We have been working on a home renovation - week 6.
I carry down various tools, scraps of packaging, rags and buckets with the hope that these items are no longer needed.  Or back up to our bedroom and ensuite bathroom they will go!
It all started with Walter's desire for a shower in our ensuite.  The house was built with only a toilet and sink and built in shelves.  With a few adjustments to the configuration of the bathroom, we could include a tiled shower.
Well, in order to make this shower worth the while, we needed to take out our closet and the hall linen closet.  Then the old bathtub/shower enclosure in our main bathroom could be moved into that former closet space and increase the available space for our ensuite shower project.
This of course, led us to steal space from Daniel's recently vacated bedroom (he just moved out to a house/sharing rental arrangement with buddies).  Might as well make his entire room into a walk-in closet and expand our bedroom square footage.
So out came a wall and gone is Daniel's former bedroom door.  New flooring needed to be installed, stipled ceiling scraped and "Pecan Sandie" paint applied to the walls!
Just as the main bathroom was being finished and our bedroom reorganized, we could turn our attention to the ensuite.  Back where we started...
Today, I stand in front of a beautiful tiled shower, complete with built in bench, shelves and a shower system rivaling a "Star Trek" control panel!  As Walter puts on the finishing touches to the glass shower door, I am eagerly hauling out the unnecessary objects and bags of garbage to speed the process to its long-awaited end!
I must say, after 6 weeks of devotion to this project, it looks clean and shiny and beautiful.
Unfortunately, we don't look quite so bright and new!  I think we are both played out after doing most of the designing, engineering and grunt work ourselves ~ except for hiring a very skilled young man to tape & mud for us; best decision we ever made!
If Walter dares to mention those fateful words, "Honey, what do you think of this idea?"...I may have to book a ticket to a far away destination where no one will have any renovation suggestions!

Easter Monday...
We were up and loading our car with luggage and a very special and beloved passenger, Gisela. On our way to the airport, my mind drifted back to my first encounter with this woman who is now a dear friend and sister in the Lord!
Almost nine years ago, I remember welcoming Gisela, an evangelical sister from Germany, into our home to stay an undetermined number of days.  We were in the midst of a fence-painting project this August day, so Gisela changed into an older shirt and grabbed a paint brush.  Her English was very good, but her accent and sentence structure caused us to smile with amusement once in a while!  Gisela insisted on speaking only English so she could learn the language better.
At the time, our kids would have been aged 14, 13 and 11.  They were loud, active and normal.  I wondered how this single lady in her late 50's, would adjust to our crazy home life while also adjusting to Canadian culture and then First Nations ministry.  I needn't have worried. Gisela served wherever she went and in whatever ways God could use her.
I had made a basic spaghetti and meat sauce meal with salad one evening for supper to help her learn some cooking skills.  She would be living in her own apartment for the first time since she was 21 and committed her life to the "Motherhouse", living in a convent-style accommodation and taking all her meals communally.  She knew how to prepare foods but not plan a meal without a specific recipe.  She watched and helped.
The next day we began to search the newspaper for apartments to rent.  We pursued a couple places but nothing was appropriate for a single woman in the price range we were looking for.  She was specific in some details: nice landscape nearby for prayer walks, a balcony, one bedroom in a secure building not on the ground floor...I was doubtful she would find something that suited her needs and wants and began to accept that Gisela would be staying in our basement for at least a couple weeks, maybe a month depending on rental availability.  It was nearing the last of the month.
After prayer on her own and with our family, Gisela and I set out to a Boardwalk apartment advertised in a reasonable area of Regina.  We got to the rental office for the meeting and after a quick tour, Gisela was shaking her head "no".  The manager suggested another of the Boardwalk properties that had a one-bedroom but the rent seemed a bit high.  We thought we would pursue it anyway as nothing else seemed to be opening up.
We drove to the north end of the city, pulled into the parking lot marked for visitors, and entered this office.  The other manager had called ahead so we were expected there.  After a brief chat, we were led up to the third floor to an empty apartment.  Almost immediately, Gisela began to exclaim about the lovely large window to the south that face onto a creek and park area.  She could have cared less about the kitchen, bedroom and bathroom as she asked to step out onto the balcony and take a look. Smiling ear to ear, blue eyes sparkling and German-laced joyful exclamations said it all!
God had provided for Gisela's needs to a "T".  The bright apartment even had a corner fireplace and laundry facility right next door.  The rent was a bit higher than expected, but she qualified for a low income subsidy that enabled her to live her entire nine-year experience in Canada in this very apartment suite.  And so began my journey with Gisela and her faith walk with her Father.
I have learned so much from Gisela.  Her commitment to prayer.  Her journey to find healing from a troubled past as a survivor of war trauma, family alcoholism and abuse.  Her willingness in her 60's to learn a new culture, embrace new ministry styles and receive the "healing touch of Jesus" upon the wounds of her heart.  Her servant-spirit to offer her hands and heart for the often dirty work of the ministry.  Her openness to the teasing of First Nations' humour and learning to dish it out!  Her kind and gentle words to me when I have been hurting personally.
We turned into the airport entrance and slowed to enter the parking area.  I had barely heard Gisela chatting with Walter as I wandered my own  memory lane, Too soon, we were lifting her luggage out and pulling them on little wheels into the airport.  The others from our ministry team were just pulling up and we all accompanied Gisela to the Air Canada kiosk.  While she checked her bags and received her boarding passes, we all made small talk.  Then she joined us in a circle and we said our last good-byes.  Hugs and simple words.  Not much to say and yet so much to say.  Walter led in a prayer for her safety and blessing on the new adventure Gisela was on as a freshly commissioned "Healing Hearts Ministry" to share what she has learned in Canada with her home culture.
A few tears glistened as Gisela gestured how she felt God was cradling her in His hands and she felt a sense of completion and peace that her time in Canada was done.  Thank You, Father!
As I write, she will be almost to Toronto, where she has a couple hours before boarding the cross-Atlantic flight for Frankfurt, Germany.  Nine hours later and then a final leg to Stuttgart, where she will immediately go to her new home, a private suite in a small retirement building for sisters.
Her life will change drastically, from the life she knew in Germany before, and now her new perspectives and freer schedule of retirement.
As Gisela can testify, God has gone before her every step of her journey.  He is the same God here and there.  Her Healing Hearts family will look forward to updates on how she will continue to serve her Lord.

Easter Greetings!
I am feeling both joy and sorrow.
Easter weekend always evokes this in me.
The Holy Week starts with jubilation as Jesus rides in to Jerusalem on a donkey.  Crowds gather to celebrate the King with shouts and songs and palm branches!
Over the next days, Jesus gives the most meaningful teachings, speaking to crowds and to His own disciples with an urgency of one who knew His days were numbered.
I was reading the account of Mark's Gospel, being reminded of the betrayal, abandonment, mocking and utter abuse of every kind that Jesus endured.  Culminating in Good Friday...another oxymoron in terms.  Good for us, horrible for our gentle Saviour.
Now today is the day of waiting...the Jewish Sabbath when the followers of Jesus honoured God while knowing a funeral was coming.  Mixed emotions for them, too.
I also know the end of the story!  I have to set aside the joy to meditate on Christ's sorrow and sacrifice.  But can't wait for Sunday morning ~ He will be risen, alive, gone from that tomb!
I feel both joy at having my family all home for Easter weekend.
I feel some sorrow at missing my Dad again...another family gathering without him.
But my comfort is in my Lord and Saviour...He also knows the human emotions of pleasure and sadness, celebrations and grief.
Today we will have our family Easter meal and tomorrow our church family celebration.  I am so blessed and want to give my heart fully to the experiences and emotions of this holy season!
Time to get cooking and prepare for the family dinner and all that entails...

DAY 9

Yawn!  Stretch!  We had slept in a little and this felt wonderful!  Now we needed to get moving, as we had about a 45 minute drive to the Gila River Indian Reservation for Sunday School at 10 am.  We dressed much like for our own worship service back home-jeans, polo shirt/capris and nice top.  Following the brief directions from the pastor’s wife, who are also staff at the Southwest Indian Ministries Center, we were actually the first ones to arrive at the church.

Rather than wait in the parking lot for others to arrive, we decided to drive around the reservation a little.  We drove further south on the main road and turned right onto paved roads.  The housing was similar to Canadian First Nations’ housing:  nearly identical frame houses.  The main differences were that Arizona homes rarely have basements (slab foundations) and they all have an attached carport.  The houses in this village area were fenced, some had a dog sleeping in the morning sunshine, and most had furniture and toys in the yards.  We saw one or two that were boarded up and abandoned.  Because the roads were paved, this neighbourhood looked more urban than reserve-like.

We headed back and again saw the church parking lot empty.  So we wandered up by the casino, which was right on the line where the town of Laveen and the Gila River Rez bordered each other.  The beautifully paved, winding roadway was lined with cactus plants and palm trees and a neatly groomed boulevard separated the two lanes.  After nearly two miles, we arrived at a vast parking lot with signs indicating shaded parking in a parkade.  It was early on a Sunday morning, so things were quiet at the casino.  We turned around, thinking it was nearly 10 o’clock, and figured the pastor and his wife would be there by now.

Just as we turned in to the Siloam Indian Baptist Church graveled parking lot, Steve and Debbie were hauling items into the church building.  They smiled and greeted us.  Debbie had chatted with us the day or two before and remembered we thought we would join them for worship.  But she hadn’t mentioned it to her husband.  So Pastor Steve shook our hands and said, “Now , I know you look familiar and I should know you from somewhere…”  We laughed and explained who we were and we followed Steve into the church. 

It was a slab building, cool on the inside with stucco walls.  The modern chairs were set out in rows.  Native print curtains covered the windows.  What struck me was the magenta/deep lilac concrete floor!  It suited the southwest environment and was certainly more appealing than our standard grey painted floors.  We chatted briefly with the Cartwrights as they set up and then a few people came in. 

Only half a dozen adults were there for Sunday School and about that many kids went in a back room with a set of parents who taught the children.  The church van was broken down so not as many children were there this particular Sunday.  We sat scattered about the sanctuary, while an older Native woman seated herself on a stool behind a music stand and arranged her book and papers.

Someone opened in prayer and Priscilla began reading the lesson.  It was on the Prodigal Son, but she emphasized that it was also about the Older Son.  They both had issues.  The real heart of the story is about the Father’s love and willingness to receive His loved ones when they return.  Priscilla shared some thoughts and examples from her own life and the community around them. Several in the class took turns reading the Scripture from the lesson book.   A couple people came in the doors for the worship service and soon Priscilla closed the Sunday School lesson.  The service would start shortly after the Sunday School.  We got up from our seats and greeted people, shaking hands much like the Cree or Saulteaux would do back home.

Three men arranged themselves in chairs at the front of the church, with guitars and music stands.  Pastor Steve was one of the guitarists. Priscilla sat with them holding a gourd shaker instrument.  The gentleman who had taught the kids’ Sunday School class stood at the podium and welcomed everyone.  By this time, one of the women had handed out song books to about 20 or 25 people who were now seated in the congregation.

Everyone sat as we sang two old familiar hymns.  Then Mike gave the announcements and a few others piped up with announcements of their own for the week.  One of the boys passed around a Native woven basket to take up the offering.  Then it was prayer request time.  A few spoke up with prayer needs and Debbie, the pastor’s wife, wrote them down and then prayed for them all.  Next,  Mike led in the “sharing” time, where if anyone had a testimony, a Scripture or a song to request or sing as a special number, they could share it with the church family. 

Walter and I both commented to each other how this felt much like a sharing Sunday out at the Jacob Bear Fellowship near Broadview, Saskatchewan.  The hymns and old choruses were almost identical to the songbooks that our fellow-missionaries, Brig and Chris would use in their services.  It was a cool atmosphere as most of the sharing was very open and real.  This portion of the worship time lasted almost an hour and was a core part of the event.  (The pastor told us later that this is similar to how a wake service at a funeral would be structured.)

Pastor Steve came down to the front, not to stand at the podium but to sit on the stool and used the music stand for his notes and Bible.  He preached a simple yet practical message from Psalm 1.  It was such a blessing to hear this man’s heart for the Scriptures and his love for his flock as he shared the application of being in God’s Word and not being led away or astray by the influences of the ungodly and the unhealthy.  He must have finished preaching about 1 pm but we weren’t really checking the time.  We were just enjoying the experience.

We chatted with a few folks and sort of waited around while the Steve and Debbie said their good-byes and tidied up the sanctuary.  Then we asked if they had lunch plans and agreed to meet at the nearby “Jack in the Box” for a quick meal before they went on to their afternoon/evening commitments.  We heard their stories and their plans for the next year.  We could relate to so much of their challenges and their joys.  We agreed to be “friends” on Facebook so we could keep in touch.

It was already after 3 pm and we meandered our way back to Peoria.  

We hoped to find a place to get an oil change but none were open on Sundays.  The day was another warm and calm one and we could have taken a walk but instead, we vegged in our suite until I needed to eat.  We didn’t have much except breakfast type foods so we went out to hunt.  As much as we tried to eat somewhat healthy, we gave in to the “In ‘N’ Out Burger” place nearby and I splurged on fries and a chocolate milkshake.  It tasted great!  Another beautiful day in Phoenix and we had a whole week ahead of us to enjoy!

Our next stop was to watch a 6 o’clock NHL hockey game:  the Arizona Coyotes vs. Detroit Red Wings.  I was pretty excited to see my first NHL game.  We drove around the 101 again and found the huge football stadium.  The hockey arena was next to it, but we parked in the overflow parking at the stadium and walked across.  (Turns out that was a good move because we were able to beat the traffic by exiting away from the main parking lot and get home in great time!)

The first tail-gate party we see has a huge Saskatchewan Roughrider flag!  Walter happened to wear his Rider t-shirt that day, so we stopped by to greet them.  We saw several other Rider caps or other paraphernalia at the game.  Apparently, half these hockey games have Canadians as their major supporters and fans.

In planning our day, the hockey game was sort of “iffy”, so we had on our shorts and t-shirts from the day.  Everyone we saw had jerseys on or sweaters and jackets slung over their arms!  Oops, rookie mistake!  We had plenty of time to wander the outdoor concourse of stores, bars and fast food restaurants.  We treated ourselves to frozen yogurt before heading into the game.  It was still warm and summer weather outside.

Tickets cost twice as much as our friends had estimated!  But we had excellent seats, which were behind and with family and friends of the Coyotes’ hockey team. Fun!  The goalie, Mike Smith’s wife and two little ones sat in front of us.  We chatted with our neighbours.  Someone told us there was a “Tim Horton’s” in the arena, once they heard we were from Canada.  So Walter, my hero, got us coffees and Tim Bits! 

The game itself was a very exciting game but the home team was behind 2-0 by the third period.  There were a surprising number of Detroit fans in the stands and we felt bad for the Coyotes.  Whenever the Red Wings scored, Mike Smith’s wife would put a hand on the older son’s shoulder and console him!  As it turned out, the Coyotes scored a goal in the last few minutes and so there was a chance of tying if they got one more.  They pulled the goalie but alas, the Red Wings scored on the open net.  Oh, well!  We still had a great evening, and made it home before 9:30 pm!

We arrived to find many Native Americans and other observers sitting in a grassy amphitheater with a brick center where the dancers were performing.  We watched one teenaged girl and two boys perform amazingly well for their ages, with about a dozen hoops each.  Their agility and speed and skill were very impressive.  A panel of judges and an announcer, plus two groups of drummers sat beneath a large white canopy. 

Then the announcer dismissed the crowd while the judges, drummers, singers and competitors took a 30-minute lunch break.  So we wandered over to the museum display to get in out of the heat!  The displays were of all the main tribal groups in Arizona with a wonderful assortment of artifacts and items from each one.  We were about to join a group to catch the tour, but then decided a lunch break for ourselves was in order. 

Back at the amphitheater, we watched the next older age group dance and were even more impressed with the number of hoops and more complicated maneuvers demonstrated at this level.  The costumes were colorfully eye-catching.  One of the elements to be judged would be their apparel, with the women’s footwear to have bells or jingles on them.  (In Canada, we see the women’s jingle dresses with the jingles right on the dresses!)  But it was mid-afternoon, the desert sun was stronger than these two pale-skinned Canadians could handle, so we retreated to the museum to catch the next available tour. 

We got through most of the displays, only to discover two or three more areas of other historical significance to the settling and developing of this region of Arizona.  Another day…

DAY 8

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, at 6-ish, with the rooster crowing once again! 

Eating our breakfast and plugging in the address on the IPhone maps app for our first destination, Walter and I pointed our Jetta for the 101( which is like Ring Road or Circle Drive for Saskatchewanians who might be reading this).  We arrived at the Pueblo Grande Museum by mid-morning.  The sun was hot and not a cloud would provide any shade.  The museum was quiet and we wandered inside briefly, before heading out to the ruins.

Just outside the museum doors in a patio area were a few guests and under a canopy were several flute players.  This day was a special feature of Native American flute playing demonstrations.  We paused to listen before carrying on down the paved path.  The occasional display gave explanations of the regions along the Salt River and the group of Native people who had lived in this area. 

Over a thousand years ago, a tribal group settled in the area, using their primitive tools to dig irrigation canals and develop an extensive system in order to grow vegetable gardens and other crops. These folks set up a community which consisted of rooms and storage areas on a mound, of which we hiked around the ruins.  Constructed of adobe-like materials and some stone, this raised area may have housed the leaders and elite of the community or perhaps was used for religious ceremonies.  A few other structures were found away from these mounds which were like the Navajo “hogans”, round adobe structures as single family dwellings.  Not much is known about these peoples, except that they moved away from the area. Now only this one ruin site has been preserved within the modern growth of the city of Phoenix.  Likely they are ancestors of present-day Pima tribes and possibly others, as well.

This museum was fascinating and mysterious. We saw diagrams of their irrigation systems which covered a vast area of the Salt River area.  Baskets and pottery pieces recovered in the archaeological digs were compared with the modern-day tribes' styles and designs.  Walter and I truly do enjoy the cultural anthropology field and were amazed at the advances of this people group for their day.  The geographic region, the weather and seasons all affect how the people developed as a community and related to each other.  Similarities to our Canadian tribes existed, but with the obvious regional differences influenced by our geography and seasons.  

The heat of the day was hitting us and we made sure we hydrated well before moving to our next location.  Our fireside friends of the night before mentioned that the “Native American Hoop Dancing Competition” was happening this weekend at the Heard Museum so we figured it would be good to check that out.  We wondered about parking and crowds but found space a few minutes’ walk and the crowds were n’t too overwhelming.