlight this time, especially shared with my siblings – left to right: Lorne, Glen and Ruth.
Then. It was time for up and away to return home: ever grateful for relationships, friendships, and precious times between the hellos and good-byes.
Thank you for reading,
xo, Karen
Karen Toews 