Catching a bird in flight!
By the way - our delightful birds, who entertain us are quite messy eaters, something you will notice if you come to visit.
Smiley for today:
What do you call a hippie's wife? A Mississippi!
My story continues.....
(By the way I do welcome any additional insights, details and corrections. Thank you. )
********
I was very happy working for Camp Arnes. I really was, but - and there was a "but." Even though Camp Arnes was known for its ability to support their staff financially, it wasn't enough to support my family of three children.
Not wanting to distract me from my ministry, my wife thought it was her turn now to step up to the plate and shoulder some of the financial responsibility!
However, she had been conditioned - as many young mother’s were at the time - that a good mother was a “stay at home” mother. Even though mothering didn’t come naturally to Wilma, her children were very precious to her so she was determined to stay at home to raise her children to be the best they could be.
Her views changed when some of her wealthier friends who had had the luxury of staying at home and devoting themselves entirely to their children – had not been successful. In fact, many of these children were turning out to be young offenders.
Then she realized that there are no guarantees when it comes to children. But even though parents might not determine a child's future, they did have a responsibility to make sure the children were fed, dressed and well educated. To do this she needed to go back to work to support me in my dreams as well as her children's dreams.
She wondered if she could do this as a writer.... Over the years she had always pursued her interest in writing on the side - script writing and freelance writing for the local newspapers. She had in fact developed quite a resume as a freelancer - which doesn't pay all that well.
Now she set her sights on a course, "Creative Communication" at Red River Community College that had a great reputation for turning out marketable and trained journalists. She found funding and grants that would help her take it and submitted her resume. It was a two-year course known as a "boot camp" training for journalists. When she applied many of the teachers were skeptical that she would be able to juggle three children plus the deadlines and demands of the course, but since her resume was so compelling, they had no excuse but to admit her.
We discovered that the course was indeed a boot camp which forced us to reorganize our home into a boot camp, highly organized and disciplined. Actually Camp Arnes was also a boot camp of sorts as well. There were high expectations on all levels.
I thought the stress of "boot camping" it on three levels, might destroy our family but I think we all thrived. We had a goal! We were working hard together! We worked hard and played hard!
Candace, now a pre-teen - was emerging as a very capable young woman. With her sanguine personality, she was a natural caregiver of the two younger ones Odia, seven, and Syras, one years old. She naturally stepped into her role as second mother.
So we were on a two-year voyage, the "boot camping" boat was solid, the direction set and the far beach was in sight. Plus, the crew loved being together, and worked well together. We were very optimistic - we could do this! And we did.
In fact the two years flew by. When Wilma graduated, she began working by taking contract work - but this time paid well. It looked promising. The money was starting to roll in which meant we now had the money to enroll Candace in a private school because she had some of the same learning challenges I had as a kid.
We were two of a kind actually - so I was eager to help her. I found that if I tutored her in the evening, her marks improved remarkably. We were bonding in a new way.
Like socks....she loved my white socks stored in my top dresser drawer - (apparently they were whiter) and was always stealing them even though she had her own. It was a fun contest, an indication of who she was and who I was.
As a family we had never been happier. We loved Winnipeg, loved being together as a family. I loved my job – Wilma loved her writing projects. We were attending the nearby flourishing River East MB Church which had a wonderful teaching ministry.
For the first time- we felt confident we were on the path God had set out for us.
And then....
By the way - our delightful birds, who entertain us are quite messy eaters, something you will notice if you come to visit.
Smiley for today:
What do you call a hippie's wife? A Mississippi!
My story continues.....
(By the way I do welcome any additional insights, details and corrections. Thank you. )
********
I was very happy working for Camp Arnes. I really was, but - and there was a "but." Even though Camp Arnes was known for its ability to support their staff financially, it wasn't enough to support my family of three children.
Not wanting to distract me from my ministry, my wife thought it was her turn now to step up to the plate and shoulder some of the financial responsibility!
However, she had been conditioned - as many young mother’s were at the time - that a good mother was a “stay at home” mother. Even though mothering didn’t come naturally to Wilma, her children were very precious to her so she was determined to stay at home to raise her children to be the best they could be.
Her views changed when some of her wealthier friends who had had the luxury of staying at home and devoting themselves entirely to their children – had not been successful. In fact, many of these children were turning out to be young offenders.
Then she realized that there are no guarantees when it comes to children. But even though parents might not determine a child's future, they did have a responsibility to make sure the children were fed, dressed and well educated. To do this she needed to go back to work to support me in my dreams as well as her children's dreams.
She wondered if she could do this as a writer.... Over the years she had always pursued her interest in writing on the side - script writing and freelance writing for the local newspapers. She had in fact developed quite a resume as a freelancer - which doesn't pay all that well.
Now she set her sights on a course, "Creative Communication" at Red River Community College that had a great reputation for turning out marketable and trained journalists. She found funding and grants that would help her take it and submitted her resume. It was a two-year course known as a "boot camp" training for journalists. When she applied many of the teachers were skeptical that she would be able to juggle three children plus the deadlines and demands of the course, but since her resume was so compelling, they had no excuse but to admit her.
We discovered that the course was indeed a boot camp which forced us to reorganize our home into a boot camp, highly organized and disciplined. Actually Camp Arnes was also a boot camp of sorts as well. There were high expectations on all levels.
I thought the stress of "boot camping" it on three levels, might destroy our family but I think we all thrived. We had a goal! We were working hard together! We worked hard and played hard!
Candace, now a pre-teen - was emerging as a very capable young woman. With her sanguine personality, she was a natural caregiver of the two younger ones Odia, seven, and Syras, one years old. She naturally stepped into her role as second mother.
So we were on a two-year voyage, the "boot camping" boat was solid, the direction set and the far beach was in sight. Plus, the crew loved being together, and worked well together. We were very optimistic - we could do this! And we did.
In fact the two years flew by. When Wilma graduated, she began working by taking contract work - but this time paid well. It looked promising. The money was starting to roll in which meant we now had the money to enroll Candace in a private school because she had some of the same learning challenges I had as a kid.
We were two of a kind actually - so I was eager to help her. I found that if I tutored her in the evening, her marks improved remarkably. We were bonding in a new way.
Like socks....she loved my white socks stored in my top dresser drawer - (apparently they were whiter) and was always stealing them even though she had her own. It was a fun contest, an indication of who she was and who I was.
As a family we had never been happier. We loved Winnipeg, loved being together as a family. I loved my job – Wilma loved her writing projects. We were attending the nearby flourishing River East MB Church which had a wonderful teaching ministry.
For the first time- we felt confident we were on the path God had set out for us.
And then....
"There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere,
and many of us will have to pass
through the valley of the shadow of death again and again
before we reach the mountaintop of our desires."
- Nelson Mandela
and many of us will have to pass
through the valley of the shadow of death again and again
before we reach the mountaintop of our desires."
- Nelson Mandela
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