Seeing Red

Every year the kids go on a Christmas shopping spree at Walmart… sometimes using our own money to buy us gifts. Seems counter-active, I know, but whatever. Usually we end up with something they want. This year, as I was releasing them to the abyss of the super centre, I pointed out the Christmas boxes of amaryllises. Those seasonal bulbs all contained in a little kit, stacked up eyeball level high in the aisle next to the check outs. ”Mom might like one of these” I suggested, with a wink and a nod. It was a cheap gift — and so there it was Christmas morning.

Excited, that my own money was actually used to purchase something I wanted, I plunged the sad looking bulb into its pot and emptied the bagged soil; lovingly tucking it in with hopes it might do something. I watered it through the season and all of a sudden it sprang to life one day! Not one, but two beautiful blooms! A deep, Christmas red with even darker, wine coloured highlights. It made me smile. I’m not sure how long it will last, but the flower made me happy in the dark of wintery January. Now that February has rolled around, flowers, hearts and the colour red has come forward once more. And it has me musing again.

February is my “blog-aversary” and it has been a long journey, this mittonmusings.com. I haven’t gone viral, I barely have a couple hundred followers, and as much as some of my writing has improved, we plod onward with little recognition. That’s okay. Perhaps it’s as much of a journal for me as it is a quick read for my beloved readers. Back to red. I’m reminded of our colouring party… which seems like barely a blink ago, but we explored the symbolism in the Bible of colours way back in 2020!! I invite you to go back and dive in. The post about red is here. I must say, I was on fire then… lots of research went into that endeavour. Huh. Maybe I should host another “theme” series. Whattya think? Perhaps I’ll do a post over on Instagram to see what ya’ll might like.

This week the “red” was thick and dark for me. As an introvert, adjusting to a new city has been difficult for me. I’m trying to do my best to be friendly and courteous, but it’s been really tough to cut through that thick skin of well established groups and culture of “small town”. My heart has been slashed a few times and I’m trying to keep from bleeding out. I’ve been trying to mull it over in my mind. Trying to dig deeper. Think. 

A friend (a good friend with whom I have history with) made it simple. All of us are broken. Some of us must balance our own need for connection with the brokenness of others. Until we are able to level the playing field and realize we are all in the same boat, it’s difficult to build bridges. We need to have shared experiences to connect. Only when we break through the surface do we all bleed red. Which is kind of cool to think that in Christian circles, we talk about how Jesus’ blood covers our sins and cleanses us. Bloodshed allows us to be all put on the same playing field. It was necessary. Sacrifice is required. Deep and painful and rich. Like the colour of red I’ve been seeing this week on my windowsill. Oh, God is good at visual reminders!

My blooming reminder!

So, my little quip this week is not full of research and facts, but more of a journal-to-myself-with -an-audience-on-the-internet post. Seeing red is not always angry. Perhaps, it may mean the exact opposite. Thanks, kids, for the gift that keeps on giving.

Happy New Year

No official post today but here are a few things that will hopefully be coming your way in the new year:

  • 2024’s word of the year
  • More adventures on #itsnottafarm
  • Book reviews
  • Musings
  • Inspiration for our spiritual journeys
  • Encouraging thoughts

Building Blocks

Greetings my friends! I’m still here! We’re packing, purging, and getting our current house ready to list. All the while I’m beginning to dream about the “farm”. I’ll be too late to plant the garden this year but will take on the pond this summer. And learning to appreciate sunsets from my wraparound porch. Still, my brain is currently occupied with boxes and shelving and storage and … stuff. I have way too many books. And crafting projects. And paper notebooks. However. The current bane of my existence is LEGO. Read about my first experiences here. I hate to say it but not much has changed since that post oh so long ago. In fact, it’s kinda funny that Lego was involved in blog changes then… and blog (okay whole life!) changes now.

Okay. So let’s recap the muse about Lego again. Denmark, 1916. Woodworker named Ole Kirk Christiansen is known as the “creator” of Lego. His original shop was building houses and furniture but the Great Depression caused the crew to focus on smaller projects like wooden toys. The term “Lego” is loosely translated to Danish for “play well” leg godt. In Latin “I put together”. The name stuck.

Photo by Rick Mason via unsplash

Fast forward through some tweaking and brick adjustment, and by 1958-60’s Ole’s son, Godfried had taken over the family business and began the big switch to plastic bricks over wooden ones. I was shocked to know that Lego Canada wasn’t fully established until the late 1980s. The bricks had made their way to North America sometime before, but Canada didn’t have its own branch until then. My childhood. I must be old. Now, of course, we have Lego amusement parks, online clubs, T.V.’s Lego Masters etc. etc. And no age limit to builders. AFOL is a thing: Adult Fans Of Lego. My grown son is one.

In fact, the whole house is filled with Lego maniacs. Someone inevitably receives a box at Christmas. During the pandemic, weeks were spent building Hogwarts giant castle complete with minifigures and moving staircases. And so the conundrum of moving it all. No one is willing to part with it (even though I hear you can fetch $60 a kilo for the loose bricks). I have a large, I’m talking knee-deep, bin full of loose bits and bobs and teeny tiny pieces I painstakingly sorted from various shelves and jars. I’m still finding random bricks here and there. I was chastised for not keeping the kits together… but what’s a mom to do when there are sooo many? Plus I have built kits collecting dust on shelves. Any hints? At this point, I am open to all and every suggestion. Message me. Please.

I suppose I cannot complain. We have been blessed with the resources to give such creative projects to our kids (those kits aren’t cheap… even second-hand!) And I am thankful that this hobby is one the whole family can participate in. Skills are required and bricks are boredom-busting… at least for a little bit of time! I love Christmas afternoon. The little baggies are all over the dining room table and heads are bowed in brick worship and concentration of builder booklets. Even our girls.

So my muse takes me to Ole Christiansen again. Could he have built my soon-to-be new-to-me-century farmhouse back in 1900? Would he know his toy would become a worldwide phenomenon? Will I ever find a solution for how to pack, sort, and store all those tiny bricks? I need perspective. Hebrews 3:4 says:

 For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything.

I must remember that houses, Lego bricks, dishes, books and treasures I find are human things. Made by some factory and shipped from Amazon. Even the precious ones are created with human hands. God is the builder of our relationships. Our connections and our friendships. Our families. He orchestrates the timing in our lives of who arrives and who leaves our blips in time… and the whys of when they are there. I’m glad you all are out there. Connected to me in a weird way through my words on a page. I may not know you… and I may know you well. Your purpose in being here is real. I’m glad. And if you have an idea on how to organize Lego for moving: I’m very glad! Message me!