My mother had no training in looking after children. Only a Dr. Spock book and a few friends she could go to for advice. Except she’d have trouble doing that. So when I was little, and testing the boundaries, she struggled to make me do as I was told.
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When my mother and I went through her belongings, we discovered a couple of keepsake boxes with things that had belonged to my dad’s parents. Including several very old Christmas cards. I thought I’d share one of them with you.This one is probably my favourite.In case you have difficulty reading it, the verse says,Across the
It’s easy to forget that the God we celebrate at Christmas is more creative than any of us can imagine. After all, it was the Creator who dreamed up butterflies, hedgehogs, zebras, and macaws. Not to mention the Northern Lights, oysters, peacocks, and snowflakes. So why aren’t God’s children celebrated for their creativity?
He was 26, a quiet country boy with only grade 8, still living with his very religious mother and working at a job he didn’t like. She was 27, a thoroughly modern girl who’d left home at 16 to work at Eaton’s, and loved to be out dancing. But it was love at first sight for these two very different people.
It’s so easy to forget, in 2019, that only 100 years ago, life was very different. And that 150 years ago, many immigrants, many from Ireland, were building homes in Canada, creating communities, clearing farmland, and building cabins, and then houses, in which to live and raise their families. My paternal grandparents were two of those people.
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