In Loving Memory of our Dear Aunt Anna

In des Hirten Arm und Schoß, Amen ja, mein Glück ist groß!

                                                                                    -Weil ich Jesu Schäflein bin-

                    

Es hat dem Herrn über Tod und Leben gefallen, unsere liebe Schwester, Anna Waldner zu sich zu rufen.

Am 27. Oktober 2016 our Anne Basel passed away peacefully at home in Elm River, surrounded by family.

Ihr im Tode vorangegangen sind ihre Eltern, Zacharias and Anna Wald-ner: Brüder: Zacharias (in infancy), Edward, Harold, John, David, Martin and brother-in-law, Jake Maendel.
Sie hinterlässt ihre Geschwister: Asnath Maendel, Elm River; Mike (Christy), Solomon (Linda), and Joseph (Anita) of Holmfield Colony; sisters-in-law Susan, Riverdale Colony and Cheryl, Gladstone, as well as many nieces, nephews, extended family and friends.

Anna Waldner was born on June 5, 1940 at James Valley Colony, Elie, MB. In 1946 the family moved to Riverdale Colony at Gladstone, where Anna grew up and was baptized upon her confession of faith. In 1975 the family moved again, this time to the newly established Holmfield Colony at Killarney, MB.
Our lieba Anne Basel was a quiet, humble sister, who spent many years caring for ailing family members, namely her parents and her three unmarried brothers in addition to reaching out to help her married brothers and sister and their families whenever possible. When Anne Basel’s health failed, her sister-in-law, Christy, faithfully cared for her for six years.

During the past year, after a lengthy hospital stay, we knew Anne Basel would need constant care, so we, the family of her sister Asnath, offered to help and invited her to live with us at Elm River. It was not an easy decision for Anne Basel, but in time she agreed that it would be best, and embraced her new home as much as her failing health allowed. We are grateful that both Holmfield Colony and Elm River colony supported Anne Basels decision: we cherish the six months she lived with us. Our sincere thanks to the nieces who lovingly stayed with Anne Basel while she was in the hospital!

In her final days the family drew comfort in observing how Anne Basel faced death with grace, peace and quiet faith. “This world is not my home”, she reminded us. “I’m going to a better place. God can take me home whenever he chooses.” Another time she said, “Die Ankela und der Olvetter riefen mich schun.”

Geh in Frieden, liebe Anne Basel.

Die Begräbnisfeier (Leicht) fand am 30. Oktober 2016 in der Elm River Gemeinde statt. Beerdigung im Elm River Friedhof.

   The Caregiver

    Elma Maendel

 As a young Dien, she cared for her mom
Became her eyes
Kept house, brought meals
Tied shoes,
Injected insulin.

Through her Mom’s cancer diagnosis
Her care continued –
Sips of water,
Cool cloths for feverish skin
A German hymn softly sung –
During bedside vigils of
Weary days and cruel nights
Caring to the end.

Too soon Dad needed care,
Though his tall, stalwart figure never stooped,
His health steadily faded,
Still her care never faltered
Accompanying her brothers 

to dialysis appointments and
Kidney treatments
Caring, encouraging, supporting,
Preparing tasty salt-free dishes.

Finally, Anne Basel herself needed care:
Medication, dialysis, puffers, oxygen,
Tasteless gels – for swallowing ease –
Offered no relish and even less satis-faction
Family, nurses, doctors
Gently provided the Loving care
She bestowed on others.

Now our loyal caregiver –
Rests peacefully
Reunited with loved ones –
In her heavenly home
Auf Wiedersehen, lieba Anne Basel!

Danke schön für jedes stille Gebet während Anne Basels letzter Tage. Euer Dasein und euer Beistand waren Balsam auf unserer trauernden Seelen. Das Schönste ist, dass wir in dieser so traurigen Zeit, das Wunder der christlichen, brüderlichen Liebe erleben durften, 1 Petrus 3:8.

Writing Inspiration from a Photo #1

Occasionally I draw writing inspiration from photos. I don't take a whole lot of pictures, and am thinking I should take more, because some images end up being precious, and yes, inspire some writing - which is always a good thing. As we all know, when it comes to writing, the well sometimes seems strangely dry. Which is where I'm at these days, so I turned to my photos to see if anything will ignite some creative thought, or a blog post. And wouldn't you know...

This is my five-year-old nephew, Jakobi. He was playing with some trucks on our living room floor. Lately it seems he's fascinated with having his trucks hit ice and end up in the ditch. Then the tow truck has to come to the rescue. Does this type of play come from something he's watched or just the fact that he lives in Manitoba, where winters make for some treacherous driving conditions. Sometimes I tell him, "I'm tired of watching all those accidents. You need to teach those drivers how to be more careful." 

"But it's icy, Linda," he states matter-of-factly;  as if to say, it doesn't have anything to do with the drivers being careless. I should have known that.

In this photo, Jakobi had just come from playing outside, hence the cute rosy cheeks. He usually wears glasses, but they were fogged up. I love his intent look -- he must be in the process of getting that semi trailer upright. He's facing the living room window, and his face is angled perfectly for the light to fall on just part of his face.

The button he's wearing is something he got in school during I-Love-To-Read month. It reads, 'I'm a brand new reader.' He's been wearing it since I first put it on his suspenders back in February.  I think he loves that silly monkey as much as the slogan, if not more.

Does a picture ever prompt you to write? Or do you have other sources of great writing inspiration? I'd love to hear about it. I've started a 'Writing Inspiration' list. (It really helps to sometimes go to it to get some creative ideas flowing. Like today.) I'd be delighted to be able to add some new ideas to it.

Sleep or Story?

Don't you just love it when children fall asleep with a book? This is my nephew, Jakobi, in kindergarten this year. He's been falling asleep with a book in his hands for a number of years now. Here's proof. 

This picture was taken over the Christmas break. I was trying to put him down for his nap, and he kept telling me over and over, "I'm not going to sleep. I'm a big boy now and don't have to."

"Fine, big boy." I said, "So just lie down with some books for a while, and we'll have some quiet time."  Which he did, because he loves books. When I looked up from where I was reading a few minutes later he was sound asleep. When I went to put him in a more comfortable position and take off his glasses, he opened his eyes groggily, but  fell right back to sleep and slept for a few hours.

I knew trying to convince him that he does need sleep, even at five years old, it would have magically energized him and he would have stayed awake. So, I tried the 'let's just read' approach. Works every time...almost.

I've fallen asleep with books myself, but not in recent years. How about you?

The Dog Days of Summer Can be Draining...

...even for a five-year-old.

Jakobi, with his favourite truck

My nephew, Jakobi was ambling home from the communal kitchen where he had just had lunch. His lazy gait told me that the dog days of summer were having a toll on him, too.

Jakobi loves our Rock Truck and practically drools every time he sees or hears it. He's had a few rides with it and loves to talk about them as well. Any time we go for a walk, we 'just have to' go past this wonder on wheels, so he can climb on it or pose for pictures. Jakobi seems to think, Derek, one of our young men is the only one who can drive it, which makes him his hero, and his new wife, Marianna of just a few weeks "the most beautiful bride". Jakobi keeps reminding us, "Next time Derek will haul something with that truck, Marianna and I will take turns going along with him."

As he plopped down beside me on our front steps, I tried to chase away some of his sluggishness with a never-fail tactic, "Jakobi, after you've had your nap, we'll go to the broiler barn to see if they're still hauling manure. Perhaps you can get a ride with your favourite truck."

"I would just call." he mumbled listlessly.

Perhaps a nap under a cool fan will work better.

How are you dealing with the dog days of summer?

Memories to Help Celebrate Father's Day

As part of celebrating Father's Day, I thought it would be fitting to post an excerpt from Hutterite Diaries. I know Dad would be so happy with this book, and the how things have been going since its release a month ago. For the third week in a row it has been on the Winnipeg Grant Park McNally Robinson bestseller list!
  

Beautiful is the man who leaves a legacy that of shared love and life.  It is he who transfers meaning, assigns significance and conveys in his loving touch, the fine art and gentle shaping of a life. This man shall be called, Father. — Stella Payton

Another Father’s Day without dad. It has been more than ten years since he died. On days like this, when I miss him the most, I like to engage in an activity that I know now he helped cultivate and nurture: storytelling...

...On a Hutterite colony it’s very common for members to volunteer at different tasks in addition to their daily duties. I’ve been tending the flowers at the community cemetery. I love the tranquility there, especially in the evening when the sun sinks low in the western sky. It creates lace-like shadows on the soft, cool grass.

From time to time, some of the children come to help with weeding or mowing the lawn. One day it was two school boys who worked with me. One of them proved to be a good little worker; the other one, not so much. Even with all my reprimands, he was clearly not in a working mood. The ripe raspberries that kept calling him from across the road didn’t help either.

Children always ask many questions about the people resting in the cemetery and enjoy listening to stories about them, especially if the person is a relative. “These markers are stones with stories. This stone says Edward and Marvin Maendel,” I tell them. “They’re my little brothers who died in a house fire many years ago.” The boys were silent. The past touched the present for a moment.

One year, my mom, Aunt Margaret, and I were planting flowers on the graves when the German teacher stopped by. “I think you could use some help here. I’ll go round up some boys for you,” he offered.

“That should go well,” I chuckled as I watched him leave. “I wonder if he knows what he’s up against. He’ll have to break up the Hutterite Grey Cup Game .” Watching them sometimes seems like there’s almost as much at stake as in the Canadian Football League’s Grey Cup game.

Nevertheless, in a few minutes, I was pleasantly surprised when a parade of bikes headed our way. “How did you pull this off?” I queried.

“Wasn’t too difficult,” their teacher answered. “I just told them you needed help and that with so many working together, not too much precious game time would be lost.” Soon the place was bustling like a beehive. Some were planting and watering, while others were digging up around the trees and adding rich farm soil from the cow pasture. Before long the boys could return to the battle for bragging rights, with their impromptu, longer-than-usual half-time intermission behind them.

“Community action,” I mused when we were all done. It's another reminder of how invaluable multiple generations are to our communal life. In working together, tenets of our faith, values, work ethics, culture, and heritage are passed on to our children. Bridging past with present, gravestones evoke memories of those who walked before us and who call us to continue their legacy: "impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up" (Deuteronomy 6:7)

Dad, who lived by the maxim “Arbeit macht das Leben süβ” (“Work makes life sweet”), must have been smiling. Working together, three generations had transformed our cemetery, adding lovely splashes of color to the neatly trimmed carpet of grass.

Meeting Goliath

My nephews have been hearing Bible stories since they were able to sit still for a few minutes. They're surrounded by their parents, grandparents, aunts, babysitter and preschool teachers who enjoy sharing stories with them.

Terrance, our sweet little 'David'

I sometimes wonder how much these little minds are able to take in, even though they're able to retell the stories pretty well, with surprising accuracy and details. I'm amazed how they emphasize some words and get excited, just liked they'd heard the adults do. But nothing was so touching as when Jakobi and Terrance recently met 'Goliath'.

They were at another colony with their parents when one of the relatives enters the house they were visiting at. This man was big and strong and both boys looked at him wide-eyed with wonder and exclaimed in unison, "Goliath!" After the initial shock of meeting the giant, Terrance, all of three years old and usually very timid around strangers, decided he's not scared even without a slingshot and stones. Obviously this time he wanted to be brave like David,  and stepped in front of this giant of a man. Looked up at him, dead serious, and with hands on his hips declares loudly, "You think you're strong. You think I'm just a boy. You're not strong."

He probably couldn't understand why 'Goliath' and everybody else in the room thought this was hilarious. It is funny, but at the same time amazing that this little guy who never doubted that this really was Goliath and that he was brave enough to face him. He'd heard the story so many times and of course always sided with David, that now he was brave enough to take on a giant himself. Yes, dare to be a David!

Snapshot Muse # 27 - Simple Gifts

It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon as I went for a walk with my sister, cousin and nephews, Jakobi and Terrance. Of course one can never walk long distances, or get any where fast with two little boys along. There are just too many things to explore and be in awe of. Yes, things you would otherwise miss - like that seagull soaring in the sunshine, waaaay up there. And those 'tires that don't have a tractor'. I love seeing the world through the eyes of little children - everything is magical and pretty and, and, and... 

A reminder, for sure, of the importance of  'stopping to smell the roses' and to notice the simple things, that often go unnoticed.

On our walk we came across this magical place; two rows of stately poplars creating a gorgeous golden path, perfect for running and kicking up leaves, tumbling down and rolling in them. Or just lying still and marveling at the branches, leaves and sky above. A little boy's paradise.

The best song I could think of for this post is, Simple Gifts:

With Love, From Dad

Beautiful is the man who leaves a legacy that of shared love and life. 

 It is he who transfers meaning, assigns significance and conveys in his loving touch,

 the fine art and gentle shaping of a life. This man shall be called, Father.

-Stella Payton

Another Father's Day without dad. It's more than 10 years since he's been gone, and on days like this, when I miss him the most, I like to engage in an activity that I now realize, he help cultivate and nurture - the art storytelling.

I have so many wonderful memories of dad, and I know I was blessed to have him near for so many years, especially compared to others who lost their dad as young children. I was talking with a friend recently and she was telling me how hard it is for her young children, when making Father's Day cards in school - they can't decide who to give the card to and when looking for verses to write inside the card, they all are clearly written especially for dad's, and not so much for someone who is like a dad. I told her, she should encourage them to write from the heart, then they'll have words that convey exactly how they feel. But I guess, that is not always easy for children. She went on to explain, that they always end up giving one card to her, since she is both mom and dad, and one to their grandpa, who plays a special role in their life.

While planting petunias on Dad's grave this morning, I remembered how he always encouraged us to have some kind of hobby, be it crafts or collections. Once we were involved, he always found ways to nurture the interest. One day, when I was teenager, he came home from Winnipeg with a bag of wool for me. He must have overheard me say, that I'd love to have aunt Susie, master of many crafts, teach me to crochet an afghan, but don't have any wool. I'm still amazed today, how well the colours complimented each other. Who knew he had an eye for matching colours? Or perhaps there was some helpful sales lady there to assist him. One was my favourite colour, grass green and the other two were bright yellow and dark brown.

Thus, Aunt Susie had herself a student as she patiently passed on the skill of crocheting. But, to this day she claims I'm holding the hook wrong, like there's any point in reminding me of that. So, I always respond, "It doesn't seem to matter; it gets done just the same." Still, I'm sure aunt Susie is right, because I don't know of anybody else who holds the hook like I do. I should write a crochet book, and be sure to include both ways one can hold a hook, thus, ending the 'wrong way, right way' debate, once and for all.

For my afghan, I chose a common and fairly easy zigzag pattern, but it took me many weeks to finish. I admit, sometimes for days on end, I'd stay away from my new hobby, but dad kept asking how far the afghan was. Eventually it did get finished and once that day arrived, dad was as proud of it as I was. Looking back today, I understand why, more than I ever could back then: I was learning a useful craft, and spending some quality time at my grandparent's house, while aunt Susie taught me the art of crochet. I kept the afghan for many years, and when I no longer used it, mom was right there to unravel all my hard work. Like a mama on a mission, she gave the wool a new purpose - keeping many toes warm, as slippers.

In recent years, I've come to realize how much Dad impacted other past times I enjoy. Like Dad, I love to read and tell stories! While Dad told his stories, visiting with family and friends, I share mine in books, my blog and newspaper articles.

Thank you, Dad, for the timeless gift of story - it is yet another way to be close to you in spirit.

Snapshot Muse #6 - Weil Ich Jesus Schäflein Bin

For this week's snapshot muse, I can't help
but use four photos. I'm sure you totally understand why -they're all too cute to leave them off this post!! (And no, it has nothing to do with the fact that he's 'reading' one of my Hutterischa Bibl Tschichtlen, well almost nothing.)

Most of you know by now, this is my sweet nephew, Jakobi and he loves books. I caught him with this one and managed to take all four of these shots without him noticing. Must be quite the book! The photo to the right is my favourite - seems like some heavy content he has to take in. Well sure, those are Old Testament stories.


 
My song to go along with this post is, 'Weil ich Jesu Schäflein bin'. It's the first song I thought of when I started this post, and most Hutterite children learn  it at a young age. I was also pleasantly surprised to find it on You Tube. And aside from all that, no question, this little boy is a sweet, cuddly and adorable lamb.

Did I say, he's my nephew?

Snapshot Muse #5 - Eine Kleine Geige Möcht ich Haben

I always find it totally delightful when children pick up an item and turn it into something else. Not only are they having fun and sharing this with their 'audience', but unknowingly they're demostrating their creativity and vivid imagination.

Thus, the inspiration for this post came from my adorable nephew, Jakobi as he turned this colander into dad's guitar, as seen in the picture. Over the course of a few minutes it became a hat, a drum, a potty and a mask. The teacher in me can't wait till he starts school and is introduced to story writing, because he obviously already has one writing tool in place. The imaginative stories he comes up with are priceless.

After we'd taken our Christmas tree down, I asked Jakobi where it was. "I took it to the cows and they ate it up." he informed me

"Really!" I marveled. "What happened to the decorations?"

"The cows ate them, too." he said, looking for all the world like I shouldn't even have to ask.

"So do the cows now have music and twinkling lights in their belly?" I asked.

"Yes." he answered seriously.

The song that came to mind as I was watching Jakobi play 'his guitar', was Eine Kleine Geige Möcht ich Haben. Friends from Germany sent me a Heintje CD for Christmas. (Thank You, Lutz and Antje!) So, I've been able to listen to this song and many others since. I used to have a Heintje cassette, but those are slowly but surely all becoming a thing of the past. My brother sometimes asks me rather incredulously, "Why in the world are you still listening to cassettes?"

"I still have a cassette player and cassettes I enjoy and that work fine, why wouldn't I?" I'm not one to throw things out just because something new and supposedly better comes along.

Heintje with Eine Kleine Geige

My Sister - The Carpenter

Many Hutterites are involved in a wide variety of crafts, as you may have seen on this blog. (To see
some click on 'Hobbies' and 'Recycling ' in the labels.) Some of the crafts my sisters and I enjoy include, quilting, scrapbooking, crocheting, rug making, sewing, card making and painting.



My sister, Sonia takes creativity to a whole new level, where I don't even dream of going. She's not afraid to use power tools or tackle projects that require many hours of hard labour. A few years ago she built a windmill for our lawn. This year she decided to add a wishing well to our yard.

But of all the projects that she's created over the years, the most recent one has me marveling the most. She had this full sized sofa downstairs, that she figured was too long for the room it was in. Now, if that were me, I would simply replace it with a loveseat or a chair. End of story. But not Sonia, her creative juices came up with a superb plan to take the middle section out of the sofa and make a loveseat. Not making any grand announcements of this huge undertaking, all by herself she quietly...well, not so quietly, she sawed, hammered and stapled till her dream became a reality.

Yes, this loveseat was a full length sofa a few days ago. Unbelievable!

 
 
 

'I have a little Shadow'

I love watching the faces of my nephews light up with wonder as they make new discoveries in their little world. With the afternoon sunshine streaming through our kitchen window, Jakobi realized there is somebody shadowing him, which reminded me of a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson, My Shadow. As you can see Jakobi was having lots of fun playing with this somebody and trying to decide who it is. It didn't take him long though till he'd figured it out.

"Stick your chin out."

 



"As tall as I am."

"Wiggle your fingers."

 

 

 

"Like this"

 



"You still there behind me?"

 

 

 

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands."

"Well, who did you think it is?" 

Have a Lovely Day! I know I am!

I'm sure you recieved your own special Valentine's today. Here are some of mine:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bible Stories in Hutterisch

For a number of years now Hutterite children have enjoyed Bible stories in our mother tongue. Together with Dick Mueller, Wycliff Bible Translater/Linguist, I helped translate this set of books. The three that you see here have already been published, with two more coming out at some point in the future. I've heard many sweet stories from parents whose children have these books, how much time they spend with the them and the CD that comes with each one. Or older siblings reading to younger ones - all of which make the long hours spend translating very worthwhile!

 Jakobi and me

Right now I am thoroughly delighted watching my darling nephew, Jakobi listening to these stories.  Every night he brings his parents Book 1 in this series, to read to him, other times he follows along in the book, while listening to the CD. Sometimes I have to joy of reading to him as he's snuggled on my lap. His favourite Bible story is Noah and the Ark. One day he was playing on the floor, placing animals in a bowl. When his mom asked what he was doing he replied, "Oah Ochn." (Noah's Ark) He's just starting to talk and some of his beginning consonants are always missing. So you can imagine how many chuckles we have as he's trying to articulate things, which we sometimes have a hard time deciphering.

At snack one day, his mom, Karen gave him a candy with Santa wrapping. He took one look and announced, "Mein, der Oah!" (My, Noah) He's never heard of Santa, but knows Noah quite well. In all the time spent with this book, nobody ever told him that I am the one narrating the stories. So, one evening while listening he exclaims, "Mama, Linda zellt." (Mama, Linda's telling the story.)

A few days ago I was babysitting, I noticed that he was talking to himself, while stacking blocks on the floor. I listened closer and he said, "Huchn Turm. Aufn, aufn, aufn, Hibbi.)" (High tower, up, up, up to heaven.) Just as he'd heard it many times from his book. Not only is he learning Bible stories, but building his Hutterisch vocabulary, with practically the only books he'll be able to do this with!

Jakobi, fast asleep with his favourite book.

A clip of mommy reading, with Jakobi chiming in, click here.

 

 

If there's a Hutterite child in your life, Bible stories in the language they know best would be an ideal and special Christmas gift. The books are available at HB Book Centre.