Leaving a Legacy - Joylene M. Bailey

The words “Leaving a Legacy” bring up an instant image for me. 

I was about 8 or 9 years old on a visit to Grandpa and Grandma in Swift Current, Saskatchewan.  Getting up in what seemed like the middle of the night to use the bathroom wasn’t scary because everything about Grandma & Grandpa’s house felt cozy and safe. Leftover smells of veranika and farmer sausage, the carpeted hallway, Grandma's sewing room walls covered with pictures of cousins, aunts, uncles and other relatives in outdated clothing, the mantel clock on Grandpa’s desk that chimed the quarter hours like a guardian angel. All added to the embrace that was Grandpa & Grandma’s house.  So it didn’t frighten me to hear voices murmuring when the house should have been dark and quiet.

Grandpa & Grandma’s bedroom was across from mine, and that night as I padded to the bathroom there they were.  In their pajamas, kneeling by their bed, side-by-side, backs towards me, praying - in Low German with smatterings of English. 

In that brief moment I heard them pray for their children, their grandchildren, their great-grandchildren, and future generations to come.  In my 8-year-old head it was just Grandma & Grandpa praying, but that image was burned into my brain.

When I think about it now I see the significance of this seemingly simple vignette.  First of all, I know without a doubt that this wasn’t a one-time thing. It was something they did every night.  And, I am humbled and overjoyed to realize that those many many years ago they were praying for my grandson, whose first birthday is today.  Their prayers still cover my family. My prayers will join theirs as I pray for my children, grandchildren, and generations to come.   

Thank you Grandma & Grandpa. What a legacy!

Passing On the Legacy - Tracy Krauss

My mother was a very vibrant and eccentric individual. She was known for her whimsical ways and inspired a family phrase that perfectly described the way she lived her life. ‘The Doreen Method’ is our way of saying ‘make it up as you go along’. This applied to recipes, sewing, carpentry… just about anything. Mom wasn’t afraid to tackle tasks if she had no previous experience or skill, but the outcome might not be the norm. As an artist she loved to paint on any surface from canvas to rocks to whole buildings. When my sister and her husband moved into Mom’s old house they were faced with a dilemma.  There were lots of funny little murals she had painted in obscure nooks and crannies. How could one paint over them?

Mom was also a storyteller, and some of my favourite childhood memories include listening to bedtime stories and songs. We were well acquainted with Thornton W. Burgess’ Adventures of Reddy Fox, for instance. In fact, foxes and mice were the favourite characters in her repertoire of stories and songs. She shared them with her children and nieces and nephews, and the tradition was carried forward to her grandchildren and even her great-grandchildren.

Mom passed away in 2007 at the age of 80. Unfortunately, we lost her seven years earlier to dementia. It was so difficult to see such a formerly vibrant individual reduced to the shell that she became. I had the privilege of sitting with her during the hours before she passed away. Somewhere around four o’clock in the morning on January 17, 2007, she slipped away to be with Jesus, free from the mental constraints that had kept her trapped for those seven years.

While I sat with her, holding her hand, I sang some of those old songs. One particularly special song was an old Haven Gillespie tune written in the 1930s called ‘The Sleepytown Express’. (listen here!) This is the song that ushered her into the presence of the Lord.  Strangely, my sisters and my two female cousins all woke at around four o’clock, dreaming about the Sleepytown Express...

I decided soon afterward that I would like to publish a book illustrating the song as a tribute to my mother. It took several years to do the paintings and quite a bit of  research to obtain permission to use the lyrics, but finally, in February of 2014, seven years after Mom passed, The Sleepytown Express was published.

Evangeline and Oma (me)

For me this project was so much more than another book under my belt. It was about sharing Mom’s legacy with the extended family and passing it on to the next generation. Here is a picture of my own granddaughter reading her favourite book. As you can see from the shape of the cover, it is well used. This is not a book to be kept in pristine or precious condition; it is a book to be sung and celebrated as we pass the memorial torch on to the next generation.

Tracy Krauss comes from a long line of creative people - artists, musicians, writers, and teachers go back generations. She currently teaches Art, Drama, and English - all things she is passionate about, while living in Tumbler Ridge with her husband. She also writes books and plays in her 'spare' time. Here is a link to an article called 'Artistic Generations'. You can also visit her website to see all of her published work: 7 novels, 7 stage plays, 3 anthologies, one devotional, and one illustrated children's book... and counting!

Generations Passing... by Bobbi Junior

Canada turned 146 on July 1, 2013.

Today I watched a video dedicated to the Prairie Sentinels, iconic grain elevators that lined railways and guarded prairie towns for the past three generations.

The song is filled with nostalgia, and it tugs at my heart-strings.

As I watched the pictures, random thoughts came to mind.

These people were immigrants. Many didn't speak the language. There were no ESL classes for newcomers.

They suffered injury and illness. No universal health care for them. If there was a doctor in wagon distance, the nearest hospital could still be over a day away.

They survived winter based on how well they managed summer and the growing season. Natural consequences had meaning for adults, as well as kids.

Often I get e-mails comparing the old days of my youth with the way things are today.  It strikes me that perhaps the definition of 'good old days' is 'that which is familiar'. Grain elevators marked the prairies for three short generations. From my perspective, they've existed forever, a lifetime! For children born 146 years ago, and for children who will be born today, Prairie Sentinels have no meaning. Is that wrong?

I have to wonder. Do we serve ourselves by dwelling on things of the past as though there was something magical, precious, life-giving, life-honoring about them? Or would we serve ourselves better by looking at today and choosing to dwell on those things that  are right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy? Philippians 4:8

Today. Not yesterday. Yesterday really is gone. Remember? Yes. Compare? No.

Today. One day, this day is all we have - as a nation, as a person. May we not disparage today, but rather search for and extol the good things our God-given intelligence and curiosity have allowed us to create.

The question I ask is not, "What have we lost?" but rather, "How can we honour what we now have?"

While Bobbi has been writing for several decades, sharing her words in a public forum is relatively new.  In 2011 her mother's progression into dementia could no longer be ignored. One day she demanded, "Someone needs to write about this!" Bobbi began to share snippets of her mother's story in a blog, and is now documenting her mother's journey in a manuscript: The Reluctant Caregiver.  www.bobbijunior.com