Even the Bad is Beautiful

I watched Cinderella with Anna and Sara the other night, all snuggled up on the couch eating popcorn; at that moment everything was good in the world...with all of this beside me and Cinderella in front of me, how could it not be so.  

Cinderella says “A dream is a wish your heart makes”

I love that; the sweetest words.  Dreaming and wishing and hoping and praying ; hearts talking.

Wouldn’t it be so great if all our wishes came true; if we had all the things our heart desired, I would love that.  But Jesus said there would be trouble…He said that we would have trouble.  And we do, the whole of the world is filled with trouble.  Once we hear a story we think, how terrible, nothing could be worse than that…nothing could be sadder than that…nothing could be harder than that and then, there it is, something worse, something harder, something sadder…more trouble.

Life is hard, we all have stories; hard knocks, disaster, loss, death…this is what life is.  No, it wasn’t intended to be that way but it is. How to deal with it?  How to survive? How to come out of all this trouble with something good?

Last week I read three stories on the same day not knowing that they would be the same story, one was about the oldest Holocaust survivor, Alice Herz Sommer, she died that day…one was about Dean Koontz, a well known author of horror and mystery books, he was interviewed that day. And the other one was from Max Lucado; I read the last chapter of his book that day.

Alice survived the holocaust, she died after having lived a long life, all quiet in her bed, but in her living she suffered immeasurably, witnessed horror, and lost a life of innocence and wealth, but this is what she said,  “Even in very difficult situations there are beautiful moments, it doesn’t exist in our world only bad.  Even the bad is beautiful I would say…even the bad is beautiful…it has to be.  Be aware of the beauty of life.”

In the midst of my hard stories, I don’t see the beauty right away but eventually I do…I do.

My sister was reading Dean Koontz and asked me if he could be a Christian, she said his books are threaded with ideas and thoughts and patterns of faith…so I searched out his story for her and found trouble.  Dean was raised in the United Church but he was abused by his father, he suffered immeasurably, witnessed violence and lost a life of innocence in poverty.  This is what he said, “Everything you go through in life is meant to instruct you.  Eventually you realize that your experiences are lessons to help you understand the meaning and purpose to your existence.  As a boy, I yearned for a normal life, but later I understood that the darkness of my childhood was in a strange way a gift.  The benefit was to show me that there is evil in the world and that you have to find your way through it, reject it and find other ways to live, and not let it destroy you…life isn’t all about want and suffering.  My life has shown me that evil can win in the short run, but it never wins in the long run.”

In the midst of my story I often think that trouble is winning but never for long… soon, I find the gift…I do.

Max Lucado’s book is all about trouble and how to get through it, he especially uses the story of Joseph.  Genesis 39-50 tells the story; Joseph is thrown into a pit, left to die, sold out by his brothers…for 20 years he is lost to his family. This is what he said, when he comes up in front of his brothers, “Don’t be afraid.  Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.”

But God intended it for good, I don’t always understand God’s intentions but I try to see the good…I do.

I feel honored to have read these three stories, especially all at once; it validates the fact that we all have our stories, that even though they are momentary in the light of eternity, they are meaningful.

More than dreams and wishes, wouldn’t it be great if we all could understand our experiences in these ways... intentionally finding the beauty in the bad, discovering the gift from evil and seeing the good out of the harm...yes.

Max Lucado calls it  evil. god.good.

I love that.

This is How Love Wins

The place where shame and grace collide...how amazing.

I love that.

Gone With the Wind

“You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows”

Bob Dylan

I watched the sky move last night, after the rain stopped the clouds lifted and drifted off; the stars poked out and laid out all around them was the blackness of the space beyond…amazing night.

Amazing how things can change so quickly, I was just hunkering down for a good winter storm and out come the stars!

I watched the sky…clouds skiffing by, teasing the stars masquerading as will-o-wisps, dancing past, rearranging themselves into living creatures, angels, animals, lions, bears; silent, still, but on the move.  Soundless roars, paws lifted, morphing into waves, waves of ocean spray rolling over each other like the bottom of Niagra Falls, rushing, blowing in the wind, filling in the black empty spaces that are now gone with the wind.

Amazing how things can change so quickly, like the blink of an eye really, here today, gone tomorrow…life changes too, just like that…in the blink of an eye.

I watched ‘Gone with the Wind’ this past week, there had been some talk in our Bible study about it, in fact a bit of it was used by the author of the study we are in the midst of and I wanted to see what the reference was about, maybe settle a bit of the controversy that had crept up around it.  I watched the whole four hours, well, broken between two evenings, I loved it; I could hardly wait for the next evening when I could continue the saga.   What I found was a story of a young woman whose life is in constant change and how she makes her way through the challenges, how sometimes she is the blame for the changes and how sometimes she has no control at all, her world is caught up in winds of change…changing in a way that things will never be the same again…her world, gone with the wind.

It is this way for us too, some changes we have no control over, yet we need to make responses while living in the midst of it; the wind blowing all around us.  Have you ever been out in the wind and your breath seems to be sucked from you and you gasp, feeling caught up, lost in the wind, your very breath, gone with the wind? 

I have, I know the feeling and I know this…I need to stand, to simply stand, the breath comes back and I carry on through the storm. 

Some circumstances are beyond our control; whether it is war, sickness or death, fire, flood or wind…stand your ground.

“Therefore put on the full armor of God so that when the day comes,

you may be able to stand your ground and after you have done everything, just stand”

Ephesians 6:13

So, I watched the sky move, I wondered about the rain… gone for the moment; the stars twinkling bright, the clouds rolling past, blowing in the wind…God whispering good night.

I love that.

A Man Changed

Nothing ever stays the same, sometimes we love that, sometimes we yearn for change, and we beg God for it.  God, help me to get out of this circumstance, please give me a different life, couldn’t I please live in a more beautiful house, a bigger town, a better weather pattern…God, please give me something different…I need a change!

Sometimes we want people to change, we want a better life and we beg God for it.  God, please change my spouse, change the attitude of my children, please help change the heart of this stubborn person…God please change me!

Yes, we sometimes want change because we are in a rut, sometimes because we are sad, sometimes because we are hurt, and sometimes we want change so that our life will be perfect…perfect in our eyes, yes a change is as good as a rest. 

Sometimes we don’t want change at all, sometimes we want everything to stay the same, saying things like; this is the way I like it, don’t fix it if it ain’t broken, please just leave it as it is, this is perfect as is and in angry voices we say, don’t change anything, just leave it!

Sometimes change happens so slowly that we don’t even realize anything changed, until someone points it out…do you remember when things were this way?

Sometimes change catches us off guard, we didn’t expect it and it affects our heart and soul, sometimes in an awesome amazing way, in a way that we can’t believe our good fortune, our heart cannot contain the joy; a new baby, a new job, a wedding, a marriage, a new life.  

Sometimes change catches us off guard and it affects our heart and soul in a way that we can barely breathe, tears flow, hearts break, souls hurt  and we can clearly see that things will never be the same again…ever.

 

John’s Dad has been in hospital care for well over a month, he has just been moved to a care home, we are hoping that he will be able to be moved to the place where he has enjoyed life for the last few years…we are hoping.  He is not sick, he does not need all sorts of medication, he is not on any life support, but he needs help to do the basic things, necessary things to make him comfortable.  He has changed. Before he went into the hospital my son brought him out for a visit and we saw him changed,  ”Mom something is different about Grampa...”

When a man changes it is noticed. 

Dad was known to all of us as a man with a definite outlook; he was steadfast in his views, holding them tight; whether it was the views of his faith, politics or family life.  He was a hard worker, always on the lookout for a job to do, sometimes to make money, sometimes to be important. He very often was outspoken, stating his views to the world, once in a while he looked out for the other guy and stepped in to help but not always. He was a man of pride and strength, steel and iron…he had a hard knocks life but he also was the father and grandfather of many blessings, sometimes he didn’t know it, at least he didn’t speak it, but deep inside I believe he knew it. 

He was a hard boss, a hard father and a hard husband for most of the years that I have known him but I saw him change.  When John was dying, he came near to him and asked for forgiveness, a hard thing to say, a hard thing to do…a father changed.  Before John, he lost other loved ones, his grandson, his youngest son, his wife, his brother; a lot of loss, a lot of tears…tears soften the soul.  Dad changed, a softer man, a softer heart, I saw that, I know that.  

But now, Dad has changed again, after suffering a small stroke, his heart has softened more, along with his soul.  He is sweeter, he doesn’t know he is sweeter, it might even make him mad if he did, but he is, he is changed.  He doesn’t know everyone anymore, some he calls by the wrong name, some names he can’t recall at all, he can’t understand where he is…but his face lights up when he sees a face he knows, he can still play the piano, he smiles at remembering something, and sometimes his eyes glass over and a tear falls.

This is a new life for him and for us…a man changed.

Nothing ever stays the same.

Glorious

Oh my!  

I sat out on my patio this morning sipping my tea taking in the sunshine and the traffic going past…not the traffic of cars and trucks but of people; families, moms and dads, children, grandparents, joggers, lovers.  I hear bits of their conversation, calling out for their children to wait up, talking about the weather, laughing, loving…glorious.

I moved back to a place very close to where I grew up...my old stomping grounds, the place where I scrambled through blackberry bushes and bull rushes and ran down roads past the homes of my friends to the home where I spent the whole of my childhood, all my teen years, the home where I brought John to meet my parents and where I bring my grandchildren still.

This place, where I have moved  is surrounded by  old memories… the old willow tree still stands there guarding the place at the edge of the lake where I sat with my friends into the night, talking of secrets and life; a  simpler time when all we knew  was each other, our homes and our hiding places. 

There is an old fir tree that marks the place where my friend lived with his family, the only living thing left of the home that was a neighbour to all the homes that once lined this street; homes belonging to the Jansen’s, Reeve’s, Zomar’s and others.  School time friends, I hear their voices still, ringing out into the air of the park reminding me of our adventures in the yards that edged the lake; a playground of exploring while we were younger and a hiding place for secrets, friendships and freedom.

The old fir tree is home to an old clothes line reel, so imbedded into the bark that there will be no turning.  The reel has been wrapped around by the tree itself, a bit of the line still hanging, dangling with no length, no longer even wanting to hold the clothes that once hung there… only holding the stories of what happened in the yards that spilled out from there and the children who played under it.

I bought a townhouse that sits on the edge of Mill Lake; I look out every morning to the water...sunshine glistening off it, ducks and geese flocking to it, eagles soaring over it and people walking all around it...glorious. 

Last night I was awakened to see the moon…casting a spectacular light that flooded my room and I got up to see more.  Imagine the moon, just half of its glory, but as bright and white as it ever has been, ever…brighter…haloed by a moon dog, glowing so large around it as to make it all seem twice the size!  And then imagine it again reflected in the stillness of the lake below.  Identical twins sharing beauty…I could not take my eyes from it…glorious.

Hello God! 

Man, I live in a beautiful place…and how can I sleep at night when God is performing this show, this amazing production on the other side of my window…stars glittering, joy resting, sun rising, peace dancing...home.

I love that.

The Best Words a Heart Can Speak

I had a few things happen to me during this past week, things that saddened me, not horrible, but still…I cried.

These kinds of things happen to everyone, I know that, everyday things that sometimes wouldn’t even make you sad, but sometimes they do; some things that are meant to hurt and they hit the heart hard, bursting it in two; some  things happen that are not meant to hurt at all, but still, they do…some things haven't even happened to you but you feel it. Some things happen that are not horrible but still, you cry.

Of course I’m not fond of these moments, the tear filled hours, the days of feeling unknown, alone and tear swollen but there is a purpose; tears soften the soul.

Tears…sometimes they are the best words a heart can speak, I love that, I do.

I very nearly fell asleep with them but I didn’t, my heart heard the words and came around to peace, I love that too, I do.

My bedroom window  is large, a patio door actually and I leave the curtains pulled back giving me the pleasure of looking out to the lights reflecting off the lake and the stars out in the further distance…beauty.  I awoke this morning to a beautiful sunrise all pink, cloud streaked, the lake reflecting the soft color, sparkling and I thanked God for this view!

No sooner had I moved than my phone rang, the voice of a friend, one I hadn’t expected, sweet words, kind, thoughtful, funny…I laughed…how amazing to be greeted by the unexpected and I thanked God for this friend.

I hung up and wandered to my mirror, I could plainly see this was going to be a good hair day, an unimportant fact really but still every woman, maybe even the men know a bad hair day can affect everything; but clearly this was going to be a good day…yay for me and smiling, I silently sent a thankful word to God.

Downstairs for a cup of tea, waiting for the water to boil I looked to my newly decorated wall; decorated with framed photos of my grandchildren and their parents, everyone beautiful, “Thank-you for this amazing mix of little characters and the folks that shape them…too much!”

Oh man, here is the mail I haven’t touched for a few days; nothing fun, bills; thankfully I have money to pay them and then, yes, one late delivered Christmas card…perfect.

So, all ready, in my ‘truck’ (it is not a van or a car) dog fed and walked, garage door closed and on my way, listening to the radio, taking in the music and hearing the words of the announcer…

 “What if you only had the things you thanked God for this morning?”

I was amazed, the world around me stopped, in awe I smiled; what if those were the only things I had?

...a beautiful world, a wonderful family, a good friend, money and great hair!

Who could ask for anything more!  Being thankful...the best words a heart can speak.

I love that.

A Whirlwind

I had the most eventful year; it was a whirlwind of time, of adventure, of loss, of laughter and tears…a whirlwind of life.

In the old year, I flew off on an adventure to a land of amazing history, a land that speaks out from the very ground, all around the words of people long gone, prophets, men of armies long ago and now, women who cared for their men and lost their children, prophets calling out God’s truth…Christ, God himself , words and steps and tears...calling from the ground filling the air, so much that I did not know which way to look, to hear, to taste…Israel, a whirlwind of adventure, a whirlwind of time.

In the old year, I witnessed death once more; death, the thing we are all born to do…the thing that is so full of grieving, so final, that it is indeed life itself, for it is something that never leaves, it is a breathing in and out, seeing, watching, waiting, breathing in and out, as natural as that…as hard as that…I watched and heard and felt that last breath, my Dad's breath…a whirlwind of loss.

In the old year, I sold my home, the last home I lived together with a man whom I grew up with but would not grow old with; a home full of memories, family, laughter, building, making new…new dreams…almost as many as those that filled our whole life together, his life lost there, so short, the blink of an eye, yet it was a lifetime. So, yes, in the old year I sold my home…a whirlwind of packing up memories, some in boxes and some blown in the wind.

In the old year I bought a new home; a home that when I first saw it I knew it was mine, before I gave a penny, before I brought a piece of myself or my life into it…I knew it was mine.  A new home that speaks of peace and healing and breathing, a home that calls out forgiveness, laughter, life…a new home already filled with God’s blessings, His grace, His love.  A new home full of life, breathing in and out and whispering; whispering new life.

And in between all these were other days too, days full of moments blowing about filling all the spaces that were there to fill, friends loving, family wanting, time spinning...some with tears and some filled with laughter, the laughter of my grandchildren those here who live close by and those who came from Ontario bringing with them long awaited hugs and love and energy, all of it surely lasting to the next visit...it has to. 

All these eventful days blowing in and out, here and there, chasing out the old year and bringing with them all the new that is about to begin.

I am about to enter another whirlwind…

I love that.

Handfuls of Glitter

I have been packing up my house, taking pictures off walls, emptying book shelves, cleaning closets, emptying them; packing away mementos and keepsakes, all of it into boxes or onto piles waiting to be wrapped with paper.  All the photos of my family taken down, held in my hands, memories packed tidily away.

I am moving, packing up all of my things…my things.  Mementos of my travels to Israel, reminders of an amazing trip that happened nearly six months ago, mementos packed, time passed, moments gone.  There are other things, baby toys, stored diapers and soothers, no longer needed, babies growing up…out grown all of these.  Ah and there are these; things I had slipped away a life time ago, John’s things, quietly waiting to be looked at again, touched…tucked away, waiting for a time such as this.

I am moving…leaving this beautiful place, the memories I am taking with me, the sad ones letting blow with the wind, the glad ones melting my heart.  I have lived here for six years, this day being very nearly the exact day John and I bought this home; six years ago, not a long time, but a life time…two years with John and four years without him.  And this day is his day November 22, four years gone. Four years, it seems in the blink of an eye but yet it seems like a life time ago.  Four years…where has the time gone, not to mention that life…the life of having someone by my side, in the cold of the night and in the walking about of the day?

Waiting, but not alone, certainly not in the desert, no, it has not been where I have felt deserted; on the contrary I have not been alone at all, God has been with me every step of the way, while he has not given me this one thing, filled this empty place beside me, He has given me immeasurably more; my children, ten growing up grandchildren, my people, good friends, experiences, amazing adventures, sweet dreams, handfuls of glitter, moments of grace, comfort, His strong arm around me…me tucked under the feathers of His love.  Who could ask for more, even in the midst of my losses, He has given me one blessing after another.

  

Truly, as I look around this house, going from room to room, my eyes taking in the empty walls and vacant shelves, seeing these stacks of memories, even the mementos already packed away in brown boxes and these here, waiting, I think, this is it, my life.  My life, being packed up, but thankfully it’s not an ending, it is a beginning…my time here is done, I’m on my way into a new chapter, new life…and I’m okay with that.

With all that I’ve done and seen and shared….with all that I have felt and experienced and known…everything that has been built up and fought for….for all that I have joyed in and laughed over…yes, even cried, sad mad tears and those wept in awesome wonder…through all of it, these things that can’t be packed away in boxes or stacked up in piles, through all of this John would be happy for me...I know that.

“Hey Bud, come on, I’m ready, let’s go”…here he comes, throwing handfuls of glitter, all smiles, taking the credit, but proud so proud.

Him proud of me, I love that.

What do You See?

When Potiphar saw that the LORD was with him and that the LORD gave him success in everything he did, Joseph found favor in his eyes and became his attendant....Later while Joseph was in prison, the warden saw that the LORD was with him, so the warden put Joseph in charge of all that was done there.  

Genesis 40:3-21

I found it interesting that Potiphar, as well as the warden, saw that God was with Joseph, but his brothers did not…why is that do you think?

Potiphar and the prison warden were Egyptians, yet they were open to the fact that God worked through people, they understood that the attributes and actions of those in favor with God were worth being around, that they had something to offer.  Even though they were Egyptians they could still see God and the hand He had in Joseph’s life.   I found it interesting that Joseph’s brothers who were Israelites, who were born and raised with the teachings of God, could not see that God was with Joseph…why is that?

Some like to say that Joseph was spoiled, he was, the Bible says so; it says that Jacob “loved Joseph more than any of his other sons.”  Some like to say that he was spoiled rotten, maybe even obnoxious, I'm not so sure; the Bible doesn’t say so.  But it does say that the brothers were jealous, it says that the brothers hated Joseph because they “saw their Father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not say a kind word to him.”  They could not see God was with him because they could only see hate; hate and jealousy.

Joseph was their brother and all of them were raised with teachings of God, yet they could not see God, only hatred, only jealousy and murderous thoughts, they didn’t care that Joseph may have had dreams from God; they only knew that it was not in favor of them.  Jealousy causes suffering; it blinds the eyes to see what is really there.

How often do we see someone who is succeeding and place a label of spoiled rotten on them, we are jealous and respond in line with that thinking, with hate and anger.  We want what they have and in order to get whatever it is they have, we plot and hate and like Joseph’s brothers, sometimes hold thoughts of murder. Thoughts of jealousy blind us to anything good at all.

I can think of several times where my jealousy has limited my view of God, I’m sure you can too…times where feelings of hate and anger overtook seeing God, let alone anything good at all.

Wouldn’t it be great that when we are dealing with one another, instead of seeing the things that make us jealous, things that cause hurt and anger and disagreement, we could see that God was with them?

This is hard to do, I know that.  I have been taught the hope and faith and joy and loving kindness of God, I know God, yet sometimes I cannot see that God is with the people I have objection with.  The fact is, and I know this too, God opens the eyes of those to see Himself at work all around.  I want my eyes to be opened, I want to look for good, and I want to see God in those around me.  

God before jealousy…I love that.

This is what I want to see...what do you see?

A Golden Bowl

I went to a retreat on the weekend, a fabulous place of serenity, peace and yes, a dip in the lake!

Yes, it was cold, but so worth it, the next day we talked about being strong and courageous, I was.  My Dad was in this position once, a long time ago.  His choice was to take a dip in the lake to bathe and wash up or to go inside for a warm shower, he chose the latter but always wished he had done the more daring.  I have always thought of that, his little story of regret...I took it in and kept the lesson…do the thing, right then, don’t leave the moment wishing you had.

 

So I did.  I took the plunge, dove right in and man, that was great!  And, I’ll do it again, as long as it’s safe, I’ll do it again!

Diving in, taking the plunge, so great, there is almost nothing better…but on the other hand there is good in waiting too, waiting for the right time…the proper time.

On our retreat we talked about waiting too, waiting on God.  This is something I know a little about, actually I know a lot about it.  I set my prayers on having a Godly husband, thirty-six years I prayed and lamented and waited and prayed and lamented some more, waiting.  At the end of the time, at the proper time, God answered that prayer…and I was amazed.  I received a blessing that was more than I expected, lavishly more.  Waiting; but yet at the proper time

I have just finished up the tail ends of my Dad’s estate, my Dad was sick for 15 years, I prayed for his healing, prayed and lamented and waited and prayed and lamented some more, waiting.  At the end of the time, at the proper time God answered that prayer…and I was amazed, we all were.  We received a blessing that was more than we could have imagined, lavishly more.  Waiting; but yet at the proper time.

Timing is everything.

I find myself waiting again, waiting for the thing, praying, lamenting and waiting some more.  I intend to keep on praying, to keep on waiting because I have seen how God works, more than that, I know how He works.  He works by giving lavishly more!

A friend said to me once, “Do not give up on me.”  I like that phrase…give up?  Never!

"and they were told to wait a little longer..."

I will wait for the right time, yes, waiting and praying for lavishly more, in His time, the proper time.

“An angel, who had a golden bowl came and stood at the altar.  He was given much incense to offer, with the prayers of all the saints on the golden altar before the throne.  The smoke of the incense, together with the prayers of the saints, went up before God from the angel’s hand. Then the angel took the bowl, filled it with fire from the altar, and hurled it on the earth…”                                                                            

Timing is everything…praying is more…and I intend to hurl some from my golden bowl.

Something happens in the heavenlies when we pray...I love that!

Revelation 6:10 and Revelation 8:1-5

Plans and Intentions

I woke up this morning to a beautiful day, sun shining, lawn glistening, looking out the window…everything beautiful.

I noticed my windows need washing and I noticed there was spider webs everywhere, strung from any number of launching places; they too were glistening in the sunshine wet with a bit of dew.    Normally I would have gone out with my broom and swept them all away…but I noticed the spider.  

Have you ever watched a spider weaving his web?  It is a work of art, each thread placed on purpose, with clear intent.  And he keeps going despite the vastness of his job, he simply keeps on keeping on, spinning threads, from here to there, up, across and dropping down.  He has a plan and he is intent on completing it.

This never ending spinning plan is reminding me of the plans I am in the midst of right now, weaving arrangements for my Dads funeral.  It seems a vast job, well, not a job…an honor; an honor to put the final plans to a life well lived, but still vast and deep and hard, hard plans, threads being woven with intention of love.

I am also in the midst of a purchase for a new home, plans being woven in my mind, new ideas; threads of plans and intentions.  But circumstances happen, time gets away and I can see the broom nearby, ready to be picked up to sweep away the web I have been weaving.

I can see it happening, all my plans and intentions torn apart, leaving threads hanging, but I hope not…I pray not and despite the vastness of it, my plan is to keep on keeping on.

   

The spider in my window is still weaving and I will not be taking him down, sweeping away his heart and soul plans.  I will watch him to the end, spinning and weaving, loving his plans, watching them become what he has intended.

Dash his plans, sweep away his dreams?  No, not this time.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD "plans to prosper you 

and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future"

Jeremiah 29:11

I love that.

One Last Breath

My Dad had been such a strong man for so long, full of hard work and full of pride.  Strong hands, strong minded...and simply wanting some confirmation that he was a good man...he was.

Last week my dad was talking one thousand words, he was talking the words of a man who stood alone but not really alone, even though he didn’t know it these last five days we never left his side, day or night…although maybe he did.  Maybe he did know.

Ahh, life is hard; God never did promise it would be easy. Dad fought a long hard battle, fifteen years of a heart suffering with failure and then in turn more aches and pains, burdens overtaking his body, pains and sores overflowing with blood sweat and tears…blood, sweat and tears. 

God never did promise it would be easy.

Dad wanted it easier, don’t we all, we want to have it easy, but life isn’t that way.   Life is filled with trouble, hard knocks and sad stories.  We all have a story; if we listen we will hear the stories that fill the air all around us, stories that bump into each other in the spaces of our breathing in and out.  Stories that float like clouds over the heads of those we pass every day. We passed through them on the way to Dad’s room, into the staircases and elevators, through the halls, past the rooms whose doors opened to the hallways and all of them speaking into the air that we were walking through; breathing them in.

Breathing in and out, in and out, shallow, rapid, slow…crackling, bubbling, in and out, so hard to hear, so hard to watch, so hard to bear…my Dad’s breath, telling the story of the suffering we have known these last years, these last days, the last moments of his last story.

Part of his last story was how he reconciled to God, how the Chaplain came and ministered to him, prayed with him and listened to the words Dad had to tell, words that were still known, words that came before the one thousand words we couldn’t understand.

 

What a blessing for my Mom to hear the story, the better part, the part that came easy and offered peace…peace at last.

Yes, peace, given freely, given in the way of a moment, in slow motion, in…out…in…out.

We were in awe of the silence...so loud in our ears and hearts, taking it in and the world around us stopped as we listened.

   

In.  Out.  Finished.

It was an honor to witness this last breath; the last part of the story, my Dad’s story.

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace

 I love that…Good bye Dad

My Dad...a Thousand Words

“There are some people who could hear you speak a thousand words 
and still not understand you.

And there are others who will understand without you even saying a word.”

I read this quote the other day, it affected me.  I find it true.  I find it sitting in my heart and filling my mind; I take it in and feel every nuance about it.  Some people know me, they know the words I use and they understand me even when I don’t use those words, they just know.  I love that.  But there are others, those who hear me speak and don’t get it, they can’t take it in, they don’t know what I’m saying, even if I do use a thousand words. Nothing will make them understand.  Their ears, and hearts and minds are closed to me; nothing I say will make them understand.  I’m okay with that.  I’m not made to fit into every one’s space.

The Greek word for understand is Suniemi which “strictly denotes the collecting together of individual features of an object into a whole, as collecting the pieces of a puzzle and putting them together.

Putting the pieces of a puzzle together requires the ability to see the whole picture, knowing exactly what will be made once the pieces are placed there, sometimes there is a pattern to copy, sometimes there are hints of what to expect and sometimes it is a matter of trial and error and guessing, longing for the pieces to fit one way but knowing they never will… each piece has its own place to go.  Once the last piece is put into place the picture is clear, every piece fits, yes, and now we know.

On Sunday, Andrew talked about Lego pieces fitting together,  a different kind of fitting, anything can be made with these kind of pieces and it will always be right, it will always be good, not perfect but good, each piece fitting to the other, made for one another…I love that.  We all want to be a Lego piece, I think, rather than a puzzle piece, fitting together any which way we can, but we also want to be understood and placed right there in that exact space, the one that holds the shape that belongs to me, to you.

My dad is lying in a hospital bed, he has been there for 6 weeks and he is changing every day.  Every day he moves further away, into his own world, but we know him.  We understand him in the ways that we have known him, what he likes to eat, how he likes to sleep, the words he is likely to say, and the way he will most probably respond. We know him.  But we can’t understand him, the words he uses are many; a thousand words but we don’t know what they are.  His hands are constantly moving, holding, folding, reaching, wanting…my father’s hands.  If I put my hand in his he will hold it, sometimes tight, but sometimes no, no touching, his hands are working to tell the story of his one thousand words…the words we can’t understand.

Right now my Dad is a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit, we can’t understand him.  But he is also a Lego piece, he fits together with us, just the way he is,  it’s not perfect but it is good…we were made for one another no matter which way we fit.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those that love God.”     

Romans 8:28

I love that.

Saints and Souls and Watchmen

Haida Gwaii, most people know it by its previous name, the Queen Charlotte Islands.  When I told people I was going there I mostly had to add that last bit.  It is a group of Islands that  lie up north, out from the BC coast across the ocean from Prince Rupert…Alaska and Russia are out in the far distance.  God’s country for sure, His people, His creation…an amazing place of ocean coming together with land, inlets of water ways and tides letting in and out, in and out, skies above, clear and crisp and blue.

The sky goes on forever, the clouds telling the story of what is coming next, always changing, fog rolling in and rolling out, making way for clear skies, bluer than blue.  The stars lighting up the nights, bright, sparkling, peeking, small clouds of stars laid deeper into the heavens, all of them looking down to all of us; standing, looking up, breathing in the crisp night air...framed in by trees and silence.

The trees stand tall stretching out windblown, branches whipped, boughs bent, and trees held there by roots that will not let go.  But some of them do, roots exposed, reaching out wishing for the soil they stood in. Some of the trees are weighed down with moss, moss that hangs like sweaters, blanketing the branches that have lost their own foliage, gracing the forests with soft green warmth and maybe a bit of eeriness too, perhaps holding the secrets of souls who passed by centuries ago, over the ocean and onto the rocks of this windblown land.

The rocks come in with the tides, small round rocks that have been rolled around by the waters of the ever changing ocean, some of them shaped into hard agates, all of these waiting to be found and polished and kept in jars, made into jewelry and laid deliberately along the paths, together with ever abundant sea shells, lain on benches, beside graves marking the sacred places of loved ones lost and buried in the ground, here in Gods Land.

The ground itself calls out with words of the souls who have walked here and those who walk here still.  Every path leads to places where the land changes to water, water coming in and out, again and again.  The land worn and sanded and etched by the years of salty ocean water, all filtered by sand, the sand  filling in all the empty places between the  grasses and rocks and  then wrapping around the edges of the shore stretching out to  the places where the ocean never ceases and sometimes only the waves see.

The waves; waiting for the boats, kayaks and canoes paddling out, the surfers who try to ride their crests and  the fishermen who try to master and catch the life inside…the waves; calling out to the Island people to come and see what they see.

The people wear their heart on their sleeve and their soul sits right there too.  Everyone smiles and waves, everyone smiles; they look in your eyes to see if you are looking, really looking and smiling too.  The people are not so busy that they are in their cars getting to the next place but they are going, whether in their cars or on foot they are going to see who else is there, smiling waving seeing. People taking in life, respecting the land, honoring traditions and families taking care of one another, some of them for generations, living laughing loving always loving.

Sandspit, Queen Charlotte, Skidegate, Tlell, Port Clements, Massett and Old Massett…the villages called home by First Nations people, by others who came to log, by those who came years ago with army assignments and  those too who came to visit and never left. An Island made up of islands, protected by its people and guarded over by the Totems carved with eagle and raven, whale and crests, each pole telling a story; inspirational and beautiful holding onto the traditions of history.

There are two Totems that stand out in Old Massett facing out to the ocean; at the top of them are carved three watchmen, they are said to be on guard ever watching, protecting the souls who live there…a comfort to many, those out on the water and those who wait on land.

  

The minister of the small Anglican Church in Old Massett, Lilly Belle, surely a saint, shared with us about being watchmen over one another, taking care, loving, and giving grace just as God, Salaana, is the Watchman over us all.

Haida Gwaii, a carved and landscaped island made up of saints, souls and watchmen.

I love that.

Don't Cry

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened

I saw these words posted on a church sign, you know, the kind of sign where the glass door opens and the letters can be placed there to make words and sentences, phrases and quotes.  Words of inspiration for passers-by, people walking, riding their bikes, in their cars, eyes open taking in their surroundings, thinking about their life and taking in the words on this sign.  Two churches are on this corner, the hospital is up the road and my parent’s house a little further on, I always pass by here and I am always looking to see the words of wisdom this pastor posts on the sign with the glass door.

Of course there are those who pass by and never look, let alone take it in, they are too busy with their minds, busy on the inside rather than the outside…missing out on the  life going on around them, missing out on inspiration found on the edges of their travels.

Sometimes I find myself too busy on the inside, my friend says, “Get out of your head and into your heart.”  I love hearing that from time to time, it wakes me up and I see the world around me through my heart instead of my head.  Looking through your heart helps you to see clearer; you can see more of what is going on around you, which brings me back to the words on the sign.

Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened

I wondered why a church would have those words on their sign.  What would be over?  Suffering? A hard life?  A tough lesson? Overcoming a sin? Yes I can see it, all of those would be worthy of a good cry…yes, don’t cry because it’s over, smile because you have overcome, you have found Jesus, you have been saved, Hallelujah!  But no, the sign says smile because it happened?  That doesn’t make any sense at all, yet the message seems to be pointing to what happened.  What happened, that you would be sad that it’s over? What happened that would be worthy of putting on a church sign, the kind that has a glass door, where you can put words of wisdom to cheer up the world that passes by?

Ahh, yes, I know what happened…running barefoot, playing with our children on the beach, camping with our friends, visiting parks and playgrounds, celebrating family in the sunshine, running about outdoors getting sun kissed, tanned and freckled. Cozying up by the fire roasting marshmallows, sparks crackling up into the night, lying flat on our backs arms crooked under our neck,  looking out to the starry night, pointing out the big dipper, mars, the moon, satellites, fireflies, listening to the owl hoot, hoot and the splashing of the water up against the shore.  Walking late in the evenings, enjoying the night sounds; crickets, frogs, traffic in the distance. Spending time enjoying the people God has placed in our life, creating memories together, sharing, laughing, loving, moments of seemingly endless fun enjoying Gods creation, His land, His peace, this season; the endless days of summer, fun days that are over…but don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.

 

Ahh the long days of summer,yes...smiling because it happened.

I love that.

Mary

The sweetest Lady died Sunday morning, the Lords day.  She had been lying in a hospital bed for the better part of a month, her family surrounding her, loving her taking care of her and praying with her.  The tasting of death for all of them…waiting, holding on to God, breathing in and out and in, sharing these last days of life.

Mary was looking forward to seeing her Lord, being with Him and the others, those who had gone before her; friends, family, her husband John.  Yes, Mary was waiting too, to see John again.

Mary reminds me of another lady, one from a movie, a love story…her name was Rose.  You know the movie, it was called Titanic.  Rose falls in love with Jack, but he dies before her, though she mourns his loss she carries on, living life. When in her old age death takes her, she is reunited with all of those who died before her and you see her, youthful, climbing the staircase, all of those surrounding her, so happy to see her again with them. And as they move aside there is Jack standing at the top of the stairs holding out his hand, reaching for Rose…

This is how I see Mary, climbing the stairs, smiling, her arm out stretched, reaching for the hand of John, him smiling too…youthful, reunited…a love story.

Mary and John had a good long life together; they raised two handfuls of children and all of them raising more. Mary was well loved and she loved well; she had a kind word for everyone, an encouraging word, words of hope and faith and love.

The greatest gift of God is love.  Every day I thank God for teaching me about love; for giving me the opportunity to know love, to have shared in it, to have held the hand of it…love.

  

Love is a hard thing to hang on to…living is hard and life is always changing, nothing ever stays the same. People grow up, emotions change, children are born, work takes over, life happens, children move on, people grow older…but through it all love is there, in the cracks, around the corners…up the staircases…love the greatest gift, the gift that binds everything together.

Here is a wise saying…It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.  Love is hard, it is sometimes elusive but it is always there waiting for us at the top of the staircase, a hand held out waiting.

Mary is reaching out for that hand, smiling...death, a love story. 

I love that. 

Here...take this

We were talking about helping others, helping in situations of loss and suffering and coping and living…just living.  And he asked me; what do you have to offer?

At first I was a little taken aback…what do I have to offer?  As if it is something tangible, something real in my hand.  As if it is something worthwhile to give, something I’d have in my hand that I was willing to pass out, to offer freely.   Something to offer, given like a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs or a baked cake.  Here...take this, yes, this is for you.

Sometimes helping is giving something tangible.

But sometimes having something to offer is from the heart, out of the soul; a bit of grace, a touch of mercy, a listening ear, a touch from a hand that seems empty but is filled with compassion, love.  I have certainly witnessed all of these, seen them being offered freely, given from one soul to another.

But the question was; what do I have to offer?

I have what God has given me...

He has given me mercy, mercy to carry on under hard circumstances…I have mercy to give.

He has given me the faith to trust Him no matter what...I have faith to give.

He has given me Love; love to see me through times of great loss and in times of beautiful blessing…I have love to give.

He has given me insight into death, tasting it, feeling it and knowing it is not the end…I have hope to give.

He has given me the opportunity to witness His grace, undeserved and He has given me grace, undeserving grace…I have grace to give.

In the midst of my story He has given me the stories of others, I have learned to listen…I have compassion to give.

He has given me His word, a knowledge to discern it…I have His word to give.

He has given me Himself; lover of my soul, healer of my scars, comfort for my hurts…I have comfort to give.

Sometimes, these are difficult to pull out at the right time, sometimes I have to look deep to see if they are still there but they are always found, sometimes hidden behind a need of my own, under an old scar, or maybe over there by my own broken heart…but always found…always.

And none of these are tangible or easily seen or taken from my hand but they are felt in the soul, they are known to the heart and they are here to give.

Here...take this, yes, this is for you.

The Power of a Word

I have just finished reading ‘Day After Night’ by Anita Diamant, a story about Holocaust survivors who were imprisoned by the British in Israel, freed by the Jewish Palmach and placed in Kibbutz’ throughout the country.

 

“Kibbutz.  The word echoed in her head suddenly unfamiliar and unlike an ordinary noun like pencil or soup.  More like justice or even unicorn.  Not so much a thing you could put a hand on; kind of a fairy tale or a dream…a nice idea, a noble goal perhaps.  Not a real place like the one these men were talking about…just out of view.”

Kibbutz; for these survivors, it was another word for freedom.  Though they knew this word; they knew about the places that they were, but heard now, in this moment, the word held another meaning...salvation, freedom, home at last, a dream fulfilled.

The power of a word understood…said or heard or read at just that moment…the moment of seeing it real…of feeling it, smelling it, tasting it.  Have you ever heard a word like that?

 

A friend said to me on Sunday that he was amazed at the reading of these words…one in particular; the word taste.

 

"Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death 

before they see the kingdom of God."

Luke 9:27

Taste death?

What do you do with a word like that, used in that way for that purpose?  Tasting death…it’s as if it is something to be grasped, held on to, experienced; rolled around on your tongue, filling your pallet and then…to be swallowed. Like a blueberry, a little explosion, popping in your mouth, it’s sweetness laughing there, all sweet, flesh, and skin and seeds.  Like ice cream?  Ice Cream, with a bit of butterscotch, smooth and creamy, sweet; melting over every taste bud and down…your throat cherishing the melting down of it.  Tasting; maybe like a lemon, biting down on it, the pulp, squirting, finding its way into every hidden place in your mouth, its juice sucking up everything into a pucker, your lips, the whole of your face and even your fingertips…bitter.

Tasting death…tasting, the power of a word.

.

A word, how you hear it, how it falls fresh in your mind, powerful, with a new meaning, on your heart, filling your soul.  Words, how you say them matters, how you hear them sometimes matters more.

The power of words…thinking, feeling, tasting…taking them in, filling your soul.

I love that.

Into a Spacious Place

Today I went to pray for the VBS program at our church.  A room was set aside for volunteers to come into to pray, we were given names of leaders and helpers, an overflowing list of names on a page.  There was a list of the Bible stories that would be told and the verses that would be memorized. We were given the stations that would be running, places like the Preschool Palace, Epic Bible Adventures, Tournament Games, The Imagination Station, Chadder Theatre and of course the Fanfare Finale that will take place tomorrow.  And we were given the names of children attending the program, in order of age and in some cases to whom they belonged.  In the midst of the prayers of unity, joy, patience, passion and simple service for the leaders; we prayed for the children that they would easily understand the message presented to them, that what they learn here will hold them for life, a lifelong hope of Life and beautiful hearts.  We prayed that in turn their families would be open to hear their children retell the stories and listen to the message they bring home with them; that they too would be transformed.  A room filled with prayer, for every hour and every moment, for all of those that were there in that place.

Covered in prayer moment by moment…I want to be prayed for like that.

John’s cousin has been in the ICU in Vancouver Hospital for these past 2 months, she was brought in by ambulance and received emergency surgery.  Things did not go well, there were infections and complications. She has been through much.  Before her surgery she told the Doctors to do everything possible to keep her alive, no matter what.  She has been, poked, prodded, taped, tubed, scanned, x-rayed, sedated,  transfused and intubated .  She has been near death; touching death, death touching her.  The Doctors were ready to give up, but Sandra said, “Don’t give up yet, I will ask her friends to pray.” And Frieda is getting better. She is still there in that place but she has started to get better, surrounded by the prayers of her friends.

Covered in prayer by faithful friends…I want to be prayed for like that.

Now, Jesus was in Jerusalem at the time of Passover and He asked the disciples to go and make the place ready for them to share the Passover meal.  It is near the Garden of Gethsemane where Jesus goes later to pray, where He asks the disciples to stay awake and pray with Him, to pray for Him. It is in this Upper room where He shares the wine and the bread.  It is the place where Jesus tells them that He will be betrayed by one of them and in this Upper room Jesus tells Peter, you will deny knowing Me; not once but three times.  And in this place, after the Passover meal; where He shares more than food,  Jesus says to Peter, do not worry; I have prayed for you that your faith will not fail…the comfort of Christ.

Covered in prayer by Jesus…I want to be prayed for like that.

“He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

The Lord was my support.  He brought me out into a spacious place.”

Psalm 18:16-19

I am…I love that.

No, This is Not the End

the end of the Days

June 5, Wednesday

travelling home…

So, this is the end…we have just shared our last meal together and have been told when to have our bags ready for pickup in the morning, when to be down for breakfast and when to head for the bus.

I have loved this Country, the very smell of the land, the color of the deserts, it's heights and it's lowlands; I have loved the waterways; the seas and rivers and lakes...the swimming in them and I have loved the bright sun, the heat of the day and the breezes of the night. I have loved the people, watching them in their diversity and steadfastness.  Israel, taking in the whole of it, loving it and now... leaving it. 

Yes, we are heading home, suitcases packed, keepsakes and souvenirs carefully wrapped in the already over stuffed corners.  Last looks at the countryside and the views around us.  And memories tucked safely inside our hearts and minds; in our very souls. Memories of new friendships made, made from the common desire to know more…more of our faith.  Memories of places seen, places where regular people and Kings have made their homes, where they walked...where we walked too.  And we have been made aware of time; time forever changed because now we see it in a whole new light, we have seen history in its time through the perspective of Gods land, God’s word…His unchanging word.

I think this is one of the most amazing things I have learned, God’s unchanging word, His word proved true through tradition, through discovery in excavations, through the findings of inscriptions, proven by way of found boats, unearthed coins and seals, proven by the finding of His written word in places so hidden that only He could have arranged it…His unmoving word.

His Word proven true by fulfilled prophecy; in those days; in past days and even in these days. 

How amazing to have seen these things in the context of the land where they have happened; artifacts and places that have been protected for centuries by the Orthodox, the Catholic and even the Muslim…amazing…and there is more being discovered fresh and new every day, things old and of historic importance protected by God for such a day as this.  God acts in mysterious ways, what an honor and privilege to know some of this mystery and to have been here, to His House.

As we are travelling along this highway back to Tel Aviv, leaving Jerusalem, we are silent, watching the scenery pass us by, feeling blessed that we have been part of this land and the story it tells.  As we go, David entreats us to spread the word as we head into the places we know, our own cities and towns and homes to spread the word of the good news of Israel…of that we have no choice, I feel I will never stop talking about it!

“But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. 

You have come to thousands of angels gathered together with joy.  

You have come to the meeting of Gods firstborn children whose names are written in heaven.  

You have come to God, the judge of all people, and to the spirits of good people who have been made perfect.  

You have come to Jesus, the One who brought the new agreement from God to His people, 

and you have come to the sprinkled blood that has a better message than the blood of Abel.”

Hebrews 12:22-24 

Though this is the end of our days together, this is not the end.  Yes, we are leaving here, yes, we are going home; but what we have learned here, we will be taking with us, we will not stop talking about it, or leaning in to hear something more about it, or taking in every word we come across that is speaking to it.  No, this is not the end, we have heard a better message, we have been part of it... following the dots of bloody dirt.

I love that.