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As I bent to look into the oven, I closed my eyes, and whispered, prayerfully, “please let them at least look like Yorkshire Pudding” 

and they did!

Only twenty-eight plus years into our marriage, I finally made a roast beef dinner to write home about (and not with laughing emojis, either).

To make a roast beef dinner has always been an anxiety-ridden attempt for me.

First, because is is hubby’s most favourite meal … ever!

Second, because I did not grow up eating roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding.

Third, because hubby has taken me to homes where the perfection of the roast beef dinner would make Julia Child weep like a baby. I mean how can a woman possibly compete with the culinary expertise of women with wrinkles, calloused hands and support hose?

It’s not that I am a novice in the kitchen. As a matter of fact, my turkey dinners are pretty amazing (if I do say so, myself), complete with stuffing that makes even the most disciplined diner, undo the bottom on their pants), I make a chicken curry that makes one’s taste buds sing in Eastern dialects, and I can create the most tasty hamburgers themed Mexican, traditional, Greek and Italian.

But roast beef success had failed to be mine.

This weekend I so wanted to make his taste buds dance. I knew that the only way to this man’s heart is beef gravy poured into stiff, well-raised Yorkshire Puddings, so I determined to win this man’s full attention with a culinary miracle.

I did what any (desperate) woman would do in my place … I Googled:

“melt in your mouth roast beef”
“Yorkshire Pudding for dummies”

And I did exactly what they told me to do.

And it worked!

Those Yorkshire Puddings stood more than an inch over the rim of the muffin tins (in the past they were never even visible at the rim). The beef so tender and juicy. The gravy  was the icing on the … Pudding.

Ah, now I can fully and confidently walk, with my head held high, on the arm of my well-fed hubby.

 

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remembrance day

Dear Sir (who I never met, and whose name I will never know),

It is that time of year again, as a fellow Canadian citizen, to be thankful and to remember those (such as yourself) who gave their lives, so that I could live my life in freedom.

I have a good life.

I am married, and have three grown children. My youngest just turned eighteen (eighteen … if my son were to have been eighteen in the early 1940s …), and two daughters who are twenty and twenty-five (you might have had a girlfriend, a wife?).

I work in a high school, assisting students to do the best work they can on their assignments and tests (if you had not gone to war, would you have worked a trade? gone to university?).

My husband and I own our home, on which we often spend our time, cleaning or fixing up each spring and summer (did you help your parents on chores around your home growing up?).

My husband coaches community football to young men who are sixteen to eighteen (I wonder, did you play football, or other sports).

I love to garden, and read, and write (what did you like to do in your spare time?).

We are involved in our church …

did you attend church?

did you know the one who gave his life for yours?

the one whose sacrifice of great love mirrored your own.

I need to be honest with you, sir, I live a pretty ordinary life. I have never saved the life of another. I have not invented or discovered a cure for a life-threatening disease. I can be apathetic, sarcastic and down-right lazy at time. I have been known to spend far too much time on frivolous time-wasters like social media and Sudoko.

Was it worth it? You giving your life, so that I could live my days taking your sacrifice for granted?

I am thankful, sir. I am thankful when I hear or read of one, a kindred spirit of yours, who died a hero, stepping in, stepping up to give their life for another. I am thankful when this November 11 day rolls around each year, when the familiar, pin on that red poppy pokes at my arm, when the planes fly over, the songs are sung, the guns fired, the prayers offered and the silence …

Sir, please accept this letter of thanks. Please receive it as a love letter, from one who is undeserving of your sacrifice.

Your friend,

 

 

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“He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is perfected in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

… we say amen, but we pray that his power will not have to be made perfect in our weakness.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” (James 1:2-3)

… we smile outwardly, while inwardly praying that it will just be a quiz.

” In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33b).

… we squirm, wanting to shout “but I cannot handle the trouble I already have!”

Sometimes the promises in the Bible sound more like curses, than blessings. Maybe they are both. Maybe they go together … one a reality of living in a sin-filled world, and the other a salve to soothe that reality.

Or maybe the tough realities of living this life bring us to confront what only God can give,

peace.

Peace is not just freedom from conflict. As a matter of fact, the peace that Christ offers is a peace during conflict, and struggle and pain.

It is “God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand (Philipians 4:7). His peace is other-worldly, not attainable from any other source.

As he was preparing his disciples for his death and departure from them, he comforted them with his peace, which is still available to us today:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27).

In the Matthew Henry Commentary, it reminds us:

The legacy that is here bequeathed Peace, my peace.

  • Peace for all that is really and truly good
  • Peace for reconciliation and love
  • Peace with God,
  • Peace with one another
  • Peace within ourselves
  • A tranquillity of mind arising from a sense of our justification before God
  • It is the counterpart of our pardons
  • It is the composure of our minds
  • This Christ calls his peace, for he is himself our peace
  • It is the peace he purchased for us and preached to us, and on which the angels congratulated men at his birth.

May we reach out for that source of peace … the peace that is available to we mere mortals, beyond anything we could ever imagine.

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Though unseen to the naked eye, though not coverable with bandages, though no cast can hold all the pieces in place, and it is more difficult to rationalize taking a sick day, we all have had experiences or exposure to the invisible wounds in life.

hidden woundsFor some they are the hidden illnesses, with debilitating pain, causing physical exhaustion.

For some they are the internal, chemical imbalances of the brain, bringing with them a heavy sadness that just will not lighten up.

Then, for others, the wounds are not only invisible, but also unrecognizable, undiagnosable, leaving a person to conclude that no one believes them, that it’s all in their head.

 

In his book, The Problem of Pain, C. S. Lewis has said, “Mental (or all invisible) pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “my tooth is aching” than to say “my heart is broken.”

To add to the wisdom of Lewis’ quote, “the frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden” making the load heavier, to the point of exhaustion, physical illness, and even incapacitation from daily activities.

David, in Psalm 56 (v. 8), was in danger. Though this was an outward physical danger, with regards to be being pursued by one who wanted to kill him, his expression of how he felt and responded to this threat was one that those with invisible wounds would be able to relate to:

You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn
    through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
    each ache written in your
book.” 

We see in this verse that David knows and understands that the one who loves him most keeps his tears of pain (both physical and mental), and that every ache is recorded in a ledger … meaning that God sees, he knows that the pain is real.

In this God is verifying that it is not all in his head.

In this God is verifying that it is not all in your head. He sees, he keeps track, he records each tear, each invisible ache. Those wounds are not invisible to God … YOU are not invisible to God.

 

 

 

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Screen Shot 2017-04-24 at 6.53.18 PMThis past week was one where I came to understand and appreciate afresh the church as the love story that God intended.

Loving and sincere well wishes to hubby, after his resignation, from people near and far.

Visits from caring people, when one of a family member spent a few hours in hospital.

Messages from my co-ordinator at work, letting me know that there was someone on ‘back-up’ should I need to stay home the next day with my sick loved one.

True care for each other amongst our kids, all dropping everything for each other.

Offers of prayer from all around the world.

In the Greek and Hebrew language the word church is translated as meaning called out or assembly. In neither case does it refer to a building or institution, yet that is often what we think of when we hear or say the word, church.

The early church came together (assemblies) to worship the God who had come, clothed in human skin, to redeem his creation.

In John 13:34-35 (The Message), Jesus gave a new command to his followers (aka. those who would be the early Christian/Christ-following) church:

“Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples—when they see the love you have for each other.”

The Matthew Henry Commentary speaks to that verse:

“Before Christ left the disciples, he would give them a new commandment. They were to love each other for Christ’s sake, and according to his example, seeking what might benefit others, and promoting the cause of the gospel, as one body, animated by one soul. But this commandment still appears new to many professors. Men in general notice any of Christ’s words rather than these. By this it appears, that if the followers of Christ do not show love one to another, they give cause to suspect their sincerity.

Showing love to one another is the most distinctive action we can determine to do, in order to set ourselves apart, in order to be called out (to be the church).

By loving each other we mirror the way Jesus lived, we show his love to the world. If we do not show love to one another … are we truly called out? are we truly His church?

I am so thankful to be surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, who walk the walk, talk the talk, and be the church.

 

 

 

 

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This week marks the five hundredth anniversary of Martin Luther’s posting of his 95 Theses, presumably on the door of the Wittenberg Church. To be honest, that was really the limit to what I knew of him until recently.

Though my knowledge is still lacking, I have grown in appreciation for his message in the 95.

In my quest to know and understand more about the history tied up in Luther’s most popular writing, I watched an interview with Eric Metaxis (author of “Martin Luther: The Man Who Rediscovered God and Changed the World”). 

In the interview he stated, 

“He (Luther) didn’t care what Luther thought. He cared what is true, what does God say, what does the Bible say? And if we find a place where the church has veered slightly from what the Bible says, we have to go with the Bible.”

bible

Luther knew that he, that humans, are not the authorities on truth. It is the Word of God, the Bible, which is our only source of truth.

An English translation of no. 62 of the 95 intrigued me greatly:

“The true treasure of the Church is the Most Holy Gospel of the glory and the grace of God.”

Luther wanted the the Church to realize and the world to know that the Word of God, the holy scriptures, were the the greatest treasure that we have, for it is in and through them that we are introduced to our redeemer who saved us by his grace.

Luther was not just pulling words or thoughts out of nowhere, for his sixty-second theses came from his intense study of and familiarity with the very Word of God. Such references as 2 Timothy 3:14-17:

But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,  so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

There is not greater treasure in this world, and, unlike Luther’s world of five hundred years ago, we have that treasure in our homes, churches and in thrift stores. Now we just need to open it.

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Tonight is the night for spooky costumes, trick or treaters and more candy received than dentists would ever desire people to eat.

atticusI have endearing memories of being at my grandmother’s house on Halloween night, helping her to hand out candy (and hoping she didn’t hand it all out, because I was more than willing to take it all off of her hands).

I remember her holding the candy hostage until the spooky visitor told her their name, and whether or not they lived on her her road (and, sometimes, who their parents were). She loved this opportunity to get to know her little neighbours.

I remember those dressed up like cute butterflies, pirates, firefighters and princesses. Then there were the ones that were taller, older, and had masks that completely hid their identity from us. Those were the ones that I felt more fearful and hesitant about letting into my grandmother’s home.

But, after my grandmother would ask her questions, once we knew it was the teen from the farm next door, or so-and-so’s grandson, or a stranger who slipped off their mask to smile and introduce themselves, all was well.

You see, the mask they were wearing was not who they really were, and once that mask was off, or the wearer identified, relationship entered the picture.

But, that was not the sole responsibility of the wearer of the mask.

You see, in my ignorance, I had pre-judged the individuals before my grandmother got to them. I saw them as scary, a threat, and I was wrong.

Last week I was wrong about someone, and I love it when I am wrong!

At the beginning of the school year I met dozens of students for the first time, and without intending to, I pre-judged them, according to their words and body language.

One student, in particular, I pre-judged as one who would not accept help, who felt they did not need help, who felt they did not need a learning support block.

In the past few weeks, I have seen a change akin to the metamorphic changes leading to the emergence of a butterfly from it’s cocoon. This student has accepted assistance, worked collaboratively with another student, and has even asked for help in understanding the next unit in a subject.

I was so wrong! And I am so glad.

So, was I just wrong? I don’t think so.

You see, what changed was that, in the beginning, I judged only from what I saw and heard. Much like the trick-or-treaters, when they first walked into my grandmothers house. It was not until I asked questions, in order to get to know this student, that I began to understand who this student really was … on the inside … under the mask that we all wear.

Relationship is what makes the difference in knowing and understanding people.

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Maybe it’s at a buffet of food, all placed on tables and trays and in food warmers.

Or maybe it is at a shopping mall, in your favourite store, when the doors have opened on a new fashion season.

Or maybe it is a drive in the country, and the colors of autumn (an East Coast autumn) are everywhere.

Or maybe at an athletic stadium, where your favourite team is playing the season ending game.

In a variety of places and circumstances we can struggle with knowing where to look, or perhaps, where to place our attention, where to give our time.

In the daily living of tyranny of the urgent we are torn between what is urgent and what is important. Far too often what is urgent interrupts, clouds and pushes aside what is truly important, and of lasting value.

According to Forbes Media it is not our job demands, getting to swim practise on time, or missing that ever-invading tweet or FB post that people regret. It is people, and what we have missed out on with real life humans who have, at one time, captivated something so deep within us that on our deathbeds it is they who we long for most.

These memorable people are not just the ones we should long for in our final earthly hours, but we ought to keep the value of them in our daily life every day of our life.

As hubby’s vocation is that of a pastor, I hear often about death bed regrets, and of what it is that people want to talk about in their final hours.

They desire family, forgiveness and a real faith in a Saviour.

They want those who they love to be nearest to them. They want to right what has been wrong in their relationships. They want to have their eyes open for those gone before them, and for Jesus … to see him, face to face.

What if we lived every day, as our last day?

What if we loved and valued our greatest earthly human loves as though this were our last day with them, free of technology, dusting and the demands of daily life? What if we lived today with reconciliation in our hearts, and flowing freely from our lips, as we asked and offered forgiveness?

What if you (and I) were to actually Turn your Eyes to the Jesus, to see him in every aspect of our day?

Lets stop wasting our time indulging in everything at the buffet of life, and just choose to taste and see what satisfies most.

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Some people have skeletons in their closets, we have a man in our basement.

For almost a year this man has lived in the dark recesses of our home, silent as a mouse, happy as a clam.

To be most sincere, his living in our home has been a dream come true.

To maintain his privacy (though many locals know) I’ll just call him JB (not to be mistaken for J Biebs).

JB went to school, since kindergarten, and graduated with our daughter. I got to work in classes he was in for numerous years. It was he who, sometime in early high school years, gave me the nickname that stuck for years at school (Mrs. Wheatie, as opposed to Mrs. Wheaton).

Many times, in his high school years, he and I (and my hubby) joked that one day he would rent and live in the suite of our home.

In January of this year, the joke became reality, as JB and his family gradually migrated his earthly belongings to the suite in our basement.

JB is like family to us.

We appreciate how he respects us in his polite quietness (even if we really think he could make more noise than he does). We enjoy seeing each other in passing, or when he joins us for a meal, or sitting on the deck in the sunshine.

Easter and Thanksgiving would not have been the same without JB joining us for a family meal, and an exceptionally competitive game of Dutch Blitz.

JB is gentle-hearted, generous, positive and considerate. We are blessed to have this young man in our lives, in our family … in our basement.

Happy Birthday JB! We all love you.

“Every time your name comes up in my prayers, I say,
“Oh, thank you, God!”
Philemon 1:4

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IMG_2755A picture can speak of a thousand memories.

As I looked at the photo, above, from a few days ago, the first thought that came to my mind was,

these … these are the humans I so love.

There are times when this truth can hit a person, full and uninterrupted.

That man, who I took the great leap with over twenty-eight years ago, when we were so very young and fully unaware of what we were signing on for when we made that covenant to each other, for life.

In the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Susan asks Mr. Beaver, “is he safe?” (regarding Aslan the lion), “”Safe?” said Mr. Beaver …”Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.” I often think the same could be said of marriage, of course it isn’t safe. But it’s good.

That oldest daughter, the one who taught me how to be her mother. Oh, I have failed her a million times … just in her first year of life. She challenges me to think and to know the reasons for what I believe. She is determined, and will achieve what she desires. She is brave, and strong … fearful and delicate. Like the Velveteen Rabbit, she is real.

That youngest daughter, the one who cried for two years straight, and has never been shy to make a statement … in words, in fashion, in art, in friendships (most childhood friends were sixty plus, years her senior). She taught me that relationship is active, daily work and that asking questions is the only way to know what someone else is thinking. She lives the meaning of the words of Anne Shirley, “the iron has entered my soul.”

That son, the one who can read my unspoken thoughts, unspoken emotions. He is confident and comfortable in his own skin. He has taught me about good and evil, and he has no idea of how very well he has learned that redemption truly is the best theme of any story. “He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a Dark Knight.”

These are my favourite five, the ones who make my heart soar, the ones who fill my cup, and make my stand tall.

It is these who I love with a deep and never-ending love.

“Above all, keep loving one another deeply”
1 Peter 4:8

 

 

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