No Man's Land

My sister wrote these words a few days ago:


i wait
in between
what was and
what is to be
now
expectantly
(Cathryn Ironside)

And that is where I sit, quietly waiting, the fireplace glowing brighter as the outside light dims.

The Tea House is ready, with freshly washed carpets and upholstery, linoleum scrubbed clean, comfortable chairs waiting in a circle for the guests who will inhabit them in just a few hours.

I have talked with many people I love throughout the day.

And now it's me and you.

Where do you sit in the quietness before the break-up of the old year, the breaking of a new one? Will you have a chance for a moment of reflection before you join the festivities?

How would you sum up your year? What sets it apart in your mind from every other year?

Did you accomplish what you had set out to do? Did you dare to dream dreams that actually came true?

Did you dream dreams that seem to have been crushed underfoot, disregarded, thrown back in your face?

Was this a year of unmitigated joy for you, or of unquenchable grief?

Or was it a year that seemed to slip by so quickly it was barely distinguishable in all the swirl of activity rippling around you?

We have each gained some things and lost some things that are precious to us.

But through it all, through the ups and downs, one thing rings out, a clarion call:

God Is For Us.

We may not understand His workings

but He is in control

We may feel abandoned and alone

but He is with us

We may feel apprehension for the future

but He goes before us

He loves us, and He wants what is best for us. It gives Him no pleasure to see us in pain.

And even when it seems that - despite our best efforts, despite our crying out to Him - He is nowhere to be found ...

... He is still there.

In 1988, when I was going through a time of terror and transition in my life and the unknown loomed darkly in front of me, I asked my Dad if God was still in control.

"Hold out your hand and take hold of mine," Dad said. My left hand grasped his right hand, our fingers interlocking.

"Now let go," he instructed.

So I did. My fingers stretched straight up, stretched away from the back of his hand.

And even though my fingers felt in limbo, felt detached and isolated, my hand remained in the steady grip of my father's hand.

He had not loosened his clasp one iota.

How much more so with our heavenly Father? "Underneath are the everlasting arms," my Dad whispered to me that day.

The prayer I offer as this year closes, and which I pray with you, is this:

Cardinals in the TH

Out of all her children, I'm the only one who did not share her great passion for birds; in fact, I'm quite terrified of them when we are anywhere near each other.

And yet this Christmas I was missing her immensely. I needed to honour her in some way at the TH, needed people to be reminded of the huge impact she has had on this place.

I went to the basement to get the tip teapot we use in winter - it is a cardinal one, given to me by my lovely Sarah and Taylor the Christmas my Mum died because, as Sarah said in her husky little voice, "Your Mom liked cardinals."

And after that, almost without conscious effort, cardinals started to pop up everywhere I went. Here's a peek at the TH, festooned for Christmas:

The front door wreath, created by Doreen

The mirror in the entry

Deb attached this jaunty bird to
Asher's felt hat

The sign that greets you as you enter the dining room

Door mat, presented by Brenda

Each of the three chandeliers had
its own cardinal perched on it

Our little Christmas tree - Deb started the tradition of
giving each of us a cardinal ornament the Christmas
after Mum passed away. They are all on this tree ...

Nilgiris' traditional Winter Scene on the fireplace ...

... with a close-up of the
ornament my friend Jackie
gave me last year

Ornament over the little desk

How do we go back to regular white plates after using these all season?!

Cowboy cardinal from Brenda,
making sure the boys
wash their hands!

Men's room

Ladies' room

Cardinal kids playing in the corner

Meant to be: my friend Lynda - who had
no clue about the cardinal theme -
made this apron for me!

Tip pot from Sarah and Taylor

The Salt and Pepper Shaker Chorus

Snow globes

Mini tea sets, given to me
by Sharon and Vernon
since 2007

Our family's Christmas pudding - Dad's Mom's own recipe - stuffed with coins like Mum's Mum taught us and served with rich white sugar condensed milk sauce and 

caramelized brown sugar sauce from these beautiful pitchers 

The handmade chandelier over the counter was
the perfect perch for the cardinal
Bronwyn brought us on Christmas day

... and underneath it, a picture of Mum
on her beloved verandah in Bangalore

The last cardinal was to be found outside, to the east of the TH, in the Josh Tree. Enduring the elements, this little bird managed to cling to the brittle twig-like branches throughout the season, a brave solitary figure that reminded us of grief in this season of gladness, it is true; but also of the marvellous grace of the Baby, born in a stable, who would grow up to say to those people who love and trust Him, "Lo, I am with you always," and "Where I am, there you will be also."

They've Arrived!

In the airport moments before they went through security. Bronwyn sent us a note today telling us about their wonderful journey, and hinting at a sweet apartment that I know she will already have started to make beautiful in that way only she has. 


Elliot and Oliver ... oh okay, and your parents, I guess ... I miss you already! 


And I have decided that to be able to bear it, I need five kids for five Events. I went on an Event every month with Elliot or Oliver. It was a chance to hang out and to get a book, and then to enjoy a beverage and a chat.


You should be between 10 and 14 and you HAVE to like reading! Any takers?


Aoife, I'm signing you up first of all!


Asher, what about you? (We might have to smuggle your Mom along too!)


Elliot and Oliver: get back here soon ... xoxo

Christmas Day

Emmanuel, Emmanuel

His name is called

Emmanuel

God with us

Revealed in us

His name is called

Emmanuel

Tea House Christmas Carol

One of my goals at the TH is for my kids to attend a cultural event each year. Two years ago we went to Stuart McLean's Vinyl Cafe Concert. Last year, there was Handel's Messiah.

This year, Bronwyn hit on the very thing: Theatre Calgary's A Christmas Carol. Her church's staff was going on Wednesday evening, and there was availability for a group for the matinee performance on Thursday, December 22. She gave me the contact information for Carolynn Tyson and Brad Carter, Theatre Calgary's group sales manager and the caterer who works out of Foothills Alliance respectively.

I sounded out my staff: "What do you think about A Christmas Carol for the TH Christmas event?" I asked. 

"Which Christmas Carol?" "Will we have to sing?" 

"No - Dickens' Christmas Carol," I reassured them. 

"Which one was his?" "Who is he?" "I don't think I know him ..."

That settled it. I called Carolynn and emailed Brad.

And, just like that, everything was put into place and all we had to do was be there at 1 p.m. on Thursday.

Just before 1 o'clock I walked to the locked doors of the Max Bell Theatre and was immediately whisked inside the elegantly decorated lobby, to be greeted by none other than Carolynn herself.

The lobby, with Carolynn waiting to greet us ...

A more gracious hostess
you could not find!

She took me upstairs to get a glimpse of the private lobby where the TH family would be having lunch, and she introduced me to Brad's staff and also to John Fortunka, the Theatre's Front of House Manager.

Then we went back downstairs and heard John announcing that the Front Of The House ... Was Now ... Open. The staff, who had been lounging about desultorily, sprang into action and to their positions. The doors swung open and I beckoned for my group to enter.

After the normal muddle of checking coats and looking for a few people who were in turn looking for cheap parking (in downtown Calgary? I guess I didn't warn you enough times ...!), Carolynn guided us upstairs to the third floor.

What a welcome at the bottom of the stairs!

Sign at the entrance to the private lobby area

Happy Birthday, Curt!

When most of us were in, I welcomed everyone and Dad said grace; and then I decreed that the order to the buffet would be, as it is in the TH, shortest to tallest - but that Curtis, on his seventeenth birthday, should be able to get into the line early ...

The food - a selection of hot and cold hors d'oeuvres, punch, and tea and coffee - was the perfect introduction to a "stand-up" reception for my kids. But all too soon John's dulcet tones started to come through the speaker system: 15 minutes ... ten ... five minutes before the curtain, ladies and gentlemen! Carolynn was there for us, shepherding those of us who needed the elevator into the right one, and directing the rest of us down the stairs. We had the entire rows B and C, the fourth and fifth rows from the front - perfect for seeing the actors' expressions and all the detail of the sets!


The house lights dimmed and words started flashing across the thin curtain ... Charles Dickens' words:

I have endeavoured in this Ghostly little tale to raise the Ghost of an Idea

which shall not put my readers out of humour with themselves,

with each other, with the season, or with me.

May it haunt their houses pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it.

Their faithful Friend and Servant,

Charles Dickens

And the magic began ... Marley was dead, of course. We know that. But from that moment on, we were led down new paths of mystery and enlightenment, beauty and quasi terror. Stephen Hair commanded the stage, but never by force. His Scrooge this year, under the direction of Dennis Garnhum who also adapted the play, plumbed the depths of Ebenezer's pain that was manifest as, well, Scrooge-ishness.

The set was magnificent. The costumes were gorgeous. The music - ahh, the carols! - were sublime. The story moved along at a clipping pace with pauses for throat-catching scenes such as riding the bedroom window with the Spirit of Christmas Past into Ebenezer's childhood misery and, much later, visiting Tiny Tim's grave with the clever, formidable, silent Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come. 

The rollicking fun of the new housekeeper trying to keep all the dishes and food on the dinner tray was little Maya's favourite part of the whole thing; and the Fezziwigs' Christmas party was joyful and loving in a way that made you want to apply for a job with them immediately. 

The skating party on the Thames, silver blades flashing and little silver flasks on hand to keep the chill off, conjured a wonderful dinner party thrown by Scrooge's nephew, Fred, and Fred's new wife. Bob Cratchit, Scrooge's clerk, was terrific; the entire family, with the tiniest of Tiny Tims, was spot on.

And through it all, the snow fell. Big, fluffy flakes of snow that drove Scrooge past the point of even the façade of patience with his fellow man on this waste of perfectly good working hours. As the story glided its way along its course, he began to be able to ignore and at last to appreciate and even to revel in the snow.

At intermission, my little group crowded our way back to our lobby, where Brad's guys had set out desserts and fruit for us. The conversation was animated ... how could that Scrooge guy be so mean? Were you scared of the ghosts in the very beginning? Only for a moment, but then when they laughed it was okay. How did Marley fly right up to heaven from his coffin? Do you think that could happen, Pastor Ironside? Wasn't Marley mean too? Well, I thought the part with Robinson Crusoe was the coolest. D'you think all those books had stuff written in them? Hey! Try one of these cup cakes!

Our own beautiful Maya,
herself dressed like Christmas

Twenty minutes disappeared as fast as the sweets and we all trooped back down to our seats.

The second half was as enthralling as the first. And when Scrooge finally caved and saw the error of his ways, an audible sigh rippled along rows B and C. This wonderful story of the redemption and transformation of someone who appeared to be a heartless, penny-pinching tyrant had once again found its mark.

But there was one more moment of rapture in store and that was at the end of the show. It had started to snow again - this time, Scrooge raised his hands to embrace it, a benediction of sorts - but suddenly there was a universal gasp: it was snowing all through the theatre! The magic of the play literally touched every one of us.

They received a standing ovation, of course - who can remain on your feet when your heart is bursting?

 After the heartstring-tugging plea by Stephen Hair on behalf of the Food Bank and Theatre Calgary's "Toonies of Turkeys" campaign (no wonder Calgary raises so much money - one must go where this Scrooge leads!), we slowly wended our way toward the coat-check, sleepwalkers with no desire to awaken.


My kids' eyes were like stars as they hugged me and earnestly thanked me for the day. "I never knew a play could be like that!" one said to me fervently.


Oh, my kids ... God bless you, every one!

(Trudie Lee Photography is the photographer for all the official Christmas Carol photos in this post. Read the Calgary Herald's review and the Calgary Sun's review of this extraordinary production. To listen to a CBC interview with the charming Stephen Hair, who plays Scrooge, click HERE, then click on the Play arrow.)