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It’s that day … Valentine’s Day.

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The day of love, unspoken expectations, and loneliness … what a great conundrum of experiences!

While I understand that this day is one which some avoid, love is something which we should celebrate … but not just one day each year.

Here’s a few of my mature, though not necessarily Earth-shattering, thoughts of love:

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My most favourite experience, which I only share with my hubby, is weekend morning coffee, each in our own chairs, toes periodically touching, with books and computers around us, dog at our feet, few words spoken … priceless. Neither of us really drink coffee other than at this time of day, but it is the thing that, on the day one of us awakens without the other in our life, we will mourn this loss greatly, for it is ours.

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Now, of course, my hubby and I are never angry with each … and if you believe that, have I got a swamp to sell you! We are pretty passionate individuals, and when we are angry with each other, I’ll be the first to admit that my anger can make me feel like I am a living, ticking time bomb. But, we do still care for each other … hubby still looks after my vehicle, I still make dinner. This act of caring, in the midst of anger, is the foundation of self-sacrifice. Even though we may be angry and not like each other, we still care for, and love each other.

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When you first meet a soft touch, or even making eye contact can be the most thrilling of experiences. What we often forget is that those cheap thrills don’t have to be relegated to the past, and they can even be more delightful years later, when we frequently forget to simply admire, to softly touch or kiss in such common ways.

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Want to feel like a young couple again? Laugh over the stupid things you have done together. That old man/woman who you live with is the same person who you have a shared history of a multitude of ridiculous memories. Drag them out, like people in the past brought out the photo albums. Heck drag out the photo albums … they might be the best spark to remember your shared silliness. There is a little shack cabin, on a twisty road in Vermont, that can make us smile at each other knowingly, for we have a memory that only each other knows.

flat800x800070f All of us who have done life with another have a shared history. We know things about our other that make us beautiful, or ugly. But, guess what? We both have flaws, skeletons in our closets, make bad smells, and have obsessive compulsive behaviours (of course mine aren’t diagnosable, like someone … just joking).

I think that, just maybe, Bob Marley said it best:

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I remember vividly reading the verse (to the left) on a wall hanging at37e122fc49f1ec1dcfaa58700744f78b the grandmother’s house. It was something that I read so frequently that it became a game to see how much of it I could read (when I was just learning to read) to how much of it I could recite by memory. I read it every time I was sitting in her bathroom.

The words and images that we see as a child are burned into, not only our memories, but also our thinking. That is why it is so important that young children are nurtured with affirming, creative and educational messages, both directly and indirectly in their homes, schools and churches.

Lately a childhood song keeps echoing in my mind, at varying times in my days.

“Oh be careful little eyes what you see …
Oh be careful little ears what you hear …
Oh be careful little hands what you touch …
Oh be careful little feet where you go … 
Oh be careful little mouth what you say …”

A song to remind us think about what we allow ourselves to see, hear, touch, say and where we go, before we do the action.

The song reminds me of Ephesians 5:1-20, which starts with “follow God’s example … and walk in the way of love …” (v. 1), and ends with “so watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times! Don’t live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants” (v. 16-17).

In the middle are great reminders of how to think about the things we do, the places we go, the words we say and the people we are with, all through the lens of the light of God.

It kinda makes me wonder why this song has been in my thoughts lately. Maybe I need to evaluate how I am spending my time.

“Wake up from your sleep,
Climb out of your coffins;
Christ will show you the light!”
Ephesians 5:14

 

 

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It is early morning, and I am sitting in my cozy chair, with only the light from my deck, and my computer screen. I glance out the window to the beauty of the recent snowfalls. The rain is falling steadily, and the only other sound is my wonder dog, snoring in the chair beside me. I have just received notice that school/work is cancelled due to dangerous road conditions. I am at peace.

But, with the rain falling, I know that dark, wet, slushy storms are just around the corner.

In our neck of the Pacific Northwest woods, some would say that the rain is the signal that the storms are coming to an end. Snowfall amounts have been adding up to record-breaking totals for five days straight.

For me, the snow is not a storm, for I have learned to live with snow, to move with snow … which means to slow down and to embrace the snow.

But the rain … I still wrestle with the rain.

When the rains fall, day after day after day, there is a weight that begins to descend that leads me to a dark and soul-lamenting that I cannot choose to leave … I have to ride the storm, and wait for it to pass.

I have been learning, in the last few years, to approach this dreaded season differently, as I have been leaning in to lament.

Through this process, I have been learning not to fear the ‘wet and dark season’ but worshipping through it. In essence I have been practising what the author (Jeremiah?) of Lamentations has shared.

It is interesting that the Hebrew word for the book means “how” and the Greek translation of the title means “lament”. I, in my grand theological studies (tongue in cheek) like to think of the book of Lamentations as meaning, how to lament.

In this book, I see great lamenting, being very real before God (heck, he knows how we feel anyway, we might as well admit it when we feel we are defeated, crushed, in the pit). But, I also see hope (3:22-25):

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.”

Lamenting does not only happen in the book of Lamentations.

There are numerous Psalms (aka sacred songs) in which the author is lamenting, weeping, sorrow filled, and they are usually directed specifically to God. My favourite is Psalm 13, which begins with “How long, Lord?” and ends with “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the Lord’s praise, for he has been good to me.”

I recently saw this quote (below), which was like a thesis statement for me in my pursuit of understanding lamenting:

“The whole point of lamentation is you don’t use your pain as an excuse not to worship; you actually take your pain and you bring it with you before the alter, and you stand there with your pain and you say, “Though all this is true, yet I will rejoice in You!” It is the highest form of worship that exists.” Graham Cooke

And so, today, as I watch the rains fall, I will lament, and I will praise God, for he is faithful.

In practising praise in the midst of my lament of rain, I am growing a practise that I pray will hold me up when the greater storms of life descend, and my response will be to lean in to lament, and to continue to worship God, for he is faithful.

 

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I do not remember who said it, but I once heard something that resurfaces in my thoughts, and it went (somewhat) like this:

We need to remember that there are people around us, ones we work with, neighbours, families on your kid’s soccer team, the cashier at your grocery store, who are the future inhabitants of hell.

Quite a statement, indeed, and one that many of us might view as a rather extreme, and possibly even a negative way to look at those around us. And yet …

Recently, in a post called He May Never Know …, I shared about how a young man introduced our son to the love of God, and how he had greatly encouraged him, with his unconditional acceptance and love.

The spirit of God resides in us, but it is not for our benefit alone. The Spirit is the seed, our trust and faith in that seed is the soil, and how we live is the fruit.

It is the fruit of how we choose to live our lives, how we choose to treat others, that either entices or repels others to the seed (Spirit) within us.

Dr. Charles Stanley said,

” … all of us need to be encouragers because we live in a world full of people who are discouraged.”

And how do we encourage the discouraged? By allowing the seed of the Spirit to grow and ripen in our lives, until it bursts from us in the sweetest of fruits … in the form of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control (that last one is a struggle for me, in so many areas).

Though Christ can, and does, work in spite of us, I would suggest that if his Spirit is living within us, he purposes that we work with him in the pursuit of rescuing lost souls.

Perhaps I am wrong in my assertion, but what if I am right?

 

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As I walked down the grocery store aisle a young man caught my attention. He looked to be in his mid twenties, shopping with an attractive young woman. I knew, as soon as I saw him, who he was … for I could never forget him.

I met him almost ten years ago, at a place I’d never been, to leave my son, for a week, in the care of people who I had never met.

He was a friendly teen with a big smile and friendly eyes. He was so welcoming, so wordlessly comforting to this momma dealing with the pending separation anxiety.

Hubby and I bid farewell to our son, with big hugs and reminders that we would see him at the end of the week. Then we walked away from him, surrounded by his school friend, a handful of other boys, and his two, fearless leaders. We were both feeling hopeful and fearful all at once.

About six months earlier, the mom of our son’s friend called and asked if our son would like to go to summer camp. It was a church camp that their family had been attending for at least two generations. Though he would only be six years old, he was keen to spend five sleeps with his school buddy, so we decided to say “yes” and allow him his first week at summer camp.

The day we were to drop him off, I was so unsure.

Days later, we arrived to pick up son. He was filthy behind the ears, exhausted, and totally joy-filled. He gave his new friends high fives, hand-shakes and hugs good bye. But it was his farewell to this one cabin counsellor that tugged at my heart. There were few words said, yet communication that pierced the heart.

What this teen didn’t know (nor did I at that time) was that our son had been bullied at school for the two previous years. Having unconditional care and friendship from this cool teenager greatly encouraged our boy … rebuilding and repairing what had been torn away.

The following year, as we drove onto the camp grounds, this councillor greeted our son, by name. Our son had this young man as his camp counsellor again, and he was thrilled.

A few years later we saw him at a concert, and again, he greeted our boy by name.

There are few things I know, that I know, in this life, but this I know for sure, that young man introduced our son to Jesus, because he always made him feel welcomed here on Earth.

I stared, as inconspicuously as possible, to be completely certain it was him.

Soon I was close enough to be so bold as to greet him. Before I fully had the question “were you a counsellor at camp …” off my lips, he said, “you’re Ben’s mom” and I smiled, and nodded.

He told me that they follow each other on Instagram, that he planned to visit him this summer at camp … Ben’s tenth summer at camp … as a camper and as a counsellor.

This young man may never fully know, this side of heaven, that he had opened a door to eternity …

until, maybe, he has a child,

and he takes his child,

hopefully, fearfully,

to camp for the first time,

and some teenager welcomes his child

as though he were welcoming God himself.

 

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Purpose


With our youngest graduating from high school in five months, I have been perseverating about my own purpose or calling.

I remember well, as a teenager, being asked what I wanted to do when I graduated. I also remember my immediate thoughts to be of being a wife and mom, followed by lying and giving more ‘driven’ responses of professional goals.

Years later I discovered that I was pregnant … my life’s dreams were coming true … until, at about seventeen weeks, it’s heart stopped beating.

Twenty-one months later our ten and a half pound daughter was born. I was happy and challenged more than I ever imagined mothering to be.

The next seven years were filled with four more pregnancy losses, the birth of a daughter (who cried for two years) and the birth of our son.

My pursuit to hold the professional title of mom, was earned through PhD-like blood, sweat and tears. I awoke each day ready to go to work at my practise of mothering and homemaking.

As they headed off to school in succession, I realized it was time for a new, or more specifically, another vocation. What to do, when one grows up? became a regular question for me to ask. 

So, I went back to school … to work as an Educational Assistant. I have had the privilege of going to work, with a contented heart, for almost fourteen years, learning daily from the students I have the honour of working with.

Now … now, as my favourite three are moving into their adult lives, I see an opportunity for me to, once again, ask “what will I do when I grow up?

So I have looked at different jobs, courses and schools. I am still looking.

To this point, the only thing that keeps resurfacing, the only message I keep encountering that resonates with me is that relationships matter.

I am not sure that this message is for me, in terms of my vocational pursuits in the years to come, or in terms of me as an individual, in my life.

When I came across the words of Mother Teresa,

“we have been created in order
to love and to be loved”

I realized that, in considering what I want to do, I must first start with who I am.

Still no answers, yet all the answers are wrapped up in that core awareness that we are to love and to be loved. From that statement a stewardship of and to humanity is known.

 

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Waiting is not something that many of us enjoy.

There is little that we have to actually wait for anymore in our daily lives.

Thanks to computer technology alone, we can read a book, bank at all hours, order dinner, purchase items, make contact with people in our lives, and complete a degree … all wearing our pjs, from our sofa, while watching an entire season of our favourite TV show, from our computers!

Waiting is not something expected in our lives today.

Yet, waiting is still part of the human experience.

We still have to wait nine months for a baby to be fully developed, we still have to wait for the vegetables in our gardens to grow before we reap a harvest, we still have to wait until we are a certain age to drive a vehicle and we still have to wait for our prayers to be answered.

The later is often the longest wait.

Just this past weekend, a woman in our church shared of a dreadfully long wait for her hubby to see a health care specialist. It seemed that each day was too long leading up to the awaited appointment. Each ‘what if’ that could be dreamed was considered. They were certain that if hubby’s health didn’t kill him, waiting to see the specialist would.

Then they finally got to the appointed day. And appointed it was! She shared of how there was connection with this doctor, right down to his office decor. To top it all off, her hubby was given a clean bill of health … the best news they could have imagined.

She shared that, though they felt the waiting would cause further deterioration of his health, in reality the time waiting allowed healing and restoration of his body that only time can heal.

Waiting is hard, and not a chosen venue for any of us, yet there can be blessing in the process of waiting.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us, “for everything there is an appointed time, and an appropriate time for every activity on earth.”

Though the time spent in the waiting room of yet to be answered prayers can be tiring, frustrating and difficult, it may just be that this waiting has purpose. God’s answers are always on time.

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
Psalm 27:14

 

 

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Whatever we put our faith in, we must put it into practise to prove it is real.

I have faith in my vehicle, therefore I drive it to the places I need to go.

I have faith in my bank, therefore I keep my money in my bank account (ok, so there really isn’t much in there).

I have faith in the bridge on the road, therefore I drive on it with confidence.

I have faith in God, therefore I …

Faith is to have confidence, to have belief in, to trust.

Hebrews 11 gives us the academy award winners of those who lived by faith in such a way that God himself took note.

By faith Abel …

By faith Enoch …

By faith Noah …

By faith Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Rahab …

My most favourite of the faithful is Abraham. The man who not only believed, but gave feet to his faith. This is particularly the case when God led Abraham to make a blood offering, and the only sacrifice that God seemed to provide was his son, Isaac. In this story Abraham had to take one step in front of the next, each step an action, each step an act of faith.

I can only imagine Abraham whispering under his breath, with each step,

“God will provide a lamb” over and over again. Yet, he kept stepping forward.

James 2, in the Message, reminds us of Abe’s faithful action:

“You foolish person, do you want evidence that faith without deeds is useless? Was not our father Abraham considered righteous for what he did when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? You see that his faith and his actions were working together, and his faith was made complete by what he did. And the scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness,” and he was called God’s friend. You see that a person is considered righteous by what they do and not by faith alone.”

May we give our faith feet this day.

 

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Dog Tired

Ever been dog tired? Bone weary?

I cannot even find a reason, other than a couple of poorer nights rest, for this fatigue that can creep into me. 

It begins as a tired day, and gradually increases each day, like the movement of a virus that is ignoring your attempts to head it off before it takes over your body.

I awake tired, I yawn throughout the day, then I fall, lifeless, into bed at night, willing tomorrow to be filled with pep.

There was a time when I would fight it, now, like the flu season virus, I just let it run its course, while making efforts to pamper myself with nutritious foods, herbal teas, and a reasonable amount of sleep.

I whisper, over and over (Matthew 11:28), “come to me all of you who are weary and I will give you rest.”

Then, I recently rediscovered Isaiah 40:28,

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.”
My/our creator does not grow weary … EVER! 

The is what I will meditate on. Not that he will give me rest, but that he, who never grows weary, is in control, of everything.

That reminder, all alone, gives me hope that this virus-like fatigue is known and understood by the greatest of physicians.

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I admit, I am a bit (understatement) of a cynic when it comes to politicians, activists, and celebrities. So, for me, the news and social media have been a satirical gag-fest lately.

Whenever I hear any of the aforementioned groups share their message, I methodically pick apart every word. I do not have it within me to believe that those groups speak truth, or that they care or understand what I need or want.

I chalk my cynicism up to having frequently seen, heard and experienced the curse of money, stardom and power.

A few days ago I had reached the tipping point, after reading headlines of articles about the three groups I am cynical towards, and a phrase burst aloud from my lips:

“There is no one righteous, not even one …”

The words of the apostle, Paul (Romans 3:10), make me think that Paul may very well have been a kindred spirit.

Paul went on (Romans 3:11-18) to describe the depravity of all humankind:

“there is no one who understands;
there is no one who seeks God.
 All have turned away,
they have together become worthless;
there is no one who does good,
not even one.”
 “Their throats are open graves;
their tongues practice deceit.”
“The poison of vipers is on their lips.”
“Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.”
“Their feet are swift to shed blood;
 ruin and misery mark their ways,
and the way of peace they do not know.”
“There is no fear of God before their eyes.”

I am very cognizant of the fact that I am jaded in my thoughts about people in the positions or groups mentioned, and that my negativity can keep me from remembering that those represented are worthy of and need my/our prayers.

Yet, to think that a politician, a celebrity or a march will make or break a nation, a generation or a movement is to put power in the hands of the wrong saviour.

” we know that there is only one God, the Father,
who created everything, and we live for him.
And there is only one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom
God made everything and through whom we have been given life.”
1 Corinthians 8:6

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