Four Figs ~ Bites of Life

Her Grace – our dear ma

Verna Eleanor Bell (Jantzen)

June 1930 – June 2023

Nobody realized on that sunny Friday in June 1930 that before them was more than just a beautiful brown eyed girl; an angel had just been born to Netty and John Jantzen.

Their first home was a chicken farm in Abbotsford, where Verna had the daily pleasure of riling up the chickens when it was time to gather eggs in the morning. Her cow Betsy was her first love, but her family, which came to include a younger sister (Ruby Dolores), was the centre of her universe.

The family moved to Burnaby when Verna was nine, and what a transition. From the freedom of farm life she had to adjust to big city living. In the classroom she was a good student but was often scolded for sketching in the margins of her notebook. With all that practice it was no surprise she went on to become a talented water colour artist. Her art studio was open anytime to the grandkids, no restrictions.

Verna and Ken’s own lucky kids, Brian, Sharon, and Donna went on to marry and produce 7 grand kids and 7 great grand kids. And that doesn’t count how many of her kids’ friends and their families they adopted along the way.

The Bell nook was a gathering place for lively chatter (sometimes irreverent), a good bowl of soup, and endless cups of coffee. Verna took it all in quietly, with a grin, offering no advice or judgement. Listening was one of her gifts.

Over the course of her life, Verna put her whole self into her family’s wellbeing. Together with Ken, she was endlessly generous with her time and had hearty hugs when needed.

Fast forward 93 years and Verna had gathered a huge fan club. In assisted living, the staff would come to her for advice, and she would happily share her wisdom. She never stopped learning or sharing, and was a bright spark ‘till the end.

Verna left us on June 25, 2023, satisfied with her life and ready to let go of earthly concerns. It was inspirational and astounding to witness, and to be part of.

For us humans her best advice was, “listen, not to prepare a response, but to understand”, then for families, “play with your kids!”.

Goodbye dear Verna. Your cherished legacy is the unconditional love you so gracefully shared, and we miss it, and you, every day.

ladybug love for all

If you would like to share your thoughts, some love, or a story, please leave a comment below. It would be much appreciated by the whole family.

By request no flowers please.

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Fantasy Parents Stories

Molly’s Healing Touch

The hard packed sand was an invitation Molly was not going to pass up. She waved to her family then sprinted down the beach, cartwheeled back, and with a flourish, threw herself down on the sand into a headstand.

It didn’t matter that it was a cool rainy day, the gusting wind pushing and pulling. She loved the feeling of her lungs filling up with fresh salty air as she tore down the beach. Molly’s parents took her to the beach every chance they got, rain or shine.

Looking around, Molly decided to scavenge for beach treasures. When she wandered up to the grassy area just above the sand, she spotted something intriguing. There was a slightly crooked but very smooth stick. There were some pretty rocks and shells too, worthy of her collection, so she leaned over to stash them in her back pack. But when she picked up the stick, something weird happened.

Her hand started to disappear, then her arm. What was happening?

Before Molly could say, Wait, what? her whole body vanished and she found herself standing in a garden by an ancient stone cottage, quietly picking herbs. And she was a full grown woman! She wore a long simple skirt and apron, and on her feet, the coolest pair of blueberry blue leather boots. Then suddenly, POOF, Morgana took her place.

What was that? Morgana snapped her head around to see a messenger on horseback galloping towards her at high speed, and was alarmed when she recognized the castle emblem.

What did the King need from her?, she wondered, as the rider threw himself off his horse and strode towards her.

“You are Morgana, the Healing Woman.”

It was not a question.

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“The prince is gravely ill and requires your medical attention. It’s a whole day’s ride to the castle so we must dispatch without delay.”

With that, Morgana rushed into the cottage to collect her bag of tools and medicines. But what could be wrong with the prince? He was just a small child.

Morgana listened to the boy gasp for air, his face burning and dripping with fever. He was deathly white. She could see immediately that the prince didn’t have much longer.

“King Brian, this is what I need immediately.

a mortar and pestle
mustard seeds
flour
olive oil
clean towels
honey
mullein leaves for tea
rosemary
a kettle of hot water and a mug

I will also need clean bed sheets, and a fresh woolen tunic. And burn these bedclothes, everything!”

Palace staff scattered frantically in all directions and returned quickly with everything Morgana needed.
She gave directions for the mustard seeds to be ground in the mortar and pestle, and directed another anxious assistant to set the kettle over the fire so she could make some medicinal tea with the mullein leaves. some medicinal tea with the mullein blossoms. All the necessary cloths and bandages were plunged into boiling water so they would be as clean as possible. Morgana was pleased at how well the team was working together.

Finally a huge iron cauldron of water was hung over the blazing fire and fresh rosemary branches tossed in. When the water reached a rolling boil the oils in the leaves released their fragrance. It wasn’t long before the bedchamber was full of healing steam that would help open the prince’s breathing passages and loosen the infection in his lungs.

The King threw himself against the wall, terrified, but also amazed, and unable to speak. At least he wouldn’t be in the way.

Moving quickly, Morgana mixed the mustard powder with honey, olive oil and flour until she had a thick paste, then slathered it in a heavy layer all over the prince’s chest. Finally, a stack of thick towels were layered on top of the paste to seal the heat on the prince’s tiny body.

The practice of magic was strictly forbidden in the realm. Morgana hoped she was not in mortal danger if final efforts failed. Surely with the prince in such dire circumstances, she would not be punished. She hoped it would be worth the risk and decided to trust herself. Besides, the king was not making a move.

With a deep breath Morgana laid the wand on the prince’s chest then placed the gemstone heart directly over his own heart. Drawing a stool to the end of the bed, she placed her hands gently on the prince’s temples and lowered her own head until it almost touched his forehead. Finally, in hushed tones, she whispered the enchantment.

“I place this wand
upon your chest
with a healing heart
to give you rest.
Feel warm loving energy
and lay still as can be.
Receive the healing light
I send now to thee.
You are healed.

Sometime during the night the prince cracked open his eyes, his shivering stopped, and he was able to take some hot mullein and honey tea. Morgana heaved a weary sigh of relief and headed for the closest chair. Since the prince seemed to be out of danger it was safe to leave his side. She was exhausted, but all she could think of was what might have happened if the prince had not survived.

The king was grateful the tales of Morgana’s healing gifts were true and that he was able to summon her in time. His own medics, as well as the palace priest, had failed miserably.

Before she left, King Brian pleaded with Morgana to stay as his chief medic. She thanked him and said she would return any time. But she knew she was of more service in her village, where the old ways were understood and welcomed, and where her life would not be in danger for practicing magic.

Back home Morgana decided to clean and sort her medicine bag. But when she put her hand on the wand, she felt a strange vibration travel up her arm and spread throughout her body.

And with that, Morgana disappeared.

The practice of magic was strictly forbidden in the realm

“Molly, Molly, where are you? It’s time to go home” her mom called out. Molly was not far away so looked up and waved. She sat cross-legged in the sand feeling strange, like she was missing
something.

“That’s an interesting stick you found”, her mother remarked. Molly looked down at the stick in her other hand and her belly did a flip flop. Actually, she did feel as if she had been somewhere, but had absolutely no idea where or what might have happened.

The End ~ for now.

Thank you for stopping by to read Molly’s new adventure. Please scroll down to leave a message. You might also enjoy reading Greta’s Cosmic Dream ~ Four Figs , a fantasy story about space travel.

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Family Fantasy Grandparents Stories

Greta’s Cosmic Dream

As the world experiences unthinkable grief, it is my hope that this story which I wrote for my granddaughter recently, will lighten your spirit, if even for a few minutes.

Friday night Greta had a lot to think about. It was the end of her first week in Kindergarten and she had so much on her mind her brain was doing summersaults, so at bedtime she was still restless.

When it was time to fall asleep, Greta chose a few books to read. This usually helped her to slip away to dreamland, but that night she was still wide awake

What should she do?

She turned off her bed lamp, rolled onto her back, put her hands behind her head, and stared at the ceiling. For some reason the glow-in-the-dark stars were catching her attention more than usual.

As she relaxed back onto her pillow, Greta started to imagine what it would be like to fly around in space.

I’ll need a spaceship. And what if I crash into a planet or get hit by an asteroid? Will I meet some aliens? And hey, I wonder if aliens have pets?

By the time Greta finally dropped off for the night, she was flying around in space. And that’s when things got really interesting.

In her dream she spotted a pinpoint of light zooming straight towards her out of the pitch black.

When it stopped, not too far from her, she could see it was a ball of blue and white crystal light, not much bigger than herself.

As she waited and watched a small blue fairy stepped out of the ball and fluttered over to her. Her smile was as bright as a bowl of diamonds, almost blinding.

Greta loved her short blue hair, sparkly wings, and tiny blue fairy boots, and was immediately entranced.

“Little one, my name is Maia and I come from a star system far away. I heard you dreaming about the stars tonight and thinking about space. Since that is my specialty, I hopped into my starship and here I am.”

Greta’s mind was twirling with excitement, and her mouth wouldn’t work at all. She couldn’t even squeak out a “hi”.

With that Maia reached back to a hidden pocket in her wings and carefully removed a small, silky pouch.

From inside the pouch she withdrew a handful of sparkles. Some floated away as she held her hand out in front of her, disappearing off into the darkness.

Before Greta could even ask, Maia explained,

“It’s magic fairy dust”

In the next instant, Maia waived her hand gracefully towards Greta. Sparkles floated over to her on a soft golden ribbon of light that covered her body from head to toe.

As the magic dust settled, Greta could feel her heart warm up. She didn’t remember ever being so happy, not even when she got her puppy.

“Greta, you are now my friend. My fairy dust is for children with big imaginations and adventurous spirits. And what better way to explore than in your dreams.”

Maia went on to tell her that anytime Greta wanted to see her, all she needed to do was think of her before she fell asleep.

By now Greta was convinced anything was possible, and planned to do just that. She wondered what the inside of Maia’s starship was like and if Maia would teach her how to fly it.

“Oh Maia, I’m excited for a new friend, especially a space fairy! My name is Greta.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Greta. See you again soon.”

Then with a sparkly wave, she disappeared into her starship and zipped away.

The next morning Greta woke up excited and wasn’t sure why. Right after breakfast she ran to the playroom and began searching for books on space.

How interesting? Oh well. She loved to read anyways, so dropped onto the cozy carpet and flipped open the first book.

The End – for now

Greta’s new friend Maia was named after one of the stars in the Pleiadian Star System. The Ancient Greeks have a legend as to how this star system, also called The Seven Sisters, came into being. The sisters are said to be daughters of Pleione and Atlas.

With love and blessings to all, wherever you are in the world, and whatever your circumstances.

As always, comments are welcome.

If you loved this story you might also enjoy Lily and the Whispering Cedar – a fantasy forest adventure ~ Four Figs and Lily’s New Friend the Beast ~ Four Figs and…CHEF JAM ~ and the culinary caper ~ Four Figs

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Life Love Parents Poetry

Inspired Art ~ not just fun

Inspired art is not just a fun way to spend some time, it’s full of clues. It provides the opening for our everyday busy minds to set aside the daily grind and access intuition. It opens the door. Bored with routine? Need some inspiration? Doing inspired art has helped me on several occasions reveal insightful and unexpected thoughts. Something I didn’t know I needed to know.

I’d like to show you an example of what’s possible when you sit down with a pencil and a blank piece of paper then engage your imagination. You’ll need to send your left brain and all the critics on vacation, and be prepared to allow your body’s subtle impulses to move the pencil across the page. Patience is required and you’ll know when to begin and when stop. It’s as simple as setting aside some time, finding a congenial space, and then waiting patiently for the impulse.

If I’m feeling stuck, bored, or am having a repeated issue, I hit my art corner with the intention of doing some excavation. Thankfully talent is not required. In fact if you have a realistic drawing style, letting go of rules is not automatic. You’re not setting out to draw anything in particular, and perfection is not the goal. All you need to bring to the table is an open mind and willingness to have a little fun. In fact trying defeats the purpose and shuts down the flow.

Little kids do it naturally. My 6 year old granddaughter recently drew a sweet picture of me, and what jumped out was the flying heart on my sweater. I’m sure she didn’t set out to create this whimsical design, but the love was there. She also drew me laughing! One of our favorite pastimes is making up jokes then cracking up, uproariously, and at length. She is a happy little girl and a dear heart and kindred spirit.

In a professional setting, Art Therapy is used to provide insight into a client’s state of mind for both adults and kids. If you’re curious and have six minutes here is a great video from Soul Pancake to illustrate an adult session.

I’d like to share with you my latest deep dive into inspired drawing. First, the setting was spectacular and conducive; clear skies, a wooden picnic table, an old growth forest, and a like-minded buddy. A tall umbrella of trees diffused the sun’s rays to create a misty effect, giving me a sense I was in Sherwood Forest with Robin Hood somewhere about.

She journaled, I drew and then wrote, in the silence, and to the beat of our own hearts.

My drawing started as a simple circle. Then my hand, with a mind of its own, continued until the drawing felt complete. Color was next, and without thinking, off I went. Yet it still seemed unfinished and I found myself reaching for a red felt. After adding several juicy drops of bright red blood falling from my right hand, I drew three links of rusty chain from my neck. These last two additions took me aback, but I didn’t second guess. Surely it would all make sense at some point.

I peered at the goofy being looking up at me from the page, and had a sense it was me. Was I a clown, an inmate? My red face had a somewhat maniacal grin. Was it embarrassment, high blood pressure, frustration? Was I crazy? What the heck!

Then in my head I heard,

“You’ve broken from the chains of the past and are free.”

Right behind I heard the title of the piece.

“Bleed, then be free.”

Dramatic, I know, and at first I was reluctant to write it down. But the truth is, sometimes I’ve needed a knock on the head to get the message, so it made me laugh, or more accurately, choke. Indeed life has been big, with quite a bit of metaphorical bleeding, but this told me it’s over now and time to move on. The perfect message for right here, right now, and not at all what I expected when I started out that day.

To my amazement the fun wasn’t over. Without thinking, my hand moved itself over to the adjacent page and I started to write. One full page.

It was intoxicating.

Here it is, unedited (except for punctuation).

To begin, out of my head popped,

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Hah! Like I had asked a question.

Somewhat bewildered, I thought, of course I do. Then these words tumbled out.

OPEN

A vast canopy 
of muscular branches,
rustling leaves,
else silence.

Begin the release.
Open the space
and receive
who knows how
what or when,
playing all the time
with the past
wrapped around my 
heart strings.

An old package
with loving thoughts,
and thanks.
Complete, no regret.
Tired of clinging
but wanting new,
my own way.
The path of love,
myself and others.

Are you waiting for inspiration, an opening, a little gem, a whisper, a hint, something to ponder? Are you stuck? Maybe you love being creative and you’ve never heard of using inspired art as a personal tool. Go ahead and give it a try. You’ll have some fun in the process.

I’d love to hear from you with any thoughts or experiences you’ve had with inspired art, or anything at all.

(Click comment just below the post, then scroll down to the bottom of the page to view all comments.)

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Family Life Love Poetry

To Live – To Laugh – To Celebrate Love

A good friend once told me never to forget to laugh, and I cannot tell you how many times her advice popped into my head, like a mantra, at just the right moment, to save the day. It`s good to remember this at work, with friends and colleagues, but especially in a marriage, where there is no time to spend in misunderstandings. Live, laugh, and love. Just do it. Of course it takes some finesse and timing is everything.

This weekend I celebrate two sacred ceremonies. My nephew Matthew is to wed his dear heart Caroline, and my son’s good friend Benjy will likewise join hearts with his Ashlee. They are wonderful human beings, deeply in love and earnest, ready to take their relationships to this most important next step, to wed in faith that their futures together will create an even greater love for each other.

A wedding declares the full opening of the heart, offered purely to the other, trusting whatever comes there is strength in union, and that each joy will be multiplied. And it offers friends and family the chance to reconnect and celebrate their own true loves and remember all the ways love is present in their lives.

On this day of sacred commitment, I share with you a poem I wrote more than 10 years ago, to celebrate the engagement of my daughter.

THE LOVE DANCE

It embraces softly and is quiet.

It is constant and clear.

It whispers.

It must be offered freely

and received the same

with reverence and gratitude.

It is the soft glove

that guides and saves.

It is the rose that brings

fragrance and beauty.

It is the melody that

moves the soul.

It is the worth of our being.

It belongs to each of us

separately and together

here on earth,

and with the one Great Love beyond,

yet ever present.

It is up to each one of us

to remember

the door is always open

to the infinite love

that will keep us dancing.

Keep dancing dear ones. I wish you both joyous times as you begin the co-creation of your dreams.

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