Since moving to New Brunswick last year, its rugged natural beauty has transformed me back into an outdoorsy woman.
Living near the ocean and seemingly endless hiking trails has offered an escape from the isolation that COVID (at times) represents. And being a part of our grandchildren's bubble has blessed Derick and I immensely.
I am not sure if it's the similar terrain, the ocean air, or the familiar culture, but whatever it is, it often triggers the floodgates of memory, transporting me back to the Newfoundland of my youth. It's incredible how life looks once our heart is healed because it allows us to gaze through a prism, once clouded by negativity.
Growing up in the 60s and 70s, with my eight sisters and five brothers, in a secluded village along the rugged coast of Newfoundland, definitely had its share of hardships. But life was much simpler back then. We'd the freedom to explore, take on new adventures, and allow our imaginations to run wild.
I was the second oldest girl of fourteen children. Perhaps that's why I became somewhat of a mother hen to my younger siblings, for a brief moment in time, anyway.
In the summer months, somewhere around the age of ten or eleven, with lunch bag in hand, I'd take on the responsibility of trekking through the woods en route to what was called "Blue Rock," a secluded swimming hole area.
Time wasn't of the essence. The only stipulation was we'd return home before supper. I guess some would consider it neglect by today's standards; however, we grew up faster in those days, often out of necessity. Besides, there were other families at the swimming hole, and we all kinda looked out for one another.
My husband definitely took on more responsibility back in his growing-up days as well. At eleven years old, he and his thirteen-year-old brother not only learned how to build their own lobster traps but awoke at four am, headed out on the Atlantic ocean, by themselves, in some pretty rough conditions at times, I might add. And after they had hauled their traps, they would return home in time for school.
Derick looks back with fond memories and appreciates how it helped mold his adult work ethic. But can you imagine allowing your young boys to do such a thing now?
The wintertime of my childhood was indeed cold and often snow ladened. But we still managed to make the outdoors exciting and fun. After all, there were no electronic devices to distract us in those days.
A couple of winter escapades stand out to me. One was when Dad replaced Mom's old vinyl flooring in our kitchen/living room with contemporary black and white tiles.
Now, you had to know my mother. She was adamant about having her floors waxed every Saturday, so you can imagine the wax build-up on that old flooring.
I am not sure who or what spurred us to pull that old vinyl out of the garbage and use it for crazy carpets, but it sure made for one fast ride down over a steep hill near our house. Not to mention how the lack of cushion (I can still hear our infectious laughter now) left us in a fit of screaming, "Oh my butt, oh my butt hurts so bad!!" Yet, we'd continue to do it for hours!
Another spontaneous makeshift sleigh adventure was when my brothers disconnected the hood from an old car. We'd all jump on it, and with one big push, we'd fly down over the hill and out onto the frozen harbor. The only problem was we had to drag that heavy car-hood back up the hill again. And while there were many whines and grunts and groans, we did it anyway, for the thrill of the ride, if nothing else.
On a more serious note, I look at the modern and diverse school system my grandchildren are enrolled in today — with its no-touch and anti-bullying policies — and I can't help but remember the distinct contrast of my school years.
The community schools in rural Newfoundland were religiously denominational back then.
For instance, in some protestant towns, like my husbands, there might have been a few small schools, each run by a different church.
On the other hand, my hometown was entirely Catholic. Therefore, my school experience was embedded in a strict Catholic school system.
The classroom's disciplinary nature was something some of my older siblings and I were exposed to. Two scenes come vividly to mind: 1) Standing in a corner with book(s) on our hands. 2) Being punished with a leather strap. Both were frightening and humiliating and weren't a positive learning experience for me.
But all our experiences, both good and bad, mold us into the people we become. We can either allow the negative ones to control us, or we can allow our spirit to heal and become a beacon of light for others.
It's been a challenging year. Last Easter, we were heading into the thick of the pandemic. And now here we are with another Easter upon us, with some hope in sight, no doubt.
I don't know about you, but as I celebrate Jesus this Easter, the Risen Light, I want it to be a reminder of how His light shone through those dark and difficult days, a light that continues to extend His gift of grace and hope to our world.
