Whatever He Says

The Room of Days

2008-08-07T21:29:00.007-04:00

Proverbs 2:6-11 (New International Version)
6 For the LORD gives wisdom,
and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.
7 He holds victory in store for the upright,
he is a shield to those whose walk is blameless,
8 for he guards the course of the just
and protects the way of his faithful ones.
9 Then you will understand what is right and just
and fair—every good path.
10 For wisdom will enter your heart,
and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul.
11 Discretion will protect you,
and understanding will guard you.

I closed my eyes to listen with full concentration. The music finding its way from my laptop, through the wires and into the ear buds in my ears, was so beautiful that it took me to a place in my imagination; a room in heaven. The Room of Days is what I named it in my thoughts.

I saw a room in which all of our days, just like photos in an album, could be looked at; the choices we made in them seen by the ones whose days they were; many choices, made in split seconds. For instance; to be kind or not, to follow a selfish course, or to sacrifice time and energy for others.

Each day starts out as a blank page of possibility and from the moment of waking, the choices begin, choices to do it right; or do it dysfunctionally, moment by moment, scores, if not hundreds of small choices in a day.

I think that if room existed, it might hold more regrets than not. I'm glad it is only in my imagination.

But the thought of reviewing our days reminds me of a practice I once read about, called the Evening Examen. It is a ritual of reflecting each evening on the events of the day, turning them over mentally--looking at those small choices made, while opening up the heart and soul to the Holy Spirit. It seems a good very thing to do, but I confess that in my busyness, I rarely take the time to do it.

Today though, is a day in which it feels important to do so and to thank God for his Presence from start to finish.

I started the day feeling such a need for God. I didn't want to consider weighty matters without him. My work involves people. Sometimes it feels as if the people get buried under an avalanche of paper, but that is just a red herring. You could burn the paper and the people would still be there, and people matter; very, very much.

So I prayed, even though I was far too rushed. And I took time to open my Daily Light and read my daily Marathon of Biblical Proportions reading (still behind but in the race). And God spoke, and I felt like I got that part right. That's the wonderful thing, we can always say, "From this point, I'm going to do it right." We may fail, but we keep trying, and when we do get it right it feels so good that we just want to keep doing it that same way. Today was like that.

I read a post on my friend Joanna Mallory's blog this morning (God With Us: Finding Joy; the address is http://joannamallory.wordpress.com/ ) and some words in her post were very meaningful to me:
He hasn’t sent us out on assignment with only our wits and resources. Remember, He’s given us the Holy Spirit as Counsellor, Comforter, Reminder of His Word.

I went forward with these words, and those from Proverbs 2 and 3, singing in my heart, and I felt God with me all through the day. I felt his truth and justice flowing.

In the Room of Days, this one would shine.

Proverbs 3:5-6 (New International Version)
5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
6 in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight.

An Ever Present Reality

2008-08-06T01:15:00.000-04:00

The guest preacher unexpectedly turned in the middle of his talk and addressed us – the visiting missionaries – He said the Lord wanted to say 2 Corinthians 12:9 to us: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” This man knew nothing of us. We were visiting the church where I had been part of a women’s multi-denominational prayer and study group before we went to live in Uganda. That was our only connection. It was the last Sunday of a six month furlough. I had expected God to speak to us in some special way. But what did this mean?

Of course it’s THE verse for all of us. His grace IS sufficient always. And always it seems we tend to live as if it isn’t. Why were we, now, in our fifth year as missionaries, needing to be told this? No more clues came, even when we were prayed for later in the service. The usual prayers were prayed which were comforting. The preacher said nothing more.

But out in the foyer as we moved in opposite directions, I caught a look behind his eyes. “He knows something he can’t say”, I thought to myself. I had a sense of foreboding. What was going to happen when we returned? Was there something terrible about to happen which God was speaking to? Why else would He insert such a message in the midst of a sermon about another topic by a preacher who knew nothing of our situation? I believed God wanted to get our attention and assure us of His care for us in the days to come.

We returned to our home in Uganda. There was a sense of unease about our compound worker. He had never liked the highly educated clergyman we had hired to keep our projects going in our absence, and, hopefully into the long term future. This man had always put him down, treated him, his own countryman, as a servant, while we, the white people, honoured him as a friend, and still do.

In a few weeks it was clear. Thousands of dollars of our funds had been embezzled by this man, without remorse. We fired him. He launched a hate campaign against us, twisting personal information into lies, inciting the hatred latent within the administration of the church we served, who resented our scrupulous management of funds on projects, not allowing them personal access to designated money. Now the people on the hill were split – our friends, the honourable Christians, were horrified at this betrayal, yet, having tried to warn us of this man’s character, in some ways not surprised. The others – well – they were almost envious that this man had got away with something they hadn’t.

The administration asked us to let them handle the “trial” of one of their own. We trusted them. It turned into a kangaroo court. We were blamed for the misfortunes that had come upon us. Hateful letters, ridiculous demands, violations of written agreements followed. Warnings that the man we had hired and fired was capable of much more evil. We had two young children. Our work was not wanted except by those who needed it and had no voices to speak. It was time to shake the dust off our feet.

We left Uganda three months after we had arrived back. Other missionaries said we were fortunate to do what we did – sell our furniture and vehicles, get out with our lives and thirteen duffel bags full of our prized possessions, mostly books. Missionary friends took us in locally while we cleaned up. We heard from Canada that the home we had bought several years before would unexpectedly be available to us within a few months. Our children were even looking forward to going to live in Canada.

Indeed, His grace was sufficient, moment by moment, day by day, week by week. And so it has been in all our days here in Canada, in the years since. Those who always loved us kept in touch. The new administration has invited us to come back anytime. Our daughters are now there visiting, being blessed by those who loved us. His grace continues.

That Sunday morning God spoke of something that we all should know and trust in all the time. Yet our unbelieving wounded hearts find it so hard to do. Yesterday I read the following words by Prebendary H.W. Webb Peploe, quoted in Streams in the Desert:

“God cannot make it any more sufficient than He has made it; get up and believe it, and you will find it true, because the Lord says it in the simplest way: ‘My grace is (not shall be or may be) sufficient for thee.”

Be Lifted High

2008-08-05T22:52:00.002-04:00

I spotted an unfamiliar face in the crowd that had gathered for a barbecue; the first party at a new home for people with intellectual and physical disabilities .

Outside in the bright, warm sun of the summer day, vans and cars lined the driveway. Someone had set up lawn chairs out on the back deck, but they were deserted; everyone seemed to prefer to gather inside, in a large, bright room off the kitchen. Guests always seem to gravitate where they will!

I introduced myself to the one person there I didn't know, the young man I had seen when I walked in, and as somebody picked up a guitar and began to lead the group in some worship songs, he told us that he'd been reading the psalms. It was obvious from his expression as well as his words, how much they meant to him. He told us of the musical instruments that the psalms mention and how we are to worship God with singing and all kinds of instruments and how God is enthroned on our praises. Since I too, had just almost finished the book of psalms, we had instant common ground.

Sometimes you meet someone who is "connected," you know; and he was. He was just a man who loved God and wasn't afraid to say so. It just came out so naturally because that was who he was.

He was short, and slim of build, and he wore blue jeans and a red shirt. His dark brown hair was neat and short and his features showed that he had a syndrome labeled as a disability; Downs Syndrome.

I've been thinking of him since then, and how he was such an example to us. And I thought about him again this evening when I felt weak and inept and inadequate.

Paul is away with 7 others on a missions trip in the north, so tonight, hosting our small group, something we always do together as a team, I needed to manage alone.

God provided a driver to pick up the two non drivers from Bradford; my friend Frances. I was grateful for her help, but still, preparing sandwiches and snacks, showing a DVD and leading a discussion, felt like a lot. Praise God, David came to my rescue and took care of the technological aspects of manning the controls for the projector and DVD player, I was so grateful for his help.

Still, when we sat down afterwards to discuss the topic; the authority of God and the State, I felt ill prepared and mentally fuzzy. Again I leaned into my friends who weren't fuzzy at all, but held a good discussion.

Returning from the drive to Bradford afterwards, and while washing the last few dishes and putting away the remains of the meal, I thought about the new friend I met at the barbecue.

He and I are passionate about God, and that is a flame that burns in us, although we might be weak in other ways. In spite of that, God uses us.

As I tidied up, I hummed a song that has been on my heart and in my head for the past few days; Be Lifted High. The words are so beautiful and I love the version by Leeland, which you can hear him sing on You Tube. Me and my friend, we want to lift him high, so that he, not we would be seen.

Be Lifted High
------Michael W. Smith

Sin and its ways grow old
All of my heart turns to stone
And I'm left with no strength to arise
How You need to be lifted high

Sin and its ways lead to pain
Left here with hurt and with shame
So no longer will I leave your side
Jesus, you be lifted high

You be lifted high
You be lifted high
You be lifted high in my life
Oh God
And I fall to my knees
So it's you that they see
Not I
Jesus, you be lifted high

And even now that I'm inside your hands
Help me not to grow prideful again
Don't let me forsake sacrifice
Jesus you be lifted high
And if I'm blessed with the riches of kings
How could I ever think that it was me
For you brought me from darkness to light
Jesus, you be lifted high

You be lifted high
You be lifted high
You be lifted high in my life
Oh God
And I fall to my knees
So it's you that they see
Not I
Jesus, you'll be lifted high

Oh Jesus, you be lifted high
Oh you be lifted high
Oh you be lifted high in my life
Oh God
And I fall to my knees
So it's you that they see
Not I
Jesus, you be lifted high

The Source of a Yearning

2008-08-04T22:48:00.007-04:00

We went to a party last week.
The home was beautiful, an estate property really. Decorated tastefully, no expense spared. The pond in the back nestled into the dip in the hill, trees overhanging.
On the way there, as we drove through the hills and past green fields, Frank commented on how lovely it would be for us to live in the countryside again.
Something awakened in me. Something I keep putting to sleep, but with very little nudging, it opened sleepy eyes, and began to yearn.

Growing up on five country acres, in a log house with a century old barn and hilly pastures where horses grazed, I was spoiled for the ordinary. I long for more...for the silence only broken by the robin song and the rush of barn swallows wings as they warn me away from their home, nestled under the eaves.
Yet now, by choice, Frank and I live in a small town, with a generous yard and lovely home. We are thankful. I believe that sometimes the hunger I feel is akin to envy or an unrest that stems from a pervasive sense of dissatisfaction coming from the depth of my soul.
Frankly speaking, it is wrong.
I am most at rest when I stay off the MLS and thank God for all He has blessed me with. Believe me, I am abundantly blessed, and this constant seeking of something else is either sin, or a soul hunger for that other home that awaits in another place where I will go one day. That is a good longing and to be pursued. That is what I desire, to ready myself, to get packed for that final journey when He takes me to the mansion He's prepared for me. I do plan to stay here longer, but as long as I fix my eyes on that final destination, then I know all else will drop away and cease to be important.

LONGING

If I cry out for a garden
Or open space to play
A country field to run in
Abba, help me go Your way.

Quell this yearning in me
Or grant it Lord I pray
But give me only your will
Bring righteousness today.

The trees are sweetly calling
Birds and butterflies abound
But send me only to the place
Your Presence will surround.

Teach me what to yearn for
To long for only You
Then You’ll do the work that’s right
And make my heart so true.

“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” Matt. 6:33

Opportunity in Disaster

2008-08-03T09:56:00.011-04:00

Blood spurted from his head and Josiah was crying loudly. When Olivia yelled, "Mom, Jeremiah hit Josiah with a rock, come quick", I was at the door. "He's bleeding", she screached.

I ran to the beach. His mass of curls were covered in blood and it was running down his face and onto the sand. Olivia was screaming now and so were Jeremiah and Josiah. For a split second, I wondered how clean my hands were and then it no longer mattered. I had to get the bleeding to stop. I covered the place with my hand, applying gentle pressure. There was no hope of seeing the laceration - too much hair, too much blood. I wrapped my free arm around Josiah's tummy and pressed his head to my chest, careful to maintain the gentle but steady pressure.

The rock was large, probably weighing about a pound. He needed stitches, that much was clear. There was now blood all around me and the deck was covered. It was streaming down his face. I thanked God for his loud and frantic cries, knowing it was a good thing. Hannah panicked and was also crying. She was unable to receive instruction. Joshua was crying and Olivia was beginning to panic. None of the children had seen so much blood and it frightened them. I asked Joshua to go to the dining room and grab a clean dish towel from the buffet. He was inside the cottage asking, "What's a buffet?"

With some confusion,we controlled Josiah's bleeding and the immediate emergency was over. The situation, as I learned later, fell into the definition of a disaster.

I called on our Heavenly Father and 9-1-1. I was thankful for the help of both.

Everyone was calm as we awaited the ambulance. Josh confessed, I thought he was going to die. He's not, is he mom?"

I realized all three had similiar thoughts for their eyes were turned to me and they were expectant for the answer. I explained, "Josiah is going to be just fine. He needs stitches. He's alert, conscious, and he's now only bleeding a little. Look at him."

Josiah was snuggled in my arms and happily chatting.

All 6 of us went to Midland District Hospital by ambulance. The ambulance attendant, Steve, rated Josiah's condition a 3 on a scale of 1-4 in severity. There were lights but no sirens. We were on a direct route to the hospital. Josiah was stable but the blood was still oozing through the new dressing Steve had put on. I told him, "Thanks for sharing about the scale. I was beginning to feel bad for using the ambulance service unnecessarily and deterring them from other life-threatening calls."

Steve smiled and reassured me further, "In training, a disaster is defined as any emergency where the need exceeds the resources. By all accounts this qualifies. You did the right thing at every level."

I smiled because by that definition, many of us experince varying degrees of disasters regularily. Yet we have a Heavenly Father who pours into us so our resources meet the need, moment by moment. Our Father is faithful. His grace is sufficient. These disasters provide opportunities for us to realize our frailty and need.

We learn to put our strength in our Lord God and not in others, or ourselves. His power is made perfect in our weakness.

Once at the hospital, Josiah got his stitches. We were back to the cottage by 2:30 p.m. The incident probably happened around 11:00 a.m. Although things went well, I felt stretched.

Once again, I called on God. Here was another situation where the need exceeded my strained resources. God was faithful. Hannah and I got lunch. They were all really hungry. I was not.

We thanked God for His goodness and His grace and that He is an ever-present help in trouble. Often it is in disaster, that we experience the fullness of God's love. We had felt the loving hand of God throughout the ordeal.

We are so thankful that Josiah only required stitches.

The children will soon have the opportunity to learn some basic first aid so they will be better equipped for future emergencies. We are thankful for this experience that has shown us the need.

Whatever...

2008-08-02T19:59:00.002-04:00

Titus 3:1-2 (New International Version)
1Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, 2to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and to show true humility toward all men.

"Whatever..."

We hear the word these days as a dismissive expression, indicating a distinct lack of interest on the part of the speaker, in the subject at hand.

This morning it caught my eye in Titus 3 but had the opposite effect.

I had just read a note at the end of Titus saying that the letters of Paul to Titus and Timothy are his last writings and mark the end of his life and ministry. I am interested in what a great person has to say at the end of their life and so I was looking closely.

Of course, this name and thrust of this blog is based on John 2:5, another "whatever " verse.

"If I could leave behind only one piece of wisdom it would be to echo the words of Jesus’ mother, “Whatever He says to you, do it." Belinda, June 21 2006

Although I am sure that there are many other wonderful "whatevers" in the Bible, I leave you with one that comes to mind immediately, from Philippians:

Philippians 4:8-9 (Amplified Bible)
8For the rest, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is worthy of reverence and is honorable and seemly, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely and lovable, whatever is kind and winsome and gracious, if there is any virtue and excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think on and weigh and take account of these things [fix your minds on them].
9Practice what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and model your way of living on it, and the God of peace (of untroubled, undisturbed well-being) will be with you.

I'm thinking today of these "whatevers" and how I can build them into my life more faithfully; after all, that hero of the faith, Paul, wrote to Titus, whom he was mentoring:

Titus 3:8 (New International Version)
8... And I want you to stress these things, so that those who have trusted in God may be careful to devote themselves to doing what is good. These things are excellent and profitable for everyone.

Three Good Friends

2008-08-02T18:01:00.000-04:00

Molson and I popped in for a visit with Fanny so that she wouldn't be quite as lonesome with Susan and Ron away. Fanny loved Molson and he was patted and stroked all the way from the front door to Fanny's room by other residents of the manor, who miss having a dog in their life.

A Man Named Cam McRae

2008-08-01T20:00:00.000-04:00

Above: Cam McRae in his basement workshop.

The Restigouche River and the hills of Quebec beyond. Taken from Cam's backyard.

I was standing at the side of the road trying to get a photo of the Restigouche River, which empties into Chaleur Bay, near Dalhousie New Brunsick. He came out of his house and walked hesitantly toward me, as though he might be just as shy of me as I was of him. By his age and the way he was dressed – clean white t-shirt and off-white cargo pants, with a well broken-in boat hat perched jauntily on his head – he looked like someone who must be retired, but when he shook my hand a few minutes later, I knew instantly by his tough skin that this was a man who was still well acquainted with hard work.

“Do you live here?” I asked. I raised my voice to cover the thirty foot gap that was between us and closing as he walked toward me. I was afraid that he was about to tell me – a tourist and a complete stranger – to get lost.

“Yup! I live here.” he called back.

“Well, I hope you thank God every day.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He had almost reached me by that time. There was a tnederness in his voice as he stopped and turned to admire the view with me.

“It’s incredible,” I said. “I can’t imagine how beautiful it must be to watch the seasons change from here.”

“You can walk down to the see the beach if you like,” he said, inviting me on to his well cut lawn. If it's pictures you want, you can get a better picture down there.” I thought he was going to stay there or go back to the house as I headed toward the water, and was a little surprised when he stepped out and came along with me. I had to hold back on my gait so that he could keep pace with me. His step was weak and his right arm shook constantly the entire time I talked to him. I mentioned how well kept his lawn looked and asked if it was he who kept it cut.

“Yeah. I have a little tractor and I do it myself. It’s a lot of work, but I like to do it.” He told me about having had a heart attack and six by-pass surgeries. “And now they tell me I have Parkinson’s,” he said, with just the trace of a “hmph” in his voice. He obviously wasn’t going to take the news lying down. “I used to have a hundred acres up the road there,” he said, pointing back toward Campbellton, whence we had just come, “but my daughter took over the farm and we moved in here. The house used to belong to my wife’s mother, but she gave it to us. She lives in a nursing home, now." I was talking to a man whose roots obviously ran deep into the deep brown New Brunswick soil. "I’m on a pension now, but I still like to keep busy,” he said as a segue to tell me about his walking sticks.

“I make them for a boutique that sells ‘em down in Dalhousie.”

I told him I’d had a good walking stick, but one of my boys broke it in a game of “knights” when it was being used as a jousting stick. He laughed and shook his head at the rascals he’d never met. I got directions to the boutique told him I would be stopping in down there to have a look and maybe buy one to replace the one I was now missing.

“You’ll need one if you’re going to be doing any walking.” I had told him that we were headed to Cape Breton and the National Park there. “Let me just go into my shop and I’ll see what I have here,” he said. We left the riverbank and walked toward the two story red-trimmed white frame house. I answered his questions about my large family as we walked toward the back of his house. The house was built into the bank so that when he opened the door he was able to walk directly into his basement workshop. Completely out of view by this time, of Ron and Jorie waiting in the car out on the road, I felt not a shred of fear of this gentle man as I followed him inside his house.

A man’s workshop says a lot about him, and my searching eyes took in every possible detail in the minute or so it took him to go through his pile of newly varnished walking sticks. He seemed to be carefully picking out just the right one. “Do you like this one?” he said.

I did. I took the lovely white birch stick into my hand and instantly loved the feel of it. He pointed out that he had put a whistle into one end. “It’s for the older people who have strokes,” he said. His voice was edged with concern. “If they need help, they can just lean over a little and blow the whistle like this.” A shrill whistle pierced the workshop as he demonstrated for me.

“Or if you’re lost in the woods you can use it to call for help,” I offered.

“Yes, that too,” he agreed. Then he said, “Maybe you’d like this one better,” and he held out a different stick, a little shorter than the first.

“No, I think I like the first one better,” I said after quickly trying it out.

“It’s too long for you, though,” and he quickly showed me exactly how to trim it in such a way as to make sure it was exactly the right size.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked him.

“Just take it,” he said. “I want you to have it.” His tone was such that I knew it would be useless to argue. I tried anyway, only to find out my first guess had been quite right. You can be sure, though, that I did some detective work when I got to the boutique down the road, in order to get his mailing address. He’s going to be hearing from me.

Meeting this man outside his house in Dalhousie Junction, New Brunswick, and the few minutes spent with him in his basement workshop will be a part of this vacation that I will never forget. He is obviously in poor health, but he is not going to let that get in the way of living life to the fullest. I felt encouraged and refreshed on my way, not just on the journey to Cape Breton, but on the journey of life. As Ron and Jorie and I headed east down the road toward the coast and toward our final destination on Cape Breton, I thanked God for the privilege of meeting a man like Cam McRae. His hospitality and generosity ministered to my heart and I found myself asking God to make me more like him. We can’t always choose what happens to us in life, but we can sure choose our attitude about it. Get on with life and get on with being whatever blessing we can be to those who God sends our way. When the next bump in the road comes for me, I hope I make the choice to have an attitude just like Cam McRae’s.

First You Must Open Your Heart

2008-07-31T21:16:00.005-04:00

The suspense is palpable as we turn each page. We sit, we three, on the couch, I in the middle, and on either side a girl, with long, silken, summer-sun-kissed hair. Their skin is the colour of the brown eggs in the grocery store; the kind you pay extra for; even though the insides are the same as the white eggs; but I digress.

Both have eyes the colour of chestnuts and Victoria has a delicate sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of her nose that looks as if an angel flicked a paint brush laden with burnt sienna, as a finishing touch when God was making her.

I pause in my reading of the book, as I often do, to ask a question. "What do you like best--movies or books?"

Without hesitation, with eyes wide and bright, they shout out, "Books!"

"Why books?" I ask.

Tiffany-Amber said, "Because movies are so...predictable."

And Victoria added, "Yes, and books allow you so see so many more pictures in your mind."

Oh, I know. I know exactly what they mean. We have been enthralled with the book we've been reading. It is a book that makes your heart ache and almost break--and all over the adventures of an arrogant china rabbit that is being softened through suffering.

Tonight we are nearing the end of the book and we share the sweet sadness known to all who love a good book and hate to see it end. I pause, and go back and reread a passage, in which Edward the rabbit, who had been so dreadfully hurt that he refused to acknowledge his heart anymore, feels it fluttering to life:

* Edward's heart stirred. He thought, for the first time in a long time, of the house on Egypt Street and of Abilene winding his watch and then bending toward him and placing it on his left leg, saying: I will come home to you.
No, no, he told himself. Don't believe it. Don't let yourself believe it.
But it was too late.
"Some one will come for you."
The china rabbit's heart had begun, again, to open.

And I say to the girls that think that the story of Edward is a story within a story and that the story is our story, the story of lives lived and finding the courage to love and be loved. And I tell them how sometimes a heart will close itself up in self protection but how that is a sad thing and to be avoided at all costs in favour of bravery.

Two sets of eyes are wide open. Two pairs of ears listening carefully. And I treasure this moment, in which I hope two small hearts are growing in understanding, in the ways of life and of God, with the help of Edward and a grandmother who loves them.

* The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate diCamillo

Acts 14:22 (New Living Translation)
22 where they strengthened the believers. They encouraged them to continue in the faith, reminding them that we must suffer many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.

Trusting for treasures in the darkness

2008-07-30T19:17:00.001-04:00

“I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places.”
Isaiah 45: 3.

These words were originally spoken by God to King Cyrus, but they were a special word from Him to me some years ago. And over and over again, God has given me treasures out of many kinds of darkness, and many secret places. I have given talks about the treasures He gave me out of much trial and difficulty in our years in Uganda. I could write a book about what He has given me since. And the stories go on, the lessons continue. Others may understand the same truths, but express them in diffferent ways. One friend always says “In everything give thanks”, and “Grow in your valleys”, and then tells stories from her life of the blessings out of problems, the hidden things God did through great trials.

We could bring many verses from scripture to express the answer to our continual question to God – “Lord, what are you doing with this? Do you love me, Lord? Why is this happening? “And often we have to wait longer than we would like to know the answers to those questions. But God IS our Father, and He wants to answer our whys. He told me that recently. And eventually we come to be so grateful for how we have grown and could not imagine how we could have become who we are without all that pain and struggle. I can affirm that in so many ways in my life. I imagine you could too. And my hunch is that you need to hear that again from me, as I need to hear it from you, time and time again.

I found a story by Henry Ward Beecher in Streams in the Desert that illustrates this spiritual truth in a special way. I share it here with you.

“I recollect, when a lad,..sitting on an elevation of a mountain , and watching a storm as it came up the valley. The heavens were filled with blackness, and the earth was shaken by the voice of thunder. It seemed as though that fair landscape was utterly changed, and its beauty gone never to return.

But the storm swept on, and passed out of the valley; and if I had sat in that same place on the following day, and said, “Where is that terrible storm, with all its terrible blackness?” the grass would have said, “Part of it is in me,” and the daisy would have said, “Part of it is in me,” and the fruits and flowers and everything that grows out of the ground would have said, “Part of the storm is incandescent in me.”

Have you asked to be made like your Lord? Have you longed for the fruit of the Spirit, and have you prayed for sweetness and gentleness and love? Then fear not the stormy tempest that is at this moment sweeping through your life. A blessing is in the storm, and there will be the rich fruitage in the “afterward.”

Let us keep expecting treasures in the darkness, blessings in the storm.

Intimacy with the Infinite

2008-07-29T22:37:00.001-04:00

Matthew 18:20 (New International Version)

20For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them."

"How do we enter into a deep and intimate relationship with the infinite--personal God?"

That was the final question in a discussion this week with two small groups of friends who met at our house to watch one of The Truth Project dvds .

The Truth Project series, over 13 weeks, is pretty weighty in terms of material; very interesting and challenging. Two groups are meeting on different nights in our home each week throughout the summer, to participate.

Not everyone in the groups would describe themselves as a Christian. The material presented speaks for itself and there is no agenda in the discussion except to explore the ideas presented, further.

But of course we pray for the groups because it is all about helping people discover God or have a greater understanding of who he is.

And so this question...

One older person mused, with furrowed brow, "How do you enter into a deep and personal relationship with the infinite and personal God?"

The question made him think of the true story a Lancaster bomber shot down during World War 11 and how, incredibly, one of the crew, the rear gunner survived. A crew member who died, Andrew Mynarski, was awarded a Victoria Cross posthumously for his heroic actions in trying to save his crew mates, even though the pilot was urging him to jump. When he finally was ordered to jump, his parachute had been so damaged by the flames that it didn't open.

It truly was a miracle that the rear gunner survived the plane's disintegration and our friend said that the gunner felt that God had something to do with his survival.

The person who told this story is thinking deeply about God and the evidence for his existence.

Another person, a young university student, said that he's recently been thinking about the verse in the Bible that says, when two or three people are gathered in his name, Jesus says he is with them (Matthew 18:20).

He said that he's been thinking that in that case, he wants to get together more often with other Christians; not just to get together, but "in his name," which is a different thing, because he wants to experience God.

And I shared my experience of intimacy with God, through an awareness of God's pleasure at giving gifts perfectly fitted; like a lover giving his beloved a gift that he has carefully chosen, so personal and intimate that part of the delight in receiving them is that very fact. I have experienced this on several occasions and I treasure each of those memories.

I thought about the day last week when I had been at the funeral of my friend Irene's grandmother on Birchmount Road, in Scarborough. Several of our coworkers were there too.

After the funeral several of us were chatting in the foyer of the funeral home when someone's phone rang, and Paul's name came up on the screen. Paul, who works for the same organization, had meetings in the city that day and was not able to be at the funeral.

My colleague answered the phone, but it wasn't Paul. The person on the other end wanted to know if the man who answered the phone, knew the guy whose phone it was, because he had just found it at Spadina and Bloor and called the number of the last person Paul had talked to through the number stored in the memory.

Paul lost his Blackberry at Spadina and Bloor. Not only did someone find it and actually want to return it, but the last person Paul had called was the person standing right beside me in the foyer of the funeral home. And that person said that had any name other than Paul's come up on his phone at that moment, he would not have answered it.

Mohammed, the man who found the phone, was on his way to Scarborough, where he lived, and where I was, and I was able to arrange to meet him within ten minutes of leaving the funeral, at a local coffee shop. There this nice, smiling man safely delivered Paul's Blackberry to me.

Someone said tonight that people often speak of spending "quality time" with their children, but all children want is "time." He said that God wants our time too, in order for us to have the intimate relationship that he pursues us with.

Intimate relationship with the infinite, personal God... sometimes we don't have to look so far to see the evidence and the possibility.

Nonna's Soup

2008-07-28T22:42:00.006-04:00

"Would you like some of Nonna's soup sweetie?" I asked. His big brown eyes seemed a little larger than usual due to two days of not eating. A high fever yesterday with almost no appetite, and an upset tummy today had left him feeling pretty peaked.

Now at the thought of the salty chicken broth, his eyes brightened and he nodded.

Our freezer is usually laden with plastic tubs filled with chicken broth, minestrone and various types of pasta sauces. Every time we visit Frank's Mom (Ma, as we call her) we come home with bags of these frozen love offerings, along with the miscellaneous fruits, juices, cookies and fruilano cheese bricks. Essentially, we are spoiled rotten. But it's on these days when I'm taking out chicken and go to separate one thigh from the others in order to make broth for Mikey, that I see the tubs and audibly sigh "Thanks Ma, that was good timing". Now I don't have to make the broth, and there will be extra chicken for dinner.

There was a day, years ago when I spurned these gifts. I didn't understand, and much hurt occurred in our relationship. I felt invaded by my matriarchal, Italian mother in law who was determined to love me and mine as her mother had loved her. But coming from a strongly independent English family I was overwhelmed and offended at her intrusive ways.

Friends would often look at me when I shared my struggle and ask what was wrong with me. "Your mother in law wants to make food for you and clean your house, what's your problem? Send her to me...I'll take the help". But for me the help felt pushy and judgmental.

Now, years later God has worked deeply in both of us. I've even come to the place of humbling where I've let her know that she is one of my mentors. She is strong, willful and opinionated. But she is also fiercely committed to loving Jesus and her family and for that matter, everyone she meets. She has gentled over the years and learned how to manage her headstrong, opinionated daughter in law.

At 70 years, she isn't as strong as she used to be, but there's still a fire in those dark eyes and a determination to give and serve whatever the circumstances. Now, as she walks through cancer with her husband, helps him however she can, diligently reads God's Word to him, encourages him, looks after him, I can hear her saying on the phone "God knows. I hope for the best for him, but God knows what will happen". Her faith is in God's goodness. She is willing to walk through the valley of the shadow of death if that is where they must go, to embrace suffering as Jesus did, not to spurn it.

I love this woman and all she has come to mean to me over the last 20 years. Today it's all about the chicken soup, but there's so much more.

"but Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me." Ruth 1:16-18

Thank you Father for my mother in law who is family to me. Though there have been times of separation, I know that this is a life long relationship to celebrate and treasure.

Storing Up Treasures In Heaven

2008-07-27T18:59:00.005-04:00

I broke into a jog , my oldest daughter pacing beside me on her bike. Two of my other children were quite a ways ahead, one weaving back and forth and the other stooped, picking raspberries with his bike parked beside him. Hannah said, "I wish we weren't going home today, Mom."

"I know," I acknowledged her grief at the end of our vacation. Trying to avoid the lecture about we've been fortunate to have four weeks I say instead, "We've had a lot of fun. These four weeks have gone fast, eh?"

She then said, "I'm looking forward to seeing my room again and our house."

We smiled at one another and she reminds, "We come back for the long week-end in five sleeps."

I had purposely planned this last six and a half km on the Tay Shore Trail as an interlude in the pack-up. There's always such mixed emotions at the end of our time at the cottage. We pack up memories as we fold towels, tuck away bathing suits, store away beach toys, and paddles. We sweep out the cottage and check for any treasures left behind. We know we'll be back for more good times on Georgian Bay. We take with us grateful hearts for so many experiences shared together. We're thankful for this place to marvel at God's creation and build family memories. And we are thankful for home and friends and the rhythms of our small town life.

I look forward to drinking water from the tap, a dishwasher, washing machine and a full-fledged shower. The older I get, the more I enjoy my creature-comforts. I look forward to seeing friends again and I missed full access to my blog friends and regularly reading, "Whateverhesays" and "Holy Experience". We missed worshipping at Faith Community Church in Alliston although we are blessed by those we fellowship with at Christ Church in Waubaushene.

The last of the bins, and full-laundry baskets were packed in the Suburban and then they came over - our dear cottage friends, the Martin's. How is it that hearts connect, bond, and rejoice together in any place?

I looked at Paul, all 6'8" of him. He and I played together as children. We water-skiied across the bay, sunk his "Li'l Skipper, an old white row boat, and jumped off the gunwales of our cedar-strip canoe. He stood there laughing with his dear wife, Susan and their 4 children. Easy chatter and some tears as we talk of his mom, a valiant widow and his dad who left this earth a year ago, February. Laughter returns as one of his daughters hides behind Hannah. The girls wonder if maybe no one would notice if we gained another girl and the two could continue playing into the next week.
I'm proud of my pastor-friend and his sweet wife. Only God in His goodness and mercy and love could have the two of us find Himself in separate journeys, in separate places, and have us re-unite as brothers and sisters in Christ. I am so grateful that we can share some of our earthly journey and our eternity together. Treasures to be sure.

We say our good-byes to them and resume cleaning and packing, the twins already buckled in their car seats are contentedly waiting for our trip home.

Padlocks are on the boathouse, pump box, and our new deck box and we close the windows and lock up the cottage door. I gaze at the lake, making a mental picture of the view that has been so dear to me. My husband hops into the Honda and I climb up into the Suburban. We are homeward bound....

Our earthly journey is fleeting. The gifts God gives as we sojourn here cannot be compared with the treasures to be received when we reach our Heavenly Home.

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal, But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, their will your heart be also." Matthew 6:19-21 NASV

Small Powerful Choices

2008-07-26T22:36:00.003-04:00

Each day is a series of small choices that seem insignificant at the moment, but which actually affect not just us but those with whom we connect, and maybe those with whom they connect.

I'm thinking of the choice at any given moment, between thinking negatively, speakng a word of criticism or complaint; or taking the road of gratitude and appreciation.

What started me thinking about this was an interview I heard on the radio this week. A comedian was the guest and I admired the way he managed to keep the interview positive. He said that he gets most of his material from reflecting on our culture, in which most of us have no idea how good we have it and tries to point that out by finding humour in the ludicrous; for example, someone getting frustrated by the fact that a computer takes 12 seconds to boot up, or how we have lengthy deliberations over where to eat out; "We had pizza yesterday, I don't want to have it again, let's have Chinese; no, let's have Greek, I feel like Greek tonight."

Pete called this morning and asked, "How are things Mom?" There was a split second when I had a choice and this time I made the right one; "this time" because so often I don't. It felt good to have chosen laughter and lightheartedness and to bless his weekend with a few endorphins released into his system. Apparently endorphins are more powerful than morphine and give an overall sense of well being.

There is a Facebook group that I stumbled upon, called, The Optimistic and Enthusiastic. Today this message was posted there"

Why Think Positively? All of our feelings, beliefs and knowledge are based on our internal thoughts, both conscious and subconscious. We are in control, whether we know it or not. Aim high and do your best We can be positive or negative, enthusiastic or dull, active or passive. The biggest difference between people is their attitudes. For some, learning is enjoyable and exciting. For others, learning is a drudgery. For many, learning is just okay, something required on the road to a job.

In the same vein, I read Psalm 106 today, in which the anonymous psalmist repents on behalf of himself and his people for a lack of gratitude and appreciation for all that God has done and exhorts us to praise God.

Psalm 106:1 (New International Version)
1 Praise the LORD.
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;
his love endures forever.

6 We have sinned, even as our fathers did;
we have done wrong and acted wickedly.
7 When our fathers were in Egypt,
they gave no thought to your miracles;
they did not remember your many kindnesses,
and they rebelled by the sea, the Red Sea.
.
13 ...they soon forgot what he had done
and did not wait for his counsel.

When we notice, focus on and discuss the negative, we lose joy and spread gloom. It is sin, for we have so much to be grateful for. So, as I start a new day tomorrow, I will aim to bring joy to those I am with, and be grateful.

48 Praise be to the LORD, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.
Let all the people say, "Amen!"
Praise the LORD.

Three Red Suitcases, Right on Time

2008-07-25T21:34:00.004-04:00

As usual, of a Friday evening, I am sitting here with no idea what I'm going to write for the blog. My mind and my heart gently slip into free fall as my fingers fly over the keyboard. Together, we'll see what emerges...

I'm on vacation. Ahhh! Two glorious weeks of rest and refreshment. We're headed for Windsor tomorrow to see my dad, and then on Sunday early, we'll be on our way to Nova Scotia. The plan is to have very few plans. We'll drive as long as we feel like driving, cycle when we feel like cycling (we're taking our bikes) and we'll stop when we feel like stopping. We're taking 17 year 0ld Jorie along (she's my favourite kid, but then you'll hear me say that about ALL my kids) and this will likely be our last family vacation with her. In fact, this could be our last family vacation altogether, as, comparatively speaking, we are perched very close to the edge now of becoming empty nesters. Our next vacation, and for the first time since 1973 when we were expecting Daniel, our first child, will likely be just the two of us.

This week has been a one of gentle reminders, one after another, of God's love toward us and a perfect fitting together of circumstances that makes me know that he still has a plan for our lives and that he is in perfect control.

It's been a long hard week at work. One of getting ready for an exhaustive program audit and then trying to bring the chaos that was left of my office into some kind of order for those who will watch over my program while I am away. I left piles, and notes, and lists, and now, though I love my job, it is demanding and fraught with crises, so thankfully, it is that time of year to forget it all. For two precious weeks of reconnecting with my husband and youngest daughter. And through the wonders of his creation, God himself.

There are so many litttle ways that God expresses his love for us, if our eyes are open and we are watching. Just one example this week...

Months ago, Ron gave me a little catalogue and asked me to pick out the award he was to receive for 10 years of service to the surveying and engineering firm where he works. I pored over the offerings on the ten year pages. There were watches, gold necklaces, rings, a fancy clock, Inuit sculptures, and other objects d'art. But nothing that quite struck my fancy. But there was a set of luggage and after much discussion with him and deliberation over whether this would be the best choice, we finally ordered it. And then promptly forgot all about it.

Yesterday, in the Mississauga office where he now works, his boss received a call from the head office in Markham. There was a set of luggage there with Ron's name on it.

"Why he's going on vacation tomorrow!" his boss said.

"Then we'll courier it right over there today."

This evening, at the beginning of our vacation, the first we've taken together in a very long time, Ron walked in with a lovely set of soft sided, nesting, luggage, bright red. Bright shiny new. Empty and ready to fill. The timing was impeccable.

That, don't you think, is evidence of God's hand in our lives? His way of saying, "Yes, my children, you are right on schedule in walking out the plan I have for your lives"?

I think so. And what a way to live!

Friends Face to Face

2008-07-24T23:17:00.005-04:00

On May 20th 2007, I wrote a blog post entitled, Facebook Holdout, all about my resistance to the social networking phenomenon sweeping the nation at the time.

I said that I was not joining; no way Jose! I was not going to jump on this bandwagon, for various well thought out reasons. I already had sufficient internet addictions and besides, I am a bit of a Luddite. I'm a few years behind most others when it comes to technology and gadgets. If not for Paul I would not even have a dishwasher or microwave.

It was about two weeks ago that my friend Johanne asked me to join Facebook as part of a group of writers for her newspaper, and, only to oblige her, I did. For the first day or so I added the bare minimum of information and then I began to check out the potential “friends” already on Facebook. At 58 I found myself asking people if they would be my friends and waiting, with bated breath, for them to confirm if they would. Oh, the mortification of rejection!

I began to get “friend invitations.” One or two I didn’t immediately know. What to do? Become friends with a stranger? It was strangely tempting. On closer examination I realized that I did know them; distantly, but I knew them. Of course I would be their friend.

All of this reminded me of the Victorian novels I read as a child, where to be acknowledged, or “known,” meant something socially, depending on who was doing the “knowing.” The dreaded snub, or, as it was often put, the “cut,” was social disaster and a way of delivering a cruel blow to the victim.

Peter said that Paul did not confirm him as a friend, and he had to say to him, “Come on, you are my dad, you have to say you know me,” or something to that effect.

On Facebook people can write their “Status,” which doesn’t tell you if they are dead or alive; or a prince or duke, but simply what they are doing at the exact moment of writing.

Brenda’s Facebook status recently announced that she was, “ruthlessly editing her friends list.” Friends actually heaved sighs of relief at surviving the “cut.” Can you imagine? "Edited out" of a friends list? Ouch!

“Well, it had to be done,” said Brenda, pragmatically. Apparently she was tired of talking to non-friends, whom she had accepted as friends. Go figure!

I am surprised at how much fun I’ve had with Facebook . I have discovered things about people I go to church with and the young people in my life, that I may never have known. My godson, Jacob, is actually “Jake,” on his Facebook page. Who knew? I didn't, and neither did Frances, his mom! Now that I know, I will honour his preference.

Facebook has helped me see the young people I know, as real people, more fully rounded, with joys and sorrows that they actually write about. I can find out what they care about and enjoy. In person most young people tend to say so little, especially to older folks.

I enjoy looking at other people’s photos on their sites. It was cool seeing my friend Rodney’s photos of his trip to Germany last year. I know Rodney from church and would never have seen those normally but it showed me another dimension of his life.

I can see that there is a vortex to fall into and it would be so easy to get lost in Facebook-land. But I look upon it as getting to know people better, and hey, if people are communicating, that has to be a good thing.

Carole Elefant at Legal Blog Watch; quoted on Wise Law Blog, March 11, 2008, says that:
“44% of employers use social networking sites to examine the profiles of job candidates, and 39% have looked up the profile of a current employee."

That is a bit scary and I wonder how many people think about that possibility?

Still, two weeks into FB (see, I know to call it FB), I found myself at a table today with a group of coworkers, announcing, “Hey, I’m on Facebook; are any of you? Do you want to be my According to the article, "friends?” A silent Facebooker gathers no friends after all.

Proverbs 18:24 (New King James Version)
24 A man who has friends must himself be friendly,
But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

What's going on, Lord?

2008-07-23T03:22:00.001-04:00

Do you ever feel like Jeremiah? You know – gloomy, negative, whatever, the way you are when people say “Don’t be a Jeremiah.” I can feel like him, but more like he might have felt when he was young, when God told him there were great things for him to do. God has often told me that, and then soon after I have found myself in another situation where I felt like a child – clueless, inept, stupid. And then I have begun to question God’s calling on my life, and His purposes in the present moment.

Not only that, but there have been times when not only did I feel all of those things, but others were actively treating me accordingly, and, even worse, treating me as if I was following a path that was directly contrary to God’s will and call to holiness.

There was one such time many years ago when God set the record straight for me. I was being prayed over by some very zealous Christians whom I had been associated with in their community and had found the situation very destructive and not something I could continue to endure anymore. But I had chosen to remain in their church and try to keep fellowship with them. Somehow we ended up, once again, in a prayer session focused on me, and they actually had me on the floor, bent over, with my head curled into my arms and my knees all bent under me.

As their “prayers” continued over my body I withdrew deep into my spirit. God was speaking to me in an incredible way. He was saying that what they were praying was meaningless and irrelevant. What mattered was His calling on my life, and that I must listen to that, listen to His voice only, and ignore these other voices. He would tell me what I was to heed.

And then He sang this song to me, deep within my being. I had learned it several years before, but this time He sang it just for me and it was as if He was saying to me: “These words are for you, Meg, just as they were for Jeremiah when he felt so out of his depth. Don’t be afraid and don’t worry. My plans for your life are what matter, whatever other Christians think of you and whatever they say. What matters is what I say to you.”

This was the song. It is based on the call of Jeremiah from the first chapter of that book of the Old Testament.

Oh the Word of My Lord

Chorus:
O the word of my Lord
Deep within my being
O the word of my Lord
You have filled my mind

Verse 1
Before I formed you in the womb
I knew you through and through
I chose you to be mine
Before you left your mother's side
I called you my child
To be my sign

Verse 2
I know that you are very young
But I will make you strong
I'll fill you with My word
And you will travel through the land
Fulfilling My command
Which you have heard

Verse 3
And ev'rywhere you are to go
My hand will follow you
You will not be alone
In all the danger that you fear
You'll find Me very near
Your words My own

Verse 4
With all My strength
You will be filled
You will destroy and build
For that is My design
You will create and overthrow
Reap harvests I will sow
Your word is Mine

CCLI Song #740510
© 1978 Kevin Mayhew Ltd
Damian Lundy

After that evening I walked freer of the opinions of those Christians, and, while continuing to remain in their church, did not worry about what they thought of me. I continued on my own journey with the Lord, which led me to far greater exploits than they had imagined for me. That journey continues today, and, every so often, when I can get bogged down by worrying about what others think, or wondering about how what is happening in the present moment relates to the big picture God has shown me, I remember that evening on the floor, and God’s song deep within my heart.

I pray that you will be encouraged to hear God’s word for you alone, deep inside of you, today.

The Life-giving Vine

2008-07-22T22:29:00.002-04:00

John 15:5-8 (New International Version)
5"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you. 8This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

The vine grew into the distance horizontally, seeming to go on forever. Many branches sprouted from it, strong and supple, with spiky, vibrant green leaves. Some bore tiny green or yellow green flowers, while others had clusters of the tiny berries that would grow into grapes.
On the ground, scattered at the base of the vines, lay branches that seemed to have fallen or been broken off, perhaps by the wind.

Those that had recently become detached still appeared to be alive, but as the leaves used up the residual life sap within the branch, the leaves became limp, dull and lifeless. The branches followed the leaves, soon becoming brittle, dry and easily broken. Soon the gardener would soon come to gather them up and burn them with other garden debris.

This picture came into my mind as I prayed one morning recently; a visual image of the powerful metaphor for spiritual life used in the Bible. I know it to be true and yet often I am dangerously close to falling off the vine.

Isn’t knowing the truth of a principle and then not allowing it to live in you, to be like the man spoken of in chapter one of the book of James?

James 1:22-25 (New Living Translation)
22 But don’t just listen to God’s word. You must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves. 23 For if you listen to the word and don’t obey, it is like glancing at your face in a mirror. 24 You see yourself, walk away, and forget what you look like. 25 But if you look carefully into the perfect law that sets you free, and if you do what it says and don’t forget what you heard, then God will bless you for doing it.

This morning, as we began our day, Paul prayed, “Sometimes we feel as though we don’t accomplish much, and then we realize we’ve been relying on our own strength. Thank you that ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’ “

I don’t want to be a useless, limp, disconnected branch. I want to be fruitful and healthy. There is only one way and no short cut; remaining in The Vine, the source of life.

Psalm 92:12-14 (New International Version)
12 The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,
they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon;
13 planted in the house of the LORD,
they will flourish in the courts of our God.
14 They will still bear fruit in old age,
they will stay fresh and green,

Sisters, Cousins and Conversations

2008-07-21T21:54:00.002-04:00

We had a wonderful weekend away, my Becca and I, at Auntie Miki’s house. My sister-in-law and her two young daughters had invited us over while my brother Geoff was off gigging with his band, so we happily went.
Three girls aged 7, 8 and 9 giggled and played their way through almost 48 hours of cousinly fun. They sketched using new art supplies, swam and splashed in the back yard pool ‘til they were chilled and starving, watched movies, went for walks and whispered loudly far too late into the night.

Miki and I also had a special, sharing, sisterly time. She is not my little sister by birth, but most certainly is my sister. The word in-law just doesn’t apply for the relationship she has with our family. I couldn’t have picked a better bride for my brother if he’d asked, which of course he never would, being a guy and all. But he did bring her over to our apartment in Toronto when they were dating. We were smitten with her right from the start.
So we chatted long, staying up ‘til our usual 2am, finally settling down to sleep at about 2:30am. Tired the next day?…of course, but it was worth it.
We cover so much ground in our conversations, everything from parenting to aging parents, religious views to movies, music and what God thinks about dating and mate selection.
It’s rich conversation. I think we both leave with much to ponder and learn from each other.

Miki is a special gift to her family and ours. She is gentle, but not a push over. She is steady, but not without feelings, rich in both compassion and passion. She loves God and others, but won’t be pigeonholed and is quick to ask ‘why’. She’s a songbird who works out pain and questions on her guitar with a note pad close by. She is faithful when others walk away and I see Jesus in her.

We don’t always agree, but we grow and listen, stretch and reach for the truth of God as we share.

I’m so glad we can do this.

My long, lanky brother arrived home around 1pm on Sunday. After chatting for a bit Becca and I packed up for the long drive home. Hugs and kisses all around and we were on the road.

It was a good time, refreshing for all.

You can check out Miki on her own myspace at:

http://www.myspace.com/mirelakovacevicsmith (note: you can copy and paste this address to your Google list. I'm still learning how to use the 'link' feature)

Her song "Dream Lullaby" is about her children and is beautiful. The other two are love songs. Hope you check them out.
Enjoy!

Dear Father God,
I thank you for my family, for a sister to share with this weekend, who desires to know the real truth, and who shares her gifts so liberally, who loves people so freely as they pass by her step.
Bless her and her family each day as they journey toward You. Keep them under the shadow of your wings. Strengthen her each day for the tasks you have for her and give her Your joy in all her doings.
Thank you for bringing her to us. I am so blessed.
In Jesus Name

joy in casting all our cares upon Him

2008-07-21T07:04:00.002-04:00

Standing at my sorting counter hour after hour gives me lots of opportunity to think, pray, and yes, worry. So usually what I do when that happens is remember the sweet words of this chorus:

I cast all my cares upon you.
I lay all of my burdens down at your feet.
Anytime I don't know what I'm to do
I just cast all my cares upon you.

So that is what I offer to you this morning - the same words I sing to myself. Of course they are so simple, but they are so true, and they are the ONLY WAY to deal with our stuff, your stuff, anyone's stuff. Bring it in prayer to Him, and try to let it go, again and again.

He Makes All Things Beautiful...

2008-07-20T13:53:00.006-04:00

Waves crest and form. Gulls dip and soar, riding on the wind with outstretched wings. Streamers and skiffs of white scud across the blue washed sky. Trees in various shades of green span the horizon. Idyllic. Serene. Flawless. And to this perfect beauty, God adds man.

Cabin cruisers across the bay navigate the channel towards Midland or Beausoleil Island. Over at the mouth of Sturgeon River a Sea Doo pulls a child water-skiing in calmer waters. I hear its engine surge and ebb. Sails of white and red and yellow, billow and snap in the foreground. From a distance it all is beautiful. But there is the heart and mind of man, tarnished by sin.

I sit on the deck, drinking in the beauty and serenity of my surroundings. I need the cleansing that only He can give. In spite of the beauty around me, I know I need His beauty inside me. I am grateful for this interlude in family chaos and enjoy the opportunity for quiet reflection. A time to come before Him. I call out, like David, to our loving Father God,

"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from Thy presence, And do not take Thy Holy Spirit from me, Restore to me the joy of Thy salvation, And sustain me with a willing spirit...Psalm 51:10-12 NASV

I am grateful for the tuth of David's words, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise." Psalm 51:17 NASV

Over and over these past few weeks I am humbled by a God who's designed so much beauty, resplendent in detail. A God who created us, male and female, in His own image and for His glory. I marvel at He who loves us so. We who fail, who sin, who constantly fall short. We who live messy lives, who weave tangled webs, who struggle, who seek, who cry out again and again. And He hears our cry. Our Father hears the words we cannot speak. He knows the cry of our heart. He loves, He forgives, and He pours fresh grace into our lives. His grace is enough. It falls like rain. His mercies are new every morning. We praise Him, we lift up our voice and He finds pleasure in what He has made. In our frailty, He empowers us by residing in our hearts. He creates our thirst for Himself. It is inconceivable and indescribable. We long to be holy because He is holy, solely because He has ordained it to be so.

Peter encouraged, "Grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord; seeing that His divine power has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness, through the true knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and excellence." 2 Peter 2-3 NASV

Peter then exhorts us to apply all diligence, in our faith to various qualities. He names them in an order that we add to, one at a time. He names moral excellence, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness, and love.

Then Simon Peter tells how the qualities make us useful for God's kingdom and how they bear fruit in the true knowledge of Jesus Christ.

"For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they render you neither useless nor unfruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." 2 Peter 1:8 NASV

Heavenly Father, we want to be fruitful in the true knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. We want to reflect the image of You who has created us. We want our beauty to blend with the natural surroundings, rather than contrast. Like the gull, we long to dip and soar with outstretched wings. Thank you for calling us to holiness.

The Adventure of Following God

2008-07-19T23:12:00.009-04:00

A few days ago I sat on the couch in our green room, with two of my granddaughters, discussing the reflections at the end of a story from Parables from the Pond. Some creatures from the pond had shown courage and kindness, extending their circle of friendship and trust. It wasn't hard for them to relate the story to their grandfather's winter trip north to a reservation to help a people in desperate need of both help and friendship.

Last November, Dave our pastor, and Fernando, a Trinidadian friend, drove with Paul, 20 hours north through blinding snow to Mishkeegogamang, an hour from Pickle Lake. They went to take food, winter coats for the children, and toys and sports equipment.When they all arrived home safely, I heaved a sigh of relief.

But Paul was already planning the next trip in August.The months since November have flown by. Other pressures consumed Paul's energy and time, he had little time or ability to focus on the logistics of a larger missions trip. Honestly, I worried about it. We aren't a slick, well oiled machine, or a group that has done this before.

But people signed up from our church and others, giving up summer vacation time and raising their own support to go, because they heard God say, "Go."

So tonight, with just two weeks to go to the trip we had a barbecue in our backyard, to pin down details.

As I looked at the group of people who gathered, I thought, "Only God." For the group that is going includes people of Chinese, African, Caucasian and First Nations descent.

Under the summer evening sky we prayed, then talked, and ate; and saw things come together, with a lot of laughter.

One of the team is a retired nurse, and although she spent her career in obstetrics, she'll take care of First Aid. The guys coordinated tools so as not to bring duplicates. One of them is even bringing his buzz saw and they decided that everyone should bring a "personal hammer," the image of which made me laugh.

Pastor Dave issued strict instructions about personal luggage limits, and Treneta, a beautiful First Nations woman, who does not look like the camping type, said with a smile that the only suitcase she owns is large. Jake only has a big tent. These things take sorting out when you have 12 people and luggage to fit into a van and a truck.

What about laundry? "Pickle Lake," said Pastor Dave, which made us laugh again.

Treneta did training on cultural sensitivity and spiritual preparation.

The sun was going down when we stood together to pray again, this time holding hands.

It feels as if in our weakness and inadequacy, God is showing himself strong and bringing together a swat team that will express his love to the people of Mish.

Ephesians 3:20-21 (New International Version)

20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

A Life Framed by Two.

2008-07-18T20:05:00.002-04:00

When I read the letter aloud to her she said, "Wha's at mean, dear?"

"Fanny", I replied, "It means you have a family, and they're looking for you!"

She clasped her hands together in a certain gesture of excitement and delight which I have never seen, not in the ten years we have been friends.

"Family! I have a family!" she chortled through her laughter. And she didn't stop laughing for a full five minutes. I can't imagine what it must be like to find out that the family you thought was "lost" for many, many years, has suddenly been found.

"Wha's her name, dear?" she asked.

"Who?" I said, in a feeble attempt at a tease.

"My sister."

"Marian," I said. "Your sister's name is Marian. And your niece's name is Pam."

"Mary" she said, not able for some reason to form the last syllable. "Mary," she repeated. "I haf a sister named Mary."

"That's right, Fanny" I rejoiced with her. "You have a family"

"I have a family."

"Who has a family?" I would ask her over and over again that evening.

"Fanny does," she would reply with a self-satisfied smile. "Fanny does."

It's something she has been waiting to hear all of her life. She has never given up hope, but has told me many times, many times that she has a family. She just didn't know "where".

Although the details of her past are sketchy at best, Fanny's parents were likely told what most parents of developmentally delayed children were advised to do in her day. "The best thing you can for this child and for your family, is to put her in an institution and forget you ever had her. She will be looked after and it is what is best for her and for the rest of your family." Although there were many good things that happened in those institutions, and some good people who were caregivers there, they were largely dark places and a blight on our history as a society. In 1997, Fanny was set free from the institution, choosing to move along with her best friend, to a group home in Barrie when that option finally became available. Now in declining health, and her best friend Rosie having passed away, she is in a nursing home not far from where I live. We are fast friends and watch out for each other, but it's not the same as being related by blood and knowing your roots - where you came from and who you belong to. It’s not like knowing somewhat of the why of who you are and how you came to be.

Meanwhile Fanny has been waiting these 70 years. She's never quite given up hope.

It was her birthday on Saturday. I bought a pile of gifts. A new baby doll, a few t-shirts, some cough candies and a picture frame.

The frame is the kind that is quite trendy these days. It has a place for several photographs and then a large label across the middle that says, "Friends".

"This is for your friends", I told her. "Where are you going to put me?" She pointed to a spot in the picture frame where she was going to put a photo of me and then told me which of her other friends' photos she was going to put in the other places.

I handed her my last gift. "This is something you've never needed before, Fanny. But you'll need it now..."

When she opened it, she found another picture frame almost identical to the first. "What's it say?" she asked, pointing to the word in the frame.

"It says "FAMILY"", I told her, fighting to keep tears from welling up in my eyes. "The other one is for pictures of your friends, but you’re going to need this one for pictures of your family."

She listened carefully, paused for a moment, and then she started to cry. I put an arm around her, but there was no need to comfort. They were tears of the purest joy.

Welcome home, Fanny. We are all so glad you have finally, finally found your family. Psalm 68: 6 says: God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing. You have experienced both of these joys in your life - from the institution you have been set free, and now - joy of joys - you have found your family.

(Note: A special thank you to all the writers and readers of this blog who have had a part in this! Some of you were directly involved in Fanny's emancipation from institutional life, and others worked hard, sending out inquiries about her family. Others have supported, cheered, and prayed along the way. God bless you all. And celebrate! This is your moment, too!)

His Eye

2008-07-17T22:31:00.005-04:00

Luke 12:6-7 (New Living Translation)
New Living Translation (NLT)
6 “What is the price of five sparrows—two copper coins? Yet God does not forget a single one of them. 7 And the very hairs on your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.

We run out into heavy heat of the summer evening, two girls on bikes, one dog and me.

They are briefed before we set out; stay close to the grass at the side of the road; stop and wait at every intersection; slow down well ahead of a planned stop--the list goes on--you get the picture. Even which child will be the lead rider and at what point the other will take the lead is decided. I have learned that these things are best talked about before we set out.

We set out.

Molson trots beside me but we both try hard to keep up with the girls ahead of us and he stops only for the most irresistable of odours tonight. He is torn between two opposite impulses; to walk obediently beside me and his need to watch over the girls ahead.

We run past our neighbour putting out his blue boxes. He recently told me of his own beloved dog who died; a golden named Gatesby, and I call out to him panting, "Two granddaughters and a dog tonight," and he laughs and says that I have my hands full.

Molson and I keep our eyes on them, me shouting out intructions, "Victoria, slow down." Victoria is quick of mind and action and her impulsivity cannot be underestimated.

They listen well as I call out to them. I think of how overwhelmingly I love them.

Molson's tongue lolls out from the side of his mouth, flapping like red flag in time with his steps. In the middle of his tongue is a black birthmark.

We pass long, treed lawns stretching out behind houses; country summer backyards with tire swings and play houses and pools.

Rocking chairs and comfortable cushioned chairs sit invitingly on front porches, surrounded by flower beds in glorious, riotous, full bloom. The richly vegetative smell of fresh mown grass hangs in the still air.

Molson and I notice many things along the way, but never lose sight of the girls just ahead of us.

And I think of who watches me, and you too. There is no comparison with his love, vigilance and care on our behalf.

Jesus, truth in each circumstance

2008-07-16T06:10:00.002-04:00

“Jesus, truth in each circumstance”.

This line is from a popular and powerful song by Brian Doerksen called “Hope of the Nations.” If you go to his website, http://www.briandoerksen.com/, you can read the story behind the song and see how much his composing of it came from God’s leading and in connection with events in history, most particularly Sept. 11th. It was written as a song of hope, and so it is.

Jesus, hope of the nations
Jesus, comfort for all who mourn
You are the source of heaven’s hope on earth

Jesus, light in the darkness
Jesus, truth in each circumstance
You are the source of heaven’s light on earth

In history, You lived and died,
You broke the chains, You rose to life

You are the hope, living in us
You are the Rock, in whom we trust
You are the light
Shining for all the world to see

You rose from the dead, conquering fear
Our Prince of Peace, drawing us near
Jesus our hope
Living for all who will receive
Lord we believe!

A real and living hope is based on Jesus and the reality of His life and death and resurrection.

As I ponder the meaning behind this phrase that fascinates me most, “Jesus, truth in each circumstance”, the bottom line would be to say that Jesus is the source of truth in each circumstance, just as He is source of hope in those circumstances, and the source of light in the world, etc.

“For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible…all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. “(Colossians 1: 16-17)

Looking with the eyes of faith and discernment, with “spiritual eyes”, we can see circumstances from God’s perspective. We find the truth that Jesus reveals to us about those circumstances. Yes, I am sure this is true. But like so many words of scripture, when words are written with divine inspiration they can have many levels of meaning.

I cannot help but see more in these words. I see that the truth that we see in circumstances, even “human” truth, is God’s truth, a kind of incarnated truth, as Jesus is God incarnate. Jesus is truth: truth is Jesus. Can we say that the way we say that God is love, and those who dwell in love, dwell in God?. Can we say also that somehow those who dwell in truth, dwell in Jesus?

I appreciated teaching in my counselling course that helped us interface between psychology and theology, with the foundation being a belief that “all truth is God’s truth”. There are books written about this, and I won’t try to go into their arguments here or today. But I come with that conviction to this line in the song, as well as the sense deep within my spirit that there are many levels of truth in that line.

It seems to me that the truth we come to see in each circumstance is ultimately rooted in Jesus, and that coming to greater understanding of truth in every situation can lead us closer to Him. That would surely be God’s purpose, but of course the choice is ours.
If spiritual truth for us always has to be wrapped up in religious language then we may miss what God is trying to show us. I have found that my study of human truth by looking at reality through a counselling focused lens has brought me closer to God and made me more excited about His sovereignty and power.

Through this lens I speak of we can learn to see “what happens when what happens”. Instead of focusing on individual people and trying to figure them out in all their facets we can look at the spaces between them and others, really meaning we can look at the truth in their circumstances and through that come to greater understanding of the people themselves. As we contextualize and go bigger and bigger in our looking at situations and circumstances, we get more and more truth. Surely God is in that big context of truth.

This is just a taste of what is possible when we are open to all that God would like to show us. Let us always believe that Jesus, through the Holy Trinity creating the universe, author of all truth, can reveal truth in each and every circumstance to us.

May He do so for us, as we trust Him to lead and teach us today.