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Archive for the ‘GOD’ Category

After about nine months of complaining about monsoons, and living on the Wet Coast, Mother Nature has finally given birth to the best season of the year … summer.

I love summer! The sun and the break from work, school, after-school activities, and … SCHEDULE make me smile every day. I awake each day ready smiling, and lay my head on my pillow at night muttering (with a smile across my face), “hubby, have I told you that I love summer?”

I feel refreshed by the change of pace. I feel energized by the solar rays casting down from heaven, just for me! I feel unhurried, unencumbered (by dreadful head to toe covering clothing), and uninhibited by anything. Heck, most days I do not even remember what day it is!

Even our pool (aka the Cesspool) seems to be happier since the sun awoke from it’s   L O N G  winter’s (and spring’s and fall’s) nap.

I am so content with this season, that I could even have been heard humming while cleaning the loo just the other day, while saying to no one, “I love summer!” And you know that the season has gotten to my head when I can clean the porcelain god with a smile on my face.

My son and I have gone for sushi. My eldest daughter and I have had lunch together. I have had coffee with a couple of friends, and even played in our pool a few times. We have had one pool party, a couple of dinner dates in our backyard with friends, and children of all ages over for a dip … complete with the making of many, many, many s’mores (and if you are looking for a good s’more variation, try Nutella instead of chocolate).

Hubby and I cleaned up the garage a bit, and got one of the gates hanging. I started one renovation project, which, as usual, will turn into three, or four, or … But all is well, because summer does not have the same pressures of winter. And really, just having the sun shine makes everything better.

My summer has not even been exciting yet! And yet, every day is fresh, and revitalizing and life-giving. I just hope it doesn’t go too quickly.

See, I can write a post on the weather, and make you wonder if I should get a prescription for Prozac 😉 .

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One of the best lessons I ever learned was from a woman speaking about the Twenty-Third Psalm.

The visuals that she created in my imagination are with me still, and there is not a time when I hear or read that Psalm that the pictures do not resurface in my mind’s eye.

The main point that I took from her beautiful speaking had to do with “the shadow of the valley of death.” Doesn’t that simply sound dreadful? Frightening? Foreboding? Dark? That is what I had always thought … until I heard her speak on this passage.

She described:
– the beautiful coolness, and protection that walking through a shadow on a hot day can provide
– the lush green, and refreshment that come from spending time in a valley

From her description, I am certainly not left with images that are dreadful, frightening, foreboding or dark. I am instead left with images of solace, rest, refreshment, and wonder.

“He makes me lie down …”

We mere humans are not often very wise. We push through the business of life. We equally push through the difficult of life, putting our nose to the grind, working only to get it finished (whatever ‘it’ might be). At times, God needs to force us to lie down. Not as an abusive figure who pushes us to our bed, but as a loving Father who sees our blurry-eyed stare, our inability to think straight, our fatigue that encompasses us from the inside out. And he gently takes our child-like hand, and leads us to a place of perfect rest, where He can watch over and care for our personal needs that we have denied.

“Yea, though I walk …”

It says nothing of running, yet, when we are going through a dark and difficult valley, our greatest desire is to run, so that we can get this season over! This was another of the points of the speaker I had heard, Jill Briscoe. Her point was that if God has allowed us time in the valley of the shadow, then there must be purpose in our placement there. There must be a message, a lesson, a maturing that He desires us to learn. It is not a place to race through, but instead a place in which to have our souls restored, while we are being taken care of by the refreshment, and protection in that valley.

“For You are with me …”

This valley is not a place where God plunks us down, and says, “I’ll be back when you have gotten a sufficient amount of sleep, and learned your lesson.” Instead it is a place where his presence, his comfort accompany us. We do not wander through the valley alone, we are walking through it, while our hand is held by our heavenly Father. Or, like the author of the famous Footprints poem, we are cradled in His arms.

“You anoint my head with oil …”

God is giving us His blessing. This blessing is the inheritance of the eternal valley of refreshment, an eternal Garden of Eden, where we can walk and talk with our Creator.

It is here, in the valley, that we will “dwell in the house of the Lord, forever.”

And that does not sound so dreadful.

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We live in abundance!

The reality of North American life is that we live lives of abundance.

The way we often see it, abundance is about personal prosperity, wealth, and power, and we can credit where we live, resourcefulness, and opportunities.

We can, of course, also credit the God who breathed life into our lungs, and gave us our existence. In John 10:10, Jesus said, “I came that they (that means all people) may have life and have it abundantly.”

There is a dichotomy among Christians regarding abundance. There are those who pray for abundance, and there are those who pray for only their needs to be met.

I recently heard someone speak of abundance, and what he said was, “God calls us to abundant living, not just sufficient. Sufficient says we are expecting (praying) only enough for our needs, but not the abundance that allows us to be God’s hands and feet in providing blessing for others.”

I believe that 2 Corinthians 8:8-15 speaks clearly to God’s intent in proving for us abundantly:

“I am not commanding you to do this (God does not ever force himself, or his ways on us).
But I am testing how genuine your love is (God is always wanting our hearts to be in a place where we do make the best choices) by comparing it with the eagerness of the other churches.
You know the generous grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor,
so that by his poverty he could make you rich (God does not ever ask of us more than He has done, He is the example).
Here is my advice: It would be good for you to finish what you started a year ago. Last year you were the first who wanted to give, and you were the first to begin doing it. Now you should finish what you started
(This speaks to those of us who start good things with great intentions but never fulfilling those intentions).
Let the eagerness you showed in the beginning be matched now by your giving. Give in proportion to what you have
(He’s not saying give beyond your means, or to the point of having nothing left). Whatever you give is acceptable if you give it eagerly (that doesn’t mean to give out of guilt, or duty, but out of your open heart).
And give according to what you have, not what you don’t have (reinforcing what He already said).
Of course, I don’t mean your giving should make life easy for others and hard for yourselves.
I only mean that there should be some equality (our God is the only god who speaks of equality). Right now you have plenty (“right now” … things can change … we can all go from plenty to want, there are no guarantees that what we have today will always be here for us) and can help those who are in need (share our abundance with those who have need). Later, they will have plenty and can share with you when you need it (not if you need it, but when).
In this way, things will be equal. As the Scriptures say,
“Those who gathered a lot had nothing left over,
and those who gathered only a little had enough.”

We DO live in abundance, but it is an abundance from the hand of God, to be shared, so that things might be equal for all.



					

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I miss the thunder and lightening storms that I grew up with on the East Coast.

I miss them from our life in Ottawa as well.

Where I live, on the west coast, we do not get many thunder and lightening storms, and when they happen, they are short lived, and not terribly dramatic.

For many, there would be no ‘missing’ of thunder and lightening storms, but I truly do.

I miss how they made my heart pound.

I miss how they made the house shake. I miss the rumbling of the Earth, the shaking of the pictures on the walls, as the lightening hit nearby.

I miss counting from one clap of thunder until the next … counting how close it might be.

I miss the power going out, and darkness only being distinguished by the eye-blinding flashes of unpredictable lightening.

I miss the way such a storm would draw the whole family together in one room, as if we were together to play a game, or watch a flick, or share a meal.

I miss the story-telling that would come of the togetherness. Stories of storms past. Stories of how we, how other responded to the storms. Stories of those we knew, stories of those we had only heard of. Stories of fear, of bravery, of loss and of delight.

I miss the air cleansing rains that come after the storm. The rains that push the heaviness in the air away, far away. And replace it with a newness that breathing is intentional, so as to cleanse our lungs as well. All that was heavy, all that was life-hindering, all that was suffocating, was changed by the ear-pounding thunder, the earth shaking lightening that scared us to the point of alertness.

And the rains came, and washed all evidence of all that had been stealing our breath, so that we could take joy in the gift of living, the gift of every breath.

I miss it, I miss them, because the shock and fear that they produced reminded me that I am alive.

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I have seen and heard it happen a million times.

A group of church-ie people will be talking together, and someone will enter the room, or a name of someone will come up. The ‘someone’ would be a person of means, a person who is well-to-do, a person of wealth. And the disdainful facial expression of Simon Cowell about to tell a performer his opinion of their lack of talent will get them nowhere in this life, creeps upon someones face.

Now, it is not often that the disdain is specifically pointed towards that person who, unassumingly, walked in the room, but to their wealth.

There will be comments about the person’s new car, or new house, and how very  extravagant they are. There will be talk of the vacations they have been on, of the flashy clothes they wear or the ‘toys’ that their children have. And the entire conversation will be laced with disdain.

Just because a person has ‘wealth’ does not mean that they are holding tightly to their wealth, any more than every ‘poor’ Christian gives all that they posses, down to their last mite penny (but not in Canada, as we are doing away with the penny … does that mean we are cent-less?).

I think we have often focused on the story of Jesus and the rich ruler, but we have failed to read it beyond the self-gratifying surface.

In Mark 10:17-27, the story enfolds …

“As he (that would be Jesus) went out into the street, a man came running up, greeted him with great reverence, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to get eternal life?”

 (note: the man came to Jesus, showing him “reverence” and respect … “good teacher”)

“Jesus said, “Why are you calling me good? No one is good, only God. You know the commandments: Don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t cheat, honor your father and mother.””

(note: Jesus is reminding the man of what every Jewish person would have known at that time)

 “He said, “Teacher, I have—from my youth—kept them all!”

(note: how often have we all thought that we were ‘keeping them all?”)

“Jesus looked him hard in the eye—and loved him!”

(note: Jesus LOVED him … like He loves us all)

“He said, “There’s one thing left: Go sell whatever you own and give it to the poor. All your wealth will then be heavenly wealth. And come follow me.”

(note: Jesus asks for the willingness to do this of all who claim the name of Jesus, and not just the visibly or obviously rich, as later Jesus tells the disciples that this will be asked of all who wish to enter God’s kingdom)

“The man’s face clouded over. This was the last thing he expected to hear, and he walked off with a heavy heart. He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about to let go.”

(note: there is alot to unpack here! The man did not expect to hear what Jesus said, because, until Jesus came, keeping not just the top ten, but the six hundred and thirteen rules of life and living for a good Jew, was what was expectied. He was holding tightly to a lot of things … sort of like us, rich or poor, with our homes, our vehicles, our grandmother’s ring, our photo albums, our video games, etc. Are we willing to “let go” … of everything?)

“Looking at his disciples, Jesus said, “Do you have any idea how difficult it is for people who ‘have it all’ to enter God’s kingdom?” The disciples couldn’t believe what they were hearing, but Jesus kept on: “You can’t imagine how difficult. I’d say it’s easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye than for the rich to get into God’s kingdom.”

(note: we, in North America, have it ALL! Check out this Global Rich Calculator … I am sure that, like myself, you are in the top 1% of the world’s wealthiest people. Maybe, having it all means that we would have a more difficult time letting go of what we hold tightly?)

“That set the disciples back on their heels. “Then who has any chance at all?” they asked. Jesus was blunt: “No chance at all if you think you can pull it off by yourself. Every chance in the world if you let God do it.””

Note: Anyone who is reading this blog post is wealthy … the only chance that any of us has to enter God’s kingdom, is to let God do the work of changing our lives. We just need to be willing to hold what we have loosely in our hands.

And, get rid of that Simon Cowell look of disdain!


					

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Today our ‘kids,’ who are not, will go home to their parents, who are, for the summer.

It has been just over ten months since the brother and sister pair moved into our home, our family, our hearts. Even after all that time, I struggle to ‘name’ our relationship.

Hubby and I house them, feed them, drive them here and there. We assist them with homework, with filling out forms, and with understanding life. We sign permission forms and make appointments. We assign chores to them, and speak to them in our firm parent voices. We applaud their successes, we hug them and hear their tales of woe. We attend their school events and sports games. We host their friends, and take them shopping.

But, we are not their parents.

We are a homestay family.

I really struggle to know what our relationship should be called. I really struggle to know how to be a parenting, non-parent.

As a woman who is a mom, I believe they need a daily mom to care for them. I do not just mean to care for their basic physical needs, like food, and shelter. I mean to care for their hearts, their souls and their minds. I believe they need a middle aged woman to say good morning to them, to drive them to school, to scold them when they take too long to get ready in the morning, to ask how their English test was, to watch them play basketball, and drive them to the mall (and shake in my boots as they enter the mall without an adult with them). I believe they need someone to sit on the sofa and watch a movie with, and one to applaud their piano playing, and their math award, and their homemade sushi, and someone to tell them to clean their room. I believe they need a pat on the back, that unimpressed mother ‘look’, and someone to pray with when life just sucks.

Today, as my two children, who are not, head across the world to their mother, who is, I will bid them adieu. In french, a dieu, meaning ‘to God’, commonly translated, I command you to God.

It is in that word, adieu, that I get an understanding of parenting that goes far beyond just my role as a homestay mom. In that one word, I am reminded that whoever God places in our care, whether they be our biological, adopted or ‘borrowed’ children, we are required, and our children benefit most from our giving them back to God.

And, whatever I am to them, and they to me, today my mother heart will bid them a dieu.

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With hubby off on his East Coast trip, I have re-learned the beauty of sleeping alone in a queen-sized bed, and hubby is going to be shocked with the changes.

Since he has not been here to insinuate that I snore (what a horrible thing to say! He says it is a horrible thing to hear), and therefore I should not sleep on my back, I have become a back sleeper. I have also gotten quite accustomed to sleeping diagonally across the bed.

Since hubby has been gone I have also learned more important things than the benefits of sleeping solo.

I have heard and read 1 Corinthians 7:8 many times, and it has always made me wonder about how Paul’s words  apply to my own life; “to the unmarried and the widows I say that it is good for them to remain single as I am.”

It is intriguing that, in Genesis 2:18, “the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.””

So, which is it? Better to be single, or married?

Well, I think I might have it figured out … (the Christian church accepts no responsibility for the opinions expressed in this grammatically flawed blog, featuring little … NO …  formal theological training upon which to trust what I say to be anywhere near Biblically accurate).

When a woman is married, it is easy, natural to look to her husband as the main one to meet all of her needs. It is a natural thing for a wife (or husband) to look to her spouse as the supplier, sustainer, provider and protector. But, in doing this, what the woman has done is replaced the God, who is all of that, with a human being, who was never intended to be more than a helper, a partner to walk through life’s journey. A person to make the walk easier, less lonely, and to experience human oneness of mind, heart body and spirit.

I think that maybe what Paul is saying is that when we chose to marry, although that pairing up might be what God intended (to defeat loneliness). It also means that our spouse can have God-like expectations heaped on him, or her. And these expectations take our eyes, our focus, off the only true Provider, Supplier, Sustainer, and Protector that we were meant to rely on.

Then, in 1 Corinthians 7:32-35, Paul mixes me up even more!

“I want you to live as free of complications as possible.
When you’re unmarried, you’re free to concentrate on simply pleasing the Master.
Marriage involves you in all the nuts and bolts of domestic life
and in wanting to please your spouse,
leading to so many more demands on your attention.
The time and energy that married people spend on caring for and nurturing each other,
the unmarried can spend in becoming whole and holy instruments of God.
I’m trying to be helpful and make it as easy as possible for you,
not make things harder.
All I want is for you to be able to develop a way of life in which
you can spend plenty of time together with the Master without a lot of distractions.”
So, another challenge of marriage, is that there are more demands on your attention, time and energies, and that means less to spend with God.
It is not that it is a bad thing to spend time “caring for and nurturing each other,” that is something we must do for each other in the marriage relationship, for it to survive. But it does divide our energies and attention more, and in that, our lives become more complicated.
This is why it is so imperative that, when we marry, we do so to one who shares our love for God, so that our marriage can also strengthen and encourage our relationship with our God.
Without hubby here, I have been freed to spend this week with my Maker. Although there are still distractions ALL around me (if Paul had been a mother, he might not have even addressed marriage), I have had more still, quiet moments with my Creator. And it is that which will make me a better wife.
“For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name;
and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer,
the God of the whole earth he is called.”
Isaiah 54:5

					

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I have many memories of spending hours and days in preparation for a long distance trip, by car or plane. Then, just minutes after leaving our home one of our children would cry from from the backseats, “are we there yet?”

It is the most familiar cry of family road trips. It is acceptable, and even humorous to us, because it comes out of the lack of awareness and experience of a child’s understanding of place and time. If our twenty-something year old were to ask that same question, in the same context, it would not be as acceptable or humorous.

That is how it is with how we deem something to be an age-appropriate response or action. We consider the maturity level of the person.

A burp or toot from an infant is ‘cute’ but anything similar from your hubby is inappropriate and distasteful.

We watch our toddler race toy trains, planes and automobiles, encouraging them to ‘go faster’, but a new teenage driver who participates in street racing is ridiculous, and should lose their license.

These are the double standards of moving forward, of maturing, of growing up.

Are we there yet?

It is also our innate, human cry. Our bodies cry it from our first breath, until our final exhale.

We spend most of our lives trying to identify, trying to find ‘there’. We are like the child in the back seat, too young, too immature to understand distance or time. We just know that we are going, and we want to be ‘there’ so that we can discover what it is.

‘There’ is like a present, placed under the Christmas tree too many days before the due date to unwrap it. It sits, and waits for the mysteries inside to be revealed. We do not know if we want what it contains inside, we just know that we want it to be fully revealed to us, but it is not time for that.

Waiting for the right time is not something that I do well, or naturally, and I do not think that I am alone in that.

Like that child awaiting the right time to open the gift, I just want to get on with it … whatever ‘it’ is.

Being of advanced years, I am starting to learn something about the season of waiting. I am learning it is not empty time. It is not a waste of time. There is a purpose in this season of waiting and anticipating.

In the season of waiting, there is opportunity to to not be that child in the back seat, but to be one of the maturity to notice the beauty along the way. We can learn that age-old lesson to “be still.”

Somehow, to we mere mortals, “be still” sounds like a demand, and, for the impatient like me, it sounds like a punishment.

There is more, though, to that age-old lesson. The lesson comes from the Psalms (Psalm 46:10).

It says:
“Be still, and know that I am God”

When I read beyond those first two words, I sense not a demand or punishment in it’s message to me, but an opportunity to let the chips fall where they may.

It is like someone giving me money to play the slots. It did not cost me to play, so, win or lose, I get to pull the handle and still walk away without having had to gamble.

Unlike that child tortuously awaiting the appointed time to reveal the contents of the beautifully wrapped box, I can enjoy the presents of today, knowing that God has not only the appointed day in control, but also what is contained in the wrappings.

Are we there yet?

No, but each day of anticipation is an opportunity to trust in the God who already knows what is awaiting me.

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I’ve got Karen Carpenter singing in my head, as I sit at a coffee shop, watching the rain fall, and looking at the depressing forecast for the week to come.

It is now mid-June and the monsoons continue, with little relief (aka. sunshine) in sight … literally.

I have yet to swim in our pool, get a suntan, or have the sun hide my darker (or lighter, as the case may be) roots. I have yet to wear shorts, a tank top or sunglasses. I wear only hoods, slickers and galoshes. And I am considering that Prozac might just be a big part of my near future.

Despite how it sounds (and looks) the weather is not all doom and gloom. This west coast winter weather in springtime does make it easier to keep the grass green and the plants watered. It makes the final days of working in a school, before summer break, far more bearable. It makes barbecuing less appealing, and using the slow cooker more appealing.

All that said, the first day of summer is this very week. The countdown is not down to days, but hours, and the calendar may just turn without any other outward signs of this seasonal change. Today, that reality is really getting me down.

Just a week ago the office administrator at our church had put the following on our church sign:

“Whoever it is that is still praying for rain,
STOP!”

I have to say, it was my favorite message board saying ever!

As I sit, enjoying my warm drink (a London Fog … could I choose a more appropriate cool and wet weather drink?), I noticed a small, sparrow-like, bird looking for edible treasures outside the window. For this small creature, the rain does not seem to hinder it’s daily routine. As a matter of fact, it is probably benefiting from the wet soil that draws the worms out of the ground, making it’s take-out meals more like delivery.

Out of nowhere an old, old (like over a hundred year old) song starts playing on the record player of my mind:

“Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise,
When songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies,
I draw the closer to Him, from care He sets me free;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.”

The words make me wonder, is this less appealing weather worthy of complaint? Why am I allowing something that is so out of my control, to control how I look at this day? Even when my complaint is of greater value than the reports of a meteorologist, there is always something to be thankful for, because there is always one who watches over, cares for and loves me.

“Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny, but it seems that it’s the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me”

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Last week I published a post called Tricks and Old Dogs. In it I wrote of my love of talking, and of a recent realization that when I felt as though I was not being listened to, I stopped talking, I stopped communicating. I also wrote of how I was planning on working on that personal response from a self-improvement context.

Since then I have encountered a certain passage in the Bible … twice, and I am starting to think that there is something in it for me.

The day after publishing that post, I read a post of a fellow blogger, which featured Ecclesiastes 3:1-15 (he is a great writer and thinker, and his posts are worth checking out). The blogger focused on how the scripture emphasized the need and reliance for balance. That the reality of the seasons of the year, and of life required a concentration of the balance that they provide in our existence.

For instance seeds are planted in the spring, and the harvest is gathered in the autumn, because that is what makes for the best growth of plants. We can laugh anytime, but to laugh after a season of weeping makes the laughing all the sweeter.

Then, at our staff devotions, a teacher read the same scripture. This time, as it was being read, I ‘heard’ the message that was in it for me. Verse 7 states, “(there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:) a time to be silent and a time to speak.” When the words settled in my ears, I realized that maybe I had been silent for a reason that came, not from weakness, but from a holy, seasonal balance. Maybe this was my time to be silent?

When I came home I did my research. I discovered that the verse from Ecclesiastes was cross referenced to:
Amos 5:13, “therefore the prudent keep quiet in such times”
Job 34:29, “but if he remains silent, who can condemn him?”

Maybe, just maybe, my silence was not simply born out of weakness, nor the result of inappropriate responding to individuals or situations. Maybe, my tongue has been silenced because it is not my season to speak? Maybe, at this time, saying nothing is the healthiest, the most wise route to take? Maybe keeping quiet at this time is not about forfeiting my ability to express myself, but about taking the time to listen, and providing the opportunities for others to practice a season of speaking? Maybe, my silence is a holy protection, that I need to embrace, and not fight against?

I am still determined to learn through this experience. I just might try learning from the silence.

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