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I sat in my vehicle, fatigued and elated, after the graduation ceremony for my son and his peers, and opened the envelope that was addressed … to me.

As I opened the card (to the left) I read the unexpected, encouraging words, from one mom to another. And the floodgates opened.

Although this day had been one of joy, pride and celebration, the week had been one of self doubt, regrets, and feelings of parental failure. And we all have those times, don’t we?

The words in this note card fed my momma heart. They nurtured my soul. They gave me reason to lift my head.

Really what they did was remind me that I am human. Sometimes I blow it, as a parent. Sometimes I get it right. Don’t we all live with this reality?

1 Thessalonians 5:11 reminds us,

encourage each other and build each other up,
just as you are already doing.” 

This little card, written by another momma, did that for me. This small token, it’s greatest value is not only in the words, but the fact that she made the effort to encourage.

Not only did it encourage me, but it also reminded me that I need to encourage others. Don’t we all need that?

So, thank-you friend, fellow mom who is travelling this unpredictable, windy road called parenting. You have encouraged me and your kind act fed my momma soul.

 

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To my son, as he graduates tonight from high school:

Tonight you dress in a cap and gown, a shirt and tie.
Tonight you cross a stage, have a tassel crossed over your head.
Tonight is the end, tonight is the beginning.

The other night I needed you to do an errand with me. What I needed was time with you, needed to hear from you about how you feel about graduation.

If I were to give our conversation a one-word theme, it would be legacy.

You shared with me what you wish your legacy would be, but your disappointment that you felt you had failed in accomplishing your desire …
we always have regrets when things come to an end.

To leave a legacy is to leave a gift for those who come after. In reality, we all leave a legacy, some good, and some not so good.

As your mom, I see your legacy quite differently from you.
moms tend to see things differently.

About a month ago I walked down the halls of school with you. As we walked, and talked, there was a constant injection of “hey Ben” from guys in younger grades. Finally I asked how all these students knew who you were.

You, nonchalantly, replied, “I just got to know them. I remember what it was like to be one of the younger kids in school, and how good it was when an older guy knew my name, so I got to know their names.”
this momma saw a good legacy … an eternal legacy

Last week a mom told me of a grad event and how she could not find a student who was comfortable to pray for the meal. Finally she asked a group, “who will pray, so that we can eat our meal?” To which the group replied, “Ben.” She said that when she asked you, you quickly said yes.
this mom saw a good legacy … an eternal legacy

A year ago you spoke in chapel at school. Through your words you communicated the love that God has for us all. You shared that God’s love is not dependent on what we do, what we’ve done, that he is always there for us all.
to share Gods love for others is a great legacy … an eternal legacy

My dear,

You know the joys of applause after performing a play …

and you know that it comes to an end.

To leave a legacy of quietly caring, of being thankful, of sharing of the redemptive story of God’s love (and you know, that redemption is the best theme of any story). These are pieces of an eternal legacy … one that doesn’t sit on a shelf and collect dust.

A few months ago I sent you a song (probably not your style of music, but the words …). If you need a legacy goal for your life, I send you back to Nicole Nordeman’s song Legacy. My hope for you, is “that you choose to love, point to (Christ). Leave an offering, (be) a child of mercy and grace who blessed (his) name unapologetically.”

Keep looking around, Ben. You know how fast a season of life can move, live towards an eternal legacy.

I love you
I love you
I love you,

Mom

feris

 

 

 

 

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As the calendar turned to June, the theme at high school moves to finishing the school year.

Talk in the classrooms, the hallways and at staff meetings is of the last day of school, exams, studying and graduation.

It is at this time in the school year that a Biblical concept raises its head in the minds of those who both would and would not typically ascribe Toni daily life.

This concept comes from 2 Timothy 4:7 “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

I think that many who refer to this verse do so as a challenge to themselves or for others. It is the message we all need to keep in our minds as we focus on this place between where we are, and where we are headed. It reminds us that it is not the destination we are headed, but how we get there.

It is a good time, for school staff, students and parents of students to continue doing well, or, as is more often the case, redeem the parts of the year when we messed up, were apathetic, or were damaging in some way to those around us.

It amazes me how the strong effort of a student in preparation for a final exam can impress a teacher who had previously seen little evidence of effort. Or how the note of appreciation from a parent to a teacher who had a positive influence on their child can give a difficult school year true meaning. Or how a teacher can move a student from the pit of despair, to seeing a glimmer of light, by looking into the eyes of a student who has struggled all year, and saying “I know how hard this has been for you. This is only one small part of life. This exam does not define who you are.”

So, lets finish well, by encouraging those around us, who might just need a bit of hope for the weeks to come, or to erase the year past.

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As I scanned my collection of Italian vacation photos, I came to a clear and obvious conclusion …

I have a thing for doors and windows.

Every location that I visited had images of doors, shutters and iron rails represented in the daily photo album.

But why?

Visual beauty, for certain, as they caught my eye long enough for a photo to be taken, but there was more.

As the doors and windows, shutters and iron gates caught my attention, I was unable to resist the next step. Oh yes, I frequently reached for my camera, but, more frequently, I simply reached out my hand.

I touched the grain of the wood, stone or iron. Often, I would close my eyes and imagine the hands that touched, as did my own, through dozens and hundreds of years. The years of history that went through these passageways might include warriors, the wealthy, the downtrodden, politicians, people famous in their field, and people who lived simple lives.

History can be felt, as it can be seen, or heard, or even smelled.

I live in a place in our world that lusts for what is new. Homes that age beyond fifty years, are viewed as dispensable, replaceable. Today’s home buyers are not looking for ‘pre-owned homes’, but new construction, with nothing from the past, nothing to do, but move in. Established, older homes are upgraded, updated and features such as doors replaced.

History is replaced, disposed of, never to be thought of again.

And so we turn our backs on historical architecture, but we also turn our backs on our history.

It has been said that if we forget our history, we are bound to repeat it.

 

In the movie Jackie (about Jackie Kennedy), Jackie said, in the movie, “objects and artifacts last far longer than people, and they represent important ideas, history, identity, beauty.”

History is not just the events that happened in the past, it is the people, places and all that surrounded the the events. History is in every nook and cranny of our world, and every thing tells a part of the story from beginning to end.

“Remember your history,
    your long and rich history.
I am God, the only God you’ve had or ever will have—
    incomparable, irreplaceable—
From the very beginning
    telling you what the ending will be,
All along letting you in
    on what is going to happen,
Assuring you, ‘I’m in this for the long haul,
    I’ll do exactly what I set out to do,’”
Isaiah 46:9-10

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I backed down my driveway like a bat outta hell, consciously tapping my knee as rhythmically I could, trying to slow my quickened heartbeat and breathing.

I was in a panic.

The hours before I leave for the pinch me so I know this is really happening to me trip were moving like sand in an hourglass, with no concern whether I was ready or not.

Panic #1
I had just remembered in the afternoon that I had not alerted my bank and credit card company of my upcoming trip. I want to do two things on my trip, eat good food and buy good edibles to bring home, both of which require money. So I can not have my plastic rejected!

Panic #2
I had called the number on my credit card, but, after over ten minutes, pushing every freaking number they had to offer me, I still couldn’t get a human on the line (my brain synapses do not synapse so well when I have too much on my mind).

Panic #3
I wanted to have dinner together, as I will be missing my family (maybe not the first few days, but I will eventually miss them).

So, off I drove to the bank … surely a human, with skin on, would be easier on my mis-synapsing brain! Then I could get home to enjoy a last supper together.

Panic #4
I forgot where I was going on my way to the bank. More specifically, I forgot where the bank (that I have been to … two to three thousand times) was located (synapses, I tell you).

Panic #5
There was a line-up at the bank. I was NOT going to let this get to me. I even soothed the poor man who was thinking that the tellers were not working very fast, by telling him that they were probably slower because there are so thorough!

Panic #6 & 7 & 8
I told the teller my tale of woe, and she then informed me that it is no longer necessary to alert credit card companies and banks of such trips (envision a look on my face that would communicate what planet are you from?). Then (#7) I ask her to please make a note anyway, and she says she doesn’t have the authorization to do so on my credit card, and (get this) … I will need to call the number on the back of my credit card (the volcano was rumbling). Then (#8) I said, could you please make a note on my debit card? To which she replied, well that’s really not necessary (then, I think, she saw the smoke emerge from my facial orifices), but if that would make you feel better I’ll just do that. At this point her fingers were moving across the keyboard, but I am still not convinced that she actually made the note.

Panic #9
I decided to go to the mall, to the currency exchange, to get the cash I would need. I parked close to the door (a miracle), and scurried through the mall to the kiosk. As I was approaching the kiosk, I noted that there was no human visible. I then noticed a clock-like sign on the window … it was 4:15, the clock said “returning at 5:30”.

I cannot even remember what happened next.

All I know is that I ended up in a coffee shop, to caffeinate my muddled, no-synapses-firing mind (wine would have been a better option, as it, at least, relaxes me).

The coffee shop host was effervescent (too effervescent for my mood) as he asked what I would like to order (had he asked me how my day was … it’s just so good that he didn’t ask about my day). I sighed and asked for a tall Americano. Then, what could have been ordinary, changed the course of the day for me.

He asked my name, to write it on the cup.

I replied, “Carol” (not because my name is Carol, but because when I say, Carole (see the ‘e’ at the end? Like Anne, from Green Gables) NO ONE EVER SPELLS IT RIGHT! And I’m okay with it, and I wouldn’t be so anal as to spell it for them, but sometimes, sometimes …

you just want someone to know who you are).

And then, Mr. Effervescent says, “is that with an ‘e’ at the end?”

And the world, momentarily stopped moving.

And the rhythm of my heart, and breathing slowed as I gasped.

And I contemplated jumping over the counter and hugging him, whilst a fountain of tears soaked his shirt.

And, I smiled, and looked Mr. Effervescent right in the eyes and said, “yes, with an ‘e’. And thank-you … you’ll never know how you asking that has just made my day.”

And that is all.

It really is the little things that can change the trajectory of a chaotic day.

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There are times of progress, of advancement, of moving forward.

Then there are other times …

quiet times,

noisy times,

times of little progress,

times of barely moving,

times that seem to stand still.

It is in those times that we can lose all confidence and motivation for the direction we were headed. Discouragement can take over, and a desire to simply give up pervades our being.

But moving forward is still moving, still achievement.

We humans struggle for our timing to be the timing of the universe. It is not.

We are not called to be on time, we are called to be faithful to use the gifts that were given to us … there is no mention of when to stop (no mention of age, or slow progress, or   discouragement).

Romans 12:6-8 tells us:

We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith;  if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.” 

Basically, the message would seem to be, just do it!

Joy will come in the morning, it just might not be this morning.

Each step is moving you forward. Keep going, tired one. You have gifts to use that others need so badly to receive.

“Cast not away your confidence because God defers his performances. That which does not come in your time, will be hastened in his time, which is always the more convenient season. God will work when he pleases, how he pleases, and by what means he pleases. He is not bound to keep our time, but he will perform his word, honour our faith, and reward them that diligently seek him.” ~ Matthew Henry

 

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A day to celebrate mothering has become a difficult and controversial day in our society.

It can be offensive or hurtful to those who are not mothers (especially those who wish to be), to those who are single parent dads, to those whose mothers have died or who left deep scars from their mothering (or lack thereof).

I, too, have had this second Sunday of May roll around and felt the weight of my empty arms, after the inter-utereo death of an much anticipated child.

Yet, the celebration is really one of thanks and recognition for those who selflessly give to, and feed into our lives, making our existence possible and meaningful. Really, it is not about those of us who feel personally empty or sad.

Mother’s Day is a day to express gratitude … for others.

The woman known as the mother of Mother’s Day, was never a mother herself. In 1908, three years after her own mother died, Anna Jarvis held a church service in honour of her mother, of all mothers.

Many of us have a mother who loved us, and whom we love. Those of us who have not had such a blessing, have certainly had at least one woman in our lives who fostered a mother-like bond for us.

Though today I am honoured to hold the title of mother, what makes this day most special is that I can honour the woman who gave me physical, as well as emotional, intellectual and spiritual life. My mom is simply the best lady I know, and I am thankful, every day, for her. I can also honour the women who have fostered in me a love for thought, for life, for this world and what is to come after.

I have been blessed to have been mothered, and I am not one who will choose to shy away from celebrating this day, and those who have mothered me along the way.

They deserve this day!

 

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Some days are rays of sunshine, success and sweetness.

Then there are the days of darkness, discouragement and drudgery.

Recently I walked through a day of the later with a friend. From the moment I saw her coming my way, I could see defeat in her walk, her pasted smile, and the invisible, yet so visible weight that she carried across her shoulders.

I could not rectify, solve or improve the situations in her life that day. And I felt helpless.

We all have those days, weeks or even years, when we have lost our confidence, our hope. Sometimes these days are born out of events or emotions that are beyond our control.

Since we all have and do experience life this way at times, what if we applied empathy to the situation? What if, rather than try to fix the difficulty in another’s life, we simply sat in with them, then started to fill them with what is true?

What if we simply told them how much we appreciate them? express the strengths we see in them? tell them that they are loved?

In essence, what if we filled their empty cup with understanding, truth and love?

Isn’t that what we would hope when we are in the depths of despair?

“So whatever you wish that others would do to you,
do also to them”
Matthew 7:12

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I am a conundrum!

I love change, live for it really. Yet, I adore the safety and security of what I already know.

There is an energy that comes from making a change in ones life. It makes the heart beat, widens our eyes and keeps us on our toes.

Yet, change can also create palpitations, fear and anxiety. It can make one yearn for monotony.

When I read verses such as, Isaiah 43:19:

“I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” 

I think to myself, but my current situation is not a wilderness or desert. I like what I know, and feel protected by the predictability around me.

But then there is Hebrews 11:8:

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going.”

He just went, without a clue as to his final destination …

Nothing written about fear or yearning for safety and security.

He just obeyed.

He just stepped forward.

 

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IMG_0274If I were to say “look up, look way up,” you were probably a child, growing up in Canada, during the 1950s-1980s, who watched The Friendly Giant children’s TV program.

That favourite childhood show has had a lasting effect on me, for when I look at something that is tall, those five words instantly come to memory.

I often wish I had realized the value and power of repetition when my kids were younger. There is no way of erasing some of the things I was repeatedly exposed to in childhood. The memorization of Bible verses, nursery rhymes and songs. The little sayings my dad would repeat.

It is interesting to me, each time I “look up, look way up,” that there is such a profound lesson in those five words.

A numer of times in the Psalms, there are verses about God looking down from heaven, in search for someone who is wise.

“The LORD looks down from heaven on humans to see if anyone is wise, to see if anyone seeks God” Psalm 14:2

If he is looking down, we must need to look up (look way up). 

Perhaps, it is when we are in a position of looking up, that we are in the posture of one who is wise … or at least of one who is in search of the origin of wisdom.

“He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less.” John 3:30

look up, look way up

 

 

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