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When I was asked to write this article, I had to look at my calendar just to remember all the happenings in the two months since I’ve arrived at my new assignment at St. Joseph’s House, down the road from Madonna House Combermere.
There is certainly plenty of variety in our life, and I understand much more now what our director Sandra Novecosky said when she gave me a schedule: “This is what we do when there’s nothing else going on.”
My first week was all about moving. I moved in, Carol Ann Gieske moved out, and we moved all the chickens to the farm for a “winter assignment” while our new coop is being built.
I had never moved chickens in cardboard boxes or in a minivan before … and that was only the beginning of my learning curve.
I now know how to feed an outdoor wood furnace without burning off my eyelashes, how to cook for a mere six people, and that a pillow is a “piece” but a blanket is bedding. Wait! Not that blanket! That’s layette!
I am really enjoying my work in the clothing room. Carol Ann gave me a wonderful crash course the week before she left, including inviting several large families over for a mock shop day since we were not actually open.
The kids especially enjoyed trying to stump me with strange items that needed pricing—while holding my cheat sheet hostage.
I am also getting lots of good training from our volunteers, most of whom have been here far longer then any of the staff.
I would be remiss not to mention how much everyone misses Carol Ann. She touched more hearts than perhaps she even knows.
December was a whirlwind of events, potlucks, meeting people, concerts, dinner invites, meeting people, and visiting, decorating, meeting people, baking, meeting people, meeting people—and meeting people.
We have such a wonderful group of friends in this area (and beyond) who truly welcome us into their hearts as well as their homes.
No sooner had I been introduced, then I was “one of the girls at St. Joe’s” and thus a part of the family. Whether it’s a ride home or a bag of venison, I continue to be deeply touched on almost a daily basis by the unassuming love and generosity of the people of the Ottawa Valley.
And besides that, I’m told that I am “almost local” since my parents are living in Arnprior, about an hour and a half’s drive away.
Thanks to my training and practice at St. Mary’s and Madonna House, my Christmas wreath-hanging skills passed the test of the eagle-eyed church decorating committee, and I was even promoted to doing lights and garlands.
The Christmas Eve Mass was lovely, and I found that I enjoyed going to bed before four in the morning. What a wimp!
Holy Canadian Martyrs is a wonderful parish—small but mighty. It will not be a surprise to those who know me to hear that, although I am occasionally the reader, my favorite thing to do at Sunday Mass is carrying a baby.
The children in the parish bring me great joy and are a constant source of entertainment. I was recently told by a little girl who is learning to read that I did a “good job doing the reading” at Mass.
I am currently working on an explanation of poustinia for the kids who know that the St. Joe’s ladies have a day off every week, so why can’t I come skating at their house?
All in all, I am grateful to be here in this “room” of our apostolate, plugging along with the rest of the staff.
