Posts by Trinda Jocelyn
Sing
Jennifer Wallace Those who know me know that I love to sing. It is no secret. From a young age, I tried to emulate my mom by singing whatever line in a song she was singing in church. I sang along with the radio. I eagerly joined choirs, auditioned for musicals and singing groups whenever the opportunity arose. I still love to sing. I cannot help but want to join in when I see the African’s Children Choir in performance. I feel the same way watching YouTube videos of senior citizen choirs. How good it is to be united in…
Read MoreMy Path
Natasha Coroluick I never know where to start when telling my story. Everyone I talk to tells me to “start from the beginning”. Is that meaning to start with, “I was born on a chilly November day twenty-nine years ago.”? Or is it the beginning of where my life began on its path? I suppose I will start where it’s relevant. Twenty years ago I was new to small town living. My grandmother had passed away in the summer of ’95 and we moved into her home in Avonlea, SK. I remember our mom telling my sister and me that…
Read MoreHow to Pack for a God Adventure
Janelle Ross You know how you are cleaning the refrigerator because your three-year old turned that irresistibly fancy dial to OFF and all the food went stinky and because you’re already cleaning a mess you pull out the stove too and wash the floor and then the wall behind the stove because yuck and before you know it you are ordering new carpet and looking at paint samples? No? Just me? I’m writing this in the midst of a big move, in the midst of a big mess, in the midst of big feelings and big change and big long…
Read MoreAs Long as the Grass Grows: A Treaty Song from Saskatchewan
Sheena Koops, Settler Descendant As long as the grass grows, as long as the sun shines As long as the river flows, through this heart of mine As long as the grass grows, as long as the sun shines As long as the river flows, through this land of mine They are living documents, First Peoples’ and the Crowns’ Building blocks of Canada, to which we are bound Sacred agreements, the pipe and the pen Brother to brother; peace, good-order to men As long as the grass grows, as long as the sun shines As long as the river flows,…
Read MoreFeel
Trinda Jocelyn The last real memory I have of my dad was the day that he left Quill Lake. He came to my school to say good-bye. He was in an old, red, late 70’s Ford truck. I was thirteen; I don’t remember the exchange of words, more the exchange of feeling. The bitter sadness ran through me as he hugged me through that truck window: this would be one of the last times in my entire life. Then he rolled up the window, put his eyes forward, and drove away; I was left to go back into the school…
Read MoreHome from Retreat
Vivian Dunn We are home from Moose Jaw and the experience of “Encouraging One Another”. I am going to share with you on one of the subjects spoken about: reaching out to immigrants. When I lost my husband to cancer and I was sitting in my suite like a “basket case”, I prayed to God and asked him to help me find someone to help, so I could get my mind off of “Vivian”. God answered my prayer and my first immigrant friend was a young Mexican boy who found out I had been a teacher and knocked on my…
Read MoreTo Be Okay in My Heart
Sheena Koops My hands are in the hot, soapy water; I can smell the orange fragrant bubbles, but my forehead is like a clenched fist and I swish each glass as fast as I can. I remember attending a mindfulness meeting and the facilitator said that washing dishes can be done mindfully. I breathe deeply, slowly into my belly. My tight temples relax. One more breathe in and I see that the bubbles are white and beautiful. One more breathe, seeking peace, but I just can’t slow my hands down, and pretty soon I’m thinking about the turkey soup I…
Read MoreA Little Girl’s Lament
Andrea Muirhead When I was little, I wrote a poem entitled “Why Me”. The poem was basically me complaining to God about my childish struggles. It was kind of cute, now that I think about it asan adult, but it didn’t feel cute then, and it doesn’t now when I still find myself talking to God this way. Why am I single? Why am I a plus-sized girl? Why don’t I feel more successful at my job? If you are also asking God, “Why me” about something in your life, you are not alone. Twice today, I have found myself…
Read MoreOld Pages
Sara Pippus Anticipation hung next to the weather-worn tools in the back porch and chased her all morning as she waited on the fresh heat of spring to fill the yard. By noon, she could not wait any longer. Jill ran down the back steps, gathering her gloves as she went, and out into the blue and green swirling hues of the large back garden. Fear, mixed with joy, sat at the edges of her gentle brown eyes. She could almost hear her grandmother’s voice as the soft breeze brushed past her pale cheeks. This year, though, could be nothing…
Read MoreFrom the Village
Over the holidays, we played numerous board games. We put puzzles together. We skated. We tobogganed. We read books. We ate good food. We stayed up. We slept in. We sang songs and my son made some up. We laughed. The kids cried a little. We shopped a little and a lot. We wrapped gifts. We unwrapped gifts. We hugged. We decorated. I reflected. Now, as I am contemplating heading back to work and a return to our regular programming, I am a little hesitant. It is not that I do not love our daily living. I like that our…
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